Mutatis Mutandis 13

Sarah's eyes snapped open, and for a moment, and felt panic set in as she took in her unfamiliar surroundings. It subsided as quickly as it had arisen. She was in Jason's bedroom. He'd lent it to her after the previous night's outburst. They hadn't slept together. Not that either of them had been in the mood, but a part of her was wondering if it would ever happen at all. She herself was fully clothed, and smelling far worse than usual. As for Jason… she wasn't even sure he had actually gotten any sleep at all. She didn't remember him ever joining her.

She sat up and shook out her frazzled hair as best she could, then put her combat boots back on and stepped out of the bedroom. Jason was one floor below, staring at a giant map of the wasteland. His map. The master copy, Sarah could only assume. He had marked every location he'd ever visited on it, and had an entire folder of notes to accompany. Things he'd done while he was at each location. Problems solved, and potential assets found. He had given a copy of the file to the Brotherhood recently, as part of their new alliance. Fat lot of good that move had done them. She hoped the Muties didn't know how to read.

"What time is it?"

"Four thirty."

"Are you planning our counter attack?" she asked, descending the stairs. Dogmeat was dozing lazily beside the table.

"Not right now." the Wanderer answered. "First We need to find a place to house the entire settlement of Megaton. If they stay, they'll be slaughtered."

Cold silence settled between them.

"You promised." She pointed out, staring at his hunched back.

"How long do you think the two of us will last?" he replied absently. "We need an army. That means locking down assets. Protect civilians so we can bring them back into the fight as we need them."

"And after we've dealt with them, then we counter-attack?"

He didn't answer. She sighed in exasperation and joined him at the table, leaning over his map. "What do you have so far?"

His finger traced his options. "The nearest viable possibility is Meresti. But Vance doesn't have the supplies for that many people. He could house Arefu, and Big Town maybe. But no more."

The questing finger drew southwest. "Ten Penny Tower? No. Any shelter which gives the Behemoths room to move is doomed."

"Are you sure the refugees could even make it that far without the Mutants catching up?" she asked, examining the distance. She couldn't help but notice the red X marks he'd drawn over the Citadel and GNR. She said, "If the muties find them in the middle of the wasteland, it would be a complete slaughter."

The Wanderer nodded. "Evergreen mills, perhaps? No. Defensible, certainly. But again, too far away. Perhaps the residents of Tenpenny Tower could be moved there. That or into Warrington Station. But they're doomed. The residents won't listen, and they have a weapons stockpile and resources we'll need. I may have to take it by force."

"How about you take the weapons from dead muties instead?" she suggested sourly.

"Already have. Stockpiled enough to arm Canterbury Commons. Arefu. Rivet City. Megaton. What do you think I've been doing with them all these years?"

"That's not what I meant!"

He frowned slightly, pouring over the map. "I wonder where the mutants have gotten all of their weapons from. They always seem to have an endless supply. From nowhere inside the wasteland. I've checked it all. I'll have to eliminate their source if this turns into a long war."

"Jason!" Sarah snapped, unable to stand his clockwork reaper anymore. On a better day, she'd have had more patience, but the last twenty-four hours had pushed her to the breaking point, and she was fresh out of patience. She thumped the table, making Dogmeat's ears perk up. "I need help. I want to counter attack!"

"Wasteland first, Sarah. Helping you instead of dealing with this problem is what cost us." he said. "If I'd spent the three weeks hunting Brutus, I could have killed him and stopped this. I knew it was coming, but I helped you instead. That's why the Citadel was lost. You really think we can afford it now? We need to preserve ourselves if we're going to have any chance for the future."

"Why do you even care about moving these people?" she snarled, a familiar anger overcoming her. "Do you honestly think anyone in this town is going to want to leave their homes? We lock this place down. fortify it. Use it as a forward command post and drive the mutants back… into… D.C.…" she died away into furious silence.

Jason was gazing at her blankly, his mouth hanging open. He wasn't listening to her anymore, she had realized. At least not past her first sentence. She watched pain cross his face followed by hurt, anger and… regret? Then he closed up and she found herself staring at the steel wall of the Lone Wanderer.

"What?" she asked impatiently. On the floor, Dogmeat growled.

The Lone Wanderer answered her in measured tones. "Only viable option under the circumstances. We're going to open Vault 101."

Something cold and metallic pressed gently against Rothchild's nose. He murmured quietly, surfacing from the depths of sleep. It pressed a little harder, and his eyes snapped open to reveal a bloodstained duster, the unshaven face of the Lone Wanderer wearing it, and most importantly the tip of his silenced assault rifle. Out of a combination of shock and fear, he froze like a stunned deer.

"Get up." The Wanderer said quietly, lowering his weapon.

Rothchild glanced around the room, and for a moment he wondered if he weren't still asleep, and this was actually some sort of nightmare. The other knights were all still fast asleep.

"Get up quietly." The Wanderer repeated.

Rothchild shifted across the uneven mattress and rose to his feet. "What's this about?"

"We're emptying Megaton. I'm putting them in Vault 101."

Rothchild frowned, but quickly overcame his surprise. He moved a little closer to avoid waking the other brotherhood members. "Okay," he whispered. "Assuming you can-"

"I can."

"Alright… how do you intend to get the population to leave?"

"I've already spoken to Simms."

"What do you need from me?"

"Two things. Firstly, If people start questioning how bad things are, you remind them."

Rothchild nodded. The Brotherhood remnant's firsthand experience would certainly be enough to sway anyone sitting on the fence. "And the second thing?"

The Wanderer's steel wall faded for a moment, and Rothchild found himself recognizing James Howlett in the face of his son. Jason looked …burdened, and Rothchild knew immediately that the second point was a personal request.

The boy said, "Whatever happens, take good care of Sarah."

As Jason crept through the pre-dawn town, he felt a certain satisfaction, and considered his good relationship with Lucas Simms. Simms was probably the closest human to him, aside from Sarah. During the first weeks, Simms had given more help to Jason than any other waster. He'd been the only one to really see Jason Howlett before the Wanderer had overtaken them both. After Burke had been dealt with the first time, he'd given Jason a home, and a friend when both were desperately needed. For four years, the Lone Wanderer with all the resources at his disposal, had been aching for a chance to pay the Sheriff back.

And now he finally had the opportunity to save that which Simms valued most: his city. Megaton. Not the physical buildings, perhaps, but the people certainly.

Convincing Simms that they had to leave Megaton was as simple as waking him up and telling him. the Sheriff had not asked questions. He had not scoffed, or fought, or done any of the things Jason was fully expecting out of the other residents. He had merely nodded grimly, woken up his son, and gotten dressed. Jason could see his duster-clad form through a gap in the railing. Simms was moving along the bottom of the crater, going from building to building, slowly waking the slumbering town.

Jason had the difficult assignment, and as he approached the back door of Moriarty's saloon, he pondered exactly how he was to accomplish it.

The door was incredibly easy to pick. Jason had often wondered why the obnoxious barkeep insisted on keeping it locked. Colin was not in his room, which probably meant he was upstairs, spending a little 'quality time' with Nova. The subtly noises filtering through the thin floor certainly supported the assumption, and Jason smiled, unslinging his railway rifle. The thing wasn't nearly as accurate, or practical as his Infiltrator, but it certainly made a strong first impression during negotiations.

Moriarty's terminal was off. The man possessed what was probably the only working computer in the city. He had files on nearly every Megaton resident, including Jason himself. Though the last the Wanderer had checked, the entry was filled with enough question marks and frustrated guesses to make Jason laugh. He did have Jason's full name, though, which was surprising, but not particularly worrying.

He closed the terminal and moved silently behind the bar. Only Gob was present, half asleep. The Ghoul's head was on the table, a half-full glass loose in his grip. He probably always drank like that whenever Colin disappeared upstairs with Nova. The Ghoul's hopeless infatuation with the town's resident whore was legendary, and in his heart of hearts, Jason felt a fair amount of sympathy. He had once considered ending Moriarty to give Gob a chance, but had reminded himself that an act like that was interfering in the most useless fashion. It made no scientific or social progress for the wasteland as a whole, and would destabilize Megaton with unpredictable results.

He reached out and tapped Gob on the shoulder. The Ghoul murmured unintelligibly and shook him off.

"Gob. Get up."

"Gerroffame."

"Gob!" Jason shook him by both shoulders, forcing him awake. The ghoul spun around angrily and threw a wild punch. God suddenly found himself pressed up against the wall of the bar, with a 10mm pistol against his chin. Jason held the ghoul there for a moment, then let go.

Shocked into sobriety, Gob straightened out his shirt and stood up as well as his state would allow. He rubbed the new bruise on his forehead. "Damn, smoothskin, you need to loosen up a little."

Jason blinked and stared down at his own hands. "No." he said slowly. "I used to be faster."

Upstairs, Nova began to moan. The ghoul grimaced. "The hell are you doing here?" he said in his gravelly voice.

"I'm here to sort out Moriarty. You should take a walk."

Upstairs, the whore moaned again. Gob glanced up, slurring slightly as he made a final request. "Save her at least. Please."

Jason nodded, and the Ghoul scampered away. The Wanderer turned away from the empty bar and made his way up the stairs, listening at each door until he found Moriarty's. He paused and readied his railway rifle, coiling himself up. Then he kicked out, the sole of his boot striking the door just beside the handle. The rusted metal gave way and it swung open, exposing Moriarty's bare bottom, and Nova's spread legs.

Both of the bed's occupants leapt for opposite the corners of the room. As he rolled away, swearing at the top of his lungs, the barkeep pulled a pistol out from under his pillow. A well-aimed railroad spike took it out of his hands before he could bring it to bear. The red-hot spike caromed off the back wall and landed in the mattress, burying itself halfway, and filling the room with the smell of scorched cloth. The pistol bounced off a bedpost and landed near Jason's foot. Moriarty scrambled for it, diving towards Jason, who stepped on his stretched-out hand, and planted the tip of his horrific weapon against the man's neck. All three of them froze, neither the whore, nor the barkeep willing to breath.

Jason addressed Nova first. "Get out."

The redhead obeyed wordlessly, not even bothering to collect her clothes along the way. The patter of her feet, and her irritating whimpers echoed along the upper bannister and disappeared. Jason turned to Colin Moriarty, who was glaring up at him.

"Yer an asshole, Wanderer! Have yeh no respect fer a man's privacy?"

The room echoed as another rail spike was launched into the floor beside his head. Moriarty covered his ears, wincing. Jason stood stock still, waiting for the last echoes to die away.

"None." He replied.

"I shoulda killed yeh after yeh crawled outta tha' vault. I was enjoyin' meself!"

Jason's mouth twitched into a slight frown, and he pressed a little harder, grinding the bartender's hand into the floor. "Do even you know what's happening to the wasteland?"

"Yeah. The muties are causin' a little bit'o trouble. But when are they not?"

"They wiped out the Brotherhood." Jason said. "Even you had to notice all the new guests staying in the commons."

"I noticed that they didn't spend enough caps." Moriarty told him, trying desperately to pry his own hand loose. He gave up, panting slightly, and glared up at Jason. "Was there something yeh wanted, or did yeh just break in here to tell me the Brotherhood's gone?"

Jason released the man and he got to his feet. Moriarty stepped backwards and for the sake of modesty, collected a sheet from the bed. After he was done tying it around his waist, he straightened up and set his pale goatee in order.

"Everyone is going to leave Megaton in the morning." Jason said. "Simms is getting everyone out of bed as we speak. You're going to support him. No questions asked."

Moriarty scoffed. "Yeah? And where are we all goin'?"

"Vault 101."

The barkeep burst out laughing. Jason kept his face completely blank. It was a well-practiced move, and he watched Moriarty go through the familiar motions: the faltering laughter, the hesitation. The confusion, and eventual realization.

"You're serious, aren't you, kid?"

Jason nodded, and the man drew himself up, acting as imposing as he possibly could in the stained bedsheet. "Well you're crazy if you think I'm goin' anywhere near that vault."

"So stay here alone, then. Just so long as you don't get in our way."

"Don't think fer a second I'd just let everyone walk outta here!" the barkeep challenged. "I know everyone's dirty little secrets and they're all payin' me ta keep quiet. This town won't do a thing unless I say so. Simms thinks he runs it. He's wrong. I even know about you." He took a step forward. "Jason Howlett. 23 years old. Yeh've got a bit of a god complex. Call yerself the Lone Wanderer. I've heard Three-Dog's stories, and it's all smoke and mirrors. Yeh've been around a little, but yer just a kid with daddy issues and some fancy pre-war tech." He took another few steps forward. "Yeh see, the only real currency is information, and you're poor as dirt. What do you know, Kiddo?"

"You're Irish, for starters." Jason responded immediately, recalling a terminal entry in Ten Penny Tower. "Brought across the ocean as a child. Your father, had set up trade routes running between the capital wasteland and other parts of the coast using the Duchess Gambit."

He watched Moriarty blanche. The Duchess Gambit had been a lucky guess. But clearly an effective one. He continued, his tone growing more disdainful by the second. "Your dad died in 2241. You had inherited both the wealth, and the bar, but haven't used it to benefit anyone but yourself."

"And that's not all I know." He added firmly. "I know that today, tomorrow, or maybe the day after, the mutant horde is going to come pouring out of the D.C. ruins. When they get here, they're going to slaughter everyone left in this town. I'm trying to save them. So is Simms."

"I say this town moves when I decide. And no one's going anywhere while there's caps to be made."

"That's your final answer?" Jason hafted his railway rifle.

Colin hesitated, noting the movement. "Yeh wouldn't dare kill me. Without me, this town-"

The Lone Wanderer walked slowly down the stairs onto the bar's main floor. Nova was sitting in a chair, wrapped in a thick blanket. She was staring ashen faced at a small trickle of blood pouring through a hole in the ceiling. The hole itself had been produced by one of Jason's railroad spikes.

Gob was standing beside her, protectively. The ghoul had a baseball bat in his hands. Jason eyed it while loading a fresh set of spikes into his weapon. Then he met the ghoul's eye and said, "You two should be outside."

"You killed Moriarty." Gob said, shocked.

Jason's gaze slid momentarily to the trickle of red. The patter of each droplet hitting the floor was thunderous. "Very observant."

"Why?"

"Saving lives. If it survives, the bar is yours, Gob." He glanced at Nova and headed for the door. "Put some clothes on. You'll catch a cold."

So thank you to everyone who responded. I was amazed and humbled by the sheer number of suggestions and support shown in dealing with the Brutus issue. I read them all, and they generally seem to fall into two camps.

The first is to have some great philosophical discussion cause him to either repent or go even crazier.

The second is to simplify him. Rewrite him into a background menace. Give him just enough face time to remind the reader that he's there, but keep him quiet and menacing. No background at all. Or perhaps vague hints at most.

To be honest, I prefer the latter. I wanted him to be the epitome of the vault 87 Supermutant menace, as was suggested by Uncle Leo in chapter 20 of Modus Operandi. This is what I was aiming for, and after the next chapter, I'm going to go back over all of his scenes, and turn him into this. I'm hoping it'll drastically improve the story and get it back up to the high standards I try to set for myself, and this series.

So thank you again.

Next chapter is the re-opening of Vault 101.