Chapter 3
He leaned his head back against the wall of the husk of a diner he was hiding in. The warm blood once against pulsed against his fingers from the large wound in his side. By now he was certain it was infected, and he would be pleasantly surprised if he didn't have sepsis at this point. Pushing himself to his feet, he coughed, sending a jolt of pain across his whole body.
He'd been tracking a group of Raiders since they'd hit Covenant and would've had them, except Super Mutants had forced him to give up the pursuit. In the process, one of them had thrown a grenade, which had ripped a large wound in his right side.
If he bled out now, though, the data he'd collected would never get back to the Brotherhood, nor would anyone likely come to look for him. The nature of his position—and thusly his mission—meant he was only known by a handful of people in the Brotherhood.
After a second to steady himself, he slowly staggered out of the building. Taking in his surroundings, he reached down and pulled on the leather cord attached to a belt loop on his right side. Pulling up a compass, he looked at it, before looking around, squinting against the sun.
He needed to head both west and north. It was long enough when he wasn't injured, but in his current state, he wasn't sure he could make it. Sighing, he dropped the compass and headed off, slowly, heading west. He'd made it approximately halfway before he fell down, just laying on the ground for about 10 minutes, face first in the rubble.
He really didn't know where—or what—he was looking for, merely that there should be another Brotherhood unit in the area. Somewhere. Sitting up, Lawrence noticed he was near Diamond City. His stuff was still hidden there, in a spot where even if someone saw the pack, they couldn't get to it, nor would they have the code to open it. But he couldn't go back. Not yet. Not in this condition.
He struggled to get into his waist pouch with his right hand—his left was still firmly pressed against his wound, which had previously stopped bleeding but was now bleeding again—with the pouch on his left side. He eventually got the flap open, quietly cursing snap closures. Wrangling out a bundle of papers, wrapped in a waterproof cover. Holding it down with his knee, he used his available hand to undo the string-wrap closure and pull the cover open. Rifling through the papers within, he finally found what he was looking for.
Holding the map in his mouth, he closed the cover again, wrangling it back into the pouch, and not bothering to secure the pouch immediately. Next, he reach down to the only surviving leg pouch, thankfully on the right this time, and extracted a wooden tile with coordinates painted onto it. He then spread the map out in front of him, using his left knee as a way to hold it down.
Lining up the coordinates wasn't easy—the map was a pre-war version—but he eventually got it lined up, and the map pointed him to Cambridge Police Station. It was thankfully in the same direction he'd been heading, but unfortunately, still across the bridge a ways. Sighing, he pushed himself to his feet, staggering over to lean against a nearby wall as his vision swam.
Stuffing the tile and map back into his leg pouch roughly—he wasn't concerned about it getting damaged at this point—he set off slowly towards Cambridge. He had to hope that he would be able to make it all the way to the Police Station after the bridge. He had left his weapons and ammunition back with his stuff in Diamond City. After all, this had merely been a data-collecting operation, not a combat one.
After what seemed like a year, but only about 3 hours, he finally made it. He saw the half-wall barricades and the hastily-constructed wooden gantry around the front. As he approached the door, everything went black.
Waking up sometime later, he noticed that something felt off about his clothing. Looking down, he noticed he was wearing a cotton t shirt and jeans. The stinging pain in his side told him he'd been stitched up, but by whom—and where his stuff was—he had no clue.
Sitting up, he took in the room. He'd been laying on one of two sleeping bags by the wall, off to the left was a table, likely for eating and relaxing, as well as a terminal. To the right was a counter with some gear on it. Shakily getting himself to his feet, he walked over. In the ammo box sitting there were some fusion cells, as well as a handful on the counter itself, next to the box were two stimpaks and a pipe gun. It was as good as any, he figured, as he picked it up.
Turning, he slipped into the next room though the door, and slowly ascended the stairs. Reaching the top, he poked his head out the door. He saw an empty helipad and that was about it. No one present.
Retreating back down the stairs, he heard a commotion out in the main room, and as he approached the last turn, he stopped to listen.
"Are you sure he was here, Haylen? I don't see any evidence of someone being here"
"Positive, sir. I sewed up the wound in his side myself sir, you can even see the bloody uniform in the holding cells."
The holding cells, bingo. As he emerged from the hallway, he only halfway brought the pistol up, before realizing who the man speaking was.
"If it isn't Danse. I'd stick around and chit chat with you and your team, but I have gear to collect." Lawrence said very quickly, moving to go get his stuff from the holding cells.
"Stop. Right now." Danse said firmly, stopping Lawrence mid-stride. "You may be the higher ranking officer, but this is my team's base, and I give the orders here."
Lawrence looked over at Haylen for a moment, before leveling the pistol at her. "Let me get my gear. I've got important documents in there that are critical to my mission."
Danse looked between Lawrence and Haylen. "Let her go, then fine. But I will be informing Elder Maxson about this."
Lawrence shrugged before running back to get his gear. He grabbed everything except his old uniform, returning to the main room, and putting on his leg pouch as he shrugged. "Go for it. I doubt he'll do much. Remember, he's nearly 400 miles away. What's he gonna do?"
At that, he dropped the pistol and darted out the door.
After a few moments to calm down, Haylen spoke up. "Sir, if I may? Who was that?"
Danse sighed, "I'm not even supposed to know about him, but because he might have turned up, Elder Maxson gave me the bare bones details about him. All I can tell you is to remember the name Lawrence Carter."
At that, Danse climbed down out of his Power Armor, stretching for a moment before sitting down at the terminal, "and with that, I have to make a report for Elder Maxson."
Two hours later, Lawrence walked into Diamond City. Handing Nat five caps, he slipped into Publick Occurrences and up the stairs. Emerging onto the terrace, he smiled. His pack was still there, just as promised. He grabbed it from on top of the tires, moving the top one to the side, the other two (which had no rims) were a perfect storage container for his weapons.
He strapped the rifle to his back, his ballistic pistol on his left, and the laser pistol on his right. He returned the tires back to their regular position, before jumping down to the ground off the roof. Nearly toppling over, he righted himself, he had been slacking on maneuver training while fully kitted out, so he wasn't used to jumping such a distance with his entire kit on.
"Hey there, soldier, heading out?" Piper asked him, as he landed next to her.
"Not quite yet, Piper. I got a few things I need to retrieve. Speaking of, you have those documents on McDonough?" Lawrence asked, casting a glance around them.
"Yeah, here." Piper said, handing him a folder, full of papers, photos, and intercepted correspondence. "It wasn't easy to get."
"Oh I imagine. As I've told you before, the Brotherhood believes in paying all of it's debts. How's 500 caps sound?"
Piper sputtered, "why so much?!"
"You not only got all of this for me," Lawrence tapped the folder with the first two finger of one hand, "but you've pretty much made this entire operation incredibly easy for me, it's the least I could do."
"Yes! That's perfectly fine!"
Lawrence put his pack down, kneeling down and opening it, he placed the folder inside, before pulling out a large wooden box. Opening that, he counted out five-hundred caps before handing them to Piper.
Placing everything back as it was, he continued. "I'm going to go out the back way. Cover for me." He was referring to a secret brush-covered tunnel under the stage that lead out of town through the back wall.
"Got it." Piper said, winking. Lawrence quietly walked through the town, heading for the stage, occasionally handing someone a cap or two, or exchanging a nod with the guards.
As he reach the stage, he smiled slightly as he heard Piper's distant shouting. He couldn't make out the words, but he didn't need to, as he noticed people moving to listen to her, he made his move, moving the thick brush away from the tunnel and dropping into it.
He had to move at a crouch, but he could just keep heading straight and he'd eventually cross the green wall then be out of the city at the next exit. This was actually a network of tunnels, but without a flashlight he hadn't explored any of them.
After 20 minutes he finally popped up inside a derelict building, hauling himself out of the hole and dusting himself off. He winced at the renewed stinging in his side, and pulled up his shirt to check the stitches had—thankfully—not popped on him.
Picking a direction, he set off walking.
Two days later, he was scouting out locations around Fort Hagen, when he heard something interesting. It sounded almost like a group of Vertibirds. It can't be. The nearest flyable Vertibirds are in the Capital Wasteland. He thought, before shrugging it off. As he continued his sneaking around to check out different buildings, he heard it.
"People of the Commonwealth. Do not interfere. Our intentions are peaceful. We are the Brotherhood of Steel." Coming out of massive speakers was impossible to miss. And Lawrence quickly ran out into the open to confirm his suspicions.
You couldn't mistake the Prydwen for anything but the beautiful massive airship she was, and here she was in the Commonwealth. Though he wasn't sure how he was going to get up there, Lawrence relaxed in the sight. This meant he no longer had to figure out how to gain access to either a secured terminal or a two-way radio with a 400 mile range to get a ride back.
But this also meant that Elder Maxson was here, which made his job even easier. He could deliver his intel personally, versus merely handing it to the first scribe he found. As he considered all these options, he was pulled out of his thoughts by the sounds of a close Vertibird, and the dirt and dust being thrown up by it landing.
Lawrence looked over, and saw a knight waving him onto the Vertibird. Climbing on, Lawrence took up resident on the seat opposite the gun door. The ride to the Prydwen was mostly uneventful, with the exception of a lot of hovering as the ship got docked by the airport.
Once it was docked, the Vertibird docked with it. Following the Knight off, Lawrence took in the somewhat-familiar view of the ship. He was broken out of his thoughts, this time, by the voice of Lancer-Captain Kells.
"Elder Maxson wants to see you. Now. Carter." Kells was one of the few people who actually knew who he was, and he had a small feeling of dread crop up into the back of his mind.
"Right. Command deck?" He asked in response, heading for the stairs.
"Affirmative. Don't leave him waiting, he didn't seem happy."
Oh geez, what did I do this time? Lawrence thought as he slipped into the command deck of the Prydwen. Elder Maxson was standing facing the door, so of course he'd see him enter.
"Get over here RIGHT NOW SWORDSMAN!" Maxson shouted, causing Lawrence to hurry over, looking at the floor. As he came to a stop in front of the Elder, he came to attention, feeling too formal for what's normally a less formal relationship.
"Paladin Danse told me what you did at the Police Station. We'll need to deal with that, but first, at ease." Lawrence relaxed, letting out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. "I understand you have important data for me about our enemies in the area."
"I do." Lawrence said, dropping his pack to the ground. Opening it, he pulled out three folders, and the waterproof folder from his waist pouch, handing all four items over. "Raiders, multiple gangs. Gunners seem to be the most dangerous here as well, we need to keep an eye on them."
"Super Mutants are as much of a pain in my neck here as they are in the Capital Wasteland. Behemoths also exist. Somehow they have not eaten me." Lawrence couldn't help but make the joke.
"Feral Ghouls. Not much I can report about them that's not already known, they're just...here, like everywhere else. Can be dangerous if they're in packs. Recommend regular missions to raze them with miniguns."
"And finally, the whole reason we're here. The Institute. Synths, robots made to look, think, and act like humans. Sometimes they kidnap people and replace them with Synth copies. Fun times."
Maxson looked over the various files as Lawrence spoke, nodding occasionally. "Understood, Swordsman. Remarkable work. I do have to commend you on that." He tossed the files onto one of the couches. "But there's still the matter of you pointing a weapon at a scribe and just being overtly hostile to Paladin Danse's recon team."
Maxson sighed, "I understand your reluctance to work with anyone, and the fear of them getting hurt. I didn't want to send you in anyway, but we needed intel. However, when I told you there was going to be another team in the area, that was intentional. In the event of issues such as what happened on this mission arising, you were meant to travel to the Police Station and reveal to Danse your mission. Not hold his team at gunpoint."
Lawrence nodded, having learned early on, not to speak when Maxson was angry with him.
"If we were back at the Citadel, I'd have you confined to your quarters for a month for this. As well as assigning you to assist in training the Initiates. However, we may need your skills again soon, so here's what we're going to do." Maxson's tone had changed from explicitly angry to a more quietly-angry tone, which Lawrence had rarely heard.
"You're not to leave the Prydwen without orders or an escort. You're to take on extra duties with the three Proctors. And you're to turn all your weapons over to Proctor Teagan for safekeeping. If you need them, then you can retrieve them. Understood?"
"Understood, sir." Lawrence said, simply, "shall I deliver this data to Proctor Quinlan?" He gestured at the found folders laying on the couch.
"Yes. Now go. I've let the Proctors know you're coming."