Jack Parsons and the Worthy Opponent
They moved in to Greenetech Genetics like a small military squad. Even Dogmeat, for his part, crouched low and stayed quiet. It was evident that they were not about to initiate the first fight in the building. They saw what appeared to be dead military members strewn about the lobby, and a higher ranking member was issuing orders over the PA system. It seemed like the Courser was in a mission to the top of the building. This struck Jack as tactically advantageous; they could clean up the wreckage and not arouse too much suspicion with their gunshots.
"What can you tell me about these folks," Jack whispered, nudging a body with his combat rifle.
"Gunners. They are a mercenary group that operate here in the Commonwealth. It's my understanding that they fashion themselves like Pre-War military unit, albeit a ruthless one," Nick answered.
"They might dress differently, but they are no better than raiders when it comes to their morals," Piper added. For Jack, this was both good news and a touch of familiarity from his old life. He was used to operating against trained soldiers, and if they were anything like military units of old, then they would have a degree of predictability.
They advanced past the lobby without event, passing more bodies. Apparently the Courser was taking care of business, which was helpful now, but proved his combat prowess. They advanced into a walkway that overlooked another section of the lobby, when suddenly a couple of windows on the far side began opening.
"Get back, now!" Jack Parsons barked, correctly guessing that they had somehow wandered into a trap. Behind the shutters were a couple of machine turrets, and they roared to life just as the gang scrambled back behind cover.
"Damnit," Jack thought, "already pinned." However, Nick Valentine came to the rescue. As soon as the guns died down he sprang up, and placed a .45 round into each turret, instantly deactivating them. He ducked back behind the wall when a few Gunners began to approach, weapons drawn.
"Who's out there?" they demanded. They did not want to have to face a threat from both above and below. This day was already not going according to plan for them. Jack held up his hand, motioning the other two to remain still. He mouthed that he wanted them to jump up at the same time and each take one guy. He had the guy on the left.
"Go!" he whispered, and they sprung up, each plugging their target.
"Alright, let's move up," Jack ordered. "By the way, where'd you learn to do that thing with the turrets?" Nick shrugged.
"As far as the timing, I'm machine enough to know when a turret needs to cool down. As for the marksmanship, I have all of the memories of a decorated police officer."
They moved up through the building. At the next squad of Gunners, Dogmeat took point. He rushed ahead of the crew and dive tackled the nearest enemy, going for the jugular. A pop from Jack's pistol put the mercenary out of his misery. Valentine downed a target, putting two bullets center of mass. They seemed to be quite the outfit. If the Commonwealth had more people like this, then maybe the Minutemen could make a real go of it. That was a thought to be reflected on later, however, as they climbed a building full of angry mercenaries and at least one angry android.
Under Jack's leadership, they made it to the top, sustaining no casualties. Both Piper and Nick were proving to be more combat proficient than he first realized, and both of them were quick to learn the various hand signals and commands that Jack made. Dogmeat, too, was extremely responsive to orders. Perhaps he had a mutation that gave him exceptional intelligence. At any rate, Jack Parsons began to feel alive again, free from the weight of his anxiety. It seemed counterintuitive, but it made sense. When things died down, and Jack was left with his thoughts, the crushing weight of everything that was going on, and the uncertainty of the future got to him. He began to worry and seek to drown out the inner voices and memories from the past. However, when the action kicked up again, anxious thoughts went away. He had something to focus on, something concrete and tangible. Perhaps that's why he was drawn to combat situations in the first place.
They finally reached a quieter section of the building, near the top. They slowed down, listening. A semi-robotic voice came from above them, apparently asking questions to a Gunner. Things began to come into focus. The Courser had won, and was interrogating a couple of captives on how to open a door. Apparently, whatever he sought was behind it. Jack had the group hold, and took a minute to strategize.
"Valentine, you know the Institute better than anyone else. How should we play this?" he asked.
"Look, even though I'm a Synth myself, I have no memory of the Institute. The only thing I have to go off with Coursers is the fact that nobody's walked away from an encounter with one yet." Nick surmised.
"But we have the element of surprise!" whispered Piper, enthusiastically.
"You four," came the robotic voice, "I know you're down there. How about you come up here, so we can talk?"
Ashamed at their lack of sneaking skills, the gang made their way upstairs to face the Courser. He was there, holding two Gunners hostage, with a scared-looking woman behind a glass window. From the modus operandi of Courser in general, Jack figured that the woman was an escaped Synth.
The Courser stood there in a black leather jacket, Institute pistol in hand. His face looked emotionless, despite the obvious combat he had been through. The Courser's eyes alighted on Nick Valentine.
"You. You are a defective model. You should have been processed," he stated, coldly and emotionlessly.
"Nice to meet you too," said Nick dryly.
The Courser, who they would later find out was named Z2-47, didn't have a chance to reply, because a .45 round shot directly between his eyes. He fell straight backward onto the floor, and his pistol discharged into the ceiling when he hit the ground.
"Sorry, I just hate it when they monologue," explained Piper, the barrel of her pistol still smoking.