Jack watched as a bald man walked slowly between the tower and a pair of corrugated metal shacks, just as he'd done three times prior. Gun slung over his shoulder, his uneven gait was a clear indicator of his drugged-up state. He stopped short of the entrance to converse with a woman clad in combat armor so minimalistic that in it would no way protect her should harm come her way.
As it happened, harm was doing just that.
Ronny turned right to see Jack adjusting the dial on his scope.
"Another target walking left to right along the scaffolding. One on the bridge, another in the ditch. Two in the right house, three in the left. Two by the fire, two sleeping at the top of the tower. One at the entrance." Jack's face scrunched up. "And one more pissing off the side of the rock. Lovely." He gave a low whistle. "Wonder what kind of 'cargo' warrants this many drugged up skid marks on the Commonwealth's underpants."
"Isn't that a lovely thought…" Ronny mused.
He yawned into his hand and shook his head. They traveled with few short breaks for the better part of two days. The camps they'd used were isolated alcoves in various rock faces, a far cry from the plush mattresses they had enjoyed in days previous. Such was life for wasteland wanderers like themselves, but it didn't help the ache in Ronny's bones to know that. Along the way, he asked Jack more than once for more information about who they would be meeting, but Jack had been less than forthcoming. This irked Ronny, but he'd been through enough with his childhood friend to be able to comfortably assume that whatever surprise was in store would be worth the wait.
The trip, despite the hiccups in the forms of injury, had been good for Ronny. Before he had caught Jack leaving Diamond City for a new quest, his life in the ever-sprawling Commonwealth metropolis had become tedious on a good day, mind-numbingly boring on a bad one. He had always counted himself lucky to have been able to latch onto a sustainable lifestyle in the wasteland's most secure city, but he quickly found himself longing for something more. As often as old Abbott would allow it, Ronny would take or tag along on treks to the far reaches of the Commonwealth just to feel something other than safety, and being able to travel with two of his favorite people was a nice bonus, he had decided. Jack liked to joke that he was an adrenaline junkie, and over time Ronny had adopted the assessment with gusto. It was, he told himself, better than being another kind of junkie.
Such as the ones in front of them now.
"These are the guys robbing trade caravans? They hardly look capable of robbing a blind guy with a cane." Jack sneered.
"Caps are caps, bro. Doesn't matter what they look like, we're here to knock them down. So, what's the plan, Blackjack?"
"Looks to me that it would be best for me to set up in the tower. Best sightlines and cover. From there, I cover you as you move through on the ground. With any luck, they won't know what hit 'em."
Ronny gave a dry chuckle. "Because we're always so lucky. Come on, let's go."
They pushed themselves up and crouched to the berm next to the tower entrance. The wet ground sloshed under their boots as the two men moved low and slow. Jack signaled to Ronny with his hands and waited as their target circled the tower base. Once Ronny was in place, Jack whistled softly, enough to shake the raider from his stupor. The man raised his gun and went to yell into the dark, but had a hand slapped over his mouth and a knife sinking into his throat. Ronny held the man for several seconds as he worked the blade and lowered the body to the ground before dragging it out of the light from the tower lamp. He looked at Jack and nodded.
Jack crept up the spiraling metal stairs, taking special effort to avoid making a ruckus as he moved. Every step was preceded by a tentative lean into the next stair to check for creeks. He kept his rifle pinned to his chest as he climbed and kept his breathing shallow. As Jack neared the landing, snores like a sputtering chainsaw came from the two men above him. He slowly poked his head above the surface of the stone platform at the top and looked around. Both raiders were still asleep, slumped over in their folding chairs barely stable enough to hold their weight. Just as Ronny had done a few minutes prior, Jack pulled a knife from his hip and shoved the blade into the neck of one of them before following suit with the other.
His perch clear, Jack slipped his bag off to retrieve a suppressor. He fixed it onto the barrel of his rifle and peered over the edge. Five raiders were sitting around the fire at the center drinking and yelling to each other; three had passed out in each of the houses, and the other two meandered from place to place.
Ronny rose from a prone position just below the shacks at the outskirts of the raider camp and pressed against the support beam. With the hilt of his knife, Ronny knocked on the wood. The raider above exclaimed in confusion and growled when Ronny did it again. He laid down on the deck of the shack and looked under the overhang. He gasped at seeing Ronny, yelped at being grabbed by the arm and pulled down, and finally became silent at the order of the knife. Ronny moved again, this time stopping in the culvert under the wooden bridge connecting the shacks. The structure was several feet above his head, but he stopped and waited. The raider above him sat down, feet dangling over the edge of the bridge, and muttered something that Ronny didn't hear. Ronny shifted his feet and raised his arms to his chest. Seconds later, a bullet sliced through the raider's head, and the man's body slouched forward and off the bridge. Ronny caught the body with a grunt and laid it among the weeds below. He lightly stepped up the hill and snuck onto the path leading into the first bunk house.
The glare from the flame danced in Jack's scope as he watched the cluster of raiders at the fire. They all rocked back and forth with every exaggerated action, more than once falling from their seats. Two at a time, they would throw their bottles back to have some sort of competition, and the other three would laugh at whoever gave up first. After the third time, one of raiders threw up on herself and the man next to her. He shouted and swore, pushing her away and furiously scrubbing at the sick on his armor. Jack tracked the woman as she stumbled away, toward a large rock between the tower and the fire. She collapsed to her knees behind it, away from the group, and continued to empty her stomach, every retch sounding more and more painful. Jack stood to full height so he could look down at the angle he needed to fire. He braced his foot on the sidewall of the tower platform and fired.
The next two contest losers met the same fate.
A dull thud and sharp creak sounded in the house as Ronny's feet hit the floor. He winced at the noise and halted, but no movement from the occupants followed. He slunk across the open first level of the ramshackle building, keeping his head on a swivel while chancing the occasional peer through the floorboards to search for raiders above him. The ancient wood groaned with every footfall, and Ronny's heartrate picked up with each step as he climbed the staircase. A board at the landing snapped under his weight, snaring his foot before he yanked it free. One of people tossed around and sat up, eyes still closed. Ronny froze, hand on his shotgun. The half-awake raider remained motionless for long enough to make Ronny wonder if the man had fallen asleep in his sitting position. After hearing a thump of the body falling back to the mattress, Ronny resumed his path toward the trio of dirty beds, all but crawling to keep his presence hidden. He tightened his grip on the knife and drew closer. The raider's eyes shot open and his head jerked up.
"Who the fuck are you?!"
Ronny dashed forward and punched the raider's nose. The crunch from fist breaking cartilage drew wails of pain from the man before Ronny ran his serrated blade across the raider's throat. Blood sprayed onto the woman next to them, earning more raucous shouting. Ronny dropped his knife and pulled his shotgun from the holster, leveling it at the screaming woman. The loud crack of Ronny's double barrel blew her apart in a shower of gore that splattered along the wall. Ronny turned to meet the final raider who charged him with a feral yell. The raider shoved the barrel up as the shot boomed and punched a hole through the ceiling, splintering the wood and causing a rain of chips to fall on the two men. The raider grabbed the gun and yanked, fighting Ronny for control with animalistic grunts. Ronny grit his teeth and headbutted the raider between the eyes. The man took a delirious step back that was all Ronny needed to swing the butt of the shotgun against his face several times until the raider moved no more. Ronny stood up, breathing heavily, and wiped his brow.
"Whoever you are, come out here right fuckin' now! We gotcha surrounded!"
Sweat rolled down Jack's forehead as he looked over the area. The racket that came from the house drew the attention of the remaining raiders. They had noticed their thinned numbers and took positions of cover that made it impossible for him to get clear shots on any of them. He had no idea if they knew he was there, or even if there was more than one attacker. Ronny was trapped in the house, surrounded by enemies, possibly injured or worse. The standoff dragged on for longer than Jack kept track, every passing moment making his heart beat a mile a minute.
"Alright, if you won't come out on your own, we'll make you!" A raider shouted from the adjacent bunkhouse. From across the deathly quiet clearing, Jack heard a flip lighter sparking to life.
What would he—
Jack gasped and trained his sight on the large window facing the house Ronny was in. There was a dozen foot gap between the houses, so his first shot had to land. He waited, steadying his breathing. The glow from the Molotov illuminated the second-floor walls of the second house. The bottle of sloshing liquid with a burning rag stuffed in its neck flew from the window. Jack fired and released a breath long held. The bottle shattered, but not in midair. Flames engulfed the wooden structure and started spreading throughout the second floor.
He had missed. Panic took over Jack's mind as he stood and scrambled to determine what to do.
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack noticed a flash of blue. He'd only just begun to turn towards it when an ear-splitting roar rang out across the hills.
Bright orange fire crawled toward Ronny like a hungry radscorpion, and he struggled to slide fresh shells into his shotgun. The Molotov had landed in the center of the room, just a few short feet from him, and immediately started eating away at his shelter. Ronny looked his surroundings. There were only two windows – the one that the firebomb came through, and one on the front side of the house. Ronny crawled to the back wall and moved down the row of planks testing how sturdy each one was. As he kicked at the weakest one, a roar startled him off his balance. Mind racing, he didn't stop to ponder what else could be outside and composed himself to kick at the board. Inch by inch the wood was lodged free of the nail straining to keep it in place, until finally it gave and fell to the ground below. The fire behind Ronny was licking at his heels, so without a second thought he threw himself from the newly created hole in the wall. He landed with a bounce and a sharp pain that shot through his legs like a lightning bolt, lungs wheezing as he tried to reclaim the wind knocked from his lungs. Guns popping and distressed shouts reached his ears, but they were not directed at him. Ronny exhaled through clenched teeth and forced himself to stand. His gimpy steps hampered his movement as he cautiously snuck to the corner of the building and peered around the corner.
Ronny recoiled back as a body rocketed by, just missing him. The torso sported several deep punctures and was very nearly torn in half. He looked in the direction it came from, mouth ajar, and saw one of the wasteland's most deadly creatures snarling at the raiders — a deathclaw.
A glowing blue deathclaw.
The raider breathed erratically, trying repeatedly to slide a new magazine into his pipe rifle. All around him lay bodies of his former gangmates, riddled with bullet or knife wounds or maimed to the point of being unrecognizable. One minute they were drinking and laughing, the next they were being slaughtered with each passing minute. The house next to him was already encased in fiery inferno, the rampaging monster on the other side of the boulder was actively ripping his friends apart, and he still hadn't found the guy he'd thrown the Molotov at. The situation was already bleak, and fast approaching hopeless; they never should have taken this job in the first place. With a shaky hand he pulled the bolt on this pipe rifle and pushed himself up. He gulped and stopped his breathing when he heard the final combatant die to the claws of the beast. As slowly as he was able the raider crept around the corner and took aim at the deathclaw, sharpening its blood-soaked claws. The creature looked at him and roared so forcefully that the earth itself practically shook.
Before he could pull the trigger, a shot cracked off from the side, and his lights were snuffed out permanently.
Jack lowered the smoking barrel of his gun and exhaled. The rifle found its place on his back once more, and Jack turned to face the glowing monster in the clearing. It stood straight and tall, hands together but lowered. The deathclaw tilted its head as Jack approached it, bright blue eyes narrowing. It flicked out its forked tongue and sniffed at the air around Jack. He stopped in front of the creature that towered over him and held out his hand. The deathclaw lowered its snout, and Jack rubbed it affectionately as he looked over its hide.
"Hey, Blue. You alright buddy?" He spoke softly, smile etched on his face. "Nat says she's sorry that she couldn't come, we found some stuff on our way here that she had to take back to Bunker Hill."
The deathclaw made a short sound somewhat resembling a deep bellow.
"Jaaaack, is there something you wanna tell me?!" Ronny yelled from behind the boulder.
Jack turned to Blue. "I didn't tell him my 'friend' was a deathclaw." He spoke in a whisper. Blue growled faintly.
"It's alright, Ron, come on out and meet my friend. He doesn't bite!" Blue snapped his jaw down on the arm of a dead raider and ripped it off. "…much."
Ronny tentatively stepped into the open and took slow steps toward Jack, keeping his friend partially between him and the deathclaw. He leaned each way examining the beast, never sure if his eyes were truly, actually seeing what was in front of him. The light from the moon haloed the deathclaw, bathing it in a soft glow that only served to accentuate the natural bioluminescence of the creature. The blue radioactive material snaked all over its skin like the arteries of some protean god. The intensity of the light rose and fell as it breathed, creating a display equal parts beautiful and terrifying. "This can't be real… How are we not getting eaten alive right now?"
Jack flashed a grin. "By the grace of God, buddy. This big guy here is Blue."
Ronny looked over to Jack. "Fine, clearly I'm going to have to be as specific as possible. Where did this thing come from, how do you know it so well, and why are you friends with a blue deathclaw?!" His arms gestured wildly about as he spoke.
Jack paused as his eyes scanned the tree line to the north, seemingly looking for something. "After my father first moved into Diamond City, he made it a point to meet as many of the residents as he could. One day, that brought him to the stands, and so he met Wellingham."
"The stuffy Handy robot that serves food, and sarcasm?"
Jack nodded as he slipped a cigarette between his lips. He offered one to Ronny and pulled a lighter from his bag to light the nicotine sticks for them. Jack took a long drag and blew into the air. Blue exhaled forcefully and shook his head, grunting in displeasure. Jack chuckled. "Heh, sorry buddy." He gently patted the deathclaw's side.
"Anyway, yes that Wellingham. He gave dad a job to track down a valuable shipment that he'd been waiting on. Salem was the only information he gave to dad." Jack watched the smoke dissipate in the gentle breeze rolling through. "The trail led him to the old witch museum. From what he and mom told me, the journey through the place was like something out of one of the horror holos that they've got at the library. Something big and loud stalked above them as they moved through the basement, and half-chewed bodies fell through the cracks in the floor."
Ronny cocked an eyebrow as he inhaled. "Let me guess, one of them?" He jabbed the cigarette at Blue. Blue chuffed.
"You got it. The biggest one that mom had ever seen, with one horn broken off and claws a time and a half as big as Blue's. Had huge scars and gashes all over its body, and it was just pacing around the main floor of the museum. She said that the whole time they watched it, the deathclaw was almost whining."
"What, like a dog? They can do that?" Ronny looked at Blue. "You can do that?" Blue only tilted his head in response. "Shit, more like a dog than I would've thought…"
"Yeah, actually – the whole time it was limping around and crying out. Mom and dad waited for hours, and eventually it just… collapsed." Jack looked up at Blue. "It wasn't in any position to fight again. The Gunners that had been attacking it nearly finished the job, but it managed to go on just a little bit longer. As they parents crept toward the exit, they saw a bunch of broken and smashed eggs by the door. Dad brushed away the shells and found one intact, pristine, deathclaw egg."
Ronny's gaze softened as he looked back and forth between Jack and Blue. "I'm guessing that he- Blue, is from that egg?"
Jack nodded solemnly; lips pursed. "The deathclaw watched them the whole time, but it couldn't stop them. It just stared at them as it got weaker. Didn't even roar at 'em or anything." Jack paused and scratched at the side of his head. "Mom said that they left the thing to die in there, but the way she teared up told me that Dad put it out of its misery first."
Ronny cast his eyes down. "But… I don't understand, there's no way your folks kept the egg and raised a deathclaw without anyone knowing."
"Not exactly. The Gunner sergeant's audio log said that the egg was the shipment they'd been sent to find, and that the Gunners swiped it from somewhere around here." Jack swept a hand toward the general vicinity. "Mom and dad searched for a while, couldn't find anything, were just about to leave when a deathclaw slid down the hill right next to them… and did nothing. It watched them, just like Blue is right now."
"I'm guessing they lived."
Jack scoffed. "Mom put the egg back, they backed away slowly, and then ran like hell once it was out of sight. But dad, the psycho he was, went back every so often to see if the deathclaw was still there." Jack tossed his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with his boot. "It's always been the weirdest thing. My father and a fucking deathclaw had this weird fascination with each other, always observing and studying, but neither of them ever made a move to kill. It was like something out of The Shepherd and the Lion — dad, Androclus, helped the lion and was enthralled by the majesty and sheer powerful presence of the seemingly peaceful killer, the lion. The monster was curious enough about this small creature that returned its egg to not only ignore its base instincts, but also to allow it to co-exist. I guess after I was born, dad just…" He shrugged his shoulders and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "...Brought me with him for his trips. Blue and I are pretty much the same age, and a lot of our lives have been spent in fairly frequent contact."
Ronny took one final drag before he threw his cigarette away as well. "This is all still so goddamned weird. So, you're telling me that Piper Thompson just let your dad bring you halfway across the Commonwealth on a regular basis as a child to play with a deathclaw?"
Jack stiffened at the insinuation. "I'd be lying if I said she didn't raise hell about it, but part of me thinks the way they interacted with Blue's parents spoke to her somehow. She even came with us more than once. Maybe they thought I could learn something from the experience; I'd say I certainly did. As to why Blue's mom, or Blue for that matter, never once tried to kill any of us, I really don't have a good answer for you. Whether it was by some weird matter of kindred spirits or by supernatural intervention, it just worked out." The tension from Jack's shoulders ebbed away as he rubbed Blue's curved horns. "But he's definitely not a pet. It's a lot like the animal tamers dad talked about from before the war. Just because I'm friendly with this guy and able to pet him does not mean that he'll never take a bite out of me. He still does what he wants, goes where he wants. He might listen to me, he might not."
Ronny stiffened and took a step back. "Are you serious? Then why would you bring me here without warning me first, Jack? What's gonna stop him from takin' a chunk out of me?! And how the serious hell am I just now learning about this? A trained deathclaw, no matter how likely it is to roll over for a treat, seems a lot like something you'd bring up once or twice to your best friend, bro. Why are you showing me this now?"
Jack faltered. He was right, what could he do if Blue suddenly turned hostile? They would both be killed in an instant and end up like the pile of raider bodies by the fire. "I… I don't know. Nothing, I guess. I had no way to guarantee that he wouldn't attack anyone else, or that he would even still be here. I guess I just wanted to finally share this with someone, especially since you'd been telling me recently how much you've been wanting to experience something more exciting than just city life. It honestly didn't even occur to me how fucked up this might look to anyone else. I know how crazy that sentence sounds just in itself. Ever since I was a kid, I've never thought twice about being buddy-buddy with a killer creature, but now I feel pretty stupid for not realizing that any sane person would." He looked at Blue, then at Ronny, as he scratched at the back of his head. "I'm sorry, Ron."
Ronny was quiet as he pondered what Jack said. As much as he wanted to prod and pull apart the story and how little sense it made, it was impossible to deny that there was still a giant glowing monster letting his friend stroke its head. The whole situation still made his head spin, and Jack's explanation gave him more questions than answers. However, he trusted Jack like no one else, and as much as he wanted to stay offended and angry for being kept in the dark on something like this, he couldn't bring himself to hold a grudge — even despite the clear and present risk. Jack had done something very stupid, potentially endangering his friend, but he'd done it with positive intentions —whatever that counted for. Ronny pinched the bridge of his nose and heaved a deep sigh. "Alright, fine. I hear you, man. It's all good, I guess, but just this once. Next time, fucking tell me if I'm going to be standing six feet from a killing machine that you're secret pen pals with." He ran a head through his damp hair. "This is just a lot to take in, and I still don't totally have my head wrapped around it. He didn't kill me, and I've still got all my limbs, so no harm done I guess."
Jack nodded solemnly, and Blue huffed and stretched his arms out wide.
A smirk tugged at Ronny's lips. "And I guess Blue is pretty damn cool."
Jack smiled softly, and Ronny pointed at the deathclaw.
"Last question, though… why is he blue?"
"Another question I can't answer."
"…That's it?"
"Pretty much. Dad liked to joke that he was bottle fed on Nuka Quantum, but I don't think we'll ever know." He rapped his knuckles against Blue's hide. "Why are you blue, buddy?"
Blue bellowed again and turned to walk away, and Ronny looked at Jack. "Touchy subject, I guess." Both men shifted their gaze to watch Blue go. The deathclaw bounded away on all fours and disappeared over the hills.
"So are we ever gonna see him again?" Ronny asked.
"He'll show up when he wants to, Blue knows how to find me. For now, though, I think we should get some sleep—"
They looked to the side as the support columns of the burning house broke apart, and the second level of the structure fell into the base of the fire beneath it as burst of flames and sparks rushed into the air.
"Maybe we'll go back to the last campsite?" Jack posed.
"Deal."
A/N: Hey all! Sorry about the huge gap between last chapter and this one, I really don't have an excuse. It was written and edited, I just struggled to find a time where I wanted to sit down and upload it... Anyway, I hope you liked this bizarre turn of events! The presence of Blue was a huge inspiration for me writing this whole thing, oddly enough, and it was too fun for me to ignore. Ronny's reaction to Blue, however, was something I had a little trouble with. Obviously something like this would warrant panic and huge hesitancy with him trusting Jack, but it also felt just that little bit "believable," or at least true to the source material, because of how your companions in Fallout 4 react with unflinching deadpans during the quest for Wellington. Let me know your thoughts, and thanks for reading!