########################################
########################################
Author's Note:
I know it's been at least a week, week and a half working on this. Work has been unreal, hammering me left and right. It's all with the holidays I suppose. I'm futzing with the damn spacers again too. Every time I check it they keep coming in the wrong way and it's driving me nuts, so hopefully I've put just the right amounts of "#" that even depending on the screens they look ok.
We're wrapping up the battle at Concord obviously, and pressing forward. I've been debating pairing changes and what not as I run through my editorial process but I guess we'll see where the flow of the story goes. I'm really trying to figure out what might be an appropriate time to introduce Jon into a possible relationship due the fact I'm pressing this adventure through maybe a few weeks in their time. As the reader, you know Maggie has been dead for decades but for Jon it's been a couple days. It's just tough trying to pin point but anyway, here's to chapter four!
-Wolf
########################################
########################################
Baptized by Fallout
########################################
Chapter Four
########################################
########################################
Jon felt like he'd just unlocked a secret boss level in this fresh hell as he watched a god damn nightmare unfurl before him. An intimidatingly large, muscled mottled gray fore limb ending in five curved talons pierced the steam vapors. It gripped the edge of the newly formed crater, the largest talon tapping reflexively on the pavement. The raiders had fallen silent, Jon didn't know if it was in awe or fear. It could have been both for all he knew, not that he wasn't feeling stunned himself by this turn of events.
The steam faded as the bulk of the vapors drifted into the atmosphere above. Pronounced black horns curved downward framing yellow, predatory eyes. It had a short snout, overtop of a toothy maw. Its nostrils flared, sharp teeth parting as a forked tongue like a snake flicked out, tasting the air. It gave off another throaty chortle that transitioned into a low hiss as the beast crawled from the hole on all fours. Spines stood tall and rigid down its length, its tail whipped excitedly behind it. Jon could see the finer details of it's scaly, ridged hide, like natural plate mail. It reminded him of an alligator.
The deathclaw reared back to its full, terrifying height and bellowed. The very air vibrated, there was no mistaking it. This was the terror from last night. It coiled its powerful hind legs and leapt through the air. An unfortunate raider screamed as the beast crashed down on him, bones crunching. Flesh tore, ripping in wet squelches as the creature struck with sweeping claws and gnashing teeth. The other raiders, as if they'd been under a spell came to their senses. Screams of panic filled the street as they began to run, tripping over one another to escape certain death.
The added frenzy drew the beast like a moth to a flame, it's predatory drive kicking into high gear as it charged on all fours into the mass of fleeing bodies. Limbs and other viscera began to quickly coat the street as the animal slaughtered without hesitation or mercy.
'Jesus Christ!' Jon swore.
He backed up towards an alley, utterly engrossed but horrified at the same time by the carnage. Jon struggled against his own nerves, his military experience being the only thing that kept him from fleeing in a blind panic like his former opponents. Preston must have been feeling less than charitable towards the raiders, as his musket hadn't sounded in awhile. As nightmarish as this turn of events were, Jon couldn't say it wasn't rather convenient timing.
Benny had said these monsters were rare in these parts, considering all the other shit that could be running around here this in and of itself was probably a huge blessing. He thought of all the times he claimed he fought the good fight for the freedom of the people he loved. He'd been in the wasteland less than forty-eight hours and already knew life here was hard. Didn't the scattered survivors here deserve the freedom to live their already difficult lives without fear of this ghastly reptile?
He couldn't in good conscious back out of this rumble, and let this THING continue to stalk the wastes. At least for Benny, the Quincy survivors, and Shaun's sakes when he eventually brought him home. Jon reaffirmed his grip on the minigun, steeled his nerves and stepped up, figuratively speaking.
The deathclaw had permitted few survivors, if any. The only escapees may have been the raiders that had been on the upper floor of the general store, or scrambled between the narrow alleys where it couldn't follow. The street was quiet now, save for the cackling fires of destroyed vehicles and the noisy gulps of the deathclaw as it swallowed fresh meat. It lay curled in the remains of the raiders it had sundered, tearing flesh from bodies, devouring whole chunks greedily. It must not have viewed Jon as a threat or prey as it had failed to turn it's rending claws on him…yet.
"HEY!" Jon's external speakers blared.
The beast stopped, muzzle dripping with blood. It chortled, horns turning towards Jon, yellow reptilian eyes regarded him intently. Maybe it'd never seen power armor before?
"Yes! You! The overgrown salamander!" Jon called out.
Its terrible maw parted, a low growl rolling out as it stood up on all fours. The deathclaw's tail whipped side to side menacingly. Jon looked at his HUD, the readout said his gun still held a little over half a drum. The barrels begun whirring as the gun spun up. The deathclaw's growl turned into bellowing roared as it charged Jon, claws carving deep grooves in the asphalt.
Jon rained lead down on the charging monstrosity, blood rose in quick spurts as the rounds bit into the creature's armored back but it showed no signs of stopping. He wasn't just going to be able to chunk it head on with firepower. He tried diving out of the way as the beast neared but power armor was not what you called agile. It shoulder-checked him with an audible thump, Jon felt his boots leave the ground. That familiar weightlessness returned, but Jon reckoned he wasn't going to enjoy this ride.
Brick and concrete crumbled under the weight of his armor as Jon landed on the half wall of a store front, broken glass rained down. Jon groaned inside his armor, it'd been a solid hit. Something heavy crashed on top of him, he felt his armor protest under the weight. The deathclaw had leapt on him, its yellow, blood stained maw filled his visuals. He felt its claws rake the outside of his armor, as it leaned down and roared in his face. It tried biting down on his helmet, but Jon grabbed its throat with his right hand to force it back. The hydraulics of his right arm screamed while the deathclaw slowly gained the upper hand though. Curved horns like black scythes scratched against his helmet.
A bolt of red lightning struck the terror in the side of the head, the trumpeting sound of Preston's rifle echoed. The animal reared its head with a pained hiss. It gave Jon a momentary reprieve…he eyed a large chunk of brick and mortar. He lunged for it as his reptilian adversary tried to introduce him to the inside of its gullet again. He shoved the hunk of masonry into the deathclaw's snapping maw, the beast violently pushed off of him as it fell back trying to dislodge the rubble trapped between its jaws.
Jon sifted through the rubble for his weapon, anxious to get hands on it after having been given a brief glimpse into what being a can of potted meat must feel like. Preston continued to scorch the Deathclaw's hide with laser fire. The beast huffed and groaned with every shot while it furiously clawed at its muzzle, its tail thrashed angrily. Jon spied the exposed ammo drum amongst the rubble, he pulled the weapon from the debris. Hobbling back into the street, Jon steadily regained his footing as he cleared the decimated wall. A wet tearing sound came from the deathclaw as the hunk of material fell from its mouth, it'd worked so hard to clear the blockage it had torn a couple of the yellow teeth from the corner of its jaw. It bellowed in a mixture of agony and bestial rage. Jon laid into the minigun, pushing forward, the barrels glowing like hot coals.
Blood and black marks dotted its dark colored hide. It wasn't impervious to harm, just exceedingly resilient. Jon focused the 5mm barrels towards its face, the animal recoiled away from the heavy fire. As it turned, it whacked Jon with its tail causing him to stagger back, throwing off his aim. It was of little consequence though as the Deathclaw stumbled, starting to feel the effects of its injuries.
Jon righted himself, trying bring his weapon back to bear. The reptile lashed out staggering him yet again, sparks flew as its claws skidded across his shell. Jon tried back up to create some working room but the creature pressed him. The old adage, never corner a wounded animal came to mind. The Deathclaw bowled him over, it loomed over him as it dived at him, bloody maw opened wide.
"Guess you didn't…" Jon grunted as he rolled to his feet, "LEARN!" he'd already started pulling down the trigger as he rammed the barrel down its open throat. He wrapped an armored mitt around an ebony horn and held on for dear life, he wasn't letting the lizard back off of this money shot. Predictably, the Deathclaw jerked back involuntarily to having a large, rapid-fire weapon shoved down its gullet, taking Jon along for the ride. Jon was swung side to side violently, as the minigun roared in the beast's mouth. Suddenly it stopped, eyes growing large. The deathclaw equivalent of shock?
The beast slowly…craned over. Their combined weight as they slammed into the pavement deafening. Jon breathed heavily under his armor, heart racing. Blood began flowing like a river from the deathclaw's slack jaw, gathering into an ever-expanding pool of crimson. It's wide, yellow eyes dull, lifeless. Jon pulled his weapon from its mouth, the barrel coated red, hunks of meat hanging off the end.
He kicked it with the toe of his boot…the animal's head lulled…nothing.
"Is it over?" a voice yelled.
Jon looked up towards Preston, still heaving the under armor he managed to give the minuteman a thumbs up.
"WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Preston crowed, "Good stuff! Head back in! We'll meet you downstairs!"
########################################
########################################
Jon met back up with the Quincy survivors in the foyer of the museum. It was a lot brighter thanks to an oil lamp Sturges brought down from the office. He flicked a switch near his actual hand, the suit depressurized as it split open, some of the plates groaning. It'd taken a brutal beating under the deathclaw's vicious assault. He dropped down, stepping back as the suit sealed up again.
He strode around the it, taking care to step over the minigun he laid on the floor. Jon surveyed the damage in the soft torchlight. Scorch marks from bullets and shrapnel marred the suit's already weathered exterior. Jon ran his fingers over a somewhat deep set of grooves on the right side of the torso, a memento of his deadly encounter with the wasteland's top predator.
"GOOD GOD!" Jon turned towards the voice, "That was incredible!" Preston beamed, "I almost wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it!" Preston held his hand high for a high five.
Jon met Preston's palm with his own, "Yeah, well I had a little help."
"A little cover fire was nothing compared to what you just did, all those raiders? And a DEATHCLAW? If we'd had more guys like you at Quincy, the Gunners wouldn't have stood a chance. Thank you,"
"Nothing ten years of combat experience in the US Army couldn't solve," Jon replied.
"I know it isn't much, but I do have some caps-" Preston tried to offer, but Jon threw his hands up.
"No, no. I shouldn't be paid for doing what a good man should. Keep your money, Preston,"
Sturges approached with Jon's gear, "All accounted for, safe and sound."
"Thanks for keeping an eye on it for me," Jon took his pack and rifle, setting them against the power armor, "Besides, this power armor is payment enough. It ought to make it pretty easy to get where I'm going," Jon added, looking back to Preston.
"No complaints here…I know you've got a mission, but we really could use your help here," the minuteman shifted on his feet, "Not everyone died at Quincy, some things happened…but with a little time, we could get in contact with others, rebuild the militia. Help you out,"
"Time is the one thing I'm afraid I don't have Preston. I have no idea how old the trail is, my son needs me,"
Preston gazed thoughtfully for a moment, "I understand. I would come help you…but I'm still needed here," He motioned to the others.
Jon looked around at the survivors, "I understand too. I'll be okay…somehow."
Mama Murphy had quietly been observing the conversation from a stool Jun had brought down for her. She tired often. She was old, so very old in a world that shouldn't be possible in. She rummaged in her sleeve, feeling for the one dose of jet she'd kept hidden from Preston for this very moment. The old woman pressed the inhaler to her lips.
"MAMA MURPHY! NO!" Preston shouted, the group all turned.
It was too late, she depressed the vial inhaling the chems deep into her lungs. The high rushed over her, bringing a flood of images, both familiar and unfamiliar. Tidbits of conversation, things that were to come. The sight guided her to what she sought, and Mama Murphy spoke:
"Your son…he's alive. I can feel…I can feel his energy,"
Jon felt a little irritated…but he thought back to when she uttered Maggie's name, a little flicker of hope burned inside him.
"Where is he? Can you tell me Mama Murphy?"
"I'm…not certain…go to the bright, green jewel of the Commonwealth…Diamond City! You need to find a…heart! The bright heart that walks the lonely alleys…the bright heart will show you the way!"
"Please Mama Murphy, I need more," Jon pleaded, he fell to his knees in front of her, clasping the old woman's hand.
Mama Murphy groaned, pulling her hand from Jon's grasp, "I'm sorry kid…that's it. Mama Murphy needs to rest for a while. The sight takes a lot out of me…if you get me more chems, I might can, but later…"
Jon sighed, standing up and marching towards his armor with renewed purpose.
"You taking off already?" Sturges asked him.
"Yeah," He answered briskly, turning the entry valve.
Jon's armor came back to life as it sealed around him, "Where are all you headed to now?" blared the suit's speakers.
"Mama Murphy's been going about sanctuary for weeks now, been saying we're real close," Sturges turned sideways, jerking his thumb towards the old woman.
"We ARE! It's not far at all! Just over the hills!" she exclaimed.
"Sanctuary…Hills?" Jon finished.
"Yes!"
Preston looked towards Jon, "You know it?"
"I lived there…a long time ago with my family…"
"Right, sorry," Preston said sheepishly, "It makes sense though, she's been directing us to "sanctuary" ever since we left Quincy."
"It's not in great shape, still a few standing houses. There's a ghoul living there now, Benny,"
He could see Marcy Long wrinkle her nose, Jon frowned under his helmet. She really seemed an unpleasant person.
"He's a good fella, let me crash for a night and hooked me up with some provisions…be nice to him,"
"Any friend of yours is a friend of ours," Sturges said with a thumbs up.
"Undoubtedly," Preston added.
"I'm gonna get moving, I want to get to Diamond City before dark," Jon slung the rifle over his rear, the weapon magnetizing to his armor. His pack looked a little silly also slung over his now bulky shoulder. He picked up the minigun, the weapon was nearing empty but could still be useful.
"I told Benny I'd be back when I found Shaun. Maybe you all will help him make it look more like a neighborhood again,"
"No promises, but I'll try," Sturges mused.
Jon looked over the survivors one last time, his boots thudding heavily as he turned towards the open doors.
"Safe travels Jon," he heard Preston call out behind him.
"Thanks, you all take care of yourselves," waving his hand goodbye.
########################################
########################################
Jon decided to travel south from Concord to pass up Lexington after having heard Preston's warnings. Avoiding swarms of feral ghouls and possibly more raiders was an appealing idea, he didn't want to spend unnecessary time and supplies on bullshit. The smaller roads still lead towards Boston. It would be less headache overall, he had surmised.
He'd passed an older, tired looking woman on the road. A mutated pack animal trailed behind her, cargo weighing heavily on its back, Jon was kind of amazed to see a two headed cow. Something like that would have been fare at a circus freak show. The heads moved independently of the other, snorting and huffing like each was its own animal. Jon and the woman had regarded each other albeit she did more so warily as she continuously puffed a cigarette, a dreary look permanently inscribed upon her face.
That was the only interaction he'd had since leaving Concord. Other than that, he had pressed on, somewhat enjoying the solitude of this strange new land.
The sun sat high overhead, Jon estimated it was around midafternoon. Keeping this pace, he might make the stadium before nightfall. Of course, he didn't know what he would do then. He thought of Mama Murphy's vision…find the bright heart. It was such an ambiguous clue, if it even was a clue. It could have just been the ramblings of an elderly addict…but she had known Maggie's name.
Maybe he should adopt an attitude more like that Sturges guy he thought. He had said living with the old seer had opened his mind to stranger concepts. Jon's life in the last two days alone should have been reason enough. Never mind cultural history was rife with legends and tales of people who could do amazing, unexplainable things. Maybe it was this world's way of evening out the ridiculous imbalances it had allowed to take place in nature…no, nature didn't allow this. Man allowed this, or rather man caused all of this he thought.
He heard a loud commotion up ahead, drawing Jon from his thoughts. A small gathering of people outside of a building engaged in a furious shouting match with guns…which seemed to be the norm in this world. Jon chuckled to himself, realizing it was a Drumlin Diner of all things. Well, HIS Drumlin Diner actually. He thought of trips to Boston with Maggie. They'd stop here for breakfast a lot, best six-dollar breakfast in the whole Commonwealth.
"You can fuck off Wolfgang! I'm not giving you shit, you got my son hooked on that filth! He can't hardly talk he's got the shakes so damn bad!" an older, dark haired lady yelled, shaking a full size 12-gauge shotgun.
"I didn't give your dumb ass son nothing he ain't ask for! And my chems ain't free, I want my fucking caps Trudy!" a man yelled back, punctuated by thrusts of his revolver.
His face was rough, he wore a leather jacket, looking like the greaser type. His female companion, a dark-skinned woman who looked more in line with the raiders Jon had seen, she menaced with a sawed off much like the one strapped to Jon's leg.
"Over my dead body you chem pushing piece of shit! MERCY! GET OUT HERE!" the woman screamed back towards the diner.
A dark figured emerged from the open doorway, their boots clacking lightly down the diner steps. A black helmet, with red tinted lenses hid their face. A ragged poncho was draped across their body obscuring most of their form from view. The overhead sun glinted off the drum mag of the combat shotgun they brandished in their hands.
"You called Trudy?"
They used a voice modulator. This seemed like a different breed of waste walker than Jon had seen so far.
"You brought FUCKING MERCY out here? You coulda gave me the damn caps for that and we'd be good you DUMB BITCH!" Wolfgang growled.
"I told you shitbag! I ain't giving you one lousy, fucking cap! Kill'em Mercy! The wasteland's better off without this piece of shit!"
"I owed you a favor Trudy but I don't kill for free. That being said, Wolfgang, you've been useful in the past…" the mercenary leveled their shotgun, "I'd rather not have to punch your clock…so why don't you call this a tax write off and be on your way?"
"Oh, hell no Mercy, that's bad business, and honestly, I ain't that fucking scared of you!"
The group turned as they heard the heavy footfalls of Jon's power armor. The chem dealer and his companion looked very concerned at his arrival, eyeing his armor and minigun. The black clad mercenary gave no indication if they were worried.
The woman, Trudy pointed at Jon, "You! I'll PAY you to plant this fucking creep right now!"
Jon didn't reply, unsure of how to take the situation. He'd heard a bit of the ruckus as he approached, he felt for the woman's predicament but he didn't want to waste rounds for this…and maybe he didn't have to.
"What say you, tin man, wanna get your hands dirty?" the mercenary asked.
"I'd rather not waste my bullets…" Jon pointed to the gouges in his armor, "I just spent enough of them killing a shit ton of raiders…and a deathclaw," then he pointed at Wolfgang, "But that doesn't mean I have to," he added, making a fist.
Jon watched Wolfgang's nostrils flare at the threat, but the man definitely swallowed his pride. Mercy was legend enough around these parts, but he knew his little pipe gun wasn't going to do shit against this guy.
"Fine, fucking fine but I better not see your broke ass, junkie son come crawling my way. You hear me Trudy?"
"Fuck off," she said sternly.
"C'mon Simone, shit ain't worth it."
He turned away, the dark-skinned woman following him. The rest of the group waited, giving them time to clear earshot.
Trudy whirled on Mercy, "Why didn't you fucking kill him? I WANT HIM DEAD MERCY,"
"He's got his uses Trudy, I know you're mad about Patrick, but really, he made his choice. Wolfgang's scummy, but he doesn't force anything on anyone. He's too chicken shit to cross me anyway, it was all an act…here," the mercenary reached back behind his folds and produced an inhaler similar to one Jon had seen Mama Murphy use.
"He doesn't need more of that SHIT!"
"It's not jet Trudy, it's addictol. Just give it to him, it'll help with the shakes,"
Trudy hesitated, before she grabbed it and strode angrily towards the diner.
"And Trudy…"
The woman stopped, turning towards the merc.
"We're square,"
"Yeah, whatever," she turned back to the building, disappearing inside.
The mercenary turned back towards Jon, "Nice suit…where'd you get it?"
"Found it, I don't really have time to talk," Jon started to lumber past him.
"You going to Diamond City?"
He paused, armor whirring as he turned back.
"Yeah, why?"
"If you take the road in from here you're going to run into trouble, not that I think you can't handle it, but there's an easier way,"
"You going to show me or do I have to pay?" Jon asked.
"I'll take the caps if you're offering, a tip is always nice,"
"I'm not from around here," Jon lied, "I don't have the local currency,"
"Shame, I guess you can just owe me," the mercenary glided past him.
Jon watched them walk by, the figure stopping a short distance from him, "You coming? I'd like to get back before dark."
########################################
########################################
They had traveled in silence, something Jon was thankful for. He didn't feel like explaining his sob story to every soul he encountered. The stranger had taken him off the beaten path to an old railway that they continued following south. Jon had watched Boston grow closer with each step. The closer they got, the louder sounds of combat had echoed across the waterway.
"That's a daily occurrence, it's rare to hear little more than the wind most days," Mercy stated.
The sun was starting to get low as they arrived at another highway that intersected the train tracks, Mercy motioned for Jon to follow them as him, Jon assumed they were male anyway, turned on the road. Mercy was true to their word, they had encountered no problems thus far.
"This road leads straight to Diamond City, the raiders and other idiots don't usually pose a problem here because of the guards,"
"Uh huh…so…you're a mercenary?" Jon asked, finally having enough of the quiet.
"I prefer contractor,"
"Right, got a particular specialty?"
"No, jobs are a case by case basis,"
Their answers were short, simple. Jon sensed this person was a veteran of combat much like himself, he wondered exactly what kind of human being was beneath all that gear.
"What are you? Some scav?"
"No, I'm looking for something," Jon answered.
"Everyone out here is looking for something,"
"Say…I wanted to hire you?"
The mercenary stopped, and turned to face him. Jon towered over them in his armor but he couldn't help feeling small, like an insect under a microscope as the mercenary scrutinized him. It'd been an honest question, Jon needed someone that knew how this world worked, someone that knew how to fight.
"You already said you don't have any caps, what are you offering?"
"I guess…the suit?"
"No, not my style. What else you got?"
"I've got some provisions, tobacco?"
"Obviously you don't have anything worth my time then," Mercy began to continue the path towards Diamond City when Jon spoke again, "Is there someone I could sell the suit to then?"
Mercy was silent, as though he were stunned by the suggestion.
"You do understand how valuable that armor is correct? Power armor is hard to come by, a full suit is almost unheard of,"
"I have an idea, yeah,"
"There's an arms dealer in the city, he'll likely cut you a deal but I doubt he can match the full value,"
"I don't care, walking around in this thing is bound to attract attention I don't need anyway. If I can hawk it to pay you then so be it. I need better gear too,"
"Alright, what's the job?"
Jon thought about how to phrase it, he'd been fairly forthcoming so far…but maybe now was the time to start controlling the flow of information. Mercenaries even is his time were seedy, swayed by the highest offer.
"I'm trying to track down a man, he killed my wife and stole something important to me. I aim to take it back,"
"What's his name?"
"I don't know, I was incapacitated at the time…but he's bald, with a long scar here," Jon mimicked the scar down his metal face.
"Hm…how long ago?"
"I'm not sure how old the trail is…"
"So, to understand, a bald gun, with a scar killed your wife and stole something valuable to you, and you want it back?"
"Well, putting a bullet between his eyes is a goal too,"
"Understandable…thirty caps a day, plus food, ammo and any other expenses. That's my price, as long as you pay me, my gun is yours and yours alone," Mercy crossed their arms under their poncho.
"Sounds like a deal," Jon extended a giant mitt, Mercy shook his armored digits best he could.
"We have an accord, come on, let's go,"
They began walking again, Jon was starting to see signs pointing out Diamond City ahead. The closer they got, the more automated turrets he saw every where. Soon he could see guys wearing what he swore were bulked up umpire pads for armor, they all carried the same shitty kind of pipe weapons the raiders had used. The area certainly seemed to be regularly patrolled and defended.
Jon had a thought as they drew closer to their destination, "Hey Mercy," he called out over his speakers.
"Yes?"
"You never asked for my name,"
"I do the shooting, I don't need it,"
"That's ludicrous, how are we supposed to work effectively then?"
Mercy sighed, "Make no mistake, you've hired me, but don't think you're going to get me killed. You will follow my lead or I'll terminate this contract here and now."
Jon's pride stung a little, "I'm not some hapless scav," a touch of annoyance underlined his tone.
"I don't doubt it but you're also looking for revenge…which makes you emotional. Emotional people make mistakes, mistakes get people killed, ergo…I'm in charge. If you can't make that work for you, I'm not the gun for you,"
"…Yeah, fine. You can call the shots but I'm not gonna be a bystander…my name is Jon,"
"Hm," the mercenary grunted.
"What?"
"Nothing, I just had you pegged for something else,"
"Like what?"
"Something like George, or Dave,"
"Well, "Mercy" can't be your real name…"
"It is for you,"
"Why "Mercy"?"
"Cause it's the only thing I don't sell,"
Jon chuckled, "Ok, I get it. Fits your "persona" then."
"A reputation is just another weapon,"
"Yeah, it sure seemed like it back at the diner…" Jon waved his gun barrel.
"I've slapped Wolfgang around enough he knows better, despite his bravado. Whether you happened by or not, he'd have left,"
They approached the enormous green wall of Fenway Park, Diamond City. Jon remembered attending a few Red Sox games here, the stark contrast of eager fans pouring into the stadium versus barricades, turrets, and roving patrols was staggering. They walked the wall's length, eventually arriving at the main entrance. The massive gate to the stadium was up, as it often would be in the off season. A woman in a long, red coat shouted at the intercom.
"Damn it, Danny Sullivan! You open this damn gate right now! Or I swear I'm gonna mess you up!" her frustration was palpable.
"I'm sorry Piper, but Mayor McDonough is really steamed about that piece you wrote. He said not to let you back in…" the intercom crackled.
"So, what? You're just gonna leave me out here to die, Danny? What about Nat? You gonna toss her out too?"
The intercom lay silent. Piper punched it angrily, crossing her arms. She turned with an irritated sigh, scowling. Her expression changed as she noticed Jon and Mercy approaching, she waved them over excitedly.
"You better open up Danny, your best friend, Mercy just walked up. Do you really wanna piss him off?" she asked mockingly.
It crackled again, "Yeah right Piper, nobody's seen that guy in weeks!"
"Hmph…are you suggesting someone finally buried me…Mr. Sullivan? Or do I need to break your arm again?"
"SHIT! Uh no, no, not all Mr. Mercy, sir! I'm opening the gate, uh, right now," the intercom stuttered.
The gate rumbled as the gears started shifting below, slowly the gate began sinking into the pavement.
"Causing problems again Piper?" Mercy deadpanned.
"No more than usual," Piper laughed, "You know McDonough, has to pull the wool over everyone's eyes to protect his "pristine" reputation."
She eyed Jon, whistling at his armor.
"Who's the metal guy?"
"New employer,"
"Huh…" she mused, "Where you from stranger?
Thankfully Jon didn't have to answer as another voice boomed over them.
"Who lowered this gate! I told that Sullivan not let you back in Piper Wright! Causing problems with that trashy rag you call a newspaper! I've had enough!"
It belonged to a portly older man in a pinstriped suit and matching hat, his gray mustache wriggled as he shouted, wagging his finger at the dark-haired woman.
"You know what I've had enough McDonough!" Piper clenched her fists, "…is a mayor who pretends nothing's wrong while people suffer! A mayor that prefers EVERYONE live in blissful ignorance to the problem around us!" she growled.
"I'm going to have that printing press stripped for parts! And you and that sister of yours are-' the mayor thundered, cut off before he could finish his threat.
"ENOUGH!" Jon started, his speakers drowning the man out, "This might be a toxic wasteland but it's still America! Pretty shitty when a mayor tosses someone out over free speech!"
McDonough paled a little, he'd been so focused on Piper he didn't noticed Jon's imposing metal form.
"I agree…last I remembered Diamond City was a free settlement…McDonough,"
Nor had he noticed Mercy's dark figure standing in Jon's shadow.
"Uh…huh well yes! Yes it is! We are a free, and PEACEFUL city but…we have our fair share of, uh "troublemakers"," he said with emphasis to Piper.
"Tell you what mayor," Mercy patted his shoulder, "I'll OVERLOOK this,"
The mayor swallowed, the meaning of the mercenary's words, clear.
"Yes, uh quite…thank you," he stepped to the side, granting entry.
Mercy beckoned, Jon followed as did Piper but not before flipping McDonough the bird with a sneer. The old man snarled and shook his fist in turn.
They passed the turnstiles into the wide corridor. Piper caught up to Jon, having to jog lightly to match the stride of his suit. Mercy seemed to effortlessly glide in front of him.
"So…America, huh?"
Jon remained silent.
"Uh huh, when you peel yourself outta that suit, why don't you come by my office?"
"Why would I do that?" he asked.
"Oh come on, I know you're from a vault. I'd love to interview a vault dweller!"
"What makes you think that?"
"Nobody refers to this place as "America" except prewar ghouls and vault dwellers, and since you don't sound like you gargled battery acid you gotta be a vault dweller," Piper deduced.
"Plausible theory Piper," Mercy stopped, facing the two, "You've been holding back details Jon…I don't like that."
"I gave you the important "details", where I come from is none of your, OR yours," he added turning to Piper, "Business."
"When you withhold information, it makes me question the validity of your cause. Out with it," the mercenary stood firm.
Jon grimaced, he couldn't read his new employee for the helmet. He wondered if Mercy felt the same watching his steel visage. Piper stood with baited breath, waiting for his answer.
"Fine, but do we have to do it here with the local news girl?" Jon grumbled.
"HEY! News woman! Thank you very much!" Piper interjected.
"If it needed to be secret you should have told me earlier. Everything has a price,"
Jon frowned, "For someone I'm supposed to be paying you sure do impose a lot of terms."
"When you're as good as I am you can do that, and for the record you haven't paid me…yet,"
"And Mercy is legend, McDonough and the guards fear him for a reason," Piper added with a raised finger.
Jon let out a deep sigh, he couldn't believe he was being drawn over a barrel like this. He could walk, but there would still be the possibility of rumors, plus he'd have to find another guide.
"Alright, alright, fine. I'm from a vault,'
"YES! I knew it!" Piper said with an excited whisper.
"It was a trick, the vault I came from was a cryogenic facility. I'm over 200 years old,"
Piper's jaw was starting to hang, "NO WAY! YOU'RE PREWAR?"
"Not so loud Piper," Mercy chided, "Continue."
"At some point, what I told you about happened. I had to watch, and couldn't do shit about it. What the guy took, wasn't a thing. It was my son, he's only a year old."
"Someone kidnapped your baby boy?" Piper's eyes were wide, she slapped Mercy's elbow, "This is what I've been writing about! How McDonough won't help anyone! He just shuts me down!"
"Things are a little clearer now, that's why you were unsure about the trail," Mercy sounded thoughtful.
"Yes,"
"Are you gonna take him to see Nick?" Piper looked at Mercy.
"I'd considered it, Nick's network could supplement my own. I have an idea of who, but the man is a ghost," the mercenary mused.
"You know who that fuckstick is!?" Jon's eyes narrowed, he leaned down so that his visor was even with Mercy's, "Give me his fucking name," Jon hissed.
"It wouldn't do you any good,"
"I don't fucking care," Jon bunched up Mercy's poncho pulling the merc to him.
He heard a soft clang under his chin. Mercy had produced an SMG from within his folds and pushed the barrel up against the neck joint, a vulnerable spot indeed.
"Whoa! Whoa!" Piper slid in between the two, "Oh man, I can't believe I'm doing this," as she futilely tried to push Jon back, "If Mercy said he's going to help you, he's going to help you. I know he's a merc, but as far as mercs go he's a pretty honorable one."
"I told you that you were emotional, this is exactly what I was talking about," Mercy growled over his modulator.
Jon breathed heavily, he couldn't help it. He kept hearing Maggie cry out, and the echo of a .44 slug. Rage was coursing through him like a live wire. His nerves were on fire, he felt raw.
"Hey! Hey, you! Shit, Mercy, what's his name?"
"Jon."
"Thanks, Jon! Jon! Look at me!" Piper waved her arms like she was a matador flagging a metal bull, slowly Jon's helmet craned down to look at her, "Yeah, that's it…right here buddy, just focus on me, we don't need a war zone here, breathe,"
Waving her arms had been enough to pull his focus off Mercy. Jon focused on trying to breathe. Gradually, he began to steady himself. His heart rate decreased, his mind stopped swimming with thoughts of 111. He quit hearing the echo of Maggie's killer. Jon's frayed nerves stopped jolting. He released Mercy's garb and stepped back.
After a moment, he spoke, "…sorry."
Piper sighed with relief, "Whew!" she mocked wiping her brow, "That was, uh, a little intense there."
Mercy raised a solitary finger, "Don't you EVER, threaten me again."
An awkward silence settled over them.
"So anyway, I guess you guys are off to Nick's?" Piper said, doing her best to break the silence.
"No…we're going to try and catch Arturo. He needs to sell the suit to pay me,"
"Ok! Well…guess I'll tag along!" she quipped.
They exited the corridor. Jon had been hanging his head, a bit embarrassed by his lack of self-control but he looked about with interest as they moved into the interior of the stadium. The field had been transformed into a giant shanty town, he almost didn't recognize the diamond. They'd even built kind of high rises into the upper stands.
Piper noticed his gaze, "Even in a dump like this we have rich and poor, I'll give you one guess whose living up there and it doesn't rhyme with "more"," she rolled her eyes.
They traversed down the steps, a somewhat permanent installation having been made at the end of the stands steps to reach down into the former baseball field. The first building they came to had a big sign out front, "Publick Occurrences". A suspiciously familiar looking young girl stood outside with a sign yelling "Extra, extra!". She dropped her sign as they approached, "PIPER!" she cried, running up and hugging the older woman.
Piper laughed, "Hey Nat, sell enough copies today?" she smiled.
"Most of them. You've been gone ALL day, where have been? You get in some trouble again?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," Piper joked as she ruffled the girl's hair.
Nat swatted her away, "Piper! Knock it off!" she whined before looking up to the stoic mercenary, "Hey Mercy, bailing her out again?"
Piper scoffed, "Not at all!"
"Hm…no kid. Your sister's a big girl," Mercy said, slightly amused.
She looked at Jon with wide eyes, "WOW! Power armor! AND a minigun! That's so freaking awesome!" Nat pushed away from Piper to walk circles around him as she looked him over.
"This is my little sister, Nat. Nat, this is Jon," Piper introduced them.
"Yeah, I see that," he said as Jon watched Nat poked and prodded his suit.
She ran her hand over the gouges in his torso, "What did that?" Nat asked.
"An overgrown lizard,"
Nat clapped her hands over her open mouth, "A deathclaw!"
"Yeah,"
"Holy cow!" she tugged excitedly on Piper's sleeve, "He fought a deathclaw!"
"And won," Jon added with an unseen smirk.
"That is so cool!" Nat wailed.
"He's also a vault dweller…I'm sure Jon will be happy to tell you ALL about it later," Piper stared at Jon, the implications of her statement not lost on him.
"WOW! Really? Please!" the little girl begged.
"You never stop, do you?" Jon sighed.
"For a story? Never," came Piper's sly smile.
"Worry about your story later, we have business," Mercy started walking again.
"Right, Nat, be home later. I'll get something from Takeshi for you," Piper winked, ruffling the girl's hair again.
"STOP! Get me some dumplings, ok?"
They moved deeper into the "city". Jon's lumbering frame attracting eyes and hushed whispers as predicted.
He had seen several makeshift shops. A rudimentary clinic that made him uneasy, Jon had been in field hospitals that were cleaner. A butcher, with various cutlets of strange meats he didn't recognize. Actual barbers, a legitimate clothing store that he couldn't see into. It was more like a village square he supposed. In the center was a looked like some kind of open-air restaurant manned by a single protectron in a chef's hat. Mercy led them around, passing by some miscellaneous trader before stopping in front of stall occupied by a solitary, Hispanic man.
"Arturo," Mercy greeted him.
He broke out in a big grin and spread his arms wide, "Mercy mi amigo, always good to see you. Who is your new companion?" Arturo motioned to Jon.
"New client, he's looking to downgrade,"
The arms dealer raised an eyebrow as he stroked his chin, "Is this true señor?"
"Suit attracts too much attention, I'd like to be a little less…noticeable,"
"Hm, with protection like what could you have to worry about?" Arturo laughed.
"Not so much worry as concealment," Jon replied.
Arturo smirked, and disappeared into his stall. He emerged from a closed door beside it, "Well then amigos, right this way!" as he held the door wide, an open invitation to enter his shop.
The inside of Arturo's establishment was somewhat deceiving from its street side appearance. Inside was much bigger, more like a small warehouse. Crates were stacked in every corner and full weapon racks of all types lined the walls. Arturo even had some power armor stations with frames already in them, one was bare while the other bore a few pieces that Jon recognized as T-51 model armor. He noticed the man didn't appear to deal in the ridiculous pipe guns he'd seen so far.
"I've never been in here," Piper whispered to Mercy.
"That's because Arturo doesn't like people knowing exactly what he's got in here," Mercy replied.
Arturo chuckled, "Well amigos, I can't really have every waste walker for miles knowing what I have, I trust Mercy, so I also trust Senora Wright, that this will remain between us?"
Piper smiled sheepishly causing Arturo to frown.
"Piper…" Mercy trailed.
"Ok! OK!"
Jon whistled, "This is certainly an impressive armory…"
"No señor, not armory, a store. An impressive store, that has taken me many years and dealings to amass, and speaking of dealings…" he motioned to Jon.
"Right," Jon said as he dropped the minigun, also removing his combat rifle and pack as he prepared to exit the armor.
Arturo watched with interest as the armor peeled open, noting how it groaned as it did so, "I take it you had quite an adventure on your way here?"
Jon backed off of the suit as it sealed up again, he stretched, feeling a little sore after having been cooped in there for so long.
"Well, well, he's not so scary looking after all," Piper teased, smirking.
Jon rolled his eyes, waving her off. Arturo approached the suit, examining it carefully.
"Yeesh, amigo. What were you doing? Wrestling super mutants?" he ran his fingers over the gouges and dents in the plates.
"Uh no, deathclaw actually..."
Chuckling again, Arturo looked at him, "Really señor? Not an easy target,"
"No, it wasn't," Jon shrugged.
"Fortunately, I have been trying to piecemeal a suit together for a client for some time…but uh, it's been extremely slow going as you can see," Arturo pointed to the T-51.
"Fortune smiles upon me I guess,"
"With certainty, I will have to repair these damages…but I think I can give you a good price,"
"I need better gear too, can we come to maybe some kind of trade as well as money?" Jon asked.
"I can certainly work with you, amigo, please, take a look," Arturo waved his hand over his wares.
"Right, let's get shopping."
########################################
########################################