Drummer Boy waited in the lounge- glad to no longer have the bellowing roars outside or the vibrating floors under his feet.

Glad to no longer have the threat of a Behemoth at the doorstep.

...

But of course, just like everything else, it had to come at a cost.

Once more Charmer had to run off to do whatever was needed, whatever was asked of him. And Drummer Boy couldn't blame the man for giving a hand wherever it was needed- after all it was that attitude that had brought Charmer to the Railroad in the first place. And asking for one more harmless break seemed like it would be asking too much from the world.

Too much trade in one direction would upset the flow of things around here.

Too much good at one time usually ended with a lot of bad later on down the line.

And considering that they were still trying to recover from the last shipload of bad that had been dropped on top of them, Drummer Boy didn't want to press their luck. There was no rhyme or reason with things around here- there was nothing that said that the next thing coming their way would be good.

(Although Charmer had previously been the last thing that came knocking at the door.)

"Fucking crazy, isn't it?" High-Rise spoke as he worked his way across the lounge; there was a cigarette half-balanced on his lips and a lighter sticking out of his jacket pocket. There was no doubt that the man was on his way out; High-Rise had a strict no-smoking policy inside- and that rule applied to himself as well. Although, as strict as the man was about smoke inhalation inside, that wasn't to say that some of the agents at Ticonderoga didn't find ways to creatively get around it. "Two fucking Behemoths. Where the hell did they come from?"

Drummer Boy chuckled lightly at the remark. "Well hey, just look at it this way, you're getting two issues down at once."

"Yeah- hopefully anyways," High-Rise replied. "Charmer and Colada just took down some ferals the other night, a Behemoth can't be too far off the path, right?"

"Oh yeah, a ghoul and a Behemoth are totally one in the same," Drummer Boy remarked, catching the exasperated look High-Rise shot him just before the man headed down the stairs. He chuckled lightly at the silent remark, knowing well that the silence said enough, and settled in on the couch- figuring he had a long wait period ahead of him. There wasn't much else for him to do around here and he had already solved the issue he came here for.

And there was no way that he was going to go out there with the Behemoths.

He barely got the down time he wanted before he heard the sound of his radio going off in his jacket pocket.

The sound of it sounded foreign to him.

Very rarely did he ever actually get a call on it, let alone really use it to call someone else; the radio was usually meant for emergency situations and was to be treated as such, which was an easy order to understand.

The Railroad tried to avoid using radios as much as possible to avoid potential Institute, and now Brotherhood, interference. Tinker Tom was hard-pressed on the matter, and since Desdemona agreed with his concern, he was allowed to rig all of their radios to run on multiple frequencies- most of which were fake. It took the man three weeks to pull it off- three weeks of no sleep and only a diet of drugs, much to Carrington's immense concern. The finish product basically assured that if anyone were to try to tap into their frequencies, they wouldn't know that the line was fake until about an hour of their time had already been wasted.

All of which rounded out to saying that whatever the radio was buzzing about in his jacket, it had to be something important.

Pulling the radio free, Drummer Boy listened to the quiet morse-code that beeped in rhythm from the other line. Another one of the Railroad's tactics for disturbing their own frequencies- one that he knew well and one that told him exactly who was calling.

He counted the dots and dashes, formulating the password in his head- and picking it up on the first try.

"Mutifruit," he answered, breaking the connection on his own end.

"Good to hear you're still in range," the voice of Desdemona started near immediately in response. "Still at Ticonderoga?"

The fact that Desdemona was calling him so soon after he had just left did not settle well with him. The woman used the radio often when she needed to, when she needed to get out orders, but... that was usually to a party. Not to just one person. And seeing as he knew how things ran in the Railroad, that experience alone told him that there was something to potentially fear.

"Yeah, I got the communication issue fixed and Charmer's out dealing with the issues High-Rise needed him for," Drummer Boy answered- giving the woman the simplest, quickest answers. He didn't want to prolong the inevitable here.

"Hopefully nothing too time-consuming," the Alpha replied.

"Depends on how long taking down two Behemoths takes."

And given that it had already been a little over two hours now, there was no telling.

Desdemona gave a long sigh, and even though the two of them were on the radio, Drummer Boy swore he could smell the cigarette smoke coming off of her. "Listen, I'm going to need you to head back when you can- we got some news recently and we need to rethink how we're sending out our next wave," the woman continued. "Mercer hit a hitch earlier today and while Glory's got the place up and running again, it caused a shift in routine. I need you here for the briefing."

And there it was.

The words alone confirmed what he had been dreading.

If Glory had the situation under control for the time being than it might not be so bad- but very rarely did Desdemona have to change how things were done. Especially on the fly like this.

Unfortunately he knew he couldn't ask for more details over the radio, which only made the whole thing feel worse.

(Which made the whole thing feel like a heavier rock in his gut.)

"Alright, I'll head out as soon as I can," Drummer Boy replied, unable to shake the discomfort of what would be waiting for him back at HQ. He should be used to this by now and yet each time it came up, it only seemed to be worse than the last. And after Switchboard, he didn't know how much worse things could get.

(Couldn't they just get a break? Just once?)

Drummer Boy looked up at what sounded like stomping coming from downstairs- loud and obnoxious, breaking his concentration for a moment.

"What about Charmer?"

"Let him finish his job with High-Rise and return when he can- I know the Minutemen are probably asking about him right now," Desdemona spoke, and it felt so very rarely spoken that Charmer id have another job. That he didn't just run with them, that he wasn't just 'Charmer' to the world out there. He wasn't here for just the Synths- he was here for the Commonwealth too.

"Alright, I'll be back in a few hours then."

It sounded like an empty promise in some way.

But the least he could do was wait for Charmer to return and make sure that the man was alright.

And judging from the sounds downstairs, it would seem as though the hunting party had returned.

Drummer Boy could hear the loud footsteps stomping up the stairs, practically shaking the building it seemed; he heard the scattered voices- loud, but it wasn't completely audible as to what was being said. It sounded angry though, which wasn't a good sign.

The first person he saw was Rent as the woman came barreling up the stairs.

Her face was blister-red and her make-up was smeared across pulled skin; she had a fresh coating of snow all over her uniform as well.

"Dare I ask?" Drummer Boy started- a little afraid of what the answer might be.

"It was fucking awful," Rent replied, gesturing to the above floor as she made her way up the stairs. "Gotta grab some spare stimpaks for this one."

Okay.

Now he was worried.

The hearty laugh that echoed through the lounge alerted Drummer Boy that Colada was next- and the sight of the large man himself confirmed it. He was laughing and seemingly pretending that he wasn't crushing Motherboard as the woman kept one arm hooked as best she could around the man's waist- keeping him somewhat balanced against her as she walked.

"You should've seen it, Drummer," Colada started, grinning from ear to ear as he half-walked, half-stumbled across the lobby, "what a fight!"

"Be GLAD that you weren't there," Motherboard quipped as she forced the man to the nearby couch. "I don't know what the hell Colada is talking about."

"Not many of us do," Drummer Boy remarked, watching now as Motherboard forced the larger man down onto the couch. The woman huffed before she fished a rag out of her jacket and tried to wipe away the blood from Colada's broken nose. All while the man grinned and gave a hearty thumbs-up to him- behind Motherboard's back of course.

Butcher and Charmer came next- the two of them leaning on one another as they finally made it to the top of the stairs with a set of huffs.

"Was it worth it?" Drummer Boy questioned as he moved to help the two of them to the other couches- sitting Butcher on one and Charmer on the other. It was hard not to notice the wide split across Charmer's left cheek, the blood already having crystallized on his skin; it was hard not to notice the heavy bruising setting in, giving evidence to the man having smashed face-first into the ice. And Butcher wasn't one to go unnoticed with a slightly torn jacket, and a visibly swollen arm- her remaining human one anyways.

"Yes," Butcher answered, a bit too quickly for his liking. "Watching not one, but TWO Behemoths fall was a sight to see, my friend."

And the woman's comment was enough to spark questions- as well as answers.

"I thought you guys were taking them on one at a time?" he questioned.

"We WERE," Motherboard emphasized, as she helped Colada get his false leg propped up on the table nearby. "I don't know how it happened- the stupid things wouldn't follow us at first, and no one was paying attention to where they were running. Next thing ya know, we end up running into each other right when the super-sized Muties decide to follow- thus dragging all of us together. It was a shit show, Drummer, and we're all lucky to still be alive right now."

"It wasn't THAT bad," Colada insisted.

Drummer Boy sighed and decided not to get between Colada and Motherboard's continuous arguing- although he would definitely go with Motherboard on this one, as he usually did. Instead, for now, he turned his attention back to Charmer, who had sunken himself down into the ratted cushions, looking more than a little bit frozen once more. "How bad was it?" he asked.

Charmer gave what might've been a nervous, sheepish sort of laugh as he pushed his shoulders down into the cushions. "It was pretty bad," he replied, fingers lightly touching at his split, bruising cheek. "Not gonna lie, I might've screamed when I saw the first Behemoth- I thought you were exaggerating when you said that they were colossal size." The man tugged at his jacket now, loosening the first couple of buttons on it to allow himself to breathe easier. "I most definitely screamed when the second one showed up though."

He could only imagine how it all must've looked to the man.

They had all been there though- that first time ever seeing a Behemoth. Now some people were lucky and never saw one at all, but only maybe heard it out in the distance or something. But it was definitely one of those sights you never forget.

"So what are the damages?" Drummer Boy pressed, briefly sitting on the arm of the couch next to the man.

Motherboard and Colada had given up on their argument for now.

Rent had returned with the stimpaks and was patching Butcher up for the time being- the two of them were a mix of laughter and arguing at the moment. Their usual post-battle head-butting.

"Took a nasty spill- as you can see," Charmer answered, making a vague gesture towards his face. "Almost got smashed by a thrown car, almost got caught under a collapsing building... also had my leg sort of disconnect mid-battle."

See?

That was the concern that he was always bringing up- the same one that no one else seemed to want to focus on.

"Colada dislocated his too," Butcher remarked, quick to point a finger at her white-bearded friend. "Can you believe it? Mid-battle against two Behemoths and two of our guys lose their legs."

"At least they were only prosthetics this time," Rent muttered.

"The spring in your wrist junction popped too," Motherboard reminded. "Honestly, ten minutes into the battle and we're all slipping on ice and nearly shooting each other instead- it's a bloody miracle that those Behemoths are the only ones who are dead."

"But they are dead," Colada spoke.

"Oh shut it!"

"Where's White Tide and High-Rise?" Drummer Boy asked, taking note of the men's absence now. High-Rise had only just left a few minutes ago, so there was no way that the man didn't know that his team had come back. All in different variety of pieces, but they had come back.

"Doing a perimeter run just in case," Motherboard answered. "We're never certain if Super Mutants follow those things, or track them, or whatever. High-Rise wanted to make sure that we're still keeping an eye out for them in the case they do decide to show up. And since White Tide got lucky and avoided most of the battle, he's out there too- you know, that boy, as fast as he is, never once slipped on that damn ice."

Right, of course.

Smart move.

Drummer Boy sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck.

Things weren't exactly ideal right now, but no one had died and no one was seriously injured, so he could still be grateful for that.

"Something bothering you?" Butcher asked, as she moved to lie down on the couch- sprawling herself out before she moved to cross her arms over her chest. "Did the Behemoths bother you that much?"

"No, no- it's just you guys decided to come back right as Dez called me in to leave," he replied. "Trying to fight with morality right now, and asking myself if I should heed to her order or stick around long enough to make sure you guys don't die of hyperthermia."

"What'd she call you back for?" Charmer asked.

"Change of plans or something to the effect," Drummer Boy answered, not wanting to give too much away from the time being. Everyone had enough to deal with right now, and the last thing they needed was something else on their mind. Not to mention he didn't really have any details to give himself- and another thing everyone needed to not worry about were questions with no answers. "But looks like I'll be sticking around here for a little longer."

"Aw, you do care," Butcher teased.


After allowing Colada and Charmer to rest in the lounge room long enough to get their strength back, the two men were hauled up to their respective rooms for a little more privacy- allowing the two of them to dress down and deal with their issues under their own terms. Butcher had decided to stay in the lounge to nap- with Motherboard and Rent promising to keep an eye on her.

High-Rise and White Tide came back with the report of nothing in the area.

No more Behemoths, no other Super Mutants of any kind either

No ghouls even.

"So let me ask again, was it worth it?" Drummer Boy spoke.

"We needed to get rid of the Behemoths," Charmer replied, sprawled flat on his back in bed with his right leg in both hands. His prosthetic had been disconnected and set aside on the floor for the time being- and it was hard to ignore the slight dent on one of the side panels. An easy fix though- easy enough for Tom to hammer out if needed be. "There were a couple hits that were a little too close, but the giants did fall."

The man was starting to sound like Colada.

Drummer Boy could read the slight pain on Charmer's face as the man massaged at his leg muscles- no doubt trying to relax the irritated nerves.

After dressing down to a loose shirt and shorts for the time being, which wasn't keeping the man any warmer in the slightly cool room, it was clear to see that Charmer was covered in an assortment of nicks and scrapes. A few too many slips and/or throws across the ice had caused his skin to bruise and split all over- too much force pulling at the skin in one place.

Although the gash on his face was still the largest of them.

It split clean across his cheek, down towards his jaw.

Drummer Boy would almost suggest stitches if the skin wasn't still red from the wind chill.

But Charmer's leg was bruised and the skin around the stump had been stressed; it was easy to see where the blisters were starting to form under the skin. There might've been some minor skin tearing as well, which meant the man would need to stay off of his leg for a few days or so. Which was a hard thing to ask given Charmer's workflow around the Commonwealth.

Pulling the room door closed behind him, Drummer Boy walked over to where Charmer was sprawled out, looking a little less like the man who had left that morning. "Here," he offered as he sat down on the edge of the thin mattress and offered his hands to take over. And Drummer Boy watched as Charmer seemed to hesitate at the offer, before he conceded and moved to knit his own hands behind his head.

Drummer Boy started slow as he let his hands wrap around Charmer's thigh, palms cradling the inner and outer curve of his leg, while fingers pressed carefully into the skin. He felt the muscle flex stiffly underneath his touch as he moved his hands in careful sync, working from knee to mid-thigh and down again. Charmer was cold again, and he could only hope that the small amount of heat in his hands would keep the man's blood flowing for the time being.

Extending his thumbs out, he pushed down along the slight twitch of the muscle and heard Charmer give a deep groan in response- felt his leg pull slightly in his grasp.

"You do this with everyone?" Charmer whispered.

Why did that have to be the running theme between them?

"Occasionally," Drummer Boy answered, as one hand wrapped around the junction of Charmer's thigh, while he risked moving the other hand down to the man's kneecap. Fingers gently prodded around the bone, easing the stiff tendons that remained in place. He felt them tense slightly as the muscle of his thigh pulled- as Charmer's hips arched slightly into the touch. "You're not the only one with a false leg- and you're not the only one who's had it knocked off during a fight."

Charmer gave a soft laugh, letting it ease into another softer groan. "More like... flung off."

Drummer Boy touched lightly at the bruising skin, feeling for any sort of tearing around the stump; there was some relieve to find that there only seemed to be upcoming blisters- which still weren't a good sign, but better than the alternative.

"Feeling better?"

"Oh yeah."

He continued to let his fingers trail up and down Charmer's leg, feeling the tension in the muscle finally starting to ease back. Which was good seeing how difficult it was to ignore how the long groans that left Charmer's throat had him feeling a little hot under the collar; how it put his mind in a race he didn't necessarily want to be in.

"Do you really have to go back?"

Drummer Boy chuckled lightly at the question. "Yeah. Dez's orders," he answered. "I have to be up to date with the latest information; they can't plan anything without me there, and considering that any change is always a big deal, I can't risk pushing this further back than I already have. But again, I had to make sure that no one arrived dead after the ordeal with the Behemoths- so at least there's a spot of good news to take home."

"Yeah, I'm sure Carrington will be thrilled," Charmer teased.

He shook his head and pressed a little firmer into the junction of Charmer's thigh as he felt another muscle spasm under his hand. "You going to miss me?"

Charmer squirmed slightly under his hands and gave a soft laugh at his remark. "I guess the shoe's on the other foot this time- I'm usually the one leaving you behind. I don't know if I can handle it being the other way around." He pulled himself into a brief stretch, perhaps in distraction, before he reached one hand up to toy with the collar of his jacket. "You going to give me something to remember you by?"

"You don't remember this morning just before the Behemoth showed up?" Drummer Boy teased, catching the man's laugh once more, before he felt Charmer pull him down to him- before he felt the cold press of his lips once more. "I'll see you when you get back, yeah?" he whispered against Charmer's lips. "I think this was all that High-Rise needed you for so once you're feeling better again you'll be back at HQ."

"Probably by tomorrow morning at least," Charmer spoke, a little hopeful with that, "- ah, no actually, it's going to be longer. I need to head back to the Castle and handle some things there. Shit, how long have I been gone?"

"Not long enough apparently," Drummer Boy replied, kissing the man once more, before he pulled away. "You need anything before I go?"

"Preferably you not leaving," Charmer offered.

"That's not an option."

"Then no."


Drummer Boy left with a promise from Motherboard that she would look after Charmer and make sure that he was back on his feet by morning.

He left with the reassurance from High-Rise and White Tide that the area was secure for the most part- the Behemoths had scared off everything in the area, which came to no surprise. He would technically have nothing to worry about until he left the area, which was a bigger safety net to have than most would assume.

And just like that, he was back on the road headed back towards HQ.

It wasn't often that he left any of the safe houses, let alone left by himself.

He used to travel alone before the Railroad, sure, but doing so now left him with an empty feeling inside of his chest- it left him feeling maybe a little more than paranoid. After all, before he joined the Railroad, he never had to worry about whether the Institute was following him or not. Life was definitely easier before then, but... he was content with how his life was going now.

The Railroad did a lot for him.

Drummer Boy made it across the main bridge with no issues and headed back along the road he and Charmer had taken the day before.

It was hard to believe that so much had happened in such a short time span- then again that was sort of common. The Railroad didn't waste time and whatever could be fit into the hours of the day was usually taken upon.

...

Drummer Boy hit the main street and felt himself stop.

Something felt off, something felt... wrong, but he could't put his finger on it. Maybe it was the fact that he had officially stepped out of the safety net, or the reoccurring fact that he was traveling by himself. There was something out there digging under his skin though, scratching at the back of his head.

He couldn't pinpoint what the feeling was, or where it was coming from, but he knew that his gut feeling was never wrong.

The cold was making his back ache again and that only seemed to enforce the idea, enforce the paranoia.

Stepping off of the road, Drummer Boy moved closer along the house to his left- keeping them open for use as a shield if needed be. Fingers twitched for the gun at his side, but he kept the urge contained for now. He'd only shoot if it was necessary and it was always easier to run if he had his hands free, but everything depended on the answer of what exactly was out there.

Then he heard it.

That sharp, crackling sound of concentrated energy.

A sound that sparked the echoes of nightmares in his head; a sound that caused his back to pull tight in pain once more.

He didn't see the shot exactly but he caught the movement of it in the corner of his eye and didn't take the chance.

Ducking through a partly broken door, Drummer Boy shielded himself inside of the dilapidated house and positioned himself close to one of the windows. He pressed his back against the wall and surveyed the house for a few seconds, making sure that he had an escape route of some kind. Making sure that the danger wasn't actually located in the one place he decided to take safety in.

There was a back door just in the other room, no doubt facing out towards the shoreline; it was better than nothing.

Interestingly enough, just a few feet away from him was a dead Bloodbug- more than likely the one he saw in convulsions the other day.

There was a window to his left, the frame and glass long since broken, but a tattered curtain remained clinging to what was left, giving him some form of cover as fingers tediously moved to pull a corner of it back. Just a small peek outside- nothing too greedy.

His heart was absolutely pounding already, and there was no denying the hollowed drumming of it in his ears.

There was nothing in the streets.

Not at first anyways.

Drummer Boy flinched at the first catch of movement but watched as a Mirelurk scuttered across the broken asphalt; its rounded shell partly cracked. Glory had said that they were still active despite the cold- they were still territorial even, but he still didn't expect to actually see one. Especially so far from the shoreline, although Mirelurks were known to nest in the dirt mounds inside of the cities.

It was a surreal kind of setting, with the both of them seemingly out of place from where they should be.

Then he heard it again.

Another crack of an energy weapon.

A bright red streak of light that struck the Mirelurk for what might've been a second time- breaking its shell entirely, killing it instantly.

And even Drummer Boy had to admit that there was a churning sensation in his stomach at the sight of it.

He tried to hold on to the thin chance that it was a Brotherhood unit on patrol; the armored assholes used similar energy weapons and seemingly vowed to protect the Commonwealth even though no one asked that of them. Mirelurks would no doubt be something on their hunting list. He had limited experience with the Brotherhood, but he knew that they would be easier to avoid, easier to outsmart than the alternative.

And besides, it wasn't like he was doing anything wrong by being out here; he was just going for a walk for all they knew.

But then he caught a glimpse of a black suit and let the curtain fall from his fingertips without a second glance. His heart rang harder, heavier in his ears now as he pressed himself tighter to the wall- feeling the heat in his chest from a quickly withheld breath.

Drummer Boy felt his skin go colder at the realization that a Courser was currently prowling down the street, no doubt coming to check on its fresh kill. Had the thing spotted movement and simply shot? Or was it more like an enjoyment kill?

What the hell was one doing all the way out here anyways?!

There had been no sightings, no warnings- was this the change of plans Desdemona had mentioned before? No. No, that wasn't possible either. Something would've been said, a warning would've been put out, she wouldn't told them to stay low and stay put. Maybe the dual Behemoth battles had garnered the Institute's attention, maybe the Courser had already been here-

Drummer Boy's thoughts were cut short as he heard the all-too-familiar sound of the energy rifle being shot once more.

The sound of it rang in his ears, rang throughout his head, almost blocking out the sudden hot pain that erupted through his left shoulder- just barely exposed by the curtain and open window.

It was so fast, so quick, Drummer Boy didn't even realize what had happened- didn't even realize that it was his own blood he felt trickling down to his fingertips. Hot and spilling to the ground in thick droplets. He didn't even feel the immediate heat until it felt like his body was being burned alive from the inside; a familiar feeling that had once hindered him useless and paralyzed for days.

The pain was quick to set in once his mind had made the connection between the sound and the blood.

Drummer Boy barely managed to choke back a scream, barely muffling himself to keep quiet, to keep his position.

The Courser had spotted movement and shot.

There was no guarantee that the thing had actually seen him.

But there was also no guarantee that it didn't either.

He couldn't risk either options.

Pulling in sharp, wheezing breaths between clenched teeth, Drummer Boy pushed himself away from the window and mostly stumbled into the next room- barely avoiding debris and furniture as he went out through the back door. He stalled on the other side of the threshold, waiting just long enough to know that the Courser wasn't going to round towards the back where he was escaping from and spot him.

Curious thing this one was as he heard the Courser enter in through the front door, no doubt intrigued to see what its bullet had hit.

If Drummer Boy was lucky, the Courser would assume that it's victim was the Bloodbug on the ground and give up.

The fresh blood on the floor would hopefully sell the point, but Coursers were smart.

...

There was no telling how this was going to play out.

If he stuck around any longer, it would know that he was here- and he couldn't risk it.

And with his arm freshly burnt and bleeding, there was no telling if he was even going to remain conscious for much longer. His fingers were pressed to his shoulder, pressed just underneath the wound; his palm was filling with blood which spilled over and left fat droplets on the ground at his feet- tainting the fresh white snow. The heat was burning through him- scorching the inside of his head it felt.

Drummer Boy took out the back and tried to configure a way of how to get out of this.

If there was one thing he was good at in the field, it was thinking on his feet- and the first thing his mind locked onto was the rounded shell just barely peeking out from the dirt mound a few feet from him.

The adrenaline was kicking in now and it was a hell of a stimulant as he pushed himself to the next house and ducked along the back wall; he was certainly thankful now that all the pre-war houses seemed to have been built the exact same. Bloodied fingers quickly scooped up a rock by his feet and he stopped long enough to turn and chuck it at the dirt mound- bouncing the rock hard off the shell of a freshly-pissed off Mirelurk.

The thing gave a brief, gurgling shriek as it emerged from its slumber.

And luck would be on his side as the Mirelurk emerged facing the other house- just as the Courser became visible in the doorway, and just as he barely concealed himself from sight. The pissed-off, mutated sea creature didn't so much as look in Drummer Boy's direction before it scurried off towards the Courser- ready to defend its water-lodged territory.

He had lead the creature to its death but with the hope that it would make for enough of a distraction.

Enough for him to get to the collapsed bridge sitting on the coast line and duck in through the abandoned maintenance tunnel- pulling the iron door tightly closed behind him in eerie silence.

It was pitch-dark inside of the abandoned tunnel but the emergency lights flickered on and off at the hint of movement. The lights were dim and barely lit much, but they gave out enough to offer some hint as to where he was going- although he had traveled this path a few times before and had the tunnels partly memorized.

Drummer Boy could hear the hollowed echo of his footsteps in the tight corridor as he stumbled around abandoned equipment, desperate to keep moving forward. There would still be blood in the house, blood in the snow- a track that the Courser could follow. If he was lucky, the Courser would get the blood in the snow mixed up with that of the Mirelurk and ignore it. But there was no telling.

There was no telling how far a Courser's intelligence would take them.

He was pressing his luck enough as it was.

It felt like his entire left arm was paralyzed- and the feeling was quickly spreading across his chest now. Drummer Boy tried to keep it braced against his chest, but it was hard to ignore how the burning sensation was moving up along his neck, along his throat- making his jacket all the more uncomfortable now. It was barely double-digits outside, and yet he was so hot; he swore he was sweating bullets at this point.

It was so cold, but the air he was pulling in felt like it burned all the way down to his lungs.

He was losing blood fast and the adrenaline was just barely enough now to outweigh the shock from the wound.

...

He couldn't risk going back to Ticonderoga though.

And he couldn't risk returning to HQ either.