And here we have another Mara chapter.
To be fair, this and Chapter 6 were supposed to be one chapter, so if everything had gone according to plan, it'd be roughly three quarters Mara and a quarter Layla, but alas here we are.
Still, hopefully Mara's growing on you so her amount of screentime isn't an issue?
Regardless, here we go. Next stop, Corvega.
Brave New World
A two headed cow.
Stood before Mara...was a two headed cow.
...What.
It mooed at her. She wasn't quite sure how to respond.
"...Moo?" She replied tentatively. Next to her, a scruffy looking woman, possibly the creature's owner, laughed.
"What's wrong?" She asked, grinning. "You look like you've never seen a brahmin before. Brahmin? Mara thought, looking at the bizarre bovine. Isn't that like an...Indian thing? She was sure she'd read that word somewhere, bored with a random book on a Sunday afternoon.
The sun hung low in the sky as Mara stood in the middle of Sanctuary. Her recon mission to Corvega had, shockingly enough, gone off without a hitch, and she'd returned home, only to find a terrifying beast waiting for her. A huge, deformed cow, with bloated, engorged udders, and a pair of heads that stared blankly at her, chewing on nothing, exhaling loudly through nostrils big enough to fit her fist in. Mara could only gape at the thing, losing a battle against her fight or flight reflex.
Calm down Mara. You fought a 15-foot tall lizard yesterday. A two headed cow isn't that weird. Four eyes blinked at her, one at a time. Okay no it's totally weird. Just as Mara was wondering how she could run the hell away without making it seem rude, Preston approached, a small pouch in his hand.
"Hey Carla." He said to the scruffy woman, before throwing her the pouch. "Payment for services rendered." Carla caught it without even blinking, and smirked.
"Much obliged, Preston." She said, before opening the pouch, which to Mara's surprise appeared to be full of bottle caps. "100 caps, right?" Caps? She recalled the bottle caps on that raider she killed, and it started to fall into place. Oh god, don't tell me bottle caps are currency in this world.
"Added an extra ten for making a tough trip." Carla's eyes lit up.
"You're a sweetheart, Preston." She said, pocketing the pouch and looking at him. "I'll have to bring you something nice next time I come round."
"That'd be a first." They looked at each other for a few seconds, before bursting into laughter. Mara just stood there, confused and still being stared at by that fucking mutant cow. She tried to step away, but the thing followed and pushed its heads against her. She shuddered. "Mara, this is Trashcan Carla." Preston said, finally turning to her and gesturing at the brahmin's owner. "Don't let the name fool you: she's a classy lady."
"Like hell I am." Carla spat back, grinning. "I'm called that because I look like crap, I smell like crap, and I sell crap."
"Carla's a travelling trader; we met a while back. She just happened to show up a few minutes ago, and was nice enough to sell me some parts we need for Sanctuary. She didn't even try to rip me off."
"That's how you know you're a valued customer." The trader retorted. "That or the sun's getting to me." Preston chuckled.
"Security's new." He said, nodding to the armoured gentleman who had escorted Carla into town. "Thought you travelled alone?"
"Normally I do, but things have been a bit crazy lately. Needed the extra security."
"Can't argue with that." Preston said, spirits still high despite the subject matter. "I got some of my own." He nodded his head towards Mara, and Carla turned to the Sole Survivor, appearing unimpressed.
"Her? I've seen chem-heads less jumpy than her. You trust the girl who's afraid of her own shadow to watch your back?"
"She killed a deathclaw yesterday." Carla's head swivelled back to face him, eyebrow raised.
"Yeah? Pull the other one."
"It's true. Dunked an overloading fusion core into the lizard's mouth. Turned it into a crispy, half eaten iguana on a stick."
"What, seriously?" Carla looked at Mara, then back to Preston again. "You're having me on, surely?"
"Picked apart a pack of raiders too. Didn't you see the bodies on the way up through Concord?" The trader looked intently at Mara, silently searching for something. Apparently finding it, she clicked her tongue.
"Huh." She said simply, before directing a question towards Mara. "Wanna buy some ammo?" Surprised at being addressed, Mara jumped, before doing her damndest to ignore the terrifying bovine next to her and summon some words.
"I...I'm good." She stuttered. Carla looked at her for a few seconds more, before shrugging and turning back to Preston.
"Always the quiet ones, isn't it, Preston?" The Minuteman laughed again, before noticing the look of discomfort on Mara's face.
"Hey, Mara, everything okay?" The brahmin started to slobber on her arm. Peachy.
"Y...yeah...I'm fine." She shooed the bovine away, and managed to get her arm out of its maw. "Just..." Risking a look at the brahmin, she went white as its two sets of eyes stared into her soul. "...this thing is weirding me out." Preston looked at her, then the brahmin, then back to her, visibly confused.
"Didn't they have brahmin where you come from?" She shook her head violently, before taking a step away from the monster. Naturally, it followed. Carla laughed.
"Aw, he likes you." The creature let out an affirmative 'MOO'.
"Hooray." Mara said, drily. "Hey Preston, let's walk far away so I can tell you how my mission went, and, by pure coincidence, get the hell away from this thing." Smirking, Preston nodded, and followed her as they walked away from the brahmin. The hellspawn tried to follow Mara, mooing forlornly as Carla and her security guard held it back.
"Aw, your new friend seems like he misses you." Preston joked once they were a safe distance away.
"I'm heartbroken." Mara quipped, and her tone might just have been the driest thing Preston had ever encountered. "Do you want to hear how the mission went, or not?"
"I don't know, I'm kinda enjoying this, to be honest." Mara gave him a hard frown, and he relented. "Sorry, sorry. World's pretty grim; gotta find some humour where you can." He somehow kept smiling, and Mara couldn't help but feel impressed by Preston Garvey's durability. Living in a world like this, but still managing to smile. Granted, he was stoic most of the time, but as he said: you had to find humour where you could. "Go on, give me your report." Snapped out of her thoughts, Mara nodded.
"Got to the farm. Naturally, there were raiders there." Preston's smile crumbled.
"Shit." He cursed quietly. "And the settlers?"
"On their knees, at the raiders' mercy."
"Okay." Preston said, pacing and thinking. "How long ago was that? If we head over now, maybe we can..."
"The raiders are dead, Preston." He looked at her, stunned. "I..." She spent a few seconds trying to phrase it, before giving up and shrugging. "...interjected." The last Minuteman kept staring at her, visibly trying to find words.
"I...I thought you'd..."
"Me too." Mara said, sheepishly scratching the back of her neck.
"Shit, Mara, are you okay?" She nodded. "I know how you feel about that stuff, about how it...hurts you. You didn't have to..."
"I...think I did." Mara interrupted. "I was going to disengage, to return to Sanctuary, like you said...but I heard them laughing, heard them hurting those people...and my pain, my fear...in that moment, it didn't seem so important." Preston stared at her, and slowly, his lip curled upward.
"Okay...we haven't known each other long, so this is going to sound and feel weird...but I'm proud of you." It was Mara's turn to stare, dumbfounded. "Look...I know trauma, okay? I know what it's like to be hurt and broken and shell-shocked and to let that shit take priority over everything else. I've seen people be destroyed by it, and felt it eat away at me too. The fact that you fought through that, and helped some folk you don't even know..." He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came. Instead, he gave her a long, meaningful look. Any words he'd summoned couldn't have meant more than that look, anyway. After letting the moment hang for a while, Mara decided to move things along before the gratitude and faith she saw there made her blush or run away in a panic.
"So...yeah..." She said, clearing her throat. "Killed the raiders. Got one of them to spill his guts. Turns out there's a whole, big gang of raiders, operating out of the Corvega Assembly Plant." On hearing that name, Preston's expression turned serious again. "You know it?"
"Heard some things." He said quietly, calmly. "Saw some things too. It's next to Lexington, right?" Mara nodded. "We passed through Lexington on the way to Concord. Between the raiders and the ghouls, we were lucky to make it through in one piece." There's that word again. Ghouls. What even are..."Did you learn anything else?" Mara shook her head to dispel useless thoughts, and nodded again.
"Gang's led by a guy called Jared. I heard his name from a few raiders yesterday; think the thugs who attacked us in Concord were working for him." Preston's expression turned hard to read, but looking past his eyes, Mara saw something she was unused to seeing from Preston. Anger; a small spark, but burning furiously.
"Okay, then we need to get rid of him." Preston said, visibly calming himself. "Though that's easier said than done. Judging by the amount of raiders crawling around Lexington, I'd guess Jared's got plenty of men."
"The raider I interrogated said forty." Mara reached a hand to her slung pipe rifle, and gently tapped the scope with her finger. "I did a little recon after clearing the farm. Headed to Corvega, and found an overpass where my friend and I..." She tapped the scope again. "...could have a look at the entire base."
"And?"
"It's...pretty much a fortress. The building's huge, and it's got a bunch of raiders patrolling, as well as several turrets watching the entrance. There's more on the roof too; webs of catwalks going up several stories, loaded with dozens of raiders." Preston's hand stroked his chin as he started pacing again.
"This is the kind of thing where I'd want to send in a squad." He said, eyes showing he was deep in thought. "A siege like that...it'd be risky, bloody. I'm not sure we can..."
"There's one other thing." Preston stopped, and his head slowly turned to her. "The raider was kind enough to tell me about a secret entrance into Corvega. A sewer tunnel, round the back. You'd have to go through Lexington, but presumably it leads directly into the heart of Corvega. A small team could probably sneak in, kill the raiders before they can react or raise the alarm, and slowly work their way through the base."
"Yeah...that could work..." Preston mused. "How many people were you thinking for this 'small team'?"
"Two." Mara said, giving him a meaningful look. Preston stared at her, visibly surprised.
"Are you sure?" He asked her. "I don't want to force you into..."
"I'm volunteering, Preston." Mara interrupted. "Besides, not like there's anyone else." She gave a small smile. "More to the point, do you think you can break away from this place long enough to help? I can't do it on my own." Preston looked around the small settlement, expression hard to read.
"I've been doing my best to guard Sanctuary...but if Jared keeps doing whatever he wants, my efforts won't mean anything before too long." He turned back to her, smiling. "Besides, those settlers need help."
"And helping is what the Minutemen do, right?"
"Exactly." The two of them grinned, only to jump slightly as a sudden bark startled them. Looking up the road, they saw Dogmeat running towards them, panting and slobbering happily. "Oh, look who finally decided to make a reappearance." Mara crouched down as the dog reached her, and lightly scratched his ears.
"I'm heading out on an important job, Dogmeat." She said quietly to him. "I need you to be the man of the house, and guard Sanctuary while I'm gone, okay?" He looked at her, cocking his head slightly. "No, you can't come with me." A sad whine left the dog's mouth. "I'll be fine; I'll have Preston watching my back." The dog looked at Preston, then back at Mara. He sniffed quietly. "You're one of the few I can trust, Dogmeat. Can you protect Sanctuary for me?" His eyes bored into hers, then he barked happily, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he started panting. Mara smiled back, and petted him, before getting to her feet. "There, now we have someone to cover for you." Preston smirked.
"I'm happy to leave Sanctuary in such capable paws...but just in case..." The last Minuteman took a few steps away, before shouting down the road. "Hey Carla!" He called, prompting the grimy merchant to look at him. "Got a job for you."
"I'll temper my sense of decency in anticipation." She replied drily.
"You, decency?" She paused for a moment, before barking out a laugh.
"I'll give you that one, Preston." She said, flashing a grin that showed grimy teeth. "What you need?"
"Going out on a trip." He hefted his rifle meaningfully, and nodded back over his shoulder, in Mara's direction. "Need someone to guard Sanctuary." Carla gave him a look.
"I'm not hired security, Preston."
"No, but the guy in the leather isn't just for show, is he?" They both looked at Carla's bodyguard, who was currently stood next to the brahmin, trying to look badass. When he thought nobody was looking, he picked his nose, then flicked the results away. Carla shook her head, before turning back to Preston. "Look, all I'm asking is that you hang around for a while. If any raiders or creatures show up, let your bodyguard handle them. Our dog can help, too." Carla looked like she was about to refuse, when Preston suddenly drew another pouch, like the one filled with bottle caps earlier, before tossing it Carla's way. "100 caps extra, to sweeten the pot." Oh god, bottle caps are currency in this universe. While Mara sighed to herself and tried to hide her look of annoyance, Carla caught the pouch, before inspecting its contents.
"100 caps to just stay here for a few hours?"
"Easiest money you'll ever make." She spent a few seconds quietly thinking, before groaning.
"Gonna regret this." She said, before tucking the bag into her pocket, and turning to her bodyguard. "Smithy, make yourself comfortable; we're gonna be hanging out here for a while. Both Preston and Mara smirked, and Carla turned back to them, looking unimpressed. "This is a one-time deal." She said, making a good effort to sound irritated, before walking away.
"Huh...I guess she really is a classy lady." Mara said, coaxing a laugh from Preston.
"Come on." He replied. holding his laser musket over his shoulder and leading the way. "We only have an hour or two of daylight; let's make use of them." Mara nodded, before following him. Normally the prospect of heading off on such a dangerous mission would give her pause, but with an actually reliable ally with her, she felt an unfamiliar feeling: confidence.
-O-
The sun ditched them roughly three quarters into their journey; the moon was most of the way up when Mara and Preston caught sight of Lexington.
Even from their distance, the aura of danger was palpable. Deep in the shadows granted by night, Mara sensed faint movement, heard rumblings and low hisses. As they crept through the decayed streets, she saw more. Felt more.
Bodies, some riddled with bullets, some torn and eaten. Faint shots of raiders in the distance. The sensation that they were being watched. Before the war she'd never been to Lexington, so her perceptions weren't coloured; to her, this place seemed squarely, unambiguously, like a place she didn't want to be...and it didn't seem to want her either.
As Preston had been here before, she let him lead the way through the night-stricken streets. They ducked into the odd alley to dodge raider patrols, avoided other alleys for reasons unknown to Mara (All Preston said was 'ghouls', while gesturing to corpses in the alleys that looked like every other corpse), and somehow managed to keep themselves hidden.
After Mara shone her Pip Boy light into another alley, and the illumination revealed it to be clear, she and Preston headed in, staying low and keeping their weapons close. Gesturing for Preston to stay back and watch her six, Mara crept forward, and opened the back door of what looked to have been a bakery. She shone her Pip Boy light in, her 10mm resting on the device and pointing forward, just in case. The door led into an old kitchen, devoid of life. She gestured, and Preston came up. Slowly, the two of them entered, quietly shutting the door behind them.
"So...I couldn't help but notice something." Preston whispered as Mara checked every exit.
"Not the time for small talk, Preston." She hissed back. The first door led into a small storeroom. Dead end.
"Sorry, I know." He replied as he checked a door on the other side of the room. Beyond lay a corridor with a collapsed ceiling. "But I just have to ask." Mara checked the last door. It led out into a dining area; the main floor of the bakery.
"What?" She asked, quietly giving in.
"Well it's just...don't take this the wrong way..." Always the best way to preface a statement. "...but...well...normally you're so..." He spent a few seconds searching for a way to phrase what he was trying to say. "...skittish." She frowned at him, and he attempted to backpedal. "I mean...you're so on edge, and anxious, like the whole world's your enemy and it scares you." Mara tried to summon the indignation she knew she should feel, but honestly he hadn't said anything wrong yet.
"Is there a point to this?"
"It's just...you're like that normally...but then you get into an intense situation...like any of your fights yesterday, the whole thing with the deathclaw, hell, what we're currently doing...and you turn into a completely different person." Mara turned away, sensing where he was going with this and not liking it. "You become, like...laser focused, and deadly. Just...cold as ice. It's impressive, and kinda scary, but I was just wondering..."
"It's not a nice thing, Preston." Mara warned. "The explanation won't make you smile."
"Something doesn't have to make you smile to be worth knowing." He retorted. She was silent for a while, then let out a deep, heavy sigh before speaking.
"When I was..." A killer for the United States government. "...a soldier...I went through some horrible, traumatic things. I got dumped into some of the most dangerous, terrifying, fucked up situations you can imagine, told to kill and destroy and left to it. The first few missions, I froze, vomited, you name it. I had to practically be dragged through by my squadmates. I couldn't bear it. Eventually though..." She looked down at the pistol at her hand, gaze dispassionate and focused. "...I learned how to deal." Preston didn't seem to be following, so she elaborated. "I...developed a sort of...mindset. I called it the Calm. When I entered a dangerous situation, the Calm would take over, and I'd sort of...go on autopilot. The Calm would block out everything non-essential; stress, fear, anxiety, doubt, you name it. It'd lock them away, leaving me with just my focus, and my training. I'd flow through the fight, the mission, focused entirely on surviving and completing my objective. Then, when it was over, and I was safe, the Calm would leave, and I'd return...and I'd feel everything I blocked, all come back, all at once." Preston stared at her, and her left hand sheepishly held her right arm. "I left it behind for a while, but...given recent events..."
BANG.
"At least we still have the backup."
The hand squeezed her arm until it hurt.
"...I've started relying on the Calm again." She let that hang for a while, let Preston process it. When he only gawked at her, she made an annoyed noise, before letting go of her arm and turning away. "Forget it." She said, harsher than intended. Thought he wouldn't be like one of those ignorant pricks who stared gormlessly at the PTSD girl, but what the fuck ever. "Let's get..."
"Sorry." Preston cut in, causing her to look over her shoulder at him. "Just...that was more than I was expecting." She huffed.
"Told you it wouldn't be pleasant."
"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I asked..." She turned away again. "But...and, again, don't take this the wrong way..." She rolled her eyes. "That...'Calm' thing...it sounds...a little unhealthy." She let out a bitter half laugh.
"You don't need to tell me." Before Preston could respond, Mara started moving, and he fell into step behind her.
They left the bakery, and once she'd confirmed the streets were safe, she let him lead the way again. The two of them crept quietly down a darkened, deserted main street, when...
"Wait, hang on." Preston grabbed Mara's arm, and pulled the two of them behind a nearby building. He released her as fast as he could, but didn't miss the anxious, uncomfortable look that the physical contact caused. "Sorry." He said quietly. "Didn't want to trigger you, but, well..." He leaned out behind the building, and gestured for Mara to look too. She followed his gaze, and he pointed two fingers ahead and up, to a walkway overhead, extending between two tall buildings. Mara couldn't see much in the gloom, but Preston was very obviously on guard. "There's a guy up there - we ran into him last time - with a Fat Man. Nasty piece of shit." He looked back to her. "A Fat Man's...
"I know what a Fat Man is." Mara replied, again harsher than she'd intended.
"Oh...right." She once again took the lead, ducking into a nearby alley and prompting Preston to follow. "You probably know more about this stuff than I do, huh?" She shrugged.
"Possibly." By running across the street on the other side, ducking into another alley, and working their way around, they managed to completely bypass Fat Man Bridge. Preston expressed gratitude and disbelief that they'd been able to completely avoid running into any ghouls. Mara still had no idea what ghouls were, but was too Calm to question it.
Eventually, Corvega's shadow loomed over them, and they found the fateful sewer tunnel. Extra careful, Mara shone her Pip Boy light in, then chucked a big rock into the pipe. It clattered and resounded in the cramped space, but she heard no stirrings, shouts or footsteps in response.
"Clear." She said quietly.
"Alright." Preston put one hand on the exterior of the pipe, ready to climb in. "Guess I'll..." Mara stepped past him completely, crouching low and creeping into the darkness. "...follow you." He muttered, before crouch walking after Mara.
The way ahead was dark, but the Sole Survivor didn't dare turn on her Pip Boy light, just in case there was something waiting for them. The tunnel reeked of mould, waste and decay, but the Calm helped her power through. As they reached a bend in the pipe, she started to gesture for Preston to stop, then realised he wouldn't see. She considered laying a hand out to stop him, but the idea of physical contact made her nauseous, so instead she shot an elbow back. A quiet but pained grunt told her Preston had gotten the memo.
"Sorry." She whispered, shaking off the Calm slightly. After taking a moment to let her vision adjust to the gloom, she held a hand up. "Can you see me?" Preston gave a quiet affirmative, and she poked her head around the bend. The way ahead was mostly clear, but she noticed dark shapes, lumps sticking out of the filthy sewer water. She gestured for Preston to peek too, before looking ahead. "See those, in the water? What are they?"
"Not sure." He whispered back. "Corpses, maybe?"
"No. They're bloated sure, but they don't float like corpses. And see that?" She gestured to one of the smaller lumps. "It's twitching; slight, but regular. About half a second of movement every two seconds." Preston followed her gaze for a few seconds. After about ten, he seemed to see what she was talking about.
"Oh, yeah."
"Any ideas?" He thought for a few moments. When he spoke, he sounded...worried.
"Ghouls." He said briefly. "Only thing I can think of. Too big to be a mole rat, too still and bloated to be a raider playing dead, no other creatures would be in this random pipe. Gotta be ghouls."
"Okay, I've been meaning to ask this for a while." She turned to Preston. "...What the fuck is a ghoul?" Preston chuckled, before immediately slapping a hand to his mouth. One of the lumps stirred, and the two of them ducked back around the corner. In that split second, Mara saw a rotted face peeking their way, before they hid, and she lost sight of it. They stayed still for what felt like several minutes. Mara heard brief movements, a quiet sloshing of dirty water, then silence. She peeked again. The thing had returned to its original position.
"Definitely ghouls." Preston said, next to her, she looked at him, silently asking the question again. "Ghouls are...well..." He thought for a moment. "...they're humans, at the base level, I guess...or they used to be. When a human gets exposed to a large amount of radiation, either gradually or all at once, and they don't just die, it...changes them. It gets a hold, twists, and moulds their bodies. Skin flakes away, hair thins or falls out altogether, noses just drop right off. Eventually, they look more like walking corpses than actual living beings, hence the name 'ghouls'. It also has some weird side effects; instead of hurting them, radiation heals them. Also, they age much, much slower. There are some ghouls who were around before the war; they got a face full of atomic hellfire, and somehow survived, living to this very day. Most ghouls, they're just people; not a delight to look at and usually a bit bitter about the whole thing, but mostly normal. But then you get 'feral' ghouls. With ferals, the radiation didn't just rot their body, it rotted their brains too. They became rabid, mindless monsters, obsessed only with killing anything they come across, hence the name 'feral ghoul'." Mara took a few moments to process all that information. She couldn't help but muse that this world seemed to get more bizarre and terrifying by the second. As if the 15-foot tall lizard and two headed cow wasn't enough, now we have literal zombies...She put a hand to her head, fighting off an anxiety induced headache.
"So those lumps up ahead...I guess it's too much to hope that they're the regular, 'human' kind of ghouls?" Preston let out a chuckle, much quieter and more subdued than the previous one.
"Probably, yeah."
"So...that's a pack of feral ghouls. About six."
"Yeah."
"How much of a threat are they?"
"Well, like I said, they're mindless. Or, that's the theory, anyway. They make pretty good ambush predators for creatures that are 'mindless', but..." Noticing Mara's hard look, he got to the point. "...sorry. Anyway, their strategy is to run up and claw and bite at you. Problem is, they're fast and surprisingly sturdy. Only a good shot to the head is guaranteed to take them out; they're likely to power through just about anything else." Terrific. Feeling the cold touch of the Calm spread down her spine, Mara looked ahead, fully taking stock of the situation and developing a plan.
"How fast can your musket shoot?" She asked Preston.
"Well, depends. I have to crank before each shot; one crank for a low power shot, two for a higher power one. I can crank out level one shots and fire quickly, but then I won't be able to do much damage. Alternatively I could crank out level twos, but then they'd probably swarm us." Mara's brain whirred, calculated, computed. After a few moments, she grabbed her rifle.
"Crank level twos. Cover me." Before Preston could respond, Mara stepped out, stood up as much as she could, and shot one of the lumps.
A shrill, horrifying shriek echoed down the pipe, and half a dozen shapes, one with a bullet hole in it, lumbered to their feet. Pitch black eyes glared at Mara in the gloom, and she raised her rifle before firing high. One of the creatures' heads exploded, and the five remaining ghouls charged.
Their movements were unnatural and grotesque, more befitting marionettes with their strings cut than actual living beings. They crudely lumbered down the pipe, far, far quicker than their bloated bodies or clumsy movements should have allowed them to. Holding her pipe rifle steady, Mara shot another in the head, but the pack was still coming, not breaking stride in the slightest. As the two in front were dead, she had hoped the others would trip over their corpses, but no luck on that front.
Suddenly, one flew through the air, throwing itself at the Sole Survivor with a flabby arm outstretched, the limb and its shoulder aiming to split her in half at the waist. Mara was startled, but the Calm wasn't, and it directed her body to move to the side. She stepped left, and the creature flew past her, landing face first in the muck. Preston stomped on its skull, and she fired again, taking out a fourth.
A fifth primed to leap, when a sudden WHOOMPH passed Mara's left ear, half deafening her. For a moment, a bright, red light illuminated the tunnel, then the ghoul vanished in a cloud of ash.
The sixth and final feral got an abrupt burst of energy, and lunged violently at Mara. Once again, the Calm directed her, and she moved to meet the ghoul's charge, rifle outstretched. The monster threw itself right onto her bayonet, impaling its throat on the tip. To Mara's disgust, the fiend wriggled and struggled, imbedding itself further onto the blade but not giving up, swiping and biting at her despite its predicament. She kept it at arm's length, before an energy blast hit the creature in the temple, and it disintegrated. Just like that, they were alone.
Mara leaned back against the right hand wall of the pipe, taking a moment to catch her breath as the Calm faded somewhat. Behind her, she heard Preston, like her, panting tiredly.
"You okay?" She asked. Looking over her shoulder slightly, she saw him, head down and hands on his knees, stick one hand up to give an exhausted, relieved thumbs up.
"Pitch black tunnel, horde of feral ghouls running at you, no room to move, no space to retreat...easily in the top five worse situations you could find yourself in; no wastelander would want to take our place, I'll tell you that much." He looked up, flashing her an audacious grin. "But not only did we take it on, we nailed it." The last Minuteman stood up fully, musket held over his shoulder as he gave her an appraising look. "You handled that amazingly, Mara." She didn't respond, looking away sheepishly. "Just...who the hell trained you, anyway?"
"...Bad people." Before Preston could ask her to elaborate, Mara stood up. The Calm came back, and she led the way down the Pipe. "Let's move." Seemingly undeterred, Preston loyally followed.
As they turned another bend in the pipe, they noticed two things coming from up ahead: light, and voices.
"You hear that? Sounded like gunshots coming from down the pipe." A nervous voice said. Up ahead, at the end of the path, sat a rough looking door. She'd seen amateur DIY jobs that looked less flimsy, but it was at least too tough to knock down, and appeared to be lined with rusty spikes.
"Probably some more dumbasses who thought they could sneak in. The ghouls will have them for lunch." A second, more confident voice spoke, its tones muffled by the structure ahead of them. Light filtered in under the door, showing them the way.
"Gotta say, luring those things into the pipe was the best decision Jared ever made." A third voice spoke, sounding amused and a little drunk. "Free security, and we don't have to do a damn thing." Mara put a finger to her lips to motion for Preston to stay quiet, and after he repeated the gesture, she slinked up to the door, before inspecting the lock. It was hefty, but less than complex. Holding up a finger to signal Preston to wait, she dug into her pockets, and located a bobby pin.
"But...what if they...come up the pipe, after us?" The first voice said again, prompting an annoyed grunt from the second.
"That's what the door's for, you moron. I've never met a feral that could pick a lock, have you?" As she quietly picked the lock, Mara looked over her shoulder at Preston.
"Sounds like three, maybe more." She whispered. "We have the element of surprise." She gestured for him to come closer, and as he crouched next to her, she started speaking quickly. "Here's the play: in about thirty seconds I'll have this door open, then we storm in. Strategy is shock and awe. Only crank level one shots; we want to hit them hard and fast, surprise them, strike violently, and keep the pressure while they're on the back foot so they get stuck on it and can't rally. I'll lead, you cover with quick laser blasts. We'll empty that room, then press the advantage. Clear?" To her surprise and pleasure, Preston nodded. If her fast words and slightly complex strategy had confused him, he didn't show it. "Okay." She said, impressed. "After we clear this floor, split up. You clear the other floors, I'll find the boss. Meet up on the roof." The lock clicked, and the door started to open. Mara gave him a meaningful look, and mimed 'Shock and awe.' Preston nodded.
The door opened, and the two of them rushed through. They roared, the enemies screamed, gunshots echoed, and all hell swiftly broke loose.
-O-
Jared was not having a good day.
Most wastelanders typically think being a raider boss is easy. Fun, even. Sit on a throne made of bones, have your thugs go into the world to plunder riches, drink wine from a goblet made of the skull of one of your enemies, do chems and fuck bitches all day, kill anyone who even looks at you funny, and basically live like a king. Well, in Jared's experience that was a bunch of crap. 50% true, at most. The other 50% was trying to get a bunch of idiots to complete simple tasks, managing everything like he was running a goddamn business because none of these chemmed up morons knew their asses from their elbows, and finding a way to keep the chems to himself and run his secret psychic power experiments without everyone thinking he was crazy.
He imagined most raider kings didn't have the last issue, but there was their folly, not his.
Even now, thirty odd years later, he still remembered her face. Those pale grey eyes had seemed to stare into his soul, and as a kid they'd been the most terrifying thing he'd ever seen. That weird woman, wearing a fortune teller's outfit, had looked into young Jared's eyes, and told him: 'Kid, you're gonna be a monster.' She'd been right about that.
She'd been right about other things too, like when she said raiders would attack that night, slaughter the parents, take the children, take him. Looking back, he could live it all over again, see the flames, smell the smoke, hear the screams, laughs and gunshots, taste the blood. He wondered if it had been like that for that fortune telling bitch, but the other way around. He wondered if, in that moment she looked at him, eyes twinkling as the Jet circulated in her system, she lived all that shit before it happened.
However it had happened, she had seen it. The crazy bitch had predicted it all, and he'd never forgotten. He'd spent years thinking about that gift of hers, pondering it, dreaming of possessing that kind of power. If he could see the future, none of those other two-bit chumps would have a prayer. He'd take it all; the Commonwealth, the world, anything and everything. But first, he had to get this damned Sight to work.
Hence the aforementioned experiments.
He was sure the others thought he was some kind of rabid chem fiend, but he didn't care. Those ignorant chucklefucks could think whatever he wanted about him; he ruled them, and once these experiments bore some fucking fruit, he'd rule a lot more than just them.
After they'd set up here, Jared had spent weeks just stuffing all manner of chems into his body, day in and day out. For a time, this room had been packed with buckets, because he'd filled the fuckers up quickly. How he hadn't ODed, he had no fucking clue, but his arms looked like pincushions, and he'd lost all feeling in both. It had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to figure out that it wasn't the chems that caused the visions. That bitch had huffed, smoked and swallowed all manner of shit, and every time she'd had a vision, but eventually he realised that the chems weren't the giver of the power, they were just the catalyst. The Sight was just something you had to have. So he'd stopped slowly killing himself, and started a recruitment drive.
Idiots came by the bucketload, lured in by the promise of free chems, unaware that they were just his test subjects. Dear old Pa had been a scientist in the old town, before the raiders came, and while he hadn't spent much time with his son, he had found the time to instil in young Jared the importance of the scientific method. So he'd run his experiments properly, like an actual fucking scientist. He'd been careful, minimized external factors, picked his subjects carefully, administered the treatment, and examined them closely for results. Sure, the 'treatment' was 'loading the fuckers up with enough drugs to drop a yao gui', but he'd gone about it properly. Pa would've been proud...or less indifferent, at least.
Results were mixed to negative. Some fuckers were barely affected by the chems, but needy enough to want more and vicious enough to kill for it, so he'd inducted them into the crew. Some had handled it alright, but were just useless junkies and showed no potential, so he'd fed them to the feral ghouls in the pipe. Some had ODed or tried to steal from him; in either event, they'd gone into the pipe too. All in all, they'd swelled their ranks, bolstering the force with some batshit crazy junkie berserkers who he could control with chems, but his experiments had gotten nowhere. And it was starting to royally piss him off.
Then, a ray of hope.
A scout had run back, reporting a small group of what looked like settlers heading towards Concord. Included in their numbers was some idiot with a cowboy hat (Gristle was obsessed with obtaining that thing. He always was fucking weird; why else would he name himself 'Gristle'?) and an old woman wearing a fortune teller's outfit. It was her. He'd known it the second he heard the words. It was fate, of course it was. She'd probably seen this too, likely knew he was coming, knew that it was her destiny to help him with these damned experiments, help him get the power he deserved. He'd sent Gristle and a horde of vicious bastards to rip those settlers to shreds and bring him the fortune teller.
That was yesterday. He hadn't heard from Gristle since. Only one guy had made it back, and he'd rambled about how the advance force got slaughtered by some chick in a vault jumpsuit, then she jumped in some power armour, and was destroying the reinforcements when a deathclaw showed up. Apparently, between all the raiders, the demented hell lizard, and the vault chick, she had emerged victorious.
The guy was either high, lying, insane, or all three. Jared had settled for shotgunning his feet off and throwing him into the ghoul pipe. His screams had been loud, but it had been a good laugh, and his men had learned an important lesson: don't try to BS the boss.
A chick fresh out of a vault killed a whole raid crew and a fucking deathclaw. Yeah. Sure. Jared thought as he sat in his office, filthy boots up on the rusted ass terminal in front of him. BS aside though, he still had no idea where Gristle was. He was a weird, rat faced piece of shit, but Gristle was good at what he did, which was primarily kill people and not get killed himself. No way Granny Fortune and her pack of dumbshits had managed to kill him, never mind several dozen raiders too. Pushing the thought away, Jared puffed out smoke, before stubbing his cigarette in the ashtray next to him. Whatever. If the jackass isn't back by tomorrow morning, I'll send some of the new blood out scouting to see if they can find him; be good practice for them. Groaning, he stretched his arms over his head, popping the joints. Then something started beeping.
It took him a few moments to realise it was the alarm built into the spotlights on the roof of his office. If the spotlights detected anything unusual, they started beeping. It was an occasionally annoying, glitchy as fuck system, but it had its uses. Sighing, Gristle got to his feet, before picking up the microphone next to his terminal.
"Somebody check that out." He growled into the mic. His voice travelled over the intercom, to the factory floor below his office. This room of his would've belonged to the foreman back when this place had been a factory, and he had a view of everything going on down on the floor. Once, pre-war cars had been built right here, but now the machines were silent, the half-finished cars just taking up space. He had two goons down there, and as his gravelly voiced travelled from on high down to them, they set about looking for the cause of the alarm. Jared was alone up here, but that was fine with him; there was no-one he really trusted to be up at his level, at his side. To make sure no-one even tried it, he'd retracted the bridge between the stairs and the catwalk where his office lay, and he had two turrets on top to dissuade anyone from getting any funny ideas.
He practically had his own little fortress up here, in the heart of his bigger fortress. Even if there was a reason this alarm was going off, even if some dumb fucker had decided to step to the future king of the Commonwealth, it didn't matter. They'd never reach him, and he'd make sure they died screaming.
Jared smirked, and allowed himself a little chuckle as he lit up another cigarette and stood in front of the window, looking out over his domain.
"Kid, you're gonna be a monster." Smoke billowed out of his mouth as he flashed a downright feral grin. Heh. You had no idea. Jared laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
Then he screamed.
Suddenly, the glass in front of him exploded, shards flying every which way, and he was dimly aware of an intense pain in his right collarbone before he was thrown back. A few seconds later, the world caught up, a hammer blow slammed into his right shoulder, and he screamed. Jared landed in a heap in the middle of his office, vision flickering, blood pouring from the wound in his collar, and he dimly realised he'd been shot.
Son of a bitch! Unable to bring air to his lungs or sound to his lips, he settled for roaring furiously in his head instead. Forcing his aching body up, Jared drunkenly stumbled to his desk, to the microphone. As he neared, he looked out the window, and saw something, down on the factory floor. It was hidden in the shadows, but he could've sworn he saw a muzzle flash. Something clunked outside the office, and the speaker fell off. He froze, sweat running down his brow, as he realised he couldn't call for help.
Left hand pressed against his clavicle to stop the flow of blood, he grabbed his modified pipe pistol from the desk, ducked low, and moved to the shattered window. Peeking up, he turned his gaze downward, searching the shadows. He saw no muzzle flash, no shadowy figure moving, no nothing. Gradually, his voice started to return. Standing up, he opened his mouth, and shouted to his goons on the floor below.
"INTRUD..."
The factory floor exploded. He ducked back, heat searing his face even from up here, as something hit one of the cars, and its reactor went haywire, causing the volatile machine to violently explode. As the car detonated, it triggered a chain reaction, and before Jared knew what was happening, every car was exploding, one by one. The roar was devastating, the factory floor was blown apart, machinery ripped to shreds, and his mooks were sent flying. Jared ducked low again, trying to calm down while also trying to stop himself from passing out.
Gradually, the explosions stopped...only to be replaced by a new din, as his turrets opened fire. Jared leaned up to look over the edge of the window frame, only to immediately duck low. A bullet flew through the window, inches above where he'd been moments ago, and he decided to stay down. The air was filled with the roar of his turrets' gunfire, shaking the roof over his head as they relentlessly sprayed at their target. A few opposing gunshots were barely heard over the racket, then some small explosions from above, then silence. Just like that, Jared was alone.
His heart beat violently in his chest, and as more and more blood leaked out, he felt himself growing dizzy, the world around fading away. Everything flickered, then he was face down on the floor. The blood from his collarbone was pooling around him, and he barely had the strength to raise his head. A low, mechanical whir met his ears, and it took his brain a lot longer than it should have to place the sound. The bridge. Someone was extending the bridge.
He heard footsteps, and barely managed to turn his head towards the door of his office. A woman entered. His vision was fading, so he could barely see her, but the colour blue smacked him in the face. Some chick in a vault jumpsuit. He stared, horrified, as her soulless green eyes drifted over to him. The raider king Jared tried to move, raise his gun, do anything, but he couldn't. Her first shot had seen to that. She'd planned this whole thing out from the start, debilitating him as easily as plucking the wings off a butterfly, before systematically dismantling his defences, and leaving him helpless.
Slowly, she pointed her pipe rifle down at him. No emotion met her eyes. He knew that look, better than anyone. She wouldn't even blink, doing this.
"Kid, you're gonna be a monster." She'd been right, he did grow up to be a monster. She'd neglected to tell him something else, though. She never mentioned that there were other monsters in the world, creatures scarier than him that would eat him right up. She'd never mentioned one would find him.
As the green eyed creature before him pulled the trigger, Jared wondered if the old woman had seen this coming too.
-O-
On the roof of Corvega, gunshots and WHOOMPHs echoed throughout the area, as the last Minuteman tangled with the remaining raiders. One thug screamed as a fully charged laser bolt hit him in the chest. His frenzied cries turned to a whistle on the wind, as his body became dust on the roof. He was hardly the last though, and Preston Garvey cracked his shoulders, before cranking his laser musket as more raiders charged.
The ones on the walkways above were doing their best to shoot him, but due to the angle their bullets couldn't find his hide; all he had to worry about were the goons on ground level. A burly raider swung an aged bat at his skull, but Preston swayed under the strike, hands never leaving the crank of his rifle. As he wound the charge up to level 2, he shoulder-barged the goon back a step, before moving his finger from the crank to the trigger. Movement from the corner of his eye caught his attention however, and he stepped back.
A second raider swung a hatchet in a downward arc just where he'd been standing moments ago. Not missing a beat, Preston entered the thug's space, and shot his knee up into the man's gut, before sending yellow teeth flying by introducing the butt of his musket to the man's jaw. The raider fell against his friend with the bat, and Preston flipped his musket so that it was pointed at them, before pulling the trigger. There was a blinding flash of light, then dust where the two men had been.
He didn't get a chance to rest, as a jarring pain hit him in the back, knocking him forward. Judging from the feel, he guessed it was a low caliber round; his coat had softened the hit, then his armour lined waistcoat had taken the rest. Hand a blur on the musket's crank, he turned towards the gunman, only to have to adjust his plan as a goon came from the same direction, and slashed at him with a machete.
Holding his rifle horizontally, Preston parried the strike, before rolling to the side to dodge a second shot from the gunman. Annoyingly, a third prick came at him, a big guy armed with a sledgehammer. After hopping back to dodge Hammer Guy's downward swing, he sidestepped Machete Guy's strike, and kicked him in the leg, causing him to stumble. The musket was only charged to level 1, but that would have to do; he swiftly took aim, and fired a shot at the gunman. It was never going to do any real damage, but it forced the guy into cover, allowing Preston to catch his breath. Hammer Guy came his way again, but Preston entered his space, limiting the effectiveness of his weapon. His hand never left the crank as he repeatedly swung the butt of the rifle into the big man's chest. The raider didn't falter however, and shoved the haft of his hammer forward, pushing Preston back a few feet, before winding up a home run swing with his hammer. A feral cry behind Preston caught his attention, and he turned to see Machete Guy coming at him. At the last second, he darted to the side, causing Hammer Guy's swing to hit Machete Guy in the chest. As the smaller thug went down, Preston fired a level 1 shot into the bigger goon's leg. Hammer Guy stumbled, and the Minuteman leapt up, before swinging his rifle, full force, into his larger foe's jaw.
Hammer Guy fell like a great oak, but Machete Guy was already up, and rushed Preston like a rabid dog, swinging his blade like a man possessed and giving his foe absolutely no time to charge his weapon. As he dodged, ducked and blocked the seemingly endless strikes, Preston looked to the side slightly, and saw the gunman lining up another shot. Thinking on the fly, he flitted to the side to dodge another strike, before grapping his hat, and flinging it at his foe. The hat flopped onto the man's face, obscuring his view for approximately a second, two at most, before he batted it aside. In that instant, Preston cranked his laser musket up to level 1, and when the goon could see again, he saw a barrel, crackling with red energy, pressed against his chest. Wearing an expression of stone, Preston fired, blowing a hole through the raider's torso and sending him flying.
Without any friendlies in the way, the gunman started firing, but without any hostiles bothering him, Preston started cranking. His hands became a blur on the crank of his weapon as he ran to the side, dodging shots from the raider's pipe rifle. Hammer Guy started stirring, but Preston ignored him, ending his run in a slide across the ground. The musket charged to level 2, and Preston ended his slide by rolling into a crouch, spending a split second lining up his shot, and loosing a large red blast at the enemy. The man didn't even have time to scream before a bolt of energy bigger than his head turned him to dust on the wind.
Preston took a moment to close his eyes, let out a sigh of relief, and catch his breath. His downtime was soon interrupted however as a leg like a tree trunk crashed into his chest, knocking him from his crouch onto his back and sending his rifle clattering away. Preston gasped, and started coughing as pain shot through his ribs and his lungs screamed. Hammer Guy stood over him, sans namesake but wearing an angry sneer along with a bloody, shattered nose. He snarled, before stomping a massive boot downward. Preston rolled to the side before his skull could become soup, before getting to his feet and running for his rifle. Hammer Guy grabbed the Minuteman by the coat before he could reach it however, before flinging Preston across the roof. He landed painfully a few feet away, minus his coat, and Hammer Guy threw the white garment away, before stomping towards him. Finding his hat on the floor nearby, Preston picked it up as he got to his feet, and deposited it back on his head before raising his fists in a boxing stance, and inviting Hammer Guy to bring it.
The ogre glared at him, and let out a terrifying roar...before crying out and recoiling forwards.
Behind him, Mara had shoved her bayonet deep into his back, interrupting his charge and forcing him to scramble away from her. As the blade slid loose, she let her rifle hang, before slowly approaching the man. He had to be about two feet taller than her, towering over her narrow frame, but to Preston's surprise, she didn't seem too concerned. She didn't even draw her knife.
Clearly less than pleased that she'd just shivved him, the brute swung a meaty fist at her. Preston stared as Mara moved with shocking speed, stepping around the man's blow, before launching herself at his arm. In a blur of movement, she wrapped around his limb, and they seemed to flip. Suddenly, he was on his back on the floor, and Mara had her hands on his wrist, and her knees wrapped around his arm, keeping his limb in place and stopping him from moving.
"Preston!" She shouted over to him. "Musket!" After taking a few seconds to process what had just happened, the Minuteman nodded, before running over to his gun. The burly raider tried to break free, but Mara seemingly had him stuck. Despite his thrashing and struggles, Mara stayed attached to his arm, and with a wrench of his wrist, she caused him to stop moving, instead crying out in pain. Roaring like an enraged yao gui, the man redoubled his efforts, trying to pry his arm from Mara's grip. "Any time, Preston!" She called over. The Minuteman grabbed his rifle, and sprinted over, cranking the charge all the while. The musket hit level 2 as he reached them, and he pointed it down, before firing a fully charged bolt at the trapped raider. The man's look of shock was illuminated red, and suddenly Mara was holding dust. She coughed as some blew into her face, before lying back on the roof, and laughing. "Took your time there." She quipped. It took Preston a few seconds to respond, as he was too busy staring at her.
"The hell was that?" He asked, stunned. "That guy was like twice your size, but in the time it took me to blink, you had him on the floor. How did you do that?"
"It's called an armbar." Mara responded, before holding out a hand. Preston smiled, before helping her to her feet. "Learned it in basic training." She grinned proudly. "I was top of the class in CQC." She held up her hands, doing her best to demonstrate the hold. "Basically, you grab the guy's arm, and extend your legs across his chest to gain leverage. Then you use your thigh or hip to hyper extend his joint." She mimed twisting. "Against most guys I probably could have dislocated the elbow or broken the arm, but that fucker was strong, and I'm rusty. I had maybe five seconds before he broke out."
"Didn't look like it." Preston responded, gazing at the dust pile where the raider had once been. "Looked like he was completely at your mercy." Mara shrugged.
"Meh. No hold is perfect." She stretched her arms over her head for a moment. Once she'd had a moment to collect herself, Preston saw her visibly focus again. Guess that 'Calm' of hers is back. He thought. "Give me a sitrep." He looked at her, confused, and she visibly bit back a sigh. "Report on the situation." Preston's face turned to an expression that said 'Oooh'.
"All the raiders down here have been neutralised." He tipped his hat back and looked up. "More up there. My guess is around five or six, but that's a rough estimate."
"Okay." Cool and collected, Mara led the way to the stairs. "Let's move." For a few seconds, Preston watched her go, wondering just who on earth Mara Miller was. Then he collected himself, adjusted his hat, picked up his coat, and followed.
-O-
The rest didn't take long. Loath as Mara was to admit it, she had experience in systematic elimination, and was quite good at it. She had a feeling Preston could tell, though.
At the very apex of the walkways, atop Corvega's towering peak, a raider found himself forced against a railing, arm wrenched behind his back and howling in pain. As Preston fired a fully charged bolt at his friend and turned the man to dust, Mara adjusted her grip ever so slightly, broke the last raider's wrist, put a second arm under his leg, and flipped him over the railing. The goon screamed for several seconds as he plummeted, before a sickening crunch was heard, and all was silent.
The Calm receded, and Mara breathed.
"Well...that's that." Preston said, standing next to her and looking at the carnage they'd wrought. "That sure was...efficient." The Sole Survivor winced.
"My time as a soldier wasn't exactly...fun." She said, placing her arms atop the railing and leaning forward to lay her chin on them. "The guys I worked for weren't like the Minutemen. They said there were there to help people, but really we were just sent to deal with private interests. They had us do some pretty horrible things." Next to her, Preston leaned back against the railing, looking at her. "I hated what we were doing, it made me sick to my stomach...but I stayed." She pressed her face against her arms, hiding it from the world. "I stayed and I did what they said, because it was a life, which was more than I had before." She sighed. "And because Nate was there."
"Your husband?" She froze, realising what she'd said, before slowly nodding. Silence stretched for a while. Way up there, it felt like they were at the top of the world, gentle breeze serving as their only companion. "Believe it or not, I can relate." Preston said, causing her to roll her head so one eye peeked out, and look dubiously at him. "I had no purpose, no nothing, for so long...then I met the Minutemen and it was everything I ever wanted. Near the end, when it was falling apart, and corruption was spreading like a cancer, I stayed, because I believed in the dream, I had nothing else, and I truly loved the Minutemen." He smiled wanly at her. "I still do." Preston took his hat off, and looked up at the sky. "You might not like where you got your skills, but take it from an outside observer who's seen and been in his fair share of fights: they're damn impressive. And now, you can use them for the right reasons, fighting the right fights, helping people."
"...Like my son." Mara said slowly, realisation flowing through her.
"Yeah." Preston said, smile brightening. "He's still out there, I know it, and with what I've seen from you, I know you'll find him." After a few seconds, Mara stood up, wearing a small, but radiant smile.
"Thanks, Preston."
"Any time." He slung his rifle over his shoulder. "Shall we head back?"
"In a minute." Mara said, turning to look back off the roof. "A view like this is rare. Let's enjoy it." Preston smirked.
"Can't argue with that." The two looked out onto the horizon, and for a short while, the troubles, dangers and horrors of the world failed to reach them.
-O-
By the time they'd reached the ground again, night was in full swing, the sky above inky and black, and a mild wind had picked up. It bit at them as they walked down the stairs outside Corvega, looking up at the starless sky, and the towers they'd just ascended.
"We just killed forty people." Mara said, more to herself than anyone else. With the Calm long gone, she felt every life she'd extinguished. Her first kill had been one of the worst moments of her entire life, but she'd just killed so many more. It was so...easy for her now, so calculated, and that scared her. The guilt was crushing...but it wasn't as strong as it should have been. It should have been paralysing her, tearing up her insides, but instead she just felt tired and strained, like she'd just done a moderately intense workout. Taking a life was a horrible thing...so if she was getting used to it, just what did that say about her?
"If it helps, raiders aren't people." Preston commented. "They're rabid dogs." Mara looked at him, not sure what to say.
"But...they're still living beings, right? They have hopes and dreams?"
"Most folk have hopes and dreams, but they don't pillage, rape and murder." Preston said evenly, pulling the brim of his hat down. "Mara, some folk..." He sighed. "...some folk are better just removed from the world." She stared quietly at him, feelings fighting each other in her mind. "If all they want to do is hurt other people, best to put them in a place that they can't do that."
"And the afterlife is the most secure place there is." Preston nodded, and it was Mara's turn to sigh. "You know I don't like killing?" Another nod from Preston. "Well...I think what I'm most afraid of...is getting used to it." She sat down on the steps, looking up at the stygian void above. "...When I took my first life, someone told me it would get easier...but that didn't reassure me." Her hands clasped together, fidgeting anxiously. "Preston...I don't want it to get easier. It shouldn't. Taking a life away is one of the worst things you can do. I only ever did it because I thought it was necessary, because I had to, in order to protect myself and others, but..." Preston looked down at her, at the pain written on her face. "...I think, when you first take a life, your soul is indelibly stained black, because you've done something taboo, unforgivable, outside of man's laws and expectations. So your soul has a small, black stain...but the more you kill, the more you get used to it, the bigger the stain spreads. Soon, it becomes too much, your soul gets swallowed, and the black is all there is, the stain your very being. And you're gone. You can kill without pausing for breath. You don't care anymore." She went silent, looking down at her hands, shivering slightly against the wind. "...When I married Nate...when I stopped being a soldier...I thought I could put it all behind me, all the killing, bloodshed, horror, pain...but my soul was always stained black. Being a devoted wife and a loving mother couldn't fix it. It was just waiting for the world to go to shit, for me to be forced into another situation where I 'have no choice', so I'd feed it again, and it could spread further." She looked at the man she was starting to see as a friend, close to tears. "...Preston..." She shuddered. "...I don't want to not care. I don't want to fall that far." Preston's eyes bored into her own, and even her talent couldn't see past his gaze. Eventually, he sat down next to her.
"Mara...I don't know where you're from..." He began, surprising her. "...but it's not this world." He lifted the brim of his hat, eyes locking with hers. "In this world, the soul is rarer than the stain." Putting his rifle down and propping it against the stairs, he looked up. "I've only seen a few souls in my time, rarer than gold, and they all have some black. That's...just the way it is out here. You have to kill..."
"To survive?" She finished. A slight nod from Preston, and Mara put her head in her hands. It was her worst fear. This world was going to force her to fall, to become the killer she'd always seen in the mirror.
"...but also, to protect." Her mouth dropped open, and her head snapped back to Preston. "Mara, this whole goddamned world is stained, never mind the individual soul. Monsters and people worse than monsters roam the wastelands, making things worse for everyone." He turned back to her, jaw set firmly, and she felt the passion radiate from him. "Somebody once said: 'The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil, is for good men to do nothing.' And that's the truth." His fists clenched. "The truth, Mara, is that if we don't fight, if we don't kill these bastards, if we don't stain our souls black, then innocent people die. And if I have to fall so that they can live...then I'll fall, gladly and with a smile on my face." Mara just stared, dumbstruck, strong, confused feelings flowing through her. His words resonated with such truth, they struck at her, deeply. She was rendered speechless for some time, but gradually, she found the words.
"...You're right." Mara said, suddenly aware of a small smile on her face. Tears streaked down her face, but she wiped them away, smile not flickering. "Dammit, you're right." She looked at him, expression happy despite her pain and worry. "I'm still scared, and I don't want to fall into the abyss, but...if I spend my whole life staying away from it when I could be helping, then others will experience so much pain. I'll try to keep myself...but I want to try and help others, too." Preston matched her expression, his smile relaxed, calm, as if her revelation had never been in question. They sat like that for a few minutes, both looking up at the sky. The wind moved her hair from her eyes, and Mara stood up.
"You were right." She said abruptly. "I'm not from this world." She stood at the bottom of the steps, wind blowing her hair and rifle around. Her hands clasped behind her back, and she looked off into the distance. "I'm from 200 years ago." The world was still, the wind serving as the only noise. "The ones who trained me were the United States government. I was in the American military, where I served as a soldier, and a part of me died. I met Nathan 'Nate' Miller, the love of my life, and after surviving our tour of duty, we married. The military broke me, but I did my best to live, to try and forget. We had a child, Shaun. My beautiful baby boy." A single tear ran down her cheek. "Then, war. Some stupid, pointless war. The bombs dropped. We were one of the few who managed to get to safety, Vault 111. Except it wasn't safety. It was a cruel, pointless experiment, testing cryogenic technology. We were frozen for over 200 years. I woke up in that tube, confused, and saw a man steal my baby, and murder my husband. I was frozen again. When I awoke for a second time, that bastard was gone, Shaun was gone, and Nate was..." She swallowed down the grief, fought past the lump in her throat, and took a deep breath, before forcing herself to continue. "I stepped out of Vault 111, and headed to Concord, trying to find a trail to follow...and I met you." She turned to Preston, smiling weakly. "That's my story. Mara Miller: woman from out of time, Sole Survivor of not only Vault 111, but the pre-war world in its entirety. The only fresh human from before the war, a living relic..." Her entire posture almost collapsed, her smile turned to a flickering line. "...and a widow, missing her son, alone in this...this hell." She turned fully to Preston. "That's me." She stared straight at Preston. "You've been...well...great...so I thought you should know about me." Preston looked at her, stoic facade barely hanging on. As she watched, it cracked, blew away on the wind, and he could only gape at her in silent shock. It took him almost a minute to respond.
"...Wow." He said simply. Mara almost chuckled, even though that had been exactly the response she'd been expecting. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I have no idea how you're still standing." It was her turn to stare at him. That hadn't been a response she'd been expecting. "I mean, going through all that, losing your family, your home, your world, everything...it'd break most people, make them crumble to dust." Something flashed behind his eyes: wonder, amazement...hope. All terrifying, but this time she didn't turn away. "But you...you're still going, still fighting, despite everything." Preston honest to god beamed at her. "I think...that's pretty amazing." Mara didn't know what to say, emotions choked her, and she turned away again, trying to compose herself. Never in a million years had she expected...
Gradually, she got a hold of herself. When she turned back, she surprised Preston with a true, genuine smile.
"Thank you, Preston." She said, placing as much meaning in those three words as she possibly could.
"I'm...kind of honoured you'd trust me with all that." The last Minuteman said, getting to his feet.
"I think you've more than earned it."
"Doesn't making trusting easy." He stood next to her, and Mara's anxiety flared. The Calm tried to pull her away, warning her of a threat. She escaped its grip, and looked into his eyes.
"No, it doesn't." She gave him a wan smile. "...But I want to try." The two of them smiled at each other, a genuine moment forming. Then Mara awkwardly cleared her throat. "We should...get going..." Preston smirked, before letting her lead the way. They walked from Corvega, Mara feeling several tons lighter. The wind calmed somewhat, letting them walk in peaceful silence, enjoying the cold autumn air. Mara was slightly startled when Preston finally spoke.
"So...if you were around before the war, that'd make you..."
"200 years old." She said flatly. "...More or less."
"Wow." Mara rolled her eyes. She was dimly aware of Preston walking next to her, and her anxiety started to prickle her. Oh great, this is the part where he starts judging. Or worse, trying to sympathise. She sank in on herself, waiting, like someone anticipating a balloon about to pop. "Well, you look great, all things considered." ...What? Her head snapped to the side, and she looked at him, stunned. "I mean, my gran was 80 when she passed, and you look younger than she did." She stared blankly at him for almost ten seconds, before bursting into laughter. They stopped walking as Mara almost fell over, bending over to put her hands on her knees as she was racked with guffaws. Slowly, the laughter stopped, and she stood up, wiping a tear from her eye, but one of happiness this time. Then, she looked at the man next to her, her friend, and smiled.
"Thanks, Preston." He smiled back, and nodded. The walk back was peaceful and quiet. For the first time in a long time, Mara Miller felt...happy.
MOO.
I had way too much fun writing that brahmin scene. :D
Hopefully you can see the split here. Part one was 'Strange Roads', and was about the unusual paths Layla and Mara find themselves travelling on their quests. Part two is 'Brave New World', which is about Mara learning more about the world in which she finds herself, growing slightly more used to it, and perhaps finding a place for herself within it. Seemed an apt place to split the chapter, to me.
Oh, and one nice speech from Preston isn't going to solve all Mara's issues, just in case you were wondering. There's still plenty of mental anguish for her, don't worry.
...I'm not evil, I swear.
And to those worried she's getting more screentime than Layla, that's mostly because Layla's been travelling. Next time is a Layla chapter, and it'll kick off an increase in the red one's screentime.
On the topic of Mara though, I'm genuinely surprised how easily her dialogue with Preston comes to me. The two just click really well, both able to relate to the other's trauma and just being good friends. Considering Preston's a little...let's say 'reserved'...in the game itself, I'm glad I was able to expand on his personality and the PTSD he's no doubt suffering from. They both just need a hug, tbh.
Oh and I had to indulge myself giving Preston a a solo fight scene, because the laser musket, weird/dumb as it is, offered way too many fight coreography options for me to just ignore it. WHOOMPH.
As a side note, I imagine that when Mama Murphy saw Jared's future, she also saw Mara killing him. I bet she was chuckling to herself back in Sanctuary when Mara and Preston left, knowing full well what was going to happen. Mama Murphy's probably my favourite of the Sanctuary gang, to be honest. I think she's fun.
Also, reading back over this chapter, I noticed just how many times I used British slang phrases/terms, and I realise that that might feel out of place in a story set in America...but fuck it. I happen to be British, and I happen to very much enjoy British slang, so I decided to leave it in, and I'll probably keep using it. Sorry if that's not your cup of tea (Ha...tea...British...).
By the way, I took some liberties with the design of Corvega's sewer entrance/hadn't done the quest in a while and forgot what it actually was. In the actual game, the sewer tunnel bit is pretty spot on, except at the end there's no door, just an empty wall leading into a room with a turret. The turret room is still there in the story, but I added a door and put in more ghouls. Not the biggest change in the world, but didn't want anyone calling BS on me. I think I got the rest of Corvega and Lexington right though (Okay so I added a bakery in Lexington. Big deal).
So, as opposed to what I said last time, Chapter 9 isn't half finished. I had to move 9 and 10 around because they didn't make sense timeline wise; now Chapter 10 is nearly finished, whereas Chapter 9 hasn't been started yet. Yaaaay. On the plus side, I completed my New Years resolution and FINALLY finished Chapter 8, so you can expect that at the start of March. It'll be a Layla and Veronica adventure, so look forward to violence and flirting. Mostly flirting. Those two are insatiable.
Stay cool, folks.