Chapter 12

Maxwell's Silver Hammer

"If the Army and the Navy

Ever look on Heaven's scenes,

They'll find the streets are guarded

By United States Marines."

-Unknown

I've always wanted to leave D.C, but I wouldn't do so without company. It was as if I was held back. This feeling was both before I made connections and after. It was always a part of me. I'd try every so often, both with and without bonds between myself and others just to leave my home. Every time I'd turn back. There was always something missing.

I eventually concluded that I wouldn't see the world beyond my home without company. I didn't feel like I could take in or appreciate the beauty of new land and unfamiliar territory without someone with me. Then, I finally had companionship. I had Cord, the young man that might have been the luckiest radiation victim on the face of the Earth, a man that I thought I knew, a group that I thought had the best interests of mine and my own at heart, and most of all...

Milly.

Cord was killed, her father died, the group cared little for us, but Milly was still here.

So when she broke down into tears while we fled the camp of funny dressed men that nearly cost us our lives, I had to show her that I was here for her.

I knew what she ended up doing to get what she wanted. It was an act that, for humans, was meant to be reserved for a lover. Milly shared no love for her targets, and wanted to save herself for the one she wanted to be with.

She had to sacrifice one ideal in order to save both her life, my life, and quite possibly, the lives of all in our world.

Fortitude stopped moving of my command and I bit down on her pants leg to try to get her off his back.

I refused to leave her side for even a second while she tried to put the incident behind her.

..."Put the incident behind her". Am I a bad companion for thinking that something such as what she did for her freedom could be put behind her so quickly? Am I worse still for thinking that it could be put behind her at all?

I felt a pang of fear again. What happened came very near to rape. I fear for her well being. What happened can change someone. I feared her becoming withdrawn from me, or worse, becoming a bad person, or worse still, becoming Nickel-Eye.

It became apparent to me while I was in thought that she was hugging me now. I wasn't crying until I realized she was hugging me. I was more metal than dog now. I could feel very little of her touch, and that my shiny eye wouldn't shed tears only made me cry more.

The horse, though very withdrawn, was gracious enough to give us time together. He patiently and quietly waited a few feet away, always prepared to continue on the road.

We didn't get back on the road that day. Instead, we set up camp in the middle of nowhere and were quiet.

While we sat by the fire Milly tended, she listened to her radio. Here, wherever we were, there was a limited selection. There was a radio station dedicated exclusively to white noise called "KCUF Pressing Issues", likely too far in one direction or the other to be of any service to us right now. The only other choice was a station called "Big Brother". That was the actual name. Milly read both stations aloud, and when the former didn't work, we turned to the latter.

It was a similar station to the one the bad tin men had before we made them blow up. Essentially, it spent it's lecture spouting nonsense about restoring peace at long last. It claimed to have humanity's best interests at hand, and so too believed that humanity needed to be protected from itself.

I didn't listen too closely to the station, but the last thing the host said (his name was Andrew Vidic) was "The father of understanding guides us" or something. I don't know who the father of understanding is, but the wasteland we were currently in wasn't doing too well, so I figured the station was full of it.

The man wasn't referring to God. Midway through the broadcast (I remember this part), he said his group believed in no God. Then that group essentially went on to belittle religious belief with an obsession towards "reality" that bordered on... religious belief.

That station didn't even have any music after news/propoganda. Though it was turned on by Milly in an attempt at helping her stress levels, it only bothered her even more. She even considered trying to talk to Nickel-Eye again, but she decided against it.

So we continued for a fortnight in this fashion, making enough progress that the day wasn't a total waste, but still taking longer breaks. The distance between the previous target and the next was large.

No, I'm not suggesting we made the trip in the span of fourteen days. It took longer than that (a bit over three weeks, I think).

During that time, "Pressing Issues" came into focus for us, and it was a good station, but that's not the thing that we paid most of our attention to.

She lost her appetite from the day we escaped that camp, but she didn't openly start feeling very ill until the second week, and she didn't start throwing up until then, either. She had extensive medical knowledge from her time in the Vault, and though I made attempts at showing my interest in what the problem was, she told me it was nothing; that the food we ate the night before didn't sit well with her or something. I knew that wasn't true, because she didn't eat enough to get that sick.

I knew she knew what was really wrong, because of the look of horror she had on her face. We rode, she practiced with her weapons, and we made progress, but it seemed like the look never left her face. From morning until night for a week after she started showing signs of illness, it seemed like the expression on her face was always that same look of shock.

About me and travelling: I never had an issue running around all day, because at one point in my life I was essentially a pack mule. My first human had no Brahmin to carry his junk (a brahmin being the mode of transport of choice in D.C for both people and supplies alike, but apparently cost a lot more money than the horse did), so if I was used to running across D.C quickly while carrying a good portion of whatever he found, I could run across the world without anything on my back if I had to.

I used to think that Milly would be impressed with my endurance, but she attributed it mainly to my being mostly shiny now. Perhaps it is the reason, in part. I don't know.

The experience still bothers me. Nearly dying, that is. It wasn't that it hurt that bothered me (it hurt for a few moments, and then I felt outside myself for a while, until I woke up as I am now). It was the fact that I was going to fail my promise to Milly. I swore to protect her with my life, and I was going to die in a flying machine crash because of a man's bumbling.

So, while I was running beside she and the horse one of those days, the latter and I had a bit of a conversation.

"What's that look on your face?"

I eyed the horse while we ran.

"She considers me over-protective, and Cord did while he was alive, too, but... since his death, I've been watching over Milly..."

I paused a moment, and then continued after finding appropriate words.

"...well, before his death, I was watching over Milly like a hawk. After it, I was watching over Milly like two hawks. But, said hawks are both mostly shiny now, and one of their eyes is funny. Also, since these hawks are shiny, they cannot fly effectively. The weight of their new bodies would weigh them down very much so, and they'd hit the ground with a lot of force, probably..."

"...what the hell are you talking about?"

"I don't know, I'm just worried about her. Just... keep running."

Our trip continued in a matter like that. I'd converse a little with the horse, try to get something, anything out of Milly, but Fortitude was detached most of the time and Milly was... Milly.

She could be detached, too, but never from me. If something bothered her, I was always the first to know (at least in the time that I'd known her and chosen her as my human). That she'd deflect my stares and say it was nothing disturbed me.

The new target was in a place called "Dallas", and it seemed like the closer we got, the more frequently we'd run into trouble. No, we didn't run into many Legionaries on the way there, but we ran into mutants of all shapes and sizes.

Super Mutants were one of our constant threats, and it was through defending herself from them that Milly lost a lot of ammunition for her rifle. I don't think she had fifteen rounds left by the time we reached the camp.

Though news of our exploits were spreading throughout the wastes, we continued to avoid busy settlements. Every so often we'd go into small towns for a few supplies, information, or if we were sick of sleeping in the open (Fortitude came with a tent that could house Milly and I, and some of our supplies, but little else). Even in those instances, we'd do what we needed, and leave quietly. A rumor started going around that Milly had been killed in the flying machine crash, and her ghost was seeking revenge on the Legion.

Rebellions, as we expected, were started shortly after the assassinations so far. In Tennessee, the Legion was fighting a losing battle against rebels, and in Chicago, they were in a stalemate with rebels. We knew not to expect such acts from some of the territories, as some were Legion loyalists. Dallas was one such territory, so we all had the good sense to avoid any major settlements in the state we were in (I think Milly called it "Texas").

Dallas' camp wasn't located in the city itself, but rather at the top of a tall hill, likely a homage to the idea that the Legion sees all.

We could've simply rode through Dallas and headed straight for the bald man himself. Come to think of it, we didn't have to kill anybody save for those men in self defense, but this wasn't a mission of such a trivial matter as revenge alone.

Milly had a vendetta against Caesar (the bald man). If disorganizing the men controlling his other territories would bother him, we'd do it. I wondered briefly what he was thinking of Milly right now. He probably thought she got lucky, assuming he heard what happened last; how she was nearly caught.

She only seemed to get more distant from me while we rode for the camp. I found myself up on some nights without a chance for sleep, for fear of what Milly might become.

We weren't feeling so great about this attempt when a Legionary approached us, and said that the very man she was to kill (a man named Maxwell) wanted to speak with her.

He was with a group of other Legionaries, and though we weren't forced, Milly must've decided that going along with this request might be easier than sneaking into the camp, so we obliged to meet with him inside his camp. In order to do so, Milly was permitted to keep her weapons, and Fortitude followed with me. As long as the weapons she brought stayed out of her hands, she would not be harmed.

Additionally, I was also to remain by her side at all times, which suited me just fine, because I had no intention of leaving her side anyway.

All around the Legionary camp, stools, tables, weapon stands, and other such constructs scattered the ground. No, not so many that it was impossible to move, and not so many that it called attention to itself at every point, but there were enough pieces of furniture out of the ordinary to remind me something Milly mentioned while reading some of the intel she had on this target.

He made a hobby of building, and as the intel suggested, was also the least likely to make good decisions (bolstering that assumption was the fact that he requested Milly's presence, and at the same time, allowed her to keep her weaponry).

He wasn't a very tall man. Milly was about a head bigger than he was, and she's only barely 5' 5". He wasn't tall, and he didn't look very talented, either. I overheard a Legionary, while we were walking, saying that the only reason Maxwell had the title of Centurion at all was because his father and the bald man were great friends.

When he saw us approach, he grinned an ugly grin.

"One-oh-One! It's about time you showed up!"

He looked at the men that led us to him and his grin vanished. He waved them off with one hand, and turned about, beckoning us to follow.

"I've been imagining this meeting for a long time. Have you?"

"In my version of it, I'm staring at you through my scope, and you're choking to death on your life blood. Is that how you imagined it?"

He laughed sourly. "I can't say it is, no."

All was silent for a moment. We kept walking, and the Legionaries kept staring.

"Why am I here? Slavery? You shouldn't have let me keep my weapons if that's the case."

"I want to talk about it, but I wasn't intending on us fighting, or making you a slave."

"Then what do you want?"

I looked up at Milly, and saw her eyeing a silver hammer in the man's back pocket. The stare wasn't long, because he whirled around to her without warning and kept talking.

"Well, for one thing, I wanted to meet the harbinger of death for the Enclave, and for another thing, I want to strike a truce with you."

"Peace does not come cheap if I hold your name to a hit list."

His smile weakened for a moment, but it flared right back up again.

"No problem! No problem! You'll love what my deal is."

"Your diplomacy does not interest me. You'd better get to the point."

"Right. Well, you and I certainly agree that the best thing for this world is peace."

Milly crossed her arms while she walked.

"I certainly think that, but I don't know about you."

"Believe it or not, that's what the Legion is all about: peace, above all things. Necessity, calculations, competence. These things drive us, much like they drive you. We only seek peace through different methods."

"You seek peace through severe punishment to those who think differently than you. I seek peace through the destruction of people like you."

"That is why you're steering wrong. Come back to us, One-oh-One. We both believed the same thing once. Didn't you realize that?"

"I never believed that conformity was the only road to peace. That's on you. Now, tell me about this "deal" of yours, or I'll make you eat a bullet."

"Join us! We are impressed with your audacity. Most who threaten the Legion do so over a radio, and when we find them, they are all talk and no fight... You, however... You're unique. Canonical babbling is not enough for you. You don't stop until blood has fallen. You punish those who you think defy you. You are a Legionary."

Milly stared at the back of his head while he walked and talked.

"Join you? You killed my best friend. You view me as a liability-"

"No, Caesar does! Caesar is the one that ordered the attack, and when the powers that be make a command, you'd better fill it."

"Why should I even listen to this anymore?"

"You're like me. You know more than the average wanderer. You, much like I, know that the ends justify the means. Peace must be achieved."

He whirled around to my Milly again.

"The death of your pet was awful. He knew his place. He knew who his master was. We have deathclaws to train. You can have your friend back. Just accept the offer. Become a Legionary. It's the best course of action here, One-oh-One. Think about it: join the Legion, get income, be the very source of fear among your enemies, live in a comfortable setting... keep the weak down."

Milly stared blankly.

"The saying is 'the meek shall inherit the earth'."

"We intend to fix that saying. Join the Legion, and become history itself. Become a legendary that dwarfs the guardians."

The way she eyed him... it seemed like she was going to say yes. I knew the next thing out of her mouth wouldn't be 'no'. She looked down at me, and I willed my eyes to tell her how much against this consideration I was.

They stared at each other for a moment or two, and Maxwell suddenly whirled around again and continued walking.

"You're thinking. I get it. You need some time, that's all. Get back to me with an answer!"

He walked into his tent, and it was only then that I noticed the hammer she was holding behind her back.

Upon his entry into the tent, I remembered once again what his hobby was. Maxwell found a passion in building. Milly used his hammer for something else.

She made sure that grey matter was leaking from his skull after the second hit. The attack wasn't easy on her, though. No, I don't mean that she liked this scum and found it difficult in that sense. I mean the fact that she cracked his skull open at close range. Milly never liked close quarters combat. She was Nickel-Eye's worst enemy when he tried to teach her "Sambo", and she hated using knives, too. She'd use both of these things, but not without flinching in some way.

She gagged when she saw what she'd managed to do. It made her already uneasy stomach do flips, but she held back any vomit that might have tried to make its way up. Me? I've ripped the throats out of various creatures in my life, and I've even eaten a few creatures alive. I'm used to gross scenes.

The attack, though silent and quite resourceful, still brought Milly some pursuers when she whistled for her horse and mounted him. She shot and killed one of her pursuers with her P99, and spurred Fortitude to gallop.

We were quiet for a few moments running. I took note of the emotionless expression on my human's face as she stared straight ahead. I wanted to nudge her, but a loud "Pang!" interrupted, and I glanced back at one of my shiny legs.

A bullet had ricocheted off my shiny leg and dug itself into Fortitude's leg, leading him to move faster, as instinct took hold and he only wanted to get to safety. It wasn't long before he was in a full blown stampede and Milly was trying to control him and return fire at the same time.

Bullets that ricochet off things and hit living beings aren't as likely to kill, but they do hurt like no tomorrow. Before I was shiny, I got hit by bullet ricochets and they hurt a lot. Getting a bullet removed is never fun, but getting a bullet that ricocheted removed seems to hurt worse.

We don't always remove the bullets embedded in our bodies (Milly actually has a bullet in her shoulderblade that was better off remaining where it was, and it's been there since a few years ago) because sometimes it could cause more harm than good. By the end, I think Cord had about fifty small arms bullets in his body. I remember having at least two or three.

As long as they don't move around too much, it's okay. The bullets in our bodies are far enough from any critical blood vessels that they're fine alone. Even so, we remove ricochets from ourselves at all times, because a ricochet can leave a bullet with an unusual shape; sometimes almost blade-like. We don't take chances in leaving a potentially sharp bullet inside bodies, so they're always removed. The ricochet, that is.

Milly was firing randomly, trying to stay balanced on the horse, and also trying to steer him in the remotest fashion all at the same time. I was trying to calm him down, telling him not to be afraid and that it'd be over soon. I didn't hold his reaction against him. It was in his nature to panic and try to escape anything that caused too much pain.

It's what horses do. Call it experience with Fortitude, or simple innate intuition, but instinct leads in some situations. That goes not only for horses, but for dogs, deathclaws, and even humans.

Her random firing didn't hit any of the Legionaries, but it scattered them a little bit, because the horses they were chasing us on got panicky as well. There were three of them chasing us (Milly managed to kill the first before the chase really started). We weren't really concerned where we were going at the moment. After the chase was over, we'd regroup and find the right direction.

When Milly finally got Fortitude under control again (more or less, anyway), a stray bullet from one of the Legionary handguns caught her sniper rifle and rendered it baggage until she could get around to fixing it. She fired back and managed to hit another Legionary, not killing him immediately, but knocking him off his horse and resulting in his being dragged to death by the still stampeding animal.

She had a clear shot at one other Legionary, but when she pulled the trigger, the gun jammed. She quickly holstered it without a word and tugged at a sack she kept before her while she rode.

At a city loyal to our cause a state back, Milly was given a few boom balls and bang balls as a gift (and if you're not aware of what a boom ball is, it's a funny looking ball that Milly pulls on, throws, and it blows up, and a bang ball makes a loud "bang!" and a bright flash). She kept them in the sack in case she needed them, and as fate would have it, this would be one of those times. While spurring Fortitude to speed up, she took out one of each ball, played around with them for a second, and then threw both behind her at the Legionaries.

The bang ball blinded and disoriented both them and their horses (but it startled Fortitude and made him start running wildly again). The boom ball killed one of the men and his horse, and the other horse and man were both injured by the shrapnel, leading the Legionary to lose control and eventually get thrown from his horse down a cliff we were riding near.

It wasn't until we stopped about twenty minutes later that Milly looked at where we were on her wrist machine, and then adjusted to be back on course. We didn't continue much further after that, but we weren't being tailed as far as we could tell yet. Once we stopped, Milly looked over Fortitude's wounds, and the bullet that bounced off me.

I wasn't injured at all, as the bullet only bounced off one of my shiny legs. Fortitude wasn't seriously injured by the bullet, as was expected, but we still needed to remove the round from his leg, which meant basically poking around in his clotted up wound to search for a piece of metal.

He let out agonized sounds, but he stifled them as much as he could. Milly didn't name him Fortitude for nothing, after all.

While she treated him, she was soothing him, trying to tell him to stay calm. She wanted him to trust her, and for a while I thought she was just acting like that so he didn't get too spooked. However, after it was said and done, she smiled at him for a while and ran her hand on his side. She saw the intelligence in his eyes, and I wondered what she thought of animals like us.

I mean animals that have either evolved or endured mutation both genetic and radioactive. Those of us that can think beyond instinct telling us "eateateateateateateateateate ateateatsleepsleepsleepsleep sleepsleepsleepsleepmatemate matematematematematematedie".

Instinct is always there, of course. However, rather than have a tight grip on us (as animals), it's the instinctual hold on a human: a simple digit, reminding us that we are living things on a scorched planet, and though we are not puppets of nature anymore, we can be in certain situations.

This escape was the first time I saw Fortitude's instincts show. He acted in ways I never thought I'd see him act, and though the escape resulted in the wounding of the horse, I was happy when I looked up at my Milly, seeing her smile as she patted Fortitude.

She was coming around again.

End of Chapter

4,334 words.

This is much more effective if you read Maxwell's death while listening to "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" by The Beatles. Either that, or imagine sound effects with it. "KRRRRUNCH!" "THUD!" "TING!" "CRACK!"

Alright, next chapter covers Nikolai's next attack, and whether or not the weather will weather his attacks. Weather.