The morning came gently, as daylight fell upon Piper's face through the window. She awoke gracefully, feeling her eyes slowly open to the sunlight. All was silent now; the merchants hadn't taken to their respective shops yet. In an hour or so, even through the walls of their home, she would hear the hustle and bustle of Diamond City's booming economy as people came and went, haggling and purchasing. Such was the price of living smack-dab in the middle of one of the busiest trading centers in the Commonwealth. Piper was glad she managed to catch the silence.
Piper tried to sit up, but felt something heavy around her chest. Touching it, she realised it was Will's arm. There were few other places she'd rather be than in his warm embrace. She felt the wetness of her nape— the remains of where Will had laid his lips while he slept. He stirred as she did, as she turned in their bed to face him. The unconscious arm around her tightly pulled her in tighter in response, and Piper's heart skipped a beat. She loved being against him like this, sharing each other's warmth. Nothing separating them, their bareness pressed together, and their heartbeats synchronized.
The sunlight illuminated him, giving more ambiance to his already perfect glow. His expression was calm and gentle. There were no signs of panic or stress on his face. She took that as a good sign. Usually, his most familiar enemies ambushed him in the night. But he looked almost… happy. He must've slept well for a change.
Piper smiled, putting a hand on his face. She ran her thumb gently up and down the scarred line across his cheek. Will had suffered for these scars— a faded Glasgow smile etched across his face, one line on each side of his mouth— and often felt like they were unsightly. He had grown a thin goatee to try and cover them up, even though hair wouldn't grow there anymore. Piper on the other hand, though saddened that Will could ever suffer pain like that, loved his scars. She loved how they creased with each smile, and stretched with each laugh. There was bravery embedded in each stitch, and that is what Piper truly considered beautiful about him.
It was so much better when he was awake, but Piper could never resist an opportunity to kiss him. She softly planted her lips on his cheek, right on the scarred tissue. He stirred, breathing slowly. She could do this all day, she thought to herself, as she leaned in once more to kiss Will deeply on his lips. As she withdrew, she was greeted by open eyes.
"Hey you," said Piper with a smile. "Good morning."
"Mm. G'morn.'"
"Sleep well?"
Will let out a low grunt and a nod as his eyes closed once more. He puckered his lips out, waiting. Piper kissed them again.
"Big day today. Time to get up," she said sweetly, brushing some hair out of his face. "Blue? You gonna get up or what?"
Will didn't respond; the only sounds coming from him were that of peaceful breathing— his eyes remained closed. He puckered his lips out again. She sighed as she kissed him once more.
"Okay, that was your last one, buddy," she laughed. "Come on Will, up and at 'em."
Still, no response. He continued to breathe slowly, peacefully. For a moment, Piper thought he'd gone back to sleep. Then, after what seemed like a full minute, almost impudently, he puckered his lips out again. She snorted, grabbing a pillow and covering his head with it.
"You're such a ham," she chuckled, gently lifting his arm off of her so she could sit up. She yawned, stretching her arms out. A jolt of soreness radiated off her hands and wrists, and she winced in pain. Too much typing last night. Piper could barely move her fingers. Groaning, Piper sat on the edge of the bed, flexing her hands and massaging her digits. Doctor Sun (the persistent rain cloud that he was) had warned her various times at length about a delightful little affliction called Arthritis. Not much scared the plucky reporter, but that was a grim thing to picture. Of all the things she could suffer in the wasteland, that hit her where she lived. Piper silently reminded herself to take more breaks in between writing long pieces.
Piper yawned once more, as she stepped out of bed. She grabbed her shirt and underwear off the bedside table and quickly threw them on.
"Wake up Will," she repeated, a little more serious this time. "Come on, we need to catch the Caravan at eight o'clock, so you only have about an hour to wash up, eat, and put your uniform on."
"Mmkay," murmured Will beneath the thick pillow. He did not move an inch.
"Hey, I'm serious!" Piper said, the playfulness dissipating from her voice. "If we don't catch that Caravan, we're not gonna make the ceremony." From beneath the pillow, Piper swore that she could've heard Will mutter the words, 'What a shame' in response.
"Five more minutes," bemoaned Will, sleepily moving the pillow under his head and turning away from the sunlight. Piper groaned.
She pulled back the curtain that separated their bed from the rest of Home Plate. Sometimes it creeped her out; she felt vulnerable walking around in her underwear, knowing that a few feet away, disregarding a thin sheet of metal, the rest of Diamond City stood outside. And in moments of intimacy, the only thing that kept her and the rest of the household apart was a thick curtain that did little to deafen nosy, underage ears. It was at least, a far sight less privacy-invasive than living at her old home/office, where Piper and her sister were practically squished together, and there was no way to have gentlemen callers over without Nat knowing about it. That is, if Piper ever had gentlemen callers. Before Will, all she had was Nat and her paper.
Piper climbed down the first few stairs into the basement of Home Plate, taking a peep downstairs into the kitchen/dining room. She spied Hancock splayed out on their couch, still comatose and snoring up a storm. Piper then climbed up the stairs towards Home Plate's second level, where Nat and Shaun's bedroom was. As expected, both bunks were empty. The two made it a habit to get up early so they could hang out at the playground with the other kids before school started. Piper envied being able to jump out of bed like that. The springtime of youth was unfortunately lost on her and Will. As Piper turned to leave, she stubbed her toe on one of Nat's winter boots, which were lazily splayed on the carpet. She could stand to take a page out of Shaun's book, she thought as she put away her sister's boots.
She rebuked herself. That wasn't fair to Nat. After all, she did tend to take after Piper the most, emulating her bad habits; at her age, Piper was a messy kid. Secondly, it wasn't a fair comparison, as there truly wasn't a more cleanly kid than Shaun. The way he picked up after himself with almost machine-like efficiency was frankly a bit unnerving. Almost like the Institute programmed him not to be a burden, she thought. She rebuked herself once more.
She sighed, coming down the stairs, ready to head back to their bed to try and slap some consciousness into Will when she was greeted by a furry face bounding up the steps from the basement: the Lamont family's lovable canine companion, Dogmeat.
"Psst!" whispered Piper. "Here, Dogmeat!"
Dogmeat turned his head at Piper curiously, and trotted over to her, coming to a sitting position. He panted softly. Piper smiled, petting his fur, massaging his head in greeting. Dogmeat's tail thumped against the floor softly in appreciation. She loved Dogmeat, though she was not unique in that regard; everyone loved Dogmeat. He was by far the best listener in the Lamont household. When Nat ignored her, or when Will was away, or when Shaun was preoccupied with the world around him, Piper would sit down on the couch with Dogmeat and quietly unload all of her problems onto him as she stroked his fur. And just like the good boy he was, he'd digest it all patiently without judgment or misgivings, and Piper would feel instantly better.
Plus, Dogmeat and Piper shared a common trait: their shared affinity for mischief.
"Morning, Dogmeat," cooed Piper gently, scratching behind Dogmeat's ear. "We could sure use a wake-up call, boy."
Dogmeat barked in affirmation. The dog had an eerie sense of intuition— almost human-like. He playfully bounded past her, leaping onto the bed. The springs creaked, and Will's body jolted in response to the weight on the bed, but he still remained asleep. Dogmeat looked over to Piper, awaiting his orders.
"G'boy," said Piper. "Go kiss."
Dogmeat moved over to his master, and bent low, putting his face next to Will's. Then, a big wet tongue dropped onto Will's lips as Dogmeat delivered his good morning kiss. He licked Will's face again and again, getting it wet with slobber as Piper bit her lip. Will roused, a smile forming on his face.
"Mhmm," chuckled Will, beginning to stir. "Gee Pipes, if you really want me up, you could just say so…"
Piper stifled a laugh. A few months ago, Will had gifted Piper her very own working camera; salvaged, repaired, and wrapped in a fancy bow for her birthday. It was currently sitting downstairs, on a bookshelf. She cursed herself, wishing she had retrieved it beforehand, so she could capture this moment.
Now fully woken, Will reached up with both hands to grab the face of whoever was giving him such an affectionate morning greeting. He opened his eyes. His smile disappeared. Dogmeat barked happily.
"Eeyuck!" Will sprang up immediately at full alert, wiping the slobber from his face as the dog sprang off the bed and made his escape. "Jesus, not again! Dogmeat! Oh for..." Will shook his head defeatedly as he saw Piper cracking up.
"Very funny," Will said flatly, wiping off his face. "Now I smell like dog spit."
"Well, that's an easy fix," said Piper playfully. "Wanna shower?"
Will grinned.
They weren't making good time, Piper thought as she dried her hair off. They'd both stepped into the shower at seven o'clock, and now they only had forty minutes to prepare before the Caravan came at eight. In the old days, Piper and Will would be forced to pay a hefty fine for wasting city resources. Then, Mayor McDonough irresponsibly removed the limits on water rationing, nearly bringing the city to drought. Nowadays, with the city under new management, the time for a shower was capped at ten minutes, and always at room temperature during non-winter periods. A twenty-minute hot shower was a thoughtless luxury that neither of them could afford, though it was well worth it.
They stood side by side in front of the bathroom sink. As Piper brushed her teeth and Will shaved the last dregs of stubble off his chin, a thought suddenly crossed her mind.
"You didn't hear a vertibird fly over last night did you?" asked Piper after she spat the last of her toothpaste into the sink.
"You mean before Maxson came? I don't think so. To be fair, I was a little distracted," teased Will, poking Piper gently in her rib— a ticklish area. She suppressed a squirm, snorting into her cup as she rinsed out her mouth. She spat into the sink.
"Hardy-har. I'm serious though. I don't remember hearing one. Before or after he left. And those things are loud, so I would have noticed."
"I guess not. There's not too many places to land a vertibird near Diamond City, though," pointed out Will as he carefully navigated his razor around his chin. Piper knew how naked he felt without his chin fuzz, but such ill-regimentation was not befitting for the General of the Minutemen. "He probably set down somewhere near Vault 81, walked the rest of the way."
"Well, you'd still hear one coming in. If he came in from the Prydwen, he'd have to have flown over Diamond City, and we'd have heard it."
"Well, he didn't say he flew in from the Prydwen."
"... Yeah… I guess he didn't." Piper still wasn't convinced, and clearly Will caught onto that.
Will cocked his head and looked at her. "What's your point?"
Piper shrugged, taking her clothes off the rack. "Nothing. I don't really have a point, I just thought it was weird," she lied. But Will read her mind anyway. He was intuitive like that.
"So he lied about flying here?" Will mused, massaging aftershave into his cheeks. "That's what you're saying?"
"Well… I mean, that's the assumption… but why? It's a weird thing to lie about."
"Gee, search me Pipes… maybe he was trying to show off. Why? What are you thinking?" asked Will, a knowing smile forming on his face, which was now bare shaven. His scars stretched prominently as he smiled. He sidled up behind her, holding her from behind as he lay his chin on her shoulder, looking at her in the mirror with admiration.
"Nothing," repeated Piper, leaning her head against his. "Why do you always assume I'm thinking about something? Can't I just notice things?"
"Well, not for nothing, but usually when you notice small details like that, there eventually ends up being a story involved."
Piper smiled, shrugging off his chin. "Well, I got nothing," she lied once more. Because she was indeed, still considering Maxson's deceitful actions as she pulled on her clothes.
Will hated wearing his uniform. This was well known, especially amongst the Minutemen. Everyone from the Castle to Fort Red Rocket had heard of the General's disdain for his own rank's regalia. And honestly, no one blamed him. It seemed as though General "Tiny" McGann, his predecessor, truly lived up to his name, for even at Will's size, the suit was a tight fit. General Lamont had complained to almost every soldier under his command about the tightness of the armor around the crotch, the itchiness of the suit coat, and the ridiculousness of the hat.
He had tailors and designers from all across the Commonwealth try to make the damn thing a little more comfortable, but no matter what they did, it still felt like "being pressed into a Yao Guai's hairy asshole—" Will's words. It became something of an inside joke in the Minutemen rank and file: How many Yao Guai's do you think it took to make that thing? Hey, you think the General will mind if I borrowed his duds? Fair's fair: you know why it's tight around the crotch, right? It never failed to make Will laugh.
Of course, being the General, he could wear anything he damn well pleased while on duty. He much preferred the colonial duster, the designated attire of high ranking officers of the Minutemen. Even then, sometimes Will had shown up to work and even to formal events wearing his signature leather jacket and jeans, raising the eyebrows of many, especially in the press.
He attended Murkwater's grand opening wearing an admittedly ugly tan suit. Piper remembered the headline of the Commonwealth Veritas that day: General Lamont: Ashamed Of His Own Uniform? The article was accompanied by a picture of Will delivering his speech in his tan suit, and went into length about the "embarrassment" of Will's unprofessionalism, and drew comparisons to fellow military leader Elder Maxson: always seen proudly bearing his signature coat. God, did Piper hate that paper. Ever since then, Will tried to make more of an effort to squeeze himself into the uniform when the situation truly called for it. Like now.
"Stupid piece of…!" cursed Will, yanking on his codpiece. He had one foot up on a chair as he desperately tried to re-adjust himself. "This thing won't budge!"
"Calm down, will you?" tisked Piper, trying to loosen the straps on the uniform's built-in armor. "You keep struggling like that, of course it's gonna hurt."
"It hurts because it's pulling into my groin— I'm gonna be a eunuch by the end of the day, Christ. Forget it," said Will finally, ripping the buckle off the chest plate and de-attaching it from the suit. "Forget the armor, I'll just wear the coat."
"You're wearing the armor, and that's that. Jeez, Will. Don't blow a gasket, you still got your boots to put on."
"Oh, fuck that," he moaned. "I'm not putting those foot cages on. Like I want another staph infection. I'm wearing my other boots. The comfortable ones."
Piper let out an exasperated laugh. Sometimes, it was like there were three kids in the house instead of two. The furthest she'd ever come to colluding with Will to make the Minutemen look good in the press was just making sure he looked halfway presentable in front of a camera.
"Alright, there," said Piper, straightening out the rest of his uniform. "Heh. Well, I guess you still look good in blue, Blue." She couldn't deny that despite the uniform's supposed discomfort, it still looked rather dashing. With it's sharp contours and striking, heroic navy blue hue, it was— and Piper had said this before— the very picture of what hope in the Commonwealth looked like in clothing form. Will was a modern-day superhero, and he had the outfit to match.
Will was less than inspired however, as he gloomily looked at himself in the mirror. "I look like I should be on a box of oats," he pouted.
"Well, that's a box I'd be happy to buy," said Piper with a smirk, even though she didn't quite get the reference he made. Will was prone to doing that, sometimes.
"I look like a cereal mascot."
"You look like a General," said Piper, sidling up beside him, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder and gently kissing his cheek. "You're gonna knock 'em dead at the press conference, hon."
She had no idea what she had said or done to cause it, but whatever it was, the effect was instantaneous. Suddenly, Piper felt Will's entire shoulder tense up; his body had suddenly turned rigid. The hand that had been holding hers stiffened and clawed, his fingers digging into her skin.
She looked at his face in the mirror. It was blank. His eyes were fixated on something a thousand miles away. There was no emotion in them; they had become just black dots on white fields. Though his mouth was slightly agape, his breathing had stopped.
"Will?" she asked him nervously. "Are you… are you with us?" He was unresponsive.
Then, she felt it.
There was a familiar tremor. It was deep within his stomach, but she could feel it's aftershocks ripple through his chest to his shoulder. It was slight this time, but she knew like all fires, it would build if allowed to burn. And when it burned…
Piper took a deep breath. She had to focus. It was important to steady herself: to be the living example of what he needed. There were times when she too gave in to the panic, and they suffered for it. She never wanted to see something like that again. Piper had gone to Curie, who gave her some tips.
"Will?" Piper repeated: patiently, more soothingly this time. She took his hand, and with one finger, started tracing tiny circles into his palm. "Listen to me, please: Be here now. Let's be in the moment together. Be here now with me." She said it three times, her fingers still circling his hand. "Do you want to count to ten?"
But she didn't get the chance to count to ten, because just like that, the next thing Piper knew, Will's breathing started again. She felt his chest rise, and lower. Color returned to his face. His eyes, once devoid of life, closed and reopened as his focus returned to the present. They both breathed a large sigh of relief.
"Do you want to sit down?" asked Piper, still drawing her tiny circles.
"Uh… I—I don't know," said Will, trying to play it off, though he was clearly shaken. A large bead of sweat snaked off of his forehead. Piper gently escorted him out to the living room, holding his arm the whole way. There was nothing wrong with his walking now, but there had been times where his legs had shivered something awful, usually sending him crashing to the ground. She slowly sat him down on the couch, taking a seat next to him. Piper took out her hanky and dabbed at his forehead.
"What was it this time?" she asked quietly.
"I—I went back."
"Where? Alaska?"
"... Yeah. Yeah, Anchorage," said Will. His eyes were fixed to the floor.
"Oh Will…" sighed Piper quietly. She stopped drawing her circles, instead taking his hand in hers, clutching it tight. "I'm so sorry… that must have been scary…"
"Yeah, It was… cold… It was really cold. Freezing. Oh, shit. I was frozen—"
"Shhh." Piper felt her emotions building up in her chest, but she forced them down for his sake. She had to be his constant for now, his unshakeable force, just as he had been for her so many times.
"We're not gonna think about that now. We're gonna sit here and live in the moment. Can you do that?" Piper mopped up the rest of his sweat from his forehead.
As if on cue, Dogmeat came running in from downstairs. That human-like intuition was at it again, and Piper was grateful for it. She whistled at him, patting Will's lap. Dogmeat leapt into his master's arms, forcing a laugh out of Will. Will smiled as he stroked Dogmeat's coat, looking at him with admiration.
"Sure. Sure we can."
He took Piper's hand, and the three of them sat in silence for a moment. Piper leaned her head against his shoulder; the tremors were gone, all she could hear now was his heartbeat. She felt relieved. The worst had come and gone. Will would be alright now. But this barely registered as an episode. As far as severity went, this was almost nothing. They were lucky, this time.
There were times when it was really bad. Times when Will wouldn't just go back; he'd relive it, whatever it was. Sometimes it was trudging through the snowy tundra under a hail of gunfire. Sometimes it was fighting through the cramped white tunnels and corridors of the Institute. Sometimes… It was Vault 111. The nightmares were the worst— when Will's subconscious took over, hijacking his own body. When Piper woke up with bruises or claw marks on her back, as Will fought his invisible enemies throughout the night. Once, Piper woke to the sensation of thick, calloused hands, wrapped in a vice grip around her neck, choking her into consciousness. That day took time for Piper to get over. That was the day Piper found out about a little thing called PTSD.
Piper liked to think she was immune to anxiety: how else could she live the life she led? Yes, sometimes it scared her. But fear had never crippled her before. Not like this. Not like what it did to Will. Piper made the choice to live a dangerous life. Will had been forced into it. He was the veteran of two wars— separated by two centuries, yet to him it was almost no time at all. He had suffered in countless ways, and had seen unspeakable things that even to this day, remained unknown to her. In spite of this, he persevered, yet was rewarded with more misfortune. All Will ever wanted was his family. Now, he was seen by many as the true leader of the Commonwealth. Whether he liked it or not. It was a heavy burden to shoulder for someone who had shouldered enough burdens for a lifetime. Piper suddenly realized how ridiculous he looked in that uniform.
"You know you're a good person, right?" she said softly, tapping on his chest. "Really. I don't know a better person than you."
"I know. I mean, I know that you think that of me," said Will. He scratched behind Dogmeat's ear, and the mutt started kicking his hind leg, gently batting at Piper's arm. They laughed.
"Well, you should think it of you. Because it's the truth. You are a good person," declared Piper firmly. "And it's why I love you."
Will smiled. "I love you too," he said. "All the good in me, I get from you." He may have changed the subject, but at least he looked more in control, though a little less sure of himself than she liked. She squeezed his hand a little tighter.
Then, the door creaked open, and in walked Shaun and Nat. Both had their backpacks on, all dressed up for school. Nat looked moody, and Shaun's face was smeared with dirt. Piper frowned. She remembered one of Curie's tips: avoid any surprises. Usually once the two left for school, she wouldn't see them until the afternoon. Nat, maybe even later. Some days, like yesterday, until the dead of night.
"What are you two doing here?" asked Piper. "Class starts in thirty minutes."
"Well, Mr. Zwicky went to Kingsport… and Miss Edna is being repaired," said Shaun morosely. "She shorted out her vocal amplifier and can't speak, so class is canceled."
"Oh no… What about the substitute? Miss Bonney?" asked Piper.
"She never showed up," said Nat, indignant.
"Mr. Zwicky told us that Miss Bonney was going to be taking over at Sunshine Tidings as their new school teacher," said Shaun. "Maybe she's there now." Shaun looked curiously at Will.
"Dad?"
"Hey pal," Will breathed.
"Why are you so sweaty?" Shaun asked.
"Because I just did some push-ups honey," said Will, cracking a smile.
"Oh… in your uniform?"
"Yep. Why is your face all smudged?" asked Shaun's father. Shaun shrugged.
"Playing," he replied simply. Boy, did the kid love to play. Will licked his thumb and used it to wipe the dirt off Shaun's face, causing the boy to recoil, giggling.
"What about you? Why so glum, kiddo?" inquired Piper to her sister. Nat looked too annoyed to reply.
"She's mad because the fractions quiz was today, and she studied all night last night for nothin'," said Shaun. Nat punched his shoulder.
"Shut up," said Nat sourly.
"Hey!" said Piper.
"What? He's the smarty-pants teacher's pet. He didn't even need to study," complained Nat.
"No punching," scolded Piper.
"Whatever."
"Geez. Poor Edna," said Piper, looking to Will. "Maybe we should get Isabel down here to take a look at her."
"Don't bother, I'm sure Mel can handle it. After all, he fixed Takahashi, didn't he? By the time Isabel comes down from the Undercity, Edna will already be repaired. Speaking of which..." Will looked at his watch. "... we have time for breakfast, don't we?"
"A quick one," Piper said firmly. Will leapt up from the couch with newfound energy, bolting down to the kitchen. "Did you guys eat the sandwiches I made for you last night?"
"Yes," said Shaun and Nat in unison, unconvincingly.
"Oh? Well, what were they?"
"Cram/Peanut Butter," said the two simultaneously. They looked at each other.
"Nice try. Come on, go downstairs and help him cook."
A few minutes later, the family was busy preparing their first meal of the day. Will stood at the stove while Shaun plated, and Nat and Piper set the table. He was no Codsworth, but Will Lamont was certainly one of Diamond City's best chefs; it was one of his hobbies. He was a thousand times better than Piper, that was for sure. Dinner guests often came and went, amazed at Will's culinary ingenuity. Before she met him, Piper had never had a "traditional Boston lobster roll." Never mind that it was made from the Mirelurk, one of nature's most unappetizing looking animals— Will had turned her into a fan of that particular seafood dish. Now, she could have one whenever she so wished, her new favorite snack just a whim away. She often remarked that upon retirement from the Minutemen, Will and Codsworth should go into the restaurant business. Soon, the smell of sizzling bacon filled the room, rousing the sleeping ghoul on their couch.
"There he is. Morning, sunshine," said Will. Hancock yawned, slowly stretching out his hungover limbs. He looked half-dead— and that wasn't because he was mostly necrotic flesh.
"Ugh. You see the brand on the Brahmin that stamped my head last night?" groaned Hancock, rubbing his eyes. He blindly slapped on his crumpled tricorne.
"We did: matter of fact, it's frying up as we speak. You're welcome to give it a try."
"And boy can I smell it," said the pleased ghoul, sniffing the air as his beady black eyes shone in delight. "Appreciate it, buddy."
In another minute or two, Will and Shaun had finished plating and were ready to serve. Breakfast was rushed, but fulfilling. There was crispy Brahmin bacon, scrambled Mirelurk eggs, mouth-watering juicy slices of melon, and a new addition to the menu: a basket full of steaming, freshly baked bread courtesy of Giovanni, Diamond City's newest resident who had just opened a bakery in the city, and had gifted the Minutemen general with his first batch. Some rolls were made with Tato flour and the others with Razorgrain. Piper found that while the Tato rolls were softer and fluffier, with just a hint of sweetness, the "Razor-rolls'' were crunchier, firmer to the tooth and a little sour, yet more hearty. Both were equally delicious. And of course, there were Sugar Bombs for both Nat and Shaun, and fresh coffee and tarberry juice for all.
"Speaking of tarberries..." began Will, spreading a dollop of butter on his Tato roll. "Guess which sour little grape showed up last night while you were asleep?"
Hancock shrugged. "MacCready? That ain't like him, he couldn't have been that mad about—"
"No, not Mac. Younger," hinted Will. "With a balloon."
It dawned on Hancock immediately, as his beady black eyes widened. "Oh shit!" he exclaimed. "He came here?! What did he want?"
"Had a few issues with my publication," said Piper, between sips of coffee. "Wanted to hash it out. He complained about Kingsport. You know, the usual."
"Ah to hell with that lardhead," said Hancock, waving a hand dismissively. "After what his boys did to poor Joey Gugliano and Tommy Kravitz, I got no love for the guy or his little Brotherhood. You're still printing that story, right?"
"Ooh yeah," agreed Piper enthusiastically. "It's on it's way."
"Good. Fuck 'em," spat Hancock. "Brotherhood of Steel. Gimme a break. Murderous gang of bigots, more like."
"What's a bigot?" asked Shaun.
"It's someone who hates other people because of the way they are," said Will, pouring out more milk for his son. "Usually, for things they can't change."
"Like being a ghoul," said Hancock. "Now listen, I ain't gonna sit here and pretend that life as a ghoul was easy before the Brotherhood of Steel flew in on their cute little boat. But at least I knew back then I didn't have to watch my back for some spineless thugs with laser rifles to disintegrate me. Bad enough they're helping write the laws now. And if you don't think they're gonna try and bring in some bullshit legislation that's gonna put the squeeze on ghouls—"
"It won't come to that," assured Will. "Maxson may be… volatile. But he is reasonable."
"Reasonable? Will, all due respect, don't kid yourself. The guy's a lunatic. There's no reasoning with people like him."
"You'd be surprised," said Will. Piper immediately thought of Danse.
Hancock seemed unconvinced. "Reasonable or not, the guy has an agenda." He held up three bony fingers. "Ghouls. Synths. Synth sympathizers. We let Maxson take the reins on this thing, and starting tomorrow, we're all going on a register. C'mon Will, I know about the Inquisitors."
"That definitely won't happen," said Will firmly. "You better believe it. Not without Maxson starting a full-scale war in the Commonwealth."
"Well, you never know..." Hancock's face looked grim as he anxiously chewed on a strip of bacon. "...That may be his intention."
"Dad? Is it true the Brotherhood is more powerful than the Minutemen army?" asked Shaun.
Will raised an eyebrow. "Where did you hear that?"
"Sheng Kowalski said so. He said if the Minutemen went to war with the Brotherhood of Steel, the Brotherhood would kill them all," said Shaun nervously. "That's not true is it?"
"You shouldn't be worrying about things like that, Shaun," said Piper firmly, as she leaned over to wipe some melon juice off Shaun's chin. "And Sheng's got a bigger mouth than a hungry Yao Guai."
"Do you think they're more powerful than us, Shaun?" asked Will. His son shrugged.
"Well, they have better technology… an' they got better weapons… an' Power Armor…"
"Very true," said Will with a sober nod. "What else do they have?"
"They got Liberty Prime! And the Prydwen!" exclaimed Shaun. "And their settlements are really big and strong!"
"And what are their soldiers like? They fight well, don't they?"
"Yeah they're really… tough! And they fight together really well… and they know how to fight well..."
"They're disciplined, right? And they're well organized aren't they?" said Will, taking a sip of coffee.
"That's true…"
"A lot more so than our guys. Our guys can barely form ranks properly. And Elder Maxson's a tough leader, isn't he? People respect him right? He could lead any army you give him. Meanwhile, I'm still struggling to get our settlements on the same page," said Will.
"Will…?" said Piper unsurely.
"Seems like you're selling the team already, Willie," said Hancock, who looked confused.
But Will just raised a reassuring hand. "Now…" he began. "What does the Brotherhood of Steel not have, that the Minutemen do?"
"...The Castle?"
Will laughed. "The Castle, sure. It's nice and strong, and it'll stand up to any attack. But it can't fly anywhere we want like the Prydwen, can it? That's not what I mean, Shaun. Come on, think about it."
Shaun thought about it for a while. "Boats?"
"Heh. I guess that time with Colonel Shaw really rubbed off on you; you're thinking like a Marine. Yeah, we have boats. Quiet, fast ones that could patrol the whole coastline without anyone hearing them. We could drop an entire battalion on Airport City's shorelines, and no one would see them coming before it's too late. But boats are pretty weak compared to giant robots right? So what do we have to counter that?"
"We have cannons!"
"Yep. We do have artillery cannons. They'll punch a hole in Power Armor, Liberty Prime, The Prydwen, anything. Especially those big ones around the Castle: remember those? But what else do we have?"
"Um…" Shaun pondered. "...numbers?" he said finally, remembering.
"Bingo. We outnumber them ten to one, and we're growing by the minute. We also have more settlements than them, and we surround their territory on all sides. And every settlement comes with their own cannon, right?" said Will, with a glint in his eye. "There's not a square inch of land in the Commonwealth that our artillery can't touch. We could push their backs against the ocean, and that's where we'll have our boats waiting. But what else do we have? What's the most important thing? What do we fight for?"
Shaun thought about it for a minute. Then, he spoke: "We're fighting for the Commonwealth."
"Yes, exactly," said Will proudly. "We're fighting for home. This is our home, and we've been fighting for it for nearly two hundred years. So we know how to defend it better than anyone. We know the land better than any Capitol Wasteland fuck could ever hope to learn."
"Will..." interjected Piper.
"Damn right," said Hancock proudly.
"The Brotherhood fights to spread their ideals— their control throughout the land. But our cause is noble," said Will. "We fight for a future where every citizen of the Commonwealth can peacefully live free from hatred, fear, and oppression. Whether you're a human, a synth, or a ghoul— everyone deserves their chance at happiness and free will."
Hancock started to slow clap, a wide smile on his face. Will mimed a silly bowing gesture.
"Why would someone hate ghouls?" asked Shaun, innocently. "I mean, they look a little different, but they're still people, right? I don't get it."
"That's cause you're a smart kid, shortstuff," said Hancock, a bright-eyed smile on his face. He was clearly pleased with Shaun's answer, tussling his hair affectionately. "You got a smart kid, Willie. Hey, you ever need a favor, you ask your Uncle Hancock, you hear me?" Nat rolled her eyes.
"Speaking of which, the memorial service for Joey and Tommy is this Saturday… in Goodneighbor, and uh… we'd really appreciate it if you could make it, Will. Piper, you too."
"Of course, Hancock," said Will. "We'll both come."
"The Publick Occurrences will be there. Don't worry, Hancock. They won't be forgotten," said Piper.
Hancock smiled. "Good, good. And uh… well, since Goodneighbour is part of the Settlement Union, and since both Tommy and Joey were part of our Neighborhood Watch… I thought it'd be fitting that they both received a proper sendoff: a military funeral. Now, I know they weren't technically Minutemen, but—"
"Hancock, say no more," said Will, raising an assuring hand. "I'll talk to Preston about it, and we can work out the arrangements."
The ghoul smiled wider, his beady black eyes shining. He nodded his thanks. "It means a lot to us, Will. You don't know how important it is to us that you'll even be there. Right now, you're the only one leading the fight for us ghouls."
"Well that's gonna change soon; once I approve you and you're formally invited to the Constitutional Convention, that is," said Will. Hancock beamed.
"We should go soon or we'll miss that Caravan," said Piper, checking her watch. She turned to Shaun and Nat. "You kids gonna be okay being by yourselves all day?"
"Actually dad… can I come to Kingsport with you?" asked Shaun. "Please?" Piper balked. She knew how antsy Will was about letting Shaun leave the house. How protective he could be.
"You really want to watch a two-hour-long ceremony, Shaun?" asked Piper. "It's not gonna be very fun."
Shaun nodded. "Please? I promise I won't complain!" Will scratched his head thoughtfully.
"I don't know…" began Will. "It's not something you'd really be interested in, Shaun. Are you sure you wanna go?"
"Yeah!" said Shaun. "'Cause you said you can see The Prydwen from there!"
"Heh, I guess I did: I forget you keep asking to see that thing. Sure, why not then, kiddo," said Will with a wide smile. "Hancock, you're coming with us right?"
"Sure am. I wanna see The Prydwen too," he said sarcastically.
"Alright, alright. What about you, Nat? You wanna come too? See Uncle Preston?" asked Will.
The whole table watched as Nat failed to reply, only continuing to eat her cereal in silence. Hancock raised an eyebrow.
"Nat, can you speak up please?" said Piper firmly. "You're being impolite."
"Actually, I invited Nina and Erin over to hang out," said Nat coolly, not looking up from her bowl. "So thanks for the offer, I guess, but no."
"Oh really? Well, did you even think to ask Will for permission to invite friends over, this being his house? You think that was right?" challenged Piper.
"I don't mind," said Will, smiling. "It's okay sweetheart, tell 'em they're welcome to stay as long as they want. Maybe you guys can even have a sleepover?"
"Oh great. They'll be thrilled," said Nat sarcastically. She suddenly got up from the table, taking her unfinished bowl of cereal with her. "May I be excused?" she asked, though she did not wait for a response before she turned and walked away abruptly, storming upstairs. Piper was gobsmacked.
"Why you little—" she began as she rose to go after her impudent sister.
"No, Piper, it's okay," reassured Will. "She doesn't mean anything by it, I get it."
"Kids' got an attitude. I like it," said Hancock. "She sure knows how to stick it to the man."
"Oh knock it off, Hancock," snapped Piper.
An awkward silence fell upon the table, as the group finished up their breakfast in silence. It lasted only until Will spoke up.
"I'm telling Mac that you thought he was a 'sour little grape.'"
"Heh, I'll tell him myself. He is a sour little grape."
Piper, Will, Hancock, and Shaun (who, upon being told he could accompany his father, rushed to his room to change into his little custom-made Minutemen uniform— complete with his own hat) stood waiting outside Diamond City's main gate. It was only a few minutes before they were approached by Diamond City's mayor, who had apparently heard that the General of the Minutemen was standing outside and came rushing down from his office.
"All I'm saying is that if you could come out and support the new security bill, you'll not only sway the Upper Stands residents, but all of Diamond City," pleaded Hawthorne. "All I need is one endorsement."
"You don't need my endorsement: the city's been clamoring for increased security funding for years," assured Will. "Trust me, I don't have as much pull as you think I do with the Upper Stands. The moment they hear I supported it, they'll rally against it."
"They're already rallying against it, Will. They don't want to shoulder the tax hike," complained Hawthorne. "I'm down to my last bullet here."
Piper couldn't help but choke back a laugh. She had known Jay Hawthorne since her first day in Diamond City. Not too long ago, he had just been a swashbuckling mercenary and explorer; another rebellious Upper Stands kid sowing his wild roots, though granted, less of an insufferable prick. Hawthorne drank in the Dugout, and was a true man of the common folk. Back then, all he cared about was drinking, fighting, and women. It was funny to see him now as an officious bureaucrat, begging and bargaining for votes. It was also pitiable.
Piper did not envy him: it took a lot of guts to run for mayor after the infamous McDonough. But, after being persuaded by Will, Hawthorne ran and won in spectacular fashion. As one of his first acts, he repealed the decade-long standing law that forbade ghouls from entering Diamond City… or more accurately, he stopped City Security from enforcing it. As far as Diamond City mayors went, he was pretty good. But he did tend to pester Will with pleas for advice every time a major issue came along.
"Hancock, from one mayor to another: can't you talk some sense into him?" said Hawthorne, gesturing to Will. Hancock shrugged.
"Sorry, but all that red tape lobbying shit ain't really my area of mayoral expertise. Besides, all of my opposition bit it a long time ago. Any time I propose a new thing, it usually gets passed the next day."
"Lucky you," said Hawthorne grimly.
"Look!" said Shaun excitedly, pointing ahead.
A column of several brahmin, all harnessed together, pulling truckloads of wares and carriages suddenly came stumbling down Jersey Street. They were flanked by scowling mercenaries with laser rifles, who themselves were leading a gaggle of people: merchants, traders, laborers, doctors, miscellaneous travelers and more. The caravan trail had arrived at Diamond City.
Piper had hired passage from one of Old Man Stockton's caravans en route to Salem. The merchant caravan would take them all the way up to Kingsport after a brief stop to resupply at Bunker Hill. And like all merchants from Bunker Hill, they charged an exorbitant fee for their services. Piper pondered on the true meaning of daylight robbery as she was forced to sourly empty her pockets to pay the trailblazer.
However, she couldn't complain that her money was not being tossed away lightly. Even as the Commonwealth rebuilt itself, and as the Brotherhood and the Minutemen patrols did their best to keep the peace on the open road, raiders, bandits, and all manner of hostile characters were still very much a real threat to the lonesome traveler in the postbellum Commonwealth. Caravan companies like Stockton's Caravans, in addition to hauling goods and cargo across the Commonwealth, also provided transportation services protected by heavily armed mercenaries at a similarly heavy price.
Though Piper knew that Will and herself were tough enough to handle the long road, she thought it would not do to have the General of the Minutemen show up to such a grand event with Raider blood on his uniform. Piper also went ahead and splurged on the "Royal Package," which apparently allowed them use of the first-class carriage; a wheeled, wooden construct that passengers could sit comfortably inside as they were pulled along the road by Brahmin. Again, she figured that she'd spare Will from having to be photographed in a uniform covered in sweat and trail dust. Regardless, they were ready to leave. The mayor of Diamond City, however, was not done with them.
"General, you're my last hope. This is a real shitty situation I'm stuck in," begged Hawthorne.
"You'll figure it out, Mayor Hawthorne," said Will with a smirk, as he helped Piper into the carriage. "That's why I voted for you." And with that last retort, the caravan party was off.
The trail marched past Jersey Street, where the new migrants of Diamond City's "Outer City" were beginning to take residence in the buildings around the ballpark. Out there, it was still friendly territory, and passengers were free to converse amongst themselves and where Outer City residents waved greetings to the General as he walked past. Once they passed the threshold however, all passengers went quiet.
They navigated through the winding streets towards Bunker Hill with quiet tension— the only unease Piper felt on the journey was passing through the urban jungle of downtown Boston, where mutants and raiders still roamed through the high towers like predatory birds, looking down from afar; where Gunners lay prone with their sniper rifles, ever vigilant for a bounty to cross through their scopes. Luckily, they made it to Bunker Hill without incident.
In the end, Piper was left to mourn over wasted caps, as she was the only one who ended up sitting in the carriage. Will, claiming motion-sickness, stepped out of the carriage halfway through the hike to Bunker Hill, electing to walk alongside his fellow travelers in the rear party— some of whom were on their way to Kingsport for the grand opening. Of course, joining him was Hancock, ever the man of the people, cracking jokes and leading songs in his high raspy voice to the amusement of the party. So as Piper sat in the carriage, studying her notes and preparing for the event, she had Hancock's less-than-dulcet tones to accompany her.
"It's a long way to Diamond City!
It's a long way to go.
It's a long way to Diamond City,
To the sweetest girl I know!
Farewell, to Sanctuary!
Goodbye Goodneighbor!
It's a long long way to Diamond City,
But I'll walk for her!"
And then there was Shaun, never far from his father's side, though occasionally breaking off to run about with the other children on the trail, under Will's vigilant eye. As they reached the countryside, Will became more lenient in letting Shaun wander. He looked like he was having the time of his life. He laughed at Hancock's awful singing. He watched a fisherman show him how to catch Mirelurk hatchlings straight out of a bog, grabbing them by the shell to avoid the sharp pincers. When the caravan came to their first rest stop of the trip, he and the other children who were evidently not tired played Tag and Hide-and-Go-Seek until it was time to get moving again. Piper sighed. So much for looking our best, she thought as she watched Shaun's spick-and-span uniform get progressively dirtier.
The rest of the journey was relatively uneventful, though monotonous. They passed a Minuteman patrol at County Crossing, who saluted Will as they marched on by. They passed by a Brotherhood of Steel patrol near Finchtown, who did not. The only harrowing event came when an elderly traveler suddenly collapsed during their passing through the Lynn woods. The poor man was suffering from exhaustion. The company was brought to a halt as Will personally cared for the man, fanning him with his hat and giving water from his own canteen. He knew the Caravan was already running late, but Will stayed with the man for a solid fifteen minutes. The trailblazers looked on tensely— a stagnant caravan was an easy target. Even some of their fellow travelers were starting to get antsy.
"Beg your pardon sir, but we need to get moving," said the lead trailblazer, anxiously chewing razorgrain. "We're behind schedule. If the man can't walk, we'll have to leave him here."
"We'll wait," said Will firmly. "And we'll move once we're all good and ready."
"I'd like to sir, but… we're in the middle of Deathclaw country," said the man, his eyes darting all around. "Better he sleeps through a feedin' rather than all of us getting the tooth and nail."
"Now, now, don't tell me you're scared of taking on a few lizards?" challenged Hancock. "There are worse things to worry about out here, sunshine." The trailblazer warily eyed Hancock's fingers, which were dancing dangerously close to the large knife strapped to his thigh. "Like exhaustion. We'll put him in the carriage and be back on the move before you know it."
"Sorry Mayor Hancock, but I'm afraid this man only paid for the basic transportation package. He can't ride in the carriage. It's company policy."
"Oh yes he will. He can take my spot," spoke up Piper, stepping out of the vehicle. "And, he'll stay there until you personally take him to a doctor in Salem."
The trailblazer looked as if he was about to protest— until he was ultimately silenced by a stern look from Will and the glint of Hancock's blade. He swallowed his complaints, and just like that, the company was on the move again, this time with the old man taking Piper's place in the carriage. She joined Will, Shaun, and Hancock in the walking party. She was glad the old man was being taken care of, but felt a pang of remorse. If only she'd noticed him struggling sooner, she could have given up her place earlier and maybe prevented the entire incident from happening.
"It wasn't always like this, you know," commented Will, shaking his head as the company passed by the remains of some old cars, bumper to bumper. "Back then, Fenway to Salem was a thirty-minute drive, at least. Maybe an hour with traffic… not that there was much traffic, barely anyone could afford a car after the resource wars. But it was a smooth ride— air-conditioned comfort. The roads were clear and safe. Now, you have to hump through the Commonwealth for hours on foot in the hot sun with these greedy bastards looking out for you?"
"Well… look on the bright side. Traffic sure ain't a problem anymore," jested Hancock.
Piper, Will and Hancock shared a laugh. But as the company finally reached Kingsport— a staggering three and a half hours since they left Diamond City— covered in dust and sweat, Piper reflected on what a shame the state of transportation in the Commonwealth was as she watched the body of the still-comatose man jolt up and down in her former seat as the caravan trail departed towards Salem.
"There she is."
Kingsport's famous lighthouse peered over the horizon, marking their destination from afar. Decorative bouquets wrapped around the tower like a giant Christmas tree, complete with blue and white garland and streamers. Affixed to the spire's balcony was a large banner, carefully painted with giant blue letters: a giant sign, reading WELCOME TO KINGSPORT POLYTECHNIC greeted the travelers as they reached the sloped road towards the settlement. Already, the path to Kingsport was packed with visitors from all over the Commonwealth.
Like Will had often stressed before, the idea to build a school for the people of the Commonwealth to learn vital skills and trades was actually first thought of by Colonel Preston Garvey. It was Preston's brainchild; the Commonwealth's first public institution for higher learning. The settlement of Kingsport Lighthouse, which had been previously owned by the Brotherhood of Steel and Children of Atom respectively, fell into Minutemen hands when Colonel Garvey and General Lamont decided to lead their troops down from Salem to eliminate the Atomist menace once they had become too brazen to be left alone. Plans to convert the settlement into a full-scale campus were drafted earlier that year, and building commenced soon after. Funded out of pocket by the General itself, the school was built within a matter of months.
There were eight classrooms and one main hall. The pre-constructed house served as an administrative building. There was a small dormitory, a mess hall, a general store, a pub right on the docks, and a small building dedicated to housing Kingsport's contingent of protective Minutemen, complete with it's own artillery cannon.
Meanwhile, curriculums were devised with the help of local school teachers like Diamond City's own Howard Zwicky. At Kingsport, classes ranged from business, trade and commerce, to gunsmithing and engineering. The classroom on the docks by the ocean were intended for classes all related towards maritime industry: boating, shipcraft, fishing, and even swimming lessons. The classroom on the cliffside functioned as an in-house clinic/classroom for medicine and first-aid training. Then, there were classes offered simply for teaching general education: something that was somewhat lacking in the Commonwealth. Farming and agriculture made up the bulk of the lessons taught at Kingsport; this was a vital diuretic for the Commonwealth's farming industry— these classes were taught at the farmhouse, which doubled as the settlement's own farm, making it fully self-sufficient… if students were paying attention to their lessons.
It was to be a grand step in the right direction for a brighter future for the Commonwealth. And that's just the start, said Preston, during his proposal to the Settlement Union committee. The Commonwealth used to have a hundred brilliant schools like this all around the state. So we'll build a hundred more. Then we'll have enough farmers to build more farms. Enough engineers to build factories. Enough doctors to build hospitals. Enough lawyers to build judicial courts. And then we'll finally rebuild the Commonwealth to its former glory. Just like it was before the war.
No, Will had said. Better than it was before the war.
Now, six months later, Will could proudly stand at the foot of their shared creation. Built on the rocky hills of Kingsport, the sign was emblazoned with gold letters: Kingsport Polytechnic, and in smaller letters below, Primus Gradus. The First Step.
"Listen Will…" warned Piper uncertainty. "A lot of people in the press responded to the invitations and well… I just want to let you know that things might get a little… chaotic."
"You reporters never make these things easy, do you?" sighed Will.
They came to a stop at the front of Kingsport's caravan station, at the base of the large, rocky knoll that the settlement stood upon. The moment they hopped off the Caravan trail with their fellow travelers, they were immediately met at the base of the settlement's spiral pathway up the hill by Lieutenant Ridley, Preston's second in command, with a handful of Minutemen at his side.
"Ten-hut!" exclaimed Ridley. The uniformed men and women stood tall— their boots clicked together, and their hands sharply flew to their foreheads in respectful salute. "General Lamont, welcome to Kingsport," said the Lieutenant.
"At ease," said Will, returning the salute. "Thank you, Ridley. It's good to see you again."
"And you, sir. We've been ordered by Colonel Garvey to escort you through Kingsport's main gate to the ceremonial stage, and to serve as your protective detail," said the Lieutenant.
"An escort through the main gate? That hardly seems necessary, Ridley."
"Trust me, you'll see in just a minute sir," laughed Ridley. "They're foaming at the mouth. Regardless, we're at your disposal."
"Give it to us straight, David. How late are we?" asked Piper.
"Just enough that there won't be enough time for a cocktail before the General's due on stage," said Ridley. "Colonel Garvey is about to begin his commencement speech any minute now."
Will surveyed the settlement above him and frowned. Looking up, Piper noticed exactly what he was seeing.
The walls were manned: at least twenty armed Minutemen stood at attention at guard posts, guns at the ready. All turrets were active, oscillating back and forth, searching for targets. Grisly spiked barriers were set up on the cliff's face, preventing unwanted climbers. It looked as if the settlement was ready to go to war; an appearance that Piper had already spoken at length to settlement and event officials about specifically refraining from.
"This doesn't exactly scream 'warm welcome,' David," said Piper. "I thought the look we were going for was 'safe and inviting,' not 'armed to the tooth.'" Ridley looked uncomfortable.
"Sorry Miss Wright, but in light of recent events, Colonel Garvey specifically requested it. He's the acting contingent commander at Kingsport."
"Recent events? Acting? What happened to Captain Summers?" asked Will.
"There was… an incident last night, General. Colonel Garvey will explain later," said Ridley. "Now sir, if you please, we need to get you down to the green room for final touches. The ceremony starts in a few minutes."
Lieutenant Ridley did not overstate anything, it seemed. As soon as the reinforced gates of Kingsport opened and Will stepped through the threshold; the moment the reporters caught a glimpse of the General's navy blue regalia, the family was ambushed by the press. A horde of men and women armed with notepads and cameras enclosed on them, calling out the General's name, demanding his attention. They swarmed Will and his family, surrounding them from all sides and yelling over each other. The fluttering sounds of many shutters filled the air as white flashes blinded them. It was chaos.
General Lamont! General Lamont! Just a picture, sir. General, how are you feeling today on this momentous occasion? General, a statement for the Warwick Times, if you please. General, your thoughts on the massive turnout today? General, how's the uniform fitting you today? Look this way please sir! Mayor Hancock, a statement on the Grand Opening? General, is it true you're looking to run for President upon completion of the Constitution? General, what do you say to Elder Maxson's comments about—
"Come on guys, move it! Move it!" yelled Piper, pushing past her fellow reporters. No one annoyed her more in the world.
"We need to get you to the lighthouse, sir," yelled Ridley over the awful din. "That's where we've set up the green room. Commencement speech starts in a few minutes, followed by your speech, the Q&A session, then the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Make way!" barked Ridley as he pushed a particularly bothersome cameraman out of the General's path.
Avoid large crowds and small spaces, she heard Curie speak to her in the back of her mind. We know now that it is one of his triggers, no? Monsieur William must be able to move freely.
Sure thing Curie, responded Piper. Nevermind that he's the most beloved person in the Commonwealth, and attracts a crowd wherever he goes.
Hancock, thankfully, ingeniously started to slow down and engage the press, trying to attract more attention to himself. It was working. Piper made a note to thank him later.
"Mayor Hancock, who are you wearing? Is that a new coat?"
"Call it a new spin on an old classic. It's Anne Hargrave's new fall collection. What can I say: only the best for my friend's special day," said Hancock with a smirk, dusting off his duds. Clearly, he didn't mind the attention. But the crowd began to focus around the Commonwealth's most famous ghoul as General Lamont stealthily slipped away.
And that itself, was an impressive feat. The settlement was bursting with many visitors; The Lamont's shuffled elbow-to-elbow through the crowds, trying to make their way to the lighthouse. At the center of the settlement next to the administrative house was the raised platform at which the ceremony was about to take place. In the meantime however, it was used to attract the visitors like ants, waiting patiently for the show to begin.
Attending the festivities were a smattering of different people from around the Commonwealth. Various merchants and traders gossiped amongst themselves, while Bunker Hill delegates keenly inspecting the display for the School of Business. There were farmers from every settlement of the Commonwealth, some even from as far away as the mysterious distant island of Far Harbor up north, and the wondrous city-state of Nuka World that lay out to the west.
There were soldiers and militiamen of every cloth; granted, there were plenty of Minutemen officers and enlisted men present, but there were also Diamond City Security officers, and plain-clothed Brotherhood of Steel soldiers who were trying their best to blend in. Upper and Lower Stands residents. Ghouls and gangsters from Goodneighbor. "Pillars of the Community" followers from the Charles River. Vault dwellers from Vault 81. Mechanics and scavengers from the Undercity. Even cultists of the mysterious new group that had popped up in the remains of Covenant, the Chosen, had shown up, milling around in their sack hoods and dress suits. All had come today to witness what was to be a momentous occasion in the Commonwealth's history: the opening of Kingsport Polytechnic.
Among the gathered were some of the Commonwealth's more notable faces, some of whom Piper knew personally. There was, of course, Howard Zwicky, one of the event's keynote speakers and guests of honor socializing over drinks with what appeared to be his fellow educators, such as Katy Pinn from Vault 81.
"Why, is that Shaun Lamont?" asked Howard Zwicky, as the family approached. "What are you doing out of class? Now now, I know this is a special event for your father, but you can't just—"
"It's okay, Howard. Don't know if you heard yet, but your wife came down with a vocal malfunction this morning. Don't worry, I left a note with Mel, so hopefully he can get to repairing her soon."
"Oh dear," said Howard, suddenly crestfallen. "Thank you for letting me know, Piper."
It appeared as if all members of the Atom Cats had shown up, unmistakably standing out with their gaudy-graphic leather jackets, huddled around an exhibit in Kingsport's workshop, where metalworking and engineering classes were to be taught. Piper spotted the Atom Cat's fearless leader, Zeke, accidentally cut his finger on a spinning buzzsaw while the other members laughed. She rolled her eyes. She reckoned that if anyone could truly reap the benefits of general education at Kingsport, it would be the Atom Cats.
"Thinking about taking a few Power Armor engineering classes, guys?" asked the General as they passed by. Zeke scoffed.
"Ain't no way a couple of squares could know anything about working steel better than the Cats, wet-rag," said Zeke. "If anything, we should be teaching at this dumb school."
"Duly noted. I'll be sure to drop a line with the dean," said Will with a smirk as he watched Zeke suck his bleeding thumb bitterly.
Then, Piper spotted something she didn't count on seeing today. Dressed in plain clothes and largely unremarkable otherwise, Piper still recognized the face of the man who had once sat on the witness stand in front of the Diamond City Wall for two hours straight. Huddled together and doing their best not to draw any attention to themselves were former Head of Facilities of the Institute, Dr. Newton Oberly, his wife, and his son.
Newton Oberly had been one of the few members of the Institute who were granted full amnesty, in exchange for testifying against his fellow defendants. And testify he did, for hours on end, practically sealing the case against the Institute. His cooperation earned him a pardon, which allowed him and his family to live freely in the Commonwealth. Piper regretted that his noble action had gone essentially unrewarded, as his family had still suffered hatred from the Commonwealth citizens all the same. Fortunately, it seemed as if the Oberly's had been recognized, as the rest of the crowd were sure to provide them with a wide, disdainful berth. As Will and company passed, the two exchanged a dry, polite nod.
Then there were the members of the Railroad. Piper did not spot a single one, but knew they were present anyway, watching omnisciently. For all she knew, she could have seen a hundred of them, and never have known.
They were then hurried off to the lighthouse, to the makeshift green room, where General Lamont would be given his final touches before addressing his people.
The ceremony kicked off in a spontaneous fashion. As the visitors were gathered around the stage, in the midst of all the murmurs and discussion of the crowd, one voice suddenly cut through the air; a celestial, chilling voice that brought the crowd immediately to silence as soon as the first few words were uttered.
"O' say can you see? By the dawn's early light,
What so proudly we hail, at the twilight's last gleaming."
Almost instantaneously, every Minutemen present snapped to attention and raised their hands to their heads in salute. Some sang along, others mouthed the words, some stood silent, looking on stoically. Perfect statues were they all, standing tall as the voice sang on.
"Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight,
O'er the ramparts we watched, were so gallantly streaming?"
The rest of the crowd looked confused. Most had never heard the song before. Most had never even heard music sung like that before. But slowly, they rose to their feet as well. Some emulated the Minutemen, and put their hands on their hearts; not sure why, but strangely compelled to do so. It was music. Sweet and sincere, yet terrifyingly commanding, like the sound of an old angel from heaven, picking up her sword once more and charging into battle. It was well worth honoring. Some wept at the sound.
"And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there."
In the clearing stood a girl with blue ribbons in her hair, wearing a dress reminiscent of the old world: red, white, and blue streaks around her waist. Her name was Wanda Houston, from Greentop Nursery, and she was the daughter of second-generation Vault Dwellers from Concord, New Hampshire, and she was a singer. Taught from a very young age to sing as her ancestors did. And the first song she was ever taught had been passed down through her family for generations. It was the war-cry of old glory. It was the gospel of hope and courage. And today, for the first time in a very long time, it was sung for the citizens of a reborn America: as the new, official anthem of the Commonwealth.
"O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave?
O'er the land of the free! And the home of the brave!"
There was a round of whooping, heartfelt applause. Whistles and cheers. A few tears. Morgan Santiago, an event organizer working for the Publick Occurrences and one of Piper's best employees was serving as the emcee for the ceremony. She came out to the podium, greeted the crowd, said a few words, officially welcoming them to Kingsport.
"Please welcome to the stage, keynote speaker and Colonel of the Minutemen, Preston Garvey."
Then, Colonel Preston Garvey, distinguished hero of the Commonwealth and one of the first Minutemen through the breach of the Institute took the stage, and delivered the first words of a brand new future.
Preston then proceeded to bomb for the next three minutes.
"...what is education? Webster defines— sorry, Webster is a book. Well, it's a person, but it's also a book. Sorry. The, uh, dictionary defines 'education,' as... 'to develop mentally, morally, or aesthetically especially by instruction.' And… developing is what we… the Minutemen… are… are all about."
"Not too much foundation around his jowls, please. We want to see those pretty, pretty scars."
"Is this really necessary?" asked Will, squinting his eyes and frowning as Lindsey the makeup artist generously smothered his face in a chalk-like substance that could only be described as noxious.
"Not at all. But every little detail makes you that more appealing to the public," said Piper. God, how she wished she had her camera with her. "If you show up on the front page of the Publick with your face covered in dirt, no one's going to want to donate to the United Settlement Fund."
"Is that why I'm doing this? I thought it was because we were trying to reboot the Commonwealth's educational system and create a trained workforce or something."
"Well, it turns out one doesn't happen without the other, I'm sorry to say," said Piper. "And then there's just a little part of it that's just for my benefit."
"In what way do you benefit from— Ow! Christ, Lindsey, careful with that thing!" scolded Will as he rubbed his eye, as Piper choked back a laugh.
"I'm sorry, but you need to hold still, General," said Lindsey, who was clearly straining. "Just a few more touches and we'll be done."
"This is insane. Why isn't Preston wearing any of this shit?" asked Will sourly.
"Oh, he sweat all his makeup off the moment he got up from this chair," said Lindsey. As if to illustrate her point, Preston's amplified voice echoed through the settlement.
"Some time ago, Will— General Lamont and I had this idea. What if the people of the Commonwealth… knew how to properly grow corn? And that's not to say that… they can't. I mean, they can. But what if everyone knew how? To grow corn, that is. The result would be… more corn."
"Oh… he's not good," remarked Hancock pitifully.
"No, he's not, poor guy," admitted Will. "He can lead an army into battle, but he sure as hell can't talk about it to the press afterwards."
"Tell me about it," said the ghoul. Piper noticed that he was looking off past the presentation, past the crowd, craning his neck to see something across the settlement.
"Well, the line for the open bar has finally died down," said Hancock. "So, you don't mind if I bum a cap and get a drink, do you?"
"I— It's gratis; that's why they call it an open bar," said Will with a confused frown. "And knock yourself out— matter'a fact, get me one too."
"Will!" protested Piper as the thirsty mayor made a beeline to the counter on the other side of the settlement. "You cannot drink before speaking in front of a hundred people." Will huffed.
Piper sighed. Beside them, Preston continued to deliver his speech that was now beginning to feel way too long. And it had only been over a minute so far. The gathered crowd and press looked, for lack of a better word, subdued at the very least.
"Lindsey, I think that's enough. Could you give us a second?" Piper asked.
"Sure thing, Piper." As Lindsey acknowledged her and left, Piper spun Will's chair to face her.
"You're not having a good day," stated Piper succinctly.
"Can't say that I am, no."
"And I realize that this probably isn't how you wanted to spend your Friday."
"Uh-huh."
"But I need to remind you how important these kinds of press conferences are for you," said Piper. "The people of the Commonwealth— look, I'll be honest: a lot of them are pretty dumb. Or maybe not dumb but… easily swayed."
"That's fair."
"A lot of them'll follow whoever keeps their bellies full and raiders out of their hair. And that's fine, we can't change those people's minds. But for the rest, the people in Diamond City, the people in Bunker Hill, the people in Lexington, all those tiny independent settlements out there: they're looking for someone to help them. And right now, they see two choices. The Brotherhood, and you."
"Now the Brotherhood may look enticing, with their big ship and their Vertibirds and their dumb ol' Commonwealth Veritas spewing out propaganda pieces as fast as they can write 'em. But you guys, the Minutemen— and you especially, you have the love of the people. And I'm sorry to say it, that love is hard to keep. You need to constantly get out there and remind them that you're the hero."
"But I'm not, Piper," protested Will. "You know this. I'm no hero, I'm just… some crazy guy that went looking for his son."
Piper scoffed. "Hey, look at me— you are a hero. You, Preston, everyone who stormed into the Institute not knowing if they'd ever come back. You saved the Commonwealth from its greatest enemy. I'd call that the actions of a hero."
"Well… if I'm a hero, then you're one too. For getting people to pay attention to the crisis in the first place," said Will.
"Pfft. Well…" Pipe felt her face redden ever so slightly. "...I don't know 'bout all that. But this press conference isn't about me. It's about you, the big hero, the General of the Minutemen, bringing the gift of universal education to the Commonwealth."
"And you know that I'd love you if you were the General of the Minutemen, or a tato farmer in Greentop Nursery, or just some bum in Goodneighbor," said Piper. "But I also believe in what you're trying to do. I believe that the Minutemen are the best choice when it comes to bringing prosperity to the Commonwealth. You protect people, you don't order them around. And you build, not destroy. And technically, I've lived in this mess a lot longer than you did, so I know a good deal when I see one. And that's why I go the extra length to help you. Because you're what we need right now. Alright?"
Will nodded, sighing. "Alright, no need to butter me up anymore. I'll do it if it kills me."
"Great. So get up there, give your speech like we rehearsed, talk loudly and clearly to the back of the crowd, make eye contact with people, answer a dozen and a half questions, shake a few dozen hands, then we can go home, and maybe you and I can…" Piper trailed off enticingly, looking at Will sideways.
Will looked at her dumbly. "Uh... d-do what now?" he said, haplessly.
Piper bent over and leaned in real close, putting a hand on his knee and her face right in front of his. The image of Will pouring a bucket of poker chips into a fire appeared in her mind's eye.
"What I'm saying is… you be a good boy, and you get a treat. Understand?"
Will coughed. He perked up a bit, straightening in his chair. Piper almost had to roll her eyes.
"How's the armor? Still pulling into your groin?"
"U-uh no it's f-fine. And, uh, y-yeah, well uh… yeah I-I can do that. The speech, I mean— talk to 'em. Yep. I can do that," stammered Will. Piper smirked.
"Pick up your jaw, Romeo. You need it to give that speech."
"...from the soil of education… we plant the seed of… of learning, and out grows a healthy… tree of prosperity…" continued Preston.
"Oh my god…" muttered Piper, her hand finding her forehead. "Please save him, will you?"
Will sighed. "Alright. Send me up."
Piper made a signal to Preston— wrap it up. A look of relief instantly appeared on his face.
"...b-but I digress. So without further ado, please welcome, official founder of Kingsport Polytechnic, General of the Minutemen, William Lamont."
The crowd applauded— almost with relief. Preston practically dashed off the stage. Will got up from his chair.
"Alright, see you in a few."
"Hold on!" exclaimed Piper.
Will paused. Piper yanked his collar, pulling him toward her. Before he could say another word, she kissed him. After a second, they both pulled away. Will looked stunned. Piper winked at him.
"Go get 'em."
"Thank you, Colonel Garvey, for those kind words."
Preston made his way off the stage, and walked straight up to the green room offstage, his face dripping in sweat. He collapsed into the makeup chair with an exhausted sigh, as Piper handed him a bottle of water. Preston wordlessly nodded his thanks, throwing his head back and draining the bottle in one gulp. He then threw it away before looking straight at Piper.
"Tell me the truth. Am I literally on fire right now? Because it sure does feel like it," said Preston breathlessly.
"You did good," said Piper soothingly, handing him a towel. "Well...good enough. Let's just say they got what they needed out of you."
"Oh, well that's not patronizing," said Preston sarcastically, gratefully taking the towel to dab his forehead.
"Your handoff was good, at least."
"It should be. That's the part I practiced the most."
"Today, we stand here as common people at the foot of our greatest accomplishments. Today, we, the citizens of a free Commonwealth mark the beginning of a new era. An era characterized not only by peace… but also by unity, solidarity, and prosperity."
"I don't know how he does it," said Preston, shaking his head, as he watched General Lamont flawlessly address the crowd. "I mean, I'd sooner take on a pack of hungry ferals with raw meat wrapped around my neck then go back up there. But him… I mean, look at him. Totally unflappable."
Piper beamed. "What can I say?" she said with a shrug. "He's just a special kind of guy. And when you shack up with a reporter, you're bound to pick up some media skills."
"I think he's just immune to pressure," said Preston. "Talking to a crowd of people, or fighting off a horde of raiders… the man's unshakeable."
"Speaking of which…" began Piper. "Mind telling me why the front entrance of Kingsport looks like a warzone?"
Preston's face turned dark.
"There was an… incident last night," he said grimly. "Involving the Brotherhood of Steel and some Atomists. We decided to take some precautions."
"Ah, the Children of Atom. My old pals," joked Piper. Technically, no one had ever come to collect on her cult fees just yet, but Piper reckoned once a member, always a member. Even if said member had been forcefully initiated under false pretenses of investigating a story. "Thought you guys cleared them out after the Battle of Kingsport."
"We did. Turns out they're harder to dislodge than we thought. Contingent commander called in that evening, said Atomists had taken residence nearby and were threatening to blow up Kingsport."
"Blow up with what? A particularly fiery sermon?" laughed Piper. Preston didn't look as chipper.
"Well, that and a Mark 28 nuclear bomb."
"A what—"
"Uncle Preston!"
Their discussion was cut short as Shaun launched himself into Preston's leg. Instantaneously, as if by magic, any leftover traces of nervous emotion Preston had on his face disappeared as the ten-year-old embraced him.
"Hey there kiddo," said Preston with a wide smile, tousling Shaun's hair. "Where've you been?"
"Up the lighthouse!" said Shaun, pointing upwards towards the lighthouse gallery, an easy one hundred feet in the air. Piper's jaw dropped.
"Hold on, you went up there alone?" said Preston.
"Shaun!" snapped Piper.
"What?" shrugged the boy.
"Don't ever sneak off by yourself without telling anyone again! Especially up a lighthouse! What do you think would happen if you fell and nobody knew where you were?"
Shaun looked at his feet sheepishly. "I'm sorry…"
"You should be!" Piper tisked. Inwardly, however, she couldn't believe what she was saying. If someone had told a young Piper at Shaun's age not to run off and explore, you'd best believe she'd do exactly that. "Next time, tell an adult. Like me. Or Preston. You're lucky Will didn't catch you up there."
"What were you even doing up there, buddy?" asked Preston.
"I was looking at The Prydwen!" said Shaun. "It's so cool!"
"Of course you were," said Preston, sharing a smile with Piper. "You know Shaun, I never see you get this excited about the Castle. Makes me feel like you think The Prydwen is… cooler?"
"Well duh, of course it is!" said Shaun matter-of-factly. He laughed, but Piper had known Preston long enough to recognize the tiniest of heartbreaks he was having. "Did'ya know it floats because of its high nuclear-powered stabilization thrusters, and not from hydrogen buoyancy, like typical blimps?"
"Uh… I did not," said Preston, partially stunned.
"And, it's totally kickass!" the kid added. Piper lightly flicked his forehead, which caused him to recoil. "Hey!"
"You, hey," she said sternly. "I knew letting MacCready sit you was a bad idea."
"Well it sounds like you've done your research at least," remarked Preston with a laugh.
"Yeah!" beamed Shaun. "Do you think I can ever go onboard one day? Maybe my dad can ask Elder Maxson to bring me along next time he goes there? I know they fight a lot, but..."
Preston's smile melted from his face. He and Piper exchanged a wary look.
"I don't… think that's a good idea, kiddo," said Piper.
"Why not?"
"Well—"
"Hey!" interrupted Preston. "Speaking of research; don't you have something for me today?" Shaun's face lit up.
"Oh! Did you know a blood cell takes sixty seconds to circuit the entire human body?" asked Shaun.
"Wow, no kidding? Go on, give me another one."
"Umm..." Shaun pondered aloud. "Did you know that you swallow almost one and a half liters of mucus a day?"
Preston burst out laughing, but Piper looked mortified.
"Shaun!"
"What? It's true! Miss Edna said so."
"You're a regular font of knowledge, Shaun," said Preston with a smile. "Alright then. You've earned this."
Preston reached into his belt pouch, famously full of different sweets and confections for the children of the Commonwealth, and pulled out a king-sized box of gumdrops.
"Here, catch!" said Preston, tossing the box into Shaun's greedy hands.
"No, wait Preston, not the whole box!" Piper protested, but it was too late. Shaun had already made off with his sugary prize, giggling to himself as he ran off. Piper groaned.
"Hope you're happy. He's going to be bouncing off the walls in a few minutes."
"How is he not tired from the journey over here?" said Preston with a chuckle. "Even I got out of breath trekking up here from the Castle last night."
The two stood there for a moment in silence, drinking in Will's speech. In her peripheral vision, on the other side of the settlement, Piper kept an eye on Shaun, who was chasing a stray cat around a tree, a mouthful of candy. Luckily enough, his father's speech seemed to be drowning him out, and his audience was at full attention. On the opposite end, Piper spied Hancock double-fisting what appeared to be two Dirty Wastelander cocktails as the bartender looked on, disgusted.
"So… how are things?" said Preston finally, breaking the silence.
"Oh, you know..." began Piper. "Negotiations between the Minutemen and the Brotherhood seem to break down as each day passes, and the possibility of war in the Commonwealth keeps getting bigger. The Brotherhood is killing ghouls without fear of repercussions, harvest yields are down, raider attacks are up, the open road continues to be an open nightmare, apparently the Children of Atom are on yet another violent crusade, synth paranoia still haunts the Commonwealth, another recession is on the rise, the Publick is in a war against disinformation thanks to Commonwealth Veritas, my sister still hates me because I moved in with Will, and I'm back to smoking two packs a day. So, you know, peachy-peachy hunky-dory."
She looked over to Preston. He was holding out an open pack of cigarettes towards her. Piper sighed, gratefully taking one.
"Join the club," said Preston, putting a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it, then reaching over to light Piper's. "I sort of meant how are things going with Shaun. You know, domestically."
"Oh," said Piper. She took a long drag off her smoke. "He's... fine," she exhaled. "I think. Hard to read, that kid."
"I'm sorry to hear your sister hates you."
"She doesn't. Not really," said Piper dismissively. At least I hope not, she thought. That small aside hurt her more than she anticipated. "It's just that she's… resentful."
"How so?" asked Preston.
"You name it, buddy," said Piper grimly. "I don't think she's used to seeing me… like this. Hell, I'm not used to seeing myself like this either."
"Seeing yourself as what?"
"As a… caretaker, I guess. With Nat, I pretty much left her to fend for herself since she was five, cause I was looking for ways to pay the bills. I really… I really dropped the ball with her," Piper admitted painfully. "And now, with Shaun… me and Will, we're doing this parenting thing full time. And I know I have no obligation to do so, but part of me wants to and the other part is just scared. Because it's fucking scary, Preston. But I can't fail her— I mean, him."
"Well, I think you're doing a pretty good job," said Preston with a smile. "I mean, the way you lectured him just now— the classic mom voice? Can't get any more parently than that."
"Oh god," bemoaned Piper. "Is it that noticeable?"
Preston nodded solemnly, pausing to take a drag. "Is he still asking for—"
"Yes, he's still asking for his mom," sighed Piper. "Curie says maybe in another year, he'll start to adjust."
As she smoked, Piper watched Shaun from a distance, as he cradled the stray cat in his arms, tickling its face and laughing to himself. Perfectly ignorant to the world at large.
"When are you guys going to tell him?" asked Preston finally.
"Tell him what? All of it?" said Piper, flicking her expended butt to the ground, and stomping it out.
"Yeah…"
Piper nudged him, motioning for Preston's jacket pocket, holding two fingers up to her lips.
"Oh," said Preston, retrieving his pack once more, and offering Piper another smoke. "Here you go."
"Thanks," said Piper, leaning over to let Preston light her. She exhaled slowly. "That's not up to me, I think," she said. "That's up to him."
She was gesturing her head towards Will. The General was beginning to wind down his speech.
"Whenever he decides it's the right time, we'll do it," coughed Piper. "God knows he has enough on his plate. Bad enough Maxson keeps provoking you guys. You should have seen him last night."
"Wait… Maxson came to your—"
Suddenly, a slender arm carrying a full cocktail glass in its hand came to rest around Piper's shoulder as Hancock squeezed himself between the two, interjecting into the conversation.
"My two favorite people," said Hancock with a wide grin, clearly very slightly buzzed. "The ol' P&P connection. How ya doin' Garvey. Great speech."
"You think so?" asked Preston.
"Not at all," said Hancock, handing him the cocktail in his other hand, while taking a sip out of the other. Preston declined politely.
"It's been maybe five minutes, Hancock. You can't be drunk already," said Piper.
"Piper, I'm a ghoul. It takes a lot more than two fistfuls of Dirty Wastelander to get me drunk," swaggered Hancock.
"And how many fistfuls are you up to now?" asked Preston with a smile.
"Well, radiation is a strange animal. I mighta' suddenly grown a few more fists," said the ghoul. "Gratis is Latin for 'shitfaced.'"
Hancock burped. Piper groaned as she and Preston covered their noses.
"So… what exactly is Elder Maxson doing making late-night house calls to the General, Piper?" inquired an intrigued Preston.
Piper sighed, taking a long drag off her cigarette.
"After the show, Garvey," coughed Piper. "I'll tell you after the show."
"Okay folks, we'll now open up the floor to some questions," announced Morgan, who stood slightly offstage. "If you can please be patient and wait your turn, the General will call on you to speak."
Piper watched with concentrated intent. The easy part was over. Now began the process of satiating the concerns of the citizens of the Commonwealth. To most, this was an almost impossible task. Piper just hoped her media management seminar that she gave at the Castle a while ago had paid dividends. Although judging from Preston's performance since then, she wasn't too confident. She, Preston, and Hancock watched from the offstage, paying rapt attention to the General taking questions from the audience. An old, grizzled-looking ghoul raised his hand. Will nodded towards him, and he stood up.
"Bill Takeda, Goodneighbor Gazette. May I ask what Kingsport Polytechnic's policy on ghouls will be? Will ghouls be allowed to enroll in the offered programs?"
"Well, I'm glad you asked. See, ghouls, especially pre-war ghouls such as yourself Bill, are an untapped source of valuable knowledge that we in the Commonwealth just aren't utilizing," said Will. "I mean, think about what you can learn from someone from the old world. The wealth of information that has been lost to the Great War is still preserved in our ghoul populace."
"These resources are more than welcome at Kingsport. So I'm pleased to say not only will ghouls be allowed to attend classes at Kingsport Polytechnic, but they will find themselves being taught by our very qualified and very knowledgeable ghoul professors."
The ghoul reporter appeared to be very pleased with Will's answer, jotting down notes with a smile on his face. A few ghouls present that were part of the audience hooted and clapped. Piper smiled as well. The confidence she had misplaced had suddenly returned to her. Of course if anyone could charm a crowd, it was Will Lamont.
"I gotta say Preston, that's gonna read very well back home," commented Hancock, nudging the Minuteman with his elbow. "We gotta lot of folks looking to do some good in the Commonwealth again. When election season finally comes around, you can count on Goodneighbor to go blue."
"That's a relief," said Preston sardonically, a wide grin on his face. "I was really sweating about whether the people of Goodneighbor would vote for the Brotherhood or not."
"Ah, you know what I mean, Garvey," said Hancock with a flippant wave. The ghoul excused himself, explaining a need for another drink, and walked back towards the bar.
A blonde woman in a leather coat raised her hand, and Will pointed towards her. Piper immediately recognized her as Sadie Sackhoff, one of the writers for Bunker Hill Financial Review. A decent reporter, though she'd only touch a story that had a whiff of money involved in it. Such were the covetous people of Bunker Hill.
"Hello General, Sadie Sackhoff with Bunker Hill Financial Review. Do you have any concern for the longevity of your policy of universal education in regards to funding? Considering the implications of a joint Brotherhood/Minutemen-run government in the future, can we expect an increase in taxes for all settlements to cover the expenses of your public school?"
Will cleared his throat and took a deep breath. Piper saw Preston tense slightly next to her. This was where the hard sell began.
"We the Minutemen have always believed that education, amongst other things, is a human right. No matter who you are, where you come from, or how little you have, to deny a person the right to education is to infringe on the freedoms we fought so hard to protect two years ago," declared Will. "Education must be free: this is already commonplace with most elementary schools in the Commonwealth already. Diamond City uses their public funds to keep their school going so our children may learn. We plan to follow their example."
"As of now, Settlement Union Chairman and Sanctuary Mayor Sturges and Minutemen party officials are in the process of drafting a bill for a slight tax increase from settlements in SET-U. However, despite the hike, the cost-benefit analysis shows that due to the projected increase in skilled labor in the next five years, the financial hit would be negligible."
There were less happy faces in the audience after that answer. People discussed worryingly amongst themselves, hissing at the prospect of paying more taxes. Someone in the crowd quite loudly commented, "Fuck that, I'll move my ass to Airport City." Will cleared his throat once more.
"As for the Brotherhood's contribution, I can make no comment on whether or not they will commit their settlements to SET-U. The matter is currently under discussion. Though education will be offered to their citizens as well, I'm sure they would rather not pay taxes toward SET-U, just as much as we'd all rather not fund their numerous weapons development programs."
Sling dirt, Blue, thought Piper, proudly. When they sling dirt, you gotta throw a bit back. She then felt something tug on the hem of her coat. She looked down and saw Shaun, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.
"Water, please."
Piper sighed. She reached into her pockets and pulled out a small can of distilled water that she kept for just such an occasion.
"I hope you didn't eat all of that candy in one sitting," she said, opening the can and handing it to Shaun, who drank it down greedily. "What do you say?"
"Thank you," said Shaun politely. "How come nobody wants to give the Minutemen money?"
"Because you're talking too loud," teased Piper, flicking Shaun's nose. "Now, stay with me, stop running off, and watch your dad."
A familiar figure in a red varsity jacket stood up in the crowd, and Piper couldn't help but let out a laugh. Neither could Will, as he pointed towards him. The man was wearing those dopey sunglasses again.
"Travis "Lonely" Miles here, Diamond City Radio, and just a wonderful day to you, General Lamont. Now, some cool cat's little birdie told me that the General himself was considering a bid for the presidency once the Constitution is written up. I'd like to ask: is it true? And if it is, how do you fancy your chances against another potential presidential candidate— say, Elder Maxson?"
Piper smiled. Another possible question that she envisioned being asked. She reckoned someone was bound to ask it eventually, and of course, "Mr. Confidence" had to be the first to do it (after all, it was Piper who'd planted that rumor in Travis's ear in the first place… Will would chastise her, but all good fires needed stoking). Nevertheless, the unflappable General of the Minutemen was more than capable of fielding it. Will let out a good-hearted chuckle before crafting his response:
"Well Travis, firstly I'd like to warn you about calling Piper a 'little birdie...'" said Will with a smirk. "... as she does take issue with that. And secondly, I'd like to remind you that this event is about the opening of Kingsport Polytechnic. And thirdly, I can neither confirm nor deny if I'm going to run for President— though, yes, I have considered it. Just like I considered wearing my leather jacket to this event, or whether I'd have brahmin steak or radstag stew for dinner tonight."
"Oh sure, but Elder Maxson—"
"I'm aware of Elder Maxson's intentions for the presidency, and I definitely won't stand in his way, and good luck to him— or to whomever he selects to run in his place," interjected Will slyly. "But people, the office hasn't even been established yet. The Constitution is still being written, and there's still plenty of work to be done before we can set up elections. For now, the provisional government council will continue to serve the good citizens of the Commonwealth. We can worry about who to elect president at a later time."
His answer left the reporters in attendance in a state of murmured frenzy, as they furiously jotted down every word.
"Next question please, and just a reminder to keep questions relevant to the opening of Kingsport Polytechnic," said Morgan. "General, you may call on a next—"
"General, are you concerned about the legal implications of opening your settlement on Brotherhood controlled territory?" A cutting voice suddenly interrupted Morgan. Will looked through the crowd, frowning.
"I'm sorry, who said—"
"Are you aware, General, that your actions today are in violation of the Charlestown Armistice?" said the voice again. "Can you give a response to the comments Elder Maxson made regarding today's opening?"
The figure presented herself. She stood up from the crowd, and all eyes went to her. She was dressed in a brown trench coat tied around the waist, and a battered fedora on her head that held her tightly tied greying hair in place. She looked to Will with an expression on her face that at a layman's glance, could be construed as friendly. But Piper knew insincerity when she saw it, and recognized the poisoned honey pot of charm that that woman had behind her eyes. It seemed as though Will saw it too, because he was immediately taken aback.
"I don't recall ever doing anything to break the Armistice. I'd know, I agreed to it personally," said Will. "And you are…?"
"Sonya Thornton, Commonwealth Veritas."
"Oh, Miss Thornton. So good to see you," said Will. "You'll be pleased to see that I've decided to put on the uniform today."
A few of the Minutemen officers who were present snickered. There was not a lot of love for Sonya Thornton or the Commonwealth Veritas among the Minutemen rank and file. Thornton and company were known for publishing hit pieces on Minutemen soldiers, falsely accusing them of brutality or corruption, whilst blindly ignoring actions imposed by the Brotherhood of Steel. However, their favorite targets were the officers and higher-ups, and no higher-up was targeted more than the General of the Minutemen himself. It seemed as though every other week, Will Lamont was at fault for one thing or another.
"This isn't the first time you've accused me of breaking the peace, Miss Thornton," said Will calmly. "Could you elaborate?"
Sonya grinned: a cloyingly sweet grin, so obviously disingenuous.
"By opening an illegal settlement on Brotherhood territory, you broke accords with the Brotherhood when you had originally agreed that both sides would honor the integrity and sovereign right of each faction's settlements," she said, drippingly sweet. "I'm sure you're aware, General, that this settlement once belonged to the Brotherhood of Steel?"
"Once did," corrected Will. "It once did. Yet they did not plant their flag—"
"But they did establish a garrison—"
"A garrison that abandoned the settlement a few months later, allowing rogue Atomists to recapture it."
"Yet the land still belongs to the Brotherhood," said Sonya Thornton. "And the point still remains that the Minutemen stole the settlement while the Brotherhood were still planning on mounting an attack."
"Yes, Miss Thornton. That's a very familiar concept to us," said Will. "They plan, we attack." Members of the crowd, especially the Minutemen present, laughed.
"Yes, attacking without any legal right to be there. I wonder, General, why then did you not hand the settlement over to the Brotherhood once you liberated it from the Atomists?" questioned Sonya. "Because according to the Armistice—"
"You don't need to quote the Armistice to me, Sonya, I was there to write it," snapped Will. "The point is moot, because the Brotherhood never declared Kingsport as one of their settlements in the charter, therefore it can not be considered as one of the original settlements ratified under their jurisdiction."
"And yet, the Brotherhood has still declared it to be their land," shot back Sonya. "And it's not as if they don't have a rightful claim, surely you can see this."
"The Brotherhood doesn't own shit!" yelled a member of the audience. Piper noticed the throng of listeners standing behind the seated press, beginning to grow rowdier by the minute.
"Tell it to the soldiers that died so you could stand here today, Miss Thornton," said Will angrily. "Tell it to the ground beneath your feet. Tell it to the blue flag up there. The Brotherhood may have owned Kingsport once. But the Minutemen own it now."
"And what about Arthur Maxson's comments?" asked Sonya, holding up her tape recorder.
"If Arthur Maxson wants this settlement back, he can march up here from his shiny balloon and tell it to our faces, and he'd better bring his Knights with him," shot back Will.
The entire crowd tensed up, including Piper and Preston. That was unlike Will to speak so candidly.
"Easy there, Lamont," murmured Preston.
It was the exact answer that Sonya Thornton was looking for. She spoke loudly and clear enough for the entire settlement to hear.
"Are you saying you'd go to war with the Brotherhood of Steel to keep your settlement?"
There was a slight pause. Will answered shortly.
"No," replied Will. "I believe in peace, and I believe that the Brotherhood and the Minutemen can work together to uphold that peace. What I'm talking about is defending a settlement that is now rightfully ours, by every legal precedent. And if anyone were to try and take our settlement away from us, we'd have no choice but defend ourselves."
"But—"
"I would sooner call the sorry publication of yours a newspaper than I would call Kingsport a Brotherhood settlement, Miss Thornton," snapped Will. "Quote that for your readers."
The crowd laughed, as Sonya Thornton's jaw tightened. Preston let out a sigh of relief.
"What do you think? Did he save it?" he asked Piper.
"Maybe," said Piper with a smile. "But he ruined it by saying 'Quote that for your readers.'"
Now it was Will's turn to give Sonya an insincere smile.
"Now, if you're done with your questions Miss Thornton, I'd like to speak to an actual reporter for a second."
"I actually have one more question, General," said Sonya. Will rolled his eyes and made a gesture for her to continue.
"What do you make of the rumors that your son is a synth?"
The settlement became silent, and every eye in Kingsport turned towards the General. Piper felt a cold wave of fear rush through her chest. She looked to Preston, who was similarly bewildered. Hancock's jaw had dropped.
"What the fuck?!" said Hancock.
"A… A what? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that—"
"A synth, General Lamont. What do you make of the rumors that your son, one Shaun Lamont, is actually a synth constructed by the Institute?"
"Well— I don't— I don't know anything about those rumors. You must be mistaken."
"I'm afraid not, General Lamont," said the reporter. As she spoke, the crowd hung on every word. "Are you unaware of these allegations? Shall I enlighten you?"
"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but if you don't have any questions about the event—"
"Because it would seem that new evidence has come to light regarding the mysterious and sudden appearance of your 'son.'"
"Oh, mysterious, huh?" challenged Will.
"We need to get out of here," breathed Piper under her breath. "We need to get out of here right now."
"Where is he? Where is Shaun?" said Preston.
Shaun had run off back to the tree where the stray cat had been, seemingly unaware of the bombshell that had just been dropped. Piper hesitated before calling out to him, worrying about drawing more attention to the boy.
"Shaun!" Piper hissed. "Shaun!"
Shaun came running over. "What is it?"
"Stay with me. We're leaving."
"But… but why?"
"Ms. Thornton, you're being delusional," said Will firmly. "My son is not a synth. He was kidnapped by the Institute as an infant from Vault 111, and was raised there until I rescued him. Now if anyone else has any more questions—"
"And for what purpose would the Institute have for an infant child, General?" interrupted Thornton. "I'm sure we all remember that the Institute took many people of the Commonwealth captive— and destroyed many lives in the process. But the Institute never kidnapped children. They said so themselves during their trial: replacing children with synths was pointless because no one would give a child vital information about the Commonwealth. I'm sure that former Institute scientist and key witness to the trial, Newton Oberly would agree with that statement, wouldn't you doctor?"
"Please," protested Newton Oberly, sweating buckets as all eyes present turned to him and his family. "Miss Thornton, I never agreed to do this in public…!"
"In fact, there is a lot of information that Mr. Oberly can back me up on. He went on record with the Commonwealth Veritas: that that child over there..." Thornton declared, pointing her finger at Shaun standing offstage. "... Was being kept in the Institute's Advanced Systems Division, having just… how did you say it? Oh yeah, 'having just suddenly appeared one day, a ten-year-old boy with no parents and no name, just a designation code: S9-23.' Mr. Oberly, you recognize that boy, don't you?"
"I was never in Advanced Systems, I just saw a child— General, please, you have to believe me, I never—"
"And would you believe it General, there's no shortage of former members of the Institute that recognize that boy by your side? Especially Dr. Madison Li, former head of Advanced Systems, who also went on record, saying that her department was indeed responsible for the creation of a synth by the name of S9-23; a new kind of synth commissioned by the director of the Institute himself, a synth that thinks its a child. Care to comment?"
"That's not… I mean that can't be—" sputtered General Lamont.
"But strangely enough, not a single member of Advanced Systems nor the Institute themselves named your son as a synth during the trial. They named countless others, but never your son. I wonder, how did you manage to swing that? Oh sure, the Institute got what was coming to them, but we all know that it was all thanks to you that they weren't all completely wiped off the face of the earth. Maybe they thought to curry your favor?"
"I don't know what you're insinuating, but—"
"Or were they just following their dear leader's final orders, I wonder? One last twisted experiment to carry out? An anonymous source has provided the evidence— a holotape from the former Director of the Institute himself, "Father" as he was known, addressed to you, General—"
"He wasn't— what?"
"—that I have with me here—" said Ms. Thornton, holding her hand up so the whole settlement of Kingsport could see it. In between her two fingers was a holotape. "—that I would be happy to play for all of us, right now."
Will looked bewildered. "How did you get that?" he demanded. The crowd gasped at his words.
"In this holotape, the Director of the Institute speaks to you personally, asking you to raise a certain synth as your own son. Shall I play you the tape?" demanded Ms. Thornton. She had pulled a holotape recorder from her purse, and was now loading her evidence into the device.
"Please— could someone please escort Ms. Thornton out of this settlement?"
"... This synth… this boy. He deserves more. He has been re-programmed to believe he is your son. It is my hope that you will take him with you—"
"TURN THAT OFF!" yelled Will.
The crowd was starting to get dangerously rowdy now. People were beginning to turn on the General, screaming at him.
"General Lamont, could you please elaborate on the nature of the relationship between you and the last director of the Institute? Did you maintain a correspondence?"
"You're wrong. You're wrong!" shouted Will. "This press conference is over!"
"Is it true that you asked the Institute to build you S9-23?"
"My son is not a synth!"
"TRAITOR!"
They were looking at Shaun now, some of them; pointing, screaming, accusing. Minutemen security struggled to hold a raucous group of attendees away from the stage.
"Come on!" said Piper firmly. "We're going. We're leaving now. Preston, we gotta go."
"Is it true?"
Piper looked at Shaun, who stood silently with his eyes to the ground.
"W-what is, honey?"
"Is what she said true?!" yelled Shaun, turning to her, tears welling in his eyes.
Piper struggled for words, but they wouldn't come to her. And then somebody yelled:
"He's there! The kid is there!"
And then the words that Piper feared.
"Kill him!"
"NO!" yelled Will. His sidearm had been drawn.
There was a scream. Someone had pushed through the crowd, dashing past the line with a shiny metal object in his hand. He was headed straight for Shaun. Piper saw Will raise his gun. For a moment, she was sure he was about to fire— until the man was tackled to the ground by event security.
Will cursed loudly. He looked offstage to her.
"Piper! Take Shaun and get him out of here!" he yelled. "Preston, I need you to-
He was cut off, as a flying projectile caught his forehead and he fell to his knees holding his face, cursing. She looked at the angry crowd. They were throwing rocks.
Piper threw herself over Shaun instinctively, turning him away from the angry crowd, hiding him with her body. She looked at Preston, who had stood himself in front of both of them, taking a shot to the forearm as he held it up protectively.
"You need to get him out of here," she said hoarsely, as a rock sailed past. "They're going to kill him."
"Like hell they will," barked Preston. He grabbed ahold of the nearest Minuteman.
"Prepare a VIP escort, priority alpha. I want six men flanking the General's family right now. Two men to secure the General's exit. Our fall back point is Salem. I want a contingent left behind to deal with the rioters— as peacefully as you can. Understood?" ordered Preston. All of his humble awkwardness had been replaced by the raw, fiery energy of a battle-hardened veteran. This was Preston in his element: protecting people at a minute's notice.
"Yes sir. At once, sir," said the Minuteman, who began hurriedly relaying orders into his radio. "All units, execute contingency plan kilo: two men on Honcho, six with the family. Fall back point is the Rook."
Piper watched as the Minutemen held the frenzied crowd back, taking down those who got past the line.
She felt something shake in her arms. It was Shaun. His face was pale white, and shaking uncontrollably.
Piper covered him with her jacket; spun with ballistic weave, easily tough enough to protect him from any rocks thrown. "Hush, kiddo. It's okay, don't look at them. Just get under here okay? Don't look at them."
"I'm s-scared," cried Shaun.
"I know baby, I know," Piper crooned, her voice strained from fear as she tried her best to not sound just as frightened as he was. "I got you, okay? I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."
"Look out!" someone yelled.
There was a sudden loud crack in the air that sent the crowd into an instant panic. Piper felt the bullet zip past, a foot or so above her ear. She screamed, holding onto Shaun as tightly as she could. Suddenly, there were bullets everywhere.
And then, something hit her.
"Oh."
She had barely registered the shot, yet suddenly her entire face was covered in blood. Piper felt a sharp, debilitating pain on her forehead, that buckled her knees and sent her to the ground. Her vision slowly clouded into shadow, and the world became black.
Happy New Year everyone. This is where I do my thing where I apologise for how long it took me to write this chapter. So I apologise for how long it took me to write this chapter.
Some notes to clarify: I changed the name for some key terms. Instead of Joint-Comprehensive Accords, I changed it to the Constitutional Convention. Instead of Commonwealth Journal, I changed it to Commonwealth Veritas. And finally, I changed The Paperclip to Project ADAM, a singular instalment in what is to be the first in a group of stories I call The American Dream.
Please leave reviews, I love all feedback, good or bad.
