Synthetic Jazz
A crescent moon hung low over the great green jewel of the Commonwealth. Dozens of people mulled around the city center guided by street lamps. Travelers packed the merchant stalls and locals filled the bars.
Warren slipped through the alleyways away from the hustle and bustle. He wore full combat armor and a flight helmet to conceal his face. The Gunners had put a price on his head a while back. They were often prowling Diamond City for work and women.
Other than the fire barrels marking turns in the side street the alleys were dark. Warren made his way down the twists until he spied a neon pink heart shimmering in the darkness. The Valentine Detective Agency. He took it's turn and wrapped his fist on the old cargo door.
"Come in," Came a sweet voice from the other side. Warren obliged and entered the small apartment. "Oh, and how can the Agency help you today?"
"I'm looking for Nick," Warren unclasped his helmet and sit it on the edge of the young woman's desk. "We had a meeting scheduled."
"Of course, Warren!" Ellie Perkins glanced up from her book with a smile. She waved him towards the stairs. "Nick's upstairs in his office."
"Thanks, Ellie." Warren said as he made his way up the stairs. She merely gave him an 'mhmm' and went back to reading.
The stairs let out into a small living area with a door tucked away in the back. It was slightly ajar letting light slip out. Warren gave a light knock as he eased it open.
Nick Valentine sit back in his chair feet propped on the desk. He held a dossier in one hand, glowing yellow eyes scanning it's contents. The other ashed a cigarette in an overflowing ashtray on his cluttered desk. The synthetic man smothered the burning butt in the ashes as he turned to greet his visitor.
"You're early as usual, General." Nick tossed the dossier onto a stack of folders. He uncrossed his feet and stood to shake Warren's hand.
"Good to see you, Nick." Warren greeted him as they clasped hands.
"I've done some digging on the Kellogg case in the last few weeks," Nick stepped around the desk to a large map of the Commonwealth he had nailed to the walls. He adjusted one of the lamps to shine on the desolate Glowing Sea at the bottom. Four thumb tacks where dotted across the hellscape. Three a faded yellow and one dull red. "Kellogg had four areas that he intended to scout for Virgil in. But I've narrowed it down to one starting point after scanning through his memories. All clues are pointing to this area in the Glowing Sea."
"He must have been horrified to run to somewhere as toxic as that," Warren scanned the Commonwealth's map. The southern portion was little more than desolate wastelands for miles on end. Until it ran into the sickly green festering maelstrom that fueled the Glowing Sea. Any expedition into to those wilds typically ended in an agonizing death from radiation. Few braved the sea, fewer still came back to spread stories.
"Hard to say where he will be exactly," Nick fished a cigarette from his overcoat and sparked it up. "The chunk of Kellogg's brain has a limited amount of memory buried in it. I've scanned through them hundreds of times yet we're still limited to what was stored in that fragment. A lot of it is jumbled, hard to decipher due to trauma from his death."
"Yeah, I'd imagine," Warren stroked his beard as he eyed the red tack. "So, what is our lucky winner?"
"Kellogg intended to trek out and interrogate a group of crazies at a crater on the edge of the Commonwealth map." Nick tapped a metal finger on the bottom corner of the map near the crimson tack. "Children of Atom nuts have settled in the place, soaking up all the rads. He believed they would have information on any strangers settling around their area."
"If he planned on checking it out for himself then it sounds like a good starting point." Warren said. "I'll get my power armor from Homeplate and head out within the hour."
"I'll give you dossier so you can read it on the way," Nick nodded as he puffed on the cigarette. He made his way back to his desk and pulled out a manella folder. "Everything I've found is copied in here. Read it top to bottom, don't skim. Good luck, Warren, keep your eyes peeled out there."
"You're brilliant, Nick." Warren took the dossier and slide it into his backpack. "Thanks for your help. I'll have Piper drop my payment off sometime soon."
They shook hands once more before Warren made his exit.
... Days Laters…
"You've bastards finally come for me!" The super mutant growled in a surprisingly intelligent manner. He flung his stool backwards as he stood from the makeshift desk in a rage. "Where's Kellogg? I knew they would send him!"
"Take it easy... Kellogg is dead." Warren lowered his laser rifle as he spoke. "I killed him myself. But I was expecting to find a man here."
"Dead? Impossible." The super mutant grumbled, he visibly relaxed as the muzzle lowered. "He's done the Institute's dirty work for so many years... All of the body enhancements... How?"
"I put two of his own 44 rounds through his head," Warren's voice came out calmly through the static of the power armor's filtration hoses. "Then I dug out a chunk of his brain and found out about you."
"I see..." The super mutant, Virgil he presumed, laid his hands upon on the desk. "Then why have you sought me out in such a hostile place?"
"I need a way into the Institute." Warren gritted his teeth as he spoke. "They took my son. I need to get in to free him."
"An excellent reason, young man." Virgil sighed, he harbored a shred of personal responsibility for many of the Institute unhinged actions on the surface. He had indulged in a number of those experiments himself. "The Institute has taken many surface dwellers for their experiments. It is... Barbaric in hindsight. Do you know how the Institute get out of their hideaway?"
"Not particularly. I have ideas, but nothing solid." Warren stated. He watched the super mutant pick up his stool and reposition it at his desk.
"Teleportation." Virgil took a seat on the stool and turned to face the General. He spoke with a professor's certainty. "It sounds like fiction. To be de-materialized in one place, then rematerialized in another. But it is reality. We call it the Molecular Relay. More precisely it is the only way in and out of the Institute."
"Teleportation?" Warren asked quizzically. He could hardly believed they had cracked such a technology. "That's almost impossible... Yet the Institute can effectively create artificial people..." Warren paused mid-sentence at the absurdity of it all. "How would I even get access to teleportation network?"
"You would need a direct uplink into the Relay Network." Stubby green fingers stroked the mutants chin as he sit in thought. "A courser chip would work. Provided you can kill one of the monsters and break it's encryption. Not a simple task."
"Never heard of a courser." Warren responded. "Where can I find one and how am I getting the chip?"
"Few topsiders have. Coursers are one of the Institute's many lethal secrets. They are genetically engineered apex predators. Designed for the specific task of locating stray synths." Virgil paused in thought as he wondered where one could be found. "That Pip-boy of yours has a radio? Travel to the C.I.T Ruins, the Institute is beneath it in a vault like structure. You should be able to pick up a stray courser signal if there are any on the surface in the area. The chip itself is located at the base of the cerebellum."
"Great, I get to dig another fragment out of someone's skull." Warren muttered in disgust. "How exactly is going to help?"
"Very enthusiastic, friend." Virgil gave a throaty chuckle at that. "While you are off chasing a courser I will draw up the schematics for a signal interceptor. Once you link the chip into the interceptor it will allow you to return to the source of the signal inside the Institute.Though it will take time. My fine-motor skills have gone to shit in this form."
"Start drawing, doctor." Warren shouldered his rifle and turned to leave. "I'll be back soon."
"Before you go," Virgil spoke up. "I have to ask a favor for the information I've given you."
"Go on."
"Theoretically..." He began his gaze fixated on his swollen, mutated hand. "There exists an antidote for my condition. If you come across samples of anything of that nature in your visit to the Institute I would like you to retrieve it. I would reward you handsomely in return."
"If I come across anything you'll be the first to know," Warren turned to leave the cave. He had a long trek through the rad storms ahead.
...
The beeping intensified as Warren approached the double doors of the Greentech Genetics building. Gunfire rumbled from deep within the towering structure. He flicked his radio off and threw the door. Warren scanned the lobby with his combat rifle as he entered.
A Gunner's corpse lay slumped over the receptionist desk. Two more where crumpled across a group of lounges to his right. The echos of distant gunfire interlaced with energy retaliation greeted him from deep within the structure. Warren spotted a sign for the stairwell across the room. Carefully he eased across the empty lobby.
Another merc lay dead in the door frame. His head jamming the door ajar beneath a pool of crimson. Warren kicked him aside to open it. Inside stairwell the constant thunderous boom of the fire fight upstairs was nearly unbearable.
Warren continued up following the sound to it's source. As he neared the third stairwell signs of the carnage were more evident. Three corpses were scattered across the third floor landing. Every single one of them bore identical wounds. Perfect circles seared clear through helmets, flesh, and skulls with laser precision.
The stairs leading up into the fourth floor were blocked by rubble that had collapsed over the landing. Twisted rebar and crumbling concrete slabs barricaded the only door away from prying scavengers. However, the Gunners had tore through the wall forming a ramp back down into the third floor. The gap led into an office area lined with destroyed personal cubicles. Warren his readied his rifle and stepped in.
"Lock down on level four! All personal on level four focus fire on the threat!" A commanding voice boomed across the buildings intercom systems. "All other personal secure your level's entrances. Barricade all entry points. Do not let him advance any further!"
Warren continued through the offices and out into the hallway. There were only two bodies on the third floor hallway. Warren surmised that the Gunners had regrouped and retreated into better defensive positions after the initial attack.
He climbed up a collapsed portion of the hall's ceiling that formed another ramp up into the fourth floor. A barricade of desks and filing cabinets were stacked around the makeshift entry. Though a hole was blown through the center. Several large puddles of glowing green slime were scattered about smoldering on the floor.
Dead Gunners decorated the decimated barricade. Warren jumped it to continue down the hall to the door on the far end.
Inside a Mr. Gutsy sit crumpled against the wall. Half of its globe like headpiece melted away revealing the wiring beneath. Warren carefully made his way over half a dozen dead defenders scattered up and down the stairs.
As he emerged into the fifth floor he paused to take in the destruction the Courser had left in his wake. At least a dozen men had tried to hold up in the hallways. Each of them had been killed for their efforts.
"All heavy infantry to level 7 section 7B! All personal vacate section 7A immediately! Evacuate 7A Now!" The intercom commanded in a furious tone. Laser blasts and gunfire rang out through the system somewhere off behind the speaker. "Section 7A demolition is cleared! Repeat, 7A demolition is cleared!"
Explosions tore through the walls two floors above Warren. Its shockwave caused the entire building to quake violently. It threw Warren against the wall. Ancient fire alarms simmered to life and began to wail through the halls. He steadied himself and continued on. Warren pushed up the stairs and through the next two floors. He passed dead Gunners and fried robots without a second thought.
The stairwell leading to the seventh floor was little more than a gaping hole in the wall. The railing to the stairs themselves hung mangled to scrap metal over the open edge. Flames roared through the blasted out entry to the seventh floor. The gap poured out a plume of smoke into the evening sky.
Warren scanned the destruction for another route. He debated circling back to the opposite stairwell on the other side. Then he saw it. Collapsed ruble provided a makeshift ramp up into the inferno.
Warren powered up the ramp and hauled himself up to the entry. Inside the seventh floor hallway fire ate away at the walls. The alarms blared relentlessly. Only the occasional rusted out sprinkle came to life raining out clay red water. It did little to extinguish the flame, only throwing up black smoke in billows down the hall. Warren paid the fire little mind, his power armor shielded him from the heat and toxic fumes.
"The threat is still active! All arms free!" Someone screamed over the intercom through bouts of drizzling static. "God help us-"
"Bar the goddamn door, I want frag mines in the stairs on the double," A gruffer voice took over the intercom. He sounded as if he had control of the situation. "Everyone left hold up on the ninth floor. Put a rifle in every room! We're gonna bring this son of a bitch down!"
The intercom was overrun by the fizzle of laser bursts and a hail of gunfire. It fell silent as Warren climbed up into the eighth floor.
He was met by wrecked barricades, a couple sizzling protectrons, and thirteen dead men scattered behind it. The carnage was littered all through the eighth floor. Bullet holes splattered the stairwells walls. The occasional corpse marked the stairs as Warren ascended to the ninth floor.
At least ten more dead men greeted Warren just through the threshold of the stairwell. This marked the end of the main stairwell and the beginning of the ninth floor. Tucked away down the hall was a door labeled Maintenance Stairs'. On his way across the room Warren spotted two men slumped over a desk through a door ripped off it's hinges in a side office. One still held the intercom's mouthpiece clenched in his bloody fist.
The gunfire had faded away to silence. Warren braved the final flight of stairs. Only the howl of a lonely breeze whipped through the shattered windows.
"Smart remarks will only result in death. Where is the password?" A level voice asked in an almost polite tone breaking the unnerving calm. "If I have to repeat myself once more then I'll shoot you in the guts."
"You killed everyone that knows!" A young man pleaded on the verge of tears. "I'll hack it! I'm pretty good with old tech-"
"If I intended to hack it you would already be dead," A laser pistol fired followed by a shrill scream. "You! What's the password? Answer wisely or I'll throw you off the roof."
Warren crept up the final stairs with his combat rifle at the ready. He rounded the doorway and leveled it's sights on the Courser's head.
"Are you here for the girl?" The Courser twisted his aim on Warren immediately. His gaunt features soured at the sight of power armor. He continued in an even tone. "I'm afraid she's already rescued."
"She's not my problem," Warren cautiously advanced up the steps into the top floor. Two Gunners kneeled cowering before the Courser. Behind them a young woman stared in horror through the plate-glass window. "...I'm here for you! I need that chip lodged in your brain."
Warren fired a hail of bullets at the Courser.
The Courser dashed to the left. Though sustained damage made him slow. Most of the bullets impacted his side as he moved. The lead dinged off of his trench coat, yet several sizzled through his hand. He fired a volley of lasers in response.
They smudged off of the armor's enamel coating as Warren surged forward to tackle him. He kept firing as he bore down on the couser. Sending round after round at the man.
The courser dashed behind a table and sent it hurting at Warren with a kick. He dropped to one knee as his form began fading to invisibility.
Warren slammed through the table, splintering it to pieces, and into the Courser at a full sprint. Both of them sailed forward and crashed into the wall. Warren crashed atop the Courser pinning him with one hand by the throat. He raised the other too wail on him.
The courser caught the blow with both hands. Veins bulged across his forehead as he strained to hold back the hydraulic powered fist. The courser violently kicked at the armor's mid-section. His genetically enhanced legs leaving dents in the armor's steel plating.
Warren hefted up his own armored boot to stomp on the courser's outstretched arms. The synth was fast enough to nearly free himself before Warren brought down his foot like an anvil on his arm.
Warren felt it crunch like a trig under the armor's weight. The courser showed no pain at the injury. Only a collected anger behind his eyes. The synth twisted his body like a snake, he paid his shattered arm no regard, as he delivered a round house kick Warren's helmet.
The Courser's heel caught the corner of his helm, just above the right eye. It's brute sent a crack down through the visor's lense. Abd rattled Warren's head like a bell causing him to stumble back off the Courser's arm.
The synth went for his pistol with his good hand and let loose a burst of laser beams into Warren's visor.
Blinded by the intense crimson beams Warren surged forward in a wild dash at his attacker. He surged into the injured synth once more, driving them to the ground. He gripped the pistol and he struggled to rip it free. Warren raised his foot once more and stepped the Courser's leg. Feeling the synth's grip tear loose at that he flung the pistol across the room.
In a rage the synth tore at the edge of his chest plate. There was a horrific screech as bolts tore loose. Warren felt his whole chest piece sag from the frame as the Courser prayed at the edge. It attempted to drag itself free from Warren's vice grip. The courser kicked, clawed, and scraped at the armored frame like a cornered animal.
The synth's mangled hand reached behind the plate to rip loose the wiring underneath. His boots slammed over and over again into the armor's leg riggings as he writhed to free himself from its iron grasp. Warren collapsed to one knee as a powerful kick sheared away the dinged up plating around his left leg.
The power armor's alarm siren wailed in his ear at the sudden damage to it's frame. Warren growled in a rage as he clawed at the synth's throat from atop it. His fingers clenched around the synth's throat. The iron knuckles of his hydraulic fist ground together at the force. He felt artificial bone crumble and synthetic flesh tear under his grip. It only pushed the courser to fight even harder, like a desperate animal in a trap.
Warren searched blindly, frantically with his left hand for his combat rifle. He felt it's weight on his fingertips and scooped it up.
In one fell motion Warren released the synth's throat, stomped onto its chest to propel himself backward then unloaded the rifle's clip into the Courser's head.
As the red gaze cleared he spied the Courser slumped dead against the crumbling wall.
Warren tugged the damaged helmet off his head and tossed it to the floor. He hit the release on his power armor and hopped out of it with a hiss. Carefully he circled the power armor to get what he came here for.
The synth lay in a crumpled heap, nearly buried into the wall's rubble. Its torso was coated in small tears from the bullet impacts though few penetrated. Its left arm lay limp and mangled. Little more than pulp. The upper half of its skull was blown away revealing the mesh of wires and grey matter beneath.
Warren knelt before the corpse and unfasten the buttons on the courser's trench coat. He grabbed the synth by the collar of his coat and flipped him on his stomach. The General pulled a hunting knife from his belt and flicked his thumb along it's blade. He lined its point up to make a clean incision down the base of the skull.
With gloved fingers he rooted through the synthetic viscera until he plucked the courser chip free. He wrapped it in cloth and dropped it in his pouch. Next Warren worked the leather coat off it's former owner. The leather had been through hell, but it only had cosmetic damage and still held together fairly well.
Tossing the coat over his shoulder Warren turned to the stunned Gunner.
The man sit huddled in the corner cradling the singed wound through his guts. He rocked back and forth shivering in agony. Ever so often letting out a long whimper. His friend lay dead near the door terminal. A stray laser round had seared through his temple.
"I know you didn't come here for me," the woman in the room spoke frantically as she stared pass Warren. Wisps of tarry smoke had began funneling up the stairwell. "But you're my only way out! The password is in that toolbox, please, mister!"
"An army of Gunners and a synth were after you," Warren cocked his head to the side as he stared her down. "You seem pretty valuable. Do you have a bounty on your head?"
"No!" She shook her head dismayed at his response. "No! You got it wrong! The Gunners ambushed my caravan on the way to Bunker Hill. I swear!"
"But you're a synth? That's why he was here." Warren questioned as he eyed her while jutting his thumb at the courser. He spied the toolbox amidst several crates in the corner.
"I am," the woman confirmed. "I'm synth designation K1-98. I prefer Jenny."
"Listen, I'm kind of on a job," Warren explained as he fished the passcode from the tool box. "I'll let you out, but I can't help beyond that."
"I completely understand! All I need is for you to open the door." She placed a dirty hand on the window as she pleaded with Warren.
"I'm Warren, General of the Minutemen." Warren typed the code in and released the doors latches. "If you head to Starlight City, Sanctuary or Slogtown they can help you further."
The door slid upwards with a strained groan. Jenny stepped out into freedom and shot a weary glance at the dead courser. She pranced over and knelt between his legs to grab the laser pistol he no longer needed.
"Maybe I can blend into the crowds in Diamond City," She stated half jokingly as she turned to Warren. "Do you have a plan to get us out of here?"
"Kind of," Warren twisted the valve to open his power armor. "We're going to cram in my armor together. It's a tight fit, but it'll protect us from the fire and smoke."
"You can't be serious?" Jenny asked, eyeing the growing flames just beyond the doorway. Then the damaged power armor with its chest piece sagging loose. "Will that thing even work with two people?"
"You're welcome to stay and burn," Warren waved her farewell as he climbed into the armor. "Or you can come on."
"Don't leave me!" Jenny yelped as she ran over to to the armor. She climbed in behind Warren, wrapping her arms around his waist, resting her chin on his shoulder and nestling as close as she could. It was almost nice until she sharply snapped "Don't get any wrong ideas, Mr. General."
"Of course not," Warren smirked as he hit the engagement switch. The armor gave a hydraulic hiss as it's chasty sealed shut. It left the two of them smooshed together between interior padding. Warren squirmed as he grunted "Your chin's digging into my neck!"
Smoke filled the entire room now. Thick and black, full of pollution as the fire gutted the floors below them.
"I can't really move," Jenny sighed as she wiggled behind him to no avail. "Just get us out of here."
"I'm on it," Warren guided them to the roof access doors. He kicked it open and stepped onto the open roof. The wind howled around them, carrying pillars of black smoke off into the clouds.
"Whoa, where the hell are we?" Jenny only caught small glimpses of the blue sky through the damaged visor. "We need to go down! You're wasting time!"
"Oh, we are." Warren quipped as he stepped over the edge of the tenth floor.
"What the fuuuuu-" Jenny shrieked in sheer terror as they plummeted towards the earth. Warren braced himself and urged her to do the same. Though he doubt she heard him over her own screams.
The concrete shattered under the power armor's impact. Cracks spiderwebbed through the sideway all around it. A cloud of cement dust billowed into the air.
As the dust settled Warren disengaged the power armor.
He felt a weight lift as Jenny unclenched herself from his torso and jumped out. He engaged the power armor once more and turned to face her.
"Are you insane?" Jenny blurted, quivering in her boots. Her skin paper pale, visibly shaken by the jump. "What the hell? We could have died!"
"But we didn't," Warren pointed out. He cocked his head back to gaze up at the tower. The top four stories were engulfed in fire, spewing out pillars of smoke into the sky. He offered Jenny a wave as he started off down the street. "We better get moving. I'm heading to Good Neighbor, I'll see you around."
"Hey! Hey, wait up! You may be crazy, but you're a problem solver." Jenny called out as she rushed to catch up with Warren's hulking form already walking down the road. "Could I come with you? It's hard on the road for a girl on her own."
"If you can keep up," Warren confirmed as they continued down the road.
...
"Well, this is where we part ways, General." Jenny offered Warren her hand.
The two of them stood just inside the entrance of Good Neighbor. Warren had exited his power armor and stretched his arms as they said their farewells just beyond a street lamp's glow.
"If you're interested in the Minutemen," Warren took her hand in a firm grasp. "Come and see me at Starlight City sometimes."
"Maybe I'll take you up on it," Jenny gave him one last smile over her shoulder as she stepped off into the city. Warren watched her until she faded into the crowd. He popped his knuckles one last time then climbed back into his power armor.
He had a doctor to meet. Warren made his way through the alleyways between burnt out sky-rises that composed most of Good Neighbor. Thugs, caravaneers, and junkies packed the storefronts. Most minded their own business, though the power armor drew the occasional eye.
A large pre-war theater, with a massive, gaudy portico sign across the front was across the street. Most of its weathered white letters had fell free, however someone nailed up a smaller sign above the double doors. It read in bold, stylized letters "The Memory Den."
It was an interesting joint. Warren had heard tales of the plays that were performed there before the war, but he had never bothered to visit. But now, a seasoned customer of the establishment, he could still hardly wrap his mind around the virtual reality technology. Regardless, Dr. Amari, the de facto head doctor of the facility, was the only person he knew that may have some insight on an Institute chip.
Warren disengaged his power armor in the lobby. He left it stalled away in the corner as he entered the main lounge. Twelve pod-like structures occupied the edges of the room. A red carpet led to a lounging area in the center of the room.
"Warren, darling, what brings you back to town?" Irma asked from atop of her crimson sofa.
"Business as usual. It's always good to see you, madam." Warren took her hand and gave it the faintest kiss. "Is Dr. Amari in? I have some urgent questions."
"She's always in, dear!" Irma laughed behind a veiny hand. "My poor girl never leaves her lab. Go on, show yourself inside."
Warren gave the elderly lady a parting wave. Then made for the stairwell tucked away in the corner of the room.
Dr. Amari sit behind a desk clattering away at a terminal. She did not even notice the door open and close behind her. Warren cleared his throat to gather her attention.
"I'm very busy," the doctor stated firmly as she stubbed out a cigarette at the interruption. Warm green eyes peered over black glasses up at Warren. "Oh, I hadn't realized you were around, Warren. Still busy though."
"Of course, Doctor." Warren offered her a smile as he rifled through his satchel. "But I hope you had a second to give me your opinion on something..."
"Only a second," She stated, eyes falling back to the terminal.
"I snagged a Courser chip," Warren unwrapped the bloody cloth and held it up for her to examine the small plastic piece.
The typing ceased immediately. Dr. Amari stared over her glasses at the chip, shock scribbled across her face.
"You did what?" She snapped, her glares locked on the chip.
"I killed a Courser and cut it out of its-" Warren started to explain.
"And you brought it here?" She asked glaring daggers through him now. "Why in the world would you do that? The Institute will track you down for it."
"So, you do know something about it," Warren twirled it between his fingers. "I need a way to crack it's encryption. You're the only person I know that would be familiar with this tech."
"You can put it away, I will not have anything to do with it." Dr. Amari averted her eyes back to the terminal and dismissed it with a wave. "Institute technology is beyond my field of work anyway. There are people... Who may be able to assist you. Have you heard of the Railroad?"
"Huh, only rumors." Warren carefully wrapped the chip once more and placed it safely in his satchel. "I hear they rescue stray synths lost out in the wilds."
"Not far from the truth. You should find them if you need answers about the chip, Institute technology is their expertise. Go, follow the old Freedom Trail. Here I'll mark it on your map. You'll stumble across them if you continue on the the red brick path to it's end."
Warren placed his Pip-boy atop her desk. She quickly typed in the coordinates, it formed a transparent symbol on the digital grind.
"Now you need to go," Dr. Amari stated firmly as they locked eyes. "I never saw that thing. And if you were smart you'd throw it in the river when you leave... Good luck, Warren."
"Thanks, Doc, I owe you one down the line," Warren said over his shoulder already on his way out. He closed the door behind him and gave a soft sigh. "Another wild goose chase."
He started back down the stairs to the main hall. Warren ruminated over his next move as he equipped his power armor and made his exit. Out on the street Warren pulled up his map.
The Railroad was not the answer he was looking for. The group was little more than fanatics on the edges of wasteland society. Most denizens of the Commonwealth were keen to shoot a synth before helping it.
They were different. The Railroad sought to liberate an artificial people. Some saw it as a noble cause. Though most in the wastes thought them delusional.
Their interest in synthetic freedom included a knowledge of Institute technologies. After all, the pursuit of Institute technology had built the very foundation.
He pinpointed the location and set out for Good Neighbor's gate. If Dr. Amari considered them his best bet then it was worth a shot.
Warren set out into the wastes once more.
...
A long path, twisting through the heart of Boston, brick by red brick led to an ancient church. Its steeple was once the tallest point in the city, now ruined towers dwarfed its cracked peak. The only life within were crows roosting on the rafters.
Warren stood in the church's basement puzzling over a golden plaque on the brick wall before him. He had left the power armor in the center of the room. Four rotting feral ghoul corpses lay sprawled around it.
The church had been simple enough to find, yet now he found himself at a literal dead end. He placed a gloved hand on the weathered plaque and ran his fingers along the edges. The metal was finely inlaid into the brickwork.
Three circular layers of gold all inlaid within a concrete casing in the brickwork. A single cord ran from the plaque into the wall. Warren assumed it to be a kind of device, perhaps a door.
So, Warren felt around the edges for a weak point where he could get a grip. There was nothing on the outer edge to shift. So he moved to the second most ring, this had an inscription etched into its rim.
Ever so slightly the plaque rotated beneath his hands. Warren stepped back to gaze at the metal plate. A sudden realization hit him: He had to rotate the plaque to spell out a code word.
But what word would an underground freedom fighter organization use? Slowly he cycled through the inscription along the circular plaque's rim.
"Freedom?" He thought aloud as he rotated the piece. Then grumbled to himself, "Nah, way to obvious. Maybe... Liberty?"
Again he rotated the piece to spell out the word. Nothing happened once he completed the cycle. Warren glared at the contraption in frustration.
"Okay, let's try this one," He rotated the device once more, spelling out R-O-A-D. Again everything remained the same.
Warren sighed as he stared at the plaque in thought. Then an idea struck him. A dumb idea, but he had nothing to lose. He rotated the ring to spell out 'railroad'. For a moment it remained the same. He gave another defeated sigh and stepped back to pace.
The bulbs along the cord to the plaque simmered to life. Dull yellow lights flickered across the strand of cording, somewhere behind the wall several gears gave out strained groans as they began to move. A cloud of dust shook free from the brickwork as an entire panel of the brickwork sank back into the wall. It receded to the side, revealing the damp, dark room beyond.
"Well the password was fucking stupid..." Warren mumbled to himself, just loud enough to hear a slight echo from the secret room. He stepped inside, flipping his Pip-boy light on to illuminate the way. "Very secure, boys."
Crumbling brick pillars held up the earth ceiling above him. By the glow of his Pip-boy the General eased into the opening. He guided his light all across the room in search of another route deeper in the basement.
Another doorway rested on the opposite side of the room. Ever so slowly Warren crept through the darkness towards it. Carefully he swept his light before him searching for any traps.
Confident it was safe he eased over to the opposite door. It opened into a stairwell that tunneled down deeper beneath the ground. Warren pushed onwards down the stairs, through a dark tunnel that seemed to stretch on endlessly. He walked for several minutes through the darkness, only the full glow of his Pip-boy guiding him.
A blinding light filled the tunnel. It's white glare beamed down on Warren, forcing him to shield his eyes from the intense rays. Three silhouettes stood silent basking in the bright light.
"Stop right there," A woman's stern voice ordered. "You went through a lot of effort to arrange this meeting. Before we go any further, you're going to answer some questions."
"So you guys really do exist..." Warren said as his eyes adjusted to the flood lightning. Three people stood before him. Two armed men on either side of the woman who was speaking. "I'm here in peace! I'll answer whatever you need."
"Just who in the hell are you?" The woman demanded in an icy tone.
"General Warren Wright," Warren answered truthfully. "Of the Commonwealth Minutemen."
"Then how did you find our home, General?" The woman questioned. Distrust and suspicion laced her voice as she stared him down from the doorway. Her companions looked as if they had already made the decision to shoot.
"Dr. Amari sent me on a wild chase down the Freedom Trail. Honestly I didn't expect to actually find anyone. But looks like her info was good."
"Last question," the woman snapped. "Why did the doctor send you to find us?"
"I need a courser chip decoded."
"You have a courser chip?" The woman's tone shifted from suspicion to curiosity as she continued. "How did you manage to get a chip?"
"Looks like I'm late to the party," Came a man's voice from behind her. "You done harassing our courser killing friend here?"
"Friend? Deacon, do you know this guy?" The woman crossed her arms turning to face the newcomer. "Tell me about him then."
The man, Deacon, stepped out into the light. He was tall, with dark air, and walked with a swagger. His outfit would have been more at home on a pre-war greaser. Though the woman seemed to respect him despite this.
"You've been out of the loop too long, Des. Warren here has been the talk of the wastes for months now. The brilliant new General of the Minutemen uniting the Commonwealth under one flag. He put down the Institute's mad dog Kellogg by himself a few weeks ago. And has been carving a long, traceable trail through the Commonwealth ever since he stepped out of that icebox, vault 111. Our friend here is well known, and he just brought a courser chip to our doorstep. Let's cut the good cop, bad cop routine and hear him out."
"It isn't often Deacon gushes praises," the woman stared Warren down as Deacon rattled off his list. "If he has your approval then I won't object. We can decode it, we'll discuss the details inside. You'll be the first outsider we've let inside in years."
"I guess my reputation precedes me," Warren eyed this Deacon character. How did he know who killed Kellogg? Why would he vouch for a stranger? And Deacon seemed far to eager to assist. "I just need to decode my chip. If you can do that then lead the way."
The woman turned on her heels and started down the tunnel behind her. Deacon waved for Warren to follow as he joined her. The two guards relaxed, each taking a position beside the door. Warren felt their eyes follow him through.
"My name is Desdemona, leader of our organization," the woman said as they continued through the dark to a set of heavy double doors. "It takes a lot to lay down a Courser, that is mainly why you're being allowed in. Regardless, you've come to the right place if you want to hack it's chip."
She threw open the double doors to reveal a large, well lit chamber. Terminals, monitors, and machinery lined the walls with bundles of cords snaking between them. A massive circular table took up the center of the room. Across its surface was a holographic map of the entire Commonwealth.
"Welcome to our little family," Deacon slide pass Desdemona into the room with his arms spread wide. "Let's get right down to business. Show us the goods, killer."
"Agreed," Desdemona circled the table to face them. "I want to see the courser chip before we proceed."
Warren fished the red cloth from his satchel and carefully unwrapped it. He held the plastic chip between two fingers before them.
"Straight out of a synth's head," Warren said as he stared her down.
"Very impressive," Desdemona stared at the chip in open envy. "First, a ground rule. If my man decodes it then we get to keep the chip in exchange. You will receive a copy of any information on it."
"No," Warren closed the chip in his fist. "I killed that freak of nature and cut it out, the chip is mine."
"Then how do you plan to pay for our assistance?" She pressed him. Desdemona placed her hands on the table as she spoke. "We have far more to gain from the chip than you possibly could. Hundreds of lives are at cost. That chip could be the key to saving all of them."
"More to gain?" Warren snapped, his fingernails digging his palm as anger overtook him. He felt hatred dripping into his voice as he spoke. "The Institute killed my wife, kidnapped my child! Do you know how many people I've killed to get this chip? I don't give a shit how many synthetic lives it could save. I would use their corpses as a goddamn ladder if it brought me closer to Shawn."
"You should watch your tone, 'General'..." Desdemona warned, her hand lingering over her pistol. The commotion drew the attention of the surrounding Railroad members. Many dropped what they were doing and began filing in a circle around them. "You came here asking for our help. Help isn't free in the wastes, and what you have Is bigger then all of us."
"Let's not piss off the Courser killer!" Deacon cut into the conversation with a friendly quip. A wide, accepting smile plastered his face but behind his sunglasses cold eyes were glued to Warren. "I'm positive we can come to an understanding. He killed a Courser Desdemona, we can't afford to drive a wedge between us and an asset like that over a minor setback. Whatever information we can get from the chip will be useful. We get a copy of that. Deal?"
"That's more reasonable then trying to snag my chip," Warren grunted as he shifted his attention to Deacon. "I would agree to that."
""Deacon is correct, you are a valuable asset to have in our arsenal," Desdemona sighed as she relented. "You can consider the decryption a favor. My lead engineer, Tom, can decode the chip."
Desdemona pushed off the table, the small crowd split as she passed through. Deacon nodded for Warren to follow, so he did. Deacon fell in step beside him.
The crowd slowly dispersed as the trio slipped into a quaint side room. Six terminals were scattered across an array of three desks. A lone man with an apparatus stop his head sit in an office chair rolling between each keyboard. He did not even bother to glance up the intruders, his eyes glued to the various screens.
"We have a job for you, Tom." Desdemona placed a hand on the back of his chair. The man almost jumped out of his skin at the sudden interruption. Though he sobered up once he recognized who was bothering him.
"A new guy, eh? Ain't seen one them in a long time," Tom jutted out a gloved hand to Warren. "Name's Tom, everyone calls me Tinker Tom though."
"Good to meet you, Tom," Warren took the man's hand in agreement. Then he held the chip up to show Tom. "Desdemona told me you could decode a Courser chip."
"Hot damn! How the hell did you find that?" Tom stared at it in awe. Warren offered the small plastic bit to him. He carefully plucked the chip from Warren's hand and held it before his eyes. "Right out of the damn brain. That's pretty sick, man. But I can break it for you."
Tom slotted the chip into the closest terminal. He rapidly clacked away at the keyboard as a series of green characters and numbers lined the screen.
"This is gonna take a while," Tom whistled as he cycled through the coding. "The program will handle the heavy stuff. So, maybe two hours. Depends on the encryption, a courser gonna be packing a lotta firewalls."
"It would be real nice if we could speed that process up, Tom." Warren said scanning the code over the man's shoulder as he typed away. Tinker Tom gave him no reply, instead he had zoned out now glued to the screen.
"He'll be stuck like that the whole time," Deacon joked from behind them. "Listen killer, we need to talk favors. Maybe we should take a walk and let Tom do his thing."
"No," Warren stated firmly. "I'll stay near my chip. We can discuss it here."
"Alright, alright, alright," Deacon held up his hands in defeat. "We just need a favor for a favor. We scratched your back, now you scratch ours, ya dig?"
"He means we need you to deliver a message to our contact inside the Institute," Desdemona cut in. She leaned against the desk staring down at the screens. "You have a courser chip. You found us to break its encryption. It's obvious you're trying to find a way in."
Green lines of numbers scrolled across a black background on the terminal. Tom's typing filled the void of her silence. Finally Desdemona gave a sigh and looked Warren in the eyes.
"By acquiring that chip you have made it closer to the inside of the Institute than the Railroad ever has. The chip itself is an example of your motivation. If you can get inside all we ask is that you pass on a message to our contact."
"Who even is this contact?" Warren questioned. "What do they look like?"
"Ha! That's the thing, man, we don't know." Deacon said. "We don't have a gender, appearance, name, or profile. Only goes by Patriot 'cause we named him that."
"Patriot is... an enigma. It was only a few years ago that we began receiving their signals. Their information has freed dozens of synths in that time, but if we could contact Patriot ourselves then we could organize a mass liberation of synthkind." Desdemona elaborated. "Therefore, we've come up with a solution to the Patriot problem: Tom will give you a holotape that can send an encrypted message to our target through the Institute's internal network. Once you've activated the tape the message will go directly to Patriot."
"Sounds real convoluted," Warren stated bluntly as he looked from one to the other. The plan didn't seem very well thought out from his perspective. "Too many loose ends. Who's to say the Institute's systems won't immediately recognize outside software? Or lock it all down in response?"
"My holotape is designed with Institute tech, man, ain't gotta worry about recognition," Tom stated, never taking his eyes off the cycling lines of code. "It's a simple encryption that'll fly right under the radar directly to the Patriot's signal source."
"Then your job is done, killer." Deacon snapped his fingers. "Just a simple delivery for a decryption, won't find a better deal anywhere else in the Commonwealth."
"I'll slot the holotape when I'm inside," Warren relented, he knew he was indebted to them. This would make them even. "I suppose I owe you guys."
"Thank you, General, your contribution will save many lives in time," Desdemona said as she offered Warren her hand in agreement. He took it in a firm handshake. "You will be doing the Railroad a great help, we will not forget this. Once you return I will gladly bestow honorary membership on you for your efforts."
"That's very flattering," Warren lied through his teeth. He had no true intentions of joining, regardless of their help with the chip. He would pass their message on if it was not to risky, other than that he did not consider them allies.
For nearly two hours the four of them conversed in the room. The conversation began with Desdemona outlining the Railroad's background laid out leader-by-leader until she arrived to herself. Deacon took over the sway of the discussion from there. He spun all three of them wild tales about his time trekking through the wastes. For a while Warren almost forgot his distrust as they sit and talked like old friends.
"Annnnnd... She's done!" Tom slapped the desk hard enough to rattle all three terminals. The strings of code had faded away leaving blank terminals. Their screens were all black squares now with a single green ellipsis in each corner.
Tom plopped the chip out of the terminal to his left. He held it before his eyes with two fingers to admire it one last time. Finally, he tossed it to Warren.
Warren snagged it mid-air. He quickly pocketed the chip and offered Tom his thanks.
"You just get my pet project into the Institute network, man," Tom plucked a holotape from a drawer beneath the desk. He handed it over to Warren. "That's all the thanks I need."
"Consider it done," Warren took the tape and slide it in his satchel. "It's time I make my exit. I got an appointment I can't afford to miss."
Warren bid his farewell to the trio as he left out the way he had come in. The brick wall sealed behind him with a mechanical groan as he stepped back into the church's basement. His power armor stood stoic in the center of the room.
He stepped past it, up the stairs, and into the church's main hall. Empty, rotten pews lined each side of a worn carpet. At the end of it rested an old podium, busted stained glass windows stood tall behind it. The moon's light filtered through to illuminate the room.
Warren walked down the aisle and up to the podium. Under the moonlight he saw a charred bible lay open atop the podium.
He pushed open the door, it's squeak echoed through the building. Inside was a quant room filled by a rickety spiral staircase that lined the walls up to the ceiling.
Just as he had hoped. This was the entrance to the steeple. A trapdoor at the top should lead up into its ancient bell tower. It would make the perfect spot to test out the transmitter the Wanderer had given him.
Step by step Warren climbed up until he arrived at the platform at the top. A small doorway was fitted into the wooden ceiling. It crossed his mind that the old wood may not hold his weight.
'It's stood firm this long' Warren inhaled as he yanked the trapdoor open.
A storm of cawing and shrieking thundered in his ears. Black feathers rained down through the doorway. Dozens of crows took flight at once at the door's lazy creak. The flock of black birds scattered in the wind.
Warren ducked back into the church as the commotion flared up. He confirmed the birds were go e with a cautious peep into the doorway.
"Stupid birds," Warren grumbled to himself as he crawled up into the steeple's bell house. Bird droppings littered the floor, cracked bell, and rails in a thick white layer. "At least they're not mutants," he pulled his backpack around on one arm to rummage through it. He pulled out the lunchbox like transmitter and sat it on the nearby railing.
"Let's see if this thing works," he popped the locks on the front to reveal various nobs, a number pad and keyboard. A tiny, credit card size screen rested on the lid's inside. He prompted a small radio antenna on its side.
"L.W.
I have valuable intel on the Institute.
In one week from today,
Meet me at the Dugout Inn, Diamond City.
- W.W."
Warren spoke the message as he typed it out. Satisfied, he hit the enter key and sent the message off into the ether.
All he had left now was the trek back to Virgil for the interceptor schematics. Warren packed up the transmitter and stuffed it back in his backpack. He turned around to stare into beady black eyes.
A crow sit on the cracked bell. It tilted its head curiously as it analyzed Warren. He gave it a shooing motion as he slid past the bell to the trapdoor. Ignoring the bird's inky gaze Warren shimmied back down into the interior.
As he pulled the door too, Warren caught one last glimpse of the crow. It gave a lonely parting caw as the door sealed, separating them. Warren took the stairs two at a time back down the tower, then to the basement to his armor. He engaged the power armor and marched out into the cool night.
Warren set the coordinates to Virgil's hideaway on his map. He left down the main street. The lone crow cawed once more at the low hanging, silver moon. It took flight into an indigo sky, flying high over the desolate cityscape.
...One Week Later...
The Dugout Inn was packed with travelers looking for beds and booze. Most of them were clustered around the bar drinking their fill. The rest were spread out among the tables minding their own business.
An old radio played away at the end of the bar. It hummed a saxophone solo across the smokey barroom. A young woman's voice flowed from its speakers, her cadence fast and jazzy. Cigar smoke filled the air and laughter was abundant here.
Warren scanned the bar for one specific man. He spotted him tucked away in the back of the lobby. The Lone Wanderer sit at a corner table off in the back with a clear view of the exit. Warren recognized the worn duster and tired face from their last encounter.
The Wanderer sipped away at a Nuka Cola, his eyes scanning the patrons. Their eyes locked momentarily and the Wanderer motioned for him to come over.
Warren slipped past the barmaid and made his way to the table.
"Nice town you got here," Levi joked with a straight face as Warren grabbed a chair. "Everyone I've spoke to is on edge bout synths."
"Right," Warren dismissed it, they had business to discuss. "I found that scientist we spoke about. Turned out to be a bigger clue then I imagined."
"Straight to the point," Levi perked up at that. He leaned forward intently and questioned "How so?"
"He gave me the Institute's location. They're sealed away in a vault-like structure under the old C.I.T ruins. Literally right under the Institute of Technologies building!"
"That's so stupid it might just be genius. Though it would explain their access to such advanced technology." Levi stated as he stroked his beard. He paused in thought. "If it's sealed then how are they deploying synths to the surface?"
"Teleportation."
"You can't be serious."
"I am." Warren stated flatly. "They call it a molecular relay. I don't know the specifics, but it's teleportation. Virgil claims it deconstructs and reconstructs you from one place to another instantly."
"I can buy the location," Levi stated as he spread his hands over the table in disbelief. "But I'm going to need evidence for the teleportation claims. And Virgil? Who's that? Why is his word good?"
"I know it sounds ridiculous, but it's the truth." Warren slipped the bloody cloth from his pouch. He carefully unwrapped it and held the stained chip before him. "This is a courser chip, it links up to their network allowing teleportation back to their relay. Virgil is my Institute contact, the rogue scientist. I trust his word, he has a lot riding on me going in."
"Okay, what's his angle on this then?" Levi questioned as he eyed the small, dome shaped chip. "Do you even know how we can use that chip?"
"I do," Warren cradled it between his fingers as he spoke. "That's enough free information. Now we're going to renegotiate the Minutemen's deal with the Brotherhood. This chip is the key to getting inside the Institute's vault."
Warren pulled the interceptor schematics from his backpack. He spread it out before them on the table. Then placed the chip in the center of the plans. Levi's eyebrows raised as his blue eyes carefully scanned over it. Intrigue danced behind his poker face.
"These are the schematics for a Relay Interceptor, with the chip installed it links directly back to the main relay." Warren smirked as he slid the schematics and chip back onto his side of the table. "Virgil's 'angle' is that he needs an antidote for a nasty condition he's contracted. Only one in existence might be stored inside the Institute. His Intel will be solid if he intends to live"
"What do you want for the chip and plans?" Levi crossed his arms on the table and relaxed back into his seat. He knew it would not be a cheap exchange.
"First, I want to speak to Maxson face to face. Second, I'll be the first one to test the interceptor." Warren cracked his knuckles as he prepared to deliver his demands. "As for the material cost for my product? I want arms, armor, and ammunition, my friend. More specifically combat armor, R89 assault rifles, N99 10 mm pistols, stimpacks, med-x, and 600 rounds per gun."
"Wasteland diplomacy will do Maxson some good," Levi snorted at that. He eyed the document and chip. "Fine, I'll let them know we're coming. You want to be the first? Be my guest, who's to say it won't kill you and just clone another you on the other side? Or maybe rip you to shreds at the molecular level. Lots of ifs and ands involved." Levi gave an exaggerated shiver at the thought. "You can run your price by Maxson yourself for something like this he may just play ball."
"Excellent," Warren stated as he packed the schematics and chip into his backpack. "Let's go, the sooner we get started the closer I am to finding my son."
"Then we're heading to the airport," Levi said as he stood. "My bird is just outside the city-limits."
"Sounds like a plan," Warren said standing up as well. They slipped through the crowd for the door. Together the two men stepped out into the open night. A cool breeze filled the air.
A handsome patron at the bar excused himself from the redhead woman he was entertaining. As the door swung close behind the pair the man followed them through. He fetched the baseball bat he'd stashed behind the trash can out front. The man glared daggers through Warren's back as he started towards him.
"Its about a twenty minute walk back," Levi explained as they stopped at the alleyway out front to get their bearings. "Do you need anything before we head out?"
"I'm ready, got everything I need." Warren said glancing around at the lingering patrons. The cheering of three teenagers playing dice up the alley filled the air. A couple sit gossiping on the dugout's steps off behind them. Two guys helped their drunken friend down the street.
"Whoa, what the f-" Warren began in a stern tone as he spotted a sulking man approaching them just pass the trio. An angry scour muddied his face, he was lugging a wooden slugger over his shoulder. Warren's hand drifted down to his holster. The stranger was already to close.
Warren threw his arms up catching the blunt of the blow. Though it wasn't enough. The bat splintered in half across the side of Warren's helmet. He fell to his knees as his vision blurred in throbbing pain. A searing pain split through his head at the impact.
The loud CRACK of a snapped bat drew out the nosey bar patrons. Everyone in Diamond City knew a snapped slugger meant a dead man. Others up the alley pooled around the commotion as well. A small crowd was quickly forming a wide circle around the fight.
Levi pounced the attacker before he could take a second swing. In a daze of pain Warren watched blurs wrestle on the ground. His hand numbly grasped for the revolver at his waist. Warren gritted his teeth in determination as he attempted to climb to his feet. A blurry figure rushed forward from a spinning cityscape. Its war cry piercing through the fading ring in his ears.
Another man burst from the gathering crowd of bar patrons with a mad scream. He slammed into Warren like a truck, throwing them both to the ground. The stranger threw several wild punches, Warren felt each blow quake through his helmet. Each impact sent searing pain rippling through his skull as they rattled his helmet.
Warren threw several haymakers with his left hand in a blind rage. His right hand grasped the cold wooden grip of the revolver. The attacker tugged and yanked at his helmet like a mad man. Warren lurched for the man's throat with one hand as he yanked at his gun with the other.
They struggled together, rolling across the ground as Warren fought for his gun. His helmet had sagged loose, leaving his jaw exposed. The man clocked him hard across the face, Warren felt the darkness creep into his peripheral vision.
He jerked his right hand up to feel the barrel dig into the man's chest. He barely felt the revolver's recoil as he squeezed the trigger.
The revolver thundered like a cannon as it fired. The man atop him lurched backwards as the round pierced through his chest. Blood blossomed all around the wound as if a blooming rose. It flowed a dull crimson down his checkered vest.
Shrieks and screams erupted around them as people rushed for cover. Even in his dazed state Warren realized the shot hadn't killed the attacker.
The stranger spasmed atop Warren from the sudden impact, yet the man snapped back upright. With blood pouring from his chest wound the man persisted throwing punches at Warren face.
The moment's pause was enough for Warren to line up his second shot. The round entered under the man's chin and took the top of his head off. He went limp immediately and collapsed onto the dirt, viscera and colorful plastic bits and wires jutting from his scalp.
Warren heaved the corpse off him and scrambled to his feet. He struggled to unfasten his helmet as the world blurred in and out around him. He finally yanked it free and threw it to the ground. Cradling his aching head Warren turned his revolver on Levi and the first attacker.
Levi had the man pinned beneath him forcing the bat down on his throat with both hands. Though the man viciously struggled beneath him. He kicked and clawed at the Wanderer like a rabid animal.
Warren walked over to them, leveled the revolver over Levi's shoulder, and fired a round through the man's skull. It splattered the ground a deep red beneath him.
Levi leapt off the man a moment before the shot. He stumbled back then straightened up, a finger swirling in his ringing ears.
"Synths," Warren said as he jutted the barrel at the other man's ragged head. "If there's two, then there's definitely more. They must be after the chip."
"You can explain that to the guards," Levi dusted himself off. He started off into the night. "I'm going back to my bird before things get out of hand."
"I'm saying they're obviously watching us, or at least me." Warren stressed as he raced to catch up with him. "Traveling through the city ruins with someone on our ass is a risky venture."
"Even more reason for us to book it out of here," Levi asserted as they jogged down the alleyways. "We should avoid the guards. Lot of people saw us, may be a problem."
"Anyway you could bring the vertibird closer?," Warren questioned as they weaved through the backstreet. "Hangman's Alley is right outside the city. It's a Minutemen outpost, it's right off the riverbank. Opens up into an empty lot that should be big enough for a landing."
"Yeah, that's possible. We need to get there first, inform your men about the bird dropping by," Levi stated as he spied the market area up ahead. He slowed down to a steady walk as they neared the well lit town center. "You lead the way."
Warren took the lead as they came out into the marketplace, a few people lingered at the central noodle shop. Its protectron shop kept rambling in Japanese as it busied itself at the grill. Four guards rounded the corner in haste, each of them carrying assault rifles.
"Clear the way! D.C. Security business!" The group rushed pass them without a second glance. Warren and Levi stepped to the side letting them dash pass.
"Perfect, we're just two faces in the crowd," Warren said as they started up the main stairs. "We should be fine outside the gates if they haven't even made it back there yet."
"Yeah, just keep it cool," Levi stressed as they approached the gates of Diamond City. The guard on duty stood smoking a cigarette and huddling up in his jacket from the breeze.
He paid the two travelers little heed as they passed through.
Gunfire sputtered somewhere off in the urban jungle just beyond the city gate. Guards manned their posts, or huddled near barrel fires talking in hush tones. A yellow moon barely illuminated the streets behind its cloudy curtain.
It didn't matter though, Warren knew his way to Hangman's Alley like the back of his hand. He took the lead guiding the two of them down the main street. With the bridge visible down the road Warren ducked into a nearby alleyway.
They twisted between crumbling ruins until finally emerging into another main street. Up the road Levi could see the walls of Diamond City looming over the destruction. Just across the street was another alley mouth.
An old rundown truck was crashed outside of makeshift wooden walls. A turrent swiveled back and forth on it's bed. Two guards stood against the doorway just beyond it sharing a cigarette between them. A spotlight scanned the street before them from a platform just behind the wall.
"Hangman's Alley, used to be an old raider hang out til I cleaned up," Warren explained as he started towards the two Minuten guardsman. "McCready helped build it up as a mercenary exchange. Now we get freelancers from all across the Commonwealth through here."
"Impressive," Levi said, though he didn't sound impressed. "I'll radio the pilot and have him fly it in."
Levi gave a quick command over his commlink, glanced at his Pip-boy and read off coordinates. He went quiet as they neared the guards.
"All mercs and traders gotta sign the registry before coming in, if you're anything else keep moving." The guard stood tall as the strange men approached. He readied his laser musket for any trouble.
"Holy hell..." His partner, a grisled older man darkened by years of exposure, grumbled around his cigarette. "It's General Wright, rookie, at ease!"
"Good to see you, Smitty" Warren stated as he took the old merc veteran's hand. Warren stepped back and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Gentlemen, we have a situation. We may be being followed. Don't allow anyone else in after us. We're locking down the Alley."
The younger guard held the door open with a charming grin as he waved the General through.
"Understood, General. Nobody else is getting in," He confirmed as they walked pass him into the quaint outpost. "Lock the gate! General's orders!"
Half a dozen Minutemen sat around a small gatehouse just beyond the main door. Hearing the word 'General' snagged their attention. Many of them recognized the man standing on the steps. They had fought side by side with Warren against the Gunners.
Warren waved to them as he walked down the steps. Behind him three clanks rang out as the door was bolted shut. The men began talking amongst themselves drawing more attention to the small gathering.
Just beyond the gateway was a cramped market district flooded with mercenaries and traders looking to make a buck. They paid little attention to the Minutemen gathering up front. Their only focus was on money changing hands.
"I see you men are well," Warren addressed them. "The Alleyway will be under lock and key until I leave. In about ten minutes a Brotherhood vertibird is going to land outside, it's here for me. So, keep your weapons off of it. Now back to business as usual!"
Warren pushed through them and urged Levi to follow. He made a beeline for the old airstream camper lodged in the back of the alleyway. It served as the Minutemen's main office in the Alley. It would have a H.A.M radio setup to the other Minutemen posts.
"Bird is en route, ETA is six minutes," Levi confirmed as he followed Warren through the crowd.
Mercenaries filled the central market area that doubled as the alleyway's bar. Dozens of conversations carried on around them at once. Traders haggled over goods with their customers. And mercs gossiped about their recent achievements.
Warren opened the door, allowed Levi to pass inside, then shut the camper door behind them. A makeshift desk took up the entirety of one wall. Terminals, H.A.M radios, and electronics littered its surface. Crates of wires and spare parts littered the front of the trailer, and a bed was stuffed in the back.
A pair of Minutemen technicians worked the radios. Warren gave them a quick greeting as he slipped pass to one of the free H.A.M radios. He put the headphones on then began dialing the nobs looking for Slogtown's frequency through the static.
"It's General Wright," Warren clarified into the microphone as he dialed into the correct channel. "Put Preston on the line."
Minutes ticked by as someone shuffled around on the other end. There was a quick conversation then a pause.
"I'm here, General." Finally, Preston's tired voice came through the radio. "I have a status report for you. We're dealing with a situation here. Gunners have been taking potshots across the river all night, they're up to something in that junkyard. And we got a runner from Finch farms, he told me that the super mutants have been scouting out that side of the factory."
"I'm working on solutions with the Brotherhood as we speak, Preston. If things go my way I'll be there with supplies in a day," Warren explained as he mulled over the situation. "Have McCready bring his men off the roads to reinforce you until I can arrive."
"Bringing in McCready's men will spread our forces thin if we try to man all three settlements. And Creek will not be happy if we leave the roads unprotected," Preston warned in an even tone. "But we'll hold out. How are negotiations with the Brotherhood?"
"Weapons, ammo, and medicine. I'm on my way to speak to Elder Maxson now, he's the head of the Brotherhood's fleet," Warren stated as he glanced over his shoulder at Levi scanning the skyline through a window behind him. "I found Virgil a week ago. He gave me leverage to use in the negotiation. I'll get what we need and meet with you in day. Just keep Sheriff Creek calm and the Gunners on the other side of the river. I'm counting on you and McCready to hold it together."
"Just don't make any new enemies, General" Preston issued a stern warning. "But I understand. We'll keep the Gunners and mutants at bay until you get here."
"Bird is circling over now," Levi called from his place by the window. Blue eyes following the vertibird overhead until it disappeared behind the ruined towers. "Let's wrap this up, we got a flight to catch."
"That's all I needed to hear, Preston. I'll be there soon with supplies, see you then." Warren hastily wrapped up his conversation. Preston responded in kind before Warren took off the headset. He pushed away from the radio and stood. "Let's go then, I don't want to keep your elder waiting."
The two men exited back out into the alley. Warren took the lead once more as he led them around the back of the camper trailer to a wooden stairwell. Just up the stairs was a platform over the camper's roof and another doorway leading out of the alley.
The buzz of the vertibird was deafening as it came down to land just beyond the door. Dozens of Minutemen, mercs, and traders gawked at the flying machine as they briefly spotted it in the skies between the buildings. The roar of it's engines echoed through the city streets.
Warren threw open the door, the gusts from the blades yanked it from his hand. He held up an arm over his face as he cautiously advanced toward the vertibird.
Levi stepped pass him waving a greeting to the pilot. He hauled himself up into the bay area and reached a hand out to Warren. The General took it and allowed himself to be heaved inside.
"Put these on!" Levi shouted over the engine as he fastened a headset over his ears. He gestured for Warren to do the same with the headset above his seat.
"Another waster, Paladin?" Came the pilot's voice through a crackle of static.
"General Wright of the Minutemen," Levi corrected the pilot. "Take us back to the Predwyn, He wants to talk to Maxson directly."
"That's a security risk, Paladin..." The pilot stated firmly. "You know heads will roll over it."
"I'll make sure it's mine," Levi said as he relaxed back into the seat. The cargo doors sealed behind them. "We have vital information for Maxson's ears only. Let's get in the air, lancer. That's an order."
"Yes, sir..." The pilot said, sounding unsure of himself. Regardless, he followed orders and took flight. The vertibird jolted as it lifted into the air high above the cityscape.
"ETA to Prydwen is 60 minutes." The pilot confirmed over the radio. After the initial lift the ride quickly smoothed out. Warren relaxed back in the seat then adjusted his headset.
"Tell me about Elder Maxson," Warren said to Levi from across the vertibird. "It must take a unique individual to run the Brotherhood."
"Where do I start?" Levi questioned more to himself then to Warren. He paused for a long moment in thought as he stared out the window at the wastes below. "Maxson is a good man and a shrewd leader. But he wields a hammer with the Brotherhood at his back. And when a man like Maxson has a hammer then every problem he faces is a nail."
