"Just once, I'd like to have someone offer to help without needing an entire fucking quest in return," Rose grumbled.
The Railroad had indeed been willing to help her find a way to infiltrate the Institute… but only if she agreed to help them find a way to free the synths still enslaved there. Rose hadn't objected in the slightest… her friendship with Nick Valentine had more than convinced her that synths were thinking, feeling individuals who deserved the same rights and freedom as everyone else. Rather, her frustration stemmed from the amount of work and time the secretive group was asking of her. In spite of Deacon's confidence, Desdemona still insisted on a sort of test run to prove their loyalty. She had sent the three of them- Rose, Hancock, and Dogmeat- out with Deacon to a place called the Switchboard, which was the old Railroad headquarters before it became overrun with enemy synths. They had recovered a prototype there for Doc Carrington, the Railroad's resident physician, with little trouble; the place was manned by nothing but Gen 1's, which were a piece of cake after taking on Kellogg's fortress.
Their success helped to initiate them into the shadowy organization, but Desdemona was nothing if not thorough. She immediately sent the group out to check on a safehouse upon their return; no one had heard from the agents there in a while, and there was concern that it had been lost to the Institute. The safehouse in question was beneath a warehouse located in Cambridge, near the riverfront. Deacon had stayed behind for this second mission, claiming his talents were needed elsewhere, but Rose didn't mind; it meant she could complain openly about their new "friends."
"Ordinarily, I'd agree with ya," Hancock said in response to her grousing, as they cautiously navigated through the empty streets. "The Railroad's one of the few outfits with an actually commendable cause, though. If we have to kiss anyone's ass to help get your kid back, might as well be them."
Rose sighed. "I suppose you're right."
They had reached the riverfront. Rose swept her eyes up and down the line of old warehouses, pubs, and office buildings, searching for the telltale rail signs that would help identify the safehouse. She spotted a sun-like shape with an arrow in the middle pointing to the west painted on a bench facing the water; there was only one warehouse in that direction, so she knew that had to be what they were looking for.
Dogmeat went ahead of them, sniffing intently at the ground with his ears pricked for any sign of danger. No traps went off and the air wasn't filled with the glow of laser beams as he approached the door, which was an encouraging sign. If the Institute had been present, the synths would definitely have reacted to three unknown travelers strolling up to the building.
If there had ever been a safehouse situated in that basement, it was long gone. They had found nothing but a few smashed terminals, empty boxes of ammo, and a couple of abandoned cots. There were no signs of a struggle, which meant that either the agent running the safehouse had been spooked by the Institute and lit out before they could be discovered; or that the Institute had successfully infiltrated them, and had recovered the synths before shutting down the operation. Unfortunately, the Railroad would have no way of knowing unless the agent decided to make contact. Desdemona wasn't going to be happy, and as they ascended back to the ground floor Rose could already hear her voice barking out orders to find out what happened.
"Freeze, civilians!"
Both Rose and Hancock did the opposite, diving for cover as the loud command echoed through the empty building. Rose heard the unmistakable hum of laser rifles powering up, but that hadn't sounded like the flat, emotionless tone of a Gen 1or 2 synth, or a Courser. She peeked around the crates they had hidden behind, and was hit by an immediate flare of annoyance and concern. Three soldier types were standing near the entrance, rifles trained on their general location; one of them was wearing a formidable set of power armor. The sight clicked with the tone of the command, and Rose audibly groaned as she realized who they were dealing with.
"Is that who I think it is?" Hancock asked, reading the recognition on her face. "What's the Brotherhood of Steel want with this place?"
"Come out slowly and you won't be harmed," the soldier in the power armor ordered. Rose knew by the slightly tinny (but strongly masculine) voice that it was Paladin Danse. They had helped Danse and what was left of his unit fight off an onslaught of hungry ferals once; the encounter hadn't ended well. Rather than express gratitude, the paladin had attacked Hancock's character, fueled by ignorance and the prejudice the Brotherhood fostered against anyone not considered traditionally human. Rose had essentially verbally torn him a new one for being such an ass, so Danse wasn't likely to have any warm feelings left over for the two of them.
Beside them, Dogmeat growled, and unexpectedly lunged out towards the cautiously approaching soldiers. Rose cursed and flung herself after him, narrowly catching the chain that served as a collar. She tugged him back with one hand and frantically threw up the other in a harried gesture of peace.
"Don't shoot! He's just protecting us, I've got him!"
"You would be the one to get yourself shot for a mutt," Hancock muttered in disbelief, coming out next to her to help rein in Dogmeat.
"Control your animal, civilians, or we will be forced to put it down," Danse said sternly.
Rose gave him a scathing look. "Give me a break. You came at us with guns first."
Danse paused and stared at her, cocking his helmeted head. "Wait… I remember you two. You assisted with the ghoul attack some weeks back."
"Great way to pay us back, holding us at gunpoint," Hancock observed dryly.
"I'd watch what you say if I were you, degenerate," one of the other soldiers, a man with a shaved head, snapped.
"The Brotherhood killin' people for pointing out the obvious now?"
Rose stepped in. "How about we avoid the fighting for once?" She stood with her hand still on Dogmeat's chain, and faced Danse squarely. "He has a point, though, Danse. We helped you once. What's with the hostility? We haven't done anything to you or to the Brotherhood."
"As it happens, we're on orders to investigate the area," Danse replied, a tinge of anger in his words. "There's been a lot of odd radio activity in area, and movement that doesn't seem related to supermutants or any of the raider gangs." He stared at her for a moment longer; it was impossible to tell what he was thinking beneath the power armor helmet.
"I've heard rumors about a woman and a ghoul who've been making waves in the Commonwealth," he said at length. "Given that, it seems like more than coincidence that we'd find you back in this area again. I think it's best if you come with us to answer a few questions."
Hancock made a low hum of disapproval, and Rose grimaced.
"Are we under arrest?"
Rose's question had been sarcastic, but Danse took it literally. "Look at it this way… you can cooperate, and there's no need for violence."
Outside, a rumble of thunder shuddered through the air. Rose shifted her gaze out the open warehouse door and could see the yellow-green clouds of a radiation storm moving in swiftly, the occasional lightning bolt illuminating the citrine haze.
"And seeing as a rad storm is on its way, I'm betting you two could use a place to ride out the weather," Danse continued, his tone self-satisfied. "Well, one of you, anyway."
Hancock rolled his eyes at the veiled insult in the paladin's words, but didn't rise to the bait. Rose held her tongue as well, though her jaw was clenched in frustration. The last thing she wanted was to waste hours- or even the rest of the night, depending on the storm- sitting pretty with the Brotherhood of Steel. But the other soldiers had yet to lower their weapons, and she knew from living with her father and Nate that cooperating with a military organization would likely keep them alive much longer. If they refused, Danse would likely feel the need to assert his authority; and their refusal would make him that much more interested in why they were poking around in the basement of a supposedly abandoned warehouse.
She glanced up at Hancock and could tell by his frown that he had reached the same conclusion she had. Exhaling slowly, she slung her shotgun across her back, and raised her open palms. Hancock reluctantly did the same, and she breathed a silent sigh of relief when the unit finally lowered their barrels to the floor.
"You sure about this, doll?" Hancock asked quietly, as Danse beckoned for them to come forward.
"No," Rose admitted. "Not much of a choice, though. I'll think of something."
"There'll be more than enough time for talk once we get back to the precinct," Danse cut in. "Move out."
Danse and his soldiers were reasonably well-behaved on the long walk back to the run-down police station, but it was painfully obvious who they were taking to be the bigger threat. Rose walked for the most part uninhibited by Danse's side, flanked only by Dogmeat and the paladin himself. The other two soldiers were tight on Hancock, their hands resting on the butts of their weapons and their gazes tight with distaste. Rose found their blatant racism infuriating; the Brotherhood believed ghouls to be little better than the other monsters of the Commonwealth, thinking them naturally inclined towards violence and criminal behavior. The prejudice went so deep that Danse had wholeheartedly taken Rose to be Hancock's unwilling captive when they had worked together to save him from being eaten alive by the ferals.
As they walked, they passed by the dilapidated bar that Rose and Hancock had once used for shelter. Rose felt herself automatically flush as the memory of her disastrous first attempt to seduce Hancock rose to the forefront of her thoughts. Hancock caught the line of her gaze as they walked and smirked; with a quick shake of his head, he put an arm around her waist and brought her hand quickly to his thin lips. Each soldier, Danse included, tensed at the sight, like he had gone to slit her throat rather than show affection. Rose gave Danse a withering look while furtively pinching Hancock's side; she knew he had done that to get a reaction out of their escorts as much as share the memory with her. He didn't flinch, but she could feel him silently chuckling.
It was going to be a long evening.