Revised on the 30th of September 2017
Watchpoint: Gibraltar, Mediterranean, Europe
2076
Angela yawned as she walked through the base to Winston's lab. The morning Mediterranean sun shined over her tired form, wearing a gray hoodie over a simple white tank top and a pair of plaid pajama pants with an orange and black theme. It was rather chilly in the mornings, especially with their proximity to open waters, which was why the sleepy blonde was using a hoodie. She was - for what seems like the umpteenth time - holding her holopad close to her, hugging it to her chest as she really did not trust her drowsy self to keep a firm grip on it. She spent all night, against her better judgment as a doctor, writing out the report of Nathan's performance and behavior during their mission to Egypt. While she did make notes on some of his antisocial behavior and rough attitude at times, she did make light of the assistance he provided for them during the mission, mainly him spotting out the young pickpocket and helping McCree despite the standing between the two. She also recounted the instance of him using some of the advanced equipment he had at his disposal, a "Stealth Boy" that Jesse had recalled, in subduing the U.N. soldiers. Cloaking technology like that would definitely be something Winston would be interested in, among others. All-in-all, Nathan didn't really do them wrong during the mission. Despite that, she did make a footnote in her report suggesting to at least have him be observed a couple more times in any future missions he'll be sent on. It's still too early to be outright giving tech to him, especially any of Overwatch's technology. They'll wait and see.
Angela had now entered Winston's messy abode, and not seeing him anywhere on the ground floor, went upstairs to see if the scientist was working at his desk. And he was, but in the company of Fareeha, Ana, and Jack all gathered around his desk. Fareeha being in a blue Overwatch hoodie she must've found, Ana in a turtleneck, and Jack just wearing his shirt and pants... With his mask still on.
"Guete Morge!" Dr. Ziegler greeted to the group. "I hope your nights were better than...?"
That was when she noticed they were all giving her stares of disbelief, at least that's what she could tell with Fareeha and Ana. The blonde looked at Winston to gain a semblance of what was happening. The Scientist had his arms folded over his chest and just shrugged, rather casually. Her eyes drifted upward and saw a holovid, one of her and Nathan in the interrogation room.
"I'm assuming Winston just informed all of you about..." the Swiss doctor paused to find the proper wording. "Nathan's origin, did he?"
"Yeah..." the gruff voice of Morrison drew out under his mask, though, she could sense a quizzical look under it. "You could say that."
"I see. Well, I'm sorry to hear that."
She walked up to Winston's side and handed him her holopad, all eyes still glued to her.
"Here's the report you wanted."
"Oh, thank you," the gorilla gratefully said as he took the pad in his larger palm, swiped a file onto his desk, and manipulated the hologram and saving it. "I'll make sure to be thorough with it."
Winston gave the pad back to her, and she was about to turn around to make an exit until he called out to her.
"Oh, I almost forgot to mention!" Winston said as Ziegler turned around to address him with a puzzled look. "Nathan was actually here, earlier. He was asking for some tools he could borrow. Some paper, too."
"Really?" she let out, curiosity in her piqued. "What for?"
"I don't know, said he was gonna work on something I might make a use out of. Doing his 'end of the bargain' as he said. Thought to use my workshop even when I offered, though. Just thought you might be interested in knowing."
Indeed, she was, and an idea formed in her mind. Taking advantage of an opportunity given to her. In getting to know the Courier.
"Well, where is he?"
Nathan, now dressed more modestly in a loaned Overwatch shirt and his jeans, was hunched over the desk and writing notes onto a piece of paper, one of many, as there were other sheets with words, scrawled onto them. Some even had drawings on them, though, they were crude at best and weren't meant to be artistic. Next to the piles of paper was the disassembled structure of one of his Stealth Boy's, parts were neatly strewn about as a set of tools were placed next to the device, some of them borrowed. Next to that was an ashtray with a lit cigarette. Music blared throughout the room at a modest volume as the man was hunched over his desk working. The words "Big Iron" echoed from his Pip-Boy.
Brin started working on this around an hour or so ago. He sighed as he leaned back into his chair and ran his hand through his short, black hair. He grabbed the sheets of paper with writing on them and started to look them over, checking what he wrote.
Basically, he wrote down the specifications of the device; its manufacturer, its intended purpose, and its function. He also wrote instructions on how to safely disassemble and reassemble the device, and how to wear and operate it. However, the Waster felt something was missing as he read over the paper until some more information crossed his mind. Important information. He brought out a fresh piece of paper and set it down, bringing a pencil down upon soon after.
"Warning," he said aloud as he was writing. "Extensive use of the Stealth Boy and over-exposure to the 'stealth radiation' emitted by the device has been linked to symptoms like what is described in Schizophrenia, mainly paranoia, delusions, and hallucinations. However, these effects are most pronounced in..."
He paused, as he was certain that whoever would read this wouldn't know what a Nightkin is, nonetheless Super Mutants. And that would be another discussion he would rather not get roped in.
"... Certain 'subjects'."
"Mr. Brin?" Athena spoke out from the desk, appearing in a holographic flash in front of him.
"Jesus, ya gotta stop that!" he exclaimed in surprise, clutching at his chest.
"My apologies, Mr. Brin, but as per your request that I tell you when I inform someone who is looking for you, Dr. Ziegler is currently en-route to your room."
"What? Why?"
"I am afraid you have to ask her, as she is currently three-point-five meters from your door."
Scant three seconds after she said that a knock came at his door. Nathan leaned against the desk and tiredly rubbed his eyes before rising and going to the door. It slid open and revealed the Swiss Blonde holding two steaming coffee mugs.
"Ah, Guete Morge!" she greeted with a smile. "How are you?"
The man looked at her and the coffee incredulously before he exhaled through his nose.
"I'm fine," he responded somewhat indifferently. "Athena told me you were coming."
"She did? Well, I hope I'm not intruding on anything. Coffee? Careful, it's hot."
Nathan took the cup in his hand, handling it carefully as to not get scalded on his palms. He brought it up to his nose and gave it a whiff, surprised by how pleasant the brown brew smelled. He looked at the blonde who was intently watching his actions before he turned around and walked to his desk and set the coffee down.
"So, what're you here for?" the Courier began.
"I just wanted to talk," the Doctor responded, going inside, and looking around his quarters. "Interesting music... Winston told me you were working on something."
At hearing that, Nathan rolled his chair to the dresser and filed through one of the drawers. He produced a familiar, circular metal object and rolled back to his desk, handing her the device. She looked at it rather quizzically as she sipped her coffee.
"That's a Stealth Boy," he started to explain, turning his back to her. "It's the same device I used to get the edge on those guys back at Egypt. Figured the gorilla would find a use for it."
"How does it work?" she asked, choosing to ignore how he addressed her friend.
"All detailed here," he replies, waving the pieces of paper in the air before setting it down. "You can read it if you want. Though, I honestly doubt that's why you're here. Why are you here, then?"
Angela was a bit taken aback by his accusatory question and tone he phrased it in. She figured he would be cold, though, just not so openly and bluntly.
"What?" Angela responded. "I just told you; I just want to talk."
"And do what?" the Courier just questioned further, turning on his chair to face her with a suspicious expression.
"What else? Just trying to get to know you, have a friendly chat."
Nathan just stared at her, his eyes slightly squinting as he scrutinized her form. Angela, likewise, did that same but not nearly as intently as him, and not nearly as suspicious, either. Just an attempt to empathize with him. She was getting a bit irritated by his attempts to avoid conversation but understood why he might be not very eager to open his mouth. These past few days haven't been the easiest for him to deal with, and he was still largely adjusting to everything. The bearded man exhaling brought her attention.
"Listen," the Courier said, neutrally. "I appr- Understand - why you're trying to do this. I just think you're wasting your time being here instead of anywhere else. Besides, I'm sure someone else in the base wouldn't mind conversing with the 'Good Doctor'."
"What makes you think that?" the Doctor asks, her brows furrowing.
"It's... I dunno. The less you know about me, the better, I guess. Better for both us, since I won't be here long."
"I disagree. You're going be living on this base for who knows how long, and you'll be stuck here with other people who know next to nothing about you or know only the strange information you told us. That's the case for Fareeha, Ana, and Jack. These may be the same people you will work and fight alongside with. Do you really want to be an outcast to them?"
"Why do you care? I've done fine by my lonesome, so far."
"Maybe, but I and most likely the others would probably feel much better knowing who this 'Courier' actually is. Not a stranger who we only ever see in that mask and coat. Put an actual face to who that is. Besides, do you even know anything about any of them?"
Nathan, once again, just stared at her as she cradled the steaming cup of coffee in her hands. He looked to the side, looking at the armor and mask situated on top his dresser. He let out another long sigh.
"I see your point," Nathan begrudgingly admitted as he looked back at the woman. "But what do you want to know? Specifically?"
"Well..." Angela hummed out as she went deep in thought about what to ask. "How about where you're from, for starters? You only ever said you were from California and that was it."
Nathan patted his thigh as he adjusted himself in his chair. Angela taking a seat on his bed across from his, getting ready to listen to whatever he had to say.
"I guess we'll start with that then..." the New Californian getting ready to tell a story. "Well, 'for starters' as you said, I'm from a tribal village, called 'Arroyo'."
"Tribal?" the Swiss woman questioned, her brows furrowing. "What do you mean by that?"
"After the war, plenty of groups that were isolated enough regressed, in a way. They started living off the land, hunting, and foraging for food, and grew fairly humble settlements. Hell, they even develop their own languages and culture if they've lived far from civilization for long enough. Arroyo was different, however. We were descendant from a group of Vault Dwellers, people who lived long after the war."
"Vaults? You said they were large bomb shelters built by the US Government to protect its citizens from a nuclear war, right?"
"... More or less."
Again, Angela noticed more odd mannerisms in the way he said that, prompting more questions in her mind. Though, she decided they had to stay on topic and not ruin the conversation they were miraculously having. Wanting to savor it with the decent coffee.
"So, what was it like?" she said, continuing the conversation. "Growing up in 'Arroyo'?"
"As I said, it was a tribal village, so I grew up learning what a tribal learns: Hunting, foraging, and fighting. But, we also lived with a group of Vault Dwellers, people from the same vault as our descendants, in fact. With the tech they had from the vault and the survival skills of the tribals, Arroyo went from being a village to a pretty prosperous city. Saw it all happen."
"Impressive! What about your parents?"
"Well, I grew up with my mother and she was the one who taught me most of what I know, with the help of some of the other tribals and the Vault Dwellers. I never knew my father, though. And before you do, please don't go into a tirade of how you're sorry and offering deepest condolences and all that petty bullshit, alright? Save your glass for someone who's crying."
Angela was a bit wide-eyed at that last statement, not expecting the usually blunt man to be more-so. At least he seemed honest, painfully so.
"Er-well," she stammered out. "I'm sorry if you'll excuse me for doing so... Do you at least know who he was?"
"... Not really," he answered, shrugging. "To the contrary of a person who ditches their child just when they were born, I've heard he wasn't really a bad person. He was well-liked, really. It was just that one day he decided to up and leave and say goodbye to the whole tribe. At least, that's what I got from my mother… What about you? What's your story?"
Before Angela could happily explain about her Swiss birthplace, a holographic image popped up from the desk and startled Nathan, causing him to say some obscenities.
"Dr. Ziegler," Athena called out. "Your assistance is needed at the landing pad. Agent Oxton's team has returned from their mission. It seems quite urgent."
"Tell them I'll be there," Dr. Ziegler as she got up from the bed and to the door. "Well, it looks like we'll have to wait next time until our next conversation. So, thank you, Nathan. Auf Wiedersehen!"
Nathan watched as the blonde made her exit through the doorway and the door slid closed behind her. He slumps back in his chair before looking back at the work he was doing. He eyes the coffee cup, its dark and now warm liquid untouched. He reaches for the mug's handle and brought it up to his face. He sniffs it and brings the brim to his lips and takes a generous sip, savoring the liquid as it flows over his tongue. After gulping it down, he decides to take another sip.
Hidden Valley, Mojave Wasteland
2285
"Jesus Christ, I can't see fuck all!"
The search party had traveled well over a day to the site of Hidden Valley, where the Brotherhood was supposedly operating out of. They had reached the perimeter of the valley at night time and everything seemed to be okay, at first, until a huge and violent sandstorm enveloped the presence of the party seemingly out of nowhere. Their vision impaired by all the sand kicked up and blowing against their face, stinging with every grain of sand. Their hearing also impaired by the rushing of the wind surrounding them, not able to hear their own voices even when they yelled. Parmley had covered his face with his red bandana and sunglasses but they weren't optimal protection against the storm. Boone fared slightly better as he had a pair of trooper goggles to give ample protection to his eyes but still had nothing better than a bandana for his face. Cooper didn't have any such luxuries, so the poor pup would have to take the brunt of it.
"Do you know where we're going?" Parmley yelled over the winds. "I feel like we've been walking in circles!"
Boone didn't give an answer as he continued leading the group through the storm, his eyes set ahead of him for any sign of the shelter. Thankfully, after what seemed like an hour of leaning against the storm, the Sniper's eyes spotted a large mound-like structure in the distance. He squinted his eyes, tried the pick out the important detail he needed before the group could venture further into their quest. Then he saw it, the silhouette of a tree stump on the mound.
"There," the Sniper stated, finding the confirmation he needed.
The group of three double-timed it to the bunker entrance's metal door. Operating it and forcing it open, they all piled into the refuge and slammed the metal door shut, halting the storm. Boone began coughing up all the sand and grit his bandana failed to block from going in and Parmley kneeling next to Cooper, wiping away all the sand from the hound's face and eyes with his bandana.
Afterwards, the group descended the long stairway and found themselves in a large underground with crates, and another metal door with an intercom next to it. Boone went up to the speaker and pressed the button before he spoke into it.
"Ramos," he said to whoever would be listening. "It's me, Boone, and a couple others with me, too. I'm here to speak with McNamara. It's about Nathan."
There was nothing but radio silence and static. After a couple of moments, however, the intercom came to life.
"I've informed the Elder that you're coming. Unlocking the door now. Don't cause any trouble, please," a monotone, firm voice spoke through.
The metal door slid open of its own volition and permitted the three to walk in. They were immediately greeted by the sight of two Brotherhood Paladins in T-51b power armor - one wielding a Gatling Laser and the other a Gauss Rifle - at guard posts that were on either side of the main bunker entrance. Parmley tensed up at the sight of this, and even though there was currently a treaty between the NCR and Mojave Brotherhood, it was more of them tolerating each other with an armistice than a friendship. Boone didn't really care as he just walked ahead without a worry up to the entrance with the Ranger and Canine in tow. He regarded both guards with simple nods, the Paladins returning the gesture in their hulking armor.
They made their way deeper into the installation, Parmley being forced to follow Boone as he was in a completely different environment; He treks through the wilderness, not old Pre-War bunkers. The young Ranger couldn't help but stare in awe at his surroundings, the advanced security systems, the meandering patrols in power armor, and the random people in those skin suits. He couldn't help but notice they were getting stares of their own, but they seem more directed at him than the Sniper.
"They don't get a lot of visitors, do they?" he muttered low enough for only Boone to hear.
"Some," the Sniper measly answered, remember where to go by memory. "Special cases, really."
Boone only led them deeper into the second level of the bunker and taking them down to a dim hallway. The hallway led to a doorway that was guarded on either side by another set of Paladins, both with Gauss Rifles and in the middle a raised platform a circular command desk in the middle. Sitting at that desk was a white-haired man in dark robes, emanating an aura of command and intellect as the three-walked in. Parmley could only guess who he was, and that was someone rather important.
"Ah, Mr. Boone, I see you've brought some guests," the Elder said, sounding surprisingly welcoming with his words as if speaking to an old acquaintance. "How can I assist you?"
"Don't know if you know this or not, but the Courier's gone missing," the Sniper said with a serious and deadpan tone. "And we think it may involve advanced tech, things we know nothing about."
"I see. Are you certain that he is really missing?"
"For starters, he never leaves this dog's side and nor does the dog. Second, he led us to a Pre-War satellite and they were bodies everywhere, Legion especially. Why else would the beaten Legion send a group so far into the territory to just die around some tech?"
McNamara's visage became thoughtful, a definite hint of concern growing on his face. He did a good job of masking it, for everyone's sake.
"This is troubling news," he remarked. "So, why have you come to the Brotherhood?"
"I already told you, it involves advanced technology," Boone said. "Something you could possibly help us with."
"What exactly does this technologically accomplish?"
"Well, I don't know the specifics of it, but I'm pretty sure it involves teleportation."
The room became silent when he uttered that last word, McNamara's calm visage breaking with his brows furrowed and mouth held slightly agape, and even the Paladins just stared at Craig under their helmets.
"Even if I had anyone capable of understanding what you just said under my ranks," the Elder said with disbelief ever present in his voice. "I, regrettably, cannot spare you any assistance."
"What?!" Parmley spoke up, once again becoming irritated with being denied help. "Why not?!"
"As much as I would like to assist the Courier, I have received word from the NCR at Camp McCarran, not so long ago, to be put on high alert of a possible threat. I have already dispatched a couple squads before we spoke."
To both the Ranger and the 1st Recon Sharpshooter, this was news. They never received word of anything of a "threat" from their posts. Nonetheless, something to put the Brotherhood on high alert.
"Why?" the Ranger questioned, suspicious of what he meant. "What threat are you talking about? Legion's too weak and drowning in their own set of problems back east, and raiders are almost wiped out or too scared to come out."
"I am unfortunately not at liberty to say," McNamara barely answered. "But, I refuse to leave a friend of a friend empty-handed. I can spare any weapons or equipment you may need for your search."
"I don't really see how that can help us find him..."
"That's not all, I do know of someone who could help you with this technology. A good friend of Nathan, I'm sure Boone knows her. Go to the Old Mormon Fort in Freeside and ask for a woman named 'Veronica'. With Boone at your side and your news of the Nathan Brin's disappearance, she may be more than willing to help. You can stay here for the night if you wish."
Boone and Parmley exchanged looks, mostly of skepticism, but hopefully, things will turn out for the better once they find this other friend. They've already come this far, might as well not squander what's been given to them.
"Thanks for the offer, Elder," Boone said. "But we have to be on the move as much as possible. We'll help ourselves to some of that gear, though."
"Then so be it. I hope you succeed in finding our mutual friend," Elder McNamara wished, giving them a warm and friendly smile in the dim light.
The search party left the Elder's sight, possibly on their way to see the quartermaster to gear-up before leaving the bunker. McNamara then heard the approaching footsteps of armor walk up to him, and he turned to address his hulking Head Paladin, Edgar Hardin.
"So, the Courier's missing, huh?" Hardin said, recounting what he heard from their conversation. "And advanced tech is possibly involved? Do you think it would be wise to send a scouting party to see what they found?"
"No," McNamara simply stated. "With the possibility of a high-level threat and our numbers small as they are, sending another group of Brothers and Sisters chasing a hunch would be foolish."
Hardin regarded the Elder, keeping his composure despite what his superior had said. The Paladin leaves the Elder's side.
"I see. Unfortunate. I wish they do well in their search, then."
AN: Hey guys, PoeticPillock here! Hope you enjoyed this chapter of the story and please be sure to leave any reviews/comments/criticisms you have about it (I feel iffy about the quality of this chapter). I just wanted to say that you should expect the next chapters to come slower than usual. School's gonna be a bit hectic in the coming weeks and I just wanted to have a little forewarning about that. Also, ever since I posted this story I have responded to reviews individually through PM's. So, I wanted to ask if anyone would prefer me responding to the reviews in these ANs so that everyone can gain some insight into the development of this story. Though, if it is anything pertaining to future events and possible spoilers, I may not post those up. Just a thought that crossed my mind. Again, thanks for reading my story and so long!
