A/N: Helloooo and welcome to another episode of Who Needs a Premise that Makes Sense! So, quick story time: this chapter was supposed to go up LAST Saturday (mainly so I didn't have to post two chapters a week apart, guess I made my bed with chapters this long so I have to lie in it) but... instead of doing that I flew to Texas, bought a car, and drove it 1700 miles home. So. Yeah. Anyways that adventure is over and now it's time to resume this one. I've had some extra time to write, so I may post two chapters next month as well, we'll have to see. Until then, sit back, relax, and enjoy another part of our riveting adventure! As always, make sure to leave reviews, even if they're mean (within reason), I love reading your feedback.

Chapter 12: The Good Neighbors

As the sun peaked above the ruined corpse of the city's skyline, I was walking northeast alongside the ex-soldier down a relatively clean road from the stadium. If these were two major towns close by, having a clean and secure path between them would make sense. We came across several squads of guards stationed along the road and I could feel eyes at my back, probably snipers up in the crumbling towers surrounding us. Most of the deployed men watched me suspiciously, but none moved to stop us. Despite the 'security', my eyes still darted from shadow to shadow, looking for potential threats and ambushes; these men patrolled this route every day, but that didn't mean I trusted them.

As we travelled toward Goodneighbor, I noticed most of the branching streets and alleys were blockaded with fencing or piles of rubble. The buildings were either boarded up or guards had taken positions in them. Just like the security at Diamond City, the defenses seemed thorough, probably a function of them failing. Even still, my mind continued on overdrive.

They may not be as helpless against the Brotherhood as I thought; they have numbers and well established fortifications.

I don't know how many fighters the Brotherhood has, and they have technological and air superiority.

Nate remained quiet during the journey. His eyes roamed over the surrounding ruin, but it wasn't with the same intent I had. Generally, when he was quiet for this long, it meant he was thinking about something, was it the city? His son? Me? It still surprises me he was as upset as he was hearing about what happened to me. The ex-soldier hadn't pitied me, he seemed angrier than anything else, but why? I could understand him being concerned for his son, but he wasn't responsible for me. Hell we'd only known each other for just over a week by this point.

And yet, I've talked to him more about my past than anyone else.

Amanda would have been proud.

A small smile snuck onto my face. The IV had spent countless, unbearable hours pestering me, trying to get me to 'open up'. Now that I think about it, her strategy wasn't much different from Ellie's. She hadn't asked many direct questions, she just… talked. I learned a lot about her but, at the time, I still had those memories locked away. Maybe her efforts weren't in vain, I ended up talking about it after all.

It couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes when the guards changed from the uniformly dressed, pseudo sports attire to something closer to the Raiders I'd seen. The armor was more consistent, higher quality, and all black, but it still didn't look like it would stop much. They eyed me with the same suspicion as the Diamond City men, but as with the other guards, they let us pass unmolested. We must have crossed into Goodneighbor's territory.

"These guys are a bit more… aggressive than Diamond City's guards. They're probably going to stop and question us at their front gate. Please don't do anything crazy."

I glanced down at the ex-soldier who was looking at me pleadingly.

He and Valentine got in and out in one piece before.

I wasn't there last time; if these people see me as a threat, they might do something stupid.

I can wait until they do before I retaliate.

Why am I making compromises now? This is how people get killed.

If things start going sideways, I can go back to shoot first, ask questions never.

"Understood."

"Thanks."

As we neared said front gate, several guards exited their posts and flanked us, each with their eyes locked firmly on me. It took a not insignificant amount of willpower to keep my hands away from my rifle.

The gate itself was a 5 meter tall steel door set into an equally tall concrete barrier that stood in front of a collection of taller buildings. I spotted snipers in several of the towers with commanding views of the area around the entrance. Beyond that wasn't visible, but the racket behind the wall was similar to the market in Diamond City.

Three men were waiting at the gate, each wearing something that looked like genuine combat armor. All three had assault rifles similar to mine aimed vaguely in my direction.

"Back so soon", one of them called. "Where's Valentine?"

Nate waved casually. "Left him back at the City, this guy wanted to see what Goodneighbor is all about."

The guard who spoke looked me up and down. "You don't say. So who are you?"

"He's a friend of mine from up north, we met a while back and he helped me get into town."

"Plan on causing any trouble?"

"No, just here to take a look, maybe resupply. The vendors over in Diamond City think we're synths or some shit. Plus you guys probably have better ammo."

His new friend laughed. "Damn straight we do. If you go to Kleo, all of it is hand loaded and I think she even got a shipment of AP bullets. She packs them hot too."

Armor piercing, hand loaded munitions… If whoever this Kleo is had experience, that sounded promising, especially if I was going to be fighting the Brotherhood; it wouldn't punch through their power armor, but considering whatever armor Haylen, the scribe at Cambridge, wore stopped the full metal jacket I had now, it would certainly help.

"I like the sound of that. Where is she set up?"

"If you walk straight back from the door here, her shop is on the bottom floor of the building in the center of town. It's the tallest one here."

"Got it, I think we'll swing by and see what she has for us."

"Alright then, same warning applies to your oversized friend here: start anything, you won't live to see the end of it."

"What if someone else starts something?" I caught him glancing at me. "And we end it?"

"Don't make a mess."

"Fair enough."

With that, the guards stepped aside and the one who had spoken with Nate pulled a smaller door in the gate open and waved us through.

Goodneighbor felt different the moment I ducked through the door. Inside the barrier was a mixture of makeshift structures built similarly to those in Diamond City and facilities set up in the husks of the towers themselves. A few dozen people were milling around in the shadow of those buildings, nothing like the crowd at the stadium, but it looked like there was a lot more to the settlement. Each of the citizens in the area cast wary glances at me, but they weren't the same gawking stares as the people in Diamond City. These were appraisals.

The atmosphere here was so thick, even I noticed; the looming husks of what used to be downtown Boston felt like they were pressing down on my head. There was very little chatter here, and everyone gave each passerby a glare that lasted just a few beats too long to be normal. I caught unnatural bulges in a waistband, the glint of a handgun under someone's jacket, high topped boots thick enough to conceal any number of compact weapons. And those were just the ones trying to hide it. It seemed like every person here had some form of firearm on them. Nate looked a little less out of place with an assault rifle dangling in front of him. Me… well I don't think it's possible for me to look like I belong anywhere.

It was easy to see why Valentine didn't want me along last time: these people all seemed on edge, my presence would only exacerbate that. Considering they're all carrying, I'm probably more of a beacon than a deterrent.

"Yeah it's a bit… different, huh?" The ex-soldier must have noticed me looking around as we made our way into the town.

I nodded.

"Valentine and I didn't have much trouble on our way through."

That was with him, not me.

"Right."

Alarms were going off in my head as we walked toward the prescribed building in the center of town. I could feel eyes on me from everywhere, and, unlike in Diamond City, I knew these ones had hostility written all over them.

Coming here was a bad idea.

It's a little late now.

Just as the alarms reached a shrill pitch, several figures detached themselves from the inside of a half collapsed tower to my left. I reached toward my rifle as they neared. They all wore thick leather or canvas jackets, and what appeared to be extremely worn BDU bottoms with combat boots.

Fire.

I don't know what they want.

I'm no expert in reading body language, but their postures, and their approach reek of hostility. So shoot.

And then things go sideways for sure.

This isn't how I do things.

Does any of this seem normal?

No, that's the problem.

I just grabbed hold of my rifle's pistol grip when Nate came to a stop and I followed suit. The four men did as well, a half dozen meters in front of us, each of them with at least one of their hands on a weapon.

"Don't look like your free ticket is here this time", the one in the center said.

"Hey guys." Nate's voice was guarded, but not quite aggressive yet. "This probably isn't the best time to pick a fight; we're just here to see Kleo."

"Oh yeah? Why?"

"Supplies."

"No dipshit, why isn't this a good time to pick a fight?"

"Are- are you serious?" The ex-soldier cast a pointed glance at me. "Not only do I still have better weapons, but this guy isn't a fan of leaving his… uh… enemies alive."

"You don't need to be worrying about what guns we got."

Sniper. My gaze turned to the buildings around us. There were far too many positions to clear.

Fucking shoot.

If I do that now, and there is a sniper that isn't focused on me, Nate's dead.

If I don't he's dead anyways.

Then it won't matter if I let him try to get out of this.

Nate's eyes flew around our surroundings, but he must have come to the same conclusion as me. His focus switched back to the group in front of us.

"All it looks like is some peashooters to me."

The leader began pulling his firearm. Before it could clear his jacket, my rifle was up, safety off, sights trained on his head. My finger was resting on the trigger, taking up the slack, just about to hit it's break.

"Jamison!" The voice was accompanied by the footsteps of a large group approaching from the opposite direction, but I didn't take my eyes off the man who had his hand halfway out of his jacket, handgun clearly visible now.

"The hell are you doing? Hancock told you to cool it. This guy was here with Valentine too and you're going to go after him now? You want the boss to bury you and your boys?"

I could take care of that for you if you leave us alone for a few seconds.

The man glared at me for a moment before slowly sliding his pistol back into its holster. "Oh so I'm supposed to go along with whatever the fuck that prick wants?"

"If you want to keep living here." The group came to a stop next to the men in front of us. They were wearing armor that probably meant they were guards as well. The dozen of them each cradled a rifle at low ready, half aimed roughly at me, and the rest at the others.

The man still in my gunsight spat at the ground in front of Nate. "Hancock is getting on my goddamn nerves."

"Sounds like your problem."

"Oh yeah? How bout I make it yours too?"

The guard stepped forward and shoved his face into the other man's. "Try."

What the hell is going on here?

For several silent moments, the two men stared each other down. I hated posturing.

I think there's a difference between being a police force and what I do.

This guy is clearly a problem.

It probably isn't just about him; what would other people see if they executed him?

That thinking is what gets people killed.

Different situation.

Whatever.

"Keep that tough guy act up, it's gonna get you killed soon enough", the guard said eventually, sounding more annoyed than anything. "Now get the fuck outta here."

The other man sneered. "Watch yourself."

With that, the small group turned back to the tower they'd come from and stalked away. I kept my sights trained on them until they disappeared from view.

"Don't feel too bad, asshole does that to most newcomers." I lowered my rifle and turned back to the guard. He and the rest of his men had their weapons down and were studying Nate and I with a calculating air, like they were figuring out the best way to fight us if we started shooting. "Where are you two heading?"

Nate seemed to shake himself out of whatever he was thinking. "We're here for some supplies."

"Long as you keep your head down, you should be fine."

As if he wanted to be anywhere but there, the guard promptly turned and headed back in the direction he came, followed by his men. "That shit is becoming too common."

I shifted my gaze from the departing guards to the ex-soldier. "They knew you."

He nodded. "Those asshats did that last time… pretty sure I broke one of his guy's arms." I cocked my head at him and the smaller man smiled. "I never said I couldn't fight, I just don't do it as much as you. Before things could escalate a ghoul came over with probably double the number of guards and basically did the same thing. He talked to Nick like they were old friends, which I guess they are, so that guy probably doesn't like me much."

So not all ghouls are hostile?

"Anyway, I say we get over to the store before someone else tries to pick a fight; a lot of people were eyeing you on the way in."

"Agreed."

We resumed our walk to the prescribed building. It was a mostly intact tower that absolutely dominated the center of the town. With most of the skyscrapers crumbling around it, I could understand why they would want to set up in the high rise: it was probably the most structurally sound building in the area.

Sounds similar to Diamond City's market drifted from the front of the building. As we neared I caught glimpses of a small crowd through the haphazard barricades thrown up in front of the windows that had been blown out.

This is their version of a marketplace. With how tall this tower is, they could fit a lot of vendors in here… this building has to have different purposes.

The pair of guards stationed in front of a large door leading to the building's interior watched us carefully as we approached. Nate gave them a nod as we entered.

Inside was exactly what I expected, which is to say what has become my least favorite place to be. There were 50 or 60 people milling around a cramped space that at one point had probably been an upscale lobby. Not as many as in the stadium, but this area was much smaller.

I scanned the too cramped interior, but oddly enough, none of its occupants took the time to look at me. They all seemed too busy going about their business. That did nothing to temper my unease; this was just as crowded as the market in Diamond City, but these people are clearly more inclined to use violence.

"Kill or be Killed. Guns, Guns, Guns", Nate mumbled just loud enough for me to pick it up over the din of activity. "That's subtle." I followed his gaze to bright yellow signage set over a storefront on the opposite side of the lobby.

"That's probably where we're supposed to be going." I nodded. "Well… I'm guessing you'd rather skirt the edge of the crowd than cut straight through." I nodded again. "Okay", he motioned to his right, along the wall, "giant armored killing machines before beauty." The smile he wore wasn't quite genuine. There was a discomfort that had replaced his fear and anger.

I slipped past him and began making my way around the edge of the large, almost cavernous room. As with the city's market, someone would occasionally bounce off of me, but unlike there, whoever it was shot me an irritated glance before continuing on. These people were certainly different. After a minute and a half of pushing my way around the crowd, we finally arrived at the vendor.

But the… person(?) standing behind the counter wasn't really a person… or I didn't think it was. The patron ahead of me was talking with a bipedal robot. Whatever it was had a single, bright red eye set in the center of a segmented faceplate, OD painted body with three pronged pincers in the place of hands.

What the hell is going on here?

"An Assaultron?" I glanced at Nate as he drew even with me. "What the hell is an Assaultron doing here? Is it security?"

So yes, it's some sort of robot. Security? And it's called an Assaultron? Sounds like a combat unit. I guess it makes sense for an arms dealer to have one.

It wasn't long before the man in front of me slammed a close fist on the table, shout a "to hell with you tin can", and turned to stalk off.

"Hey there strangers, I haven't seen you two around here before." It took me a few heartbeats to realize it was the robot- Assaultron talking, and another few to realize it was talking to us in a strange, raspy, deep approximation of a woman's voice. "Especially not big and sexy there."

What?

I saw the ex-soldier look at me, wide eyed, out of my periphery before his gaze returned to the Assaultron.

"Uh- excuse me, are you… Kleo…?"

"New designation: K-L-E-O 'Kleo'. Fully independent business owner."

"Oh." The smaller man looked as confused as I felt. My problem wasn't that this thing seemed to have some sort of AI, it was that I couldn't tell if this was supposed to be considered unusual. Based on Nate's response it was, but he'd missed 200 years. "So do you… own this place?"

"Absolutely. Everything here is guaranteed to injure, maim, or kill at your discretion. Except me. I only kill when I want to."

"Um… okay, we're just looking for some ammunition."

"Just here to pick up ammo… that's boring." The robot sounded disappointed of all things. "You got gear like that and all you're carrying is that sad little HK33 and a hunting rifle? A big boy like you could use something with a little more… boom."

It- she felt like she was staring through me with that glowing red eye.

"I don't think we have the funds for more boom, sorry. We heard you sell good ammo, so we came by." Between the 150 caps Sturges gave me and the ones Perkins paid for our little rescue mission, we probably had around 350, but I had no clue how much that was worth.

"Oh there are always little favors you can do to work off your debt. Don't worry, I'll be sure to incinerate you nice and quick if you can't pay back. Painless."

I cocked an eye down behind my visor.

"No- no I think we're good on that front. We just need some 5.56x45 and- what does that rifle chamber?"

I glanced at the ex-soldier; he looked even more uncomfortable than he had before. I couldn't lie, I felt a spark of amusement.

"12.7x99."

"Right, 12.7x99. Oh, do you happen to have any armor piercing rounds?"

"Of course I do, baby. Steel penetrator rounds for those ones that just won't go down easy. They're a bit more expensive though."

"For both?"

"You know it."

"Okay- how much per round?"

"10 caps for the smaller ones, 30 for the real stuff." That isn't going to be enough… "Most people can't pay enough to buy that kind of stopping power."

"Yeah, I don't think we can either." Nate looked at me. "Ellie paid us about 250, didn't Sturges give you some?"

"150."

"Right… Sorry, we don't have the money for that, what about regular full metal jacket?"

The Assaultron placed its… hands on the counter and made a strange clicking sound. "You know… I feel like you'd put this ammo to better use than most of these wannabe gangsters around here big guy, so how about I offer you a deal."

Deal? This thing seemed off. I'm not sure cooperating with it would be a good idea. "Deal?"

"Yeah, a very good deal. I'd give you all the ammo you could carry and then some. Just the thought of you using it all gives this girl chills."

I glanced at Nate. He still looked just as bewildered as I felt.

"What deal?"

"I got a lead on a bunch of beautiful supplies to ramp business up: new dies, an automated loader, and more bullets, powder, primer, and casings than a girl like me could ever use. Problem is no one wants to get them for little old me."

"Wait", the ex-soldier said, "two questions: why are you proposing this to us, and how do you know this stuff exists?"

"Oh baby, you aren't the first ones I've asked, like I said, no one else will do it for me. I know this kit exists because one of my runners came across it a little while back, but it's too much for a person to carry. I have a hauler who will do it, but he's no fighter." The robot almost spat the last sentence, like it offended her.

I found myself interested; I couldn't tell if it was the opportunity to explore the city, or it was the chance to get in another fight, but she had me curious.

This isn't the 'safest path forward'.

Yeah, oh well.

"Where is this place."

"So you'll do it for little old me?"

Nate's eyes shot from the robot to me. "We're doing this?"

"I need more information."

"I don't know if I wanna let you in on my secrets until you come on board. Can't have you stealing my toys, I'd have to hunt you down and turn you into piles of ash."

What the hell is with this thing?

"I need more information or I leave."

"And leave this fantastic opportunity behind?"

"Yes."

"Well I guess that would make it the right time to tell you I don't let people who know about this keep the information."

Why does everything here have to threaten you first? All they're doing is giving someone an opportunity to prepare.

"I'll take my chances."

As I began turning from the kiosk, Nate's expression went from confused to alarmed. "Wait, hold on, I don't need to be a part of this; we already have enough people who want our heads don't you think?" He looked at the Assaultron. "We might be willing to take the job on, but it's hard to accept when we don't know where we're going and what we'll be up against."

"In this part of town? Probably Supermutants and the Gunners. Oh I'd love to snap their necks. With my pincers." It clamped its metallic claws together for emphasis. "That would make this girl real happy."

"Okay, can we at least know how far it is?"

"An hour's walk, maybe a bit more."

"So you need someone to escort the hauler there, protect them while they load up, and bring them back."

"That's right baby, nice and simple."

The ex-soldier looked back up at me. "Well it seems like it's either that, or we have someone else with our names on a list."

It isn't like I wasn't on a few dozen of those.

It isn't like I have access to ONI's resources here.

I could just destroy the thing and not worry about it.

And have everyone in the settlement after me. Am I going to kill them next?

I sighed, exasperated. Life is so much simpler when I can just get rid of a problem. "When?"

"Anytime you're ready big man."

This is getting ridiculous: first I have to drag Nate to Diamond city, then fight through a bunker to save Valentine, take a field trip to eliminate Kellogg, get picked up by the Brotherhood and have them hanging over my head, now I'm being forced to run errands for some fucking robot that thinks it's a person.

"Tell your mule we're squared away."

The robot began turning down the hall behind it. "Of course-"

Nate's eyes shot even wider. "What?!"

I waited until the Assaultron left before returning my gaze to the shocked looking smaller man, irritation tinging the edge of my vision. "I am sick of this bullshit. Killing that thing would only complicate life, so if you're afraid of it, we might as well get this over with."

Nate's expression melted back into confusion. "Sick of what?"

"Running all over the damn place. I'm not an errand boy."

A smirk flickered onto his face. "Well… to be fair you're probably the only person around who could have done them all and be annoyed instead of, you know, dead."

"I don't care."

The ex-soldier opened his mouth to say something, but it drifted closed as he grimaced. "Yeah, it definitely seems like there's a lot of 'run here do this'." He offered a small smile. "But hey, at least we're getting closer. We had to wait until the Brotherhood came back anyway."

"I'm not patient."

Nate chuckled. "I got that."

"This isn't something we need to do; I can find ammo and weapons somewhere else."

"I know, but I'd rather not be on an Assaultron's hit list."

He was extremely wary of the thing. It was odd considering how he'd acted around me and the Brotherhood. "How dangerous are they?"

"Oh, they can be pretty bad. That red light on its face isn't its eye, it's a massive laser cannon. They're about as strong and tough as a suit of T-60 power armor. I only saw a few in combat, but I know they're pretty quick too."

If that's all I have to worry about… "Why are you this nervous?"

The smaller man squinted at me. "Should I not be nervous around a literal killing machine? Present company notwithstanding. That one's… different. They all have artificial intelligence, but not like that. It seems unstable."

That's something I could understand, unstable meant unpredictable, and unpredictable things are never safe.

"Then there's always the possibility it tries to kill us afterward anyways." Nate shrugged. "I mean, it clearly doesn't want anyone else knowing about this place. But you're right, killing it would be a problem with the people here." He grew silent for a moment, clearly thinking about this new ridiculous situation. "What if-"

The leadened footsteps began approaching from the back of the Kiosk and the ex-soldier fell silent again as the Assaultron emerged into the storefront.

"My hauler's name is Gerald, he's going to meet you at the front gate in 15 minutes. You're looking for a small factory three miles east called 'Jericho'. It's out of the way and easy to miss, but my scout made it easy on you by propping up a large flag in the entrance."

"Do you have any more specifics on the place", Nate asked, "like a street we should be looking for?"

"My man said it was by a big pre-war food packing plant."

The ex-soldier squinted. "I'm pretty sure I know where that is."

"Good, I'd hate to send you two out just to have you come back empty handed."

Right- that's the concern. This just keeps getting better: not only am I being forced to do this, but we don't even know where this goddamn place is.

The robot reached below the counter and it's pincer re-emerged with three small boxes. "Here's a sample for you big guy, just to show you what you're getting." It set the boxes of, presumably, ammo on the table.

I looked from the Assaultron's laser cannon, apparently, down to the packages. There was no reason not to take them, but this thing is backing me into another corner. If it were regular circumstances, I'd leave or, if it was determined to be a problem, eliminate it. Yeah, the locals would be pissed, but that's their problem, not mine. But these aren't normal circumstances, I can't just leave, and then there's Nate.

All of it really pisses me off.

With a grunt, I snatched the ammo from the counter and turned to leave. Staying there any longer than I had to was only going to make my mood worse.

Well, bringing Nate with me is the right thing to do; if this is a part of that so be it.

Uhuh, that doesn't mean I'm not annoyed.

Making my way back around the small throng of people filling the lobby turned marketplace, I took a deep breath once we were back outside.

"So… you good?"

The ex-soldier was standing beside me, looking up to meet my glare with a mixture of concern and amusement.

That isn't helping.

"Fine."

"Sure didn't seem like it." I didn't say anything in response; he already knew why I was irritated.

After a few seconds of silence he shrugged. "I know, you don't like being backed into a corner. I just think we should limit the number of people trying to kill us. If it- she tries to do it afterward, we can deal with it then."

I almost hoped that would happen. Maybe it was residual anger from the memories that were still crowding the front of my head, maybe it was the situation with the Brotherhood, maybe it was my predicament in general. Whatever the case was, I needed to break something. With my hands.

Maybe this little foray would give me that opportunity.

"You want to grab something to eat? We have a few minutes."

I wasn't hungry, but I did need to recharge a few mags.

"Sure."

10 minutes later, Nate had eaten a bowl full of something that roughly resembled beef and noodles, I had two magazines full of 'Kleo's' AP rounds, and we were heading toward the front of the town again. There were more people near the settlement's entrance which did nothing to relieve the tension building in my chest. Where the hell were those guys from before? Not knowing if they or someone else in the crowd was going to do something stupid was infuriating. It wasn't anything new, but the added irritation of this ridiculous errand made it almost unbearable.

Nate was probably right too: once this was done, I wouldn't be surprised if that Assaultron tried to kill us.

I exhaled through my nose. This is stupid. Why am I leaving that thing alive?

Leaving is still an option.

Yeah, one that doesn't solve the problem.

Suspicious gazes kept drilling into me from all directions and it took every bit of my self control to stay calm. The ex-soldier seemed aware of my discomfort if the subtle glances around us were anything to judge by. The distance he'd kept between himself and me while walking through Diamond City was still there, but the smaller man wasn't paying it much attention. He seemed to be more concerned about what was making me uncomfortable than he was about me.

I noticed a man waiting by the gate as it came into view. Without armor and his only firearm a handgun tucked into his belt, he clearly wasn't a guard. He could have been another resident, but when he saw us and began approaching, it probably meant he was either Kleo's man, or someone about to make a very bad decision.

"Are you Kleo's guys?" The large, plump man had an oddly nasally voice. His eyes were constantly shifting, starting on me, moving to Nate, then something over my left shoulder, and so on. It was subtle, but reading people for signs of aggression was one thing I had ample experience with.

"That's us", Nate replied.

The hauler nodded stiffly. "Good, my Brahmin is waiting outside. I'd like to get moving so we can get back before night. Being outside when it's dark is a bad idea." He turned and lumbered toward the small opening in the gate.

This guy was off. In the same way the Assaultron made Nate uncomfortable, our charge was setting off alarm bells: he was too twitchy, too nervous. He wasn't going to backstab us, he looked like he might jump at his own shadow, but something was already off and we hadn't even started yet.

Outside of the town was… something- some sort of animal. It looked like cattle I'd seen on plenty of colonies over the years, but this thing had two heads.

"Uh… wh-" Nate bit the question off before he got any further. So whatever that thing is, he was just as confused as I was, but asking about it would only make this guy suspicious. For the purposes of this little 'operation', it was the package. "Where is this place? Kleo gave us a general idea, but no specifics." That wasn't strictly true, the ex-soldier knew where we were going, apparently, but the Assaultron hadn't been forthcoming. It was probably his way of covering for the slip up.

"It's in the old Seaport District by a fish packing plant. Dunno if it was put there as cover or what. Weird place to be lookin for gun parts if you ask me."

"Do you know how to get there?"

The man nodded. He trundled over to his pack animal and retrieved a tattered paper map from one of its pouches. On it were two stars and a meandering line drawn in red marker. Most likely Goodneighbor, the objective, and a mapped route.

This is it?

Nate's grimace said he seemed to share my misgivings. "Is this all the information you have?"

"No. No, the scouts told me there would be some trouble along the way. It's why we've been waiting for an escort."

"Trouble?" The ex-soldier couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice. "Any idea what that trouble might be?"

"Dunno, they didn't say, but only two of 'em made it back."

"Out of…?"

"Five."

For- this 'mission' is fucked and we haven't left town. What kind of amateurs don't do a threat analysis?

The ex-soldier frowned. "Can we talk with them before we leave? It would be easier if we knew what we were dealing with."

"Can-" The plump man shook his head. "They're out looking for more supplies."

Nate looked at me, the same frustration I felt playing out across his face. "The alternative might be safer."

No shit. "I offered."

He sighed, turning back to the hauler. "Hey friend, we aren't too comfortable with this, we're going to talk to Kleo and see if we can get in touch with those scouts."

The other man's eyes shot wide. "No! Wait! Please don't!" He grabbed Nate's shoulder. "Look- I don't want any trouble, I'm already in hot water with her- if I can't do this… I don't want to think about what will happen to me."

"If she wants this to happen, we need better information."

"That crazy thing won't give you any, she just wants whatever she asks to get done. She doesn't care if people die to do it, hell- I mean- I've watched her kill people herself."

That explains a lot. And this guy isn't nervous about us, he's scared of Kleo.

The ex-soldier extricated himself from the hauler's grasp. "What? She's… oh. Oh." An odd smirk slowly formed as he thought. "She sounds like a mob boss."

"Well, see, there was this guy named Skinny Malone who used to run a pretty big gang here. She ran him outta town a while ago."

"Yeah… we had a- run in with him a few days ago." He glanced up at me. "I think we may want to play along then."

Play along? Under these circumstances, cutting ties and, if need be, eliminating the problem sounds like a much better solution.

"Why?"

"Because at this point, it sounds like if we do anything else, we'll have her, the town, or both after us."

"As opposed to whatever is between us and this factory."

The ex-soldier nodded. "I get 'better the devil you know', but that may not be the case here."

"We shouldn't be involved with this at all." I shook my head. "I don't care about a gun smuggling gang."

"Yes", Nate replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "well not all of us have the luxury of ignoring casual threats on our lives."

Stop talking about it and just get this over with.

"Fine."

I trudged away from Goodneighbor's front gate toward the map's path.

"Wait, what?" The hauler's nervous, high pitched voice was starting to grate on my nerves the same way the rest of this situation was.

"Come on", came Nate's reply, "we'll get you there." The two men began walking after me followed by whatever that ridiculous looking pack animal was.

"Are you sure about that?"

"... Yeah."

After a half hour of plodding through the crumbling husk of Boston, I understood the constant detours our 'employer's' scouts had marked in the path. The city's collapsed skyline and massive piles of rubble combined with the pack animal's limited pace and dexterity confined us to the route drawn on our charge's map. At least the scouts had drawn it with that in mind… only thing done right about this damn venture.

That itself was another problem: anyone looking to ambush a caravan heading for the port area would know that and be set up along the trail. Aside from a few feral ghouls, nothing had threatened us. So far. Even so, I was a few dozen meters out in front of the other two, Nate staying with the hauler to provide whatever protection he could. I cleared as much of the surrounding cityscape as possible, but with the number of places Raiders, Gunners, or any other group could be hiding, all it took was a little trigger discipline and the other two would be dead.

Hopefully those two high risk locations were full of Supermutants; they at least seemed stupid enough to shoot at whatever walks into their gunsights.

Wait… why am I using myself as a target?

Because I won't die. Probably.

This is stupid… I should have left, to hell with that thing.

Unfortunately, because of how slow the pack animal was, and how many positions I had to clear, we barely covered three kilometers in the half hour since we left Goodneighbor.

Now, according to the map, we had about a kilometer without any more diversions. That was good and bad. We could make decent time without having to constantly change directions, and I had good sightlines. But if anyone wanted to ambush a group of slow moving targets, they would be hiding in the crumbling buildings around us. Then my sightlines wouldn't matter.

My unease grew as we continued down what was essentially a thousand meter long kill box. I was usually on the opposite side of this; I was the one setting the ambush, I was the one waiting for sitters to enter my kill zone. That meant I knew where to look, but with the literal thousands of places I could stage an attack from, many of which were impossible to clear, it was useless. My best bet was to check the more conventional locations like rooftops or windows with commanding views and get out of death row as quickly as possible. Detours weren't an option, unfortunately. Too many unknowns.

The next question was, do I fall back to the other two? Even in the relatively short time I spent on Fourier's squad, I learned the value of tactical spacing, especially while operating in small groups. Even for SPARTANs. Not only does it prevent everyone from being killed at once, but it deters the attacks in the first place. When an enemy knows they can't eliminate their targets at once, they tend to hesitate.

On the other hand, the easiest way to protect my vulnerable charges was to stay close enough to physically do so.

Maybe I should trust Nate to handle himself.

I glanced back at the soldier, trundling alongside the hauler and his pack animal. He was even more uncomfortable if his stiff stride and constantly shifting aim was anything to go by.

I shouldn't need to; this whole situation is bullshit.

Too late to do anything about it now.

We could still leave.

Nate wouldn't do that willingly. And it would be pretty terrible to leave that guy out here with his pack animal alone.

And what happens if he and Nate get killed anyway?

After another few moments of back and forth, I decided physical protection would be more valuable here than potential prevention. If we were attacked by Raiders or Supermutants, they probably wouldn't have the forethought to be afraid of retaliation from a surviving ambushee. Hell, I haven't fought any Gunners yet, they may be just as inept.

I knelt in the shadow of a mostly collapsed building and waved the other two forward.

"What's up", Nate asked as they reached me. His voice was just as stiff as his back.

"Stay close."

"You too?"

I met the smaller man's gaze. He was nervous. Very nervous. Nervous people make mistakes, even experienced ones. "Use me for cover if need be."

My companion shot me an odd look. I wasn't fond of the idea, but he needed some form of reassurance, and if we were ambushed, I was a lot more likely to survive a gunshot than him. The ex-soldier's expression drifted back to neutral and he paused for a moment, taking several slow, deep breaths. He must have realized how jumpy he was. "Thank you."

I nodded.

After doing another scan of the countless vantage points around us, we resumed the painfully slow march down the longest funnel I've ever willingly stayed in. The eerie silence, only broken up by gravel crunching under our feet and the courier's labored breathing, did nothing to ease my apprehension.

Labored breathing? From a courier after a few klicks?

Now I thought about it, there were several things that didn't seem right about our charge. Other than the lack of fitness, which was odd for someone who made a living out of walking, anyone who survived any time in hostile environments develops certain habits. The first, and most important, is to have as much information as possible. In this case that would be pathing, obstructions, threat analysis, and a detailed plan for alternate routes. I would never set up a convoy with this little preparation. I've never planned one before, but I've spent enough time blowing convoys up to know how good ones are organized.

Not only was this guy inexperienced, but he had no exposure to combat situations.

Stop!

I froze mid-step. Something wasn't right. I swept my rifle over the buildings around us once again, brain screaming at me.

Someone was watching.

This sensation was different; it didn't just feel like I was being watched… There wasn't anything that jumped out; no markers, no carefully arranged blockade or obvious cleared debris. But it felt like the towers were closing in around me.

I held up a closed fist and Nate's footsteps came to an immediate stop, the hauler following suit a moment later with his animal.

As silence settled back over the destroyed cityscape, I strained my ears to pick up any clue. I could have turned the gain up on my helmet's speakers, but for some reason, it had trouble dampening the sound of gunshots at high volume. One would be irritating, multiple could be disorienting.

Nothing.

I waved the others toward the relative safety of the building to our right. As they began moving, I mirrored them, trying to provide at least some protection. Whoever was watching would know I was spooked. Without the element of surprise, they had to do damage before we were out of LOS, or withdrawal.

And a muzzle flash from a third story window a hundred meters ahead just preceded a round crashing into my shields.

That answers that question.

Another flash from the same spot went off and I returned fire as the round whipped over my left shoulder. I placed a trio of shots into the darkness where the offender's head should be.

More gunfire poured from the surrounding windows a split second later, at least a dozen shooters peppering the area with small caliber rounds. Their fire was inaccurate, but still concentrated. This wasn't Supermutants or Raiders. Were these Gunners?

Nate and Gerald's footsteps just reached the side of the building as I sent four more rounds down range into two different shooting perches.

Occasionally, a shot would hit me, it was maybe one out of every 20, but with the volume of gunfire pouring from that building, and now the one across from it, my shields began draining quickly. I couldn't stay here.

I sprung for the building the other two were taking cover in, just in time to see the pack animal trundling toward it take a barrage of rounds. One of it's heads was torn apart, splashing blood, fragments of skull, and what was left of its brain over its other head. In the next instant, one of its forelegs was blown off and it collapsed to the ground, remaining head keening before it too was caught by gunfire.

Something much larger boomed from further down the street and high caliber round skimmed off of my depleting shields just over my left shoulder.

I slid to a stop next to Nate who was crouched in a blown out window, rifle propped on the frame. He couldn't see down the street far enough to return fire, but at least he was ready if needed.

These guys were organized and whoever set up the ambush knew what they were doing. Suppress the targets with small arms fire and dispatch them with the heavier weaponry. It was a simple strategy that had been around for as long as war. It meant you only needed a few skilled combatants. As long as the rest knew how to pull a trigger and reload, anyone on the other end of the ambush would have a lot of trouble getting out in one piece.

Unless they were good enough to anticipate it.

As I passed behind the ex-soldier, I tapped him on the back and we moved into the building where our charge was huddled against a wall, eyes wide, staring back out at his pack animal. Or what was left of it.

"We're done here", I called over the constant gunfire.

The terrified man looked from his mule to me. "Wh- we can't. We haven't gotten the supplies."

"You're welcome to try getting by that on your own." I could have cleared the ambush given enough time, especially now I knew where they were and I didn't have the animal slowing me down. But I was over this.

No… that wasn't right. I was over this before we left the storefront. Now I was over the idea Kleo might come after Nate and I. If I need to, I'll handle that before things get dangerous.

I walked past him toward the opposite corner of the building. Hopefully they wouldn't be smart or well equipped enough to set up contingencies on possible escapes. If they were, we would either be moving through the buildings or shooting our way out.

A hand grasped my left brace and I whipped my head around to see the portly man holding onto my arm, trying to pull me back.

Anger flared. What the hell did this guy think he was doing? He may be afraid of Kleo, but he should probably be more afraid of the people actively shooting at him. It didn't matter to me. If the guy wasn't going to listen to the people hired to keep him safe, he could get himself killed.

I ripped my arm from his grip, snatched his forearm, twisting it behind his back, and forced him to the floor. He cried out in surprise and pain as he found himself on the ground, the better part of half a ton pinning him in place.

"Never touch me", I hissed, kneeling over the courier.

He responded with a wordless cry as the gunfire slowly dropped to a trickle.

"I will bring you back to Goodneighbor. If you want to die, feel free to try your luck." I purposely left the statement ambiguous as I released his arm and stood. Nate was waiting beside us, looking on with a carefully guarded expression. That he didn't interfere spoke volumes about how he felt about this situation. He was probably just as frustrated as me.

Getting shot at tends to do that.

The hail of rounds stopped and silence bloomed across our small portion of the city. It was almost jarring.

We needed to get moving; if these people were determined enough, they would be moving to intercept. I started back toward a collapsed portion of the rear wall allowing light to stream into the destroyed building's lobby. The labored sounds of Nate helping the hauler to his feet followed me as I cleared the immediate area outside our temporary haven. It was another street, this one littered with mounds of rubble and a building collapsed across the road a half klick back toward Goodneighbor.

Is this what most of the other streets in the area look like?

I'd seen plenty of blockages and obstructed streets while picking my way through the city, but nothing like this. If that route was the only obvious path to the docks from the two primary population centers here, of course any competent group of bandits would set up ambushes along the way.

Maybe I should leave Gerald out here. He and Kleo sent me into a surefire ambush. I had no interest in returning to Goodneighbor, but even after this I doubt Nate would abandon the courier and head back to Diamond City. Damn bleeding heart.

Once the other two had joined me, I eased out into the debris strewn street, hugging the building's north side. With the ample cover and obstructed sightlines, there were fewer available perches, but it didn't mean they wouldn't have anyone waiting.

We moved relatively quickly, putting as much distance between ourselves and our attackers as we could. It was still painfully slow. The courier was resistant, every so often complaining about going back empty handed, but it was only to Nate, and low enough he thought I might not hear. The ex-soldier never responded, only plodded along beside the portly man, aim sweeping the buildings around us.

Yeah, he definitely didn't take well to being shot at.

There were no signs of our attackers over the next half hour. We rejoined the original path a kilometer later. By that point, the hauler had grown quiet. He made me nervous; he wasn't a real courier which meant their normal man probably got killed. On top of that, he was damn near petrified of Kleo.

Scared people make mistakes too. If he thought Kleo was a more immediate threat than me, he might make the mistake of trying to go through with the Assaultron's threat.

I guess the question at this point is whether or not he's more scared of me than Kleo. Probably not. That meant there was an outside possibility they try to ambush Nate and I too. If they have people posted to watch us, they would know we were returning, not only without the supplies, but without their pack animal.

All of that in mind, I was operating on overdrive, clearing as many positions as I could while we trudged through the corpse of a city. It was still a near fruitless endeavor, but in the one in a thousand chance I caught someone preparing an ambush, it was worth it.

The city's unnerving silence made me wonder just how densely populated it is. From what I've seen the metropolitan area was around 20 miles across. If the largest settlement was Diamond City, somewhere in the low four digits, there was a lot of dead space in the city.

A lot of places for someone to hide.

We made good time and within another half hour, we were only a kilometer and a half from Goodneighbor.

And that's when my mind began screaming at me once again.

This time was different. There was no kilometer long kill box. We were heading toward a T-junction about 200 meters ahead where we would turn left (south). The cover was just as bad though. There was very little by way of debris scattered over the road. I slowed to a stop, scanning the buildings ahead.

I didn't have to signal Nate to follow suit this time. I heard his footsteps come to an abrupt halt along with the more labored march of the 'courier'.

The building at the head of the junction was mostly intact. It had a commanding view of the road ahead of us and it would be the most obvious place for any shooters to wait. Problem with that is it wouldn't matter if I knew they were there. Unless I could call in an airstrike or firemission, my only option was to wait for someone in the building to take a shot and hope it didn't kill Nate.

And unless I missed something, I didn't have access to TACCOM.

Footsteps started up behind me once again. It was the measured gait and lighter steps of the ex-soldier. I glanced back toward the two men lagging behind. Nate was likewise studying our surroundings, moving toward the side of the road, probably to take cover, and-

My heart leaped as I twisted, wrenching my rifle around, and sighted on Gerald. I squeezed the trigger and put a bullet through his neck as the bastard levelled his handgun at the ex-soldier's back. The report exploded into the thick silence that had draped itself over the immediate area.

The moment the round left the barrel, I knew I missed my mark. The projectile severed his carotid artery and tore his trachea in half before blowing most of the meat off the back side of his neck.

But it missed the man's spine.

As he fell to the ground, the hauler's finger tightened around his handgun's trigger and a second shot burst into the early evening air. I watched in slow motion as the round erupted from Nate's chest, just under his left collarbone.

The image of blood pouring from the other man as he collapsed, grasping at the wound barely had time to register when something extremely powerful slammed into the side of my head. My shields caught whatever it was, but another shot would drop them.

My legs coiled, and just as they unloaded, driving me toward my wounded companion, a second round drilled into my back and set off the alarm in my helmet.

Two shooters.

I covered a dozen meters, halfway to Nate, when a third shot missed just over my left shoulder, but the following one crashed into my back. The gel layer pulsed to help dissipate the impact, but it still knocked me off balance and I had to scramble to keep my footing.

Before any more shots could ring out, I reached Nate, laying on the ground, blood pouring from the chest wound. I barely broke stride as I scooped him off the rubble strewn asphalt and turned the dying hauler's head into an explosion of blood and bone under an armored boot.

Motherfucker.

I drove my feet into the street hard enough to splinter pavement and dove into the nearest building. Another round cracked by me as I disappeared into the relative safety of the crumbling tower.

The ex-soldier, most likely already in shock, groaned as I slid to a stop in the dark interior of our temporary cover. We weren't out of danger by any means, but if I didn't treat that wound, it wouldn't matter.

I set the smaller man down, holding his back off the ground with my left arm and pulled the rifle sling over his neck with my right. I set the rifle aside and began rummaging through his satchel. It felt like an eternity, searching for the medical supplies he carried while blood poured from the wound, soaking his shirt, jacket, pants, and ground below.

Eventually, I pulled out gauze, a small bottle of alcohol, one of the Stimpaks, and a syringe I think was MedX.

"Sorry", I muttered as I unscrewed the bottle's cap and poured some of the contents over Nate's chest. I placed a patch of gauze on the broken floor behind him and poured more disinfectant over it. The smaller man groaned again as I lowered him to the ground and ripped his shirt open. The bullet hole was high and to the left; it looked like the round had missed his heart and lungs, but the amount of blood he was losing… would a Stimpak fix that?

Only one way to find out.

I pulled the needle shield off of the syringe and injected whatever it was into his chest just below the wound. No sooner had the plunger bottomed in the syringe than tissue within the wound started shifting.

What the hell?

No time. Blood was still flowing from the wound; if he continued losing it like this, healing the bullet hole wouldn't matter. I grabbed the gauze and poured what was left of the alcohol over it before wrapping it tightly around his chest. To keep it protected, I tore a long strip from his clean pant leg and tied it over the damp fabric.

With the wound dressed as well as it could be, I snapped the cap off of the MedX cartridge and gave him another shot just over the gauze.

As much as I needed to move, I couldn't risk carrying the smaller man anywhere until the wound clotted. I placed my left hand over his chest and pressed to help staunch the bleeding.

How long will that Stimpak take? Will it close the wound entirely? Or just fix some of the damage?

"What… what the hell- did that asshole… did he shoot me?"

My gaze shot from the wound to Nate's paling face. His eyes were wide and glazed, but he was awake.

"Yes, he missed your heart by a few inches; you should be fine."

"I should be-" he grimaced and a quiet moan interrupted the rest of the sentence. "Only you would tell me I should be fine with a hole in my chest." He shifted under my hand. Apparently that was a bad idea because as he did the smaller man gasped. He grabbed my wrist with his left hand as his eyes screwed shut. "This really fucking hurts."

I cocked my head. "You were shot."

"Your bedside manner sucks", he spat, eyes still squeezed closed.

Never practiced.

"There are at least two snipers somewhere to the west. I don't know if or how many more of Kleo's people are after us."

The ex-soldier slowly opened his eyes and offered a weak, amused smile. He took a deep, shaking breath. "So we need to get moving."

I lifted my hand and, to my surprise, there was no blood seeping through the makeshift bandage.

Stimpaks huh?

"You need to be careful; don't reopen the wound."

"Right… What did you give me? I- my chest is going… numb."

"MedX."

"Oh. Well… that explains… why I'm not still unconscious." His speech was slow and uncertain, but he seemed aware enough.

I helped my companion to his feet and retrieved his discarded rifle. As Nate took his first step, the smaller man stumbled and grabbed my forearm for support.

Should I carry him?

It would probably be safer to stay here and combat ready than risk being ambushed again without the ability to respond.

"Are you able to walk?"

He took a few deep breaths before releasing my arm and nodding. I handed him his rifle, which he slipped stiffly over his neck, and began forward slowly, the ex-soldier placing a hand on my back to steady himself.

This was always a bad idea… I knew I should have just destroyed that goddamn robot and been done with it. This was a set up from the start. And now we're stuck. I can't risk leaving the building with Nate, he would be a sitting duck, and I can't risk leaving Nate here to hunt down the snipers. The only option is staying put until nightfall, give Nate some time to recover, and move to a better position. We couldn't stay on the bottom floor though, I need a few less points of egress to worry about.

Once I'm able to move Nate to a more secure position… I'm going to show 'Kleo' and her subordinates why you don't fuck with a SPARTAN. Especially one with my… particular disposition.

Unfortunately, it's a lesson they won't get the chance to use.

Maybe it will prevent something like this happening again with someone else.

I doubt anyone will want my 'services' after this.

Or maybe a lot of people will.

Doesn't matter either way; I'm not here to make a business of taking odd jobs.

After several painstaking minutes of Nate shuffling behind me, we settled on the third floor of what seems to have been an office building at some point. Almost as soon as the ex-soldier slid into a sitting position inside a store room, he was out again. I took the opportunity to eat and drink, but I wasn't able to relax any. Not only did I have an unknown number of the Assaultron's men to worry about, but the nagging concern for my companion's wound kept tugging at the back of my mind. The Stimpak seemed to have done it's job, but it was impossible for me to know for sure.

The emotion was… new.

I never had anyone to worry about, not really.

After I finished eating, I scouted the floor and found two other access points besides the service stairs we used: another staircase set in the opposite corner of the building, and a defunct elevator shaft.

Once I checked on Nate, who was still unconscious, I found a good vantage point near the front of the room and settled down for another round of guard duty.

… I really hate waiting.

"Can I ask you something", the smaller man muttered quietly.

I could appreciate he was trying to stay quiet, but we were still in a precarious situation; being unable to hunt down those shooters means they might have been able to track us. And who knows how many other people that Assaultron had out here looking for us now. This isn't the first time he's used those exact words, and it never seems to lead anywhere I want to go.

But he also won't let it go until he gets some sort of answer.

Dammit… I turned from the blown out window with a commanding view of the street and front entrance of our new temporary shelter to my companion. "What?"

He looked unsure of himself. The ex-soldier opened his mouth before closing it and frowning for a moment. "Have you- have you ever left someone behind in the field?"

"Technically yes."

The smaller man squinted at me. "What does that mean?"

"I left a squad of… regs behind to finish the mission. A few of them didn't make it."

"Did you know they would die?"

What is this about? "Why?"

"I-" he stopped and shrugged, a sharp wince following what was probably a stab of pain in his chest. The ex-soldier reached up to rub his shoulder. "I've had to. We got caught in a town square while on patrol. Another platoon was in trouble, out in the open." His eyes slowly drifted into the same distant stare I'd seen countless times from other regs. "Mine was ordered to retreat. We… we left them there. 45 men and women. No survivors." A small shudder wracked the smaller man's body as he turned his clouded gaze on me. But it wasn't me he was looking at. "That was the first time I questioned what I was doing. I was a good soldier, I followed orders but… that didn't do anything to chase the images of this one guy away. He and I looked at each other while my platoon was pulling out, just as a bullet caved in his left eye and blew it out the back of his head." He paused for a moment, something akin to pain contorting his face. "We abandoned them, just… left them there to die." The ex-soldier's stare finally returned to the present. "Two soldiers in my platoon committed suicide that night, one of them from my squad. It was dead in the middle of our worst deployment, near the end of the war. A couple others were booted after a few screws got knocked loose. One guy almost beat a Lieutenant to death who got in his face about… I don't remember what. I knew that was it for me too; the moment I broke out of the Zone and started imagining I traded positions with that guy, it was time for me to get out."

Despite my efforts to focus on our surroundings, I found myself intrigued. It was the first time he'd talked specifically about his military experience. It was so unlike anything I've been through, what with working alone the majority of my time.

The ex-soldier had fallen silent, searching my visor for something. Did he want some input from me? I couldn't relate to what he was saying in the slightest; our wars were nothing alike, and our roles were just as different.

"I didn't re-up after that. I couldn't." A small, sad smile twitched across his lips. "It's a bad joke that I really only got to spend, what, two years living my dream with Nora. With Shaun. After all of that. Maybe it's karma… who knows."

Karma? I don't know about that. Karma hasn't done anything for me, and I've got a pretty fucking big check to cash.

"Why are you telling me this?"

The smaller man took a deep breath. "You were me, I was that guy... but you saved me."

I cocked my head. "You aren't a SPARTAN."

"What", he asked, suddenly agitated, "does that mean I'm any less responsible for saving someone's life? Or not saving them?"

"In some situations. I said I'd get you to the Institute."

"And I promised to protect my brothers and sisters."

This was irrational; he knew just as well as I did if I had been a regular person we'd both be dead. There are things normal humans can't do.

However, while it was completely alien to me, I could understand why he was so emotional about the memory. It was the same as the ODST's trying to stare holes in my armor while their squadmates lay dead on the floor of the Pelican. That kind of camaraderie was something Fourier and his squad spent far too much time trying to beat into me. Constant 'team building', like making me eat each meal with them, what seemed like daily 'conversations' with them. Hell, any training I did, I had to do with them.

I smiled. That last one turned into a game: how far did I have to push to make them give up? I got the rest of the squad to tap out twice, once during an hours long PT session, and another during hand to hand drills. They began staggering their time with me during those combat drills after that, which is cheating in my mind.

"That isn't something you understand is it?" The question wasn't accusatory. If anything, it was a bit sad.

I shrugged; I could understand, but I couldn't sympathize.

The ex-soldier searched my visor for… something, even more intently than before, but I still couldn't tell what. "Even when you left those other soldiers behind?"

What was he looking for? He already knew the answer was no (though, he didn't know about the volatile relationship between ODST's and SPARTANs).

I cocked my head. "What are you asking?"

"What am I asking?" Nate asked it as if he'd never heard those words before. "What do you mean?"

"You know my answer, what are you looking for?"

"I- I don't really know…" He blinked slowly. "I guess this all just brought back some… bad memories."

My internal clock started sounding and I switched my HUD to NV to do another scan of the area. Nothing. It was dark enough to give me visual cover; I'll be able to slip into Goodneighbor without being spotted.

"Stay here, stay out of sight. I'll be back in a few hours."

The ex-soldier's face twisted into a mixture of pain, frustration, and sadness for a moment. He was probably upset with the sudden change of subject, but the reminiscing could wait until after I dealt with the present threat.

Eventually he closed his eyes for a few seconds and took a deep breath. "You're going to kill them", he said solemnly. It clearly wasn't a question.

"Yes."

He sighed. "I guess I can't blame you, they set us up." My companion's expression changed again. "Give that damn robot a bullet for me then."

I nodded.

A/N: Is this a filler arc? This feels like the beginning of a filler arc. No, this is not filler; I don't have the time or patience to write that shit so worry not, I shall not 'Bleach' you in this story. Important things happened here for those who noticed, and more important things will happen in next week's chapter as well beyond, ya know, killing shit (which we're finally back to, yay!). There are also repercussions down the road for what is going to begin happening too, but I'll let you figure that out when it comes. No need to ruin the surprise! I will see everyone next week (why am I doing this to myself?).

Next Chapter: June 5th, What I do Best