A/N: Well hellooooo and here we are again with the latest installment of our journey across time and realities. I'm trying to keep things focused as best as I can, but there are enough elements involved now and... it's becoming difficult; we've got the BOS, Gunners, Institute, both MCs' personal objectives (and issues), Kleo, Sanctuary, and now the kids. I feel like I'm doing okay thus far by keeping them chronologically consistent (and of course it makes sense to me since I'm the one writing the damn story), but if you all feel like something is getting lost in the shuffle, let me know. As always, I hope you enjoy, and leave your feedback!

Chapter 17: Into the Breach

As much as I wanted to draw parallels between some of the glassed planets I'd been on and the Glowing Sea, I couldn't. Aside from this being on Earth, the heavily irradiated detonation zone was a completely different kind of foreboding. The scale was different, obviously, this was only a couple hundred square kilometers, the Covenant glassed worlds, but plasma bombardment was much… cleaner. The powerful ventral beams on every large Covenant warship destroyed and sterilized everything before melting it down into molten metal and rock which hardened into semi transparent, brittle vitrified glass. You could almost call it clinical.

This wasn't.

There was plenty of glass around, but most of it was in smaller pieces, broken up and scattered throughout what was left of the city suburb. Instead of a glass surface, most of the ground was broken, gouged by debris blown away from the epicenter, disrupted by the blast itself, and scarred from centuries of powerful storms. What buildings were left were crumbling husks half buried in the sickly ground, flooded by irradiated ground water, and almost unrecognizable.

The highway we were following, I-95, was the only infrastructure that had survived the blast, even in part. We wouldn't go more than a few hundred meters without it breaking off, either crumbled into nothingness, or so damaged it was impossible to follow. Whenever that happened, I had to rely on Nate's knowledge of the area to get us back on track. The ex-soldier had a good sense of direction, and he clearly knew where he was going, but the detours set us back, and we had a schedule to keep.

I talked it over with Nate as we began our journey into the hellscape that had been the southern edge of the city. I'd be combat effective for around 50 hours. The Vertibird dropped us off about 20 klicks north of the hills this Institute doctor was hiding in. That meant a 40 kilometer round trip with no deviations, but as we were finding out, it would be safe to add a 20 klick buffer to that. While his armor had rudimentary NVS, Nate would probably need to sleep for at least a few hours that night. All of that meant we would need to average almost two kilometers per hour, giving us time to search for the doctor and get our information from him. It's painfully slow, but considering the terrain we'd be crossing, potential threats, and the fact that we couldn't eat or drink for risk of radiation poisoning, that will end up being a difficult ask.

As we found another unbroken section of I-95, I paused my constant scanning of the surrounding desolation to glance at the ex-soldier. He seemed to be doing alright in that armor, but how would he hold up after two days with no food and water. As… extremely unpleasant as it is, this won't be the first time I've had to suffer that.

The first time was at Mendez's direction during training after I'd gotten, I'll call it revenge, on one of the DI's during hand to hand drills a few months after my augmentation procedures, shortly before my first deployment. The man had been especially harsh after I was split from Gamma company. I didn't know why, but once I got the opportunity, I paid him back in full. It was supposed to be a technical session; apparently there had been a history of cadets accidentally killing instructors while adjusting to their augmentations.

Well, I egged him on during the hour and a half long drill, subtly at first, small things like giving him a smile every time I 'won' a round (it was essentially every round which didn't do much for his mood). As the DI grew more and more irritated, I began picking up the pace until he was struggling. Eventually, he grew frustrated enough to pull a cheap shot, 'accidentally' punching me under the jaw after I pulled out of a kick that would have probably broken a few ribs. It hadn't hurt, by that point my body was well adjusted to the procedures, but it, in my mind, justified what happened next.

When we squared up for the next point, he immediately swung again, trying for the same targeted strike, just under the right side of my chin. It isn't a bad place to hit; if you do it right, it can put most on their ass. Well I guess he forgot he was fighting a SPARTAN.

Before his fist was halfway to my jaw, I struck back in the exact same spot. The difference was, my punch lifted the man off of his feet and he was unconscious before he hit the deck. I hadn't hit him too hard, but I found out later the blow had shattered his jaw and gave the DI one hell of a concussion.

Even Ambrose had something to say to me about that one. It had something to do with being responsible with the strength I've been given. I didn't care at the time, that asshole had been torturing me for the better part of four years. He'd put me in the infirmary a few times, I was just returning the favor.

Well… I started caring after I spent two and a half days in a 'real life sim' without any supplies. I don't think Mendez would have risked on of his men's lives like that, but I had no way of knowing for sure.

My mind returned to the present. I doubt Nate has had any experience like that.

Despite everything, the ex-soldier seemed calm, difficult as it was to tell through his armor. He was good at that. I could credit his decade and a half of active duty, but I'd seen enough experienced soldiers panic to know there's more to it than that. I'll just have to be ready to accommodate when he begins fading.

I caught movement out of my periphery at our 10 o'clock. When I looked, whatever it was had disappeared.

Nate froze as I held up a fist. "Potential contact, 20 meters to our 10."

After a short scan of the area, we spread out, just in case. I appreciated the ex-soldier didn't need to be told.

A split second later, my companion swore and scrambled, or waddled, backward just as the ground beneath his feet erupted in a cloud of flying dirt. My aim snapped to the base of the dust cloud and I opened fire at the same time as the ex-soldier.

Whatever had tried to attack Nate hissed and writhed in the dirt as rounds impacted. A half dozen shots later I called, "cease fire!"

The dust slowly settled and what came into view was… more confusing than anything I'd seen in a long time. The… creature was maybe a meter and a half long with a black, flat, oval shaped body, large claws protruding from its front and a massive stinger on its tail.

"What the fuck is that? It looks like a giant Scorpion", Nate shouted.

A Scorpion? What's a Scorpion?

I began stalking toward him, rifle trained on the dead creature-

And before I made it more than a few strides, a dull rumbling began beneath my boots. I leapt away as another one of the things exploded from the sickly looking dirt.

How did- I opened fire again as I kept moving toward the ex-soldier. Neither creature emerged until we were moving. That doesn't make sense, most ambush predators attack when their prey is stationary. And how did they know where to pop up?

Another one burst from the ground just behind me and I dodged to the side as its stinger stabbed the air where my lower back had been an instant before.

Vibrations?

Footsteps.

I put a trio of rounds into the third creature's face (or what I assume is its face based on the eyes) and froze as it collapsed to the greenish dirt.

"They're tracking the vibrations from our footsteps", I said as I swapped magazines.

"Footsteps…" The ex-soldier looked around. "I-95. Let's get on the freeway. It will be harder for them to get through the asphalt."

I nodded and we ran, or half ran, toward the relatively intact road. As we did, one of these giant 'Scorpions' would pop up every few steps. By the time we got off of the soft ground, there were at least a dozen of the bastards chasing us. It took the better part of a minute and two magazines to put them all down.

"Okay", Nate panted through his helmet's distorted speakers, "I don't know what the hell is happen, but why are we being chased by scorpions a hundred times too big?"

I still don't know what scorpions are, but from the looks of it, they're some sort of insect or arachnid. Even in the most extreme circumstances the largest of either I've seen was maybe a half meter across. These things were three or four times that, and that was without including their legs. As far as I'm aware, radiation can't do that; it will cause mutations, but the vast majority of those end up killing who or whatever they happen to. Maybe over the course of several hundred years, that ended up here? I don't know enough about biology to make a guess.

"Whatever they are, they're sensitive to ground vibrations, and die when you shoot them. We'll have to be careful."

The armored man's head snapped around to me. "Goddammit man, could you please act surprised, or shocked for once? We were just attacked by scorpions the size of a fucking cow." I could almost see the indignant expression on his face.

Why? Being surprised by something new isn't as useful as figuring out how to deal with it.

"We knew we'd find new threats here. We have to keep moving."

"Hmm", he grumbled. "You know, sometimes it's easy to forget you're half my age. And a human being." The ex-soldier paused for a moment before releasing a long, deep breath. "You're right."

Human being? We began down the highway, doing our best to avoid breaks in the asphalt. Technically, I think I'm still considered human. Been called other things a lot more though.

I-95 crumbled away once again a few hundred meters later. I motioned for the ex-soldier to wait while I took a few tentative steps into the damp, infected looking dirt beyond.

Nothing.

Did these things operate in limited territory? That would make sense; if the entire area was infested with them, we would have been attacked much sooner. Waving my companion forward, we continued on much more carefully. While it was good to know they wouldn't be hounding us everywhere, they still presented a problem: we wouldn't know where they would attack from until they made their move. It was like walking through a live minefield.

My mind was operating on overdrive, processing all of the incoming visual and auditory information, from faint whispers as wind washed over the landscape, to the countless sickly looking pools, to uneven ground that might house more of these 'Scorpions'. Now I also had to concern myself with any vibrations coming from below.

As we continued deeper into the hellish wasteland, the highway became more and more inconsistent. It would break off at what used to be overpasses, buildings, or what was left of them, collapsed across it, and sometimes it would just end in the large pools of contaminated groundwater. Circumventing that slowed us even more. The worst ones were the buildings: turns out Feral Ghouls can survive here, and they've decided the destroyed infrastructure would be their home.

The first time we skirted a tower that had collapsed lengthwise down I-95, we stayed too close to the structure. A snarl preceded the patter of several sets of bare feet across broken concrete as a dozen of the decrepit approximations of people leapt from the destroyed building. I shot three before several more crashed into me. They tried to bite, scratch, and pound their way through my armor while I tore them away. Despite their aggression, the Ghouls were fraile, more so than the average human. It didn't take much to break them.

Nate was similarly preoccupied, but the bulky armor made it difficult to rid himself of his unwanted passengers. At least it was doing its job though. I stalked over to the ex-soldier and helped him remove his unwanted passengers with a few quick stabs.

Once that was finished, we made sure to give towers, and for good measure the groundwater pools, a wide berth when circumventing them. Valentine hadn't been wrong when he said it seems like everything here wants to kill you.

The further south we traveled, the worse things got. The ground grew more broken and unstable, we were attacked by what looked like giant mosquitoes (is the default mutation 'everything gets bigger'?), and another nest of oversized scorpions. Nate slowed as the path became more difficult, and we were beginning to fall behind our pace.

I paused after dealing with the latest batch of oversized bugs. Normally, a good way to reduce the number of potential attacks was to deviate from any known travel paths. That probably wouldn't apply here though; everything was destroyed beyond usability and since no one passed through the area, it was likely the pockets of resistance we were running into would be the same everywhere.

Nate came to a stop next to me and gazed at the ruins of I-95 ahead of us. The stretch we were on disintegrated into another collection of groundwater pools 200 meters ahead. Even from here I could see the large mutated insects buzzing around the irradiated water.

"About a quarter mile back, there's an offramp to a smaller highway that leads through the hills to the north of Attleboro." I met the armored man's eyes. "I chose I-95 because it's the easiest route, but highway 1 was less populated. We'll add about a mile to the walk because we have to cross back over I-95, but it may still be faster. And besides", he nodded at the bodies of the now deceased scorpions, "I seriously doubt we'll run into any more trouble than we are here."

There was no guarantee it would be a better route, but if it wasn't as densely developed, it would have fewer buildings around. That would at least reduce the threat of Ghouls or Supermutants, though we haven't run into any of those bastards yet.

"What's the terrain?"

"If the bombs didn't destroy it? The road runs down the center of a couple hills. Nothing too bad."

I nodded. "We can try."

We moved relatively quickly and it was about five minutes to get to the prescribed junction. While the overpass had been destroyed in the blast, the smaller road was still partially intact, if not as much as the interstate had been. The land around the former off ramp was relatively flat, but it blended into rolling hills in the distance.

Studying the proposed path, a few new questions began forming in my mind: if there was less hard ground, would there be more scorpions in the area? Does the terrain make it more likely for Supermutants to use this area as an ambush? It may eliminate some problems, but it presents its own.

The other two options are to continue down I-95 which is too slow, or taking a more direct path, which would potentially lead to more attacks and worse terrain. This route is an unknown, but everything here is.

"Let's go."

A few hours later, as the sun came close to touching the horizon behind the rolling hills around us, casting long shadows over everything, we ran into the largest obstacle so far. A massive crater, probably 300 meters in diameter blocked our path forward. The pit was almost centered along the road we had been using, set in a narrow depression between two steeply sloping hills. It looked more like an impact crater than a nuclear detonation site. Fusion warheads are usually airburst for maximum effect which tends to leave a very wide, shallow depression. This one is easily 50 or 60 meters deep. There was nothing in the area that would suggest what might have created the scar if it hadn't been the explosion. Maybe there was a smaller, secondary detonation? It was difficult to tell for sure after 200 years of erosion and decay.

That by itself wouldn't be an issue, the problem was the seven large reptilian looking bipeds ambling around each other in the middle of the massive scar.

They were three to four meters tall, lean, muscular bodies, and armed with massive horns protruding from their heads accompanied by equally massive claws.

So these must be the famous 'Deathclaws'; I couldn't think of anything else they'd be. They were certainly fearsome looking creatures.

There were ways we could get around the crater, but it would add a lot of time to the journey considering the rolling hills and surrounding terrain that turned out to be tougher than Nate originally thought. The power armor had done alright up to this point, but its limited dexterity had already slowed our pace, and we hadn't encountered anything difficult yet. The crater was large enough to slip by them without notice, but then the his armor's limitations came into play again: it made stealth almost impossible

And yeah, I kind of wanted to fight the things people here decided to call 'Deathclaws'.

I waved Nate forward to the rim of the crater.

The ex-soldier froze as he saw the small group of four meter tall reptiles. "What the fuck are those?"

"Probably Deathclaws."

I felt the armored man's eyes on my back.

"So what do you want to do", he asked.

"How do you think that armor would handle traversing the rim?"

My companion hesitated, probably scanning the area. Because of its width, the eastern and western walls of the crater were at least another 50 meters taller than the edge we were standing over as well as the opposite side. I didn't trust the stability of the ground on those upper edges which meant if we wanted to circumvent this, we would need to find a way out of the narrow valley. He would have a better idea of what his suit could do, but I had my doubts.

"I don't know. It's steady, but we haven't tried anything that rough yet."

Hmm. That wasn't promising. The longer we added to this trip, the more likely Nate would start suffering from dehydration by the end. Worst case scenario, the Brotherhood had given us anti-radiation drugs, but would those help when the rations the ex-soldier was carrying were being constantly irradiated? We're already pushing it further than I'm comfortable with on this alternate route.

"You think you can kill those things?"

I turned my head to look at the ex-soldier. He wants me to fight? Seven of them, about a hundred and fifty meters between us… that's a lot of buffer to work with. It depends on whether or not they would take a 12.7mm to the head and keep going, and if they can, what happens when they get here? No matter how tough something is, there are always weak points: eyes, mouth, ears, organs. The Deathclaws were lanky, which meant they were probably agile and quick, but that usually left more sensitive joints. With they're long, muscular arms, they probably ran on all fours which meant they could cover ground quickly, and they wouldn't be as affected by the bad terrain, but they'd only be able to do so for short distances.

"I can't know for sure, but there are options."

Nate looked back at the rim and the rolling hills surrounding us. "I just don't want to be caught stumbling around these hills when those bastards notice us, if we even have the time to do it. Besides", he looked back at me, voice tinged with amusement, "I want to see if you can beat something called a 'Deathclaw'."

That sounded like a challenge. How could I pass that up?

I looked back at the group of mutated creatures milling around the center of the crater, plan taking shape.

"We don't know what these things can do, I need you as a contingency." I pointed to the rim's 5 o'clock. The location was tucked into the edge of the crater where the wall began climbing the hill to the west. It should provide good visual cover and keep him out of the way, provided the Deathclaws don't go after him. "Take position there, once I empty my first magazine, open fire on the rearmost one."

"You want me to get their attention?" He sounded calmer than I expected.

"No, stall them for a few seconds." It wasn't a complicated plan, but simple means flexible, and without knowing what I'm dealing with, flexible is more important. Putting Nate away from the fight also meant I was more maneuverable if they managed to make it to my position. Hopefully.

"I can do that."

I met Nate's gaze and gave him a nod.

A few minutes later, he was nestled between the rim of the crater and the crumbling hill flanking us. It would be a 150 meter shot for him from there. I'd never seen the ex-soldier shoot at that distance. The rifle was certainly capable, but was he? And wearing armor he's never fought in before?

It would be fine, I didn't need him to kill any of the things, just give me long enough to make my next move, whatever that ends up being.

I was crouched a few meters back from the edge of the crater, giving the Deathclaws a quick once over through the scope on my sniper rifle. Anatomy was never my strong suit; knowing where I need to shoot, stab, or hit something to kill it has been my only concern. I wasn't going to figure out how thick their skulls were, so my test would be 'can they stop a high caliber round?'

Taking a deep breath, I steadied my aim on the mutated reptile closest to me, held, and squeezed the trigger.

A 12.7mm bullet exploded from the muzzle with a concussion that reverberated through my chest. A split second later, the massive round crashed into the first Deathclaw's head-

And knocked it to the ground.

I watched it writhe in the sickly looking dirt, but there was no explosion of grey matter.

Yes, they can take a high caliber bullet.

The others immediately zeroed in on my weapon's booming report and began dashing toward the crater wall fast enough to make most animals jealous.

Okay. It would have been boring if I picked them off from here.

I noticed the things weren't taking a direct line toward me as I chambered the second cartridge; while they ran, each of them began jumping from side to side every few steps. That's interesting, are these bastards used to being shot at?

Even so, their movements weren't too fast to keep up with. I sighted in on the new closest target, now about 125 meters away, and sent another round down range. This one blew it's left knee out just as it planted to change directions once again. Blood and bone exploded from the joint and its leg folded in on itself. The Deathclaw let out an agonized screech, loud enough to make me wince. Too bad my helmet didn't dampen that.

Another round was loaded a second later, and the five remaining, healthy reptiles hit the 100 meter mark, when I sent the next bullet downrange, toward the lead creature's head. Unfortunately, I missed its mouth. The bastard dodged to the right just as I squeezed the trigger, and the 12.7mm projectile crashed into its, apparently, bulletproof skull just below its left eye. The force of the impact snapped the Deathclaws head to the side, and it dropped to the muddy slope, but it was still very much alive.

They were close enough now, the crater wall's slope was making it difficult to shoot down at them. I edged forward to get a better sightline and noticed the first creature getting back to its feet and stumbling after its friends.

My next projectile found its mark. The high caliber round crashed through one of the remaining Deathclaws' teeth and it dropped to the ground, what looked like it's spine and a wave of blood exploding all over the writhing creature behind it.

My final targets seemed to get what was happening, because as soon as their companion began tumbling back down the slope, the three of them got as low as they could, scrambling up the crater wall and making themselves as small a target as possible. The last round skimmed over the center creature's left shoulder, leaving a furrow in its scaly flesh, but the damn thing barely seemed to notice as it scrambled toward me.

The instant my rifle was empty, gunfire erupted from Nate's position. I didn't check to see if he was shooting at the first Deathclaw I'd hit, these three would be on me in a few seconds.

Time for the fun part.

I backed away from the edge, setting the empty sniper down and pulled my combat rifle from its sling. I couldn't see the approaching mutant anymore, but I could hear it's scrambling feet under the sound of the ex-soldier's rhythmic fire.

A smile crept across my face. This was like fighting a Mgalekgolo, but faster, and without the plasma cannon.

Just as the clambering feet reached the rim of the crater, my legs coiled tight and, once the first one's head emerged over the edge, I drove them into the ground as hard as I could.

My target must not have expected me to meet its charge, because its arms were splayed at its side, ready to strike, as my shoulder crashed into the thing's head. In my armor, I probably weighed more than the Deathclaw, so the laws of physics played a helping hand and my momentum knocked the big ass lizard off balance. We both began falling back toward the crater floor and my prey tried to take a swipe at me, but I was well within its long reach.

As we did, I grabbed its neck with my left hand and brought the rifle around with my right. I jammed the muzzle into my target's left eye and pumped a half dozen rounds into it. The last few punched through the backside of its skull, covering the muddy ground beneath it in brain and bone.

The ground came up to meet us as the last report faded. Leaping away from the now dead reptile, I struggled to regain my footing on the steep crater wall. The instant I had some semblance of control over my legs, I looked back up to see the other two uninjured Deathclaws jumping back over the rim of the crater and beginning their charge toward me. One of the three wounded creatures was sprinting for me from the left, one arm dangling uselessly at its side with a half dozen bullet holes in its shoulder.

There wasn't time to worry about the others.

I began backing down the slope, putting distance, and more importantly, time, between us and I sighted on the closer of the two rushing from above. They both began dodging in opposite directions, but I still planted a trio of projectiles in the first one's left thigh. It stumbled, but kept moving.

These things are tougher than they had any right to be.

His friend lunged for me, massive claws flying for my chest, but I sidestepped and it when careening down the hill. Before I could do anything else, the injured one was careening at me from my left. I dropped onto my back as its good claw sailed over my head and slammed into the slope behind me. Turning, I kicked the wounded creature in the stomach as hard as I could. Something under my armored boot cracked and the Deathclaw keened as it was sent tumbling back down the hill to join the other one.

I twisted on my back, bringing my rifle around and put four shots into the uninjured mutant's neck as it began rushing back up the hill toward me. Without it's absurdly thick skull to protect the soft tissue and spine, the smaller rounds tore through its throat and scattered muscle, blood, and bone across the writhing creature behind it.

I didn't get a chance to finish the second, floundering reptile because, as I took aim at its chest, the other pounced from my left. I managed to roll away, but it's claw caught my rifle's stock and tore the weapon from my grasp, sending it clattering down toward its still recovering friend.

Springing back to my feet, I began backpedaling while my attacker pressed on. I ducked under the third blow and drove my right shoulder into its sternum. The force of the charge sent Deathclaw stumbled backward. I pulled my knife and advanced, but the bastard was smart enough to take another sideways swing at me to keep some distance between us.

By that point, the other creature was stumbling its way back up the slope, broken ribs and all. I didn't know where the others were, but Nate's gunfire had sped up dramatically.

I continued rushing my prey as it swiped at me again. I stepped in and blocked the thing's wrist with my left arm. I'd intended to drive my knife into it's elbow, but the bastard was stronger than it looked. I jammed my right foot into the uphill slope to keep from stumbling which gave my target an instant to recover. It reared back and swung its lanky arm down at me from overhead. I sidestepped just far enough to avoid the blow and, as it's claw crashed into the ground, I planted an armored boot on it.

More bones broke from the force of me driving my foot into its hand and wrist as I leaped toward the creature's head. Being so close, it didn't have time to respond before I wrapped an arm around its neck and twisted, knocking it off balance and we both tumbled to the slick, muddy ground. The thing's head turned much farther than it should have, but I kept ahold of the Deathclaw as it landed on top of me. I wrapped my legs around its torso and pin the thing in place while I dug my knife into its neck up to the hilt. With a hard pull, I ripped the knife through the front of the creature's throat.

My knife wasn't long enough to sever its neck completely, but blood exploded from the gaping wound and my target writhed in my grasp while the life drained from it all over the ground and my right side. I didn't know where the other still living creatures were, so I'd have to trust this one was down for good.

I shoved the dying reptile away and sprung to my feet-

Just in time for a claw to slam into my chest.

It hit hard enough to flare my shields and they dropped alarmingly as I stumbled backward. I'd just landed on my ass when the Deathclaw lunged for me again. Without time to do anything else, I swatted it's flashing claws aside and the four meter tall lizard barreled into me.

The thing was heavy. The impact slammed my head into the slight damp dirt with enough force to make my vision flash white for a split second. I instinctively responded with a quick jab to its chest with my knife, but the bastard was writhing too much and the strike missed, blade driving deep into its left shoulder.

With another ear piercing screech, the Deathclaw jumped away from, knife still lodged in it, and began circling as I climbed to my feet. Great, now the only weapon I have on me is the 10mm handgun. Not ideal.

Before I could reach for it, the wounded animal charged me again, swinging one of its claws in a wide arc toward me. The thing seems to have learned from its dead companions' mistakes; the slashing arm came at me just low enough, ducking under it wouldn't work, and its forward momentum made dodging away equally untenable. It was going in for an all or nothing effort, commendable, but the attack left the creature open.

As the strike was about to reach me, my legs coiled again. I leapt, twisting as I traveled upward, somersaulting over the Deathclaw's charging form. Just before reaching the apex of my jump, head passing a meter over my target's spiny shoulders, my hand snagged the handgun and I aimed straight up (for me) toward the back of my target's head. The sidearm barked and I planted half a dozen rounds behind where, I hoped, the base of its skull was.

I didn't get to see the results because, as I found out, the ground was too soft to support a half ton of SPARTAN.

Son of a bitch. My feet slipped out from under me the instant they touched the slope, and I started tumbling down toward the other dead Deathclaws.

The gunfire coming from Nate's position had stopped and in its place was a chorus of loud bangs and crashing. It took a few precious seconds to finally regain control of my slide, and I glanced toward the sound to see the ex-soldier likewise tumbling down the steep crater wall from his position, another Deathclaw chasing after him.

My last target was collapsed in the muddy dirt a half dozen meters from my takeoff point, its chest heaving for breath.

There was no time to worry about it, I didn't know where number seven was, but if the Deathclaw chasing Nate got to him, that armor wouldn't hold up long. My eyes darted around for my discarded rifle. After a frantic instant, I found it lying beside the corpse of one of my victims. I half ran, half scrambled to the weapon, using my hands as much as my feet on the slimy, sloped crater wall and snatched it from the dirt.

I cycled the bolt as I turned, ejecting a fresh cartridge, but I wasn't going to take that chance, kneeling on the unsteady surface. I sighted on the, as far as I know, last Deathclaw, quickly bearing down on my companion. As much as my pride wanted to aim for a headshot, at this range, with a sporadic target in close proximity to Nate, I couldn't risk a wing or near miss. And if the sniper hadn't punched through, this thing sure as hell wouldn't. I centered my sights on the creature's chest, just behind its outstretched claws flying toward the now stopped ex-soldier.

Time slowed to a crawl as those talons neared Nate's neck. Even at this range, I could see the snarl on the Deathclaw's twisted face, blood dripping from the center of its head where my first 12.7mm round landed. Nate's legs were churning like they were in molasses, trying to push himself away from the mutated reptile, but to no avail. The only thing that could stop the thing-

I squeezed my rifle's trigger.

The weapon barked against my shoulder as one of the 7.62X51mm rounds exploded from its muzzle and crashed into the Deathclaw's rib cage, about ten centimeters below its shoulder. As soon as the bolt cycled closed, I put another round just below the first. And then a third between the two.

The creature released an odd, gargling keen as it pitched forward. My final target slammed into the ex-soldier, sending them both careening the rest of the way to the bottom of the crater. I tracked the two with my rifle until they came to a rest and Nate began climbing to his feet.

My target didn't budge.

I slowly released the breath I'd been holding and allowed a wave of satisfaction to wash over me.

The Deathclaws weren't smart, and didn't offer the same challenge a well organized group of Insurrectionists, to say nothing of the Covenant, did but yeah, that had been a good fight.

The ex-soldier's gaze fell from me as I stood, to the dead creature at his feet, and back. I waved him over and he began picking his way toward me while I scanned for other threats.

Seven. I counted all seven Deathclaws lying in the dirt, none moving. The one I hadn't killed was sitting near where it had fallen when the large caliber round blew its knee out, a half dozen bullet holes in its neck and chest. Nate finished that one off while the others were charging me. The one that had attacked him was the first I'd wounded; it must have gone after him once he started shooting.

"That", my companion said as he neared, voice a mixture of awe and… something that might have been irritation, "was a fucking shot."

I met his gaze and nodded. It hadn't been especially long, a little over 100 meters, but yes, it was still a good one.

The ex-soldier looked at the dead lizards scattered around us. "Sorry I couldn't do more. Shooting in this thing is… different." Not irritation, disappointment.

I cocked my head at the armored man. He'd managed to kill one and wound two others in anything but ideal conditions, using armor he'd never fought in before, at something going on 200 meters. For a regular soldier, I couldn't complain. "You did fine."

He held my gaze for a few heartbeats before nodding. I think he was surprised, but it didn't seem to help. It was probably similar to what he'd said when he told me the story about his last deployment. For someone like him, feeling as though he's being dragged along for the ride was… humbling.

I can understand that.

After another moment of silent staring, he turned back to the dead creatures. "These things are absolutely terrifying."

Scary? I don't know about that, but as far as wild animals go, they were certainly threatening. These are quick, tough, and deadly. The idea a skull could naturally develop to take a 12.7mm round was… incredible. On top of that, the amount of energy in that cartridge would be more than enough to give anything without something like my armor significant brain damage, even if it didn't penetrate. That kind of resilience would make a Sangheili blush.

"We know what they can do now. Next time will be easier."

The ex-soldier snorted as he looked around the crater now full of corpses. "Yeah, easier, right." He shook his head. "Maybe I'll do something next time."

We were already short on time; standing around here all day trying to appease Nate's damaged ego wouldn't get us anywhere. I grabbed my knife from the dead Deathclaw before climbing back to the top of the ridge to collect my sniper rifle and satchel. After giving everything a once over, my combat rifle had a new gouge in its stock where the Deathclaw had hit it, we began across the crater.

The backside of the massive scar led up to the remains of highway one we'd gone through all this trouble to reach. It meant we wouldn't have to spend hours trying to circumvent the rough terrain, or figure out if Nate could make it in his new armor at all.

Even so, I would rather be up on higher ground, not in the narrow valley hoping no one is around to take a shot at us. As unlikely as it was we would run into Raiders, or Gunners here (not enough people for them to prey on, and I doubt they have high quality radiation suits) there's always the chance another group or random individual was in the area. Then there's the risk of Ghouls, Feral Ghouls, Supermutants, or potentially more Deathclaws. This path may have been better than I-95 to this point, besides the whole 'Deathclaw' thing, but it clearly had its own risks.

As it was, I kept the quickest pace Nate could cope with while my eyes constantly switched from ridge to ridge. It was another hour and the sun had fallen behind the horizon by the time we cleared the narrow basin. Darkness settled over the bombed out wasteland and I switched my display to NV, washing the green tinged landscape with a cool blue and turning the destroyed hills around us into a twilight illuminated nightmare.

Just like every SPARTAN, I'd spent countless hours training in low light conditions, and even more operating in them. So much so, the nearly pitch blackness smothering the Glowing Sea was the closest thing I had to a comforting blanket. While my NVS was helpful, I'd gone without it so many times, it almost felt like cheating. Granted, I wasn't used to having someone in the bulky suit of T-60 following behind me, so maybe that made up for it.

Eventually, Nate called a stop; he sounded exhausted. I checked my mission clock: 0130. We'd been on the go for 13 hours.

"We should be a mile or two away", the ex-soldier said, voice low and monotonous, as we searched a small, mostly collapsed house in a clearing 50 meters north of the highway's ruins. "I just need a few hours of shut eye."

Despite his fatigue, I could still hear the subdued irritation sharpening his voice. A regular soldier, even other special operations outfits, they shouldn't expect to keep up. This is what SPARTANs are for. It was starting to annoy me, and I was half tempted to tell him to get over it.

But I couldn't. I couldn't because I understood exactly why he was frustrated. It's something I'd thought about while we walked, in between scanning for threats and making sure the ex-soldier was keeping pace. Maybe in a smaller part, it was the same as what drove me to join the SPARTAN III program in the first place: I never wanted to feel helpless again.

My companion awkwardly settled into a corner of the house's front room, the only place that wasn't on the verge of collapsing, and let out a deep sigh.

"This place sucks." That I couldn't disagree with. "I should be good in two or three hours, can you wake me up if we need to get moving?"

"Yes."

"Thanks." He hesitated. "And thanks for saving me. Again." The gratitude was a surprise. I wracked my memories of the fights we'd been in… I'm pretty sure that's the first time he's said anything. Yeah, he must have been even more irritated than I thought.

I nodded. "It's my-"

"Job", he finished, exasperated. "For fuck's sake man, could you just say 'you're welcome'?"

I cocked my head.

"Don't worry 'tin man', I'll say it with you. Ready? You're. Welcome."

My eyes rolled. Now I definitely wasn't saying it. So I shrugged and turned to leave. Him calling me 'tin man' didn't sit well. I wasn't sure why, but the pet name felt a little too… derogatory.

With the ex-soldier settling in for a few hours of sleep, I started walking a perimeter, slowly spiralling out from the house to make sure there were no giant scorpions or other buried surprises waiting to pounce. While I did, my thoughts kept swirling around my companion and his frustration. As pointless as it may have been, I couldn't fault him for it. There's a difference between being able to rely on other people, and having to rely on other people. I don't think he has a problem relying on me, anymore, but now he has no choice, and that's a very difficult position to be in, especially for someone used to doing everything themselves.

Something I'd talked about with Fourier a month or so before I got dropped here came to mind. It was one of the many times he tried to get me to open up about my childhood, but it was the first where he'd ever talked about his time before joining the SPARTAN IV program.

"I'd been thinking about it for a while", he said as the two of us sat in the empty galley of our current station, the UNSC Strength in Dominion, a new Stealth Cruiser. The Captain began occasionally allowing me to return to my habit of eating at night a few months prior, provided one of the squad was with me. Most nights it was him.

"What got me to pull the trigger was one op that went… especially bad." He set down his fork and stared at the tray of half eaten food in front of him. "I lost my buddy, Randles, along with half our platoon. We'd been together since we went through basic on` Reach. Got assigned to the same unit out of boot, applied to the ODST's together, got through that hell together." He paused and took another, angry bite. "Motherfucker took my plasma bolt. I could almost see him smiling as he did it."

Fourier finally looked back up at me. "They like guys like me: no family, no real life outside of the UNSC. SPARTAN Ops makes sure you know what you're giving up when they start recruiting you. Hard to go back to a normal life after this after all." He stopped and gave a self mocking laugh. "Not that I get to say anything about that to you. But they don't have to tell you what you get when you join. Every one of us knows that. Every one of us knows what you guys and the II's did for the rest of us. As dumb as it sounds, I wanted a piece of that. I didn't want to watch my buddies die in front of me ever again."

Silence settled back over the empty galley as my squad lead returned to his food for a few moments. When he started talking again, his voice had grown somber. "Then when I learned about you, about what happened, what you've gone through, what you've done… I felt like shit thinking that. It's easy to put your heroes on a pedestal until you meet them and realize they've sacrificed, and suffered, just like everyone else. People die in war, I knew that, we all do. I was just trying to find some way to cheat it. How could I say I felt helpless after hearing about you? I at least had a rifle in my hands and training I could lean on. At least I signed up for it" He offered me a small smile. "I didn't just take you on because of your record, I did it because I think someone owes you for what you've done, and what you've been through. Shit, look at me getting all sappy, and with you of all people", he chuckled.

Thinking about it now, the idea he accepted the challenge of integrating me into SPARTAN Ops as some sort of payment for the hand I've been dealt was… actually a bit refreshing. It meant I was wrong about why most wanted me around, at least to an extent.

But I was getting off topic. At the end of the day, he didn't want to need to rely on anyone else to get himself and his people out alive. That's something I respected in the man; I'd barely relied on anyone for the decade and a half prior to being assigned to Fourier. He trusted everyone under his command, even me, but he usually tried to take the hardest rolls. Amanda was the voice of reason though, and I think having me to lean on at times made it easier for him.

That's the difference between his situation and Nate's though: Fourier could take on most of those harder jobs and when he couldn't (or more often shouldn't) and we had no other option, I was there as a fallback.

No, I couldn't begrudge the ex-soldier his frustration. I think everyone faces that at some point. But what could I do about it? I want to get him to the Institute safely, and the best way to do that is to do what I do best: fight.

It was a question I could understand, but I wasn't equipped to answer. Should I have felt that way about him doing most of the talking? Is what I do any more valuable? Hell, without him, I probably would never have made contact with Valentine, let alone get here. Maybe the difference is I know I'm no diplomat, I'm a soldier, talking isn't what I do. But he isn't a diplomat either, he's a soldier and I do what he was trained to do, what he did for most of his life, much better. That must be hard to swallow, I know it would be for me.

That could be where he's stuck then: figuring out how to shift his responsibilities and perspective to be useful in this little impromptu partnership.

As it turns out, I didn't need to wake the ex-soldier; he was up and out of the house a little over two hours after he fell asleep. He probably needed more rest, but I didn't say anything. I couldn't see his face, but it wasn't hard to guess he was still upset, and telling him to go back to sleep would only make things worse.

We set off with several hours of darkness still ahead of us. It would make finding this hideout more difficult, but with Nate up, and restless, there was no point in sticking around. Thankfully, it seemed like the insects that had been pestering us throughout the journey were dormant at night. As we broke from the highway and headed over a few rolling hills to the southeast, we didn't encounter any hostile creatures to slow our progress.

While it certainly wasn't as striking as seeing Boston from the passenger compartment of a Vertibird, gazing across the broken landscape through the dull blue tint of NVS was… foreboding. There were the scant remains of a town, I think Nate called it Attleboro, to the southwest as we crested the hill overlooking I-95. It was impossible to tell what the town would have looked like in the daylight, but it wasn't hard to guess. Even through the wash, I could imagine the light brown and sickly green that would have discolored everything, as it had every other square centimeter of ground and building to this point.

"Fuck me", the ex-soldier whispered. I glanced over to see him likewise studying the destroyed and buried remains of the city.

As intriguing as the sight was, lingering on the hilltop not only wasted time, but if there happened to be anything out there watching us, we would make for a perfect target.

I began toward the remains of I-95 and a few instants later, I heard the odd, damp thuds of Nate trudging after me. We only had a few hours left until he began suffering from the symptoms of dehydration; it would start with a headache, then another few hours and it would move on to soreness, and muscle cramps. After that started, he might have 12 to 16 hours before he was too weak to move, and I would probably begin feeling my own.

After another 45 minutes of walking, Nate's heavy footfalls stopped. "This is the area. Based on Kellogg's… memories", I could hear the grimace in his voice. There was no lying to myself with this one, I was curious about what he saw; the mercenary was of interest to me, "the hideout should be somewhere around here."

Somewhere around here?

He caught my gaze. "He didn't know exactly where the Doctor was hiding, he just knew it was in a cave somewhere in this part of the preserve."

We were still standing in the middle of rolling hills scarred by nuclear fire. Several rock outcroppings, eroded to near nothing by flames and time, were scattered throughout the area. Nothing obvious to mark a cave though. It wouldn't be a good place to hide if there had.

It was light by the time we found the Doctor's hideout, sun rising into a hazy, brown sky casting an even more sickly light over the already uninviting landscape. After searching for the better part of two hours, I made Nate stop and think. Despite the armor, I could tell he was anxious, aching to contact someone from the Institute. While patience is certainly not my strong suit, I've been bent over by my own impatience enough to learn sometimes it pays to slow down. If we kept wandering around an area that, as far as Nate knew, was around 10 square kilometers, we weren't going to find it.

Eventually, he recalled Kellogg had seen an image of the rocky outcropping hiding Virgil's cave. He got it from someone called X6-88. A Courser maybe?

The cave entrance was almost impossible to spot, tucked into said outcropping about half way up one of the several hills overlooking the remains of I-95 to the south.

And there was a Deathclaw wandering around the hillside.

This is one of the many reasons you don't go after something half assed.

But it wasn't like I could say much after Goodneighbor.

Killing it quietly would be difficult from a distance. If it roared or I didn't kill it quickly enough to prevent one of its ear splitting screeches, anything in the area, including Virgil, would know we were here. We weren't here to kill the doctor, but he wouldn't know that, and the last thing we needed now was for him to get spooked.

So I was laying on top of another small group of rocks just below the crest of the hill, a hundred meters or so from the cave entrance. This was my ambush location of choice because the rocks formed a large semicircle around a divot in the center. My position was about five meters above the center of the circle, tucked into the deep shadow of a taller rock to my right. It was just high enough the Deathclaw wouldn't be able to reach me. While there were avenues of escape, most of them would be tight enough to slow the Deathclaw if it tried to run, which I doubt it would.

I'd been there for around a half hour, periodically hitting the boulder I was waiting on with a smaller stone I'd picked up along the way. Nate was standing silently behind another on the opposite side of the collection of rocks, near the largest gap where the oversized lizard would probably come through, waiting.

While Deathclaws seemed to be incredibly well equipped for a fight, their tracking skills were… oddly lacking. Every time I produced the sharp snap, the mutated reptile would begin stalking toward us, head down and claws at the ready. Inevitably, after about 30 seconds, it would lose focus and go back to wandering the hillside, like the only thing it's interested in is direct combat.

Long after my patience was gone, and I was tempted to pick the sniper rifle I'd laid next to me up and get the damn thing over with, my prey finally entered the group of rocks. As it did, my slow, rhythmic tapping turned into more rapid, irregular knocks. This wouldn't work on anything with half a brain, but it was clear by this point I wasn't dealing with anything close to that.

And now was about the time my body would get tense and restless, waiting for this aimless creature to finally find its way to my side of the outcropping.

After another half dozen clacks, it did, clawed feet crunching over the collection of gravel and wet dirt. It's beady eyes were scanning the rocks around it, almost looking annoyed, trying to find the source of the incessant noise.

My grip tightened around my knife and I let the aggravation drain from my body.

3

2

1

I smacked my stone against the boulder three times in quick succession and an instant later, a loud thunk came from Nate's hiding spot. The Deathclaw hesitated a moment, head cocked, clearly unsure what noise it should be paying attention to. A few seconds later, the ex-soldier made another loud thumping noise, and the mutated creature slowly began turning toward his position.

The instant its back was to me, I slipped silently into a crouch, legs coiled, before launching myself toward my target. It never turned as I crashed into its back, knocking the Deathclaw, flailing, to the muddy, gravel strewn ground.

Before the creature had the chance to respond, I grabbed the horn on the left side of its head and shoved its snout into the dirt. My right hand drove my knife into the underside of its chin, just behind the thing's jaw. A loud gurgling escaped, but no roar or keening.

Good.

I ripped the knife out and thrust it in again, this time in the center of its neck and tore it out before stabbing once more.

The thing struggled weakly under me while I held its head to the ground, and a few moments later it grew still from the combination of suffocation and blood loss.

"Clear", I called as I pulled my knife from the corpse. Nate edged around the rock that had been his hiding spot and began toward me and the dead Deathclaw. He didn't say anything this time, just glared at the dead creature.

With that taken care of, I climbed back up the rocks to retrieve my rifles and we trudge down the barren, sickly hill bathed in amber early morning light toward Virgil's hideout. The opening was set deep in the wall of a small cliff surrounded by smooth worn boulders littered for a hundred meters in either direction. With the sunlight beaming in from above the hill, the entire area was cast in shadow. I would have found the cliche amusing if it wasn't such a good spot to hide. If this guy was an Institute doctor, which probably means researcher, he's most likely intelligent and well prepared. He's shown enough forethought to choose a location deep in one of the most inhospitable places I've seen, short of a battlefield, and then went through the effort of using a near impossible to find cave.

Even if the Institute had eventually found it.

I didn't want to bring the ex-soldier in with me in case we were caught in an ambush or trap. In the tight confines of a cave like this, it would be extremely difficult to get both of us out, especially with him in that armor. The problem with that is Nate would be the one doing the talking, and I'm not sure someone hiding in a place like this would be amicable to me saying 'wait a minute while I bring someone else in.'

In the end, I entered first, my sluggish companion a few meters behind me. The interior of the cave was dark and cramped, enough so that I had to crouch and turn sideways just to fit through the opening. Nate had it a bit easier, but his armor made the effort… amusing.

NVS on, a quick scan of the entrance didn't reveal any immediate threats. The inside of the cave was worn smooth, like the rocks outside, with a subtle path leading around a bend five meters ahead. I took it slow, checking the walls and floor for any signs of trip wires, light curtains, laser monitors, motion sensors or anything else that would give away traps or explosives. The saving grace was it would be difficult to hide something like that in the smooth rock without an obvious disturbance.

As I neared the corner, I heard Nate take a hesitant step-

And it made a painfully loud thud on the bare rock, shattering the cave's silence.

I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before looking back at the ex-soldier, doing my best to convey a 'what the fuck?' without saying it. He shot me a glare, motioning at himself and his armor.

"Who's there", an odd, raspy voice called out from around the corner. "Is that you Kellogg? I knew you'd come for me eventually; I'm ready for you."

Shaking my head, I waved at the ex-soldier. My job is over apparently.

I could feel the annoyed stare through his helmet's tiny lenses as I turned back to the corner. "We aren't here to fight you. We just want to talk."

"I don't believe you. Are you stalling?"

The voice was strange. It ticked something in the back of my head; I'd heard a voice like it before. When?

"No. Kellogg is dead, we-"

"Kellogg is dead", the voice roared, suddenly angry. "Don't lie to me."

"I'm not. We killed him about a week ago." I felt Nate's eyes on my back. Was he still upset I'd killed the mercenary instead of him?

There was a long pause. I'll admit, the guy was good, but was it really that unreasonable to believe someone had killed him?

"How?"

"By shooting him", my companion said, voice clipped. "I'm not here to hurt you, we just need information on the Institute. We know you're from there."

"Who told you that?"

"Kellogg did, sort of. He gave us a memory drive showing us where you were hiding. The Institute knows too, they were sending him to kill you."

Another pause.

"I knew they'd find me eventually. I prepared the best I could for that bastard finding me but… I wasn't sure if I'd make it. And so you… you killed him." The Institute scientist cleared his throat. "Then what do you want with me?"

"Do you mind if we come meet you face to face? I'm not a fan of conversations like this."

"Uh…" He trailed off before saying anything. I was still struggling to place his voice. "Fine, but don't be alarmed by my appearance."

What does that mean?

Nate's waving caught my attention and I glanced at the armored man.

"You mind if I go first", he whispered.

My mind was screaming 'no', but it may be a good idea, this time. Him being in a suit of T-60 would be threatening, but expected for the area. That's armor the doctor is at least aware of. He probably wouldn't have the same response to me.

I nodded.

The ex-soldier thudded toward me and we both had to turn sideways so he could pass in the narrow cave. Light's flashed on around the corner, damn near blinding me before I could disable my display's night vision. Nate threw a mechanical hand up over his eyes a split second later before shaking his head and continuing forward.

As he rounded the corner, I edged toward it, weapon at the ready in case this was a trap. I wouldn't blame Virgil if it was; if the man really did believe Kellogg unkillable, the best way to even his odds would be to lure the party into an ambush.

The ex-soldier froze mid stride, staring straight ahead. That wasn't good.

Just as I was about to bring my rifle to bear, he held up a hand to stop me. I squinted at him through the floodlights spilling across the cave.

"Doctor Virgil?" His voice was uncertain, and more than a little nervous.

"Yes."

"What- what are you?"

"Well… you see, to survive in this radiation, I had to resort to… extreme measures."

"That doesn't answer the question", my companion shot back, voice growing sharper again.

An exasperated sigh. "If you must know, I used a specialized mutation of the FEV so, technically, I'm a Supermutant."

Time stopped. The mission objective disappeared. Getting to the Institute, finding my way home, hell even our timetable for getting back out of the Glowing Sea, all of it was background noise.

A Supermutant. Virgil is a fucking Supermutant.

The West Everett Estates flashed through my mind. The piles of dead, mounds of half eaten corpses.

Cassandra. Thomas. Julian.

My anger, my hatred, all washed through my head like a torrent, overwhelming the small voice in the back of my mind telling me this has to be different, throwing up all the logical objections it could.

It was useless, like a sapling resisting the winds of a storm.

My hand clenched my rifle's pistol grip so hard, I felt the wood flex almost to the point of breaking. I didn't have to send the command to my legs before they started moving-

But Nate blocked my way, hand still raised, eyes drilling into me through his helmet.

I grabbed his armored wrist with my off hand, about to throw him out of the way when the ex-soldier widened his stance, bracing himself. It left the smaller man open to any number of attacks, but he clearly wasn't looking for a fight. I wasn't used to people trying to block me, especially a regular human, but the ex-soldier stood his ground and stared me down, even as I advanced, prepared to butcher the Supermutant bastard.

That put a crack in my anger just large enough to keep me from flinging my companion into the opposite wall.

"Move", I said quietly.

"Damon, take a deep breath. This isn't the same thing. Virgil clearly isn't anything like the ones you fought." Nate's voice was steady, but there was worry under his veneer of calm.

Damon? He doesn't use my name often. "Not the same thing?" My voice was still low and even I could hear the quiet edge on the question. How was it not the same? He's a Supermutant.

"No. Think about it. He gave himself some modified version of what makes Supermutants, right? He isn't hostile like them, he doesn't have anyone he can-" the ex-soldier paused, and I could hear him swallow hard through his helmet, "eat."

Not the same thing. The small voice at the back of my head was screaming now, doing everything it could to punch through the thinning fog of my anger. I was being irrational, I was letting my memories and emotions get in the way of the mission. Whatever this guy is, he's our best lead to the Institute, and killing him would only make things worse.

But god damn it I wanted to. Even with reason beginning to reassert itself, my body was burning, ready to tear the Supermutant bastard apart with my bare hands.

Mission first, put it away.

… Fine.

I released Nate's wrist and nodded.

He hesitated for a moment before letting out a shaky breath and lowering his arm.

"Thanks."

Thanks, huh.

My armored companion turned back to the Supermutant- Virgil. "Sorry, we just didn't expect… that."

"You keep saying 'we' yet you're the only person I see."

Nate shot me a nervous glance, but it was fine. I'd be fine. I had to be. Yes, I was still on edge, but this is the mission and I had to stop getting in my own way. If I keep letting myself make emotional decisions, it's going to catch up with me.

I stalked around the corner and my visor polarized as the floodlights hit me. It took every bit of self control to keep my rifle down, and not only because of the Supermutant standing through the entrance to another alcove; there were two of the bulbous turrets sitting on perches flanking the narrow passage, both with their barrels trained on Nate.

Virgil, a two meter tall, twisted, green skinned approximation of a person stared at me through glasses far too small for his disfigured face. "What the hell are you", he asked. "That's neither Brotherhood of Steel armor like your friend, nor is it Enclave."

"He's-"

"I'm a soldier, and we need to find the Institute." My voice was harsh, almost a growl. I don't know why I'm talking with this- thing, but at least in this situation, I didn't want Nate speaking for me.

The doctor flinched, but he didn't cow. "I understand that, but that doesn't explain who you are."

"I'm the one who killed Kellogg."

"Oh great", Nate muttered, too quiet for the Doctor to hear.

Virgil nodded. "Ah, so you're the one I have to thank for ridding the world of that abomination of a man."

You're calling someone else an abomination?

"I'm willing to help, but I won't do it for free."

Nate took a half step forward. "What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Look at me!" The doctor gestured at himself angrily. "I'm a freak and… it's getting worse. I need your help; I was working on a serum that would fix this, but I had to leave it in my lab."

"And you're trusting us to bring it back to you?"

The Supermutant laughed almost maniacally. "No but what choice do I have? I can't go back, and I'm running out of time."

'Fix this'? 'Running out of time'?

In spite of the fury still threatening to push the rest of my thoughts into oblivion, I was curious. "What does the serum fix? And what do you mean you're running out of time?"

"It reverses the effects of the FEV. I'd get to be a human again, and I need it soon. I-" He grimaced, or that's what it seemed like. "My mind is leaving me. At first I just thought it was my forgetfulness, but the longer I'm like this, the more I lose. Please… I'd rather die than turn into a monster like those bastards out there, wandering around, preying on people. I could never accept that."

He wants to return to being human? He can return to being human?

As the thoughts slid through my mind, they smothered the anger that had taken root. So he needs this serum to fix himself and that's how we get his information. It was quicker and cleaner than torture at least.

"Okay", Nate said, "we'll help as long as you can get us to the Institute." He paused and looked between the two turrets still trained on him. "Could you deactivate these?"

Virgil slowly nodded before retreating from the entrance. A moment later, the floodlights shut off, plunging the cavern back into darkness and the turrets' barrels lowered.

"Come in", the Doctor's odd, nasally voice called from beyond the passage.

My companion was about to start forward when I barred his path with an arm. His head shot to me, but I started stalking toward the entrance before he could say anything. Virgil might be different, but he was still a Supermutant, and suspicious of us. Nate's new power armor be damned, I wasn't about to give the former Institute scientist an opportunity.

I cleared the narrow opening before entering, the only thing missing was aiming my rifle. That I held at the low ready. Beyond the gap was a larger cavern with an ancient looking power bank along the right wall, a work station moved up against a central support, and a staircase down to what looked like rudimentary living quarters below. There was also an odd looking robot ambling around the wide space. It looked roughly like Kleo, but older, with a bulbous torso, no separate head, and stubby limbs. Extra security?

Virgil was standing by his workstation, glaring at me as I ducked through the entrance, followed by Nate. I moved so my back was against the right wall, keeping both the listless looking robot and doctor in my sights. The ex-soldier looked around as he trudged through the opening, similarly studying the temporary haven.

The scientist's gaze passed between the two of us, settling on Nate. "Now, time is short so we need to get this over with. First thing's first. You know how Synths get in and out of the Institute?"

"Yeah, they use some sort of teleporter", the armored man answered.

My eyes narrowed as Virgil's widened. A teleporter. Really. The UNSC hasn't developed anything like that and we're 300 years ahead without blowing ourselves to hell. That smells like bullshit.

"Well, well… Not many know about it. Pretty closely guarded secret. You've certainly done your homework." The doctor nodded. "It's commonly referred to as the 'Molecular Relay'. I don't understand all the science behind it, but it works. That relay is the only way in and out of the Institute. You understand? The only one."

So there's no physical door and the only way in and out of this place is some science fiction technology, even for me. I guess if you're going to secure your facility, that's a pretty good way of doing it.

Nate nodded. "I do."

"Good", Virgil continued. "Now, have you ever seen an Institute Courser?"

"Not in person."

"Coursers are Synths designed for one purpose: they're hunters and they're very good at what they do. You're going to have to kill one."

I recalled Valentine talking about Coursers. Hunt down this world's version of a supersoldier? That had my interest.

The ex-soldier cocked his head. "And why is that?"

"Because they're your ticket in. Every Courser has special hardware embedded in a chip in their heads that connects them to the relay. I don't know exactly where you can find one, they haven't sent any after me, but there is a way to track them. The primary insertion point is in the ruins of CIT, directly above the Institute. You'll want to head there. The relay causes some pretty heavy interference across the EM spectrum. If you have a radio, you can tune it to the lower end of the band and listen in. You'll be able to hear the interference. Follow the signal and little lead you to a Courser. Then you just have to… not get killed."

Virgil was selling these things hard, I really hope this isn't the setup for a letdown.

"Not get killed. Right." Nate didn't look, but the remark was directed at me.

"One other thing." The doctor turned and rummaged through his work station for a moment before facing us again, holding a small box. "These are plans for a Signal Interceptor. It will allow you to access the relay system once you have the Courser codes."

My companion took the offered box and slipped it into the MOLLE pouch under his left arm.

Despite my interest, this story wasn't right: why would we need a Courser's chip if the Institute scientist had escaped?

"Where's your chip?"

The Supermutant's eyes fell on me. "What?"

"You escaped the Institute using their relay system. How?"

"Oh. Right." Virgil shook his head. "I didn't use a Courser chip, I used a program that copied their signal, but it had to be loaded directly onto the relay's server. I can't do that from out here."

As… ridiculous as this all sounds, it wouldn't make sense for the doctor to lie here. If he does need us, it would be in his best interest for us to get to the Institute as quickly as possible. There is an outside chance this is still a setup, but at that point we're getting into odds and variables no one can predict.

"Understood."

The Supermutant frowned. "I need you to appreciate what you're going up against. Coursers are specifically built and programmed to be the best hunters and fighters around."

"How?"

"They have biological and mechanical enhancements to improve all physical attributes and durability. On top of that, they have extensive combat programming: guns, hand to hand, stealth, and they're expert trackers."

"What about strategy and tactics?"

"They have access to all of the historical data available to the Institute. If it's been done, they can do it."

"Sounds… interesting", Nate said.

Not really. I was quickly beginning to think these things wouldn't be as capable as I hoped. It sounds like they were made to be ideal soldiers by someone who has never been in a firefight. Stronger, faster, more information, but not necessarily smarter.

"Adaptability?"

Virgil paused. "Well I… I'm not sure. I know they were programmed to adapt to any situation, but that's all."

I'll reserve judgement until I see one in action, but this wasn't promising. At least, it wasn't as promising as I'd hoped. Virgil made them sound like low rent SPARTANs without Mjolnir or top quality combat training and experience.

Whatever. As much as I was itching for another good fight after the Deathclaws, my satisfaction could wait; the mission is what's important.

The scientist wasn't going to provide us any more useful information, and we needed to get moving.

"We'll do it."

"Good", Virgil said through a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Please hurry, I don't know how much time I have left."

Nate nodded. "We'll do everything we can to get you that serum."

I glanced at the armored man for an instant. You make a lot of promises on my behalf.

"I appreciate that, but don't be reckless; I don't have time to wait for someone else to find me."

"If it's possible, we'll get it done."

Virgil nodded hesitantly.

Standing here was starting to bore me, and we're up against the clock.

"Let's move", I said.

A/N: How's about THAT for some Deathclaw action? I actually didn't know how I wanted to handle this, SPARTANS (especially II's and III's) don't fuck around, and they're a lot stronger/faster than I think most people assume (the MC punched an Banshee in Shadows of Reach). I decided to have fun with it and have Damon whoop some ass, with the exception that the Deathclaws are dangerous, but they're also just animals up against an extremely intelligent, well trained supersoldier. Other than that, we're finally on our way to the Institute, and I'm pretty excited for what's going to happen in the near future. Let me know what you all think and I'll see you next time!

Next Chapter: August 19th, Which Version is Better?