A/N: Salutations from this strange world of impossible occurrences (well... at least with respect to the fictional universes I'm cramming together here). Apologies in advanced, this chapter is nowhere near as long as I intended it to be. I'd written it a little while back and as I was going back through I decided I didn't like any of it and rewrote the whole thing over the course of the last few days. On the positive side it's pretty much all action, but I still have some writing to do before I can put out the rest. To make it up to you, I'm working on the next half(?) of this chapter and will publish it at the end of next week. As always, thank you all for your support and please make sure to let me know what you think of the story so far (especially this chapter, I kinda crash coursed the proofread so let me know if there are any mistakes). Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Finish What You Start

Who the hell announces their attack? I'd have to table the reminiscing for now.

My wandering had taken me back to the base of the hill; I hadn't seen anyone but it was possible they were hiding in the forest. As much as I wanted to clear the area, priority had to be securing the group. I jogged back to the safehouse where everyone had gathered.

"-good idea", Nate finished. He and Preston seemed to be butting heads over what to do.

"We don't know how many there are, or where they might be."

"How many, realistically, would this group be able to gather?"

"Most Raider bands aren't much larger than 40 or 50, hard to sustain more than that with how they tend to live." The Minuteman looked at me. "At least half of them died in Concord, so 25 on the high side."

Nate grimaced. "Shit."

25? That shouldn't be much trouble. The question was how I would keep these people alive while I dealt with the Raiders. If there were a significant number in the hills above, they would be the largest threat. I can deal with that as long as they're able to hold off whoever would be approaching from across the river until I'm done.

The ex-soldier shook his head. "Is there any chance we convince them to leave?"

Preston shot a glance at me. "Not after what he did to them."

"What ha-"

"We don't have time for this." I looked at Preston. "How long can you stall him?"

"Wha- why?"

"I need to clear the forest behind us; the longer you keep him talking, the less time you'll have to hold off whoever comes across the river before I can assist."

"Wait." Nate looked from me to Preston and back. "You're going to fight them? 25 bandits against the 10 of us?"

Those odds are a lot better than what I normally work with.

"We don't have a choice."

"I'M RUNNING OUT OF PATIENCE. YOU GOT ANOTHER 30 SECONDS."

"Spread out, two guns per house, stay in each other's line of sight, pick your shots and stay safe. Preston, I need you to stall him as long as you can, it's going to take me a few minutes to clear the forest."

"I-" the Minuteman cut off whatever he was about to say; if trends were anything to go by, it was some sort of objection. "Okay."

"When it goes hot, don't try anything stupid, get back here and wait."

"Right." He set off toward the front of the housing development. As he did, I broke off and headed up into the hills behind Sanctuary. I didn't have high hopes for this fight if these Raiders were from the same group as had attacked them in Concord; they wouldn't have much to offer in an engagement like this short of target practice. Oh well, might as well worry about keeping everyone alive then.

"What do you want?" Preston must have reached the front of the small 'town'.

"WHY DON'T YOU COME OUT? I'D LIKE TO SEE WHO I'M TALKING TO."

My path led me into the dense forest to the east of the Vault. While most of the trees were bare and looked dead, there were enough of them and accompanying, equally as sickly looking brush to create tight sightlines and make it easy to find good cover. As much as I wanted to take the initiative and make contact first, if there were any Raiders here they'd fire as soon as they saw me. I'd have to do a little passive recon.

"I'm not coming out with that many guns pointed at me."

I crouched behind a thicket of sickly looking trees and switched my HUD to NV and began scanning the hillside.

"I'LL HAVE TO INSIST."

It only took a few seconds to spot my first target: he was a smaller man dressed in the same mashup of leather and rusted steel plates. His attempt at sneaking through the forest was… laughable. It more or less consisted of him slowly walking, crouched, weaving between the tightly packed trees, staring at his feet trying to avoid any fallen sticks or the occasional group of leaves.

"You aren't sure what's going to happen if you attack. That's the only reason we're talking, so why don't we talk about what you want."

Two more were flanking him to the right at a half dozen meters employing the same sad attempts at stealth. Another three were trailing them. All of them were armed with the same, dilapidated 'Pipe Rifles' that seemed almost ubiquitous in this assbackwards world.

"AWFULLY BALLSY OF YOU TO MAKE DEMANDS WHEN YOU'RE SURROUNDED."

I let out an involuntary sigh. This was even more disappointing than I'd originally thought.

"I got a good set on me."

There were two more trailing far behind the first group- those two were different. They were both wearing something that actually looked like hard body armor. It was bulky and thick, but it seemed purpose built. Excitement wormed its way into the back of my head when I studied them a moment longer: one was cradling what appeared to be a large caliber bolt action rifle. The other had the same .308 rifle I'd scavenged off one in Concord.

A laugh. "I WANT TO DISCUSS YOUR LITTLE ARMORED FRIEND WHO MY SCOUTS SAID TOOK OUT MOST OF THE BOYS I SENT AFTER YOU."

The smaller rifle was fine, but that large caliber sniper rifle... that had me interested.

"What about him?"

I watched the group slowly pace forward for a few seconds.

"WHO IS HE?"

They weren't scanning their surroundings at all, did they think no one would come up here to head them off? How the hell are these people a threat to anyone?

"A good samaritan coming to the aid of some innocent people."

After another few seconds' searching, I didn't find anyone else in the vicinity.

"OH COME ON NOW 'MINUTEMAN' DON'T BULLSHIT ME. WHO IS HE?" The leader's voice hardened as he asked.

Might as well get this over with.

"What do you want with him?"

I slipped out from behind the small thicket of trees, skirting toward the Vault to get visual cover before I started circling behind them

"I WANT TO KNOW WHO HE IS, I WANT TO KNOW IF THERE'S ANYONE ELSE OUT HERE WITH HIM, AND I WANT TO KNOW WHERE HE CAME FROM."

Their commander isn't considering the possibility of someone being back here either. He has to know Preston is stalling him.

"He doesn't like talking about himself all that much. All I know is that he left the Brotherhood a few years ago."

I reached a small ravine, slid down into it, carefully avoiding the rock filled bottom, and began gliding toward the Raiders' rear guard.

A short pause. "DON'T LIE TO ME 'MINUTEMAN'. MY MEN TOLD ME HE DIDN'T LOOK LIKE ANYTHING THEY'D SEEN BEFORE."

Keep him talking. I was maybe 20 seconds from getting behind the small group of bandits

"Have they seen Paladins at work? I haven't. They haven't been in the Commonwealth before; any of your men been all the way down to the Capital Wastes?"

With their spacing, it would take 30 seconds to dispatch them if they didn't notice me.

"YOU'RE TRYING AWFULLY HARD TO SELL THAT PITCH 'MINUTEMAN'. IT'S MAKING ME NOT WANT TO BUY."

My legs worked silently to carry me toward my prey.

"That's your choice, I'm just giving you the facts. Why do you need to know who he is if you're just going to kill him anyways?"

In all likelihood, they'd see me, so to play it safe would add another 15 or 20 seconds to that time.

"WHY ARE YOU PROTECTING HIM?"

So worst case I'd have these Raiders out of the picture in about a minute and a half, another minute to sweep the rest of the hill and 30 seconds back to Sanctuary.

Preston barked a laugh. "Protecting him? If only pal."

Even civilians can manage that right? Against these pathetic excuses for fighters?

"What would you do with us if we did turn him over to you?"

Their footsteps were so loud I could almost tell each of their exact positions. 20 meters to go.

"HAVEN'T MADE UP MY MIND YET."

10 meters.

"That isn't encouraging."

I slowed to a stop, one was nearly directly over me.

"THAT ISN'T MY PROBLEM MINUTEMAN."

My hand slid my knife from its sheath and the muscles in my legs wound tight.

"It is if we decide to fight back."

Time slowed to a crawl as adrenaline teased its way into my bloodstream. I drove my legs into the ground and sprung out of the ravine directly behind the bandit wielding the large caliber rifle.

"IS THAT A THREAT?"

My knife flashed like lightning and embedded itself edge forward up to its hilt in his neck as I clamped my other hand over his mouth. A quick twitch and I ripped the knife out of the front of the Raider's neck, cleanly severing everything forward of his spine.

"It is."

I lowered the body to the ground as the fountain of blood splashed over my right arm and shoulder.

"I THINK WE'RE JUST ABOUT DONE HERE THEN."

That's fine. The other rear guard began turning toward the sound of his companion dying as I buried my knife into his left temple. Unfortunately, the guy must have had his finger on the trigger. As he fell, he reflexively pulled his rifle's trigger and the opening shot of this skirmish flew straight up into the air. I guess it's fitting the shot was fired because of the death throes of an incompetent, most likely drug addicted bandit.

The remaining Raiders spun in my direction as gunfire sounded down the hill. I slid back down into the ravine as bullets cracked by overhead. My shields would be able to shrug off small caliber rounds like those, but at this point putting my equipment in danger wasn't smart. I slipped the knife back in its sheath and snatched my pistol off its mag clamp.

I skirted the ravine a dozen meters before popping back up and dropping the two closest targets. Half down.

After repeating the same move once more, the final two Raiders turned and ran. I don't think so. I climbed from the ravine and put a round in the back of each man's head.

Once that group was finished, I did a quick scan of the immediate area before hurrying to the first corpse and liberated it of the bolt action rifle. I had to take a split second to appreciate my find: it was chambered in 12.7 MM with a heavy duty polymer stock and high powered scope. There were 5 rounds in the magazine and 10 more on the body. Not much, but unless I was fighting an APC, I don't think I'll need more.

Rifle slung over my shoulder, I began clearing the rest of the forest. Gunfire in the town picked up as I went and it sounded like the fighting was coming from deeper in the neighborhood. With how thick the area was with dead vegetation, it was another two minutes before I was sure there were no Raiders hiding close by.

As I reached the edge of the hill looking down into the town, it quickly became apparent Preston's estimation was off. I counted a dozen Raiders taking cover around the houses on the south side exchanging fire with the Minuteman's group. On top of that, there were at least 10 more still on the river's bank.

Best option here was a flank; if their basic strategies and inept tactics were anything to go by, their leader would be in that rear group. Circling behind them would let me remove him from the picture and make sure I wiped the rest of the force out.

I hurried to the southeast edge of the hill, directly above the river. After a quick check to make sure my prey was still in the same spot, I slipped down the incline and waded into the water.

The groups' gunfire was a constant metronome, each shot telling me to get a move on. I kept my head just above the waterline and began toward the rear guard.

Trudging through the muddy, rock strewn riverbed was strange. Somehow even the silty, brownish water felt wrong.

Not relevant.

Right.

30 seconds later I rounded the small outcropping on the southeast side of the island and put eyes on my target once again. Four of the Raiders had departed, most likely to assist in the assault. The remaining members of the rear guard were fanned out across the small bank, which was better decision making than I'd seen from them at any other point. Problem was they were all looking into the houses.

If there were any colonies or insurrectionists that had this level of tactical awareness, they were probably wiped out within the first few years of the War.

I took a few extra seconds to close with them; if they weren't looking, no point in taking difficult shots from range with a handgun (I had the sniper, but I wasn't wasting ordinance like that on these assholes).

Once I was within a dozen or so meters, I crept out of the water, took aim at the closest one and put a round through his right ear.

As the opposite side of his skull exploded in a shower of bone and brains, I took aim at the next closest and squeezed off a second round. At that point the others began turning toward me and I charged forward. With three rounds left in the magazine, I had to get a little more personal with the rest.

The first body just hit the rocky riverbank when I reached the third Raider in line. I caught his wide eyed expression, full of shock and fear as I drove my right elbow into the bridge of his nose. His head caved in under the force of the blow and while he was falling to the ground I took aim at another to my right and sent him to join his comrades.

Another was running at me, rifle swinging wildly. Her rounds found the ground at my feet, one went somewhere in the hills behind me, some sprayed water over the dead men behind me, but none managed to hit me.

As she got near, I grabbed the collar of her cobbled together armor and jerked her toward me At the same time I brought my knee up and slammed it into her chest. Even through the titanium plates on my leg, I felt her ribcage turn to dust. I couldn't see what happened past that, but I know from experience that kind of trauma will turn whatever organs were on the other side into mulch.

The handgun spit out it's final two rounds before the slide locked back and two of the three Raiders tumbled to the ground. The final one, oddly, had his rifle slung across his back and was holding a knife. He was larger than the others, and relatively well built, but even without knowing what I am, he was giving up 10 centimeters and 30 kilograms. And I'm wearing armor. Maybe he was looking for some form of 'honorable fight'; it was something I've read about before.

Not my style.

I slipped my knife from the sheath under my arm and in the next instant it was buried in his neck. The light faded from the final Raider's eyes as I pulled the blade out and he collapsed to the riverbank.

With the rear guard, and most likely their leader, dealt with, I slipped a new magazine into my handgun and began my hunt through the houses for my remaining targets.

As with the rest of the Raiders, these ones had next to no unit cohesion or tactical awareness. They were spread sporadically through the houses, each firing randomly at different positions. Very few noticed me before I put them down and in the end, I tallied 10 more in just a few minutes.

Once I tracked the last one to a house on the southeast edge of town, cowering in one of the rearmost rooms, and ended his threat as well, I began back toward the safehouse. "All clear!"

"All clear", Nate's voice echoed.

"All clear", Preston replied in kind.

A soft wail accompanied the response.

So someone got hit? Wonder who it was. My gaze wandered around the houses as I walked back. Most had been riddled with gunfire from the roof to the sidewalk. These people couldn't shoot either. If one of them was dead, they didn't follow orders; these Raiders barely look like they'd ever seen a rifle.

The crying was coming from the safehouse. I ducked through the entrance and found out why: Jun was lying behind the living room's front window with half his face missing. That- that made no sense. The entry would have to be in the back of his head for that to happen… How had he been shot in the back of the head?

Marcy was sprawled over her husband's body, his blood covering her arms and face. She was muttering quietly to the dead man, caressing what was left of his head.

Her glassy eyes shifted from the body to me as I watched. I'd never seen her face emote much of anything, but now it was full of pain, confusion. Loss. "You son of a bitch. I have nothing left. NOTHING!" The woman stood from her dead husband, hands balled into fists. "You- if it wasn't for you the Raiders would have left us alone! They came here for you!"

Preston stepped forward. "Marcy tha-"

She rounded on him. "It is true! IT IS!"

Without my help you would have died in Concord. I didn't say anything.

As the Minuteman was about to respond, the distraught woman leapt at me. My right arm tensed for a strike, but before my body could move, I pinned my arms in place. She'd just lost the last of her family, the woman wasn't thinking.

That's something I know well.

I let her slam into my chest plate, pounding on it with closed fists like a toddler until Preston and Sturges recovered from their surprise. They rushed forward to pull her away, Preston's eyes wide the whole while. The moment they grabbed her, Marcy went limp, dangling in their arms like a ragdoll as if her muscles had ceased to exist.

"Kyle… Jun… why? Why did you have to leave?" Her voice was barely above a whisper. "I need you. I need you." The woman looked utterly defeated. Broken. Her world had not only shattered, but taken her along with it.

I uncoiled and now the adrenaline was wearing off, a sharp pain in my left shoulder reminded me it was still healing.

Preston finally detached his eyes from me and turned to Sturges. "Can you watch her for a few minutes?" The solemn faced engineer nodded a silent agreement. "Thanks." The Minuteman began toward me, expression a mixture of relief, sorrow, concern, and anger. "I'd- can we talk outside?"

I shrugged and walked back into the early night, closely followed by the other man.

"What happened? I thought you were going to help us after you finished in the hills." Preston's barely controlled voice trembled around the edges. I couldn't tell if it was from adrenaline, anger, or fear.

"I circled around and took out their leader. No point if they come back with more." When I'm not here. "I swept the town after that."

Silence blossomed between us as the Minuteman waited for me to continue, eyes searching for something in my faceplate.

Despite the group still being largely intact, I got the sense Preston was about to go on another one of his tirades. I'm tired of these 'conversations'.

"Ah." He sucked in a breath through his teeth and held it for a moment.

What, did he not have a chance to think about what he'd shout earlier? I was about to begin back toward the safe house when the Minuteman looked to the gravel strewn ground at his feet and let out an explosive sigh.

"Are they dead?" He looked back up at me, eyes searching. I nodded. "All of them?"

"Yes."

A procession of fear, gratitude, relief, and desperation slipped across his face. "How many were there?"

Weird question to ask. "30, including the Raiders in the hills."

Preston shuddered. "Wow… that's- holy shit. I guess we owe you our lives. Again."

Genuine gratitude? That's new.

"I did my job."

"Right. Your job." He nodded absentmindedly. "So now what?"

"Treat the wounded, put people on watch for a second attack. Wait until morning and take resources from the dead."

"Okay, I'll put Sturges and Dan on watch. I think something happened to Julian, not serious though."

I nodded and we walked back into the safehouse as the others began congregating in the living room. Each was watching Marcy hold what was left of her husband. She was mumbling, crying, and cursing.

Underneath the sobs I was just able to make out the broken woman crooning her now dead family's names.

"Jun… Kyle… I- you bot-" She choked on a sob. "I need you. Please -please don't leave me. Please don't leave me al- alone."

Now I know what that pain I felt when the group was gathered around the man who died when we first got here had been. I could place it in the days, weeks, maybe even months after the Covenant attack. Marcy was the image of that agony of loss. As I looked around at the remaining members of the group, each of them, including Nate, looked on with the expression that said they knew exactly what she was going through.

Oddly, the emotion that passed through my mind, if only fleetingly, was something akin to comfort.