A'N: Salutations from the realm of make believe and insanity. Apologies for the late post. After going back through the upcoming sequence, I decided I wanted to make some adjustments and that necessitated a pretty thorough rework of this chapter. So... blame my indecisivness. That being said, I think this chapter is going to be a little different than what you all expected. Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Chapter 77: Castle

Jeering from the packed Raiders crowded around the 20-foot-wide ring was almost deafening. It was a stark reminder that not only was he facing down a drugged-out brawler that had 3 inches and at least 15 pounds on him, Nate was alone here.

Alone surrounded by Raiders.

They were nice enough to let him keep his pants and boots. No shirt though. Without it, the large purplish bruise over his left bicep was obvious against his light skin. Light, sweaty skin. The basement they'd set up this fight ring in was packed with spectators. The air was so hot and thick, the ex-soldier felt like it was impossible to take a full breath. It was possibly the worst part about the situation.

"COME ON!" someone screamed behind him. Something hit him in his back, just below his left shoulder.

Focus. You're only getting out of this in one piece if you beat this guy.

"Experience is important", Nate had said to Julian a few minutes ago. "What's more important is to understand it doesn't matter how you win a fight. If it's gotta be ugly, make that fight as ugly as you can."

"I know how to fight ugly!" the kid protested. "You don't need to do this for me."

Nate didn't mean to smile, it just happened. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get your chance to show these guys that. I know what I'm doing. I'll take round one."

At least, he hoped he knew what he was doing. The only thing he knew for sure was Castle wanted them so Damon would come calling. The Damon he knew a few months ago would have written them off. The Damon he knew now would tear this base apart to get them out.

If he could. For all his prowess, Nate doubted the SPARTAN was capable of that. And the Minutemen weren't ready for an operation like that.

As much as he wanted Damon to stay away, he knew the guy would be coming.

Instead of worrying about that, he needed to keep himself and everyone else alive and healthy enough to fight. They needed to figure out how the hell they were going to dig themselves out of this mess.

Step one was, apparently, a cage match.

Or… the drugged-up psycho version of one.

"FIGHT!" a guy with the dirtiest Mohawk Nate had ever seen shouted from his right. It was so caked in grease, the spikes he formed it into looked more like tar than hair.

Nate shuffled forward, never taking a foot off the ground for more than an instant. Years of hand-to-hand combat training and experience beat habits into him. The ex-soldier wasn't small, but he spent a lot of his time training with Cook. That man put the guy in front of Nate to shame. Cook had been a beast of a man, almost 6'5" and 240 pounds. Several inches and almost 30 pounds on Nate.

He had to learn to fight a little dirty. He had to learn to be okay with fighting a little dirty.

Which was an amusing shift when it came to training with or fighting regular-size people. But it's how the ex-soldier developed his fighting style. Oscar, his squad's gunner, described it as "a little underhanded and really goddamn douchey."

As they each neared the center of the ring, Nate's opponent, wearing an unsettling, wide-eyed stare, let out a wordless bellow and lunged forward.

The ex-soldier slid to his left and kicked at the Raider's right knee.

He wasn't fighting a complete moron, however.

The larger man twisted, planting his feet to stop his forward momentum, and swung a fist at Nate's head.

As it neared, the infantryman had to duck under the punch, and his foot missed its mark, connecting with the Raider's thigh.

And now he was off balance. Which meant he couldn't take advantage of the massive opening he'd been given.

Nate jerked his leg back to avoid the Raider's attempt to grab it and stepped away.

More jeers and boos poured from the pressing crowd. He couldn't think about that. The ex-soldier's only focus had to be getting out of this ring without being seriously injured.

With his opponent following suit, the two of them circled each other in the small fighting stage. That might be a little generous. It was a patch of dirt surrounded by screaming Raiders.

Who the hell knew what the next thing these bastards would make them do would be.

His opponent's stride was odd, too long and too wide. It looked like the stance he'd seen one of the other recruits in boot use. The guy said it was "classic boxing". He learned to be more flexible real quick.

Real fights are rarely as practiced and technical as professional matches.

Stepping in, Nate turned his shoulders to make himself as small a target as possible and jabbed at the Raider's chin. The larger man slapped it aside and tried to counter.

Before the strike could land, Nate backed away again but he didn't keep the distance longer than necessary. Once the blow passed, he shot in low and landed a hard cross just beneath the Raider's sternum.

The man was muscular. Had he not been, that might have knocked the wind out of him. As it was, the ex-soldier caught a straight kick to his left arm on the way out.

But that, apparently, broke the dam.

As he slipped to the left, the Raider followed, swinging for his head again. The punch barely missed.

His opponent wasn't done.

Continuing to chase, the larger man tried for another kick. Nate backstepped. He couldn't go much farther. He felt the wall of spectating Raiders right behind him.

Instead of trying to retreat from the next punch, he took a shuffling step to his right. The Raider tried to follow with the blow. It was an awkward, impatient strike that went out wide and took him past his already wide stance.

Nate seized the opportunity. He grabbed the Raider's wrist and twisted. The ex-soldier discovered, while someone's wrist is a good way of controlling their arm, it's easy for them to disengage from the hold if it isn't used quickly. Especially when that person is bigger and stronger than you. That was a lesson Cook taught him early on.

So he wrenched his opponent's arm up so his upper arm was parallel to the ground and his elbow was at a right angle to it. He snaked his left arm up behind the Raider's tricep and clasped his other hand over the man's wrist too.

Then the ex-soldier dropped his weight while twisting the Raider's arm back.

It was a basic maneuver, more to get on the ground than gain a hold.

The ground is where Nate could fight dirtiest.

Tumbling over backward in another wordless scream, the Raider slammed into the hard-packed dirt.

Nate released the hold and scrambled to get on top of the larger man. He was rewarded with a hook to the left side of his ribcage but he was there.

His opponent bucked, trying to get him off as Nate launched a punch at the Raider's jaw. It landed hard enough to send a shock through his wrist. It hurt.

The next punch hurt too but that didn't matter to the infantryman.

Before he could launch a third, the Raider swung at Nate's head. He leaned away to avoid it and went in for another.

This guy might have been a good brawler, but he had no idea how to fight on the ground. Any fighter worth a damn would be covering, trying to gain leverage, or trying to grapple one of Nate's punches. The Raider was almost flailing.

The ex-soldier dodged another retaliatory swing and-

Something hard slammed into the side of his head. The world exploded into white. His equilibrium went haywire and he instinctively recoiled. It gave the Raider breathing room and he felt the larger man shifting under him. The initiative was gone.

But staying still in a fight was death.

So he shoved himself off the Raider and rolled away. Everything was spinning more than it should have.

Up. Get up.

Forcing himself to his feet, Nate did his best to regain some semblance of balance. He had to. He couldn't let himself be compromised on their first day here. That's what Castle would want.

The ex-soldier was still swaying when the Raider, who had also gotten back up, lunged again. Nate needed a few seconds to recover. Rapid movements wouldn't help the situation. He needed to trade some pain for time.

Instead of dodging, Nate turned his upper body and felt the Raider's punch crash into his left shoulder.

It hurt.

Next, he dropped his right arm and elbow-blocked a hard hook that sent a jolt through his chest.

His head was starting to clear.

A straight kick to his left arm threatened to send him stumbling back into the crowd.

He blocked another straight cross.

Get back on the ground.

The Raider went for another hard hook, this one at his head. Nate ducked under it and went low. He grabbed the larger man's legs and lifted. The Raider came off the ground and Nate flipped him backward.

And they were on the ground again.

Push.

Taking the time to punch him out wouldn't work. If they were going to play it dirty, Nate needed to break something.

Nate leaned on the Raider, keeping him pinned to the ground, and scrambled so he was on the man's left side. Just like the mindless brawler he was, the Raider tried to swing at him again.

When the blow came close, Nate leaned back and caught his opponent's wrist again. He flipped over, wrapping his leg around the man's arm and pulling it straight. In the next instant, he was on his back beside him, Raider's wrist clasped to Nate's chest and his legs across the Raider's chest. A good old-fashioned arm bar.

As the Raider struggled to break the ex-soldier's grip, Nate arched his back and pushed his hips up, using the larger man's chest as leverage.

Nate gritted his teeth and strained. Keep. Going.

Break. It.

The Raider was losing this battle. His arm was flexing further and further back-

Whoever threw something missed Nate's head this time.

But it still crashed into the left side of his neck.

Reflex took over for an instant and he jerked away from the impact.

That was enough for the Raider to twist so, instead of pulling his arm out to the side, Nate was pulling it up over his head. He'd lost his leverage.

With another wrenching, twisting motion, the Raider ripped his arm free while Nate was still recovering from what he now identified as a beer bottle that had hit his throat.

Move. Don't stay down. Move!

He did, scrambling to get back to his feet. But the Raider wasn't going to give him the time.

The crowd cheered as the ex-soldier's opponent barreled into him. Both men crashed back to the ground.

This time, the Raider landed on him. And Nate was still gasping for breath.

He instinctively threw his arms up over his face. It was just in time to block a haymaker. It still hurt but at least he didn't take that to the chin.

An instant later, the next one came and slammed into Nate's left forearm.

Can't keep doing this.

Breath was just starting to flow again. It would have to be enough.

Peering between his arms, Nate watched as the Raider reared back. It was a hard right.

As his fist began traveling downward, the ex-soldier twisted, pulling his head to the right-

The Raider's punch wasn't coming straight in. It was a loose hook.

There was no time to adjust. Nate tried to bring his left arm up to block. It only caught part of the punch. The rest hit him just behind the hinge of his jaw.

White flashed across his vision and pain exploded in his head. The next punch came and he was able to avoid that, but the follow-up landed on the side of his head. That one set his ears ringing. He tasted copper.

This fight wasn't finished. It couldn't be.

His opponent's next strike was coming in straight. Nate slipped it, setting the Raider off balance for an instant. He took the momentary lapse to launch one of his own. It connected with the larger man's nose with a crunch. Blood started pouring out of it-

But the Raider just roared in anger.

Another punch hit Nate in the jaw and he could feel himself starting to fade. The world was beginning to spin. His arms weren't responding quite right. His breath was coming in sharp, pained jerks.

The ex-soldier swung again and this one hit the Raider in his chin. He didn't seem to care. Maybe he was on Jet or Psycho.

It didn't matter. The next strike hit Nate in the left eye hard enough to bounce his head off the hard dirt under him.

Everything flashed red and his arms didn't respond to his command to block.

One more hit him in the jaw and his lights were out.

The next thing Nate knew, he was staring up at the concrete ceiling above. Castle was standing over him, smug grin on her scarred face. Her close-cropped hair almost looked like spikes, silhouetted against the harsh light spilling down from the ceiling

Everything was fuzzy; the illumination coming from the fluorescent lights, the Raider commander's outline, the sounds of laughing and jeering around him. It was all muddy and distant as if he were listening and watching through a dirty window. This wasn't the first time he'd been hit that hard. The effects were never pleasant.

"If that's the best you got, you're in trouble", Nate croaked.

"That why you're the one laying on the ground, Nate?" Castle's oddly light and clear voice was just as smug as her smile.

The ex-soldier slowly pushed himself into a sitting position. The headache was already starting to pound away at his head. He leaned back and did his best to return the smile.

"A drugged-up brawler needed help from the audience to beat an out-of-practice prisoner", he said. "I win a fair fight."

"Sure you do." Castle laughed.

Nate's eyes narrowed. "I wanna see you step in the ring. And fight fair."

"Only losers whine about "fair fights"." The Raider turned around and walked toward the now-open gate. "Better luck next time, Nate."

Yeah. The ex-soldier spat after him. He could taste the coppery tinge of blood. Next time.

Two other Raiders stepped passed their boss and hauled Nate to his feet. They dragged him back through the crowd. Someone threw something else at him but it missed high.

Assholes. We'll play dirty then.

Dirtier, anyway.

In a small way, he was glad they all knew their fighter had to get help to win.

But there was a burning irritation beneath that.

He'd still lost. And the ex-soldier hated losing.

I'm still feeling alright considering. Take that for now.

A minute, two sets of stairs, and a long hallway later, Nate was tossed back into the large cell they'd put the squad in. It was the only one in the room, bars on three sides set against the concrete back wall.

The ex-soldier barely had time to take a breath before the rest of the team was crowding around him, shouting at the guards, asking how he was.

Bodies pressing in. Loud voices. It was too claustrophobic. The air felt as if it was being sucked out of the space around him. His head was spinning and fuzzy. Everything hurt. The yelling made it hurt more.

He just- he needed some space.

"Back off!" Nate snapped. It was something he wanted to take back as soon as it left his mouth.

He was the team leader. That wasn't how he should have handled the situation. He needed to be calm and collected. He needed to keep them calm and thinking.

But…

There were things he had to deal with too.

Everyone stopped shouting and looked at him.

"Sorry." The ex-soldier rubbed at his temples. That didn't help. "Just- the yelling. My head feels like it's about to explode. The yelling is too loud."

Quiet spread across the inside of the cell, every eye on the ex-soldier. 17 people looking at him. They were expecting leadership. They were expecting the career soldier to hold it together.

It isn't like I've been a POW before.

"You look like hell", Blake said, shouldering his way through the small crowd. "I'm going to give you a once over." He waved the others away. "Give us some breathing room."

The cell was large enough for double the number of people. It looked like a purpose-built setup too, not the shoddy, thrown-together job he'd come to expect from Raiders. Either it had been like this before the bombs fell, or they think they're here to stay.

Not like Nate took a tour of the place back in pre-apocalypse days.

After another moment of quiet, the rest of the team started dispersing. All except Brenda, Trent, and Blake. Blake was a medic, that made sense. Brenda… he knew the rest of the team was aware the two of them had been through a lot together in the last few weeks. They all knew Trent came from the Institute with him. He still shouldn't be playing favorites.

But he also needed something- someone he was comfortable with.

"He's right", Brenda said. "You look worse now than after Damon's-" she caught herself before she could finish the sentence. Telling everyone they'd tried to kill Maxson was a bad idea. Her wide-eyed, open-mouthed "oh shit" expression would have made him laugh. If It wouldn't have hurt. "His- uh- field trip."

"You were the worse off one after that", the ex-soldier replied, doing his best to smile past the pounding ache in his head.

She shook her head. "Not to anyone looking."

"Be quiet and stay still", Blake said, suddenly impatient. "Hold your arms out to your sides."

"Well which is it? Stay still or hold my arms out?" Nate wanted to ask that. He didn't have the energy for sarcasm. The fight wasn't long, but those are always exhausting. Especially when you have to fight both the crowd and the other person.

And then get your lights punched out.

He did as he was told. The medic felt along his neck, spine, shoulders, his jaw (Nate couldn't stop the wince when Blake prodded behind it), then down his chest and ribcage.

It didn't take more than a few minutes before Blake stepped back and shrugged. "Besides some bruising and maybe a few strains, I don't see anything wrong. Hard to know for sure but nothing looks like it would have caused internal damage. You have a headache?" Nate nodded. "Yeah, I figured. You're aware enough I don't think you have a concussion. We'll need to be careful to make sure nothing develops. Let someone else take the next fight."

"Be my guest."

Blake shook his head. "I'd rather not."

"So no brain damage anyone would notice?" Trent asked.

"Nope."

The former Institute lab tech nodded. "Good. Did you learn anything while getting your ass kicked?"

"Yeah", Nate said, frowning. "That they aren't that good. I would have beaten that guy if they didn't cheat."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." He tapped the side of his head. "They hit me with a few beer bottles when I had him in tight spots. And it looks like they're serious about not hurting us." The ex-soldier grimaced. "Too bad, anyway."

Blake snorted. "This is the first day."

Feels a lot longer than that. "Well… we've gotta take it one day at a time."

"I'm still not buying we're just here as bait", Brenda said. "If that's why we're here, why would they be keeping all of us alive? And healthy?" She glanced at Nate's face. "Ish."

Trent looked at the others standing around their holding cell. "We should have this conversation with everyone."

"Loud enough for the Raiders to hear us?"

They know we'll be talking about it. Not like we're planning anything yet. "It's fine. We don't want to make it look like we're playing favorites." He turned to the rest of the team. "Huddle up."

X

None of them had any answers. Not that Nate expected it. His head was still spinning and it wasn't just because of the blunt force trauma. They were ambushed out of nowhere, but not killed, and then hauled off in running and driving trucks. The Raiders have running and driving trucks.

That means everyone besides the Minutemen has some form of rapid transit. Vehicles, Vertibirds, and teleportation. One more disadvantage they'd have to work with.

Everything had happened so fast. It wasn't as though he hadn't experienced that during his military career, but it had been a while. And he'd never experienced it from the side of the ambushee.

Well… except for the hospital.

The thought of that place, the dead bodies, the acrid stench of burnt flesh…

Grant.

'Chills' wasn't sufficient to describe what he felt when he thought about it.

This was different. He'd been caught off guard by Raiders. They all had. That they'd stage an attack and ambush them just to get at Damon? How the hell had they even pulled that off?

The only way they could have known when and where to attack is if they had an informant. Who? And where?

Nate didn't like to make the assumption it might be someone on the team…

A door clanged open on the other end of the hall. Pounding boots sounded on the concrete and, a moment later, a trio emerged into the room. The one in the lead was large and angry-looking. He also had the closest thing to armor out of any of them, with what looked like an actual tac-vest plate carrier. Whether there was something in it or was in good shape, Nate didn't know.

"You two", the Raider said, pointing at him and Brenda. "Let's go."

It didn't take a private investigator to figure out what was going on.

"You got it", Nate replied before anyone else could protest. He stepped out of the cell and shot a sideways glance at Brenda. Walking wasn't bad considering the beating he'd taken was to the head. Besides, playing along, for now, was their best option. They need time to gather information and resources.

And, if this was about Damon… well, they'd at least learn more about what they're here for. If it wasn't… not like being defiant would get them anything. Yet.

The young woman hesitated a moment before following him into the hall. The trio of Raiders didn't say anything else as they started toward the staircase. Nate placed a hand on Brenda's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He was trying to comfort her but, if he was being honest, his heart was starting to pound. He's making a lot of assumptions. Sure, they want Damon, but that doesn't mean they won't do anything to them.

They were led to the ground floor and toward the front. There were only a handful of Raiders. A lot of other prisoners though.

Who knows, maybe Castle's getting impatient. Nate would be if he were in the guy's position. The sooner Damon was at the base, playing along, the less time he had to plan. The last person Nate would want to give time to plan is that big bastard.

But Castle was intelligent. She'd know Damon will try something. She'd know they would try something. It was a matter of who figured out what the other's plan was first. Castle was ahead at this point, but she'd already made a play. That meant they had an opportunity. If they worked fast enough.

It was dark outside, the grounds around the low, wide building illuminated by the base's lights. Raiders were everywhere, walking and talking animatedly. Nate saw a few sitting around a barrel fire, taking huffs out of a Jet dispenser.

If they were anywhere else, he'd have said it was a regular night. Or whatever constitutes regular nowadays.

They weren't though. They were in the middle of a Raider stronghold. As prisoners.

What few looks they got were a mixture of smug grins or, what the Raiders probably thought were, fierce glares.

Those lose their effect after staring down the barrel a few times.

One of the Raiders spat as they were escorted past. Nate had to wonder what they'd been told. He'd never been to the base. Or were they just like that with every prisoner?

Despite being nonplussed by their aggression, the ex-soldier couldn't say a pit hadn't settled in his stomach. They were in the middle of a Raider stronghold.

Their journey didn't last long. After leading them past three other buildings that looked, to the ex-soldier, like administrative offices, the Raiders entered one on their right. It was the same as the others except for the half-dozen guards out front. Outside of the same glares he and Brenda had gotten from everyone else, they didn't react as the five of them passed.

Inside, the well-lit halls had lost the clinical, stuck-up, stale atmosphere Nate had come to associate with these places. It had been replaced by crumbling walls and ceilings. That was an improvement.

What wasn't were the better armed and armored Raiders that walked those halls. They also looked a lot less strung out than most of the others. This was probably their leadership then. Or at the very least more veteran members who weren't frying their brains on drugs.

As they reached the lobby, the now-familiar figure of Castle was standing at the opposite end. She was wearing the same smirk she had been in the fighting ring.

Nate really wanted to wipe that off for her.

"How are you feeling?" the Raider commander asked.

They came to a stop in front of the woman. "Like I still want that one on one."

Castle laughed. "I don't know if you should. Not when a little beer bottle can do this to you." She motioned to the ex-soldier's head. "It seems like you're well enough for a conversation, so why don't we talk?"

"You first."

"Don't worry, I don't think you have much to say anyways", the Raider said before waving them down a hall.

A moment later, they were in a conference room, complete with a large table and chairs. They looked worse for wear, but they'd been shielded from weather damage. Nate had spent some time in rooms like this. It wasn't usually because he was in trouble.

Castle pulled out a chair at the far end of the table and sat. "I gotta say, I'm excited about you being here. We've been trying to figure this problem out for a while."

"Oh yeah?" Nate asked as he followed suit. Brenda stayed standing, glaring daggers at the Raider.

"Yeah. See, we have enough to worry about with the Institute and Brotherhood. Then you guys pop back up and people start joining. Thought the Minutemen were through with but", she shrugged, "cockroaches." She waved the thought away. "Yeah. You guys put a damper on our plans with the school. Had word they hadn't joined yet. When Johnson found out, he was pissed. It gave us an opportunity. That and… your little trip through Boston."

Nate's eyes narrowed. "You'll have to be more specific."

"Oh, you know, that night you met a few of our boys north of the city."

Brenda shot him a glance. "That kid", she said.

Castle nodded. "Kirk. Yeah. You probably shoulda put a bullet in him too." He leaned back in his chair. "It's what I'd have done. Especially since someone happened to try assassinating Maxson a few minutes before you met our boys."

… Shit. Nate frowned. She hadn't told the Brotherhood yet. If she had, they'd be fighting them right now, not the Raiders. Which means she wants something. If the infantryman were to guess, it's the Minutemen's cooperation. Even if Nate were willing to insult everyone by conveying that request, there's no way anyone would accept.

"He's just a kid", Nate said. "And he surrendered. I'm not in the business of executing people."

"That sounds like a problem to me. If you had, we wouldn't know something that would put the Brotherhood on your ass. You wouldn't be here."

"That's one of your people you're talking about", Brenda said. "That's-"

Castle snorted. "Doesn't matter. Doesn't change what the right thing to do was. Kirk is just a gun. We got plenty of those around here. Wouldn't have changed a thing. Well." She smiled. "Guess I can't say that now can I?"

"So you don't care?"

There was a brief pause as their 'host' held Brenda's gaze. Unless Nate was going crazy, the frown she was wearing almost looked… annoyed.

"Lemme tell you a little something, girl", she said, leaning forward. Her voice had changed. The dripping condescension was still there but it wasn't the same. It had become malicious, like she was talking to someone she knew wouldn't understand an incredibly simple concept. "I win. Whatever I have to do, I win. If some no-name kid has to die to make sure my enemy doesn't get information they could use against me, that kid is gonna die."

In a… sense, this asshole was right. If Nate had killed Kirk during their escape, they wouldn't be in this position. They wouldn't be sitting in front of Castle, here, as prisoners. Probably. But that would be a lazy way to look at it. They were in a fight with the Raiders regardless of what happened that night. If it wasn't this, they'd have done something else. Who knows, they might have taken a more aggressive stance directly against the Minutemen. It would have changed a lot of things and there's no way to tell how.

Besides, these assholes had already been attacking outlying settlements. Her thought process is one of someone who thinks in straight lines.

I'll let her think that if she wants. No reason to give any advice.

"Like I said: I'm not in the execution business."

"Yeah… I know. You don't have the stomach for it. You're soft." She smiled. "But you know someone who has the balls to do what needs to be done. From what I gather, he's a little like me."

Oh yeah? Nate's first instinct was to protest. The idea Damon was like Castle… it was downright insulting. Not just to the SPARTAN, but to Nate. As if he would ever call someone like Castle a friend. No, he'd rather eat a bullet than do that. He'd only just met her and that much was clear.

But there was a modicum of truth. Maybe… not in the way Castle thinks.

"You're sorta right", the ex-soldier said. "Damon's a little like you. He's ruthless and he likes to win. Difference is you wouldn't come here to save your friends. He will." Empathy. That's the main difference. Maybe the armored titan was still figuring it out but Nate knew it was there pretty early on. Judging by his interactions with Brenda over the last week, and his willingness to work with Nate again, he might have underestimated how deep that empathy ran.

It spoke volumes to the kid's conditioning he was able to put that away for so long.

Indoctrination can do wonders.

Castle frowned. "Well now that's just hurtful. What makes you think I wouldn't risk everything for the people I care about?"

"You didn't care about what happened to your guy", Brenda said.

"Why would I? He isn't someone I care about. He was a recent recruit from one of the settlements around here." The Raider leaned forward and folded her arms on the table. "Only reason he joined was to stay alive. Why would I have any respect for someone like that?"

Nate had to stop himself from laughing. For as brutal and remorseless Damon could be at times, that's something the ex-soldier could never see him doing: trivializing the assault of innocent people in settlements. Then mocking someone who just wanted to survive one of those massacres. "That's why you and Damon are different."

"Uh-huh." Castle's frown deepened. "Well, if he's going to lose sleep over some random nobodies, that just makes all this easier for me to win. I'm glad you confirmed my hopes: your man will be coming here."

Yeah… you're probably gonna regret that.

"What do you want with him, anyway?"

"Ah yes! Right!" The Raider straightened in her chair and smiled. Her entire demeanor had changed. "You've already told me 'Damon' cares about you. And he's willing to come to our stronghold to attempt a rescue. I know you have… an interesting idea about who he is. From what I've heard, he seems to be much more like me than you're willing to admit. Whether that's to protect yourself from being associated with someone you see as evil or some shit, I don't care. I want him. I think his talents are much better served with us than trying to defend the useless people your 'Minutemen' protect."

The Raiders. Damon with the Raiders. Nate tried to imagine what that would look like. The amount of mayhem they could rain on the Commonwealth with him at the tip of the spear. If the SPARTAN decided the only thing he wanted to do was fight and kill. If he was the person Castle thinks.

He couldn't.

Not because he didn't know what would happen. The Raiders aren't like the Institute, Brotherhood, or Minutemen. They aren't trying to build something. It's much easier to destroy. Fewer resources, less time, less energy, less effort. It means they can move like a tide.

With something like Damon leading the way, that tide would turn into a tidal wave.

No. He couldn't imagine it because that was, ironically, antithetical to who Damon is. He couldn't square the image of massacring innocent people with the image of him awkwardly, uncomfortably asking whether he could talk with Brenda. As if the armored titan needed Nate's permission to try reconciling with her.

With the image of him being so desperate to reconcile with her.

With the image of how uncomfortable he'd been when they returned to Goodneighbor.

There were more.

It wasn't that Damon was 'holding himself back' in a fight. Nate knows better than anyone that doesn't happen. No. He's just becoming more and more particular about who he fights.

And, somehow even after everything he'd been through, he's started choosing the right people. At least Nate liked to think so.

It didn't work. Castle's picture of him. That math just didn't work.

He laughed. It probably wasn't the best thing to do but he still did.

And he kept laughing.

For her part, he heard Brenda snort and finally yank out a chair to sit.

The ex-soldier's laughter continued for several seconds before he finally decided it was enough.

"You're fucking delusional", Brenda said as he fell quiet. "You think Damon would ever work with you? You have no idea who he is. Yeah, he fights and kills people. I don't always like it but he's really good at it. But if you think that means-" he snorted again, shaking her head. "Lady, if he knows your name, there isn't a person on this planet he hates more. And not just because of you taking us, either. You don't seem to cut up about what you people have been doing to settlements around here. He'd hate you for that on its own."

Castle waved the protest away. "I've already heard what you think of him. I like to think I'm a pretty good judge of character. It's why this crew is so large. It's why this crew is so good." She leaned forward again. "I don't need to hear anything else about him from you. Because I'm not just interested in him." The Raider commander pointed at the two of them. "I want you too."

Us? Nate cocked an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"Yeah. I told you, I'm a good judge of character. I mean, I don't need you for you. I'm sure you have a lot of information about the Minutemen I could torture out of you. I'd rather have your cooperation though. You can only get so much information out of someone before they break. If I get some folks who know the inner workings of the Minutemen, that makes planning attacks easier. First-hand knowledge is always best."

The ex-soldier blinked. He and Brenda exchanged a glance.

"Your information, and your friend, are way more important to me than what you can do with a gun", Castle continued. "So what do you want? This doesn't have to be an unpleasant experience for you. You could join us, wait for Damon to get here in luxury and comfort, help us plan how to get rid of the Minutemen so we can focus on those metal-heads…"

"What do you mean "what do you want?"" Brenda asked.

The Raider rolled his eyes. "Exactly what those words in that order mean. I've heard plenty about Damon. I don't know much about you though. I can get you anything you and your pals want. I can keep you out of the cages and torture chambers. Even if some of my methods are harsh, I like to think of myself as a dealmaker. As long as the people I'm making deals with are worth my time. You have something I want and taking it by force would be very difficult." He smiled. "So let's make a deal."

Anything? You can give me anything I want? I doubt that, asshole. "You hiding a time machine somewhere around here?"

"A… time machine?"

Nate nodded. "Yeah. You got a time machine?"

"What do you want a time machine for?" Castle asked.

"To go back in time", Brenda answered for the ex-soldier, her voice dripping in the same condescension she shot at her earlier.

"Why the hell would you want to go back in time?"

"Because", Nate said, "the only way I can get the thing I want is to go back in time. If you don't have a time machine, you don't have anything I want."

"Yeah, and I know how you people treat women", Brenda said before Castle could reply. There was real venom in that statement. "You know how you treat women. There's nothing here for me."

"Slow down, slow down", Castle said. "First, you have a bunch of other people in that cell to think about, plus your Minutemen buddies. Second", her eyes narrowed and she stared straight at Nate. "What's the thing you want to go back in time for? Usually when people talk about something like that, it's for a person that died. Is that it? Someone died?"

The world. The world died. Both the Earth and his world. "A lot of people died. Don't worry, that one isn't your fault."

Their 'host' smirked. "Well isn't that a shame. Maybe I could have offered you revenge instead."

There it was again. She really doesn't think anything of the people under her. Beyond what they can get her.

"It's alright", Castle said, pushing herself away from the table, "we've still got time. Damon isn't here yet and the next event isn't until tomorrow. I think the best course of action would be to go back to your cell and think about it a bit. Talk it over." She motioned around them. "There are a few thousand people here who might be able to provide some incentive. You know, we can do a lot of damage with a few thousand angry guns."

Nate nodded. "True. Or one well-placed angry gun."

"HA! I like you." She walked around the table until he was standing beside the ex-soldier. "A lot better have tried."

"I doubt it." Nate wasn't Damon. He knew he was a good soldier, though. And he knew he was better than this jackass. "I guess we'll just have to see."

"Maybe. Unfortunately for you, I'm already holding all the cards. I'll start killing your friends if you want to play hardball. I only need you two."

Brenda barked a laugh. "You really don't know who you're dealing with, do you? Us or Damon."

Castle smiled again. It was cold and clinical. Something Nate had seen before that sent a shiver down his spine. The way her lips pulled a little too wide on her hard weathered and scarred face, how it didn't reach a pair of eyes that burned. It was like the expression was being put on by someone who wasn't quite sure how a smile worked. It was… inhuman.

"Like you said", she replied quietly. "We'll see."

With that, she broke eye contact with the ex-soldier and stalked to the door. "Make sure they're well fed", Castle said to the guards as she walked out.

There wasn't a doubt in Nate's mind that was for good behavior. As he and Brenda were led back out of the building, he knew that meant they were in for it tomorrow.

Part of him wanted Damon to stay away. To forget about them. To stay on track.

A much larger part of him wanted Damon to hurry his ass up and get there. The SPARTAN was a bulwark, more so here than normal. If the Raiders have him, they'll focus on them less.

And Nate hated himself for thinking that. The kid didn't deserve whatever Castle had planned for him. He wasn't a shield for Nate to hide behind. No. Damon would be here at some point. They can't leave this up to him. They need to work on a way to get themselves out so they're ready for whenever the cavalry shows up.

"We gotta be careful", Brenda whispered once they were back outside and the ambient sounds were enough to keep them from being overheard. "We still don't know how they figured this out."

He nodded. "I can vouch for Trent and we both know Able, Alex, and Julian are clean."

"Vincent, Blake, and Laura too", Brenda replied. "I… I don't wanna think about the others being plants but I don't know them as well." She shot him a grim smile. "Guess that's one drawback about growing as much as we have."

That's right. Vincent. He seemed like a good guy. First person to welcome him back to Sanctuary. His home in the distant past.

They got just as many glares as they had the first time around. Nate was a little more uncomfortable on the way back. Not because the Raiders were more threatening. It was because he knew the game they were playing now. He knew what Castle's objective was. There was comfort knowing, no matter what he did, he wouldn't achieve it.

That just meant there was a bullet waiting for him at the end of this if they weren't able to get out.

"Which means we need to play favorites without looking like we're playing favorites."

"That's gonna be hard when we're all in the same cell."

Nate nodded again. "One step at a time."

"Okay, so what step do we take first?"

"Well", the ex-soldier said as he studied the outside of the building they were being held in. "I think that would be to figure out how the…" he took a quick count. "... eight of us can talk discreetly."

It would be hard but necessary. And…

"And we need to still keep conversations going with everyone to at least make it look like we're planning with everyone involved. They'll get suspicious if we don't."

Brenda nodded. "Able and Vincent have been a lot more involved in training the teams at Sanctuary. It'll be good to ask them who they think we can trust too."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Yeah. Sure." The young woman huffed. "If that's what you wanna call a 'plan'."

Nate smiled at her. "Hey, I was Army. Most of our 'plans' were "go here, shoot that". This is top-level stuff we're working with here."

Brenda laughed. "I guess I'll listen to the guy with 250 years of experience."

"Like you should."

While they were bantering, there was a sickly pallor to it. They both knew they were in deep. Whether or not they had outside help coming…

This was bad.

They reached their accommodations and stopped talking.

Inside was just as cramped and cold as it had been before. Not that it would change in the hour they were gone. Especially now that it was creeping into the evening.

What a day…

And things were just getting started.

The others were still waiting in the cell, like they'd be anywhere else.

Unlike last time, they didn't bombard them with questions as soon as the door was shut. There wasn't any new or useful information he could give them anyway. They all knew they were there because of Damon. They all knew each of their lives was hanging on by a thread. They all knew the Raiders had something planned for them. Maybe more 'events' like Nate's bare-knuckle brawl earlier.

Hell, Castle practically said that's what they had planned.

"Make sure they're well fed."

No doubt that was to make sure they had enough energy to participate in whatever the Raiders felt like that day.

What they need to figure out is how the hell they'd get out of there.

What Nate wanted to figure out was how Castle planned to try swaying Damon to their side. If he thought the SPARTAN was the same sort of psychopath he was, what would that even look like?

He didn't know. But that might be a useful piece of information. If they can figure it out.

A/N: So yes, we're riding shotgun with Nate. Part of me wanted to do the normal thing, leave their fate in suspense for a while. A much larger part of me felt like that's a cheap way to build tension. I'd rather do that in other ways. Castle is a character who has been mentioned a few times before this, but she's someone I really want to be a good character. She's crazy, power hungry, and conniving. This is gonna get interesting. I'll see everyone next time for our 3 year anniversary!

Next chapter: 9/29, Obstacles