As he walked into Sanctuary, Mason felt it was nice to be back. Took only six hours to get there from where Brandis was, but he knew he'd be safe.
"Hold it right there!" someone yelled from a guard tower. "Gonna get the boss real quick."
Sighing, Mason set his bags down. His legs felt like they were fire, his back aching from the walking. But if he had to, he'd wait a minute for Sturges or Tyler.
"Think it'll take long?" Mason asked.
"Maybe five minutes," she stated, smiling. "Sturges is more of a repairman than a guard, despite his muscles."
"Fair enough. Sturges is probably on maintenance, considering he ain't at the tower," Mason remarked, neither of the guards he recognized. Must be new. "Hey, I got somethin'-"
"Well, I'll be damned. I assumed the Deathclaws had gotten you. Though based on what Sturges has told everyone, I should've had more hope," someone yelled down. Looking up, Mason saw Tyler, grinning as he picked up his bags. Seeing him gesture for some to open the gates, Mason chuckled. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"
"Been a while," Mason remarked, walking by. "Anyone new who specializes in weapons or armor?"
"Before we get to that, there's someone here for you," Tyler stated, stopping Mason where he was. "Some lady from Starlight came here looking for you with two guards. Said she needed to talk to you about something."
"Alice Carter," Mason questioned, Tyler looking at him in surprise.
"Yep, that's the name. Do you have a perfect memory or something?"
"For names and faces. Ain't perfect for everything. Now can you answer my question?"
"There's this one kid. Alex Carter. A bit rough around the edges. Stays in the house by the bridge. Works on armor, upgrading and repairing."
"Send him by tomorrow," Mason told him, walking into his house. "Gotta talk to him him about that."
"Staying by the bridge?"
"No, armor. Had a shipment delivered here."
"I was wondering who sent that," Tyler stated, looking at Mason as he took his armor off. "May want to put your name on the paper next time."
"Sure," Mason remarked. "I'll remember for future reference. Tell Alice I'll talk to her."
Taking the last of his armor off, Mason sighed. He just wanted to stop fighting. Wanted to settle down. The world didn't want him to. Setting the armor on a mannequin, Mason laid down on the couch and sighed.
"Twenty-five and got back problems," Mason groaned.
"You get used to it after a while," Heather stated, setting her bag down. "Besides, you going around helping people and taking care of their problems. Pretty noble of you."
"I suppose," Mason remarked. "Need experience before I find my son. And before I can train others."
Groaning, Mason stood up, walking over to his fridge. Surprised it was kept stocked, he grabbed some food before going over to the stove that had been installed, preparing the food for dinner. Had to do his fair share of cooking growing up. Living in a household with twenty other children growing up, he would help cook dinner with his mother and aunts.
"Can I help you, Miss Carter," Mason questioned as he put food onto the plates, Alice sitting on the couch.
"Well first, everyone at Starlight went with that Garvey fellow," Alice stated, surprising Mason. "Something about retaking the Castle."
"Didn't mean for that to happen," Mason stated. "Only meant for a group of people, not a whole settlement."
"I would've joined them, but I had to talk to you first," she said, making Mason raise a brow. Standing up, she walked over to Mason, looking at him with eccentric eyes. "I know you're rebuilding the Minutemen. Have you considered a division for mechanics?"
That caught him off guard. Didn't think anyone would be interested in that. She had to have a reason for that.
"Why? We wouldn't have working vehicles. Just people workin' on weapons and armor."
"And robots," she stated, catching him off guard again. "They're fun to work on, and you get machines in your arsenal. And with the right programming and build, a Mr. Gutsy or Assaultron could be as effective as a Sentry Bot."
Looking at her, Mason was stunned by what she said. Not because it couldn't happen, but because there was no way an ordinary wastelander could come up with this.
"Now is not a good time. Currently there are people that can and will reprogram machines. Not only that, before I consider the idea, you would have to go through basic training," Mason stated, surprising her with what he said. "Because at the end of the day, whether it's field or desk work, you're going to need to know what we're up against, and how effective they need to be."
"That's fair," she said with a smile, catching him by surprise when he said that. "You would be pouring resources into an unknown. Still gonna work on the plans. You know how to make a workbench?"
After coming out of his shock, Mason answered, "Yes. How many days are you stayin' for?"
"Three. Wanna see how you lead the place."
"You'll learn more from Tyler. I don't have to tell him what to do often, though there are times where I am concerned. But, I don't have too many, so study through him."
Hearing a knock at the door, Mason sighed, heading to the door.
"We can talk more when we retake the Castle. For now, put those plans on hold." Opening the door for Alice, whoever was looking for Mason stepped to the side as she left. "We can talk more later."
"Mr. Black, Tyler said you wanted to see me," a man said, looking at Mason in his doorway. Looking at the kid, Mason couldn't see him being any older than nineteen. Old enough to leave home but not old enough to be far from his family.
"Alex Carter?" Mason asked, receiving a nod of confirmation. "Ain't done anything wrong. Just heard you like workin' on armor."
"You should've seen when I get here. It was pathetic. Wouldn't use it to wipe boot," Alex stated, making Mason chuckle. "Why? You have request?"
"You know how to work on Power Armor?"
"Little bit," Alex remarked. "Where I come from, Power Armor not common. If you are asking for help, I do not mind. Is it set of T-45?"
"Aye," Mason remarked. "Heading to the Castle in three days. Need the defense capabilities up-"
"Hahaha!" Alex boomed, shocking Mason. "If defense is all that's needed, I get that done. I'll do it for free. Good advertisement. Can start tonight if necessary."
"Not necessary. Was goin' to tell ya tomorrow."
"It's all good. Now I know to keep store shut all day."
That surprised Mason since Tyler hadn't said anything about that. Though if the guy could back up what he said, he could see why he ran a store.
Sitting down at the table to eat, Mason spoke to Heather.
"Did the guy seem odd," Mason asked, pouring his water into a cup.
"Sounded like Yefim. Doesn't look like him though."
Finishing his meal, Mason checked the time, chuckling when he did.
"Imma head to bed," Mason told Heather, getting up after cleaning up. "It's eight. Don't know last time I went to bed this early."
After finding Dogmeat a spot and making sure Curie was fine, Mason went and laid down in his bed. Had a bad dream but got through the night.
Mason opened his eyes and looked over at the Pip-Boy, seeing it was almost four in the morning. Getting out from under Heather, being sure not to wake her, Mason grabbed the Pip-Boy, heading to the kitchen. Seeing Codsworth there, Mason saw he was making a cup of coffee. It'd felt like it'd been a few months since he'd had one. While it'd been over two hundred years, it felt shorter.
"Good morning, sir. I am pleased to give you this cup of coffee. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did making it," Codsworth said as Mason sat at the bar.
Thanking him, Mason picked up a bowl of soup Codsworth left for him, asking what it was.
"Radstag Stew, sir," Codsworth remarked. "Mr. Falsir occasionally catches a deer while he's working, and he sent the last one yesterday. Figured this would make a good breakfast for the master."
"No need to call me that, Cods," Mason said, sitting down. "Just call me Mason or Black if you're not comfortable with my first name."
"It's just easier, sir," he stated as he started cleaning. "Regardless, you are my master and friend, something I doubt few Mr. Handy's can say. Just knowing that is enough."
That was nice, but he'd never been comfortable being given respect from someone older or higher than him in rank. Heck, the only time he accepted it from older people was if he ranked higher than them. However, when it came to ordinary people, he preferred to go by his first name.
Finishing his meal, Mason walked out to the workbench, collecting the armor, and began separating it by type instead of name. Made it a confusing mess. Picking up a sturdy variant of combat armor, Mason took it over to the workbench and began working on it, something he'd need after he took back the Castle.
Someone liked mannequins because there was one by the workbench. After getting everything, he found Alex waiting for him, tools ready.
"So, specific grade wanted?" Alex remarked, Mason setting the bag with combat armor down. Looking him over, Mason noticed the .44 strapped to his hip and gestured to it.
"Enough to stop your pistol," Mason remarked. "It packs a powerful punch, more than your standard rifle."
Grinning, Alex turned to the armor. "I am going to have some fun with this."
Pulling out a chair, Mason sat in front of the workbench, pulling out the leg pieces; Mason got to work. Grabbing the glasses Heather had left on the workbench, Mason put them on, getting to work.
Unfortunately, they didn't have the materials to make a fiber coating, so he'd have to go with a fiberglass one for the time being. At least this way, he wouldn't have to worry about raiders with assault rifles or pipe weapons. But if they had shotguns and combat rifles, he'd need to be fast.
Taking three hours to do the one leg, Mason paused, looking at Alex's progress on the armor, surprised the guy hadn't gotten tired. Going inside to grab a bottle of water, Mason returned to Alex, handing him one.
"Thank you, Obschchiy," Alex said, shocking Mason. Was that Russian? "I'd forget if you don't remind me."
"No problem," Mason remarked. "Don't want you passin' out."
"Did not know I'd be working with rusted armor," Alex said, grinning as Mason pulled the other leg out to work on. "Means I get to make it better than before."
Getting back to work, Mason began strengthening the inside. Picking up a ceramic plate, Mason got to work fixing it to the inside.
After finishing the ceramic, Mason took a deep breath, tired from the two hours he spent installing it. He would have to line it with a pelt, preventing the armor from being uncomfortable. One good thing about combat armor was that majority of the time, it was one size fits all. The few times someone was too small or too large, the adjustments were easy to make.
Mason set the tools down, checking the time as he finished it.
"Carter," Mason called out, stopping the kid in the middle of welding some plates.
"Yes?"
"Go get some food. It's time to eat," Mason remarked, the clock nearing noon. Looking at the work, Mason was impressed. It looked amazing for someone who didn't know much about Power Armor. The welds were great, the metal polished to the point he could see himself a bit. "Take at least an hour."
"Aye, aye, aye," Carter muttered, setting his tools down to go get food. Mason went back into his house, grabbing some dog food from the bag he hadn't emptied. Opening it, Mason poured it into a bowl for Dogmeat, doing the same with another one for Zeus, who came over to lick Mason as he poured water for them.
After petting the two dogs, Mason walked out, checking what everyone was doing. Seeing two people having some trouble with what looked like a siren of sorts, probably in case of a raider attack, Mason walked over, asking what the problem was. At least they could take care of themselves.
"Can't get this switch to work," the older of the two stated, the younger one looking annoyed. "Everytime we flip it, it turns on, but then it won't turn off without disconnecting the wires."
"Ain't like you could help, scarface," the kid said, the older man smacking the back of his head.
"Sorry about him, got his manners from his grandfather. Been trying to teach him some, but he won't listen."
"Hey, Johnny, how's the siren coming along? I see you and Mason are getting along," Sturges, coming up before the younger one could say anything.
"We can't get the switch to work. I was about to come grab you to see if you could do anything about it."
"I'll take a look," Mason stated, surprising the man and kid. "Got a bit of experience with these. Besides, I'd rather help when I can."
"You've done enough, Mase," Sturges said. "You've been traveling for a while, and-"
"This bastard just came in yesterday. Besides bringing some bags and armor, what has he done?" the kid interjected, annoying Mason. Another entitled brat. Didn't think he'd see one in an apocalypse. Then again, there are raiders.
"You wanna explain?" Mason asked Sturges, arms crossed. The kid was gonna be annoying, and he couldn't have someone who always got on people's nerves.
"Terrence, come with me," Sturges commanded, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. Hearing the kid try to start an argument, Mason turned to the old man.
"Is he always like that?"
"Unfortunately. I was hoping to sign him up for the Minutemen. Heard some good things. Garvey told us how the General is a tough man. Hoped he'd be able to take him in and teach him manners."
"Once he's seventeen, I'd recommend finding the next opening. We don't recruit children who are still wet behind the ears."
"You're a Minuteman? I was wondering where the armor came from. Does all your armor look like that?"
"Just had to retire it," Mason remarked. "And it was just mine. Had to fix it up myself. Headin' to the Castle in a few days. Repairing and fixin' up some armor. Got Mr. Carter workin' on my suit over there." Pointing over to the T-45, the man looked impressed. "Working on some armor for my friend. Now let me see what I can do about the switch. Gloves?"
Looking over it, Mason found it was a relatively simple fix, just some wiring done wrong. After explaining what the problem was and how to fix it, the man thanked Mason for his time. Guess he knew if he had manners, he'd get to stay in the settlement.
Closing the box, Sturges returned with Johnny's son, the boy looking apologetic. Not in a genuine way, but toward Mason specifically. Heading back to the workbench, Mason found Carter already back to work, chuckling as he got to work on the other leg.
As Mason finished the leg piece, he sighed, taking a deep breath. He'd forgotten what working on combat armor specifically was like, but he still enjoyed it. Was a nice change from fighting.
"Need help with armor, Obschchiy?" Alex questioned, setting down the goggles he was using. "Need to take break. You got chest piece I can do?" Alex asked, making Mason chuckle. Pulling the one he grabbed out, Mason handed it to him. "Right here. Need it coated in fiberglass and asbestos. Don't want my partner catchin' on fire."
"Fair enough. What about the arms?"
"Stabilizing them so her shots are more precise," Mason remarked. "She's already a good shot, this'll just make it to where they're easier to make."
"And it won't whether iron or scoped," Alex stated, making Mason chuckle.
"Yeah. How old are you, kid?" Mason questioned, looking at him.
"Forty-eight," Alex remarked, making Mason look at him. Seeing his expression, Alex burst out laughing. "You should… look in mirror," he said between laughs. "I am twenty years old. Only few years younger."
"Well, you are smart for your age," Mason said after getting over the initial shock.
"Only when it comes to armor and writing."
"Doesn't mean you ain't smart," Mason told him, working on braces for the right arm. "'Smart' is a general term. Some people only have one oar in the water."
"That can confuse people," Alex stated, using adhesive to apply ceramic to the chest piece. "Some won't understand."
"Ain't meant to. Didn't think you would, truth be told. Wanna help with the helmet?"
"Nah, gonna rest up for the night when done," Alex remarked. "Been working on suit all day."
"Fair enough," Mason said, setting the arm piece aside. "It's nearing eighteen hundred. Gonna get some food."
"I'll join," Alex stated. "Done with chest. Get back to suit tomorrow. Got legs done today."
As they put their tools away, Dogmeat came up to Mason with a rope in his mouth, confusing him at first. Remembering an activity he used to do with his sister's dogs, Mason grinned.
"Guess you're a puppy at heart," Mason stated, taking the rope before turning to Alex. "Get dinner without me. Gotta spend time with Dogmeat first."
"Okay."
Walking out to the street, Mason was thankful for the lack of vehicles now; otherwise, they'd have to find somewhere else.
"Guess you're a puppy at heart," Mason stated, holding the rope by the end. After Dogmeat got a hold of the other end, he began to play a game of tug of war with him. Every time Dogmeat would pull, Mason would pull back, releasing the rope slowly every once in a while. Dogs get bored real quick when they have no hope of winning.
When a few of the settlers walked by, they looked at Mason with concern until they saw the smile on his face, seeing he was fighting Dogmeat, just playing with him. When Dogmeat would jump forward, trying to grab a different part of the rope, Mason would pull it back real quick to prevent that from happening. Didn't want his hands getting bit like his sister's once when she did that with her dogs. Couldn't write for two days. Though Mason was sure she was just exaggerating.
Releasing the rope after half an hour, Dogmeat went to his little house and laid down, tired from the exercise.
Walking into the dining hall, Mason grabbed some food before sitting beside Heather, striking up a conversation.
"That Alex guy is somethin' else," Mason stated, setting the plate down as he put his rear end on the seat. "From the work on the suit, he can back up what he says."
"Personality could use some work," Heather remarked, cutting into her food. "He shot someone who questioned a piece of armor. Didn't kill the guy, but he takes no refunds."
Taking a deep breath, Mason sighed. "I got a crazy one workin' on my armor."
"You're one to talk," Heather remarked. "Besides that one incident though, people seem to like him."
"Give it time. He's gotta adjust. Probably been on his own for a while. That Terrence kid on the other hand; he's a piece of work. Gonna have to handle him personally if he signs on with the Minutemen."
"Why does that sound like a bad thing?"
"Normally is," Mason stated, swallowing son Nuka-Cherry. "Taught too many dim-wit city lickers; it'd be surprising if he lasted more than a day with me. "How many you think I sent crying to go home?"
"Five?"
"Thirty," Mason remarked, her eyes growing wide, mouth dropping in response. "Some were twice my age. Pathetic. And I was training with them."
"And here I thought you were a nice guy," someone said as they sat down beside Mason. Turning, Mason saw Sturges set a plate down beside me. "You don't hold back."
"I got flaws and mistakes. But I ain't ashamed of being who I am. Leave that to the pantywaist who regret things," Mason responded, eating his food.
"No regrets?" Sturges asked, bewildered at the thought.
"A few," Mason admitted, looking forward as he began to zone out. "Wasn't stuff I could control."
"Is he alright?" Sturges questioned, Heather being just as confused as him.
"Mr. Black has been like since I've been turned on," Codworth said, hovering near the table. "Give him a few minutes and he will be fine."
While Heather and Sturges were confused by it, they decided to listen to Codsworth.
"Think of it this way, Sturges," Mason remarked as he returned to reality. "Keep livin' in the past, never gonna move forward." Noticing them looking at him, Mason was confused. "What?"
"Zoned out," Sturges told him. "Never done it before."
"It happens sometimes," Mason remarked. "Usually because of some memory."
"Thought you didn't dwell on the past."
"I don't. Still have a few good memories," Mason remarked. "Usually from high school. Disappoints me that people haven't rebuilt over two hundred years later."
"You're doin' a fine job of doin' it yourself," Sturges stated, making Mason laugh. "How many settlements have you helped?"
"Fifteen," Heather responded, Mason grinning. "Some of them he set up himself, so if he asks, they'll help him. Probably."
"A few won't be settlements," Mason remarked, Sturges and Heather both surprised. "Starlight's gonna, hopefully, be a center of trade for the Minutemen. Need a source of caps for equipment."
"Any other ones so far," Sturges asked.
"There's a… potential spot in Boston," Mason remarked, remembering a location Garvey had mentioned. "Make a good outpost near Diamond City. Besides, won't force anything onto people."
"Always looking out for the little guys. Everyone's going to love you."
"Not raiders. Or gunners," Mason reminded her. "Hopefully there are ways to rehabilitate them. Doubt all of them were born a raider. Doubt they all wanted to be one."
"Don't let Garvey here you say that," Heather stated. "He'll likely throw a fit."
"Don't blame him. Lost everyone he knew… to Gunners. Over glorified raiders with good armor and guns. Wonder who their benefactor is." Finishing his drink, Mason stood up, grabbing his plate to leave. "Turnin' in for the night. Recommend y'all do the same."
Reaching his house, Mason took off his shirt laying down in his bed. He'd had a tiring day.
The next day was mostly uneventful, though Alice talked off his ear about robotics. He did wonder why she kept her face covered while they were outside. Seemed odd to do. She also kept trying to get Mason to admit he liked Heather, which wasn't true so that never happened.
"Look, Alice, as much as I like the ideas, it's too dangerous to make the foutues choses," Mason said as he finished arm pieces. Setting them down, he turned to her. "Now if you make a way they can't be hacked, I'll consider it."
Talking to Tyler in the dining hall, Mason knew he'd have to keep an eye out for something that would fit him. Something slightly more formal than flannel, but less formal than a suit.
After he finished lunch, he grabbed the materials he'd need for the chestpiece. Setting the materials down on the workbench, Mason began lining the chest piece with asbestos, not wanting Heather to catch on fire from a Molotov. While they were common, it didn't make them any less annoying to deal with. Or dangerous.
Putting rubber behind the asbestos to prevent it from touching Heather, Mason lined the inside with ballistic fiber, slowing down any bullet that would hit the area.
"Fiberglass next," Alex said as he looked at Mason's work. "Fortunately, you were taught, not learned like myself." Noticing the look of confusion, he continued. "Your hands are very… precise. Know what you're doing. Me, not allowed to learn where I come from."
Mason took a deep breath and set down his tools, looking over at Alex.
"Are you Russian?" Mason asked, pointing a hand at him.
"No, but Russian first language. The one who raised me played old Russian movies all the time. Learned the language through her. For a place so advanced, it's still surprising they had those."
"A place so advanced?"
"Another day." Picking his goggles back up, grabbing ahold of the blowtorch, he looked at Mason one more time. "Bit of advice: look out for the crows. They're always watching."
"Whatever you say, kid," Mason responded, going back to the chestpiece. Spending the next hour and a half applying fiberglass, when he finished, Mason put it with the other pieces, picking up the helmet to work on.
"You're doin' a good job," Mason told Alex as he took a break from the suit. "I appreciate the help."
"Like I said: Good advertisement. Is there a specific paint job you want done?"
"Yeah," Mason said. "We can get to it after I finish the helmet."
"Funny. Gonna suggest same thing," Alex stated, making Mason chuckle.
"Alright. Let's go get some food."
Eating his food, Mason thought about what he was going to have to do. The people at Sunshine were likely all Minutemen, and if they weren't, he couldn't force them off for Minutemen to come in. Then he'd be no better than Raiders.
"Thinking about something," Sturges asked, sitting next to Mason.
"Potential checkpoints and bases," Mason remarked. "There's an old training ground we cleared of ferals, but don't have the manpower right now to hold it. Barely have enough to send from settlement to settlement. Didn't even know we had any."
"Garvey does forget the larger details," Sturges remarked. "Usually more concerned with helping others before lookin' at the bigger picture."
"It's why the only thing I'll put him in charge of is training. Can't have the head only be looking at the present." Taking a swig of his drink, Mason looked at Sturges. "Thought anymore 'bout what I said?"
"Sure have. Still thinkin' on it though," Sturges remarked. "Come back after you retake the Castle. Then we'll see."
"Gonna have to give me a few weeks. After we retake the Castle, there's some business I gotta sort out."
"Well, once you get done I'll be here. Helpin' rebuild this place."
"Okay. Gonna head back to my place now. Gonna put some paint on the Power Armor. Mr. Carter's gonna help."
Standing up, Mason threw his trash away, heading back to his place. Grabbing the oil and materials needed, he met Alex back by the station, getting to work on the paint.
By the time they finished, it was nearing ten. Looking at Alex, Mason shook his hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Carter," Mason said, his grip firm.
"Good advertisement. Tell people Real Steel in Sanctuary if they ask."
"Don't trust it be puttin' it to the test tomorrow," Mason remarked.
"Understandable. After seeing it work like a beauty, don't forget to tell people about the shop."
"Alright. Well, I'll see you when I'm heading out tomorrow," Mason told him. "Get a good night's rest, Mr. Carter."
Heading to bed for the night, Mason was looking forward to feeling like a tank again.
Getting ready to leave the next day, Mason took one last look at his old armor.
"Good-bye, old friend," Mason said, placing a hand on the shoulder pad. He didn't want to, but it was time to retire it.
"You ready?" Mason asked, turning to Heather as he stepped onto the driveway.
"Yep," Heather said. Sighing, Mason got behind the Power Armor. Putting a core in, he opened it. Stepping in, Mason felt the systems turn on, the pressure plates on for the feet triggering them. Reaching into the arms, flexed the fingers, noting that Alex had done something to make them move smoother. Pressing a button with his chin, the back of the armor closed, locking Mason in it.
"Let's move out!" Mason yelled, catching Dogmeat's attention. As they moved down the street, some people stopped working and eating to look at them. "We got a three day walk ahead of us," Mason told Heather, stepping onto the bridge leaving Sanctuary. "We can't waste daylight. Too dangerous to travel at night."
Reaching Concord, Mason heard movement ahead, seeing a raider move into a building quickly.
"Raiders," Mason told Heather, getting ready to charge forward as Dogmeat growled.
Bang!
"Shit!" one of the raiders yelled, the bullet bouncing off Mason's chestplate harmlessly. "He's wearing power armor!"
As soon as he yelled that, hell broke loose. A raider tried to back away from Mason, running into a wall as Mason charged forward. Slamming a fist into the raider, Mason pulled it back, finding it covered in blood. He'd have to control his strength in this.
"Fucking shit! Fire everything you've got!" a raider yelled, firing his weapon. Running at Mason with a bat, a raider got sent flying, Mason catching him in the chest when he swung. Going through a wall, it collapsed onto the raider, making Mason wince. He had liked that bar.
Turning back to the street, Mason almost reeled back, a bullet catching the helmet, hitting the side. Looking forward, he saw two raiders keeping their distance with their rifles. Wasn't stopping him. Charging forward, the raiders didn't have time to comprehend what he was doing, the cores battery draining faster. Twisting his body to the side, a feat most considered difficult, Mason threw a closed fist into a raider, sending him flying into his friend.
As Heather took care of them, Mason moved forward, the remaining four raiders terrified of his presence. And he couldn't blame them. They were fighting someone in Power Armor.
Storming forward, Mason grabbed two of them by the throat, lifting them off the ground as the other two backed away, petrified by him.
"Who… are… you?" one of the raiders gasped, Mason beginning to apply pressure on their throats.
"You can call me… the General," Mason growled, making all the raiders pale. Clenching his hands, Mason dropped the two raiders, their bodies hitting the ground as blood spilled.
"Th-The General!" the last two raiders yelled, surprised. "But you don't wear Power Armor! Why are you now?"
"I got business elsewhere," Mason said, charging forward. As they began to try to run away, Heather hit them in the back of the legs; Mason steamrolled one of them, grabbing the other by the back of the shirt. Dragging him to the museum, he used his free hand to grab him by the belt before slamming him headfirst into the wall.
"Let's collect the armor and weapons," Mason said, turning to Heather.
"Already on it."
"Don't remember the walk bein' this short," Mason remarked as they walked by Drumlin Diner. Walking through the gates of Starlight, Mason noticed it felt… empty without people. Nearing Lexington, Mason saw they were making decent process, likely to reach Diamond City by fourteen hundred.
"Heather," Mason said as they entered the city. "Gonna be traveling with that reporter for a while." Noticing her tense up, Mason took a deep breath. "Not gonna to ask you to be friends . Just avoid pickin' fights. Don't do what I would. We need three people for our group. One to lead, one to support, and the other to watch the equipment during battle."
"What about Dogmeat," she asked. "He's a member."
"This guy," Mason said, bending down, running a metal hand through his fur, "is more like our mascot. It's the only way people know we're the real deal."
Before she could respond, a bullet hit the back of his helmet.
"We'll finish this conversation after the fight," Mason told her, standing up. Thankfully the screen in the helmet provided a more precise picture, the sensors picking up what his eyes usually couldn't. As the raiders fired their weapons, Mason charged forward, grabbing the barrel of a gun when a raider tried hitting him. Sending a fist into his stomach, Mason sent the man flying into a wall, the weapon in his hands useless to him. Dismantling it, Mason turned to the other three.
Keeping his arms raised as he neared them, when he was close enough, Mason raised a foot before stomping, making the concrete beneath them shake. Punching the nearest raider as he stumbled, Mason sent him flying into a barrel, breaking his spine as he slammed into it.
"Bastard! You'll pay for this!" a raider yelled, Mason grabbing her by the shirt. Slamming her into the bottom of the pool, Mason turned to the last two, gesturing for Heather to help. Grabbing one by the arm as Heather vaporized the other, Mason brought his elbow down onto them, making them crumple under the force. Collecting the armor and ammunition, they began walking again.
"I know how you feel," Mason told Heather, nearing Cambridge. 'Not askin' ya to be friends. Just tolerate her. I'll step in if she tries to start anything."
"It's not that easy," she stated; a feral ghoul started running at them. "She pushed too far for that article."
"I'm aware," Mason said, stopping the creature. "Did the same when she interviewed me. Only willing to travel with her because I need to evaluate her skills before we get to the Castle. Ain't gonna to be a permanent thing. Just a few weeks at the most."
"I don't see why there isn't anyone else," she stated with a frown. "Codsworth would probably do better."
"Don't have time to give him the upgrades," Mason reminded her, sending a ghoul flying in a bus. "If I did, would've chosen him." After elbowing the head of another one clean off, he sighed. "Wouldn't ask you to do this if it was impossible."
Approaching the police station, Mason turned to her. "Just don't antagonize her. Otherwise it'll be like I'm watching children."
Entering the precinct, Danse was standing by the front desk, Rhys standing beside him, and Haylern was sitting at a table. Taking off his helmet, Mason walked up to them, Danse notably sighing.
"There you are, civilian. There's still a place for you in the Brotherhood… If you want it."
"What would be expected," Mason questioned. It would help to have people on his side if he needed them. Joining them may be the only way to get them to become allies. Or meet their leader.
"You'd be under my command, and I'd expect you to follow orders." Yeah, Mason was better off giving than receiving." No more mercenary work… this is the real thing." Ironic since he's the one who's been out there fighting things worse than ferals." You'd have access to advance military weapons, as well as your own personal suit of power armor." He already had Power Armor, and he didn't usually use weapons. "Most importantly, you'd have the Brotherhood at your back… ready to spill its own blood to keep you alive. So… what do you say?"
"Alright," Mason told him, though he knew he'd probably leave later after talking to the one in charge. "I'll do it."
"Then that settles it. Haylen, Rhys… It's time to welcome our newest recruit to the recon team. He shows a lot of promise, and with proper guidance, I think he has the potential of becoming one of the best."
"Only in it for the spiffy uniforms," Mason remarked, grinning as Haylen laughed.
"Oh yeah? And here I thought you joined up for a sense of purpose and meaning," she stated, smiling at him.
"So, you decided to stay, huh? I expected you to take your payment and haven't been here for a while," Rhys said while frowning at me.
"Why not fight this out? I'm certain you'll be on the ground in ten seconds," Mason remarked, not liking his attitude. He never did like ungrateful pieces of crap.
"You can play it however you want, tough guy. It's gonna take a lot more than completing one mission to impress me."
"Rhys, that's enough. Like it or not, you're going to have to learn to work together," Danse interrupted as Mason was about to respond, turning to him. "And you need to understand what it means to be part of the Brotherhood. We're not soldiers of fortune, we're an army, and we've dedicated our lives to uphold a strict code of you intend to stay in our ranks, you need to obey our tenets without questions."
"Never good at following orders," Mason stated. Because usually, they didn't have the best interest of the ones involved, just what benefited the ones giving them. Only time he would listen was if they didn't compromise his morals.
"If you intend to stay with us, I expect you to take my advice seriously. I only ask two things from anyone under my command: Honesty and respect. You fall in line, you stay in line. I give you an order, and you follow it. It's as simple as that. Now, Before I release you to Haylen and Rhys for your assignments, there's one last order of business. From this moment forward, I'm granting you the rank of Initiate. This is only a training rank… I'm not permitted to grant ranks any higher than that."
"Fair enough," Mason stated, considering he didn't intend to stay with them forever.
"Outstanding soldier."
"Ad Victoriam, Initiate," Haylen said, which made him smile a bit.
"He doesn't even know what that means, Haylen," Rhys remarked, which made Mason laugh. "What, you got something to say?"
"Yeah. Ad Victoriam means 'To Victory,' cacas macula," I shot back, which made him scowl. "An old friend used to use that as a battle cry."
"It's the Brotherhoods as well," Danse stated. "In our eyes, defeat is unacceptable because we're fighting for the future of mankind." If that's true, the world was in danger. "Our rallying cry is more powerful than any weapon you could ever carry. Remember that." No, it isn't. Mason remembered Roger thought the same thing before he nearly lost an arm. "Now, I need you to report to Haylen or Rhys for your next assignment. Dismissed, soldier."
