Fallout 4: Sam

by Casilcas1990

"My eyes widened as I stared at him, an odd feeling coming over me. His coat waved behind him, standing there in that pose… he looked like one of those superheroes from the comics or maybe a knight from the old books Daisy would read to me. The ones who defeat the bad guys and rescue the princesses. A knight in bloody armor." (OC/Hancock) Full summary on first page.

12. Chapter Eleven

~(:(Chapter Eleven):)~

"It's a what?" Mary Jo asked, a bewildered look on her dirt-smudged face.

I was at Oberland Station, the two women sitting at the worn picnic table across from me as the afternoon sun beat down on us. My latest project was finally done, the boxy metal appliance placed proudly on the table. I'd even given it a fresh coat of paint, the outer casing a light blue that almost matched its original color.

"Food dehydrator," I repeated, patting the top of the machine.

Valerie frowned, the dark skin around her mouth pulling down. "And you want us to test it out for you," she stated dryly.

I nodded, offering the settlers a bright smile. I had stopped by to drop off some supplies and return their pot—having finished the last of M.J.'s stew a couple days ago—but really it was just an excuse to persuade them in trying out the dehydrator.

"Why don't you test it?" Mary Jo asked. Between the two of them, she was more soft-spoken and cheery whereas Val was more jaded and not afraid to speak her mind. Their personalities were almost opposites and yet they remained good friends. Sisters, they declared, though they looked nothing alike.

"Because my cooking sucks," I sighed. "The food should at least be edible to begin with, otherwise we won't know if the machine makes it taste like crap or if it's just my bad cooking."

Val rubbed the back of her neck, skeptically eyeing the device. "I don't know, Sammy…"

"Oh, come on," I huffed, shifting to kneel on the bench. "Look, it's easy. You make something with a lot of moisture in it, like your stew, pour it in this compartment and turn it on."

I leaned over the table to show them, pulling out the tray and toggling the power switch.

"After a while, all that should be left is powder and dried bits. Then you scoop it up, put it in one of those tins and it will stay good for months," I said, gesturing to the empty coffee tins I had also brought with me. "When you get hungry, just add hot water and bam, like InstaMash."

M.J. hummed, her expression turning thoughtful. "Months, huh?"

"As long as it stays dry, yeah." I sat back on the bench, using my most convincing voice as if I were a sales rep. "Think about it. The next time you go hunting, you can just cook all of it up and dehydrate it. That way, you won't have to worry about food going bad before you can eat it."

The two women looked at each other, silently debating, then Mary Jo gave a nod, an eager smile stretching her lips. Val puffed out a sigh, turning back to me.

"Ok, fine, we'll give it a try," she grumbled, her gaze narrowing. "But if we end up wasting a bunch of food—"

"I'll bring you a whole radstag to make up for it," I promised happily.

Valerie's glare softened at the prospect of free meat and she nodded in agreement. "Deal."

I stayed a little while longer to look over their generator, making sure the coolant levels were still acceptable, then made my way back to the dam. I followed the train tracks south, keeping a casual eye on the woods to either side of me. My pace was brisk as I rested one hand on Meg at my hip, the other gripping the strap to my rifle and pack, which was now stuffed with an assortment of vegetables and a new loaf of bread. Not many traveled this way so I wasn't too worried about running into someone but there were still yao guai and wild dogs to watch out for.

Taking the dirt path through the trees, I thought about what I was going to do once I got to the dam. I had four days until my trip to Goodneighbor having pushed it back a week, saying I needed more time. It wasn't exactly a lie, I did need more time; time to brood and figure things out, especially after the disaster with Nate, or Lauren. I still felt guilty about the whole thing but him giving me his name, like some sort of shared secret between us, made it not so bad.

The man himself didn't seem bothered at all and even offered to travel together to Diamond City after I mentioned wanting to do some trading there. I had declined, making a lame excuse and going on my own the next day. I didn't even enter the city as there were several trade caravans camping just outside the stadium walls in the fairly protected courtyard, which suited me just fine. If I could avoid dealing with the Diamond City guards then I wasn't going to complain.

I hustled down the short hill and onto the dam's walkway, readjusting my pack. I suppose I could start boxing up the supplies and get them ready for transport. I could also hail Jack and tell him I was good to head over tonight—it's not like I had to wait for a specific day—but I didn't want to. I didn't want to face Hancock just yet and even though I completely understood why Nate turned me down, I couldn't help but feel a little depressed. It was the second time in a row, being rejected, and if this was the last step in becoming an adult then I was two-for-zero. Not very encouraging, to say the least.

Well, maybe third time's the charm as they say, I thought then immediately tossed it out. Yeah, right. Twice was enough and they were both horrible experiences; I wasn't eager to find out how much worse the third rejection would be. I'll just have to think of a different way to get stronger—

My train of thought halted as I noticed what was waiting for me by the dam's office, a sight that was starting to become irritatingly familiar. Red was standing in the shade of the office, his arms crossed as he watched me approach. Cal was with him this time, the lanky man leaning by the door with one leg bent and braced against the wall.

I huffed out a frustrated sigh, not sure if I was ready to work with the ex-Gunners again. Although, I couldn't deny the last time had definitely paid off. There was still plenty of gear I could use for trade, enough that I wouldn't have to scavenge for a good while.

"You really need to stop showing up like this," I muttered, coming to stand a few feet away from the men. "You're going to attract attention."

Red smirked at my complaining, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Hello to you, too," he drawled.

He was giving me that roguish grin again and it brought a small flutter to my stomach despite my despondent mood. My mouth pressed into a firm line. The man had terrible timing, usually appearing when I'm all emotional and most susceptible to his charms. Unfortunately, being aware of this didn't make the inconvenient feelings go away.

"Attract attention," Cal scoffed, his tone patronizing. "To what, a leaky old dam? Who'd wanna go poking around this dump?"

My lip curled into a snarl as I bristled. "It's not leaky! It's—"

I stopped, catching the smug look on the lieutenant's face, as if he were pleased with himself for riling me up. A "shit-stirrer," as Daisy would call him. What an ass, I thought, taking a breath to calm down and turning my attention back to the commander.

"What do you want?" I grumbled.

"Straight to the point, huh?" Red chuckled. I crossed my arms, mimicking his pose as I narrowed my gaze at him.

"We're ready to hit the first target, a satellite station up north," he said, his smirk dimming. "We take it out, it will be a major loss to the Gunners."

"What's so special about the station?" I asked, my glare fading in confusion. I didn't recall seeing a satellite station during my scavenging, but I haven't explored all of the north.

"Before we left, there was talk about establishing a main command post there," Red explained. "As things are now, the Gunners pretty much dominate everything south of the river, but if they get this satellite working and set up communications—"

"They'll have run of the whole damn Commonwealth," Cal finished with a scowl. The commander nodded in agreement before continuing.

"We scouted the place yesterday and the Gunners have already moved in. We're going to hit them tonight and disable the satellite in a way they won't be able to fix." Red paused, his eyes looking me over with that calculating stare. "The station is a fair distance away so we'll need to leave soon."

In other words, I needed to decide if I was going with them and I needed to do it now.

"Where is it?" I asked, stalling for time but also curious.

"Satellite Station Olivia," the commander replied. "About fourteen miles directly north of here."

I lifted my pip-boy, flicking to the map. So that was why I don't remember seeing it, I'd never been that far—oh, no, I thought, my blood running cold. The realization hit me at the same time I noted the station's location. I have been that far north when I visited Sanctuary, and the station was less than four miles away.

Dread pooled in the pit of my stomach. It was too close. If the Gunners set up a permanent post there it wouldn't be long before they took notice of the new settlement and I highly doubted the mercenaries would leave them in peace. It would be Quincy all over again. Marcy, Jun, Mama Murphy, Sturges—they already lost everything to the Gunners once, they might not survive a second time.

Red shifted in place, his tone casual. "So, are you in or—"

"I'm in."

The words came immediately, the decision final in my mind. Everything I was anxious about didn't seem so important anymore. This wasn't about killing someone to take what they had, this was about protecting people that deserved being protected. And it was Nate's home, one of the only remaining things he had from before the bombs. I wasn't going to let the Gunners destroy Sanctuary like they did Quincy, not if I could stop it.

"That was easy," Cal snorted, pushing off the wall to stand. "Not afraid of your old man finding out anymore?"

The mention of Jack made me nervous and slightly guilty but it wasn't enough to change my mind; this was too important to worry about the old ghoul's disapproval. My eyes snapped to Red, choosing to ignore the lieutenant's taunting. The commander was frowning at me, probably wondering why I suddenly agreed to join them. He didn't need to know and I wasn't going to tell him if I didn't have to.

"You wanted me on your team, right?" I retorted, returning his frown. "Well, you got me. Just… give me a minute."

I walked around them towards the office door, pushing it open and striding inside. It was dark, the lights intentionally disconnected, so I used the one on my pip-boy to guide the way. There wasn't much of interest in the room, just some bent and broken filing cabinets, a ratty loveseat that was missing a cushion, the empty desk with a smashed up terminal and random papers and trash scattered all over the floor. It looked like any other abandoned place in the Wastes, and that was the point.

There was a shuffling behind me and the door slammed shut. I jumped at the loud sound and whirled around, seeing the ex-Gunners crowding by the exit. The small office felt even smaller, especially with Red taking up so much space, his tall frame barely clearing the doorway.

"Wouldn't want to attract attention," Red smirked, throwing my words back at me.

I grimaced, shifting awkwardly. I didn't like the idea of them invading my home and I didn't know them well enough to trust they wouldn't just decide to take the dam for themselves once they saw the inside. Red seemed like a decent guy and he went through a lot of trouble trying to convince me to join his team… I guess it wouldn't make much sense for him to suddenly change his mind, not after all that effort. And they already knew where I lived. If they really wanted inside, there wasn't much I could do to stop them.

"Ugh, fine," I groaned, making my way around the desk.

"If you don't want anyone barging in, then why don't you lock the door?" Cal sneered as he eyed the trashed office. I snorted, kicking the empty boxes hiding the entrance out of the way.

"Because locked doors are suspicious." I shrugged off my pack and knelt in front of the metal hatch. "Besides, this is the only door that matters and it can't be picked."

I purposely situated the pack to hide my hand as I put in the six digit code, the locking mechanism clicking dully as the latch released. Descending the ladder, I snatched my pack on the way down and dropped the last foot, stepping towards the stairs to give the men room. Red came down first, his eyes blinking to adjust to the florescent lighting. Unlike the top office, the rest of the dam was brightly illuminated and well-kept with not a single piece of trash on the floor—well, unless you counted the bits of scrap and half-finished projects lying around.

"Where's the rest of your team?" I asked, slinging my pack onto one shoulder.

"Waiting for us back at the Federal Ration Stockpile," the commander said easily, glancing through the open door to the radio room. "It's a military bunker not far from here."

I had a strong urge to shut the door and hide it from his prying eyes but I resisted. It wasn't like he could somehow learn important information just by looking at the radio. I had never written anything on paper, all the frequencies, locations and callsigns recorded on my pip-boy instead.

"I know of it," I stated, watching as Cal closed and relocked the hatch on his way down. "Isn't a big raider gang posted up there?"

"Not anymore," the lieutenant smirked, turning to face us. The florescent lights brought out the subtle green tint to his eyes, something I hadn't notice before. His head was shaved on the sides, the dark blonde hair longer on top and styled over to the left, and his facial features were sharp and angular. If he didn't have that stupid scowl on his face most of the time, he could be considered good-looking—even with the crooked nose.

"You'll see it soon enough." Red's gaze returned to me, his voice lilting in humor. "So, you going to give us the tour?"

Scoffing, I turned towards the staircase and hustled down the steps, refusing to look and see if the ex-Gunners were following.

"Holliday!" I called as I reached the workshop floor. The blue Mr. Handy was working on his own project, a new set of metal shelves for my ever-expanding collection of scrap, using his laser to weld the frame. He stopped at my call, coming to hover before me.

"Welcome back, miss Sammy," Holliday greeted.

I gave him a smile, nodding my head to indicate behind me. "We got company."

"Good company or bad company?" the bot drawled, his visual sensors focusing on the ex-Gunners.

Looking over my shoulder, I saw them taking in the shop. Red noticed the pile of loot from the USS Riptide, the corner of his mouth quirking. Cal's face was slack with surprise, his eyes roving over the rows of standing shelves, crates and bins packed full of anything remotely useful. His expression brightened as he spotted my collection of manuals, walking over to inspect them.

"Shit, it's like a tinkerer's wet dream in here," he muttered almost begrudgingly while gazing at the books with appreciation.

Holliday wavered in place with something like a growl sounding through his audio regulator. "Reckon that would be the bad kind."

I sighed, turning back to the bot.

"Look, I'm heading out for a bit. I'll be gone for a day, no more than two. If J—Ghost calls, tell him I went to the game to meet some friends," I said, using the code for 'trading in Diamond City.'

"And where will you actually be wanderin'?"

I paused, debating on how much I should tell my companion. My reasons for joining Red didn't change the fact that what we were about to do was dangerous. We weren't picking a fight with raiders this time, we were going against Gunners—people that were better trained, better armed and had better aim than the average raider. Red didn't say how many were at the station, but if the location was as important to the Gunners as he said then there would be at least a full squad, maybe two. They might even have their own sniper.

I looked to the commander again, squinting at the neutral expression on his face. If something happened to me, I wasn't sure Red would make the effort to find Jack and tell him. Holliday should at least know where to send the old ghoul to get answers. I lifted my pip-boy, finding the Federal Ration Stockpile on the map.

"Delta-one-oh-eight," I told the bot, reading off the designation. My mouth flattened as I realized it was only six miles from the dam. "If I'm not back in three days, you let Ghost know."

Holliday grunted, his motorized limbs rotating to bring the sawblade to the front. He moved around me, gliding over to confront the commander.

"Listen here, partner," he growled, brandishing his saw threateningly. "You best be keepin' the little missy above snakes while you're on the shoot, or her pa ain't the only one you'll have to worry about."

The disgruntled bot hovered away without waiting for a reply, going back to his project. I smiled fondly after him, his concern for my safety putting a warm feeling in my chest. I knew some would say he was just a robot but Holliday was more than that to me. He was my friend and my roommate—he made the dam feel like a home instead of just a safehouse and I spent more time with the bot than I did with Jack or anyone else.

"Above snakes?" Cal repeated, his brows pinched as he looked up from the manual in his hands.

"Alive, you saphead!" Holliday snapped from across the workshop.

"Could've just said that, then," the man grumbled under his breath, shooting the bot a sour look.

Red chuckled at the lieutenant, humor crinkling his eyes. "Seems like you have a loyal friend," he mused to me.

I hummed in agreement. My smile fell as I narrowed my gaze on the precious book Cal still held.

"Put that back," I ordered dryly, turning towards the stairs down to the commons. I heard a scoff then two sets of footsteps following leisurely behind.

"How many levels are in this place?" came Cal's voice.

"This is the last one."

At the bottom of the staircase, I made a beeline for the kitchen, swinging my pack onto the island block. Taking out the sack of food, I stowed the new loaf of bread in the bread box and the vegetables in the fridge. I wasn't sure what I was going to do with them. The only way I knew how to cook veggies without making an inedible disaster was by boiling them in water, but plain, boiled vegetables weren't very appetizing to begin with. I guess I could bring them to Daisy and see if she could make something.

"So, what changed?" Red asked, having followed me into the kitchen.

He was sitting at the island in the same spot Nate had and I couldn't help but compare the two men. They were both leaders and had similar temperaments—patient, determined, and level-headed. In fact, the more I thought about it the more I realized they had a lot in common. It was odd, how I had taken to Nate so quickly but was still hesitant to trust Red, almost stubbornly so.

"What do you mean?" I replied, though I knew exactly what he was talking about. I had hoped he would be happy I finally accepted his offer and just let the 'why' slide, but I guess not.

"You've been reluctant to join us from the beginning," the commander stated, his brow raised. "Now, you're suddenly all for it?"

I leaned back against the counter, crossing my arms in a relaxed pose as I faced him.

"A satellite station would have a lot of high-tech machinery," I said offhandedly, trying to keep my tone casual. "I'm always looking for good scrap."

Red blinked at me, a blank look smoothing out his brow, then he barked out a laugh. The sound of it was nice, deep and cheery as it echoed around the kitchen. It brought another flutter to my stomach and I frowned.

"Christ, you're a terrible liar," he grinned, calling me out.

"Does it really matter?" I grumbled petulantly, not liking how easily he could read me. Although, I have never been that good at lying.

The commander's smile faded, his expression going serious. Those dark eyes studied me, his hand coming up to rub his scar.

"It does," he sighed, giving me a pointed look. "A team is only as effective as its leader, and I can't effectively lead if I don't know my team. Things like their capabilities, limitations and what motivates them…"

He paused expectantly, waiting for my answer and my frown deepened. I had a feeling Red wasn't going to drop the issue and I really didn't want to test that patience of his. He'd been fairly tolerant of my stubbornness up to this point, but what would he do if I outright refused to answer?

"You agreed after you saw Olivia on the map," he prompted. "Is there something special about that location?"

My shoulders tensed and it didn't go unnoticed. Dammit, I thought. He didn't need to know everything, just something that sounded true enough.

"Some friends of mine live close by," I allowed, that sense of dread returning. "They're just settlers, they can't fight off Gunners."

"You're protecting them," he reflected absently, his eyes lighting with surprise. "Just like you did at the barge."

His gaze focused in understanding, as if a piece of some puzzle had fallen into place, and gave me a warm smile. It was the same smile Nate had given me when we were scavenging in Concord and those random flutters turned into erratic butterflies, churning through my body and heating my skin.

"I can work with that," the commander declared, his smile shifting to an amused grin.

I huffed in exasperation, more irritated at myself than him. Red seemed to have a talent for getting under my skin and I wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because he was so persistent in getting me on his team, or maybe it was just his stupidly handsome face. Whatever it was, I didn't like it—or didn't want to like it. He was probably doing it on purpose just to mess with me, anyway, like he did when he was trying to convince me to go with them to the barge. Although, I already agreed to join them tonight, so that didn't make much sense.

Snatching my pack off the counter, I decided to ignore the issue for now and focus on getting ready. Walking into the living area, Cal was lounging on the couch, laying on his back with his hands behind his head and one leg hanging over the armrest. He looked way too comfortable in my home and it bothered me.

"No, please, make yourself at home," I quipped dryly.

The lieutenant's mouth curled in a smug smirk. He lifted his head to say something but stopped suddenly, his eyes darting to the ceiling.

"What the hell is that?" he asked. I looked towards the ceiling but didn't see anything odd.

"What?" I frowned, confused.

"That noise," Cal clarified, his tone incredulous. "You don't hear it?"

Tilting my head, I tried to listen for whatever he was talking about. All I could hear was a low humming that was coming from the air vents above.

"Oh, that's just the fans from the central heating system kicking on."

The ex-Gunner was quiet for a moment, then he swung his legs to the floor, sitting up with a scowl.

"Now wait just a damn minute," he growled, glaring between me and his commander who was now leaning against the wall by the kitchen. "You telling me I've been living in a cold, moldy shithole for the last month while you've been sitting pretty, like a princess in a fucking castle, with central heating?"

It was my turn to smirk, my own smug grin stretching my face. I was still miffed about the "leaky dam" comment and couldn't help but brag a little.

"And a fully-functional kitchen with a working stove and fridge," I chirped, counting off my fingers. "And plumbing with running water, a washing machine, flushable toilet, a shower with hot water—"

"Hot shower?" Cal interrupted. A grimace replaced his scowl and he glanced at Red with an almost pleading look. "How much time do we got?"

The commander gave a non-committal shrug and I squinted at him. Earlier, he implied we were on a time constraint since the satellite station was so far away, but now he was acting like it didn't matter. Maybe he'd been trying to force my decision by pretending we were short on time.

Red caught my gaze and sent me a sly wink, confirming my suspicions. I let out a groaning sigh, turning back to Cal.

"Down the hall, first door on the left," I grumbled, pointing towards the hallway.

The lieutenant jumped up with a genuine smile, hustling to the locker room without another word. I stared after him, taking a moment to think. Even though I was resolved in my choice to join the ex-Gunners, that didn't mean I was eager. In fact, I would be lying if I said I wasn't a bit scared, having never done something like this before.

"You can change your mind, you know," came Red's voice, softened by some emotion I couldn't name. I glanced at him but his face didn't tell me much, sliding into that neutral look again.

He was giving me the chance to reconsider, which was nice but ultimately pointless. It wasn't about me, it was about protecting the people of Sanctuary. It didn't matter if I was scared or if I even wanted to—there was too much to lose if I didn't. I was going to do this. Period.

"No," I said firmly, steadily meeting the commander's eyes. "No, I can't."

I headed towards my room to pack up my gear, already mentally listing all the things I should bring including extra supplies. It was going to be a long night.

~0~

"Can't believe you got me up this fucking tree," Cal grumbled quietly, his hand gripped around my belt. He was perched on a branch slightly lower than mine with his back against the oak's wide trunk.

I huffed out a heavy sigh, still irritated by Red's order. He had insisted I be paired with someone even though I would be pretty far removed from the upcoming fight and so would my partner, meaning they would be down a gun. I had said as much but the commander was firm in his decision. "I'm not leaving you alone again," were his exact words. The statement brought a warm feeling to my chest but I still didn't understand why it had to be Cal.

"There wasn't a good angle from the ground," I mumbled back, shifting in my slightly uncomfortable position. "I'm not going to be much use as a sniper if I don't have a clear shot."

We were camped in a giant oak tree about ten feet up. I was stretched out on my stomach, my legs wrapped around the base of the sturdy limb and Mark's barrel resting on a protruding branch. I picked the massive tree because it was the only one with limbs thick enough to bear our weight, even being dead wood.

"Whatever you say, princess," the lieutenant retorted, the smirk heard through his voice.

I huffed again in annoyance but stayed quiet, determined to ignore him. After seeing the dam, Cal had taken to calling me 'princess.' It was a little better than 'brat' but not by much.

Gazing through the scope, I surveyed the target location. Satellite Station Olivia sat at the top of an incline, about one hundred yards from our position. It appeared to be a relatively small outpost with the large satellite dish raised prominently above the tree line and a single building that led deeper into the bunker. How big it was below ground was anyone's guess. There was also a metal office situated high up the satellite's support structure—probably once used for maintenance—with a catwalk and accessible via the metal staircase. A perfect spot for a sniper to hide.

Just as I thought, a figure walked out of the office to lean against the railing, looking out over the hill. There was a rifle across their back, the barrel long and protruding far above their head. A sniper rifle.

"Sniper on the catwalk," Cal mumbled, observing through the detached scope in his hand.

"Affirmative." I scanned the rest of the area, spotting two more figures. One was walking the perimeter of the station outfitted in the usual Gunner armor, a laser rifle in their hands, and the other was just visible through the window of the bunker's entrance. Only three left to guard the surface but there would be more inside.

The plan was to draw them out, get them above ground and out in the open, making it easier to pick them off. If they decided to dig in it would be much harder to clear the bunker, especially since we didn't know the layout or how many Gunners were actually—

The night suddenly burst into a bright flash of orange, intense flames launching into the sky from down the hill and illuminating the sparce forest. The timed explosion, curtesy of Andy, was so strong I could feel the tremors through the oak's limb against my body and we were yards away. They definitely felt it in the bunker.

"Showtime," the lieutenant cracked, his hold on my belt tightening. "You're up, princess."

The Gunners' attention turned to the explosion, just as planned, and the one inside the building came out with his gun drawn. He met up with the one walking the perimeter, and the sniper on the catwalk called out to them, gesturing to the still-burning flames. He must have given them an order because the two on the ground cautiously made their way down the hill, the man keeping watch through the scope of his rifle.

I trained my own scope on the sniper, aiming for his head. A trickle of unease caused my breath to stutter but I pushed it away. I could debate the morality of the situation later but right now I needed to focus. This wasn't about me anymore, it was about protecting Sanctuary and I couldn't afford to be indecisive.

"It's just like shooting an animal," MacCready's voice echoed. No, it really wasn't, but in this moment I needed it to be. Just an animal, I thought. Just a target.

My next breath was steady as it filled my lungs. I exhaled slowly, feeling my body settle on the branch and go still, Mark pressed tightly to my shoulder and my finger curled around the trigger. I forced every intrusive thought out of my mind, narrowing all my attention to the image behind the crosshairs.

The target shifted, tipping his head up and my finger squeezed.

The familiar recoil rammed my shoulder but the boom was muffled by the newly acquired silencer, a gift from Leah. The shot hit its mark, the target jerking to the side and collapsing to the catwalk. The rifle he'd been holding slipped from his grip and banged against the rail on its way down. I couldn't hear the noise from so far away but I was betting the Gunners did.

I racked the bolt and adjusted my aim just in time to see them turn and head back up the hill. I picked the one taking lead, tracking the movement for a couple of seconds then squeezed the trigger. The target fell to the ground, the body rolling down the hill. The other one stumbled out of the way then darted for cover behind a tree. Before I could take aim again a silent flash came from the dark, discharge from a laser gun, and the second Gunner went down.

The rest of our team wasted no time, swarming the station to get into the next position. Their black clothing made it seem like they just phased into existence, Red and Leah from the northern tree line and Pete and Andy from the south hill. They chose spots that gave them some cover and kept them hidden from the bunker's entrance. Now, it was a waiting game.

With Mark's scope locked onto the bunker I didn't have to wait long, noting movement inside the dimly lit building. I shifted restlessly on the branch, feeling the pull of Cal's hold.

"Easy," he said behind me. "Wait for them to clear the door."

I counted the Gunners as they came out to investigate, their postures tight and on alert. Eight of them filled the yard, slowly spreading out to search the area and at least one stayed in the building, their profile in the window.

One was coming around the satellite base towards the stairs, their path taking them right past where Leah was crouched. If the Gunner turned his head even an inch he would see her. I was just about to take him out when Pete broke cover, Veronika spraying bullets and drawing attention. Leah hit the Gunner close to her with a well-aimed shot from her laser pistol, already moving on to the next.

"Cut 'em off, cut 'em off," Cal ordered. "Don't let them back inside."

I shifted my aim back to the bunker entrance. One made it through the door, stumbling inside with a hand pressed to his arm. Another dashed in but I timed my shot, the .50cal hitting her in the back right between the shoulders. The body went down in the doorway.

The seconds blended together as gunfire echoed. I kept my scope trained on the building, making sure no one else got inside. That figure appeared in the window again, the shape of their head peaking from the side.

I zeroed in on it, the crosshairs swaying slightly. It was a small target but not impossible. I exhaled, my body going still, finger squeezing—

"Cease fire."

My hand immediately relaxed at the command, gasping in a quick breath of air.

"What?" I asked, glancing at Cal in confusion. Why was he telling me to stop?

"Red's calling for a ceasefire," the lieutenant nodded through his scope.

I turned back, looking through my own scope. The rest of our team was standing in a semicircle around the bunker entrance, still on guard with guns at the ready. Their backs were to us and Red's arm was raised up with his hand clenched into a fist. I suddenly noticed the night was quiet again. It seemed the fight was over.

"I didn't even see…" I had been so focused on the next target I completely missed Red's order.

"That's why you got me here, princess," Cal smirked, giving my belt a small tug.

The figure in the window moved and a body filled the doorway with their hands up. It was a man, that much I could tell, wearing a full suit of combat armor, the large Gunner's symbol taking up the entire chest plate.

"Shit," my companion cursed. "That's O'Malley."

I blinked, not missing the aggravated note in his voice. "Is that bad?"

"Depends," Cal scoffed quietly. "O'Malley was Red's commander when he was still a lieutenant. The guy is like a father to him."

I considered that statement, comparing my own relationship with Jack. If this O'Malley was really like a father to Red, then maybe he would join us.

The two men were talking, their postures relaxing. After a couple of minutes, Red made another hand sign, pointing two fingers in the air with a circular motion. The signal to regroup.

"C'mon," Cal grunted.

We carefully descended the tree, scooping up our packs we had left at the base and made our way to the station. Cal took lead until we got to the chain-link fence around the perimeter, holding open a damaged section so I could slip through.

The commander and this O'Malley were still talking as we approached, their voices a quiet mumbling. Pete and Andy stood on either side of Red. Their guns were held loosely in their hands but the tension in their rigid shoulders told me they were still on edge. Leah was tending to the Gunner that had made it back into the building, her movements stiff and jerky as she bandaged the bullet wound in his upper arm. The man seemed unbothered by the rough treatment, leaning casually against the concrete wall of the bunker and even pursing his lips in a kiss at the petite woman. The action earned him a sharp tug as she tied off the wrappings and stepped away, his breath hissing in through a toothy grin. The only defining feature I could see was his hair. It was long, pulled back with a tie much like Andy's, and a blonde so pale it looked white in the low light.

I noted another Gunner that had survived the gunfight standing to the side of O'Malley. He looked young, his hands gripped tightly around his laser rifle and a deep scowl on his face, clearly not happy about the situation. I wasn't exactly happy either, this confrontation not being part of the plan, but I was relieved that all of our teammates were still alive.

Cal growled lowly under his breath as we joined the group, arms crossing over his chest. O'Malley glanced at him with disinterest.

"Calvin," the man greeted dryly. His voice had a severe quality to it and gravelly, like a smoker's.

"Dick," the lieutenant returned with his usual sneer.

O'Malley sniffed at the name then turned his eyes to me. The hair on the back of my neck stood to attention, a chilling tingle stiffening my spine. He was older—late forties, maybe early fifties—but definitely not feeble in any way. Even under the armor, I could tell his body was strong. Not as muscled as Red, nor as tall, but still stacked. His face was shaved with a square jaw, his chestnut-colored hair covered by a military cap that was going grey on the sides.

The man's posture screamed authority, kind of like Jack but with something harder, darker. Dangerous. Everything about him set off warning bells in my head and I immediately disliked him.

"You must be the sniper," he drawled, those cold eyes appraising me. "I don't recognize you."

Thank God for that, I thought, grateful the words didn't pass my lips. I had a bad habit of running my mouth whenever I felt defensive, something I tried very hard to control. Some things were harder than others, like when people talked shit about ghouls or when I was threatened. Just O'Malley's gaze on me felt threatening, putting me on guard.

Red gestured towards me, silently beckoning me to his side. I really didn't want to get any closer to the dangerous man but it was six against three. It was unlikely the Gunners would try anything being so outnumbered. Shrugging my pack to the ground I forced my legs to move, coming to stand next to the commander.

He touched my back lightly. "Sam, this is—"

"Richard O'Malley, Gunner major," the man interrupted, offering his right hand in greeting.

Fear made me hesitate, the warning bells in my head ringing louder at the thought of shaking his hand. The last thing I wanted to do was allow him to grab ahold of me but… this man was a father figure to Red, I should at least try to be polite. And the commander himself didn't seem worried. Actually, out of all of us, Red, O'Malley and the blonde Gunner were the only ones that appeared relaxed, as if this was just a friendly get-together and we weren't surrounded by dead bodies.

I must have hesitated too long because Red gave me a small push forwards.

"Sam," I said, my tone flat but my face somewhat pleasant as I took the offered hand. The major's grip was stiff, his skin calloused from years of training and handling a gun. I went to pull away but he held firm.

"Sam…" he trailed, indicating he wanted my last name.

I frowned, all pleasantness dropping. I didn't know why or how Jack left the Gunners but I do know that few ever leave on good terms. In fact, almost none do as it's supposed to be a life-long commitment. Something told me it was a bad idea to give him Jack's name.

I took a breath to say "it's just Sam" but O'Malley's grip tightened suddenly, squeezing my hand painfully. My body tensed, my jaw snapping shut and I glared at his decision to literally strongarm the answer from me. Someone cursed behind me, followed by a shuffling sound and a whispered "don't" but I couldn't take my eyes off the man who had me in a vice.

The major's face was completely passive except for the smug little tilt to his mouth as he squeezed harder, grinding my bones together. I grit my teeth against the pain, refusing to make a sound. One look into his stony gaze and I knew I should've listened to my gut. He had no problem breaking my hand to get what he wanted. My trigger hand.

"Shaw," I bit out, wishing the daggers I was throwing with my eyes were real.

O'Malley's cold stare shifted in surprise, his hold on me loosening. I took the opportunity to tear myself away, slipping from his grasp and stumbling back. My hand was aching and I could feel my face twist into a snarl as anger boiled to the surface, an attempt to cover up how much the Gunner major scared me.

My mouth opened to snap at him—probably something snarky and foolish—but a muscled arm came across my chest. Red eased me back and behind him, his large frame hiding me from view. He wasn't relaxed anymore, his broad back straining with tightly held aggression and his fists clenched. The blonde Gunner reacted to the change and his posture straightened as he leveled his gaze on Red.

Another arm fell over my shoulders, protectively drawing me against the side of a lean body. I glanced up at Cal and saw his green eyes darkening with anger. Andy stepped closer to my other side, the rifle in his hands held with his finger close to the trigger and that easy smirk gone from his face. Pete and Leah had moved back, positioning themselves so they had clear line-of-sight to the remaining Gunners, Pete looking more menacing than his usual jolly self and Leah glaring at the blonde.

The tension was so high, any little thing could set them off. Maybe they weren't going to join us after all. I'd prefer if they didn't.

"Shaw," O'Malley repeated calmly. "Interesting conscript you have there. Where did you find her?"

"She's not a conscript," Red said, ignoring the question. The commander's voice still had that quiet pitch but it deepened in warning. "I need your answer, major. Now."

There was a pause then O'Malley let out a sigh.

"Well shit, son," his voice rumbled. Compared to Red's it was almost too loud. "You do have a point. The Gunners are a far cry from what they used to be. You sure this is how you want to go about it?"

"It is," Red nodded.

The major gave a grunt. "Alright, we'll do it your way."

"You can't be serious," the third Gunner spoke up, outraged. Even though I wholeheartedly agreed—I didn't like the idea of working with O'Malley one bit—I cringed at his outburst. Now was not the time to argue.

"Major, they're deserters, traitors!" the young man continued. "You can't seriously be thinking—"

A shot echoed in the still night and I flinched, not prepared for the deafening sound. Cal's arm squeezed around my shoulders briefly in response. There was a thud as the Gunner's body fell to the ground, shot straight between the eyes. O'Malley lazily holstered his .44 and turned back to Red.

"I'll see what I can do on my end," the major said casually, like he didn't just kill one of his own men. "Where do you want to meet?"

"The Dugout Inn, one week from now," Red answered, his body relaxing again despite the display of violence. I frowned at his back, not understanding his reaction.

The two men shook hands, O'Malley clapping the commander on the shoulder before taking his leave. His gaze caught mine as he passed, those cold eyes flicking over my face as if to memorize it and then to Cal and Andy, noting their protective positions. I bristled at his stare, the residual anger making me brave—or maybe stupid—and I grabbed Mark's strap across my chest, bringing attention to the rifle in a subtle threat. A smile as harsh as his eyes flashed on the major's face before he turned away, continuing down the hill.

"Red," the blonde Gunner acknowledged as he made to follow O'Malley. Even though his tone was friendly the sneer on his face was not.

"Hoss," Red returned with just as much contempt.

"We'll have to catch up next time, love," Hoss crooned at Leah, his sneer morphing into a charming grin. His voice was smooth, almost lyrical, with a faint British accent. "I look forward to it."

"Don't hold your fucking breath," Leah scowled, her hand still resting over her laser pistol. "No wait, actually do."

The Gunner chuckled but didn't stop, walking down the hill and disappearing into the dark.

My body relaxed as soon as they were out of sight, the adrenaline of the tense situation wearing off and reminding me how tired I was. Walking the fourteen miles it took to get here was draining enough, now I was exhausted. Fortunately, Red had set a slower pace than last time so it was doable, but I hoped he wasn't planning on walking all the way back tonight.

"Assholes," Cal muttered, his arm falling away. I hummed in agreement, flexing my hand against the dull ache.

I didn't like the idea of working with the Gunner major and not just because he tried to break my trigger hand. The way he killed his own teammate without a second thought was… off. I had expected the young Gunner to be reprimanded for speaking out of turn but to be shot dead seemed too severe, as if O'Malley did it to make some kind of statement or prove a point. What that was I didn't know but it couldn't be good. The other Gunner, Hoss, wasn't much better; it was clear he wasn't well-liked. Leah especially was a bit hostile towards him and she must have her reasons. Also, not good.

At least they're gone, I thought, relieved. Whatever deal Red made, it looked like the two wouldn't be working with us directly, which was fine by me. I wasn't sure if I would continue to help Red and his team but I definitely wasn't if I had to be close to O'Malley.

A warm hand caught mine gently, lifting it. The commander stood before me, examining my abused hand and carefully pressing on it to test its mobility. Nothing was broken but it was still sore.

"So, what'd we miss?" Cal asked beside me.

"O'Malley agreed to be our eyes and ears on the inside," Red replied, his gaze focused on my hand. "He'll keep us updated on the Gunner's movements."

Andy shifted his feet. "Sure that's a good idea, boss?"

"It was too easy, yes?" Pete added, the Russian hefting Veronika to his shoulder.

"I've known him a long time. Once he decides to do something he does it. I trust him."

I stayed silent and couldn't help but compare Red to O'Malley. They had nothing in common, not that I could tell. If the man was like a father then how did they end up so different? The commander seemed fine with explaining his decisions—as opposed to killing someone for even questioning them—and he didn't have that dangerous presence about him. Not that I didn't think he could be dangerous. I knew better than that. Still, Red didn't set off the warning bells in my head, not like the major did. Compared to O'Malley he was a damn saint. It made me wonder why I was so wary of him to begin with.

Standing in the circle of ex-Gunners, I realized I wasn't bothered at all. With Cal to my left, Andy to my right and Red basically holding my hand, I felt… safe. Maybe I only felt that way because of what happened earlier. Or maybe I was just tired.

"What about the bastard?" Leah spat, arms crossed over her chest.

"Hoss is loyal to O'Malley," the commander smirked, his eyes still cast down. "He'll do whatever he's told to do."

No one voiced anymore complaints, content with Red's answers and trusting in his leadership. I wasn't so sure. With his large hand engulfing mine, I could admit I was starting to trust Red, but the major? No, definitely not. My instincts were telling me he was bad news and I wasn't going to ignore them again. I didn't feel it was my place to say anything about it, though, so I kept those thoughts to myself.

Red finally glanced up, taking in his team. "Clear the bunker, make sure there's no surprises waiting for us."

At his order, the ex-Gunners filed to the building, Pete stopping a moment to drag the body from the doorway. Red didn't move and I looked up at him. His dark eyes were steady on my face and he gave me a small smile.

"You did well tonight," he commended, his mouth flattening in concern. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," I mumbled, my skin beginning to heat.

He was still holding my hand, his thumb rubbing over my knuckles for no reason I could think of. Combined with his praise and that sympathetic tone I was getting all flustered again, my stomach doing nervous summersaults.

"I don't like him," I blurted, hoping my blush wasn't visible in the dim light. Red snorted softly.

"Of course, you don't." His voice was pensive as he muttered to himself. "Could've broke your fucking hand."

The man's eyes hardened as he looked back down. His anger was directed at his former commander but I wasn't so naive to believe it was because he hurt me. I doubted Red cared for me like that. More likely, he was thinking about being down a sniper if my trigger hand had been damaged. The thought was sobering and my blush faded. I pulled away from his hold, taking a step back.

"Don't worry, I can still shoot," I said, trying not to sound snappish.

Red blinked at me as he straightened, his brows pinched in a frown. "That's not what I was worried about."

My heart skipped a beat and I blinked back at him dumbly, the blush returning. What was he trying to say?

"Oh," I said awkwardly, at a loss for words.

The commander gazed at me for a moment, then a smile curved his mouth. It was warm, teasing, and left me more confused than I already was. He couldn't actually like me, could he?

"Come on," he grinned, those dark eyes glinting with amusement. "Let see if they left anything of value."

Red picked up my pack and slung it over his shoulder, turning to head for the bunker. I followed automatically, like I was in a daze. My mind was jumbled with too many questions, too many things to process. I couldn't tell if Red was messing with me. Even if he wasn't, it didn't matter—I already decided I wasn't going to do this a third time.

No, it didn't matter if he made my heart skip or my stomach flutter or my skin blush. I had been wrong twice before; it was better if I just ignored it.

And that was exactly what I was going to do.

A/N: Sorry for the late update :/ I was dealing with some medical issues (nothing life-threatening, just painfully inconvenient) and lost my motivation for a bit. I'm probably going to take some time to recover so I don't know how long it will take me to post the next chapter but I promise the story is not dead.

Finally, the antagonist makes an appearance! The military ranks bother me because, apparently, commander and major are actually above captain but I already set up Captain Wes as the leader of the Commonwealth Gunners, so I'm just going to ignore that little detail.