Quincy Ruins, September 22, 2289, 7:49pm

"The hell is taking him so long? It's been almost fifteen fuckin' minutes."

"Him? Jimmy's always takin' his sweet time. Probably wanted to take a shit while he was at it."

The gunner turned around from the window, an unlit cigarette hanging loosely in his mouth and the dim candle light casting his shadow on the ground.

"Tell him to-"

"To what?"

"What the f-"

The gunner immediately found himself staring down the barrel of a modified 10mm handgun, and a person clad in a full red-visored face mask, black jumpsuit and matching combat armor. In his panic, he managed to note dark brown hair tied in a bun and the bodily features of a woman. The two people in the room with him were down on the ground in a small pool of blood, still alive but bound to die soon.

"W-who the hell are-"

"I'm not sure you're in the position to be asking questions." The woman remarks. "But since you're being so cooperative, call me Darling ."

That name… he recognized that name. "You're her ?" The man's heart skipped a beat and he gulped heavily, sweat beading down his forehead like a coursing river.

"Now that we know each other, down to business. All you need to know is if you move, you're toast. If you so much as place a finger on that distress pulser, I'm putting a bullet in your eye socket."

The man shook in his boots, terrified at the sight and implications. Just who the hell is she? How'd she get through all the boys? Where the hell is Jimmy?

"I will, however, let you finish your smoke... Just answer some questions, yeah?"

"I g-guess."

"Good."

The gunner hesitantly put a lighter to his mouth and cupped his hands around it. The woman took a few steps back and leaned against a nearby wall.

"So why rough up some rich Diamond District prick? Who sent you?"
"Some other rich-ass in the city... I- it was easy money"

"Was it a coincidence that on the night you paid Ann Codman a visit, some poor vagrant was found beaten half to death on the upper stands?"

"..."

"How about the fact that some bourgeois Mr. Handy was found in a pile of its own scrap?"

"H-he was pissin' me the hell off..."

Huh... you and me both , Darling thought to herself. "That aside, hand over that pulser; wouldn't want your friends from outside of Quincy coming in."

"B-backup just for one merc?"

The terrified gunner handed over the pulser to the woman; watching in defeat as she threw it into the ground; falling apart and making some sparks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a man run to the building. It wasn't much, but his backup had just arrived. Fuckin' Jimmy and his tardy ass...

"Hey... uh have you seen Jimmy?" The hostage asked the merc.

"Jimmy-"

Suddenly, the door to the room swung wide open and a man barged in with a knife in hand. "The fuck is goin' on here?!" he shouted.

"Get the bitch!"

Jimmy ran towards the woman against the wall and the hostage gunner suddenly lunged for his .44 on the table. He tried to point it at the woman but-

BANG!

"GAHHH! FUCK!"

Dropping his gun in pain and staring at the hole in his hand, Darling took the opportunity and slammed a right side kick to his face, which hit him square and broke his nose.

Jimmy hesitated midway and averted his eyes, having been startled by the muzzle flash and the sudden scream of pain. When he had regained his composure, he charged and switched his knife grip to reverse. He attempted to stab the mercenary from a downward angle but to his chagrin, he suddenly felt his left wrist being wrenched, forcing him to drop his knife.

"AGH!"

Jimmy attempted to punch the woman with his free hand but she intercepted with a quick knee to the gut; knocking the wind out of him. Suddenly, he felt a forearm clothsline him across the throat and his feet being swept from under him. He fell flat on the ground, landing head-first. The woman kept a hold on his arm and forcefully put her foot on his windpipe, applying steady pressure but not enough to choke him out.

"You Jimmy?"

"Yeah... w-who's askin'?"

"Just curious."

The woman stared a hole straight through him. There was enough commotion now that she could hear the other gunners rushing over to see what had happened. It wasn't safe for her, she had to take the next step. Suddenly, she put a finger to her ear.

"All done. Bringing them down." She looked at Jimmy and his partner to assess their state. "Alright gentlemen, we're moving out." She picked the two up and prodded their weakened selves at gunpoint outside Quincy Church. Just outside the church, they noticed three more of their comrades knocked out and slumped against the church entrance.

Jimmy scoffed. "Move out huh? The rest are gonna fuck you up."

"Really?" she said cockily, "You might wanna cover your ears then."

All of a sudden, several white, futuristic-looking vertibirds decloaked and projected spotlights on the ground.

"Go! Go! Go!"

Rear hatches on the vertibirds opened and figures in pure white power armor jumped down, living up to their designations as shock troopers.

"Move out move out!" light filled the upper highway overlooking the town, blue and red beams shot out towards each other, and the blue beams eventually outnumbered the red before they ceased entirely. Next, footsteps surrounded the merc and her prisoners as the air rifted around them, followed by a familiar and terrible sight: Gen 2 Synth Troopers.

Screaming and gunfire filled the air. Jimmy looked back and saw a blinding suit of T-45a under a spotlight, firing a laser shotgun into a group of entrenched gunners before a couple Coursers (the rifts in the air) uncloaked and buried fusion energy into them.

The merc poked Jimmy's back as he slowed down. He promptly continued walking away from the scene along with his buddy. Their heads were both down as if it were they who were being fired upon. "So what was that about fucking me up?" Darling remarked slyly.

"Hahh... I get it, jeez."

A figure in a blue trench coat and a tricorne hat walked towards Darling, flanked by a couple more synths: the local Minuteman sergeant.

"We'll take it from here, merc, here's your pay." The sarge tossed Darling a bag of Institute coins minted with the symbol of the Vitruvian Man. She weighed it in her hand and pushed the two men towards the synths, who promptly restrained them and took them God knows where, never to be seen again.

"Oh and there's two more upstairs plus the three behind us." says Darling.

"Five more, huh? Eh, here ya go." The sarge reaches back into his jacket and pulled out a smaller bag to toss her way.

"Much obliged," she replied, proceeding to make her way as far away from the gunfight as possible. But just before leaving the scene, she turned to the sarge, took off her earpiece, and handed it over to the man.

"I don't know if you were told, but you can keep that, you know?" the man said with some confusion.

"I know," She smugly said as she turned away and made her way westward. The noises from the warzone grew to be somewhat quiet, the sounds of lasers and gunfire turning into muffled fireworks once she got some distance.

"Time to turn in, I guess. I can get the other reward from Codman tomorrow."

Darling stretched a little bit to ease her tense joints and pulled out her Pip-Pad to mark her destination.

Brotherhood Splinter Bunker, 9:45pm

"Coming in."

The mercenary announced as she opened the door to the bunker. She was greeted by a blonde woman conversing with two wastelanders.

"Hey, Abby. Hold on a sec." the woman said as she turned to the wastelanders. Abby did so, proceeding to lean against the wall beside the door.

"Here you go." Sarah spoke benevolently as she handed over a box of medical supplies to the teenage boy. "This should be enough to treat your father. Our doctor says he should be better in about a week with regular doses. If his symptoms get worse or something else happens, bring him here, okay?

"Thank you so much, Elder Lyons." The slightly older girl said, while her brother carrying the box nodded nervously. The pair then left without saying a word. Abby shifted from her leaning position from the wall.

"The whole Mother Teresa act suits you," Abby teased once they were gone.

"I was actually thinking of renaming this splinter into the Living Saints . What do you think?" Sarah Lyons, Elder of the Brotherhood of Gold and Steel (at least she was for a day) joked, still putting boxes in their place under the counter.

"Thanks, I hate it."

"Even more than..."

"Even more than Lyons' Pride. "

Sarah sighed in amusement. She was in her usual working outfit (sleeveless military fatigues), a little wrinkled and dirty from a hard days' work helping her splinter group get by. She dusted her hands off and leaned against the counter.

"So," Sarah said with a little heave. "How'd it go?"

"Nothing to it, really; get in, hit some guys, call in the big guns and somehow all of Quincy has been liberated."

" Liberate implies the Gunners owned Quincy in the first place."

"If not then I guess we just evicted some squatters." Abby started making her way downstairs, the Elder in tow. The latter pulled her ponytail holder out and shook her hair free.

"Anything new happen while I was away?" Abby asked.

"Nothing really- well... you mentioned the Pride." Sarah tapped her chin playfully. "They've been pretty lonely without their CO."

"I can imagine." Abby replied in a deadpan manner.

"Having no actual members in it must be pretty lonely for you too."

"The title works for my resume. Though I can't see myself beating a bunch of newbies into shape."

"You do know those hypothetical members would only be in the Pride if they were half as good as you, right?"

"Yeah, yeah..."

The two make it into the shared quarters. Sarah propped herself against the door frame while Abby went in to dress out of her highly specialized combat get-up.

"Must be pretty kick-ass to have your gear." Sarah commented. She always was a tad jealous of the bolder wastelanders, they usually did get really good gear just lying around waiting to be picked up.

"The wonders of wasteland looting."

"I'm not sure you can get your hands on a prototype vault suit by just looting ."

Abby chuckled and eventually dressed down into her casual wear: a white tank top covered by a faded, open flannel long-sleeve complimented by jeans and boots. She then released her hair from her tight bun, dark brown hair cascading down to her elbows.

Seeing that she was finished transforming from her death machine state, Sarah beckoned "You up for some pool?" She pointed to the tables behind her.

"I was thinking of taking a stroll outside, actually."

Sarah looked up to her right, pondering.

"Hmm... sure, why not."

"Outside? A middle-aged man's voice chimed in as Finley passed on his way to guard duty. "...where all those ferals and super mutants and overall villains are? Don't you ever get tired of it all?"

"Don't worry about it, Finley. I do this all the time." Abby replied dismissively.

"Do all you pre-war types like taking these 'outdoor strolls?'" Sarah whispered.

The two women made their way outside the quarters and walked through the swanky buker. Abby replied: "I heard some stories from 2020 when no one was allowed to. Since then, well, yeah I think you can say that." Sarah chuckled softly at the statement.

Their jolly pace was slowed as they finally arrived at the bunker door, guarded by the aforementioned Finley.

"Don't worry. We'll be good." Sarah told Chuck, who let out a defeated sigh in return. He'd had many arguments with the Elder regarding her safety, and he didn't exactly have a positive win rate. So this time, he saved himself the time and misery.

"Ahh, go ahead," he said.

"Thanks, Chuck." Sarah replied with a smile.

"Oh hold up." Abby put her hand up and rushed back into her room. After a moment of waiting, she reemerged with a .44 magnum strapped to her hip.

"Feel better now Finley?" Abby called out Chuck and pointed to her hip, who responded with a chuckle and an eye roll. The two women walked outside the bunker; it was a strange time for a walk, but nighttime was sometimes just as safe, if not safer than the day.

That being said, as soon as the doors were closed and secured, though, something entered their field of vision: a blinding light. Shit! Abby's mind went into action mode. The bunker door had been sealed behind them, and it took some time to open anyway. Besides, there were good people in there that Abby swore to protect, she wouldn't expose them to danger, not while she could still fight.

When their eyes recovered, the two saw a man in a blue suit and tall hat flanked by two black-clad gentlemen a little over ten feet in front of them. In a hyper-reflexive move, Abby reached for her .44 and pointed it at the man in the middle.

"Abby, no!" Sarah shouted as she tried to restrain her subordinate, but it was too late. Abby fired two rounds square on the man's chest and shoulder.

Handy stumbled backwards and was caught by his oddly docile Coursers as he tried to catch his breath. He grunted the shock away and straightened back up, unscathed. A firm pull to straighten his jacket and the Director was standing straight up again like he wasn't just shot at point-blank range.

Meanwhile, Sarah gave Abby a death stare while Abby's eyes displayed nothing but silent panic. This subtle communication, as well as Sarah holding the .44's barrel straight towards her own gut calmed Abby down as they turned to face the NEA's leader. This is it, Abby thought to herself in resignation. This is the end of the line.

"Sorry... Not exactly used to being surprised in the middle of the night." Abby said out loud somewhat nervously. She wasn't looking at anyone other than Sarah.

"Ah, no need to apologize, I've been in the army, reacted very similarly." Handy laughed, immediately doing away with the hostile atmosphere and replacing it with an almost comedic one. His presence seemed to fill the rest of the open space, as if he himself was the Commonwealth. He's more persuasive than people said, Abby thought, and she recognized it very well. It took a charmer to know one.

"Director-General Galeone. My apologies! Please, we don't want any trouble, my friend was just a little jumpy." Sarah exclaimed as she tried to contain her shock with a half-bow. Abby did the same with obvious nerves.

The Director received the greeting with a bow himself.

"Sarah Lyons... I apologize for the invasion of your time."

Sarah immediately shot back up. She was recognized! He knew who she was! This was bad. Really bad.

"I followed you and your father's work back in DC. I can assure you despite our differences with the Brotherhood, you are no enemy to me or the Alliance."

A wave of relief suddenly took over both Sarah and Abby, and the both of them visibly relaxed. Sarah took a look at the Coursers guarding their leader. It was a rare thing seeing Coursers this close and not being dead.

Abby did the same and remarked. "Well, if we were... I guess they would've blasted my head off." Abby replied, pointing with her chin towards the statue-still Coursers.

"Of course. But with what we know they wouldn't just shoot at wasteland royalty."

"I'm... sorry?" Sarah inquired respectfully. "Like I said, we investigate your file very thoroughly. And frankly all I can really say is…" Handy straightened up and brought his right fist to his heart. "Ad victoriam, Elder."

Inside the bunker.

The looks on the guards' faces were priceless as Sarah and Abby returned from their relatively short walk with the Director-General of the New England Alliance . The Coursers secured the tension in the room until Handy raised his voice a little to address the people inside.

"I will not detain you very long, ladies and gentlemen. If you are confused at my being here, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Handy Galeone, Director of the Institute and General of The Minutemen. I am here to state simply that there is no need to hide. You are welcome here in the Alliance." Silence was the reply, and Handy took that as the cue to continue. "I know the Institute has had differences with Elder Maxson and the Brotherhood of Steel the past few years, but if you will have us, we would love to amend this relationship."

"The Brotherhood wasn't Maxson's when you blew the Prydwen out of the sky." Ash shot up aggressively with arms crossed.

"Ash... At least let him explain everything first." Jesse replied, trying to ease the tense atmosphere and avoid any potential bloodshed. He would not have a fight on his hands if Coursers were involved. Nobody in the bunker would.

"Come on, Ash." His father, Chuck, gave him a soft smile and a nod. "If they really wanted to blow us to hell, they probably would've followed through after the Prydwen."

Ash looked back and forth between all his comrades. He made eye contact with Shannon, who just nervously looked back down and mopped a portion of the floor she already attended to. Seems like I'm the odd one out here . Finally, Ash looked up to the Director after a few seconds of deliberation.

"Okay. We'll hear you out." Ash resigned, greeted with a warm smile from his father.

Handy sighed. "I'm sure all of you know the Institute's tendency to keep secrets. We don't do that anymore, and before any of you find out the hard way at a later juncture at which point it will be more harmful, I will divulge this: It was I who infilitrated Mass Fusion and led the charge for the Beryllium Agitator. I broke into Boston Airport and lowered the shields, I escorted the synth that installed the virus on Liberty Prime..."

The Director let that sink in for a while, and he could feel the minds of the people around them going for their mental guns.

"How did you develop that virus? Something to take control of Liberty Prime isn't something you can just find." Fiona broke the silence with her unusual enthusiasm and even worse timing. She sounded almost giddy that she met the people responsible for hacking the most dangerous war machine in the Commonwealth. The rest of the Brotherhood fell silent, almost as if they were resigning themselves to this uneasy mood and just letting them be taken by the flow.

"The virus... was developed by the head of our Advanced Systems department. Dr. Madison Li..."

Small gasps were heard around the bunker.

"So that's where she ended up…" Sarah said to herself softly as she bit the skin on her finger, and despite trying her best to be quiet, she was heard by the Director nonetheless. Abby still remained willfully silent with a cold glare directed towards the emotionless Coursers. They were ordered not to engage, but orders could change in the blink of an eye.

Two people in the back of the crowd, Jesse and Madeleine, were seen whispering. Them being scribes, they found this to be particularly interesting news. Handy observed the commotion and found the need to get the conversation back on track.

"With that said, I know of the differences the Brotherhood had within itself years ago. I know of the plot to assassinate Elder Sarah Lyons and exterminate the Pride. Elder Owyn Lyons was a good man, and a competent commander; as far as I'm concerned, The NEA is chasing his shadow to realize his vision."

Handy took his hat off and took it to his heart. "It sounds ironic… The Brotherhood has done many things called a sin, but the Institute has greater blots on its ledger... blots I hope we can at least try to atone for today."

The Brotherhood whispered among themselves; uncertainty, anxiety, distrust, all of these feelings and resentments circulated the room like a bad virus. Abby coughed loudly, as if begging for the attention.

"You wanted to say something, Elder Lyons?" She said, shooting a deadpan smirk towards Sarah. You do know these people look up to you, right? They'll trust your judgement . Abby's eyes told Sarah everything she thought, and she agreed. With the signal, Sarah composed herself, made her decision, and faced the Director.

"Director Galeone."

"Yes?" Handy's military training nearly kicked in and he fought the urge to stand at attention. His mind registered Sarah as a leader, and his instincts did the same.

"How does dinner with everyone sound to you?"

No gasps were heard, but one could definitely hear the tension turn into confusion. Abby herself was distraught. She expected an immediate display of rejection.

"That... would be lovely, Elder. Such a kindness isn't found so easily in the Wasteland."

"The NEA is no wasteland thanks to you," she flattered.

Handy smiled and handed his hat to X6 before being led to the bar, where a repurposed assaultron prepared hot meals for Sarah, Abby, Handy, and a couple others who occupied the surrounding seats.

It was a bit awkward, but the smell of the grilled radstag seemed to lift everyone's spirits as they prepared to dig in. Handy was seated to Sarah's right, and he smiled courteously before something caught his eye further down the bar.

Abby was staring at her food, hands clasped, but her trance was broken with a quick sign of the cross.

Handy was shocked into stillness. No one, literally no one except himself made the sign of the cross in all the wasteland, not even the ghouls, whose minds were overtaken by new things as the decades turned into centuries. Every religious text Handy encountered was damaged or ruined beyond comprehension, and his knowledge of the Bible was limited to some key verses he memorized during his more desperate times in the army. But even with his textual knowledge so limited, compared to Pastor Clements in Diamond District, Handy seemed like a prophet, simply because he grew up formed by his catechism and went to church on Sundays to hear sermons taken straight from the Word.

So as one would expect, he stared almost rudely at Abby and was only snapped out when she turned her head in his direction.

At that point, as if to recover, Handy made the sign of the cross himself to give thanks for the meal. Abby took notice as he prayed and crossed himself again, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped slightly as she realized that she screwed up, and as she began partaking of the radstag in front of her she prayed once more, this time with the hope that the Director didn't properly interpret her action.

"Good to see culture hasn't completely left this planet. I thought I was the only one," Handy said with his eyes facing Abby. She shot back with a wry smile. She had been found out, but she wasn't going down so easily.

"No offence, but I didn't really take you for the religious type," he continued.

"I wouldn't call it religion." Abby took a bite out of her radstag.

Handy began to dig into his food as well. The normally charming and easygoing Handy was hesitant to strike up a conversation with the mercenary across the table; he was definitely curious about her but at the same time, somewhat intimidated.

It's not like he didn't have a reason to be on the fence. From their first meeting, he saw that this person was rather difficult: cold, and dismissive. The first thing she did upon seeing him was shoot- twice! Come to think of it, only someone with longtime firearm experience could unload a .44 like that.

"Not to poke at old wounds, but where'd you learn to shoot like that?" Handy inquired playfully.

"Law school. Texas was a weird place," Abby replied nervously.

"Texas?" Handy internally gasped. She's... pre-war? ! No one on the East Coast referred to Texas as 'Texas' on instinct unless they either travelled there or grew up there. "When did you travel to Texas? That place is brutal and barren."

Sarah took a sip of Gwinnett, pretending not to mind along with the rest of the bunker. Everything about this exchange was equal parts tense and exciting. Abby chuckled at the Director's comment.

"I would disagree with you, but I really can't."

"I don't remember there being a law school that teaches you how to infiltrate and take down a squad of trained mercenaries with your bare hands... in Texas. At least not in the 23rd century."

As if that fact wasn't obvious enough. Abby knew the man she was talking to was no dumb Army grunt. He's the Director of the Institute for crying out loud . She knew she might not be able to play dumb against this man but she also would rather not divulge any details of her interesting history.

"You must be pretty well-travelled to come all the way here from all the way there." Handy prodded further. "If I may, where did you grow up? I'm new to the wasteland, I hope you can educate me on it a bit more."

Abby began thinking up an alibi that she was with Elder Owyn Lyons when he first set out to the Capital Wasteland in 2254, but the years didn't line up now that she 'attended a law school in Texas.' Lie as little as possible .

" Law school was a joke from where I grew up; something I always tell people. I heard it from a friend who used to scavenge around and about. Apparently, he came across this big old building called 'Texas A&M University' or something. Law school stuck to him for some reason so it just became a weird joke."

Only two lies in that statement. A&M was a law school, right? The one time it would've been useful to remember that fact... he seems convinced enough, though.

Handy seemed to relax. "Ahh, I see, I see. And where did you grow up before coming to the Commonwealth?"

"I'm from Texas but eventually ended up here. I came as a mercenary and eventually met up with Elder Lyons over here. Somewhere along the line I, as you said, learned how to infiltrate and take down a squad of trained mercenaries with my bare hands ."

Sarah took a quick sip of her drink and looked away, clearly pretending she didn't hear that alibi. Dammit, Lyons...

"Funny, you don't have the drawl," Handy commented.

"Not every Texan is a hillbilly rancher. It slips every now and then, though."

"Huh... guess you're right." And Abby was safe for now. Something tells me he's gonna come back with the questions. He could just be playing dumb, but there's something about his constant grin that just seems... empty. She made a note to make up a better alibi for herself later on, but for now she was just glad the inquisition was over.

Handy turned his attention and reflected his tone back to Sarah, who was preoccupied with her meal or so it seemed. "You'll have to excuse me, Elder, it's not everyday I meet other wastelanders with unique perspectives from outside the Commonwealth."

"I can understand," Sarah replied, quickly picking up the conversation. "Although... I haven't met anyone quite like you either, Director," she said with a slightly smitten tone, probably to make it up to Abby for not helping her with her cover story. It did its job in catching Handy's attention.

"Daughter of The Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, thirty-six years old, close friend to its would-be Elder, forced into hiding, eventually setting up camp right outside the Commonwealth, miles away from your old home, and you haven't met a man like me? I find that a little hard to believe."

"Son of people whose names are legitimately lost to time, father of... Father, over two-centuries old, and witnessed the bombs fall, I think I would be justified," Sarah chuckled.

"Touché," Handy said, raising his own bottle of Gwinnett and taking a swig. As he did, Sarah glanced nervously to Abby, as if seeking refuge. The Texan just smiled and took another swig of her drink, almost as if silently nodding in approval.

"Soo... sorry to make it all about business now but what exactly can we do for the NEA?"

Handy finished drinking without hurry and set the bottle down, composing himself. "The details of a partnership can be hammered out at a later date, but for now, feel free to embrace the NEA as your home, once we meet about a partnership, we'll have a formal declaration and maybe even a parade."

"Despite your efforts for them, I can't speak for how the people of the Commonwealth would react to an Institute-led parade. Even if we're just talking about a minority. At the very least, they're skeptical, and at the worst, they're absolutely terrified."

"The NEA isn't about controlling the people's perception as much as it is helping them. If they have old wounds the Institute caused that we can't heal, then so be it. But we want to try healing them as much as we can. Maybe they'll never like us, but I'm fine with that as long as they live the lives they've earned well."

"How noble of you..." Sarah remarked, letting herself stare for a little, perhaps to put the Director on edge even further, although he hardly seemed fazed. Here was a man that convinced the people of the Commonwealth that the Institute could help them and vice versa; he was used to being rejected, used to it enough that he never let it affect what he thought was right. Sarah and Abby could see the conviction from this man's eyes. If anything, he definitely believes in his cause, they thought in unison, ... believes in it enough to come to a Brotherhood bunker unarmed with Coursers ordered not to open fire. He was either a visionary, or just as mad as the rest of them.

As the night progressed, nothing much really unfolded, hours passed without anyone noticing from inside the bunker, but when everyone had finished their meals, Handy stood up, prompting everyone else to do so as well. "Well, Elder Lyons, members of the Brotherhood, it has been such a pleasure breaking bread with you today."

"And it has been our pleasure having you, Director," Sarah said.

Handy grabbed hold of his beer once more, only a little left in it. "To the brotherhood! And to those who have fallen... to those who deserved to stand here with us today, ad Victoriam!"

"Ad Victoriam!" Everyone repeated (save for Abby) and raised their drinks to drink heartily. Abby only took a sip, still feeling uneasy at the whole thing. Sure, being in the NEA's good graces was a good thing, public recognition and practice was even better, but something definitely seemed... off. The Director seemed well-intentioned, but he was also a brilliant diplomat, this wasn't him just patching up the bullet holes he had created, it's gotta be something more.