Mutatis Mutandis 14
Jason was perched idly on top of the nuclear bomb, using his combat knife to clean dirt buildup off of his weapons. The town of Megaton was slowly gathering in front of him, shaken to wakefulness by Simms. The Stahl family were standing watch behind their bar. Lucy West was leaning against the church of the Children of the Atom, watching curiously.
Jason was actually rather fond of her. He had even harbored a small crush on her for a time but, as had happened to every opportunity until Sarah his persona as the Wanderer had gotten in the way, forcing him into solitude. Lucy was like him; a fellow victim of the universe's cruel sense of humor.
The Brotherhood remnants were standing in a loose formation on the path outside Doc Church's clinic. Sarah was not a part of the formation, but had positioned herself off to the side, her arms crossed and expression impatient. She met Jason's eye and mouthed the words 'You promised'. He nodded in response.
Lucas Simms took one last look at the crowd, to make sure that everyone was in attendance, and then he whistled to get their attention.
"What's this about, Simms?" Jericho called out. "You know how early it is?"
"Still recovering from your hangover?" Jenny Stahl called back acidly. A few chuckles spread through the crowd.
"It ain't like that…" the former raider muttered to himself.
"No? Let's ask Moriarty."
"Moriarty is dead." Nova said loudly. She was still wearing the blanket Gob had put around her. Jason was pleased to see that she seemed to have attached herself to the ghoul, who was standing protectively beside her.
Silence fell over the crowd, muffling the world, and every eye turned to Jason. He opened his mouth, but Sarah Lyons beat him to the punch. "I'm going to ask you a very simple question." She said. "Do you want to live?"
Megaton stayed silent as she walked into the central clearing and stood beside Simms. She could feel Jason's gaze on the back of her neck. She pointed east. "A few days ago the Supermutants crushed the Brotherhood of steel. My father, Elder Lyons, is dead, alongside almost every single Knight. The Citadel has been completely leveled. It wasn't even a battle. We were curb-stomped." She pointed at the small division of weary soldiers. "We're all that's left." She stared at the front row of worried faces, and decided to drive the point home. "Even now they're laying siege to Rivet City, and they've taken Project Purity. You're next."
The crowd was silent for a moment, pondering the implications. If the Brotherhood had fallen so easily, what chance did Megaton have?
"So we start arming." Lucy said.
"We aren't staying here." Simms replied. Murmurs of confusion and dissent began to echo through the crowd. He raised a hand, trying to calm them. "I've discussed this at great lengths with the Wanderer, and he thinks it's best. I trust him."
"He wants us to move?" Church, the town's doctor, glared at Simms "Is he insane?"
"Irrelevant." Sarah told him in a mechanical voice. Up on the bomb, Jason frowned slightly; she'd picked up far too many of his mannerisms for his own good conscience. She continued, "If you want to live, you have to. You'll get destroyed here. The Wasteland can't afford that."
"Well I ain't goin'." Church snapped, daring Sarah to respond. "I don't wanna spend the rest of my life in some vault!"
"Just until the mutants have been dealt with." Simms assured him. "This is for our safety."
"And what happens to the town, huh?" Church fought back. "They'll destroy it!"
"Better it than us!" Lucy said. A few citizens nodded in agreement.
"We're not going!" said another voice. The crowd parted to reveal Confessor Cromwell, a tall, sickly, pale man who always appeared one missed Rad-Away dose from death. Jason frowned slightly, wondering just how much of the substance the man had wasted.
"This is our home, Simms!" Cromwell said, "We're not leaving! No matter what he says!" he pointed up at the Lone Wanderer. "This is the Church of the Children of the Atom, and we will not leave the Glow!"
His followers nodded defiantly.
Jason shifted slightly in response, his knife vanishing within the folds of his duster. The quiet movement attracted all the attention it needed to.
He slid down the bomb, his feet splashing in the irradiated pool. He walked slowly up the slope, serenaded by the ticking of his Pipboy's Geiger counter. Silence fell over the crowd as he proceeded up to the priest. Irradiated water ran down the worn leather of his combat boots, and formed a small puddle on the ground.
"Children of the Atom?" he asked carefully. Though he spoke softly, no one missed a word. "What has the Atom given you, Cromwell?" he nodded at the pool. "What gifts have the Waters of the Glow given you?"
The Priest didn't answer.
The Wanderer held his Pipboy up for all to see. "Four hundred Rads."
His Combat knife appeared in his palm, and he held out his bare hand, cutting a thin line down the meat below his thumb. Blood beaded across the opening, and eventually filled the wound, seeping out the edge and rolling down his wrist. He began to walk along the edge of the crowd, stealing their attention from Cromwell. They stepped back as if pushed by an invisible field. Gasps of horror and surprise followed his trail as the audience watched his wound slowly seal itself, leaving a pale scar which faded just as fast as the wound had.
At last, he came full circle, standing in front of Cromwell again. The Priest's mouth was hanging open in shock.
"The Atom gave me this!" Jason announced to the town at large. He met the eyes of Cromwell's congregation. "The ability to heal faster. The ability to fight harder, see farther, hear more clearly! The Glow gave me these gifts!" He waved at the Confessor. "He may be your priest. But me? I'm your goddamned Messiah! And I say you're getting in that vault!"
He pointed up at Megaton's gate, and waited in deathly silence.
Cromwell's flock kept staring, making quick mental calculations. Drawing a line in the proverbial sand between Cromwell and Jason, and sorting themselves accordingly. Few stayed true to their shepherd, turning to Jason in his stead.
Jason turned back to the rest of Megaton. "You aren't the only ones. I'm going to every settlement in the wasteland." He met Lucy's questioning gaze. "Especially Arefu and Bigtown. This is a threat to every one of you, and until I've laid it to rest and I will! You're going to have to stay somewhere they can't reach you."
Lucas Simms stepped forward, spreading his arms wide. "I want to ask you all a question: has the Wanderer ever done anything to hurt this town? Has he ever done anything to hurt this wasteland? He fought off the Enclave! He killed the slavers! He's held off the supermutants and brought clean fresh water to all of you! For four god damned years, he's worked non-stop to make all of our lives better!" He finally settled on Doc Church, who was losing allies at a considerable rate. "So when he says that this has to happen… that it'll save your lives…" he died away into silence, still gazing into Church's eyes.
"He killed Moriarty."
"Moriarty was going to keep you all here. He was going to blackmail and bribe and do everything in his power to stop me from saving you." Jason explained shortly. "So yes. I killed him."
"This town's better for it." Simms added. There was a general nod of assent, especially fervent from those who had been blackmailed by the Irish bartender.
"Pack your things, grab some weapons from the armory, and get moving." The Wanderer gave the townsfolk one last look, and then started up the hill. The Brotherhood was sucked up in his wake, followed closely by his supporters from the Church of the Atom. Others slowly began to follow them, though whether it was out of belief in the Wanderer, fear of the Supermutants, or mere peer pressure was entirely unknown. And one by one, the settlement fell in line. The exodus began.
Sarah followed Jason, Simms and Rothchild up the slope to the entrance of Vault 101. The Wanderer had a familiar look on his face, though it was one Sarah hadn't seen in quite a long time.
Jason possessed the ability to sink into the Wanderer persona at will, but rarely had Sarah ever seen him cling to it. Not since she'd first learned his name. Yet he bore that expression no; a lost young man, clinging to his only anchor. The Wanderer was his port in the storm, and shelter from the emotional turmoil that she could only guess at.
She knew why, of course; he was going to open up the vault. His ho- No! She corrected, not his home. Just the place he'd spent the first nineteen years of his life. She didn't know much about what had happened to him in the vault. It was one of his most closely guarded secrets, though he had so many of those that attempting to ferret out the truth was akin to hunting a needle in a haystack.
All Sarah knew was that things had ended badly.
He turned to her, and looked past her at the armed and grim-faced citizens of Megaton. The Brotherhood remnants were there too, holding their weapons at ease. Kodiak had a sniper rifle, and was situated on the nearest bluff, watching the east for any flash of green. For a moment Sarah wished more than anything else that Gallows was with them. The stoic sniper's presence had always made her feel at ease.
Off in the distance, they could hear the faint echoes of guttural shouting and jeers, carried on the wind along with the scent of smoke and rotting flesh. Apparently not all the bodies at the citadel had been burned yet. But at least it confirmed that Jason and Simms had chosen the correct course of action for Megaton.
A few moments later, they heard the distant pounding of enormous feet on pavement. A volcanic rumble, heralding their doom. The Mutants were on the move, and clock was ticking.
The Wanderer turned and addressed the Brotherhood. "Once the door is open, move in. Take the vault, but only kill if you have to." He slipped off his red bandana and handed it reverently to Lucas Simms. The Sheriff took it in silence and pocketed it. The two of them shared a slow, meaningful nod, the significance of which was completely lost on both Sarah and Rothchild.
"So, what's the plan?" the Scribe asked. "How are you going to open it?"
Jason's hand disappeared into his open duster and emerged gripping a 10mm pistol. He held it out to the Elder, bearing a blank expression on his face. "Shoot me."
Simms blinked in shock and stared down at the weapon. "Say what?"
Jason grunted in frustration at the man's lack of reaction, and turned to Sarah. She took it without a word and fired four bullets into the Wanderer's gut.
His face paled, body bucking with each shot until the pain and shock drove him to one knee. He crouched there, clutching his abdomen and breathing in short gasps as he fought for control. Sarah, who was holding the gun loosely at her side, found it promptly snatched away by Rothchild, who was watching her nervously.
"Don't give me that look!" she snapped, "he asked."
"You didn't have to do it four times though…" the Wanderer grimaced, rising to his feet and glaring at her. "Once would have been enough."
"Haven't you ever wanted to test your limits?" she asked, grinning evilly.
"I got shot in the head once!" he shot back hoarsely.
"So did I!" she tapped her scar.
"That was a glancing shot." He muttered, holding his stomach with tender care. Blood had spread down the front of his shirt, staining his clothing. He shouldered open the door and disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel. "Doesn't count."
Amata burst through the door to the Overseer's office, hot on the tail of Susie Mack, the Vault's head of security.
"Are you sure?" she asked again.
"It's him." the blonde said grimly, opening the security feed.
It was him. Amata felt her heart wrench as Jason stumbled towards the vault door, collapsing occasionally, but fighting back to his feet. Each time he landed on his knees, he stayed there a little longer, and his walk afterwards was a little weaker. His clothing was stained with blood.
"Please, Amata!" the man cried, his voice frail. He was using the control panel for support. "Help me!" he begged, making her heart wrench. "Amata!"
"Open the door!" she ordered.
Susie gave her a shocked look.
"Open it!"
"I've told you about him." Susie warned. "This doesn't feel right. The legends say he can't be killed! You've heard Three-Dog's broadcasts!"
"Please, Amata!"
"He's been shot. He's my friend and I'm not going to watch him bleed to death on the other side of that door!" Amata snapped, silencing her companion. On the screen, Jason had slipped to one knee. His pleading had stopped, but the bubbling, labored breaths hadn't.
Susie sighed. "Alright… but I'm bringing a few security guards with me."
Susie had managed to gather six of the Vault's guards, four of them from the days when Alphonse had been the Overseer. Amata disliked them, and had instructed Susie, to watch them closely. But there weren't enough left for her to be picky. Especially on such short notice.
The entrance room was as untouched as ever, and she could still see the footprints Jason had left in the dust during his escape and subsequent return and banishment. That day, she had broken something in him. The look in his eyes had vengefully haunted her for the past four years, a constant thorn in her side. She felt the familiar sting of guilt, and repressed it, shutting her eyes tightly until the memory of his stunned face had faded enough to let her think.
Susie was directing the vault guards around the room, prompting them behind various points of cover. During her few trips outside, the woman had managed to obtain assault rifles and a few other odds and ends, making sure that the Vault security force was ready to take on the wasteland. They had grenades now! Two per guard! Never in her life had Amata ever imagined actually seeing real-life grenades, but there they were, zipped safely away in carrying cases on the belt of each guard.
She waited patiently until they were properly situation, and then gave the order: "Open the door."
Susie gave her one last questioning look, and then obeyed, pulling the lever on the small console. All at once the room lit up, the klaxon blaring, red lights spinning. Machinery clanked and whirred, and the motor on the ceiling slid forward on its rusted rail, screwing itself into the enormous cog-shaped door.
Amata was reminded of that fateful day so many years ago when she'd watched the same thing happen in reverse. Jason had kissed her that day… back when everything had seemed so… innocent. Panic gripped her as the image on the monitor. Her childhood friend was on the other side of the door at that very moment, bleeding to death. She silently willed the door to open faster.
The door slid open and rolled aside, revealing the inky darkness of the tunnel beyond, but no Jason.
"Hello?" Susie called out.
The darkness stayed silent. Amata and Susie glanced at each other.
"Jason?" she asked uncertainly. She took a step forward.
The darkness emitted an odd puttering noise, and the six vault guards crumpled to the floor. Amata barely had time to register the blood before their attacker had moved in. She had a vague image of brown leather and blonde hair before he engaged Susie, disarming her and slamming the butt of her rifle into her face, knocking her out cold. Then he was onto Amata herself, who was reaching for her pistol before it was yanked from her grasp. Less than a second later she was pressed up against the wall of the vault, a black silenced assault rifle against her chin.
She stared into the man's cold, hard eyes. She knew those eyes, had thought about them on a daily basis ever since the last time she'd seen them. She'd seen them wide with fright, shining with tears, bright with laughter, but she'd never seen them so completely devoid of any shred of humanity.
"…Jason?" she breathed.
"Quiet." He replied mechanically, unblinking. The boy she'd read comic books with as a child, was a killer now. An animal in human skin. The intensity of his gaze was oppressive, and in complete contrast with the flatness of his tone.
Keeping her pinned against the wall, he used her 10mm pistol and fired three shots at the floor. In response, the darkness surged forward as dozens of dirty, irradiated wastelanders rushed into the vault, all armed at least as well as the security guards. Amata took one look at their grim expressions and steadfast resolve, and knew that her vault wouldn't stand a chance.
She began to struggle against his hold. "No! Jason! What have you done?"
His fist landed in her gut and she slumped to the floor, trying not to vomit. She hadn't been hit that hard since officer Mack's beating.
"Quiet." He said again.
"We would have opened it!" she whimpered, crawling backwards. "Just a little more time-"
"We're out of time." Jason told her impatiently as the wastelanders streamed past behind him. "The vault opens now."
Sarah was among the last to enter the vault. Glade and Simms were leading the charge. Sarah had elected to stay behind and protect Rothchild. Jason had told her of life in the vault. Well… he hadn't, actually. The only words he'd ever uttered on the subject were succinct, and very depressing: 'I don't want to remember any of it. Those who were my friends died. Those who weren't either stabbed me in the back or stabbed me in the front! It was dark, smelly, and miserable. Good riddance.'
Those words had set in her mind a very clear picture of life inside the vault. She didn't want to step beyond the cog-shaped opening, she wanted to fight. She wanted to march over to the D.C. ruins and pay the mutants back for destroying her life, family, and recovery. But she trusted Jason to know what he was doing.
As she marched through the tunnel, weapon in hand, the thought struck her that she was about to see the Wanderer's home, back when he was just Jason Howlett. His experiences here had shaped him, no doubt as much as his experience in the wasteland had. This was James Howlett's home as well, and she wondered how much information on Jason's history was locked inside. How many diaries? How many stories? The cancer of curiosity grew within her, forcing her forward.
The cog-shaped opening was much larger than she'd anticipated. The cold concrete blue beyond, cleaner. The vault was a cramped space, bringing her back to her childhood days on the west coast. Whereas the Brotherhood bunker had been a warm, comforting place, Vault 101 was cold and clinical. Dead, in a way, like a tool that had outlived its usefulness.
Jason was standing in the foyer with Simms, allowing the last of the invasion force by to saturate the vault. He was holding a young woman at gunpoint. She was wearing a vault suit. She looked the same age as Jason, yet also far younger. And she was scared.
Yet another memory from her distant trip to the Pitt popped into Sarah's head. Perhaps it was the way the prisoner was watching Jason. Even more telling was the way he was watching her, with a combination of guilt, love and absolute fury.
"Amata." Sarah said. He'd mistakenly called her that once, and had closed up so tightly afterwards that she'd been afraid he'd never open again.
They both looked at her in shock. Jason recovered first, his fury fading to be replaced with cold indifference.
"Who are you?" the woman asked.
Sarah ignored her, instead turning to Jason. "When are we leaving?"
To her amazement, he pulled her forward and planted a chaste kiss upon her lips.
"I'm sorry." He said.
"For what?" she started to ask, but with one hand, he was already pulling the pin on a pulse grenade. His other hand was closing the vault door. Before she could react, the grenade discharged, sending static arcs through the air, the electrical shock paralyzing everyone present for a few precious seconds.
Jason recovered first and was outside the vault before Sarah had risen to her feet.
"I'm sorry." He called out again as the door slowly rolled shut. She stumbled forward, unable to make her feet pay attention. He raised his rifle and fired eight shots, tearing the interior vault door controls to shreds. "But I can't lose Megaton."
Realizing what he was doing, she let out a bellow of disbelief and charged forwards, racing against the pre-war machinery. She reached the door just as it slid closed, locking her in.
"Jason!" she screamed impotently, white-hot rage flowing through her. She flung herself against the door again and again. "Jason! Open this fucking door! You promised me!" her fists pounded the unrelenting metal until they bled. "You promised! You Promised! You Promised!"
Jason lowered his rifle and stared at the vault door. "…Or you." He whispered he regretted what he'd done to Sarah, and to Amata. Both of them. He did, in his heart of hearts. But the mutant strategy was Slash and Burn. They weren't driving populations out; they were slaughtering them. If the wasteland was to have any chance at all, he needed as many people alive as possible. There wasn't time to organize a centralized resistance, but he could save lives.
Anything to benefit the Capital Wasteland at any cost to anyone outside it, and at any cost to himself personally. That was the Lone Wanderer's Modus Operandi, and that's what it would take to beat the Mutants. He'd given enough to Sarah, and it was long past time he started doing his duty to the Wasteland.
He knelt down and used his combat knife to open up Vault 101's control panel. Locking the humans inside to protect them would be for nothing if the mutants could simply open it up again. Jason had spent four years repairing his own gear, picking locks, and hacking –as much as he hated it- into computer systems. As the Lone Wanderer, his most overlooked trait was a certain working technical expertise. As it was, he easily found, removed, and pocketed the control board. After that was done, he headed back down the tunnel, the next stage of his plan running through his mind. Lock resources down. Unlock them when needed, and not before.
He stood at the scenic overlook and gazed east, towards the D.C. ruins. To his shock, he found that the signature silhouette of the Washington monument was missing. A part of him seemed to shut down as he worried for the people of Underworld. Perhaps the mutants would leave the Ghouls alone.
And perhaps the Ghouls would stand up for the humans when the chips were down.
Either way the fact that his enemies had destroyed the monument drove home their commitment to humanity's utter destruction in a way nothing else ever had, and Jason felt his resolve harden. He glanced back at the vault door, tempted for a moment.
Yes, there would be time enough to let her out again, but a suicidal charge against the mutants was useless. The humans needed a strategist, and an army, and Jason knew where to get both-
"Aroo?"
The noise made him turn. To his utter shock, Dogmeat was standing behind him, watching him with doleful eyes.
They stared at each other for a few seconds, and then Jason raised an imperious finger. "Run, boy!"
The dog's head tilted slightly to the left, ears perking.
"Go!" Jason ordered firmly. "Bad dog! Run!" his hand dropped uselessly to his side as the dog staunchly refused to move.
"This isn't your problem, Dogmeat. Just get out of here. Please."
The mutt padded forward and nuzzled his hand, and Jason found himself petting Dogmeat in response. He knelt and wrapped his arms around the dog's neck, resting his head against his companion's rough fur. The feeling of his own bangs craping against his exposed forehead was unfamiliar and irritating. He sighed and got back to his feet.
"Are you sure?"
The mutt's tail wagged happily.
"Then on your own head it be, Dogmeat." Jason said shortly. "We're going to Rivet City first."
The mutt barked in response, and the two of them headed to war.
If you're wondering what the hold-up was, the opening scene was a bitch. Took me weeks. I did a little experiment with Skyrim, in the meantime. It's called 'A Good Fight' Check it out if you're curious. I'm kinda forming Skyrim plans, but I want to wait until I'm back on track with Fallout first. Work is killing my muse.
This chapter took so long because of that opening sequence. The rest was written in about six days. Hopefully the wait was worth it. I tried to give a lot of payoff in this chapter to those of you who remember certain conversations from Modus Operandi, and the first chapter of this book.
Over the next few weeks, I'm going to be re-working all the scenes with Brutus. If you happen to catch any of them, let me know what you think.