After changing, Mason checked the time on his Pip-Boy and realized it was time to leave. After putting his armor on, he held his helmet in one hand; bag slung onto a shoulder for the time being. Taking a deep breath, he left the building and went to find Garvey and Heather. Walking out, he found Dogmeat lying next to the door.
"How you doin', buddy," Mason grinned as he rubbed Dogmeat's belly. Looking at Mason with his eyes, tongue sticking out of his mouth, made Mason chuckle before standing. "Come on. Let's go get Preston and Heather."
Opening the door quietly as he stepped into the other bunkhouse, Mason found Preston sleeping near the door. Waking him up, Mason had him grab his and Heather's bags and go to Drumlin Diner with Dogmeat to order some food. When he found Heather, she was in a bunk near the back. Putting his helmet away, he took the blanket strapped to the bottom of his bag before wrapping Heather in it. Walking to the rear gate, Alice saw Mason and smirked.
"Why's it look like your bride's asleep," Alice remarked, making Mason sigh.
"I'm not dumb enough to wake a woman from her sleep. I can be stupid, not suicidal."
"So when will you be back? I'll make sure we have plenty of food for you."
"About a week or so, give or take. We'll be exploring a new area of the Commonwealth, so it'll take a while."
"Stay safe. Don't let any ferals get you."
"I've got Heather here to help with any wounds if I do," Mason stated. "I'll see you around."
As Mason walked out the gate, Alice closed it behind him, and he walked to the diner. Walking in, he saw Preston sitting in a booth near the back and sat opposite of him, setting Heather down beside him.
After I walked out the gate, Alice closed it behind me, and I walked to the diner. It was a ten-minute walk from Starlight, so it didn't affect the schedule. When I walked into the diner, I saw Preston sitting in one of the booths near the back and went and sat opposite to him, setting Heather down beside me.
"Fair warning, Garvey. Never wake a woman from her sleep," Mason warned, noting Garvey looking at him weirdly.
"Uh, General, why not?" Garvey questioned.
"Simple. They're scary when they don't have enough sleep," Mason said, shaking at the thought. It was scary enough when Nora didn't get enough sleep. He doesn't want to know what Heather's like when she doesn't. "So, what did you order?"
"Noodle cups and molerat chunks, sir. I figured you could have the cups since, according to Codsworth, you have a taste for them."
"Well you are right about that," Mason grinned. "I grew up on those. Parents would come home late some days, so my siblings and I would eat noodles."
"Sometimes I find it hard to believe you're from before the war. Then you talk about stuff like this," Garvey replied.
"Well sometimes I find it hard to believe this is the world we live in," Mason remarked, thinking back to high school when he thought the world was perfect and nothing could go wrong. How wrong he was. "Hey, Garvey. What are we going to do once our operation gets bigger?"
"Pardon?"
"Right now, the Minutemen are still a small operation. Small enough where I can go help every settlement. What are we going to do once we get bigger? Will I still be the one going to help every settlement? Or will we have people that actually go help others?" Mason questioned. It was something that had been bothering him for a while. He had told Mason how a group had gone to Quincy to help others, but not how big it was. Just the number of settlers and Minutemen in all. Garvey had a look of thought on his face, his eyes staring off, not focused before he responded.
"I suppose it's up to you to decide how to structure the Minutemen now," Garvey replied. "As the General, you've got to be able to exercise control over how you command the Minutemen. I never got high enough to know how it worked."
"In that case, you'll be my Lieutenant once we get big enough," Mason said as he reached across the table and patted his shoulder. "At that point, you'll be the one that's been with me the longest, so you'll be the second-highest rank."
"I don't know what to say, General," Garvey replied.
"Think nothing of it. And can you drop the General title? We're friends, no need to be so formal. Now, I've noticed you've had something to talk about for a while. What do you want to share before Heather wakes up?" Mason questioned with a grin.
Taking a deep breath, Garvey released it before beginning. "When we first met, I admit, I had my doubts about you. But you've done nothing but impress me. You're just who the Minutemen needed to bring us back from the brink."
"Thanks. That means a lot coming from you, Preston."
"When I was a kid, the Minutemen were my heroes. They were the only good guys around, really. When I turned seventeen, I joined up with Ezra Hollis' company. He was one of the good ones. Really believed in the old-time Minutemen way." Garvey took a deep breath before continuing. "We had a few good years there. I felt like I was part of something bigger than me. Like I was really helping make the Commonwealth a better place."
"Based on what you're saying, it sounds like you were really making a difference."
"I think we were. I know we were. But obviously... it didn't last. I'm sure there was a lot I didn't see, or know enough to pay attention to. You know, the politics and rivalries and bad blood between the different groups. I guess General Becker was able to keep a lid on it. Keep everyone more or less on the same team. But after he was killed, it all came out in the open." Makes sense. Good people in power can generally keep people's rivalries suppressed to a point. "I couldn't believe it at first. These guys were supposed to be the Minutemen. They were supposed to put their duty to the people ahead of everything else. You probably think I was pretty naive, huh? I guess I was. Still am, too, even after everything. I still believe the Minutemen can be what I always thought they were. The good guys."
Looking at him, Mason wondered how he had a black and white view of this world. "There aren't any good guys, Preston. There are people on your side, and people who aren't."
"I judge people by their actions. And you are one of the good guys, like it or not. Anyway, I appreciate you taking the time to listen."
"We don't have to hug now, do we?"
"Nah, I'm not really a hugger. We'd probably better get back to it."
Eating as they talked, Heather woke up fifteen minutes later. After Mason attached the blanket back to his bag and made sure Heather ate, they grabbed their things and left, heading toward Graygarden. After walking for about three hours, they came to a junkyard, one Mason recognized. Marking the place on his Pip-Boy, Mason pulled out his pistol, shooting molerats in the head and body as they popped up. Collecting the meat and some ammo, Mason found a mini-nuke in the shed, making him chuckle. Didn't really expect to find one here, but it was in good condition nonetheless. Walking back out to the road, they continued walking until Heather mentioned a military frequency, which was odd since the nearest military base was miles away. Tuning in to the frequency, AF95, he listened.
"Automated message repeating... This is Scribe Haylen of Reconnaissance Squad Gladius to any unit in transmission range. Authorization Arx. Ferrum. Nine. Five. Our unit has sustained casualties and we're running low on supplies. We're requesting support or evac from our position at Cambridge Police Station. Automated message repeating…"
Putain de merde! Cambridge Police Station? Last Mason checked, they didn't have any distress signals or anything like that before the bombs fell. Turning off the transmission, Mason started to think.
"What's going on Mason?" Heather questioned.
"Huh?"
"You're tapping your fingers together. You normally do that when you're thinking. What are you thinking about?"
"It's the radio frequency." Mason replied before turning to Garvey. "Listen, we're going to see what the people at Graygarden need, then heading to Cambridge to see what the frequency coming from the police station is about. There may be people there, there may not. But we're going there just in case."
"Of course, Mason," Preston replied. Him saying Mason's name like that felt nice. Like they were making some progress.
"Alright. Graygarden is just ahead. Let's go see what they need, then get going." Walking to the place, they were surprised to see nothing but Mr. Handies and a Miss Nanny. Approaching one that looked better than the others, the Miss Nanny that was white, turned to Mason.
"Welcome to Graygarden, darling! This is the Commonwealth's first and only hydroponics facility run entirely by robots," the Miss Nanny greeted.
"This place seems familiar. I think I saw a bit about it on the news, back before the war," Mason answered, remembering hearing about this with Nora.
"It is hard to imagine how this has survived for so long," Preston broke in.
"Yes, construction was completed mere days before the war. We were able to survive and continue our observations only because our creators made us truly self-sufficient. You see, there are two types of workers here. The worker drones carry out labor and maintenance. We supervisors-that is myself, Greene, and Brown-possess sophisticated cognition processors. We are capable of complex analysis and decision making, a testament to the genius of our creator, Doctor Edward Gray," the Miss Nanny explained.
"I remember him. He was one of RobCo's senior engineers, but more than a little eccentric," Mason noted.
"That's the second time you've said that you remember something before the war. I think you're a little confused, darling. You simply can't have been alive back then." False, he was. "Robotics and artificial intelligence were our creator's great passions, rivaled only by his love of television. You'll notice I possess a rather singular personality, as do the other supervisors."
"This took a weird turn," Preston replied.
"Why did Dr. Gray give you these unusual personalities?"
"Genius is restless, darling. It abhors stagnation. Doctor Gray was tired of the standard Mister Handy personality. He looked to his favorite television characters for inspiration, and we are the result." She then paused before continuing. "A few other things you should know… talk to Greene if you need supplies. If it's caps you require, Brown might have a few odd jobs. Ah, there's another thing. A question really. Tell me darling, what do you think of the water around here?"
Mason wouldn't drink it until purified, but that wasn't the point. "I'm with the Minutemen. Did you need help with something?"
"Why… yes. That's what I was getting at, dear. The water-it's simply ghastly! Pressure is down. Radiation is up. Why, it's practically toxic. Just think what it must be doing to my skin!" Nothing. She's a machine that doesn't have skin. "This will never do. If you Minutemen lend us a hand, I'll be eternally grateful."
"I'll see what I can do, but I can't promise anything."
"Most of our water comes from the old Weston plant, south of here. Such an eyesore. Be a dear and pay a visit, hmm? See what you can do? Maybe tidy up the place? It must be filthy. If you can get it working again, I'm sure I can… come up with something for you."
When they finished talking, Mason turned to Preston and Heather.
"You guys ready?
"Of course, General." He is probably being formal because they're in front of these robots.
"Ready."
Petting Dogmeat on his head, Mason said, "Are you ready, boy?"
He panted in response before licking his face.
"I'll take that as a yes. Let's go."
Putting on his helmet, they began walking to the police station when they got to the outskirts of Cambridge. Pulling Dogmeat from a mine, Mason almost lost his leg in the process, though he could live with that. They heard more gunfire walking into the city, and Mason had to disable two more mines. Eliminating ferals as they moved towards the police station, Mason was surprised to find someone using Power Armor, surprised at how effective he was using it. He didn't know how people still knew how to operate them, but that didn't matter at the moment. Climbing onto the trailer of a trucker, Mason pulled the others up before pulling out his rifle and began firing.
"Come on you ugly pieces of crap," Mason yelled, shooting them in the head when they tried to climb the trailer. "Show us what you've got!" Every shot marked the death of another one, their heads getting blown off with each shot. And if it wasn't blown off, there was a bullet in the skull. When he heard the click of his rifle, Mason put it away before pulling out his knife. "I guess it's time for some fun," Mason said, and before Preston or Heather could protest, he jumped off the side, rolling to avoid breaking his legs.
A feral charged, and when it tried to claw at him, Mason blocked the arm, dropped the knife to his free hand, then thrust forward, planting the blade into the thing's head. Another came at him from behind, making Mason pull the body of the previous feral to the ground as he bent down, kicking back. The feral tried to bite Mason before he grabbed it by its neck, then stabbed it in the head.
"Come on!" Mason yelled, catching the hordes' attention. "Is that the best you can do?" They began to stampede towards Mason, away from the people at the door, making him smile.
"Hey lady," Mason yelled as he grabbed the nearest ghoul by the throat before stabbing it in the head, then kicked one that tried to attack him from behind. "Heal your friend there while I kill these vags with hemorrhoids!"
When the lady looked at Mason, Mason smiled before rolling back, getting into a stance for a fight. Right as they were about to get on top of Mason, he stomped one foot in front of the other before kicking one in the chest, sending it flying back into the bodies of the others, knocking them all back. Grabbing the Nuka-Grenade he had, he kissed it, then tossed it into the pile of ferals after pulling the pin. Ducking behind the walls, Mason heard satisfying grunts coming from them. Well, painful for them, satisfying for Mason.
Walking in the compound towards the soldiers, Mason notices they've put their guns away, along with Heather and Preston, when a feral attacks him from behind. Before anyone can react, Mason flips it off his back and grabs it by the head. It begins to hit his arm, though the armor protects them from damage. Mason holds onto the head, increasing the pressure of his grip. When he feels it stop struggling, Mason drops it before walking to the soldier in Power Armor.
"We appreciate the assistance, civilians. But what's you business here?" the man in Power Armor questioned, Mason noting the cautiousness. Not bad.
"Pest exterminator. Heard you had a feral problem," Mason said, hoping to earn a laugh. It didn't.
"Evading my questions is a surefire way of getting yourself ejected from the compound. Are you from a local settlement?
Depends. Pre-War or Post-War? Pre-War, definitely not. Mason had grown up in the south, where his parents lived. Post-War, yes, so Mason would go with that one since it'd be less suspicious.
"Sanctuary Hills… other side of Concord."
"I've seen the location on our maps, but I've never visited the area myself. There isn't much over there for us to collect." Much of what? Food? There was enough of that over there now. "If I appear suspicious, it's because our mission here has been difficult. Since the moment we arrived in the Commonwealth, we've been constantly under fire." More like constantly fighting a riot of ferals. "If you want to continue pitching in, we could use an extra gun on our side."
Mason knew what he was about to say would sound hypocritical. "I want to help, but I don't like the secrecy. Who are you? Really?" Yep. Knew he would sound like a hypocrite. Mason wasn't even telling him where he's actually from.
"Seems more than reasonable, if you really want our help," Garvey added, earning a friendly grin from Mason.
"Very well. I'm Paladin Danse, Brotherhood of Steel." So the initials were… BS? "Over there is Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys," Danse said, gesturing to the woman first, then the man. "We're on recon duty, but I'm down a man and our supplies are running low. I've been trying to send a signal to my superiors, but the signals too weak to reach them."
That much was true, considering they barely picked up the signal by Graygarden.
"Sir, if I may," Haylen spoke up, Mason looking at her with interest. Just from how she was speaking, she seemed too nice for these people.
"Proceed, Haylen."
"I've modified the radio tower of the roof of the police station, but I'm afraid it isn't enough. We need something that will boost the signal."
Well, Mason knows of one thing that could help them…
"Our target is ArcJet Systems, and it contains the technology we need… the Deep Range Transmitter." That's the thing. "We infiltrate the facility, secure the transmitter, and bring it back here. So what do you say? You willing to lend the Brotherhood of Steel a hand?"
"When I finish a previous obligation," Mason remarked, looking the man in the eyes, which was relatively easy since they were eye level with each other.
"Alright. I will wait a week, and if you're not back by then, I will assume you died and continue without you. Understood."
"Understood."
"Alright. In that case, head on in for the night. We'll provide shelter until after the mission."
"Thank you," Mason said as he walked past him.
Walking in after collecting loot off the ferals, Mason sits at one of the tables as Heather comes over to start patching up one of his legs, which he hadn't noticed had fragments from the mine earlier in it. Noticing she had something to talk about when she finished wrapping his leg, Mason turned her head to look at him.
"Is everything alright?" Mason asked, concerned for her.
"Feel like I'm robbing you every time you buy something from me. So, I'm giving you the biggest discount I can afford." When she finished putting her supplies away, she sat down across from Mason. "You mean trying to be more than friends?" Mason asked, confused by what she said. What's brought this on? They hadn't been traveling for long.
"I'm not looking for anything big. Just something a little more physical. You game?"
Weighing his options there, Mason had two. A) Say yes and sleep with her, keeping things normal for the most part except for them sleeping together, or B) say not and make things awkward between them. He rather enjoyed having Heather around, and Mason didn't want things to be awkward.
"Alright," Mason replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean, I'm fine with that if you are."
"Right behind you!"
Taking off his armor, Mason stuck it in his bag before finding a sleeping bag and laid down next to Heather. This was going to be a long night.
Waking up the next morning, Mason noticed it was four, and the sun was still rising. When he tried to sit up, he found Heather had used his arm as a pillow, and now he didn't have to wonder why his arm felt numb. It was. Pulling his bag over to him, Mason took the blanket strapped to it, and after lifting Heather's head carefully, set it in place of his arm. Changing into a different set of clothes due to the previous set being torn a bit could be fixed with a needle and thread. Looking around for anything useful, Mason found a bit of junk and some patrolman sunglasses, one of which Mason handed to Preston, who got up before Mason, which was surprising since he was up before him.
After stretching his arms, Mason grabbed his bag and sat down at the table, and began to make sure his pistol and rifle were loaded, along with a secondary and tertiary magazine on the off chance he ran out of bullets in the middle of battle. Storing the magazines in an easy-to-reach place, Mason took his armor from the bag and put it on, leaving his helmet on the table. After eating some meat in their cooler, Mason noticed Rhys glaring at him, which rubbed Mason the wrong way.
"Can I help you, 'Knight?'" Mason said, emphasizing knight.
"Think you're some kind of hot-shot?" Rhys fumed, which irritated Mason.
Stepping up to Rhys, Mason questioned, "What's got your panties in a twist?"
Startled, Rhys had to recompose himself before continuing. "You're hired help, and that's all there is to it."
"What's your problem, stercore caput," Mason barked, using Latin this time. One good thing about being in the same squad as someone who spoke it, he knew how to say some colorful things. Rhy's stepped back, both surprised by Mason's statement and by Mason towering over him. "Hired help or not, I got the job done while you sat on your cul the entire time. If you get wounded on a battlefield, grab a stimpak, use it, and get back to the fight. Especially when you have people relying on you, otherwise you may as well get left behind."
"Big talk for a scavver."
"It's so nice you don't care what other people think," Mason remarked, making Rhys step back. Didn't expect that. One thing Mason loved about living there, no one understood a majority of his insults.
"Got some backbone? Good. You'll need it if you want to keep hanging with us. Now, why don't you run off and see if Top needs you to do anything else," Rhys finished before walking away, unsure of how to continue.
"What was that compliment, Mason," Preston asked him as Mason sat back down. "Guy seemed to be giving you trouble."
"Oh, it was an insult," Mason said, pulling a bottle of water out. "It was a jab at his personality belonging to that of a l'âne."
"A what?"
"Sorry, Preston. I don't particularly enjoy cursing in English, but for you, I'll make an exception. What I called him was a jackass. Now let's go see if Heather is awake yet."
Looking around, Mason found Heather talking to Haylen, deep in their conversation. Walking around the station, Mason found a black hood similar to what Danse was wearing, which was a bonus to him considering he didn't like bright colors. Too flashy, not enough subtlety. Mason poured some water into a bowl for Dogmeat before finishing it off himself, sitting back down at the table.
"Rest well?" Mason questioned as Heather came up to him, not looking away from his rifle as he polished it.
"Best sleep ever. We cuddled the whole time."
"Technically until I woke up. Still, it was nice," Mason said, a grin evident on his face. "So, ready to get this show on the road?"
"Ready."
"Well alright. Let's get going, Garvey," Mason said, wrapping the bandana around his arm. "Time to go help those machines."
Putting his bag and helmet on, Mason held his rifle, and they began walking. After about three hours, they got to an old railway check station, finding two people had turned it into a tato farm. Relatively small for the time being, but it had potential.
"Hey there, friend," one of the settlers said as she approached Mason, even though he was certain they didn't know him. "We're in trouble. Maybe you can help?"
Mason sighed, understanding why they said that now. Needed help, and he probably could take care of the problem.
"It'll be a day or so, but I'll be glad to help if I can."
"It's these damned greenskins-the super mutants! Whenever they come through, we have to run away or hide. They take away everything they can eat and destroy most everything else. And if they ever took us by surprise… We'd both be dead. We can't live like this. Please, you've got to help us."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Oh, thanks! We're kind of at the end of our rope here."
Telling him about the fraternal post not far from the police station, Mason grew concerned. Not for these people, but the 'soldiers' there. The fact they set a base so close to those things was surprising.
When they got to the bank of the river, Mason put his rifle away into his bag, took off his helmet and armor, stuffed his boots and socks into his bag, and handed them to Garvey and Heather.
"You two take Dogmeat and take the long route," Mason said as he held onto a scope. "I'm going to do a bit of recon and find out what we're up against if there's anything there."
"You sure, Mason," Preston asked. "I can follow behind if necessary."
"Don't worry. I won't engage in any combat until you guys get there. That's a promise."
Stepping into the river, Mason began to swim, keeping a tight grip on the scope. Wouldn't be able to scout out the area without a way to survey it.
Crawling out of the river on the other side, Mason crouched as he moved, keeping low to the ground. Getting to the top of a hill, he laid on the ground, sticking behind a bush so the others could find him. Steadying the scope as he looked through them, Mason began looking around the plant, seeing five green men and a mutated dog. Didn't look like it'd be too hard to take care of on his own but one: he had no weapons. Two: he had no armor. Three: He had no experience fighting these, and looks could be deceiving. And four: he promised not to engage until they got there.
One of the men and the dog were by the entrance near the front of the plant, another was in a building raised off the ground by a walkway, a third had a missile launcher and was patrolling the walkways, a fourth was just walking around carrying a mini-nuke in his arms, a fifth was on the other side by the elevator entrance to the place, and the sixth was far from the entrance patrolling the large sidewalk in front. After waiting half an hour, Heather, Garvey, and Dogmeat finally got here, Garvey handing Mason's bag to him.
"Finally you guys got here," Mason said as he put his boots back on. "There are five green men and a mutated dog of sorts."
"Green men? You Super Mutants?"
"If that's what those are. There are five of them and a Mutant Hound. Considering one holds a mini-nuke, I'd say he's a suicider. Another one is holding a missile launcher, so he's probably a Skirmisher."
"This'll be a bit difficult," Garvey remarked, cranking his rifle. "Any ideas?"
"A few. Garvey, you'll stay on this hill from afar, shooting them with your musket. Heather, you'll be between the hill and the fence, with Garvey covering you when necessary. As for me, I'll be getting up close and personal with them," Mason said as he strapped his helmet.
"Mason, I'm sorry, but what are you going to do about the Suicider?" Garvey questioned.
In response, Mason pulled out his rifle and turned around, and aimed for the mini-nuke the ugliest one was holding. Holding his breath as he lined up my shot, Mason pulled the trigger, the bullet flying for a minute before hitting the nuke, blowing the mutant up. When he saw Garvey staring at me with his mouth agape, Mason answered, "What Suicider?"
Before they could do anything, an explosion went off behind them, and when they turned, Mason saw the Skirmisher had fired but missed.
"Okay!" Mason beamed. "Let's get to work!"
Running forward, Mason ducked under a missile as it went overhead, dodging a third as it narrowly missed his torso and got behind a structure a missile couldn't destroy. A mutant ran up and swung a board down before Mason stopped it using both hands before sending a knee to the groin. It went down, holding what Mason left, and another tried to attack from behind before Mason sidestepped the board and sent a back kick to the stomach.
"That can't be the best you petite merde have?" Mason questioned as a third hit him in the side with a board, breaking it in the process. Odd part was the board didn't hurt. Weren't these things supposed to be super? Putting his arms up in a defensive stance, Mason smirked.
"Come on, put 'em up," Mason taunted, causing it to roar in anger and swing wildly. Turning his body to avoid the swing, Mason threw a jab to its face, following closely with a cross. Reeling back, the Super Mutant clutched its face in pain, grunting in anger.
"I didn't even put my full weight behind that," Mason scoffed. He didn't care if he sounded arrogant at the moment, but if they were Super Mutants, they needed to earn the name.
"Stupid human!" the first yelled as it got off the ground, Mason pulling his blade out.
"Smart enough to kick your cul," Mason replied, ducking under a punch. Slicing across the stomach, Mason stabbed it in the nape of the neck before dragging the blade down its spine, leaving it to fall to the ground. Now Mason would admit that was unfair. He had a knife while it was weaponless.
Recovering from the hit to the face, the previous Super Mutant punched Mason in the chest, catching Mason by surprise. Didn't necessarily hurt him, but it did shock him. It had been a while since anything had hit Mason with their fists. Although Mason knew nothing was broken, he could feel a few ribs were cracked. Wouldn't need a stimpak though, since nothing was broken and he could see clearly.
"Okay big guy," Mason said, holding his knife in a defensive stance. "Let's go."
Trying to hit him, Mason dodged the fist before sending a jab into its face again, making it reel back again. Kicking it in the stomach, Mason made it kneel before thrusting the knife into its skull.
"Any of you baiseurs know how to fight?" Mason questioned, noticing they were fighting the Skirmisher above; the Mutant Hound turned to ash. Rolling to the side as a Super Mutant came barreling towards him, Mason didn't waste any time getting onto his feet to get ready for it. Clutching its face after it ran into the structure, it clutched its face as it swung wildly, Mason ducking under it easily before he kicked it between the legs as hard as he could, knocking it to the ground.
"Wasn't your day, connard," Mason remarked, stabbing it in the back of its head. Breathing heavily, Mason noticed the lack of lasers firing, realizing the fight was over for the time being.
"One step… closer to fixing… this place!" Mason chuckled as he caught his breath, making Heather and Garvey give him weird looks. "Let's check… the place for traps."
"Of course, Mason," Garvey replied.
"On it."
While they were searching the area, Dogmeat triggered a tripwire, making Mason yank him back, the missile burning his pant leg. Fortunately, they were standing in water, so the fire got put out as soon as he dropped. Collecting the Heather and Garvey found at the entrance, they headed in, Heather noticing the pant leg but not saying anything.
"We should write an issue of the Wasteland Survival Guide.," Heather commented as they walked in. "We can call it 'Swimming with Super Mutants.'"
Taking the elevator down, Mason found it surprising it was still working and got to the first level of the water treatment area.
Seeing a turret in the corner of the room, Mason ducked behind a wall and pulled out his rifle, stopping Dogmeat from moving past the wall as Heather and Garvey stood behind. Mason turned around the corner when it stopped firing, firing two shots into the barrel, blowing the thing up. Surveying the treatment area, Mason understood the problem. The place was flooded, backed up to the point the water reached the floor they were on, and with Mason's knowledge on these places, it had four switches, the first of which should be nearby.
Finding the first switch, Mason flipped it and watched the water as it began to drain. Seeing some giant crabs as the water drained, he noticed one looked tougher than the other two. Luckily he had a couple of mines and noticed it was by a door that had to be opened from the other side. Mason walked slowly through the hall leading to a side room and ducked behind a wall when a turret started firing. Heather shot it twice, destroying it.
"You're amazing," Mason beamed, Heather turning away as he noticed something by a computer that connected to the blown-up turret.
"Picket Fences," Mason grinned. "I'll have to look at this next chance I get." He needed to find some glasses, so he didn't have to be close to things to see them. It wasn't that his eyesight was necessarily terrible; they just helped him with reading more than anything else. After finding some more useful junk, they continued through the hallway until they got to the door.
"Gonna need you guys to step back," Mason told them, pulling his bag off his back. "Don't want you getting hurt by the explosion."
"What explosion," Garvey asked before Mason pulled out some mines. Grabbing Dogmeat by the collar, they headed back while Mason armed the mines, putting his bag back on and holding his rifle in one hand.
"Okay, time to do this," Mason said, taking a deep breath before hitting the button to the door, opening it. Firing at the crabs, Mason gets their attention, and they start to crawl after him. Backing away as he fires, the more formidable looking one comes through first, activating the mines. Hearing the beeping, Mason puts the rifle down and speeds up, backing further away to Heather and Garvey. Reaching them as the mines explode, Mason drops to a knee and smiles at the damage done.
"Gotch, chienne," Mason remarked, noticing it glowing red and having two broken legs. As two more crabs come out from behind it, they begin firing, the first one going down after Preston shot its face, the other two going down after a few shots to the torso and legs.
"Why does a crab have a piece of raider armor," Mason questioned as he handed it to Heather.
"It protects more against Super Mutants," she replied, making Mason laugh.
"I suppose that makes sense. Why else would a giant crab have armor?"
"You mean Mirelurk?" Garvey asked, confusing Mason.
"Is that what you call these? To me they're just giant crabs."
Clearing the rest of the place, the only things that gave them any trouble were five turrets, two in one room, one above a switch, and two mounted on some pillars. They ended up taking out more Mirelurks and their hatchlings, but once their legs were taken care of, it wasn't too hard to fight them. Collecting all the meat off them, Mason found another combat rifle in a steamer trunk, having to drop more junk to keep moving without being slowed down too much. Using the elevator to get back to the surface, they walked back to graygarden, killing two radstags on the way, collecting the meat off them. Mason took off his helmet and approached Supervisor White as they approached the place.
"Darling! So good to see you," White greeted as Mason approached her. "You fixed our water problem, didn't you?"
"Yeah. It wasn't easy."
"Here. You can have some of our produce," she replied as she gave him a melon, three mutfruit, and three gourds. Guess that's all they were getting along with their support. "I'll ask Greenie to give you a discount, too, if there's anything else you need. Now I simply must get back to work. Ta-ta."
After she went back to work, Mason found one of the normal Mr. Handy's and reprogrammed it to be a provisioner between here and Starlight. Writing a note to Alice to send some supplies, Mason found enough materials lying around to make a small shack and three beds.
"Let's collect the crop for them before heading back to Cambridge."
While they were collecting the crops, Mason thought to himself, 'I could see myself doing this one day.'
