CHAPTER 2
Too Easy
Grey rolled her shoulders for the umpteenth time, pulling her gaze back from her rifle's scope. Dark was settling around her, the whites of Dogmeat's eyes barely visible even as he laid by her legs. Grey had perched herself on the second floor of what had once been an appliance shop, body hidden by a crumbling wall that overlooked the Cambridge Police Station. She'd been there since midday, watching the Brotherhood soldiers' movements, the patterns in their watch, the length of their shifts. They didn't operate like clockwork, but they were predictable enough. Always a minimum of two on guard, at least one in power armour.
A man in red and grey fatigues spent the last three hours behind a welding mask, fortifying the barriers in bits and drabs. He seemed the chattiest of the lot, commenting on everything from the weather to the number of laser scorches decorating the station steps. Grey imagined some of the damage was from the ghoul attack several weeks back, but the damage was too extensive to be isolated to that one incident. The barriers were also riddled with .38 rounds, "the raider special" as Piper once called them. A local gang probably saw an opportunity to reclaim College Square after Grey and Danse had disposed of the ferals. Probably saw three soldiers holed up in a dilapidated building as easy pickings. Grey smirked. Poor raiders.
One of the soldiers laughed as the welder deliberated the scale or number of attacks.
"No one's going to move on this place now that the Prydwen is in town."
That was the third time Grey had heard that word. Was that a person, a weapon, a rank? She knew the word was Celtic in origin. Irish, Welsh, Scottish—something like that. She couldn't place it though. Familiar, but not familiar enough. Grey'd never been one for languages or literature. She enjoyed history, to an extent, but had always preferred social sciences—sociology, psychology, political science. Anything that could distill people into a series of patterns and generalizations. Anything that could help her gain an upper hand.
Grey's stomach made an audible growl, loud enough that one of the soldiers' heads snapped in her direction. Grey pressed her back to the wall and brought her rifle to her chest a second before a headlight tore through the cracks in the brickwork. She could feel Dogmeat's body tense alongside her. Her breath hitched. The headlight swung across the dilapidated wall, shadows dancing along the inside of the shop, air thick with cobwebs and dust. The subtlest of growls began to emanate from Dogmeat, more vibration than sound. Grey's hand shot out instinctively, cupping his snout and giving a squeeze. The growl ceased.
"What's wrong, Daniels?"
Another sweep of the light. A pause.
"I'm not sure. Thought I heard… something."
Grey felt her stomach begin to clench again, and she hugged her rifle tighter, desperate for it to absorb some of the sound.
"Want us to do a sweep?"
Fuck.
"Perhaps."
Another scan of the light.
Fuck fuck fuck. There would be no smooth talking herself out of this one. They'd shoot her the moment they got a glimpse of her. She was dirty, tattered, but armed. Too many guns for a settler, and too few trinkets for a scavenger. Best case scenario, she was pegged as a mercenary; worst case, a Gunner. Either way, she'd be dead before she could even open her mouth to explain. She could run, but by the time she pulled herself to her feet, the solider would already have the minigun revved. No escaping that—the wall was already in ruin. She was trapped.
The silence stretched, light fixed on the lip by Dogmeat's back.
Don't fucking move.
She heard the gears churn in the power armour, the shift in weight as the solider changed their stance. Her stomach tightened again, and her heart leapt to her throat.
"Probably nothing. Stand down, Michaels."
Grey felt herself deflate against the wall, ears numb to the continued conversation. The light had flicked away. Her arms trembled as she tried to loosen her grip on her gun, fingers white from the strain.
She was a fucking fool, perching herself up there, pretending to know anything about recon or stealth. She was an attorney for fuck's sake, an overconfident asshole whose only two skills were bullshiting and failing to give a crap. She'd only gotten her hands on her first sniper rifle several weeks ago, and yet there she was, peering through a scope and convincing herself she could spy on a professional army with complete ease. Fuck, she'd even spent a good hour contemplating whether she had the upper body strength to pull herself up onto the station's fire escape without drawing attention. Even if it could hold her weight, it would be rusted and louder than a foghorn. That, and she'd never done a pull-up in her life. What made her think she could do one now, especially after having her muscles on ice for 200 years?
She was smarter than this, and she knew it. She was doing the one thing she promised herself she wouldn't do: be like her husband. Be a complete and utter fool.
Fuck that and fuck him. She needed to do this right.
Gathering up her gear and slipping away from the wall, she tapped two fingers against her leg, drawing Dogmeat's gaze. Time to go.
—
"'Decimated'? That's the word you're going with?" Laughter clung to Haylen's voice, its serious note all but engulfed by the smile tugging at her lips.
"Yes, Doc, decimated."
The laughter broke free. "I don't know, Knight, that word sounds awfully advanced. If I didn't know better I'd say you'd been repla—"
Haylen froze.
Grey smirked, continuing to lean against the far wall. "Oh, don't stop on my behalf. I want to see where this was going."
Rhys glowered, straightening his back. "What the hell are you doing back here?"
"Rhys," Haylen hissed, cheeks aflame.
"No, Haylen, I'm not—"
A throat clearing cut him short. Rhys' body immediately stiffened into attention.
Grey swivelled her head as the Paladin walked into the station's reception area in full power armour. His step was light despite the weight; Grey found herself wondering if the armour ever came off.
"Knight, you will show our guest the respect she deserves."
Grey watched the muscles tighten in Rhys' jaw. "Yes, sir."
"At ease, then."
Dogmeat pressed against Grey's leg as the Paladin approached. She dropped her hand to scratch behind his ears. From her periphery, she could tell that Danse was attempting not to loom, but the height of the suit made it near impossible. She could sense him waiting, not with urgency or an invasion of her space, but with a quiet patience, a quiet yet unintentionally imposing patience. For a second, she was twenty-six again, Nate to her left, service uniform pristine, waiting for her to look up, to see him, see he was alive. She forced herself to look up at Paladin Danse and the memory faded. She swallowed the feeling down, something hollow taking its place.
"There's still a place for you in the Brotherhood."
Grey blinked. "What?"
"If you want it."
It wasn't that easy, was it? Grey had planned her pitch from Goodneighbor to Cambridge. Find a way to confront the Paladin, remind him of her abilities, her "selfless" assistance at ArkJet, her contribution to the cause. Make some false platitudes, strike some terms and conditions she could pretend to abide by for as long as necessary until she had what she needed. She'd rehearsed the overconfident approach, the subservient approach, even the legs-wide, cunt-welcoming approach. So yes, it took her a moment to recover, mind fighting the bewilderment her face wished to convey.
She wanted to ask, "Why?" Why her, why still the pitch. She'd seen the quality of the soldiers outside. Toned women and men, expertise in weapon handling, equipped for Armageddon. Grey wasn't one to sell herself short, but she knew that nothing about her said "soldier". She didn't have the stance, the discipline. She barely had the gear; half of her firearms were held together with rusted bolts and duct tape. It didn't quite make sense, but maybe that was the point: nothing in this post-apocalyptic nightmare ever did.
"I'd be honoured to join."
The corners of his mouth gave the slightest quiver. "Then that settles it. Haylen, Rhys," he called over his shoulder, "it's time to welcome our newest recruit to the Brotherhood. She shows a lot of promise, and with the proper guidance, I think she has the potential of becoming one of the best."
She wanted to laugh at that, but settled for a false smile. "Thanks, I promise not to let you down." If only that were true.
Haylen approached, eyes bright and cheeks still flushed. "You don't have to prove anything else to me. Getting that transmitter was enough."
Rhys scoffed. "So you decided to stay, huh? I expected you to take your payment and run."
Grey threw a flirtatious glance at him, lips lightly pouted, head slightly tilted. She knew how to deal with men like Rhys; they were much easier to overcome as they stewed in confusion. "Let's just hug this out and get it over with, huh? What do you say?"
His brow furrowed. "You can play it however you want, tough girl. It's going to take a lot more than completing one mission to impress me."
"Rhys, that's enough." Paladin Danse's voice shot through the police station like an arrow. "Like it or not, you're going to have to learn to work together. And you," he stressed, eyes fixed on Grey. Her stomach dropped. "You need to understand what it means to be a 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 ethics. If you intend to stay within our ranks, you need to obey our tenants without question."
Well, fuck, Grey thought, regaining her composure. "Understood."
"Outstanding. Since I know you're eager to get started, I'll get right to the point. I only ask for 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."
Grey wasn't exactly a follower, but sure, she could play along. At least for a while.
"There's one last order of business I want to get out of the way. I'm going to recommend you to be awarded the rank of Knight. Now, nothing's official until you speak to Elder Maxson, but I wanted you to be the first to know."
Again, words nearly failed her, but she could see Haylen to her right, face glowing. Play the part, Grey.
"Thank-you."
"Thanks aren't necessary," he said with a faint smile. "Just continue excelling at your duties, soldier."
And what duties are those? she wondered.
"Ad victorium, Knight."
"She doesn't even know what that means, Haylen," Rhys snapped.
The Paladin elected to ignore the tone. "'Ad victorium' means 'to victory'. In our eyes, defeat is unacceptable because we're fighting for the future of mankind. Our rallying cry is more powerful than any weapon you can ever carry. Remember that."
Damn, she was in deep. Nate and his infantry buddies always broke into chants after a few beers or shots, some incoherent mess of numbers and names and butchered Latin. She'd thought it moronic. Nate had accused her of not knowing what it was to belong to something. Clearly her membership to the Bar Association hadn't counted.
"Understood," she replied. Two centuries later and the military hadn't changed at all.
The Paladin dismissed Haylen and Rhys and gestured for Grey to follow him deeper into the station. She weaved through broken desks and traipsed into what she assumed was once the Police Chief's office. Grey placed a hand on the desk, testing its sturdiness, before leaning back against it. It held, making only the slightest groan.
The Paladin crossed his suit's arms, face pensive. "I'm not good at this, so I'll make it brief. Those reinforcements outside, the arrival of the fleet—its a testament to the work you can do, that we can do. I wasn't lying when I said you have potential. I wasn't lying in ArkJet, and I'm not lying now. But I am concerned with—"
"Paladin, security update—" The woman's words cut short as she spotted Grey over Danse's shoulder. She furrowed her sharp brows, the slightest of creases forming in her mocha skin. "Civilian," she greeted with about as much warmth as an Arctic breeze.
"It's Initiate," Danse corrected.
A muscle twitched in her cheek, but her expression remained unmoving.
"Apologies, Paladin. Initiate."
Grey didn't bother to respond.
"Grey, this is Knight Captain Daniels. This site of operations is now under her command, and you are expected to obey her directive whilst here."
Grey gave an obvious nod, not trusting her mouth to say anything that wasn't dripping in sarcasm.
She watched Daniels size her up like like one would a cut of veal. The way she peered across her nose made it look as though she was peering down at Grey, an impossibility as Grey had at least three inches on the woman. That wasn't to say Daniels was short; she was average height if not slightly taller. Grey had met few women taller than herself, and that suited her fine. She fancied looking up to no one, literally or figuratively.
Daniel's mouth twitched into a smirk. "Wasn't sure what to expect when you had me keeping an eye out for a female Vault dweller. I was expecting..." She shook her head. "Doesn't matter. I expect great things of you, Initiate, having been recruited by the Paladin." Her gaze hardened. "Don't disappoint."
Grey gave another nod, still not trusting herself to be audible.
So, she'd been expected. Grey wasn't sure what to make of that yet, but the lack of resistance she'd received at the gate made a great deal more sense.
After slinking away from the appliance shop, Grey had decided her best option was to strip down to the bare essentials, look as non-threatening as possible, and approach the police station like she belonged. Once upon a time she'd have opted for an air of importance or indifference; that and the right pair of designer shoes usually got her through any door she'd fancied. That tactic wasn't going to work anymore though, especially against power-armoured brutes. Instead she'd stashed her armour, rifles, and grenades in a blasted out refrigerator in one of the abandoned brownstones in College Square, and pulled on her Vault 111 jumpsuit. Nothing quite said harmless like institutionalized bunker-dweller chic, apparently. She'd kept one of her hip holsters and tied a red flannel around her waist. She'd holstered Deliverer, but made it obvious, pulling back the flannel such that the 10mm showed. She'd wanted to look innocuous, after all, not moronic.
She'd mentally rehearsed her act as she approached the barricade, but before she could speak, the power-armoured soldier—Daniels, she now knew—gave a nod and stepped aside. Not a word was exchanged, but Grey had enough of her wits about her to imagine that that was as close as the Brotherhood got to a red carpet welcome.
Grey thrummed her fingers against her thigh as Daniels gave the Paladin a brief status update before excusing herself. And then they were alone.
Silence stretched between them, which Grey easily relished in, but she could sense the discomfort radiating from Danse. He had a purpose in pulling her aside, a speech prepared, and now it was lost. She was fine with that, if only because the word 'concern' was so quickly being thrown around. She didn't need that, at least not this early in the game.
Grey stopped her thrumming and straightened her back. The desk gave a creak.
"If there's nothing else, Paladin, may I be excused?"
He considered her a moment, and she could imagine his lips uttering, "Dismissed." The word was all but spilling from his mouth. But then his expression changed, his eyes hardening, and Grey knew she wasn't escaping unscathed.
"In a moment, Initiate. What I wanted to discuss—and this is not to be taken as criticism—but I am questioning your motives for not only returning to us, but agreeing to join our ranks. It was... unexpected."
Grey fought the urge to smirk. It wasn't a genuine smirk and it never had been. More of an automatic response, one born of hours practising depositions, hours in mock trial scenarios, hours of lying to men, convincing them she may have once cared. Grey's emotions rarely bled to her face, but some opponents only required the slightest flicker of worry or rage to confirm that their doubts had some semblance of substance. It gave others an edge over her that she couldn't afford. So she forced herself to smile, to smirk, give the slightest glimmer or amusement or thrill when she was caught in a lie, or even when someone fumbled upon an inconvenient truth. At first it was a diversion tactic, but now it was part of her, a part no longer relevant in a rusted, irradiated world. Or was it?
"You're lying."
His brows ached as she watched him mentally take a step back. "Excuse me?"
"It wasn't unexpected," she said, squaring up to him. "Your actions speak otherwise. You knew, deep down, that I'd be back, because this is where I belong. You knew it long before I did, and you trusted that I'd figure it out, in time, if the Commonwealth didn't kill me first. That's why you told the Knight-Captain to keep an eye out for a Vault dweller. That, and you knew I was still alive."
Grey tilted her head towards the office's pre-war radio, the low hum of Diamond City Radio little more than static. "Travis is a bit of a sensationalist, but he means well."
The Paladin's brow remained furrowed, but she saw the intensity drain from his eyes. Grey gave the slightest smile, masking the maelstrom of anxiety coursing beneath her skin. The Paladin wasn't an idiot, she knew that, but she also knew the power of suggestive speech. She needed him to believe her, trust her, otherwise none of this would work. And she couldn't afford that. Shaun couldn't afford that.
"Perhaps there is... some truth to your words." He adverted his gaze from the radio and to a boarded up window. "I imagine you will want to take some time to settle in. Haylen can attend to any injuries you may have sustained, and Rhys can assist with any weapon maintenance. Beyond that, we are to hold this position until we receive orders from the Prydwen."
That word again. "The Prydwen?"
"Our airship. You likely saw it as it flew over Boston last night. I'll radio in that we are ready to move and awaiting their orders. Until then, we remain vigilant. Dismissed, Initiate."
Grey's legs twinged with the urge to leave, to flee, but she found herself studying the Paladin's face. A strange look of apprehension and longing twisted through his features and pulled at the muscles in his jaw. There was something there, in that ship, or on it. A connotation, a conflict, a person. Everyone had ghosts that haunted them. She could only wonder what shape the Paladin's took.
Giving him one last look, she quickly slipped away.
