The group had assembled around the large, circular table in the dining room of Smith…Yudhajit's house in New Reno. The room was large enough to accommodate the group of weary travelers as well as Smith's family. At the other end of the table, talking to Gale, Miria sat; and directly across from John was Smith. His children had not yet arrived, but Miria had said they would be there as they were almost every night for dinner. Smith had filled John in on his own story, his own travels and the legend that had begun to spring up around him in his youth.
"So how did you and Miria meet, then?" John asked, drawing the attention of the older woman when she heard her name. Miria looked down the table at Smith, a twinkle in her eye as she smiled at the memory. Smith laughed lightly as he remembered.
"Oh, that's a good story. Miria is from a town named Modoc. Anyway, I swung through there when I was traveling, and met her. Back then, she was…" he trailed off, looking for a polite way to say what his wife had been like.
"I wasn't particularly selective about who I got in bed with," Miria finished, laughing. Smith smiled at her before continuing.
"One thing led to another, and we ended up in bed. Before I could leave, her dad came busting in the room. I couldn't talk my way out of what we had been doing or come up with an excuse. Next thing I knew, she and I were hitched," Smith explained. Bonzo laughed, having heard the story before; while Gale looked horrified at the thought. John turned to look at Bonzo before speaking.
"And you think my love life is fucked up?" he asked, drawing a round of laughter from the table. Miria continued the story as the laughter died down.
"Those first years were rough. I wouldn't even say we particularly liked each other as people, outside of each other's bodies," she explained. John laughed, understanding how that one went. "But we stuck together. We pushed through things, came to understand each other as people. I had our first son, Davin, when we were living in Arroyo. My husband was the village elder then, and he was only 24. We stayed there for a couple years, but eventually the restlessness hit and we moved on, to New Reno," Miria continued.
"Why would you raise a family in this town?" John asked, baffled. He wouldn't raise his children in New Reno if it was the only town left on Earth, from what he had seen.
"I could stay in touch with the world from here," Smith began. "I had contacts here, I had a reputation here; so it was easy enough for me to be in a position to protect my family and give them a good life. And New Reno is way less isolated than Arroyo is. I could still hear what was going on out in the Wasteland, keep an eye on things. I had explained everything to Miria, how I knew I wasn't the first of my kind; and I always hoped that somewhere, someone else like me would appear. It took long enough, but eventually the traders started talking about some kid from a Vault out in the D.C. ruins," he continued, smiling at John as he did.
"The first of your kind?" John asked, still slightly confused by Smith's take on what they were.
"The first was my grandfather, a man named Albert Cole. He was from a Vault; Vault 13. I'll let you read his memoirs sometime. I think you'll find you two have a lot in common," Smith explained. John's eyebrows went up at that.
"What makes you say that?" he asked. Smith just smiled enigmatically in return.
"You'll see when you read it," he replied.
"Did you have some sort of plan to try and find me?" John asked, pressing forward with his line of questioning. Smith looked over at Miria, who was smiling at them.
"Yes. Remember, John; I've had 40 years to think about things, to think about what we are. I could only come to the conclusion that somehow, we've become something else, something connected to humanity while not entirely men ourselves. We'd hardly be the first. Look at history-Alexander the Great conquered the known world by the time he was 33. Genghis Khan brought everything he crossed under his control. There have always been exceptional people that appear from time to time," Smith replied. "When I knew there was another person like me out there, I took it upon myself to try and find them. I thought that maybe, even though I'm old now, I could serve as a sort of mentor. Try to teach what I've learned through all my years and travels; give someone still in their prime the advantages that come with what I've learned." John nodded at his answer.
"I know the feeling. About being different. I see it in the faces of almost everyone I talk to when they look at me; like they're looking at some sort of deity. It's a strange feeling to hear that I'm not alone, to meet someone who doesn't think I'm some sort of…supernatural creature." Smith nodded back in understanding.
"It is strange. You'll feel even less alone when you read my grandfather's memoirs. Before we go further, though, I have to ask you something: why did you come west?" John pondered for a second.
"To learn. Fawkes told me about the NCR and the Legion fighting over the Mojave. I did the math; I read the books Fawkes brought back. The NCR is expanding, fast. They have a larger population, they have a standing army; they have a society, a real one that's moving forward and rebuilding. The Brotherhood, in all the time I worked with them, never told me about the NCR. So I decided that, besides coming west to get my knee fixed," he said, looking down to his damaged joint as he did, "I wanted to see how it happened. I wanted to know why society could rebuild in the west and not back in the Capital Wasteland. Why do my people scrape out a living, if that, while the NCR provides its citizens with the resources they need to survive?"
"So you came west to learn how to build a state?" Smith asked, smiling. John shrugged his shoulders ambivalently before replying.
"I guess so, yeah. I want more for my people than basic subsistence. I want the chance to bring a family into this world and have it be a better place than what I found," he said. Miria and Smith both replied with knowing nods and smiles.
"That's what every parent wants, John," Miria said. Smith looked at his wife, a look of affection clear on his face, before he turned back to John.
"You and I feel the same way, John. Tell me you haven't felt that feeling, when you look around at the world. Like a burning inside of you, something telling you that it doesn't have to be like this," Smith said.
"Yeah. I know that feeling," John admitted. "I guess I just kind of chose to ignore it, after the war and my injuries. After everything that happened during those years I thought I deserved to just be left alone," he continued.
"I will help you with this mission of yours, John. But understand going into it that there is no turning back. I made the mistake of walking away from Arroyo after it had rebuilt and stabilized. If you do this, you can never lose focus," Smith replied. John thought about it for a second. He knew he operated best when he had a clearly defined goal in front of him. That was the problem he had encountered after peace descended on the Capital Wasteland-he had no more goal, no more enemies to fight. It had led him to feeling rudderless.
"I can do that, I think. Especially if I have help," he said, smiling across the table at Smith. A moment's silence passed before Smith spoke again.
"Did you ever have one enemy that came to define you, John? One, above all others, that pushed you to the limits?" John paused for a moment to think before answering.
"No, not really. It was more situations than any one thing or person. What about you?" Smith smiled grimly before replying.
"Yeah. There was one…"
Yudhajit entered the huge chamber, the room lit only by dim lighting. Behind him he could hear Sergeant Granite's squad of Enclave soldiers moving into position, attempting to find what little cover they could in the mostly empty room. Next to him stood John Cassidy; and at the other end of the room, visible through the darkness, stood a massive figure. Yudhajit felt a twist in his stomach. He had seen that figure before; once in person and twice in security footage. He had torn a Brotherhood of Steel soldier in half, torn the head off of a Deathclaw without a fight. Yudhajit put his hand on Cassidy's chest, stopping the man in his tracks. He knew he had to go forward alone. He made his way across the floor; paying no attention to the intricately detailed carving under his feet. The…thing, the abomination, turned to face him as he approached; and spoke in a voice that was as hypnotizing as it was terrifying.
"You've gotten a lot farther than you should have; but then you haven't met Frank Horrigan, either. Your ride's over, mutie. Time to die." Yudhajit's mind raced as the power armored monstrosity spoke. Stall for time, he thought to himself, slowly making his way toward a computer terminal that he saw on the opposite side of the room. He held a faint glimmer of hope that the terminal would let him activate the defense turrets in the room.
"Huh? Frank who?" he responded, hoping to keep Horrigan talking.
"Me, Frank Horrigan, that's who. United States Secret Service. You aren't going anywhere from here." Yudhajit continued to slowly inch his way toward the computer terminal as he thought of a response; the sound of Horrigan's voice dulling his wit. He knew, instinctively, that there was no way to negotiate or barter some sort of deal, the way he had with Granite's men. Even they, Enclave the same as Horrigan, had said that the being Yudhajit now looked at was a freak. He was distantly aware, at the same time, that somewhere below levels his friend Marcus was evacuating the Vault 13 dwellers and his fellow tribesmen from Arroyo. And in less than nine minutes the Oil Rig's reactor would melt down, destroying the entire facility. Fuck it, he thought. Time to end this.
"I'm not going anywhere 'till I stomp your ugly mug out of existence," he replied. Horrigan responded only by bringing up the massive weapon he had at his side. From behind him, the Enclave troopers opened up on Horrigan; Yudhajit dashing to the computer console as they did. Cassidy added his own fire to the mix, their rounds futilely slamming off Horrigan's power armor. He had seen Horrigan laugh off plasma rifle fire in the security footage from the Brotherhood of Steel bunker; he knew the beast was capable of taking insane amounts of damage. Yudhajit reached the computer terminal and frantically began scrolling through his options, the death scream of one of the Enclave troopers ringing out as Horrigan's weapon cut him down. He found the option he was looking for on the terminal and selected it, the turrets coming to life and spewing fire at Horrigan as Yudhajit brought up his own weapon; a CZ57 Avenger minigun and opened fire on Horrigan. The huge being stumbled back, overwhelmed by the sheer volume of heavy weapons fire coming his way; fracturing his armor at last and allowing rounds to impact the heavily muscled, modified body underneath. A last burst from Yudhajit's minigun sawed Horrigan in half, the turrets falling silent as he collapsed, his legs separated from his torso. Yudhajit moved forward slowly, his minigun still held at the ready, horror forming in his mind as Horrigan dragged his torso forward with his arms, looking up at Yudhajit all the while.
"You…you haven't won here," the thing said, coughing up blood as it did. "You and your mutie-bastard friends are gonna join me in a big ol' mushroom cloud sendoff. I just triggered the self-destruct," it continued, laughing as it spoke before the laughter became agonized coughing. "The work will go on. You didn't do nothing here, 'cept seal your own death warrants. Duty…honor…courage…Semper Fi," it said with its dying breath, before finally breathing its last breath and collapsing to the floor in front of Yudhajit.
There was a moment of silence as Smith finished telling the story. Even Fawkes betrayed some surprise at hearing it.
"Jesus. What was this Horrigan guy, anyway?" John asked, not able to imagine an enemy as deadly as the one Smith had just described.
"He had been an Enclave soldier, part of President Richardson's protective detail. He got exposed to the FEV and they brought him back to experiment on him, turned him into their ultimate weapon. 12 feet tall, in a custom suit of power armor that made him even stronger than he already was. I suppose technically he was a super mutant, but he didn't see himself as one."
"You managed to get Enclave soldiers to help you take him down?" John asked, incredulous at that part of the story. Smith nodded back at him.
"I did. Something I've learned, over time, is that most people just want to survive. They'll go along to get along. The Enclave might have some seriously fucked up goals, and there are true believers, like Horrigan; but most of them are just ordinary people who've been brought up to believe that the Enclave is right. If you can get through to them, like I did, they'll listen to reason," he replied. "Speaking of which, why don't you come upstairs with me while we wait for the kids to show up? I have some things to show you."
Amata zipped up her jumpsuit; a special variant designed for expectant mothers that Elliot had given to her at the end of her first trimester, as she began to become visibly pregnant. The suit didn't hug her form to the extent that a standard Vault suit did, but it was far more comfortable as her body changed with the pregnancy. The remainder of the first trimester had gone normally, and eventually the morning sickness and the mood swings had passed and she had begun to feel like herself again. A much more ungainly, awkward version of herself that ate more than she ever had in her life. The changes in her body had only been exceeded by the changes taking hold of the Capital Wasteland in the passing weeks. Susie had come back from Megaton with a message from a woman named Reilly; the one that had assaulted Three-Dog in his studio. The mercenary captain was organizing something of a resistance, attempting to make sure clean water kept flowing to the outlying settlements of the Capital Wasteland that the Brotherhood of Steel had stopped protecting. The whole situation struck Amata as strange; the fault lines immediately obvious as she analyzed the situation. On one side, it was people that were loyal to her JJ; people that he had either saved or protected or who otherwise had bought into the legend that Three-Dog had built around the Wanderer, before everything had fallen apart between him and the Brotherhood. The other side of the picture was those loyal to the Brotherhood and Elder Lyons; Rivet City and the interior settlements that had sprung up in the DC ruins after peace had descended and it had become a safe place to be. These were the people that thought that Elder Lyons and his knights offered a greater chance of stability for the future; that their greater numbers alone, coupled with their technological abilities, made them the best long-term bet for the Wasteland being rebuilt. Amata was forced to concede that the areas under Brotherhood control, where their patrols were frequent, were remarkably peaceful. The Brotherhood dispensed a harsh but fair justice; and they had helped settle people in the DC ruins now that the situation there had stabilized.
The entire situation had put Amata into an awkward position. She was the Overseer of Vault 101, and her first responsibility was always to her people. And yet the whole reason she and her friends had revolted against her father was to take part in the affairs of the outside world. When Susie had relayed Reilly's message to Amata, she immediately recognized the difficult position it would put her in. Taking this active a role in the affairs of the Wasteland, especially when it involved the Brotherhood, would immediately make Vault 101 a subject of interest; and despite their semi-engagement with the world she preferred that the Vault keep a low profile. The other side of her, though; the less rational side that went off instinct and feelings, knew she had to take JJ's side. She was carrying his child; he was the only person that she had ever loved outside of her family. Amata knew that if anyone was to carry on his legacy and attempt to preserve what he had done for the Wasteland, it had to be her. And so there she found herself; turning to leave her quarters and make her way to the Vault entrance, where Susie would be waiting for her. Amata had decided that for a meeting of the importance of the one that would be held today, she would attend in person. She had only briefly set foot outside the Vault since she had learned of her pregnancy, not willing to do anything to risk the life of her child, but today had to be an exception. More than just her own desires were on the line now; and in the two months since Reilly had talked to Susie and Lucas Simms, Amata had become one of the most influential figures in the southern wastes. Fully prepared for the day, Amata made her way through the halls of the Vault to the entrance chamber, finding Susie and Officer Gomez waiting for her.
"Morning, Overseer," Gomez said, his voice as polite as ever. He was the most even-tempered of the Vault's guards; he had taken JJ under his wing when he was a boy and taught him to defend himself from the Vault bullies. Amata smiled back at him.
"Morning Gomez, Susie. Has our escort arrived yet?" she replied. Susie had told Amata that she would have a larger guard to travel to Megaton, where the meeting was being held; a group of mercenaries coming up from the south agreeing to meet the Vault 101 delegation and walk them to Megaton. Amata had felt apprehensive at working with strangers, but Susie had assured her that the group that would be escorting them was one of the most dependable mercenary companies in the Wasteland, known for getting the job done.
"They just arrived," Susie replied. "Just saw them on the CCTV. They're nothing if not punctual," she chirped, her excitement at the day's happenings obvious. Amata nodded her approval.
"Very well. Open the Vault," she commanded, Gomez immediately responding by walking to the Vault control panel and sliding the lever to open the door. The klaxon began blaring; a yellow light flashing as the clamp latched onto the door and pulled it into the Vault, before sliding it aside. Outside the door stood a group of five men; clad in black combat armor with a white claw emblazoned on the chest. They stood a bit straighter as Amata and her companions approached; with the Overseer not failing to notice the surprised glances several of the men shot at her abdomen. Apparently Susie had kept her secret exceedingly well.
"Good morning," Amata began, extending her hand to the man who had stepped forward. "I'm Amata Almodovar, Overseer of Vault 101." The man clasped it, nodding to her in reply.
"Jackson Clancy, Talon Company. Heard a lot about you, Overseer," he said, releasing her hand. She raised an eyebrow at his response.
"All good, I hope?" she asked. He chuckled.
"Most of it was from the Lone Wanderer. And it was all good. You ready to head to Megaton?" he replied. She nodded.
"Let's hit the road," she replied, setting off towards the exit of the cave that housed 101.
Emily had just made it back to her room from a class she taught on Pre-War American Government when Julie Moore and Dan Parker slowly entered the room. One look at Julie's face was enough to tell Emily that something was wrong. Her face betrayed that she was distraught; and Emily immediately began connecting the dots in her mind. Cassandra. Something must have happened to her cousin in the Mojave…but then why is Dan here?
"What's up?" Emily asked, turning in her chair to look at her friends. Julie started to open her mouth before closing it again, at a loss for words. Finally, she spoke.
"We got…we got bad news from the Mojave today, Em," she replied. Emily's heart sank at that, her suspicion being confirmed. Legion must have gotten Cassandra, somehow. Poor lady. Poor Julie.
"Is it Cassandra? I'm so sorry, Julie," she replied, rising from her chair and walking toward her friend. Julie shook her head violently, denying Emily's response.
"No. It's not Cassandra. It's…" she began, trailing off. Julie was always an empathetic person; and if it wasn't Cassandra, Emily realized, it had to be for her. A sickening feeling began to form in her stomach as Dan Parker spoke.
"We got a telegram today, sent up from the Mojave Express office in the Hub. It's…there's no way to say this easily, Em," he began. Emily began to tense, as if bracing herself for a blow.
"Say what, Dan?"
"It's Achilles, Emily. He was attacked while making a delivery to New Vegas. Robbed outside of Goodsprings," he replied. Emily had stopped breathing, waiting for Dan to tell her. She realized he hadn't said anything about Achilles' condition.
"Where is he? How badly hurt is he?" she demanded, needing to hear the answer for herself. Dan sighed heavily, his heart breaking at having to tell his understudy the bad news.
"The assailants shot him, Emily. He's gone. I'm…I'm so sorry," he began, hastily rushing forward as Emily's knees buckled slightly when he told her. She leaned forward into his arms, resting on his shoulder while she absorbed the news. Gone. He's gone. Somebody robbed him and murdered him for no good reason, she thought, anger and denial and a heartbreak that was bottomless welling up inside of her. And with no better way to express herself, Emily did something she hadn't done in years. She cried; leaning her head into Dan's shoulder as Julie embraced her from the other side, muffled sobs coming out as her world crashed down around her.
Sarah sat in the Great Hall, every company commander in the chapter present to listen to the briefing her father was preparing to give. Sarah knew it had to be about the raider attacks occurring in the western ruins and the incident with Reilly's Rangers, but beyond that her father had not told her what would be happening. The assembly rose to their feet as the Elder entered the room, Scribe Rothchild close behind him.
"Please, my brothers, be seated," the Elder said, extending his arms in the traditional greeting he gave to groups. The room was filled momentarily with the racket of chairs sliding out and then being pulled back in before an expectant silence fell, all eyes on the Elder.
"The time has come for us to begin to set the Wasteland right. As I am sure you have all heard, there are reports of raiders attacking the Western ruins, in the area that used to be patrolled by the mercenary Reilly and her company. Our alliance had been one born out of necessity, and with our chapter once again at full strength, it is no longer needed. We now have the manpower and the resources to patrol the entirety of the D.C. ruins; and I intend to do just that. We will begin rebuilding this city, guiding its recovery until the people here can govern themselves. But first, we must win the support of the population and end the ridiculous cult of personality that surrounds John Thompson. To that end, Scribe Rothchild will prepare you on how to conduct these patrols," the Elder said, before looking to Rothchild, who stepped forward.
"I know that dealing with ordinary Wastelanders; those with no education, no military training, and no goals outside surviving the day, can be difficult. But when you take your knights and paladins on patrol, you must treat these people with respect. Respect that the areas you patrol are their homes, respect them as people; even if you do not on a personal level. In the past our attitude towards outsiders has cost us support that could have been valuable. Your patrols will be divided into two categories: presence and combat. Combat patrols are exactly what you all know how to do: go out, find the enemy, kill the enemy. The presence patrols will be where your knights will face greater difficulty. Those will call for social interactions with local leaders; attempting to convince the residents of the Wasteland that joining with us is the best way forward. The more the people feel comfortable with us, the more apt they are to join with us and give us intelligence that could be valuable. Each presence patrol will also be carrying shipments of Aqua Pura, another gesture of goodwill that you're going to need to win these people over," Rothchild explained, the room hanging on to his every word. Sarah could see looks of discontent on the faces of some of her peers. While the combat patrols were expected, just a part of the job; these presence patrols, ones that required them to interact with the locals, would be difficult.
"We'll be making full use of our available resources. Vertibirds will insert the patrols directly into their areas of operations. The Vertibirds will also be able to airlift a far greater amount of water to these people, meaning a much reduced reliance on water caravans. Sentinel Lyons," the Elder said, gesturing at his daughter as he did, "will be the ground commander when you are in the ruins. The Lyons' Pride will set up a forward operating base in the western ruins for our Vertibirds to land at and for your patrols to return to for resupply and rest. The Pride will also be in reserve as a quick-reaction force, should you need it. Are there any questions?" Owyn finished, looking at the faces of his assembled commanders. A hand went up from the back of the room, from Star-Paladin Cross.
"When do we begin, Elder?" she asked. A smile crossed the face of Elder Lyons as he looked at his old friend. It was good to know that after all the years, they were still with him. And finally, his dream of putting the Wasteland right was coming to fruition.
"Beginning of next week. Enough time for each of you to brief the men under your command and run through the necessary drills to prepare. Anything else?" There were no hands raised; a feeling of increasing excitement filling the room. There had been a palpable sense of stagnation in the Brotherhood in the time since the war had ended; the feeling of having a new mission was reinvigorating to those assembled to hear the Elder speak.
"Very well," Elder Lyons said. "You are all dismissed. Brief the knights under your command. And may Steel be with you all."
"And with you," the assembly replied, Sarah's voice loudest of all.
John looked at Smith's storage room, eyes wide in shock. He had a room similar to this at his house in Megaton, one he had built to house his armor and various weapons, as well as other items he didn't want readily available or visible to visitors. Smith's, however, was a magnitude greater than his. It was much larger, and the variety of weapons and armor that the man had collected over the years was staggering. The centerpiece of the room stood at the opposite end, resting on a support structure. Jet black with shade of gray mixed in, a helmet with eyes that were distinctly insectoid. It was immediately obvious as Enclave armor, but of a make John had never seen before. Throughout the rest of the room lay other sets of armor; John recognizing a set of T-51b armor with Brotherhood markings on it, and next to it lay the minigun Smith had spoken of when relaying the story of his final confrontation with Frank Horrigan.
"This is…impressive," he said, an appreciative tone in his voice. Smith chuckled from where he stood, behind John.
"Thanks. I've had a lot of time to collect it all," he replied. John's eyes still rested on the Enclave armor, reminding him of his own set of Hellfire armor that was back in Megaton.
"I've never seen Enclave armor like that," John began. "What kind is it?"
"That's Advanced Power Armor, Mark II. It was an experimental prototype that was being developed by the Enclave out on their Oil Rig, before it was destroyed. I picked it up when I was there and brought it back with me. It was too good to pass up," Smith explained. John grunted in acknowledgement, appreciating Smith's pragmatism.
"What makes it so advanced?" he asked in reply to Smith's explanation.
"It's a lot lighter than normal power armor. It's made almost entirely out of ceramics and advanced composites, kinds that I can't even describe. There's no metal in it, like in the T-51b armor," Smith said. John contemplated that, his thoughts turning back to something he had long thought-that somewhere, the Enclave had to have infrastructure, factories and research facilities, to be producing advanced tech like the armor or Vertibirds. Not for the first time, it occurred to him that if he and his companions could find it, they could use it to do wonders for the Wasteland.
"Where'd you get the Brotherhood armor?" John asked, deciding to take advantage of Smith's sudden openness. The Chosen One smiled as he looked at John.
"I was a member, too. An honorary one, of course. Allfather forbid that an outsider, a tribal one, become an actual member of the Brotherhood. But they inducted me after I stole the blueprints for the Vertibird from the Enclave and delivered it to them. Got the power armor from them," Smith explained.
"So they got you to be their lackey, too?" John asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. Smith crossed his arms over his chest and, leaning against the doorframe, shrugged.
"I don't know that I'd say lackey. When I first met the Brotherhood I thought they had to be the way forward. Their knightly orders, their education, their fighting ability…it was everything I was taught to value and respect when I was growing up. And for a long time they made good allies. But eventually I reached a point where I realized there was nothing more they could offer me. And the way they just expected my loyalty, instead of doing anything to earn it, grated on me. Still, it didn't end as badly as it sounds like your time with them did," he replied. John grimaced at the thought.
Yeah. Mine was…pretty bad," he replied. Smith raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him, as if urging him forward. "It was part personal and part professional. The attitude the Brotherhood treated me with, after everything I had done…I went into Project Purity to activate the thing, thinking I would die. I destroyed the Enclave's land crawler. And after all that they still treated me like I wasn't equal to them. They were more than happy to use my skills, to turn me and my companions loose on whatever needed to be destroyed, though. And I guess in the end I just got tired of it. I got tired of Elder Lyons, or Rothchild, or even Sarah, at the end, telling me how I should do things."
"So you mean after everything you did, you had a chip on your shoulder?" Smith asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. John thought for a moment on that, before finally reaching the realization that the man was right. Here, in private, with a man who had accomplished feats that were at least the equal to his own, he could admit to his mistakes.
"Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that. I was proud. God, was I proud, Smith," John began, looking at the bigger man, who nodded his head; encouraging John to continue. "After everything that had happened, I thought I was invincible. I was 20, I had destroyed the Enclave, destroyed Vault 87, cleared out Evergreen Mills and Paradise Falls. So yeah, it went to my head. I had begun to buy into my own legend, I had forgotten my faith. And then the Vertibird crash happened," the Wanderer explained.
"And how did that change things?" Smith asked.
"Personally? It was like a shock to the system. Suddenly I wasn't invincible. My knee was ruined, I had been shot multiple times and nearly died. And then the Brotherhood wasn't even who bailed me out. It was Reilly and the fucking Talon Company," he explained; before Smith cut him off.
"Who are the Talon Company?" he asked.
"They're the largest mercenary group in the Wasteland, and they're brutal. Brutal, and ruthless; but they're not stupid. They saw the writing on the wall after Paradise Falls; most of them, at least. After Clover assassinated Jabsco, it allowed new leadership to take charge. When they heard the distress call I broadcast from the Vertibird, they responded. They arrived just in time, too. Like I said back outside Indianapolis, I was with Charon and Fawkes, and nearly all our ammo was spent. I couldn't stand because of my knee and then the blood loss from the gunfire; Charon's legs had been broken and he was lapsing in and out of consciousness because he had been hit too. If it had gone hand to hand Fawkes was the only one that would have been combat effective, and eventually he would have been overwhelmed."
"Did the Brotherhood say why they didn't send in a rescue mission?" Smith asked.
"The response over the radio was that they couldn't risk another bird going down. I guess eventually Sarah broke through with the Pride to the crash site; recovered the bodies of the pilots and crew chief and destroyed the wreckage. By that time I was in Underworld, being operated on. That was always their explanation; that they were coming in on foot because they couldn't risk another Vertibird being shot down. There was always a part of me that thought that Lyons was holding back a rescue mission as a convenient excuse to get me and the others out of the way. The war was winding down by then; and I always suspected that they wanted me out of the picture," John explained. Smith couldn't help snickering at that.
"Wanted you out of the way? Think you might be giving yourself a bit too much credit there?" he asked. John couldn't help but blush slightly in embarrassment, like a chastised child.
"It was just a thought," he mumbled.
"Look, kid. You're good. I'm sure you were better before you were injured. Hell, I remember how I was when I was your age too. I thought I could take on anything. But you seriously think a whole chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel would need a convenient accident to get rid of you? If they wanted to kill you, you'd have been dead. No matter how good either of us are, eventually numbers will win out," Smith explained. John nodded, recognizing the truth in Smith's words. It was strange for him, having someone that he felt could truly understand what he had gone through; stranger still to be able to admit, out loud and for the first time, his own role in the end of the alliance with the Brotherhood. Before John could speak, Smith continued. "You know, after you get your knee worked on, when we're in the NCR, you might think about talking to the Followers about some help with the Med-X and drinking as well. If you're really intent on trying to make a unified state out east, you have to be at your best. You can't do that when you're hooked on Med-X and an alcoholic." John sighed, wanting only to avoid that topic altogether. Secretly, he had known for some time that he needed to get some sort of help for his addictions. They had served as his way of forgetting things; the loss of Amata and his father most prominently, and by the time she had returned to his life he had become physically addicted, not just mentally. Sensing John's discomfort, Smith changed the topic.
"Come on, why don't we get back downstairs? It sounds like the kids have arrived," he said, slapping John on the shoulder before heading back down the stairs. He limped down after the man, the sound of laughter and talking echoing up the stairway from the dining room.
Lucas Simms met Amata and her group inside the gate to Megaton. Smiling widely at the group, he extended his hand to Amata first, giving it a firm shake before turning to Clancy, the Talon Company leader.
"Overseer. Commander. Good to see both of you," he began. "Everyone's assembling in the common room, you're the last group to arrive," he continued, turning to lead them to where the meeting was.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Amata replied. She prided herself on punctuality and being a polite guest; she hated being late to anything.
"Don't even mention it. Evan King only got here a couple minutes ago, so we haven't been waiting long," he said. They entered the common room, Amata's eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim room. As they did she realized all eyes were on her and her group. Again, more than one was looking at her abdomen.
"This is the last of us. Quick introduction before we get started. For those of you that don't know, this is Commander Jackson Clancy, head of the Talon Company; and this is Overseer Amata Almodovar, Vault 101. Amata, Jackson; these are Evan King, Uncle Roe, and Reilly," Lucas said, gesturing to each name as he said them. Amata had met none of them before, but Reilly's face showed a hint of recognition at seeing her. Amata walked over to an empty seat, Susie and Gomez beside her, and together they took their places. Lucas remained standing, addressing the group.
"So we know why we're all here. Brotherhood's stopped bringing the water to all of our towns, and we've been relying on Vault 101's purification system to keep us afloat, so to speak. That and these raider attacks that have been happening, and we've got to do something. So let's hear it. Who's got some idea on how we move forward?" There was a moment of silence before Clancy spoke up.
"Look, I don't really do politics or anything like that, but I say we take the fight to these raiders. My boys haven't had a good dust up in a while, they'd be ready to go."
"You remember how long it took the Wanderer to hunt them all down though? You could be walking into an endless fight. And there wouldn't be any money in it for your men," Roe responded.
"We'd take water. We haven't got shit out at the fort. If we could get resupplied on a regular basis with Aqua Pura, that'd be a start," Clancy replied. Reilly finally lost her restraint, voicing all their doubts.
"Seriously, Clancy? You guys were the most violent group of mercs in the Wastes for years and suddenly you're going to take water as payment? Bullshit," she said; King and Roe nodding nervously in agreement.
"Look, I know we don't got the best rep, but we're part of the Wasteland too. And everyone already thinks we're the bad guys. No one's going to cry if some Talon Company boys die fighting raiders, and no one's going to be surprised if we do some bad things to the raiders we find," he replied. Reilly still looked uncomfortable with the idea, before King voiced his own idea.
"What about the Regulators, Lucas? Could you get Cruz to help patrol the ruins where Reilly's people are? The extra people could make a difference," he said. Lucas nodded thoughtfully at the question.
"I could, I suppose. I dunno if Sonora's gonna go for it, but I'll talk to her." Amata listened quietly, having nothing to add to a conversation she could barely keep up with. Lucas continued to the next topic. "Now, we have to figure out how we're going to handle the Brotherhood. Sooner or later word's gonna get back to them that we're purifying and running our own water. What'd we do about that?" It was again Clancy who spoke.
"We could talk to the Outcasts, down at Independence. They might be willing to…" he was interrupted by the sound of Reilly's raucous laughter, the Talon Company leader falling silent to look at her. When she controlled her laughter, she spoke.
"The Outcasts? Really? They might not like Lyons, but they think most Wastelanders are barely a step up from Mole Rats. What makes you think they'd help us?" Amata finally saw an opening and spoke.
"Give them something they want. What's important to them?" she asked, not having heard much about the group.
"Technology," Simms replied. "They broke off from Lyons' group because they didn't believe in getting involved with the affairs of the Wasteland." Amata nodded at his answer.
"That's easy enough, then. We offer them tech if they'll come down on our side if there's war with the Brotherhood," she replied. Reilly couldn't help but snicker at her response.
"Really? That easy, huh? And what tech are we going to give them, exactly?" Amata looked the older woman in the eye, refusing to back down from the challenge.
"Vaults have all sorts of technology in them," she responded simply, drawing a murmur from the room. Reilly never broke eye contact with Amata.
"And you're just going to give them access to your Vault out of the goodness of your heart?" she asked sarcastically. Amata shook her head in response.
"No. But I have access to a full listing of the Vaults in the area, and I know one that's still pristine and has advanced technologies in it."
"Which Vault is that, Overseer?" Simms asked.
"Vault 112. I'll offer them Vault 112 if they'll give us military aid."
Smith's dining room became quite crowded after the arrival of his children. The oldest, Davin, had brought his own family with him, an infant girl bouncing on his knee as they sat around and conversed. The feeling in the room was one that John had always longed for; one of belonging and acceptance. It had always just been him and his father, Amata being the only person outside his family he had been able to count on when he was a child. Once he had become the Lone Wanderer, he had become something that others didn't think had human emotional needs. That had always disheartened him, on some level. It was, he realized in retrospect, why he had made such a hard break from his Lone Wanderer persona after the war had ended. Next to him sat Gale, who had been shooting him looks of concern as he had quietly sat through dinner, making polite conversation but otherwise quiet. It was the reverse of how she had seen John interact in social settings before. In every city they had been to he would end up as the life of the party, comfortably talking to anyone and everyone about a variety of topics. She could sense that there was something different about him tonight, after he had gone upstairs with Smith. The first hint had been when he opted to drink Nuka-Cola, instead of some sort of liquor.
"Are you ok, John?" she asked, leaning over to whisper it in his ear. He shot her a look and a quick smile before nodding.
"Yeah. Just thinking about things," he responded.
"You want to talk about it?" she asked, hoping he would finally open up to her.
"Nah. I'm fine. Just had a bit of a heart to heart with Smith and it has me thinking about stuff now," he replied, before killing his cola and falling back into silence. Gale sat back in her seat, silently frustrated. She felt like she had grown close to him over the time they had been on the road, but he still kept her at arm's length. John quietly excused himself before pushing back from the table and walking away. A moment later she heard the door that led into the backyard of the house open and shut. Miria shared a glance with Smith from where she sat, before nodding at him. Wordlessly, he stood up and followed John out into the yard. Miria looked at Gale as Smith left, smiling at the girl.
"You're hot for him, huh?" she asked. Gale blushed furiously at Miria's terminology, as well as her ability to pick up on it. After taking a moment to cool her embarrassment, Gale responded.
"I guess, yeah. I like him a lot," she responded. Miria nodded at her.
"I know how that goes. There's something magnetic about them. Yudhajit was the same way when we were young. I was just…drawn to him, in a way I couldn't explain. Yours, though…yours is a lost one. I don't want to be a dream killer, Gale, but you should prepare yourself for the idea that he may never come around. He seems pretty committed to the idea of his girl back in D.C.," she said. Gale frowned at that.
"I don't know why. She hurt him, I can tell. I heard the stories from the traders. They say he went back down into that Vault and then she kicked him out after he helped her take it over," she responded.
"Maybe you should ask him for yourself, sometime. Maybe he'd finally open up about it," Miria said, smiling at Gale one last time before turning her attention back to her grandchild.
The meeting in Megaton finally concluded for the day; with many ideas discussed and none firmly decided on. The only consensus that had been reached is that the Talon Company would increase the amount of water they delivered to Vault 101 for purification, in return for a larger share of the purified water that was produced. The group made their way down to the Brass Lantern to eat dinner; Amata noticing a young, fairly attractive blonde standing behind the counter, eyes darting from Amata's face to her abdomen, her cheeks flushed. The woman wordlessly threw the towel she had been wiping the counter with down before storming inside the building, drawing a bewildered look from Amata.
"Shit…" Lucas muttered under his breath, realizing that Lucy had realized exactly who the father of Amata's child was. A moment later the blonde returned from the inside of the building and stalked across the crater, eyes locked forward as she crossed and began making her way up the walkways. With no explanation forthcoming from anyone, Amata pushed the incident from her mind and followed the group inside, sitting down around a table that had been set up for the large group. It was a welcome relief to the group to be able to discuss something besides business. Sitting around the table, Reilly looked to Amata and finally voiced the question that was on everyone's mind.
"What dog do you have in this fight, Overseer? Why get involved in anything when your Vault has been closed for so long?" she asked. Amata smiled at her.
"I feel like I owe it to JJ…" she began, before Reilly cut her off.
"Who's JJ?" Amata sighed, forgetting that outside the Vault no one knew his nickname.
"John. It was his nickname growing up," she explained.
"How'd he get that?" Simms asked. He felt like he knew the kid pretty well, but he had never heard about a nickname.
"His middle name begins with a J too," she replied; continuing with her original point before she could be interrupted again. "He came back and helped us, helped me, when I asked for it. And then I let him down. I know I did, and I've regretted it for three years. And now that he's gone and everything he worked to do is falling apart, I feel like I can show him how sorry I am that I hurt him," she replied. There was a moment of silence as the others took a moment to think about that; the first time they thought of the Lone Wanderer as something more than a superhuman killing-machine.
"What's your due date?" Reilly asked, changing topic as Jenny Stahl began delivering their food to the table. A look of discomfort crossed Jenny's face, one that Amata noticed. Ignoring it as well, she thanked Jenny as she brought her her food, before responding to Reilly.
"April 15th," she replied.
"Is John the father?" Lucas asked, taking a bite of his food as he did. Amata nodded at him as she chewed, waiting to finish before speaking.
"Yeah. Happened right before he left," she said, drawing some murmurs of sympathy from the group.
"That's some shitty luck," Clancy said. She laughed at his blunt response.
"Yeah, you could say that. I'll live, though. He'll be in for a surprise when he gets back," she said, drawing some laughter from the group as she began to relax around them.
The raider stumbled forward, frantically running from the phantom that had just slaughtered his friends. They had been sitting around a fire, passing around the Jet and Psycho, when Meag's head came flying off. None of them had seen what had done it, and before any of them could react, two more of them had died, falling to the ground with blood spurting everywhere. He had booked it, turning and running into the night as his last remaining friend screamed at him, spraying the room briefly with his 10-mil before being cut down as well. The raider slowed as he began to run out of breath, looking around in an attempt to figure out where he was. With no warning, his legs gave out from under him. He looked down to see he had been shot, blood pouring from both. There had been no gunshot, though.
"What the fuck?!" he yelled to no one in particular. "What the fuck are you? What'd you want?" he screamed as he rolled on the ground, unable to move. From the distance he thought he saw some sort of shadow move, almost impossible to spot in the darkness and with as quietly as it moved. The shadow came closer before becoming visible; a lithe figure holding what looked like a suppressed rifle, a sword strapped across its back. He could tell, looking at the figure of the suit, that a woman wore it; the black, skintight suit showing ample curves that he otherwise would have commented on. "What are you?!" he repeated, frantic. From behind the golden faceplate of the suit came the sound of muffled laughter.
"And I heard, as it were the noise of thunder, one of the four beasts saying come and see," the woman's voice replied, low and sultry. She strode forward slowly, confidently; slinging her rifle and drawing the sword off her back. "And I saw, and behold a white horse: and she that sat on him had a bow, and a crown was given unto her: and she went forth conquering, and to conquer."
"What the fuck?!" he demanded, her words making no sense. He was met by more laughter.
"Sorry, sugar. It's nothing personal. Just you and your friends are fucking up all the work that Lover and me and the freak and the zombie did. It's just business," she replied. The raider opened his mouth to respond; but before he could, she had swung her sword around and skewered him through the heart with it, blood pouring out of the man's mouth as he quickly died. The figure looked down at the dead raider, a feeling of frustration creeping up in her. She was the only one left. Lover and the freak had gone west, the radio said; and the zombie was in Baltimore. Pulling back the hood of the stealth suit that the Wanderer had given her, Clover felt the wind run through her hair; allowing herself to absorb the atmosphere of the Capital Wasteland for the first time in over two years.
So that is the longest chapter of the story thus far. Thanks for all the feedback, guys. It was really great and I appreciate it; and your thoughts and comments have been great in reminding me of areas I should elaborate on and further explain. Anyrate, I'm actually posting this from the Denver airport, I have a 5 hour layover and decided I'd wrap this chapter up. In exciting news, I'm from D.C. and am heading back there for a while; so as of tonight I'll be back in the Capital Wasteland!
Also, on that note, a comment about geography: the map of the Capital Wasteland that's given in Fallout 3 is inverted. It's been turned on it's side, actually-in reality Megaton would be in the south, Oasis would be the far west (depending on scale that would be in the far western part of Montgomery County, MD), and the DC ruins would be in the upper part of the map. So I'm using real world directions for where everything would be; apologies for any confusion that may cause. Anyway, any comments or questions, lay them on me! Thanks for reading!