Staring across at Three Dog talking into a mic, Cort decided she was in a class-A mess. Kodiak had deposited her in a chair upstairs. Sarah had directed him to carry her when it was clear walking in a straight line and not falling wasn't going to happen.

"You know kid, this would be a lot easier if you'd just put that thing down." Kodiak nodded at the Fat Man.

"Oh no, nonono. This thing is awesome." Cort hugged it and the Paladin just shook his head and hoisted her higher, tromping up the stairs. Someone else had picked up Dogmeat when they noticed he was limping, and placed him in front of Cort when she was settled.

Slumping over one armrest, she was buzzed out of her skull on Med-X and had a strong desire to throw up on her boots from the two bags of Rad Away draining into her arm. She was also unbearably itchy from several Stimpaks. Thankfully none of it was her own stuff, the Brotherhood had medical supplies, but Cort thought it still would have been nice to be able to tell everyone 'no thanks, leave me ticking, the radiation will patch it right up'. Nice until I get shot in the head for being a zombie, anyway. Or at least looked at like I'm turning into filth...or a specimen.

She peered down at Dogmeat, his own IV bag sitting on top of him. The medic had started to leave when he'd finished up with her.

"Hey wait. Treat the dog, too." He paused, looking at her like she was nuts. Cort made a face.

"Okay, that's really getting old. And saying that out loud just now didn't help me any, so let's just skip ahead to where you treat my friend."

"Do it. The mutt's the only reason we had any warning at all for that Behemoth." Sarah came in and leaned against the wall, watching the medic shake his head and get to work. "Three Dog will come over to talk to you once he's finished with his broadcast. Your father came through here for sure, one of the Knights downstairs has been posted for about a month and remembers him."

Cort lolled her head around to look at her. "Thanks, Sarah. Any idea where he went after that?"

"Unfortunately, no. Aside from being polite, he didn't say anything to anyone except Three Dog, and there's no way to guess which exit he took from this zone." The medic finished up with Dogmeat and left the room, Sarah following after a moment. "We're heading back to the Citadel now, since things here are secure for the moment. I hope you're lucky enough to see me again." Cort listened to her clatter down the stairs, and turned her attention back to Three Dog.

So this is what I'd hear if this station was something other than crappy static out there. She idly listened to the man talk about the 'Good Fight', give bad jokes and survival tips, before finally flicking onto a song and spinning around to face her.

"Look on your face says it all kid, you're wondering who the heck I am and why should you care." Spreading his arms, he got up and walked towards Cort, who tilted her head up. She was fairly certain the only look on her face was one of drugged apathy. Oh God let's just cut to the chase, or I'll have my ears talked off. Ear and a half.

"One, you're Three Dog. You run this station, which so far sounds like a better brand of propaganda than that Enclave shit. Two, I care because my father James came here, and talked to you, and you know where he's gone."

Three Dog looked at her appraisingly. "Whoo, I think you just cut me girl. You're pretty sharp for someone recently out of a Vault."

"I'm naive, not stupid." Cort leaned forward to hide her face and started pulling the IV needles from her arm and Dogmeat's leg, the bags emptied. She was getting very close to losing it again. "Now, can you please tell me where my father went?"

"Yeah, sure I can. He and I had one nice long talk; he's got his fight, I've got mine. I laid out for him what he's been missing underground, cat heard me on the radio and decided here was a good place to get a bead on things."

"Think maybe you could fill me in on the particulars then? Because I seriously have no clue what the hell is going on out here, and Dad didn't exactly leave me that great of a note." She ran her fingers over the top of her Pip-Boy while Three Dog talked about his 'Good Fight' and the Brotherhood, and all the lions and tigers and bears that were out there. Cort hadn't been able to listen to her father's recording after the first time. Best for me not to know. Sure. Trying to find out what happened and where you are has been the best thing ever. She looked back up as the DJ started winding down.

"So that's the long and short of it kid." Three Dog looked at her expectantly. "Questions?"

"...Father?" Any mention of James outside of what Three Dog had told him was conspicuously absent. Cort had a bad feeling that she knew what this meant.

"Well we got a rule here in the Good Fight. You want help, you give help!" He smiled while she silently cursed.

"That's pretty much a rule for everywhere out here." She pinched her nose and dove in. "So what is it you need me to run off and try to die doing?"

"Hey hey, don't be so down and out. You made it this far." He waved an arm around the room. "You can make it a little farther for the good of everyone out there. Some Super Mutant had fun with my broadcast relay, 'let's shoot the shiny metal thing' and shit. All I've been able to put out past DC has been static for a month."

"I see where this is going. I'm pretty sure mortal peril is still involved here."

"Well yeah, and you're right. There's only one place you can find a replacement for that dish anymore, and it's in Mutant central. Right smack on the Mall in a museum down there. There's one attached to an old lunar lander. I need you to get that dish and repair the broadcasting antenna on top of the Washington Memorial." He crossed his arms and sighed. "Look kid, I don't mean to shit on you, but this station is my baby, and way too important to the people scrabbling to exist out there. I told you, I'm the only voice there is, aside from that tinpot Eden. You help me with this, I help you, and maybe grease wheels for you with any good folks who happen to listen to me. If you're anything like your Daddy, you can get it done."

Cort rested her forehead on her hand and bit her lip. She was getting so damned tired of this nightmare game of hide and seek. Dogmeat put his head on her thigh and whined. "Alright. Just give me the map markers. I'll need to sleep here for the evening and leave a cache of my stuff behind if that's alright with you. I can't carry this bomb launcher around underground."

"Whoo whee girl, knew I could count on you. Now, let's see that little wrist wonder of yours, and we'll set you up." Cort pulled on Dogmeat's scruff, twisting the fur between her fingers. I'm set up, alright. I wonder how far down I'll get knocked this time.


Cort spent the early morning scouring over the plaza for anything useful she had missed. One nice thing about the Brotherhood, or at least the helmets, was that they didn't appear to be bothered when she started slicing the remains of the Behemoth's head open. Wanting a closer look inside the things and deciding it would be a long while -forever if she had any say in it- before she saw another one this big, she took time to dissect the brain apart.

"Whatever this is, it's bad, Dogmeat." Cort was eating an apple and looking down at the brain slices she had laid out, spitting out every other bite to feed to him. " I mean it's obviously bad, but it's bad in a 'I think someone made these' bad." Tossing him the core, she slung her knapsack on. "Let's get going before Momma breaks her foot off in a DJ's ass." Dogmeat trailed her back through the building, mouthing his treat on the way to the rear door. It opened into what had been more offices, but the side of it was now blasted away, and opened down to a road with the tunnel service entrance she was looking for.

Scrabbling down the back of the building had been easy, and there had been only one feral outside to take care of. Cort shot its head into pulp before dropping down, catching Dogmeat when he jumped.

"Oof! Heavy boy. Let's go kill some more of those nasty ferals huh? Would you like that?" She hugged him and buried her face into his fur before setting him down, sliding through the service door into the underground. There were definitely more in here, Cort could hear them breathing, and the stench was unmistakable. She crouched and assessed her options. There was a bus across one side of the tunnel, and the cars up the other made it a bottleneck. Cort smiled. Easy pickings with the rifle and the grenades. She had plenty after scavving the plaza. Looking down at Dogmeat, she motioned him to stay.

"Okay, honey, speak!" Cort leveled her rifle at the opening as the dog started to bark. She shrugged and then started barking with him as the first ferals started screeching. What the hell, live a little. "Whoof! Whoooroooooo! HAH!" Opening fire, she mowed down the first wave, and then sent a grenade flying as more appeared in the opening, Dogmeat continuing to yap his head off.

"This is working great! I've already gotten a ton with just one frag grenade and not too many bullets and hey that bus is on fire now, fuck, FUCK GET DOWN!" Cort slammed into Dogmeat and curled herself around him just as the bus went up in flaming glory, setting all the cars behind it off like dominoes. Feeling like she was burning from the inside out with each breath, a flush ran up her spine as she hugged the dog harder and screamed. She finally uncurled and sat up when his licking her face got through to her.

"I'd like to stop doing stuff like that." Cort hiccuped and pulled Dogmeat over again to cuddle, pushing her helmet off. "At least all the ferals are dead now." Brightening, she ran a shaky hand over her head, then stopped, puzzled. "What..." Her hand went back and forth harder. "...My HAIR. Oh God MY HAIR'S OFF."


"Goddamn brain-eating caterwauling bastards." Cort noted that any dislike she had for the things attacking her was getting very efficient at developing into full-scale vendettas. Sliding through into Dupont station, she reflected on her new appearance as a scorched rooster. Cort had liked her hair. Annoying to take care of, sure, but long hair meant that the tendency for it to flare up was mitigated by the weight. She had spent an agonizing six months after her 16th birthday getting crowed at by Butch and his friends when she had decided to get a haircut, and had vowed never to go back to it again. It wasn't as traumatizing as sucking gore off a dismembered limb, really, but damnit it took forever to grow in and it wouldn't stay down.

Voices floated over to her and she froze. There were Super Mutants and a Protectron in one of the offices to her left. Having no desire to get involved in whatever the hell was going on(although it sounded like kicking the robot was involved), she grabbed Dogmeat and eeled around the corner then down the tunnel, checking her Pip-Boy for more hostiles. All she wanted to do was get the stupid dish, install it, and get back to GNR and find out where to go next. She was beyond hoping that where ever it was, she would find her father there. She had spent a month making herself capable enough to get this far, and he had certainly moved on again by now if things held true to form. All she could do was keep going, and lean on her friend if she discovered the worst. Glancing at Dogmeat after thinking of him, she stopped. He had his head up in the air currents coming down the tunnel, sniffing. Cort tilted her good ear up and listened. Voices.

"Rollo, you shitbag. You drank the last fucking beer."

"Up yours, Knuckles, I'm the one who scragged that scavenger for them."

Raiders. Only raiders could have such stupid goddamn names and shining attitudes. Cort pulled her rifle free and then paused, smiling and looking back down the tunnel. She had a wonderful idea.