"I love you, but right now I want to grab you by the shoulders and shake you silly. You know they only have three guns between them, right? I counted."

Nate looked up at his wife apologetically, right before he stepped into the frame of the power armor. She'd followed him out onto the roof after he'd kissed her and she was not having it.

"Honey, it's no different from every time I shipped out—" he began, but she cut him off.

"No. Nate—you're risking your life for a bunch of strangers when our baby is still missing?!" Her face was the definition of distraught. "You're the one that couldn't wait to get out of Sanctuary Hills, but now you want to play Captain Cosmos for these folks?" She shook her head. We should have kept going. That woman, Murphy—"

Nora trailed off, and Nate sighed impassively. It was difficult to believe that the woman had had psychic powers but she'd known his rank and that they'd been frozen. Nora had to see that.

"It was fuckin weird, Nate." She griped, crossing her arms. "What was all that crap she was saying supposed to mean? Everyone asking for help, death has horns, and then implying she knew about the vault? The only rational explanation is that these people are part of the same group that took Shaun. I just—are you listening to me?"

The armor had seen better days. It was rusting away and took more time than it should have to whir to life after he installed the fusion core. Nate sighed quietly and read the information coming up on the HUD. The armor was holding at fifty-six percent integrity. He ripped the minigun out of the wreckage of the Vertibird and wished it was a gatling laser. It had been some time since he'd worn a suit; way back during the Gobi Campaign, alongside Sullivan. He'd hated how constricting it had felt then, and he still hated it.

Yet it was something familiar.

In a world gone mad, in a world full of strange abominations that killed unprepared civilians left and right, in a world where strangers had kidnapped his infant son, a world that never should have existed, he found a measure of comfort in once again slipping on a uniform and protecting Americans from an outside threat.

But how was he to explain to his wife that this was the first thing that had made any kind of sense?

He stared at the Vertibird morosely, feeling the ghosts of his squad staring back at him.

"I hear you, Nora. Believe me." He said after a moment.

"Then why are you doing this?" she rebutted.

The sound of people whistling and hooting to each other drifted up to the roof from street level.

That's my cue, he thought. He turned to face his wife.

"I want to find Shaun as much as you, Nora. But we're going to need help, this Garvey fella and his people could help us get the lay of the land. It's a stroke of luck that there's people this close to home."

"It's not home anymore," she responded wearily. "But fine, I know you're gonna do it anyway."

"It'll be fine. I have the training for this. Just, get back inside and get ready to move with these people."

Nora put a hand on the shoulder of the armor and then headed back to the door, an unreadable look on her face.

With a little trepidation Nate put that out of his mind, walking forward and falling straight down off the roof, slamming to the concrete and raising a little cloud of dust. The readout the armor gave him showed at least a dozen heat signatures, which was cause for concern, but he doubted any of them had anything larger than small arms.

Surely there were no factories running after two centuries? How many bullets could they have?

Nate stood at attention, sweeping his gaze back and forth. For civilians they seemed to have a rudimentary grasp of tactics, fanning out, taking cover behind car wrecks and and grimy sandbags left by some long ago military installation. Most of them were armed with lead pipes, baseball bats and machetes, but there were a few pistols.

One raider leaned out over the balcony of a damaged storefront, pointing a rifle in his direction.

A few of them seemed wary, but their leader's cockiness told him they thought their numbers could take him.

"Leave." He intoned, the power armor lending a metallic resonance to his words.

The raiders ignored his command. One of them, a man with a dirty Mohawk took several steps forward and smacked a bat threateningly into his hand. He looked unwashed, his goatee scraggly and covered in dust or chalk.

"I'm Gristle. Jared's top lieutenant." he said the name like it was supposed to mean something. "You one of the feebs we've been chasing?"

"Who is Jared?" Nate asked evenly.

Gristle actually seemed shocked.

"Jared? The chem king of the Commonwealth?" Gristle sounded incredulous. "Lord of engines? Leader of the Corvega Rev-heads? Christ, you live under a rock or something?"

"A vault, actually."

"Oh you gotta be kidding me," Gristle said with a snort. "Y'hear that boys? We got us a vaultie in this suit!" They gang broke out into laughter and Nate had to wonder if there were survivors from other vaults or if these degenerates had been up to 111. Second group of people to know about vaults.

"You're trespassing in his territory, tin man."

That was when Nate realized that all of the raiders had one thing in common, white face paint; though the design ranged from a single stripe on the cheek to full on mosaic patterns. Gang colors? He supposed the future wasn't really all that different after all.

"What do you want?" he asked them.

"Heh, what does anyone want?" Gristle hooted. "We want your caps, your food, your ammo and your women. I want that yokel's cowboy hat. Fucker gave us the slip in Lexington, but not this time." He finished with a sneer. "Whaddya think about that, tin man?"

Nate crossed his arms and grinned under the helmet. The situation was ridiculous. He was a tank on legs. They were easy meat.

"I think that I have power armor and a minigun and that you sorry sons of bitches think you can take me."

To their credit, the men and women in front of him didn't seem put off by his challenge.

"Somebody got a can opener?" Gristle laughed, taking another step forward. Most of the raiders fished around in her pockets, pulling out small bottles and popping pills.

Was that buffout?

A couple of them started injecting themselves with syringes or huffing from inhalers. Nate squinted.

They weren't being serious, were they?

"This is your last chance to leave peacefully," he told them. "I won't hold back."

They started laughing again.

"You don't get it, do you, tin man? We're the rev-heads." Gristle smacked a nearby car wreck with his bat and the people with him followed suit, making noises like maniacs and hitting their weapons on any available surface.

"In death, we ride eternal, shiny and chrome." Apparently that was the cue for the rest of them to start chanting.

"Cor-Ve-Ga! Cor-Ve-Ga!"

"High-octane!"

"Vroom-Vroom Motherfucker!"

"Fucking Kill!"

"Raaah!"

"Die historic!" Gristle shouted, and all the raiders with melee weapons rushed forward as one, the few with pistols and rifle opening fire from behind old cars or from the doorways of buildings.

But Nate was ready for them. He dropped the minigun, knowing they'd be on him before it finished spinning to life.

An armored fist caught the foremost raider's first strike. The lead pipe the man was holding snapped in half, followed by his wrist. He screamed and Nate kicked hard, sending him flying and breaking his back when the force of the blow wrapped him around the pole of the nearest streetlight. The next raider caught his shoulder with a glancing blow, sparks flying as her machete skidded of the metal. Nate reared back a fist and punched her in the face, her nose shattering and caving inward as her neck snapped backwards at an awkward angle. The next pair rained down blows with their bats, failing to do much of anything. The armor's integrity was holding steady, though Nate did have to take a step back.

A bullet pinged off his helmet. Another hit one of the bat-wielding raiders in the arm and they howled. Nate grabbed both of the nearest raiders by the necks and smacked them together, dropping them to the ground like sacks of potatoes.

"You can't take us all, tin man!" Gristle shouted, having climbed on top of a car wreck. Gristle pulled a grenade out from a pouch and held it up like he'd just caught a foul ball.

"Don't be an idiot–" Nate began, but he was cut off by the sudden sound of screeching metal and a loud, inhuman roar.

The raiders froze, all of them quieting down as one. Nate's HUD registered a large heat signature at the end of the street, coming from underground and a few seconds later his eyes widened as a twelve foot tall horned lizard burst out of the ground a few dozen feet behind the stunned raiders.

"What the hell is that?" he wondered aloud.

It roared again, like a miniature dragon.

"Deathclaw!" someone shrieked. The beast seemed to consider the humans scattered in front it for a moment, and then pounced. One massive swipe separated the nearest raiders head from his body and the rest turned their attention away from Nate and towards the creature instead. Nate picked up the minigun and started to prime it. The giant insects, the moles, the crab? They all paled in comparison to this.

Laser fire crackled past him in the direction of the beast. Nate turned to see the doors to the museum wide open, the minutemen and Nora in the doorway laying down a cover fire. Not that it appeared to have much effect. Perhaps they'd intended to help him with the raiders before that thing had appeared.

Nate watched in horrified fascination as the deathclaw disemboweled a raider with its talons before using its tail to pulverize another raiders chest, snapping ribs like rotten firewood. It was the stuff of nightmares and the remaining raiders had already opened fire, Nate and his power armor forgotten as they screamed in fear and sudden desperation.

Gristle on the other hand, seemed exuberant.

"Witness me!" he screamed, running headlong at the deathclaw and clutching his grenade. He didn't get a chance to pull the pin before he got torn to pieces.

A few seconds later, the minigun finished warming up and Nate opened fire.

The bullets tore through the raiders between him and the deathclaw like tissue paper. Holes peppered the cars in the street and the nuclear engine of one started to smoke. The beast however, seemed largely unaffected. Though dark crimson spots rapidly peppered its body, it seemed more enraged than anything else, turning on a dime and bearing down on him. Nate braced himself and hoped the suit could take the hit.

It couldn't.

The first blow staggered him, knocking him back a couple steps. The second hit punctured the rusting torso of the power armor.

The beast roared in triumph as it tore the armor plating tore away. Lord have mercy, it had actually managed to stab him. The tips of its claws were a white-hot fire in his gut.

If this thing got past him, everyone in the museum was dead. Not Nora, not Nora too. He clanked away, stooping to regain control of the minigun. The beast seemed to sense this and batted it away before picking him up and slamming him onto his back.

Nate coughed and spat blood. "You are one ugly motherfucker."

The deathclaw roared in response and slammed him on the ground again before spinning around and pouncing on a raider. There was a scream that quickly turned into a gurgle.

The display on his helmet flashed a warning, armor integrity at 34 percent and failing.

What was it Sullivan used to say? All aboard the Pain train. Nate idly wondered how much blood he'd lost. The suit's internal medical pump was working overtime to flood his system with stimpaks, but that was only a stopgap measure. He needed to end and fight and quickly.

It would be risky, but he had a plan. He may have been the last active member of the United States military, but goddammit, he was still a soldier.

"Set external speakers to maximum volume," he grunted, struggling to get to his feet. For the moment, the creature had lost interest in him and was taking huge crunchy bites out of a human torso. As long as it didn't start heading towards the museum.

He ran towards the middle of the street and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"THIS WAY UGLY!"

He ran by Gristle's corpse and snatched the bloody grenade off the ground, hoping the deathclaw hadn't caught up.

But it had. The tail hit him full force in the helmet, cracking the display as he staggered backwards. It cocked its head to the side and roared at him, leaping away to eviscerate a raider that had been hiding behind a trash can. That was the opening he needed. Nate leaned on the nearest streetlight and put one foot on the back of the car the minigun had caused to start smoking. He kicked off, the hydraulics giving him a herculean like power. The car wreck slid across the street, making a grinding noise and sending up sparks as it approached the monster. The deathclaw sidestepped it, swishing its tail back and forth like a cat as it climbed onto the hood.

Nate pulled the pin and threw the grenade, the small explosive bouncing once and then going through the empty windshield of the wreck.

The force of the explosion threw him back into the wall, peppering the surrounding area with shrapnel. He felt a few pieces hit him. Most bounced off the armor but a few hit the unprotected parts of his torso through the gaps in the frame. The deathclaw was no longer a threat. Half of its torso had been obliterated, exposing blackened bones and flash-fried organs to the air.

Even protected by the helmet, his ears were ringing.

He took one unsteady step forward before he collapsed.

"Nate!"

Nora shrieked in rage and horror, running to her husband, heedless of the flaming ruins in the middle of the street. The armor was damaged and he was bleeding everywhere, coagulating, and she could smell clinical antiseptic rising from her husband alongside the coppery tang of blood.

"Don't be dead, don't be dead." she whimpered, kneeling at his side.

"Sturges! Can you get this thing open?" Preston hollered.

"Give me a couple minutes!" Sturges responded as he hurried over. "Good thing he fell forward, these things open from the back." He set about inspecting it while Preston pulled Nora aside.

"That was something else. I've never seen anyone use power armor like that. And for a bunch of strangers. We owe your husband a debt."

"No shit," Nora snapped, her eyes red with tears and furious anguish. "And now he needs medical attention."

"I know," the minutman replied. "We have to move fast Mrs. Jones. The noise from that explosion will have been heard for miles. Anything could be on the way to check it out, ferals, raiders, another deathclaw."

Nora grit her teeth, but nodded. They couldn't afford to waste time, not when Sanctuary Hills was so close. The Professor's medical training would come in help.

Please be okay, Nate.

The armor hissed, releasing steam as it opened. Sturges put a hand on her husband's neck.

"He's got a pulse! Alive but unconscious and in bad shape."

Nora sobbed in relief.

Preston put a comforting hand on her shoulder and then turned to address his group.

"We have some rope left, so Jun, you and Angie breakdown some of that plywood in the window, see if you can make a stretcher. I'll keep lookout." He turned to the rest of his group. "Fred, you scout up the road. Hopefully there's no more surprises waiting for us. Jules and Marcy, run inventory and see what we can scavenge from these raiders in the street. Ammo and meds only."

"What about our folks?" Jun asked.

Preston frowned.

We don't have the time or the manpower to carry Mama Murphy, Anthony and Casey right now. The wasteland will take care of their bodies soon enough."

They nodded or murmured their assent and Preston set about cranking his musket to patrol the street.

Nora held onto Nate's hand, watching his eyes flutter and crying silently. She couldn't lose him too.

Nora awoke with a start.

It was dark, and cold for some reason. Nate must have left the window open again. Nate. She'd been having some nightmare about being trapped in the future and Nate being on the brink of death after Shaun had been kidnapped. Shaun. She should check on him. There were voices. Her head hurt. She stumbled out of the room and looked down the hall to the living room.

Lanterns were lit. People. Strangers in her living room. No, the minutemen. Preston?

Nora's knees threatened to give out as her memories of the last few days came flooding back.

"Oh, mum! You're awake and alright, I was so worried." Codsworth floated over to her but she couldn't find it in her to work up a response.

Nathaniel had almost died saving these people. Shaun was missing.

Preston, the leader of his group approached her with his hat in his hands. Jules and Angie were sitting on her couch, drinks in hand. There was another man too, one she didn't recognize.

"Apologies for all being in your house ma'am. The robot insisted on having us in for tea." Preston mulled something over and then started to speak again.

"Your husband was brave—"

"Don't." she said, cutting him off. He nodded understandingly and took a step back, changing the subject.

"It's a fine little town here. Would make a great settlement."

Small talk.

Nora had detested it before the world was in shambles and she detested it still.

The other day after spending hours at Nate's bedside in the makeshift infirmary that Widmer's house had become, she'd gotten into an argument with Garvey and his band of merry minutemen. She'd explained how people had come into the vault, even explained that she and Nate and the other three were two hundred years old and they'd seem less concerned about that than her desire to go scout out Lexington.

One lone wanderer fresh out a vault? You wouldn't make it halfway to Starlight.

Nora grit her teeth but supposed he had a point. If there was another one of those deathclaw monstrosities lurking about, she'd be torn apart.

"I've never been this far north before, but it's a good deal more peaceful than the rest of the commonwealth."

Peaceful.

Nora had to bite her tongue. Everything they'd been through up here was peaceful?

"Now, I'm serious we owe you and your husband a debt. And its sounding more and more like Jared might be the one who took your kid. These things take time, Ma'am. But don't worry, this is what the minutemen are all about." He turned to the stranger. "Tell her what you told me, Blake."

The newcomer nodded at Preston respectfully and then turned his attention to Nora.

" I gotta farm nearby. Jared's gang took my daughters Mary and Lucy just last week. I heard tell they've taken young un's and teens from Tenpines too." Blake scratched his chin. "One of the raiders I shot when they took my daughters; He told me afore he bled out that Jared's doing experiments, gonna make himself a god."

"Thank you Blake," Preston said, looking at Nora. "Slave trading if I had to guess. None of the places he's hit have been asked for a ransom."

"They ain't eating 'em either," Blake interjected. They hit up my homestead for tatos and milk two or three days ago."

Nora nodded along, only half-listening as she tried to figure out how to place markers on her Pipboy's map. Then Blake's words were comprehended and her head snapped up to him, her eyebrows raising in concern and disbelief.

"I'm sorry, did you say eat? As in the captives?"

Preston and Sturges shared a look.

"A few of the raider gangs in the Commonwealth are cannibal clans but we know Jared isn't among them."

Nora gaped, looking like a fish out of water. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. Cannibals in the Commonwealth. They talked about it like it a normal occurrence. What was next, a bunker full of—

"I'm calling it now," she said dryly, after recovering from the shock. "This world can officially bite my ass."

Preston smiled apologetically.

"As soon as we've reestablished some trade routes and gotten in touch with whatever minutemen are left in Salem, we'll see about rescuing Jared's captives; hopefully your boy is there. We just don't have the manpower to assault something like that. And after Quincy, it may be difficult to get support."

Hopefully? Where the hell else could he be? And why was Jared abducting children in the first place? Nora chewed her bottom lip, things were sounding less cut and dry every second.

"No promises on how long it'll take though," Preston continued. "We're talking weeks of travel, if not months."

Nora sucked at her teeth.

"How many helpless villages are between here and Salem?"

"Hey now," Preston chided, "They aren't helpless, there's just a lot of good folks in bad situations."

"How many?" she repeated, putting a hand on her hip.

"About a dozen?"

"A dozen," she repeated incredulously. Preston nodded.

"Tenpines is the closet but there's also Lynn Woods, Greentop, County Crossing, Breakheart Banks, The–"

"Okay, okay, I get it." Nora said putting a hand up to stop the geography lesson. She needed something to take her mind off of this. "Do you have an extra rifle?"

They may not have been ducks, but they were close enough in size for her to practice on. Close enough to take her mind off of things the way hunting with her dad had always calmed her down. The bloatfly exploded into a fountain of greyish gore, and she cranked the musket up again. It had taken her more shots then she would have liked, but she managed to kill all five of the insects buzzing over the surface of the lake.

The laser musket was a poor substitute for a proper hunting rifle, but it would have to do. She'd leaned on the little band of survivors, taking them to task with courtroom style demands. Sturges had made her a set of reinforced leather armor for protection, and they'd afforded her what ammo they could. Caps too, as bottlecaps had replaced dollars and—

Nora cranked the laser musket again. No use in dwelling on the past. Shaun was still out there. Nora took a deep shuddering breath to steady herself. Sometimes she wanted to break down crying, but she couldn't afford to. It was all too much. Nate was bedridden. Her baby was gone. It was over two centuries since she'd entered the vault. Mutants and monsters plagued the planet. Nora fired the musket at nothing in a sudden fury and then dropped to her knees in the gnarled grass. How were they supposed to find Shaun in all this? She wanted to be angry at Nate and she was. She knew he'd saved them all. But he was also in no condition to travel and wouldn't be for several weeks.

She needed him.

She needed him and it was unlikely that he'd wake up before she left for Salem with Garvey. Because she had to. If there were that many settlements around, someone had to know more about Jared and the Rev-heads than Blake Abernathy had. This was a fact-finding mission for her. And then, if Garvey was right about the current mood in these places, there were probably minutemen that would need convincing to come help rescue Jared's captives.

There was a heaviness in her chest that wouldn't move, like a vise around her heart. She stared up the stars in the night sky and wept.

This was not the life she had wanted. It was all happening so fast. Garvey had said life in the Commonwealth was one of constant survival that slowed down for no one. . But she just wanted, no needed more time.

Time.

Another thing she'd been robbed of in the vault.