A/N: Ave and good wishes from the provinces of clichés and convenience. I managed to upload the chapter on time this month! The support you all have shown the story thus far has been phenomenal and I truly appreciate it. I've been going back through the previous chapters to edit some of my... let's call it subpar writing. I'll be posting those with another chapter later this month (I hate it when people just update chapters without actually providing new ones). Anyways, we're finally at Diamond City and things will continue to get more interesting from here on. As always, let me know what you all think and what you'd like to see in the future. Enjoy!

All materials belong to their respective owners.

Chapter 7: The Beginnings of a Beautiful Friendship

We emerged from the tunnel into the stadium's seating area with a clear view down to where the field had been 200 years prior. Now it was a collection of cobbled together structures that looked like they had been made from whatever their occupants could find, from wooden planks, to corrugated steel, and even what seemed to be random vehicle parts. Hell, there was an entire burnt out truck sitting off to one side of the group of structures.

Taken as a whole, the 'town' looked like a collection of items someone took out of a landfill, decided to build a poor facsimile of civilization, and lashed it all together with… well I'm not sure what. I bet if a strong wind found its way over the stadium walls, most of these structures would collapse.

Most of the 'buildings', for lack of a better, word were grouped toward the near side of the field while it looked like the far side was some form of farm. Similarly unstable looking structures were haphazardly strewn around the seating area, probably living accommodations.

People were strolling through the collection of structures, shopping, talking, eating, and more. With how small the area was, a thousand people, give or take with Preston's estimation, looked as densely packed as any of the large cities I'd seen. It was oddly… comforting. I never made a habit of spending time around crowds, there were too many risks involved and few, if any, reasons to do so, but it was familiar. To this point this world has been so desolate, it was uncomfortable; seeing something resembling civilization was a nice change.

"This is so… wrong." The soft, almost silent statement of disbelief drew my gaze from the ramshackle collection of wood, rebar, corrugated steel, concrete, and rubble to Nate. He was staring at the crowded playing field, wide eyed.

How many times are you going to do this?

"Someone will get suspicious if we stay here."

With an absentminded nod, the smaller man's feet began carrying him toward the bottom of the seating area where a pathway had been made to the center of the 'town'.

After several seconds of walking he shook himself like a wet dog and squared his shoulders. "We need to find someone who knows the area, someone who can help track."

Track his son? I can understand the urgency to get his son back, but I held up my end of the bargain; getting side tracked like that could add a significant amount of time to getting back, and there was no telling if Nate could find him even if the kid was still alive. "I agreed to get you here, I need someone who knows about the Institute."

Nate stopped dead in his tracks and shot what was probably the most venomous look he had to give. "The fuck do you mean?"

I squared my shoulders to him; the look was something I'd seen countless times, from Innies, from the team of ODST's I'd worked with, hell even civilians. Even if I hadn't he wasn't in a position to try intimidation. "We are operating off of the understanding if I got you here, you would help me find someone to help me get in contact with the Institute."

"So what, you're cutting me off here? Just humping me to the nearest civilization and dropping me off once I'm not useful anymore? We're talking about my son." The ex-soldier was fuming, probably a continuation of our earlier conversation.

"That's all I agreed to. I have my own priorities."

The borderline murderous expression slowly melted into one of astonishment. "You really have no sympathy do you? I'm looking for my son here; Shaun is the only thing I have left."

Despite myself, I had to choke down a humorless, mocking laugh. Sympathy? HA! I never had the benefit of sympathy. Do I have any? Preston's group is alive, you're here and alive so I guess I have some, yeah, but it doesn't get in the way of mission objective.

What is mission objective?

Return to UNSC.

If it's possible.

If it is, that's priority.

And if it isn't?

The sooner I find out the better.

"Sympathy doesn't have any place in operations, you were military, you know that."

"Are you fuc- this- this isn't an 'operation', this is about my child! Hell you don't even know if you can get back!"

"I don't know I can't, so it's my duty to find out."

"Your duty is more important than a baby's life?!"

"We have different priorities; his life is your responsibility."

Nate sneered at me. "Now we're here, what if I just refuse until you help?"

My back went ramrod straight and muscles loosened before I went deathly still. My gaze sharpened and I stared him down through the visor. For a moment, even the sound of the relatively busy town seemed to fade away. I wouldn't kill him for breaking his side of the agreement; maybe it was his determination, the blatant vengefulness he'd displayed when I found him at the bunker, the military training. Maybe it was a combination of those things and a few besides, but every part of me was screaming this man was a threat. Threats are something I eliminate.

"I won't be stabbed in the back."

Nate's eyes flashed wide; he scrambled backward and reached for his rifle, but froze, eyes locked on me. His right hand was halfway to the weapon's grip in front of his chest, but I'd never released mine. I hadn't raised it yet, but the instant he touched his, the man's life was forfeit. The nearly animalistic fear on his face told me he was probably thinking about the fight with the Raiders three days prior, and he was smart enough to know that rifle would get him killed.

"So- so what do you want? You want me to stop looking for my son to help you?"

"I want you to uphold your part of our agreement."

"If we have different priorities, and mine is to get him back, why should I put that on pause to help you which isn't my responsibility?" Despite the shakiness in his voice, Nate managed to spit the last word like it was poison.

"Because it would turn you into a liability." I let the implications hang in the thickening air between us. This is one of the few types of interactions I've had some experience with in the field. Frankly, my approach wasn't much different from how I fight: prod at the opposition, give them impossible choices, leverage my 'advantages', and occasionally veiled threats were a great way to get what you want. Even so, this interaction would go much smoother if I had more experience with people in general.

"So you're just going to force me to help before looking for my son."

"I told you in Sanctuary: I don't like being exploited."

"And I told you, I'm looking for my son."

"You aren't the only one looking for something; this isn't even my reality."

Another flash: my house, gunfire, someone yelling my name and grabbing me before a loud tearing noise and a spray of blood. Then a jump forward, Fourier and his squad… my squad prepping for an operation. How were those memories connected? Why would they be a part of the same flash? I couldn't place it, but both filled me with a feeling of overwhelming loneliness. I've spent most of my life alone; isolation isn't new to me so why am I feeling lonely now of all times? It isn't going to help here.

For his part, Nate had opened his mouth to reply, but his expression changed to shock and then melted into… something else just before the words came out and it slowly drifted shut again. His eyes had a strange curiosity.. "This is the first time you've sounded… anything but frustrated, really."

The statement took me by surprise; had I sounded any different than normal? And did I normally sound frustrated?

"And?"

He averted his gaze for a moment and shrugged. "I don't know- you sounded… upset."

Upset? I didn't feel any different than normal, outside of being pestered by more memories. "That isn't important."

After another pause the ex-soldier met my gaze again, suddenly all of the fire in his face was gone. He was thinking something, but I couldn't place it. His expression didn't say 'pity', but it was similar. "Alright, but can I ask you something?"

I gave a curt nod despite my irritation.

"If our paths go in the same direction, can you help me? I just want my son back." The smaller man hesitated, clearly fighting with what he wanted to say next. Eventually the internal argument resolved and he sucked in a deep breath. "And I'd like to help you too, if that ends up being useful anyway."

Help me? Once he finds me someone who can point me toward the Institute, how would he help me? And why would he want to? "Why?"

A sad smile crossed his face. "Maybe I'm just being sentimental, but I feel like it's right for two people who have been ripped out of their worlds to stick together. Plus… I get the feeling we're both going to need the extra help."

You more than me. It was… intriguing; the man knew how to fight, and he was better with people than me, but having someone else would only slow me down, so the question is: will I need a guide once I've made contact with the Institute?

"We'll see."

Nate hesitated again before nodding slowly. Judging from prior experience, he had something else to say, but he was clearly still upset.

"Let's start in the market, someone there might know who would have the information you need."

He didn't wait for a reply before turning to march down the rest of the stairs toward what, in another time, had been a playing field. The ex-soldier controlled it well, but I couldn't help but notice the stiffness in his gait and slight shake in his hands. Somehow seeing the fear, this time directed straight at me instead of what I'd done, brought on a pang of… guilt?

I didn't instigate the argument.

As I started after the smaller man, I did my best to push the emotion away.

Walking through the 'town's' market was both uncomfortable and an exercise in frustration. There were dozens of people milling around the area, talking, shopping, eating, and whatever else people do in marketplaces, but they were so closely packed, it was impossible to keep track of everything.

On top of that, I'd never been so conscious of my size or armor. That was most likely because I'd spent the majority of my life in settings where it didn't matter, but standing tall enough to be seen by everyone in the area didn't help when they were also inclined to stare because of my armor. It felt like a thousand pairs of eyes were drilling into me from every direction, so much so that it took all of my willpower to keep from tearing off toward cover. I'd spent the last 15 years trying to keep as small a presence as possible, right now it felt like I had the same as a Scorpion MBT.

My discomfort must have shown because, despite his still present nervousness, I caught Nate smirking at me from time to time as we made our way through the crowd. Besides potential threats in the throng, my main concern was how people would respond to my presence. Neither Nate nor I knew what these people would do with me here.

After what seemed like a week of trudging through the suffocating marketplace, Nate stopped in front of a shop that was empty save a small brown haired woman in a ragged button up shirt. She was standing behind a few haphazardly nailed together pieces of wood that were probably supposed to serve as a counter. The clerk didn't make any attempt to hide her half confused, half incredulous expression as she stared up at me.

My charge cleared his throat. "Hi ma'am. We're new around here. Name's Nate."

Her eyes shot from me to the smaller man. "I figured." Her scratchy voice was almost accusatory. "Where'd you two come here from?"

Nate seemed to have noticed her tone too, if his frown was anything to judge by. "From… down south. Did I do something wrong?"

"Maybe, don't know yet, but if you're a synth, take your ass somewhere else."

So whatever a 'synth' is, these people think the same way about them as the Brotherhood? Does that mean they distrust the Institute too?

I couldn't ignore the screaming in the back of my head anymore; I turned away from the shop and back toward the crowd of people, many of whom were still openly glaring at me.

"I've heard of synths before, but I have no idea what they are. Sorry, we aren't from around here."

"You don't know what synths are?"

"Afraid not, why don't you serve them."

I could almost feel the woman's suspicion. "You want me to believe you don't know what a synth is? What, you've never heard of the Institute?"

"I have, but I don't know much about them either."

"You said you're from down south? Where about?"

Uh oh. Either he could lie and give her an area and risk getting his lack of knowledge exposed, or he could keep being vague, which would probably end the conversation. I don't think explaining he spent the last 200 years as an ice cube would help his situation.

"The Appalachians, a ways southwest of DC."

I didn't know what either of those were, but it still sounded pretty vague, maybe that was the best option.

A young kid stopped in front of me, mouth agape in open astonishment. He didn't look like he could have been any older than five. Same age I was when the Covenant attacked. I wonder if his parents are alive in this backasswards world. We stared at each other for a few seconds before an older man came and grabbed him, casting furtive glances back at me as they hurried into the crowd.

I released the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. A familiar anger swelled from deep in my chest. I didn't have time to deal with it now though.

"How did you get up here?"

"Ma'am, is there a reason this is turning into an interrogation?"

"Like I said, I ain't selling to synths."

"It doesn't sound like there's a way for me to convince you we aren't. It's fine, I'm just looking for directions to someone who knows the area, and someone else who might be able to help me find a missing person."

"A missing person?"

The split second hesitation before he answered wasn't lost on me. I guess I scared him more than I thought; he was being awfully careful to keep my priorities at the front. "That's personal business, but we're also looking for someone who can give us info on the area."

"Whatever. If you want to find a missing person, you'll want to talk to Nick Valentine. He runs a Private Detective agency over there. He's also a good person to ask if you need to know about ongoings around the Commonwealth. Most of us don't leave Diamond City, too dangerous with the Mutants and the damn synths."

"Thanks for the information."

No response came as Nate walked past me and I followed him back into the maelstrom that was the crowded market center. It didn't feel like any fewer people were staring at me now than when we'd first arrive, and considering how on edge they all seem it might actually be safer for Nate without me here. If even 10% of them were carrying, the attention I was drawing outweighed the protection I could provide. The only positive was the crowd seemed to part around us as we walked, like no one wanted to be within five meters of me.

As I was looking around I caught the ex-soldier glancing back at me again, this time there was less amusement and more concern in his expression.

We detached ourselves from the crowd and walked down an adjoined isle toward a large, neon pink sign that read Valentine Detective Agency.

"You don't spend much time in crowds huh?"

I shook my head. The amount of incoming information was… difficult. I don't know how people operate in a setting like that.

"You know what I said about this not being a battlefield?" Met his gaze. "That might help you here; I know what it's like to come back from a combat environment. Too much going on, too many risks, too many potential threats. Saw a buddy lose it once at a VA event." He shuddered. "Not saying it's easy, but it will help."

Don't think about this place as a battlefield? That sounds like terrible advice considering the planet was turned into one. I could deal with a crowd on occasion if it was a necessity, but wouldn't be letting my guard down even if I could.

"Let's talk to this supposed expert."

He opened his mouth, but it drifted shut without a word and he looked back at the small shack beneath the blazing advertisement. Yeah... I guess I did a good job of intimidating him. The thought was more uncomfortable than it should be, that twinge of guilt still floating in the back of my mind.

We arrived at the 'building' and he rapped on the wooden door hard enough it might spontaneously collapse.

"Hello", a voice called from the inside, "can I help you?"

"Yes, my companion and I are new to the area; we're trying to find our way around and need a missing person looked into. I was told Nick Valentine was the person to talk to about that."

A moment of silence was followed by a quick rustling before footsteps approached the opposite side of the door. Whoever was on the other side hesitated again before undoing the latch and swung the door open. She was a tall, lanky woman wearing a pink scarf and worn khaki vest over a short sleeve shirt and skirt. Her eyes were red and swollen.

Nate smiled. "Hi ma'am, are you Nick Valentine?"

"You're looking for Nick? No… I'm- I'm just his secretary, Ellie, handling paperwork, appointments, that sort of thing." Her eyes fell to the ground. "Or I used to. Hard to run a detective agency with no detective."

The ex-soldier frowned. "No detec- did something happen?" I couldn't tell if the concern in his voice was for the detective or for his chances of finding his son.

Ellie looked back at the ex-soldier. "He was working a case, looking for a lost girl at a local gangster's hideout. I told him not to go I-" her voice cracked and it took several breaths for her to regain her composure. "I told him not to go, that it was a trap and- and he just walked out of the door. He walked out with that same smile like he always does."

"We may be able to help, do you mind if we come in?" It almost sounded like Nate blurted the words out before he could think about what he was saying.

For her part, the woman was shocked out of her depression for a moment. "Oh, uh, I don't know if you can help but… but it would probably be good for me to talk with someone other than myself." She turned from the door and plodded back into the building.

Nate was just about to take a step forward when he turned and looked at me, the question and uncertainty evident in his expression.

Is it worth the time?

I don't have enough information to make that call yet and at this point, it's still the best path forward. Hearing her out might glean some information on the area as well, even if this turns into a dead end.

I nodded. Nate walked into the dimly lit interior and I ducked through the door after him.

The shack had a desk at the far end with two chairs in front of it and one behind. There were a few filing cabinets arranged around the room with a few other chairs. Manila folders and loose paper were strewn around every flat surface. Light came from a hanging lamp that probably only provided around half what I would call 'normal' for a room this size, as small as it was. This interior was a whole new type of uncomfortable; I could barely stand up straight without my head hitting the corrugated steel roof.

Ellie was taking a seat behind the desk when she looked up and almost tumbled over backward in the chair.

"Holy- what- who are you?"

She didn't see me standing behind Nate outside?

The woman's eyes flew from side to side so fast it was almost comical as she looked me over. Maybe she had been too focused on Nate talking about what had happened? I know from experience how easy it is to tunnel vision in high stress situations.

I shrugged mentally; it didn't matter, I just need to know what the situation is.

Nate looked from her, to me and back, the look on his face equal parts confusion and humor. He was trying very hard to hold in a laugh. "This is my travel partner."

She stared at me for a few heartbeats before looking down and brushing at a few wrinkles in her skirt that weren't ever going to come out. "Well, okay then, take a seat if you'd like."

It's strange she isn't reacting the same way as everyone in the crowd or that shop owner. Is she just desperate for help? Does she not share their distrust of the Institute? Something else?

Nate sat in the prescribed chair while I stayed near the entrance.

"Why are you offering to help?"

The question wasn't exactly accusatory, but it made sense she would have doubts about a stranger walking in off the street to help.

"Like I said, we're looking for someone who can help with our… problems. We were told most people here don't go out of the stadium often."

Ellie nodded. "That's true, Nick and the guards are the only one who do it regularly. We have traders that come in obviously, but those are usually caravans that stay on their routes. It's a lot safer that way. Would you mind me asking what those 'problems' are?"

It was happening slowly, but the woman's demeanor was changing; she was obviously still upset, but she seemed to have picked up a few ques from her employer.

"Well… we're looking for my son, and for information on the Institute."

Another short silence passed as the secretary studied Nate with a raised eyebrow. "That's an odd combination, are you someone else who suspects the Institute of kidnapping someone?"

"I… don't know, but that's why we're here."

She looked between the two of us. I'm not sure I like the idea of going on a chase for someone who is most likely dead. Problem is it doesn't sound like I have an alternative at this point. Maybe one of the guards would be able to help? Probably not, not if they have the same distrust of the Institute everyone else does. Ellie doesn't seem as upset with the topic, so it's possible she, and by extension Nick, have more information on them than the average person here.

That or they don't buy the borderline conspiracy theorist story about them; Sturges had said he didn't trust most of the stories he heard. I know how those work, hell there were probably some about me, and ONI definitely engaged in actions most would brush off as conspiracies. Somehow I doubt any organization that exists in a world like this has the capacity to operate like that.

"I want to trust you, I do, because if there's any hope Nick is still alive, I wouldn't be able to take advantage of it. It isn't like I can tear off across the city to rescue him; I doubt I'd make it more than 20 feet from the gates."

"You're saying if the detective is alive we would have to fight our way to him?"

She nodded. "Yes, he went to the hideout of a gang called the Triggermen. They are in a Vault under Park Street Station but… well it's a Vault, so there's only one way in and it's definitely going to be guarded."

Highly fortified emplacement with heavy guard and underground too? The smirk that spread across my face wasn't entirely involuntary. That is my kind of operation.

Aren't I supposed to be looking for a lead on the Institute?

Yes, but I couldn't lie to myself, the fights I've had so far have been… disappointing. These guys were at least intelligent enough to set up shop in a defensible position. Besides, this may be the best path forward, so what's the harm?

Dying?

Well that's just part of the fun isn't it?

Losing Nate?

If he decides to come along, that's his choice to make.

Nick might already be dead.

I won't know until I get there. Isn't that the same logic I'm using to justify pushing so hard to get back to the UNSC? I don't know if it's even possible.

Motion drew my attention back to the outside world. Nate was turning to me.

"Well? It's probably the best we can do for now unless we get extremely lucky."

"I'm not opposed; we'll need more intel."

A half worried, half amused smile flickered across his face as he turned back. "Fighting our way in won't be a problem, but he's right. First of all, why would you think he's still alive?"

The woman stared at Nate, a look of open astonishment on her face. "You're going after him? You'll go after Nick?"

"If we can get him out alive, if he is still alive."

"Right." She settled back into the chair. "The gang he went after, the Triggermen, he and their leader, Skinny Malone, they have a history together from when Malone was in Good Neighbor."

"Good Neighbor?"

"You- oh right, not from around here. Good Neighbor is another town a little ways away. Not quite as large but it's a little more... rugged than here."

"More crime?"

"Less law."

"Okay so he runs a gang from the rougher part of town. Do you know how many are with him? What kind of experience they have? What weapons they have"

"They run like any other group in the area: raid caravans mostly, sometimes get into turf wars, that's about it. I think they model themselves after older gangs from before the war, so they use submachine guns for the most part. I don't know how many of them there are though."

"Do you know anything about their hideout?"

She shook her head. "Just that it's a vault."

So an unknown number of targets, most likely better armed and organized than the Raiders I've fought, in a heavily defended position. I've worked with less.

"Alright, you mind if we talk it over?"

"Oh, no go right ahead." A sad smile flickered across her face. "I guess I'm a bit surprised; I didn't think anyone would help?"

Nate stood from the desk. "Thanks."

The ex-soldier followed me back out into the brownish sunlight and ramshackle town.

"So what do you think?"

I shrugged. "It's doable. Without any information on the target location or enemy numbers, there are a lot of risks involved, but I've had worse."

"Okay, I'll let her know we'll do it."

"We need to wait."

Nate squinted at me. "Wait? Why?"

"We are doing this just before dawn, and you need rest."

Considering I'd been awake for more than two days now, I could probably use a few hours of shut eye too.

"No, we need to get moving; if this guy is still alive, waiting might change that."

"I want every advantage I can get with this many unknowns."

"The longer we wait the further these bastards get with my son."

"And if you get killed?"

"What, you don't think you can wipe these guys out too?"

I cocked my head. It was a challenge, but the way he said it, the smaller man sounded like he resented me for what I'd done to the Raiders, or intended to do to this gang.

"Your survival is not a requirement for me to do so."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

My statement hadn't been a threat, but it upset him all the same. I couldn't tell if my irritation stemmed from my inability to interact with these people, or their inability to act rationally. The problem now is if things continue like they have been, I'm going to lose his cooperation and I'll be back to square one. He's probably still agitated from out in the parking lot. Then there was his episode in the seating area, now he's clearly nervous. How do I calm him down?

Explaining it wasn't a threat would probably be a good place to start.

Is it? Maybe, but I don't know how to do that? How do I convince him? No answer presented itself from the now swirling mess of confusion and frustration that was my head.

Fighting is infinitely easier than this. Fighting is simple. Dealing with people has too many unknowns.

Maybe the best answer was the truth, but that would involve talking about prior missions.

If the goal is to pacify him, and that is the route with the best chance of success, take it.

I didn't know if it was, but standing here arguing with myself wasn't going to get me anywhere

"That wasn't a threat; it isn't uncommon for regs operating with SPARTANs on high risk assignments."

The ex-soldier squinted for a split second before his eyes went wide with surprise. Was that wrong?

"Say that again." The anger had left his voice, replaced with confusion and a sliver of disbelief.

Why?

"I've had regular soldiers die on high risk operations before."

The surprise didn't leave his face. "I- that's the first time you've talked about the missions you did in your… uh… reality."

My mind replayed my conversations with him to this point, searching for other mentions of my role. I'd more or less confirmed at least part of what I did when he asked back in Cambridge, but it was the first time I mentioned it myself.

"Your point?"

"Surprised is all. Maybe it's that you're actually trying to be- well I don't think 'sociable' is the right word, but less, I think the best way to put it is 'stick up your ass'." He cocked his head for a moment. "That's probably wrong too; I'm just surprised you told me something about yourself without me having to pry it out of you."

Oh you definitely had to pry it out of me, just not the way you think.

Silence found its way into the conversation, or at least as much silence as there could be with the constant din of the town's marketplace nearby, as Nate lost himself in thought. Unfortunately, I couldn't tell what was running through his head.

"And you complained about me somehow forcing you to do something", he said eventually as he shook his head. It wasn't the agreement I was looking for, but it wasn't an argument either. If I had to put a word to it, I'd say his tone was resigned'. "Fine, we'll wait until tonight."

We re-entered the shack to Ellie's nervous gaze.

"We'll do it, but we're going to wait until tonight."

The woman's expression melted into a mess of relief, sadness, and hope. "Oh thank you. Thank you so much." She lurched forward in her chair like she'd suddenly remembered something and pulled one of the desk's drawers open. "I don't have much, certainly not enough to pay you for something like this." She pulled a small bag out and set it on the desk in front of her. "I can promise we'll help you with whatever you need afterward though, free of charge of course."

The bag sounded like it was filled with more bottle caps when Nate took it from the desk. "I think we'll be fine with that." I nodded as he glanced at me.

She let out a breath. "So, I forgot to ask, but what are your names?"

"Well I'm Nate…"

The two of them looked at me.

"Damon."

She nodded. "Thank you both for doing this."

This just keeps getting better… The thought was only half facetious as I crouched in the entrance to one of the many collapsing towers surrounding the small park that Ellie told us would be the best point of entry for the subway. The clearing was a microcosm of what this world had become: dead trees, and patchy, dead grass mixed with piles of rubble strewn over the rusted and dilapidated ruins of what had been tables, chairs, and playground equipment.

"I haven't seen anyone", Nate whispered from his position on the opposite side of the doorway.

Thanks for the input. Scanning the area with NV had given me a much better idea of what might be out there. It was true there were no guards at the service entrance to the subway, but the ground was too thick for my optics to penetrate.

"Are you sure you just want me on rear guard?"

"It will be safer."

"I don't need you to worry about me."

I glanced at the smaller man. "Safer for me too."

A dissatisfied grunt flew my way. "So you're saying I'm a liability?"

Nate seemed to be the opposite of Preston: the longer I'm around him the more argumentative he gets.

"In a fight like this."

"You care to explain that one to me?"

He's seen me fight several times; why is he trying to make things more difficult now? My gaze returned to the park. The ex-soldier was beginning to make keeping him around less and less tolerable. And he wanted me to help him find his son?

Why am I still dragging him with me? Or at the very least why didn't I leave him back at the city and do this myself?

"Well?" The ex-soldier's voice flew at me with a similar venom as it had when we first got to Diamond City.

"The best option you have is to follow my lead. This is what I do." I did my best to convey I was done with the conversation; my next step would probably have involved some form of physical restraint.

For his part, Nate grunted but didn't respond.

After a few more minutes of watching, the sky just began turning a shade brighter. I signaled for Nate to follow and slipped into the park. The ex-soldier was painfully loud crossing the rubble strewn street; it was almost like people were afraid of being silent.

We reached the small building that marked the entrance to the subway system. Light was spilling out of the entry way. It was coming from a pair of incandescent lights set in the wall flanking the double doors that served as entryways to the subway. So these people have electricity too. That was irritating; darkness would have made things much easier for me. Oh well.

I eased the door open a hand's breadth and peered inside. Immediately beyond the door was a well lit trash strewn staircase leading to another doorway. Voices drifted up to me from whatever was on the other side. I caught maybe three distinct voices, but there may have been more.

Rifle trained on the doorway, I pushed the door the rest of the way open, slipped down the stairs and took up position to the right of the entrance. Inside looked like a lobby of some sort with rusted steel benches, broken down vending machines, and more trash scattered everywhere with the occasional crate.

The voices sounded like they were coming from a hall at the back of the room running by what must have been a ticket booth at one point in the distant past. I glanced behind me to see Nate still kneeling at the top of the stairs, watching the subway entrance. At least he was cooperating.

I was about to step through the doorway into the lobby when my head screamed at me to stop. Something didn't look right about the entrance. My eyes roamed around the area again; no one I missed, not many places for anyone to hide. After a few heartbeats of searching, my gaze drifted down to the trash on the floor. There was a large pile of it spread on the other side of the door, but something about it was off.

I squeezed myself through the entrance and hugged the wall to the left, avoiding the layer of garbage covering that area. After another glance around the room, I carefully sifted through the assortment of food wrappers, cartons, and rags until I felt something solid.

Anti-personnel mine.

My eyes widened. Maybe I was wrong about this world; these people, who are supposed to be gang members, not only have access to security measures like this, but made good use of them.

Another razor sharp smile made its way onto my face. This would definitely be interesting.

Without knowing anything about it, trying to disarm the mine would take too long and be too dangerous. I looked back into the entryway; Nate was already watching me from the top of the staircase. I waved him down. Once he reached me I pointed to the mine. "They have this place wired, watch for traps."

"These are gangsters?"

I looked at him pointedly. "With explosives."

He shuddered. "Okay."

While carefully checking for more traps, I slipped to the ticket booth and peered down the hall. There were three men standing in the hall, each of them dressed in rumpled black suits and matching hats, all cradling a submachine gun. At least that piece of info was right.

A dozen meters separated us, I could probably cross that before any of them could fire, but it would take one reflexive trigger pull and this incursion would become a lot louder. Was there anything I could do to get them to move toward me?

A soft ruffling came from the opposite corner of the lobby.

I wheeled on the sound, rifle up, but I was only greeted with Nate trying to get my attention with a crumpled piece of cloth. My irritation spiked again. What the hell is he doing? I'd already guessed he'd never done covert operations or infiltrations before, the guy was a ground pounder, but holy shit he doesn't understand how these things work.

Just as I was about to turn back I noticed he was pointing at something. I looked in the prescribed direction-

Oh… I tamped down my frustration when I realized he was pointing at a maintenance door set in the far wall. If we could get that open without drawing the attention of the guards, it might lead us closer to the Vault that is supposedly buried somewhere in the subway system.

I crept back toward him, careful to avoid the mounds of trash, overturned benches, and scattered belongings. The door was rusted, which meant the hinges were most likely going to groan as the door opened. The question is how loud would they be? Nate stepped aside and turned to cover the hall. I placed my left hand on the door, rifle up, and carefully pushed the door open a fraction. The hinges shuddered, but didn't squeal.

Before opening it any further, I searched the door jam . It didn't take more than a few seconds to find what I was looking for: a string attached to the top of the door running to something in the room beyond. I slipped my knife through the crack and cut the tripwire.

With a quick doublecheck, I pushed the door open the rest of the way and swept the maintenance hall behind it. There was nothing but a rigged double barrel shotgun on the floor pointed at where an intruder's head would be. Damn, these guys aren't taking chances.

That set the trend for the trek down the maintenance hall. The problem was two fold really: the passage was so cramped I barely fit, and there were several traps along the way.

After several minutes of defusing traps, descending several sets of stairs, and generally wishing I'd just taken the direct approach, we emerged into a subway tunnel that was still under construction. Work lights, construction equipment, steel shipping containers, and dilapidated (really it was just collapsed) scaffolding was scattered everywhere.

There were also another half dozen guards milling around the area.

On the far side of the subway tunnel was what must have been the entrance to the Vault. The opening was shaped like a massive gear with three of the guards directly outside. The problem was there wasn't much cover between here and there. A staircase that must have been the main entrance was to the left, and there was the scattered equipment, but the entire place was well lit and gaps between cover were too large to cross unnoticed.

Well… sometimes it's just about being better than the other guy.

I turned to Nate who was still crouched behind me in the hall. I signaled for him to stay put; after I got a nod in response, I put together a quick plan of attack. I'd have to isolate the men at the door and be ready for those men from the entrance to come down the stairs. If I could put down the ones in here fast enough, I wouldn't need to worry about two fronts, but how many were in the Vault? I could take cover at the staircase, dispatch those men first and confront the ones who leave the Vault from there.

A few seconds later I settled on my strategy and slipped out of the door. The staircase was a dozen meters away, I reached it just as the first target noticed me.

"Hey! The fuck are you doing in here?" He was standing on the station's platform near the staircase; it was a little earlier than I wanted l, but with this kind of engagement it hardly mattered.

As I slid to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, I shouldered my rifle and put a round through the bridge of the gangster's nose. The others all started scrambling at the gunshot, but I put another down before they could get to cover. As that report faded, I heard the group of men from upstairs running to see what was happening. The three of them rounded the corner, weapons up, but I already had my sights on the top of the staircase.

My rifle barked and another enemy dropped, but as I sighted on the second, the remaining men opened up on automatic and peppered the bottom of the staircase with small caliber rounds. Several caught me and my shields flared in response. I fired twice more and their return fire ceased as they tumbled down the stairs.

I ducked behind the crumbling steps as more gunfire came from the Vault's defenders. These men were definitely better than the Raiders, but they still weren't professional soldiers; even Innies knew using weapons on automatic in a situation like this was not only ineffective, but potentially dangerous.

As the incoming fire slackened, I leaned out and took another gangster with a quick trigger squeeze. No sooner had the round connected than the others adjusted their fire and bullets cracked through the air I'd just vacated.

Nice response. I was beginning to enjoy myself.

No sense in wasting this opportunity just picking them off; it didn't seem like any more would be coming down the stairs.

I leaned out once again and fired several rounds at my targets, but they were all well entrenched by this point, one below the station's platform, one behind a steel shipping container, and two by the Vault entrance. Two peaked out of their cover to return fire. As they did, I rolled to my right, away from the staircase, and once I came up, I gave the trigger another squeeze and eliminated the gangster behind the container.

Before his body could hit the floor, I was sprinting for his cover. I slid to the edge of the walkway and dropped down next to the one hiding below the platform. The shock barely had time to register on his face before I brough the but of my rifle down and caved the side of the gang member's head in.

Once I got to the steel container, I took stock of the targets in the area: still only the remaining two I'd originally seen. No one came from the Vault to help? That seemed… odd; these guys were well organized and armed. In a world like this, that would take more than just a dozen men to achieve and maintain.

"Who the fuck are you", one of them shouted. "You know who you fucked with? You're a goddamn dead man!"

Why do people feel the need to talk in a fight?

My response was a bullet through his head.

"GODDAMMIT", the last one screamed. He started spraying wildly at my cover, rounds crashing into the thick steel, until his weapon clicked empty. I took that as my que to lance out from behind the storage container and sprinted for the Vault entrance.

My prey had only just dropped the empty magazine from his submachine gun when I slammed into him. The gangster tried to react, but before he could do anything, I swiped down and knocked the weapon out of his hands. I felt the distinct crunch of breaking bones and he doubled over in pain, clutching at this right arm as the bottom half of his forearm folded over itself in a compound fracture. He must have gone into shock immediately since no screaming followed him collapsing to the ground. Good, I might be able to get some information out of him.

"How many of you are there?"

The man's face was rapidly draining of color as he looked from his arm, to his dead comrades, and up to me. "Wh- who- who are you? What do you want?" His voice was trembling in pain and fear.

"I want to know how many of your friends are in the Vault."

"I… I don't know- I don't- Skinny took some of the boys out on a raid."

"How many are left?"

"Ten? Fifteen?"

A door squeaked open behind me. I wheeled on the sound, but it was just Nate exiting the maintenance hall. He looked at the carnage around the subway station as he walked toward the Vault entrance.

I turned back to my captive. "Where are you keeping Nick Valentine?"

The gang member looked as confused as a person who was going into severe circulatory shock could. "Uh- wh- who? Oh, the fuckin detective? He's uh- he's in the Overseer's office behind the um- the- the cafeteria."

That was probably as much as I was going to get out of him, and all I really needed. We don't know the layout of this place, but he wasn't in any condition to give me details. I've got an enemy count and a target location. Also, depending on how quickly we could get in and out, I may avoid fighting the gang's main force.

…. Not sure if that's a necessity yet.

I brought my rifle back up and, before the gangster had a chance to look surprised, put him down too.

A quick sweep of the subway and an ammo check later, I was moving into the Vault. Scrambling was coming from inside the depths of the structure as the fallen gang members' cohort hurried to join them.

Inside the massive gear shaped doorway a catwalk leading to another room filled with dozens of containers of varying size. To the right was a dark, empty observation room, probably a security checkpoint for people entering. Straight ahead was another, much smaller door set in a steel bulkhead. To the left was another door behind several more shelves and containers pushed up against the wall. Several sets of boots ringing on steel were coming from behind that one which meant it was probably where we needed to go.

I glanced over my shoulder at Nate who was still ambling on the other side of the Vault's entrance looking oddly lost. "Cover."

His head snapped up, eyes wide, and he scrambled to the side of the large opening.

Just as the pounding reached the opposite side of the door, I crouched behind one of the larger crates just off of the catwalk giving me a good line of sight through the door once it opened. Several moments of silence followed; maybe they were getting into position.

A grenade would be perfect for this.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than the door snapped open and gunfire poured through. It wasn't directed anywhere in particular, but underneath the barrage of reports I could just make out the patter of footsteps scrambling through the door. It was a rookie tactic but effective… against most enemies.

Before they had an opportunity to get anywhere, I leaned out from my cover and sighted on the first man through. He was sprinting for the shelves while his allies sprayed through the door. I caught a few rounds, but I still managed to put a bullet through his left eye and sprayed his brains back through the door for his trouble.

The next man stumbled over his friend's collapsing body and I double tapped him in the top of the head as he fell.

As the second man hit the ground, my targets' gunfire paused for a moment. With the lull, I swung out from behind the pillar and slipped toward the door. The first gangster who peaked back out didn't have time to register me before a bullet pierced the bridge of his nose and he dropped to the steel floor like a ragdoll.

I reached the doorway before any of the other men could make any other moves. I counted three 'Triggermen' hiding on the opposite side of the bulkhead; one on either side of the opening and the last one taking cover behind a crate near the back of the adjoining room. The last one had just chambered a fresh round as I ducked through the door. His eyes began widening as shot him.

The gangster to my right backpedaled trying to buy some time as he reloaded; I brought my left leg around in a snap kick to his chest and sent him careening backward into the wall.

To his credit, the last living member of the welcoming committee lunged forward, swinging his submachine gun like a club. I caught his right forearm, twisting it hard enough to crush his elbow and wrench his shoulder from its socket. He went unconscious from the pain almost instantly and collapsed to the floor as I released the mangled arm.

I put a round in his head and, while I was fairly certain the man I'd kicked was dead, I did the same for him.

With a quick check to make sure there were no more Triggermen, I swapped magazines and checked the bodies for anything useful. While their submachine guns were better suited for the close quarters, adding another weapon would make things cumbersome.

"Damon?"

I turned to see Nate walking toward the group of bodies wide-eyed.

"Look- uh, could we… you… slow down a minute? Can we talk?"

He was about to step past the two dead men at the entrance and into the room. My gaze shifted to the door on the far end that was still open. I blocked his path before he could move into a potential line of fire.

"We're in the middle of a gunfight."

The smaller man gaped at me. "This isn't a gunfight. You're- you're just killing them."

That's the point of a gunfight.

"If you're uncomfortable, find somewhere to hide." I turned back to the room and began toward the open doorway.

"HEY! DON'T YOU FUCKING IGNORE ME!"

I didn't bother responding. As soon as this part of the mission was finished and Valentine was helping me contact the Institute, I wouldn't have a use for the ex-soldier any longer. Bringing him here in the first place was a mistake, but I'd have to deal with it for the time being.

As long as he-

Something heavy thudded into my back.

I spun back toward the man who was very quickly becoming expendable. He was staring me down, eyes wide and hands empty.

His rifle was laying at my feet.

"I said don't. Ignore. Me."

My mind pulled in two directions at once: the first was back into the mission, back to moving and fighting, something I had infinitely more experience and was infinitely more comfortable with. The second was toward the center of a quickly growing anger.

One one hand, if I continued without addressing the problem, he would only become more disruptive. On the other, I only have one way of addressing problems.

Neither side was making any progress as the two of us stared each other down. He was still scared, but something else fought past the fear.

"What do you want", I hissed.

Nate flinched at the heat in my question, but he didn't back down.

"These are people, you're just gunning down people."

What is he talking about?

"They're holding the target captive."

"Yeah but- but you don't need to kill them for that. I mean maybe to get control of the situation, but not all of them."

He wants me to spare them? Why?

"That's an unnecessary risk, they don't have anything either of us need. Why do you care?"

He started. "Why don't you?"

"I care about completing the mission."

"And it doesn't matter-"

"The longer we stand here talking the more we risk them setting more ambushes or killing Valentine."

This was already outside my standard operating procedures; what I and most other SPARTANs excel at is moving too quickly for the enemy to keep up. That advantage was gone now, not that it was essential, but it made things easier.

"I- okay just- could you…"

Leave some of them alive? That accomplishes nothing besides leaving an enemy to stab you in the back.

I didn't offer a response and turned to exit the storeroom. I found myself in a long hall with another steel door at the other end. There was an intersecting hall half way down, but both directions were blocked off.

Through the next door was another partially constructed cavern that had a catwalk running from the hall to another sliding door 20 meters away on the opposite end of the enclosure. Rusted construction equipment was scattered around the space as well as several more Triggermen who were already positioned for a fight.

I didn't waste any time with these ones; Nate's delay already had me irritated. I was short on patience and had plenty of ammo.

30 seconds, 10 rounds later, and 5 gangsters later, I was through the next door. I was greeted by another empty store room with shelves and crates lining the wall. Oddly, this room had what looked like an access hatch removed from the center of the floor and a ladder extending down 10 meters. The only door in the room was sealed, so it seemed the only way forward was down.

The ladder looked sturdy, but most weren't rated for 500 kilos. That was without rust decorating the steel rungs.

Dropping into the room below wasn't the issue by itself, but if there was anyone lying in waiting, they might get the jump. There was a shelf about half way down the shaft that would allow me to clear the room before falling all the way down.

My armored boots clanged on the thick steel as I dropped onto the ledge. I did my best to load my legs and absorb the impact, but I could only do so much before physics decided to have its way. It wasn't like the gunfire wouldn't have alerted any remaining defenders to my presence.

The room below had some form of terminal sitting on a desk to one side that looked too old for a museum. Besides that it was vacant.

I dropped through the ceiling and did one more sweep to confirm there were no enemies. Nate made his way down the ladder after me and once he was at the bottom, I slid the next door open to another hall.

Two more open passages and I found myself peering through another door into what looked like a mess hall.

The overseer's office… My gaze wandered over the cavernous, open three story room to a port hole set in the far wall of the top floor. In front of it were several crates with two more Triggermen preparing themselves to join their dead friends.

"Who the hell are you", one of them screamed in an odd, twangy drawl.

I sighted on the small crate he was behind and readied to answer with a trigger pu-

"We're just here for-" It took me a moment to realize it was Nate calling out from behind me.

As soon as I did, I whipped around, grabbed the front of his shirt and slammed the ex-soldier into the steel wall behind him hard enough to produce a resounding boom. If his shocked cry was anything to judge by, he was more surprised than hurt.

"What the fuck are you doing", I spat, voice low.

"I'm- I just- there can't be many of them left." Nate was still pleading for their lives? Why? "Just let them go, you don't need to kill them; they're no threat to you."

"And Valentine?"

"If you have them restrained, he'll be fine too."

"You here to get fuckin' Valentine", the same man called. "Who sent you?"

My glare dared him to respond.

The smaller man's eyes were wide with fear. "What, you going to shoot me too?"

"You aren't opposition." But you're working hard to get there.

"You remember what I asked yesterday?"

"This is a battlefield."

"Because you're making it one."

"Well? Who sent you bastards?"

I released the man's shirt. "Don't interfere again."

It took a moment to put the anger he'd ignited once again away. I took my position back at the door and peeked back into the mess hall.

The man who was talking was peering out from behind his cover. Maybe he thought I was willing to talk since I hadn't fired yet. I rewarded his stupidity with a bullet through his head and splattered his brain all over the porthole in the wall behind him.

An instant later the second Triggerman started screaming and firing wildly. I sent him to join his companion in the next instant.

While his body fell, I did a quick sweep of the room to confirm all targets were down.

"Hey", a muffled voice called out from behind the window. "Whoever you all are, we've got maybe 10 minutes before Skinny and the rest of his boys get back. Big mouth should have the password to open the door on him. Staircase is at the back."

I slowly walked out into the mess hall, carefully checking the multitude of positions Triggermen could be hiding in. We were on the second floor with the center open to the seating area on the deck below. The same opening carried to the third floor. On the left side of the cafeteria was the prescribed stairway.

"Bastard." It was quiet enough to be considered a whisper, but I'm sure Nate meant for me to hear it.

Talking would have gotten you shot before you made it past the subway lobby.

I led him to the top floor. "Open the door, I'll watch for more."

The smaller man glared at me for a moment before he crouched next to the first man's body and searched for… I guess a piece of paper with the password on it.

A few seconds he stood up with a small pocketbook and flicked through it for a moment. Eventually he found something that seemed to satisfy him. The ex-soldier stalked to one of those ancient looking terminals sitting on a desk next to the door and began typing.

As he did, I moved to flank the door and it hissed open a moment later-

And… something resembling a human was standing on the other side.

Whatever it- he was, he had torn grey, skin that might have been silicon. His neck and right hand had the fake skin torn away at some point and the exposed metal endoskeleton was bare to see. The thing I assume was Nick wore a tattered trench coat and wide brimmed hat over an equally poorly looking button up shirt, tie, and slacks.

Then there were his glowing yellow eyes.

The two of us stood on opposite sides of the doorway staring at each other. To be fair he was probably as surprised by me as I was by him.

"What the hell?" Nate's voice sounded just as surprised as I felt.

"I could ask you the same thing." Nick's voice was mostly normal, but there was an odd, synthetic scratch behind the twang. "Who are you? And who sent you into this hellhole after me?"

Eventually common sense reasserted itself and I took a quick look around the cavernous mess hall before ducking into the dark office followed closely by Nate.

"Are you Nick Valentine?" The ex-soldier's voice had lost some of its apprehension, replaced with a good bit of confusion.

"Depends on who's asking."

"Uh… Ellie asked us to help you."

The detective's glowing eyes narrowed. "Where'd you find Ellie?"

"At your agency in Fen- Diamond City. We needed some help but she said you were captured."

While the two talked, I took a look around the office that had served as Valentine's cell.

"So you hurried down here to help little old me on a whim?"

The only things of note were the large, wraparound desk in the center of the room with another terminal on it and a much larger, still ancient looking server set against the back wall.

"Well- no. Like I said, we're looking for someone who can help us."

A blueprint on one of the walls caught my attention. Exfil would be much easier if I knew this place's layout.

"Help with?"

"A missing person. And finding the Institute."

After a moment's study a pang of disappointment slipped through the back of my mind; these prints were only for the immediate area.

"You and everybody else in this damned place."

"Well? Will you help?"

I felt the detective's eyes fall on me. "So who's big, strong, and silent over there?"

Nate didn't answer immediately; I glanced back to see him staring at me, a mixture of alarm and anger fighting over his expression.

"He's the one who wiped out the people in here to get us to you." His tone seemed like the ex-soldier was trying to carry enough venom to kill me.

"Wiped out- you killed all the people Malone left here?"

I looked back at the pair and nodded.

The detective seemed both guarded and thoughtful as he studied me. "So who are you then?"

"Someone looking for help."

"You're looking for help? With what?"

My internal alarm started ringing around the same time Nate was asking for help, now it was blaring for me to get moving.

"We need to move if we don't want a fight on the way out."

The ex-soldier scoffed. "You sure you don't want to shoot more people?"

Before I could respond, faint shouting and boots ringing on metal drifted through the mess hall and into the office. Shit. I glanced through the door again; they hadn't snuck anyone into the mess while we were talking, so we still had time to prep.

"Too late."

Both Nate and Valentine looked at me for a moment, confused, before the sound of approaching Triggermen was loud enough for them to recognize.

Nick spun toward the door. "Son of a-" He slipped out onto the walkway outside the office and grabbed one of the discarded submachine guns before hurrying back inside. "You two have a plan?"

Nate looked at me, eyes narrowed. "Shoot them?"

Some variation of that, yes.

"Stay behind me."

The clammer of men pouring into the bottom floor of the mess hall stopped any response either of them may have had.

"Nicky! You still in there you son of a bitch?!" The voice had even more of that strange drawl every other Triggerman spoke with. Is it common around here? No one else I've talked to had it; maybe it's something they do as a part of their gang?

And how is any of that important right now?

Right.

"Yeah I'm still here Skinny."

"The hell do you think you're doing? Got guys comin' in here, shootin' up all my boys. You got any idea how far this is gonna set me back?"

I peered through the circular window down into the cafeteria; there were at least a dozen men on the ground floor, probably more in adjoining rooms, but none on the second floor or walkway outside. That left a lot of options.

"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your two timing dame Skinny."

These people's tendency to talk instead was something I could get used to. If I could get back down to the second floor, I would have perfect cover and as much mobility as I ever wanted.

"Awww… poor little Valentine." This was a new voice, a woman, again with that same strange twang and drawl. "Ashamed you got beat up by a girl? I'll just run back home to daddy, shall I?"

I turned back to the other two. "Stay here, keep them talking."

Valentine nodded. "You know it doesn't need to be like this Skinny, let us go and we'll leave you alone."

I crawled out back onto the walkway and hurried toward the staircase.

"It doesn't gotta be like this Nicky? You trying to walk after killing all my boys? Fat chance, only way you get outta here is in a bag. You and whoever you got in there with ya."

Just as I made it to the stairs Nate decided to complicate things again. "Look… uh, Skinny, he's being serious when he says we don't want any more trouble. You don't need to lose any more people do you?"

My jaw clenched as I came up into a crouch and began down the stairs. He really thinks he can talk his way out of this? Not only was he being delusional, but if we left these people alive, they would be free to come after us later. On top of that, these Triggermen were the best fight I've had since waking up.

"Yeah? And who the fuck are you?"

"I'm one of the people who came here to rescue Nick."

"So you're one of the bastards who did this? And you're lookin' to get let go now?"

"No, I never fired a shot. The other guy I'm here with did all this and he's going to kill you and the rest of your men if you don't let us go." The ex-soldier's tone bordered on pleading.

Pathetic.

I reached the bottom of the stairs and slipped toward the entrance we had used. At least he didn't say where I am. Not that it was much of a comfort; I could feel my irritation creeping again.

"Oh yeah? You're threatening me now?"

"No Skinny", Valentine replied, "He's trying to warn you. I don't want this to go any further south. Skinny, we go back way too far for you to get put in the ground like this."

"He's right, I'm trying to save you and your men."

"C'mon Skinny, there's only a few of 'em. Let's take these bastards out for what they did to your boys!" Hmm, it sounded like whoever he was with might have been the one actually in charge.

"Don't worry Darla, I'm handling this. Skinny's always got things under control. Now that we got a good thing goin, there's no way I'd ever let some private dick shut us down."

I glanced back at the office's window-

Nate was standing it in, holding his rifle up, pointing at the men gathered in the mess hall. He was far enough away they wouldn't be able to see him… was he telling me to aim down at them? Why would I expose myself to that many armed enemies?

"Please just listen to me; enough people have died today, don't you think? I'm going to come out with my hands up. You shoot me, I promise you, the other guy will get Nick out of here one way or another. I'm trying to save your lives."

… You can't be that dumb. You can't be…

My mind was having trouble processing what was going to happen; Nate was about to willingly open himself up to over a dozen men who wanted to put a bullet in him, and in doing so he was forcing me to cover him.

Maybe I should shoot him instead and get it over with.

The thought was enticing, probably more than it should have been, but it felt wrong. It put me in another bind; if I didn't play along, he'd walk out and get shot anyways.

We're back here… I told you not to do this again.

He backed away from the window. "I'm coming out."

The only thing that would keep him alive is the threat I pose.

He's the one coming up with this bullshit plan on the fly.

He's trying to save people.

By putting us all at risk.

There's nothing I can do to stop him at this point. They're clearly nervous; they don't know if what he's saying is true and they aren't calling him on it. Now the only way we all walk out of here is to play along.

… God damn it. Why… Why do I keep covering for this asshole? Why do I keep putting myself in unnecessary danger to keep him alive?

I slipped to the edge of the walkway and took aim. One of the men, standing near the rear of the mess, was dressed in a black suit and hat. A woman in a tattered dress was beside him.

So those must be the two who have been talking.

Nate emerged from the office, rifle dangling on its sling and his hands in the air.

"See? I'm not here to fight anyone." He pointed at me. "That's the guy you have to worry about."

The suited man, Skinny Malone apparently, and his companion turned to me, both scowling. The now customary surprise played out across both of their faces. It was quickly joined with unease and fear.

Every instinct screamed at me to pull the trigger. This is stupid; intimidation tactics have a time and place. Standing in front of a bunch of angry men with guns isn't it.

"You the one who killed all my boys?"

Am I supposed to start talking with this guy now? This was so far outside of my SOP my mind could barely come up with objections.

I gave a hesitant nod, but my trigger finger twitched at the same time. It was almost yearning to be put to work.

"Who are you?"

Perhaps sensing the more Malone tried to talk with me, the more likely I would be to put a round through that ridiculous hat, Nate decided to reinsert himself. "He's working with me to get Nick back to Diamond City."

"You two Brotherhood? What do the Brotherhood want with Valentine?" The gangster's voice had taken on a distinct nervousness. The men around him, and even the woman seemed to share the sentiment.

… There's no way this works.

If the quick look of realization that flashed across the ex-soldier's face was anything to judge by, he'd picked up on that too and found his path forward.

"Our business with him isn't your concern, I'm just trying to keep you from making a mistake and losing the rest of your men."

"How'd you find us?" The nervousness had morphed into full blown concern.

"Skinny… why does any of this matter?" Nate's voice had lost the borderline desperation it had when he first jumped into the conversation. Hell it was almost condescending. "We are willing to leave without any more fighting."

"Maybe I don't want that. Maybe I think the Brotherhood needs to keep its nose out of other people's business. Maybe I send your heads back to them as a message."

"You know you'd lose that fight; the man back there just got finished wiping out a band of Raiders two days ago. Now he walks through your men to get to Nick?"

Malone hesitated, looking back to me before returning his glare to Nate. He was in a corner and he knew he couldn't call the bluff (not that it would matter, he'd still die).

"Nicky."

"Yeah Skinny?"

"How'd you get involved with the Brotherhood."

There was a moment's hesitation before the detective answered. "I keep my clients' business confidential."

The suited man glanced between Nate and I again. "Ah… Dammit… Fine. Get outta here before I change my mind."

… What? My mind had to replay what he said several times before it registered. That worked? How the hell did that work?

The brief look of surprise on Nate's face said he was thinking the same thing. "Good decision."

He and Valentine exited the office and joined me on the second floor. We wordlessly made our way back out of the Vault. I noticed the detective glancing at the Triggermen's bodies along the way.

Despite my best effort to stay focused on potential ambushes or traps, I couldn't keep my mind from boggling at what had just happened. What had just happened? How the hell had Nate bluffed his way through that? I mean- us being a part of the Brotherhood or not didn't matter in a fight, but without knowing much about them, he'd managed to use their fear of the group to get out without firing a shot. I should be irritated, but the emotion couldn't work its way past the confusion and surprise.

And then there was Valentine… besides the obvious. He'd picked up on what the ex-soldier had been trying to do well enough to play along.

We emerged from the subway into the morning light, sun just rising above the jagged, collapsing skyline that had once been Boston.

"So you two care to tell me what's going on?" The detective's voice was guarded, but he couldn't hide the undertone of confusion.

I turned back to the other two as they exited the double doors.

"Ellie asked us to look for you", Nate replied. The ex-soldier sounded dazed, like he was as shocked his ridiculous play worked as I was.

"We don't have enough to pay for something like that." He looked at me. "Especially from people like you."

"We've got a few things we need help with."

"Such as?"

I cut in before Nate could respond. "Later. We need to get back to Diamond City first."

"Damon, he des-"

"When. We. Get. Back."

My voice was clipped, but I couldn't find the exasperation to load. Despite that, Nate still stiffened; he knew what he did would annoy me, probably more than anything he'd done to this point. The smaller man was clearly outright scared of me now, but he didn't know I was more surprised than irritated.

I didn't know how to feel about someone who knew me relatively well being afraid of me. Sure I'd scared plenty of people before, enemies and allies… but Nate being terrified of me hurting or killing him at any point was… uncomfortable.

Despite that, he kept clashing with me. I guess it spoke to how determined he was.

The others in sanctuary had been afraid at first, but I think they became more comfortable over time, especially after the Raider attack. Strange… that fight, and now this one seemed to have the opposite effect on Nate.

"Okay."