A/N: HAIL! It was really weird not posting a chapter last week but we're back! Nothing major happened, just family things (but sometimes family can be complicated). Now. This chapter is, officially, the most rewritten one I've done. I think I rewrote/added/removed scenes six times. You'll understand why as you read it, I was going for a very particular feeling. I won't spoil anything though. Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!
Chapter 50: Torture
This is something I need to do. It's our best option and no one else here has the same experience I do torturing people.
Well, Danse might, but he wasn't going to hurt Haylen. That's something I couldn't blame the former Paladin for.
That means I have to hurt Haylen. For real. If I'm going to do this, I need to do it right.
Do it right. Torture her without my normal motivation: answers. I'm not looking for answers, but I'm making it look like I did.
My job isn't and has never been, to hurt things. If I do, it's for a purpose. Have I taken… liberties during combat at times? Yes, but never anything like this.
But I do know how to hurt things. I may not be an expert interrogator, but I've spent enough time doing it and enough time fighting… I know the human body well.
So it isn't a question of ability, it's a question of willingness.
Willingness? Am I willing to do what it takes to get the job done? I've always been willing to do that, even if the 'job' has changed. Even if I'm the one giving myself objectives now.
Haylen's eyes flashed through my mind. They were determined. Scared, but determined.
I can't ask 'what alternatives do I have?' anymore. I've asked that a dozen times and haven't come up with anything better. This is my best chance.
Take it.
How do I do it right? How do I make it believable? I don't have any questions for her to answer. Without that point of reference, how do I know what would be enough? How do I know what type of torture to use?
If I want to make it convincing, make it obvious. The most spectacular torture methods, at least for an observer, are blunt force trauma. I can do that. Bruises, broken bones, lacerations, and ligament damage. It's dangerous though. People… break easily. Hit Haylen too hard or in the wrong spot, and it could cause irreparable damage.
Or kill her.
She's my target, not Haylen.
Right. My target.
However long it takes, however much damage I need to do, she has to survive and recover. She has to reintegrate with the Brotherhood's forces. That's what matters.
The Scribe will be reluctant. She's already said she wasn't going to give me any information I might be able to use against the Brotherhood. While that doesn't mean much, her people won't know that.
This isn't about questions. This is about looking like I asked questions.
What questions do I want- need her to answer? Danse. Julian. Any intel she has about the Brotherhood.
Those first two are direct, the third wasn't. That means the torture will be longer, drawn out. More damage.
Voices drifted toward me from Sanctuary, pulling me out of my thoughts. I looked down over the edge of the hill from my perch, sitting atop one of the shipping containers beside the Vault's entrance. It was late, a few lights were still on around the settlement, but most had already gone to bed. To the south of town, I spotted one of the patrols walking a perimeter. They were on their way back from the small gas station across the river. I'd need to talk to them about maintaining better patrol routes. They don't have the protection of power armor, nor the numbers to deter an adventurous attacker.
Focus. Interrogation.
Hay- The Scribe has already told me she won't cooperate. If I'm going to do this with blunt force trauma, that means I have to go slow. Hard, heavy blows won't get me anything besides a dead mark. Make my subject feel each hit, make each hit hurt, but let them know it will only continue to get worse the longer they hold out. Bruises on top of bruises. Bones cracked, then broken. It's going to last a while, and it's going to be painful.
If the goal is to make sure the Brotherhood knows I beat the information out of her, that's how I do it.
It was times like this I wish I could let my guard down for a moment. More than anything, I wanted to take my helmet off and suck in a deep breath of the cool, crisp night air.
But I'm not going to get shot in the head for it.
I tilted my head back, gazing up at the dark, speck-filled sky above. The sight really was incredible. There was so little light pollution, even down at sea level where atmospheric interference distorts the image of the distant stars, it was so clear it felt like I was on a ship. Two hundred years for what's left of the planet's vegetation to clean the atmosphere does wonders, I guess.
Haylen couldn't appreciate this. Not now. No, she was down in the Vault, going on 30 hours with no water.
My mark.
Clear night skies… they've always been calming. This one especially. The knowledge I'm on Earth, looking up at it from humanity's homeworld was humbling. This is what human beings have seen for thousands of years when they looked up. It's only been a few centuries since we joined those stars.
No, I have all night to put myself in that mindset. For now, at least, she can be Haylen.
Maybe, if I ever make it back, I can request shore leave on Earth. Take a few days, find a nice secluded spot, maybe backpack up to a mountain peak and do nothing but stare into the night sky. My night sky. Away from everything. Away from the UNSC. Away from ONI. Away from all the bullshit. Away from my 'responsibilities'.
Away from being a SPARTAN.
While things aren't as fast-paced as they'd been when I was with ONI, I'm still constantly moving. It gives me almost no time to sit and think. For the last 15 years, that's been a good thing. Now though…
The me I was when I first arrived in Concord would have wiped out the Railroad and moved on. I would have done it because that's what I would have needed to do to get back to the UNSC.
Things have changed. I've changed. That decision, to protect Cass and Tommy, to not attack the Railroad, wasn't the one that accomplished the mission. It was contrary to everything I've been. But, like I said- or thought- when Deacon was talking to Danse, it was the right call.
That isn't something I ever thought I'd choose, to listen to the quiet voice of my conscience over mission-critical actions. Like I said to Nate what seems like a lifetime ago, I never intended to survive this long. I wanted revenge on the Covenant bastards who destroyed everything I knew. All I ever wanted was to take my pain out on everything else. Since I have survived this long, much to the dismay of countless Innies and Remnants, and revenge isn't my goal anymore, taking some time to figure things out might not be a bad idea. I won't, and never intend to, stop being a SPARTAN, but maybe I've ended up a different SPARTAN.
A small smile spread across my face. Fourier, Amanda, and Liam would be so proud of me. I could almost hear Liam: "he's finally decided to be a real person." Even if it was an imagined slight, I'll make sure to give that asshole a little extra during our next sparring match.
If I get the chance.
I let out a deep breath and pulled my eyes away from the vista stretching horizon to horizon above me.
For now, and for the foreseeable future, that isn't going to happen. I'm SPARTAN Damon G-052 and, whether at some point, later on, I get the opportunity to re-evaluate what that means, I do enjoy doing what I'm doing. I have… opportunities other soldiers don't and if I've learned anything over the last few months, it's that they mean nothing if I don't do anything with them.
Tomorrow though, it may be one of those opportunities, but that will be a challenge.
My mark isn't one I'd like to have.
But that's what it takes.
What I'm about to do is to get the job done. It's what I've always done. The difference now is this is something I want. I don't know if that makes this any easier, but at least I know why I'm doing it.
Alright. I jumped down off my perch, armored boots kicking up puffs as they hit the dry dirt. Time to get ready.
X
Susan and Blake were waiting at the Vault's entrance after giving the Brotherhood Scribe a dose of MedX and another drug I haven't seen before. The room was empty now except for myself, Danse, and my target. Danse was pacing behind me and even though I couldn't see him, I felt how tense the former Paladin was. He isn't the only one.
The Scribe was hanging in front of me, suspended by her wrists from a rope I'd looped over one of the pipes above. Her face was level with mine, and she was staring into my visor, fear and determination in her eyes. The small woman was doing her best to keep her expression neutral, but sweat covered her mostly bare body.
That probably wasn't healthy considering she hadn't had anything to drink for two days.
"It's a common 'interrogation' technique", I said. "Exposure and dehydration are one of the oldest forms of torture I know of."
Make it look good. Start from the basics.
"You can't allow them to get used to the pain." That was Blaine. "Start small, make sure they know it's gonna get worse the longer they wait."
One thing Katrina and Mendez had never insisted on training me on was torture. Yes, they had someone with experience in enhanced interrogation give me a few pointers, but most of what I know is learning in the field.
That doesn't mean I'm not familiar with ONI's practices. I've been privy to plenty of their 'interviews'.
"The worst thing you can do is allow yourself to empathize. You're there to get information however you can. There will be pleading, crying, and screaming. None of that matters, the only thing you're interested in is their answers to your questions."
The only thing I'm interested in is answers. This time though, the answers aren't to my questions, they're the lengths I'll go to trying to convince Maxson I had tortured one of his people.
It was time to get started.
I marched forward, watching the Scribe tense. Good. That meant it would be at least a little harder to break something. My fist lashed out toward her torso.
Not too hard, no permanent damage, she has to know the longer she waits, the worse it gets.
The titanium gauntlet crashed into my mark's ribcage and I felt her bones flex dangerously under the force of the blow, but nothing broke.
As she swung backward on the rope, the Scribe let out a pained shout.
Nothing broken yet. Take things slow.
Next was another blow to her solar plexus. The punch sent her diaphragm into convulsions, knocking the wind out of her. The groan that followed was strangled.
Give her a minute to recover, the pain will be muted until she has her breath back.
After 30 seconds of heaving, the Brotherhood member's breathing calmed. Another punch and she was swinging on the rope again. This time, she held whatever exclamation she might have in, eyes squeezed shut, face screwed up in pain.
That's good, she's feeling it.
Grabbing her forearm, just beneath the rope, I squeezed. It wasn't hard enough to break the bones, but they did flex and this time the Scribe couldn't stop herself. Another scream pierced the otherwise silent air.
Screams are good. It means they know what's happening.
When I released her arm, it was red and already beginning to swell. The woman dangled limply from the ropes, panting.
Is it far enough? Would I buy it?
Bruises were already forming across her torso, and her arm would join soon.
But no, it looks like someone hit her a few times, not tortured her.
Nothing permanent.
Nothing permanent, but make it obvious.
Haylen- my mark lifted her head again and stared at me, mouth open as she gasped for breath. The pain in her eyes was obvious, but so was the determination.
My hand lashed out and I caught her across the jaw with an open-palmed strike. The Brotherhood Scribe yelped as her head snapped sideways. It wasn't hard enough to break anything; hard to perform an interrogation of a subject who can't talk.
Before she could come to a stop I slammed a fist into her left side.
This time I felt a rib snap.
She let loose an ear-piercing scream. It grated in my head and I felt my entire body tighten.
She knew it would get worse the longer it went.
"Damon!", Danse shouted from behind me. He grabbed my arm.
He grabbed my arm.
"That's enou-"
Turning to the paladin, I grabbed a fistful of his shirt and shoved Danse away. The former Paladin tumbled onto a bed.
I took another deep breath, forcing myself back into-
"It's fine", a croak came from the dangling woman. "I need to do this."
Tears were streaming down Haylen's face, making tracks through the grime and sweat.
My mark stared at me as I stalked back toward her. Fear had joined the pain in her eyes, but the set of her now bruised and swollen jaw said, if anything, she was even more determined than she had been before.
"I need to do this."
Another blow to her right side and she yelped. Another large bruise over the already forming one. A strike to the left side of her head, a shout of pain. The next few minutes dragged into hours as I tortured my target. Even though I never hit her anywhere near as hard as I could, I felt each strike reverberate up my arms. Each time she'd look at me there was more pain in her eyes, but the determination never left. It was as firm as granite. It didn't waver as the bruises mounted, as another one of her ribs snapped.
Even through her screams.
By then her body was more bruises than anything else, building on top of one another across her torso. It certainly looked like someone beat her, like she held out for as long as she could. Would it be enough to convince them though? Would it be enough to convince Maxson?
Make it look like she talked.
I pulled my knife from its sheath.
"STOP!"
The small, battered woman's eyes widened as I pushed it toward her throat. The blade pressed itself against her neck. It cut a shallow line in the skin over her carotid artery and blood spilled down the edge of the knife-
That's enough.
Pulling the knife away, I let my hand fall back to my side.
Haylen was in bad shape. Most of her skin was a mixture of bright red, blue, and black. There were a half dozen lacerations across her torso and a few more on her swollen, bloodied face.
She must have realized it was over because, as I watched, her eyes fluttered in the beginning stages of unconsciousness.
Down. I reached up to cut the rope binding her hands. The Scribe fell into my left arm and I gently lowered her small frame to the bed behind her.
"Haylen!" Danse exclaimed as he shoved past me. His voice was half anger and half worry. The former Paladin knelt over his subordinate, shooting me a glare that could have blasted through a ship's bulkhead. But there was something else beneath the anger too, some kind of desperation I hadn't seen from the Synth before.
This- I need to give him a minute.
Turning on my heels, I marched out of the large room and into the hall. Adrenaline was surging through my veins, energy that hadn't come close to being spent. Most of the time, my interrogations are preceded and/or followed by a fight. There was none here though. The only thing I have now is a pissed-off soldier, a heavily injured Scribe, and a lot of energy.
Restless energy with no outlet.
But I couldn't tell if that energy was from the adrenaline or the fact that I was pissed.
Why? I did my job. Haylen agreed to this. This is to get her back into the Brotherhood. This is far from the first time I've hurt someone, badly. But it's the first time I've done it like this, to someone I know, to do it with no intention of getting information.
To someone who trusted me.
I stalked back to the Vault's entrance. Susan and Blake were there. Both physicians were standing just outside of the door, staring at me as I walked through.
"Are you finished?" Susan asked. Despite the anticipation in every tense muscle in her body, her voice was calm.
"Yes." My voice sounded like it came from someone else like I was watching the interaction take place.
The two nodded to each other and made for the door. Blake stopped beside me. "Are you… not coming?"
No. I needed a few minutes. I don't know if I shook my head or said something to that effect, but the man nodded before following his partner into the Vault.
My feet began carrying me around the entrance, pacing across the platform.
Why am I so upset? Didn't I do the right thing? Even if it was someone I know who I hurt?
Isn't it the right thing? If it is, why doesn't it feel the same as it did to find Danse, to get Vic and Newton out of the Raider camp? Why doesn't it feel the same as when I sided with the Railroad over the Institute? I'd hurt Nate then, someone I know significantly better than I know Haylen now.
Why does it feel like I didn't do the right thing?
Dammit.
Dammit.
Dammit.
Why do I feel like this? I was just doing my job. Not only did Haylen agree to it, she was damn near encouraging me during her torture.
My mind started replaying things from the 'interrogation'. Her ribs snapping, the feeling of her shuddering under each blow.
Her screams of pain.
Goddammit.
My right arm shot out, fist slamming into a metal paneled wall with all the force it had wanted to hit Haylen with. The sheet of steel caved in under the force of my anger with a squealing that matched the Scribe's cries.
What's wrong with me? Yes, Haylen trusted me, but this is what I do. If I can't hurt people, how do I do my job? How do I do what I'm good at? And if I'm being honest with myself…
Something I enjoy.
My hand drifted from the destroyed panel to my side.
Standing here punching walls won't accomplish anything. I can figure out whatever the hell is going through my head later. For now, I need to make sure Haylen gets taken care of.
Not that I can add anything to that front either, I break people, not fix them, but the least I could do is be there.
When I got back to the large room, Susan and Blake were standing over the Scribe. She had a brace around her neck and they were working on wrapping her left arm. As soon as I entered, Danse marched over and stood beside me. He didn't say anything as we watched the two settlers treat Haylen as best they could. They were both experienced, worked well together, and moved her as little as possible. Even so, every few seconds, a subdued groan would reach us. Each time it did, Danse tensed, but he stayed planted, eyes locked on the three of them.
"Five more minutes", Susan called.
Even though they weren't facing us, Danse nodded. He was still upset, but the simmering rage had died down to what seemed like his normal background level of irritation.
The relative silence continued as the two of them worked.
This needed to happen. Haylen not only understood and agreed, she was the one who came up with the idea.
Doesn't mean I don't feel guilty about this.
Which is fine, but I can't change what's done.
Can I find a way to do it better next time? Could I have kept this from happening?
Maybe, but what matters right now is making sure she's okay and this works.
… Right.
Blake stood from the side of the bed. "Alright, we're ready to go."
Before he'd finished the sentence, I was already striding forward. "I'll carry her."
"No-"
My head snapped to Danse. "It will be easier for me to keep her still. I'll carry her." I cocked my head at him. "You're staying here."
That's something we'd already discussed, but judging by the fury that rekindled in his eyes, he didn't quite agree with that idea anymore.
"Like hell-"
"Danse", I interrupted, "you're here because Haylen asked me to find you. If it hadn't been for her, and me, you'd be in a cell, under experimentation, or dead."
"I didn't ask you to 'save' me." He flailed an arm at the Scribe. "If she's the only reason I'm here, I'm going to make sure Haylen is going to recover. I'm sure as hell not leaving her in your care."
"You aren't leaving her in his care", Blake interjected. The other man's voice was steady, but damn near poisonous. "You're leaving her in ours and I'd appreciate if you didn't insinuate we are unable to do our jobs adequately. Both of us have dealt with far worse than this."
This wasn't punishment, per se, I don't care if he's around Haylen. "If the Brotherhood finds you, it puts everyone in Sanctuary at risk. I'm not taking that chance."
"Danse", the injured woman groaned from the bed, "please. If you don't stay here, what was the point of this?"
The former Paladin hesitated, eyes shifting between everyone else in the room. An argument couldn't have been more obvious if it was written on his face.
"This isn't going to get us anywhere. We'll take care of her, and I'll come back in the morning and give you an update." Susan nodded to me. "They're right." She waved me over. "Come on."
Danse clearly wasn't satisfied, but the two physicians didn't seem to care. I followed Susan to Haylen. The brace they'd put around her neck, surprisingly, looked like a genuine medical implement, and she had what looked like a massive ace bandage wound around her torso. Her face was swollen, but they'd spread something bluish brown on it. Maybe a local anesthetic?
Her eyes though, those were still sharp, and they were locked on me.
"Wrap your left arm under her neck slowly. She has whiplash and several strained muscles. Keep her head and chest supported." The woman motioned toward Haylen's legs. "Get your right elbow under her butt and use it to keep weight off of her abdomen and support her legs."
"Understood", I said, nodding.
Crouching, I gently folded my arms under the injured Scribe as instructed. Even going as slowly as I could, she groaned as I lifted her from the bed, clutching at my arm.
"Good, good", Blake said and began ushering me toward the door. I kept my gait as steady as possible, allowing my arms to absorb as much of the motion as I could to keep from jarring Haylen.
When the lift began its journey upward, she grunted, but nothing more.
"Are you taking care of her tonight?" Blake asked his partner.
Susan nodded. "I promised Rose a romantic night. Who can think of anything better than looking after a patient?"
"I can think of plenty", the other man grumbled. "Helen would kill me if I did that. 'Hey hun, you wanna take care of an injured person for date night?' No offense Haylen."
A small smile flickered across the small woman's swollen face. "None taken." Her voice was just as strained as it had been before.
"Yes well Rose likes it", Susan shot back. "Or who knows, maybe she just likes spending quiet time with me more than Helen does with you."
"You know one of these days she's gonna hear you say that and-"
"And she and Rose are best friends." The smirk that spread across Susan's face seemed a little too deliberate. "You think I'm guessing here?"
No answer came, at least not immediately. Instead, Blake cocked an eyebrow at his partner, definitely unsure of what to say.
"I'm… gonna assume you're pulling my leg."
Susan shrugged. "You can assume what you like."
Maybe I'm not one to talk, but this type of banter seems a little… odd. Shit giving is outside my purview for the most part though.
A moment later, the lift lurched to a stop, Haylen grunted again, and we began the short walk back down to Sanctuary. No one else spoke as we made our way to the settlement and into the house they'd designated as the infirmary. It was actually right beside the one they used as holding cells.
While I'd wanted to keep Haylen in the Vault, the two physicians insisted they bring her down here. After seeing inside, I understood why. They'd managed to find a half dozen hospital beds, several oxygen tanks, cabinets full of medical supplies, and even a few AEDs and a small life support apparatus. Most of that would be unnecessary for the Scribe, but the much better bed and immediate access to supplies alone would make her more comfortable.
"This one", a red-haired woman said as we entered, motioning toward a bed tucked against the far wall. Rose looked to be the same age as Susan but, like with the physician, it was impossible to tell how old that was.
Carefully striding toward the prescribed bed, I slowly lowered the Scribe into it and stepped away.
"Give us some time to get her comfortable", Susan said, motioning toward the door. "I'll come find you when she's situated."
My gaze shifted from her to Haylen.
Susan didn't have the patience for that either, apparently. "Go", she ordered, pointing to the door.
If they want space… they're the ones who know what they're doing here, regardless of how I felt, so I turned and marched back out into the darkening evening. Blake followed me, rubbing his face as he walked.
"Hey", the other physician said as we stopped just outside the door, "for what it's worth, her injuries aren't as bad as they look. The ribs and whiplash will take a while to heal all the way, but she should be good enough to transport to Cambridge in five days, a week at most." He nodded at me. "If someone had to do this and make it look real, you did a pretty good job."
An unexpected sigh of relief escaped me and I felt my shoulder slump ever so slightly.
Haylen was injured, but it wasn't too bad.
Blake yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "Anyway, Helen's waiting for me. I don't have a hot date like those two", he motioned back toward the building, "but if I don't get back before Glen's bedtime, she's gonna have my ass." He began walking. "I'll be back tomorrow morning to relieve Susan."
With that, I was left alone standing in front of the house. Several settlers were milling in the area, the kids running around the street, as usual, staring my way, though that had started dying down. It was quiet and relatively peaceful.
Unfortunately, I knew better than anyone that wouldn't last much longer.
Even if Haylen can convince the Brotherhood she was coerced into revealing Listening Post Bravo, we were about to paint a huge target on Sanctuary and the other settlements that would soon fall under the Minuteman network.
"Are you sure about this Preston?" Sturges asked. He was eyeing his friend with a combination of doubt and confusion. "We don't gotta do this."
The strangely dressed man shook his head. "No, I'm not sure." He pointed at me. "That's what he's for."
"You're the one who has to make the decision though", Alex interjected. She looked just as unsure as Sturges.
Deacon shifted. "Nah, I see what he's saying." His eyes hadn't left me since Preston made the announcement to the small group. "Do you understand what you're signing up for?
"What do you mean?"
"Everyone knows the Minutemen failed." He looked at the others around the room. "That's no insult to anyone here, we all know what happened after Becker died." Preston's eyes dropped to the ground. "You're suggesting Preston takes over as the new general, but they don't have the manpower, nor the support to stage anything major. You're gonna have to be their support."
Their support? "I intend to help." It's my idea.
The railroad agent shook his head. "That ain't what I mean. You want to get everyone under one command structure, that makes sense, but you won't find any stomach for that with how the Minutemen 'ended', even in the Railroad."
I cocked my head at the man. "You're saying I need to give people a reason to trust the Minutemen again."
A small smile slipped across his face as Deacon nodded. "That's right. Show people why they should put their faith in them again after Quincy."
"If I do that, I'm advertising my partnership with the Minutemen. That puts a target on them."
Another nod came in response. "True, but if you wanna do this, just like Haylen's hair-brained scheme, you need to give people something to latch onto."
"What about the Railroad?" Preston asked. "Are your people willing to go along with this?"
Deacon shrugged. "I could speculate, but I don't know if that does anyone any good."
The right course of action there was obvious, so obvious it was the easiest answer we had in this situation.
And yet…
"We… the three of us need to meet with Desdemona."
All eyes fell on me again.
"That's probably the best move", Deacon agreed.
"What? Me?" Preston pointed at himself.
I nodded. "You're the Minuteman leader. They'll want to meet you."
"But-"
Deacon clapped a hand on the man's shoulder. "Let me give you a piece of advice from my time out and about: don't think too much about this. Damon's right, if any of us want this to work, we need to get our shit together, and if that's gonna happen, the least we could do is get our respective leaders together."
"And what about the people in the Institute?"
That question felt like a deflection, but it was still a valid one.
"Don't worry about them", Deacon said. "If you get us onboard, Li's people will join too. They're well organized, but they're constantly operating on a knife's edge. The extra support will be more than welcome."
Preston frowned. "Okay… didn't think things would get this involved this quickly." He cleared his throat. "So when do we wanna do this?"
"Three days", I said. "Tomorrow is… the start of Haylen's operation. I want two days to make sure everything is okay."
"Seems reasonable." Deacon nodded. Even through his dark-tinted sunglasses, I felt his gaze grow sharper. "You know they're gonna be more interested in you than anyone else, right?"
"They?" I doubt it's just 'they'.
"Oh, me too, but I like to keep my own counsel." He turned to Preston for a moment. "No offense to you, but the biggest question mark here is our large armored friend. Both because a lot of the initial success rides on him and", his gaze returned to me, "the last time we saw him, things didn't go so well."
That's an understatement.
"I understand."
"Good, then it's a plan. Three days, we're heading to the Railroad."
Two more days…
Then I have to hit a Brotherhood depot a dozen klicks to the south while the volunteers take Haylen to Cambridge. It's supposed to be a relatively sparsely guarded position, which is why the Scribe and Danse chose it. Their thinking was it would give a little more cover to our story. Make sense; if she's supposed to be held captive, me being out on an operation would make it much easier to reach her.
Yeah, the next few days are going to be busy.
At least that was a relief.
Footsteps sounded from the house behind me.
"Damon", Susan called. When I turned to her, the physician was waving me inside
Haylen was lying in bed, pillows supporting her legs and neck and an IV drip in her arm. While we were trying to make it look like I'd let her dehydrate, I understand them using the drip. Hell, I probably would have too.
"Don't look so sad", the Scribe mumbled. "I'm the one in a hospital bed."
Sad? "I look sad?"
She attempted a shrug, wincing in pain. "I don't know, thought it sounded right."
"Hey", Rose said, laying a hand on the bed beside Haylen, "we gotta take care of something, shout if he starts hittin' you again."
The smile that spread across her face was strained. "Will do."
As the two of them walked out of the house, silence fell over us. Of course, there were still sounds of activity outside, but they barely registered in the small bubble around us. She looked more comfortable than she had in the Vault, at least. Not that it's saying much considering I'd just finished 'torturing' her…
"Are you gonna say anything?" she asked. "I don't read minds."
"Why did you let me go this far?"
"I already told you: this is what I needed to do to get back into the Brotherhood. There are a lot of people who don't need to die just because they follow Maxson." The words were pained but, somehow, the small woman's voice was as steady as ever.
"And you're willing to go through this for that."
She nodded the best she could through her neck brace. "There's a lot riding on this. The more people I can get away from the Brotherhood, the less fighting there'll be. That's better for everyone." Haylen fell quiet for a moment, her face going blank. Was she thinking? Or did something go wrong?
"Besides", she continued before I could do anything else, "I spent enough time around Cassandra, Thomas, and Julian… heck, I worked with Julian when they first brought him back."
Brought him back? Is that what you're gonna call it?
The thought must have come across in my body language because the Scribe smiled apologetically. At least that's what it looked like through her swollen face. "Sorry, when they took him. They thought, since I knew him the best out of anyone, I would be the best person for the job. He was scared and alone. He barely ate or drank for the first few days." Her eyes started shining. "He was always asking when he was going to see 'Cassy and Tommy' again. When he was going home."
Just as I thought the tears were going to spill over, Haylen screwed her eyes shut and took a deep breath. When they reopened, they were focused again. "I think that was when I first had doubts. None of the trainers considered his mental state when they started integrating him into classes. I was the only person he'd talk to, at least for a little while. Then he got quiet, started working harder and harder." Her eyes locked onto my visor. "He's only eight, you know. He fired a rifle for the first time about two weeks before I left. They had him on the range every day from then on. Who does that to a kid? To a kid who's been through what he has?"
Who indeed.
So she wasn't just doing this because we have a deal, she cares about the kid. There was more she hadn't said, questions I've heard muttered in passing before. 'Who does that to a kid?'. Most of that came after my integration into SPARTAN OPS. Most didn't know I'm a III. The question that almost always followed was 'how do you justify that?'.
Kids are malleable. It's easier to teach kids how to fight, especially when they don't know anything else. Given enough time or the right motivation, they'll become better students than any adult. It sounds like that's what's started happening with Julian.
"Child soldiers aren't uncommon. I was one."
The Scribe frowned. "Oh… is that why you want him back so bad?"
I nodded. "In part."
She hesitated for a moment, but I could already see the question forming on her face. It was the same furrowed brow and searching eyes Nate had when he asked it. "Do you mind if I ask how old you were? When the training started?"
"Five. I was twelve when I killed for the first time." I shrugged. "I'm not looking for pity, but I know what Julian's going through"
"And you want to get him back to Cassandra and Thomas…?"
"Because I know how important it is to hold on to what you have left." Because I didn't.
Haylen's mouth slowly drifted shut as her eyes searched me like she was seeing me for the first time.
"Well…" she said eventually, "a lot of things make a lot more sense now."
"Nate said something similar when he found out." So did Valentine. Perkins didn't say it, but it wouldn't be hard to imagine.
A small smile drifted across her face. "Most people would, I think."
"Probably."
Haylen shifted in her bed. "Well, I have a while before I get carried off to the Brotherhood. If you don't mind, I'm gonna get some sleep."
Even though she tried to hide it, I couldn't help but notice the bitter edge on her voice, even through her injured jaw. She had her part to play in this though, and I have mine. It isn't too late to stop this plan, but it's the best one we have. Besides… it's my best chance to get Julian back and, if she's willing to do this, I'm not going to say no.
"Understood", I said, turning to leave the house turned infirmary.
Susan and Rose were outside, talking quietly with a teenager, maybe Julian's age. He was on the shorter side with ragged brown hair and his eyes grew wide as he saw me emerge into the darkened street.
"Damon", Susan called, "sorry for the holdup, are you done in there?"
Uh-huh. 'Hold up'.
"Yes, she's trying to get some sleep."
She nodded. "Makes sense. We'll come get you if anything happens."
"Thanks."
There were two days to kill before we left for the Railroad, wherever that is. Deacon had, understandably, kept that to himself. I would like to be able to plan a route though. It's only going to be the three of us, I'm not risking anyone else coming along and compromising the party. Yes, MacCready would have a problem with that, but that's his problem, not mine. This isn't our short trip out to Oberland station to rendezvous with their team, this is us going to the Railroad's headquarters. We're doing this right, and I don't have the time or patience to make sure whoever wants to tag along doesn't make any mistakes.
My feet carried me back to the bridge and up the hill. There's a discussion I need to have with Danse and this will be the first time I've gotten to talk with him alone. That doesn't mean he'll be honest with me, but at the very least he won't be able to disengage by talking with someone else.
"How is she?" the Synth demanded after I ducked into the room that had become his holding cell. It was the most comfortable prison I've ever seen.
"Fine. Blake said she'll be ready to move in a few days."
A brief moment passed as the former Paladin struggled with his emotions. I couldn't tell exactly what they were, but I'm sure one of them was probably relief.
"So what are you here for?" he asked eventually.
"You've played along, but do you intend to help with this plan or not?" I cocked my head at him. "Or are you going to side with Maxson?"
He scoffed. "Do you expect me to say no?"
"I have no expectations, Danse. I do have plans of my own though, and if you stab us in the back, that's my plan B."
"You think I'd betray you without making sure it didn't come back to bite me?" The Synth shook his head. "I'm not that dumb."
"The Institute did."
This time Danse chuckled. It wasn't out of humor, more like an automatic response. "Yes, well, until you got there, they weren't bright enough to encrypt their Molecular Relay network. For people who are supposed to be incredibly smart, they're very stupid."
Arrogant would fit better, but all the same.
"Tell me", the other man continued, "why would you believe anything I have to say?"
I shrugged. "Give me a reason to." It was the same thing I said to Haylen.
He frowned. "Why would I care whether you believe me or not?"
"Because you won't survive doing this without help and I'm not willing to endanger the people here any more than I already am until I'm sure this will work."
"Oh really", he laughed again, this time with an edge. "You're Mr. Altruistic all of a sudden, huh? Turned over a new leaf and become the hero?" Danse shook his head. "You and I both know that isn't what's happening here."
It was my turn to laugh. "What have I done that suggests I'm heroic? Help Haylen? Save you? Those were both because you two are assets someone like me doesn't get access to very often. It's because you'll make fighting this war easier. My only concern for the Brotherhood is getting Julian back and minimizing the damage they do to Sanctuary and their network."
"That includes destroying the Brotherhood?" he asked, eyes narrowed.
"You already know the answer. What that looks like is up to you."
"What if I don't think you can?" He straightened, pulling his shoulders back and drawing himself up as tall as he could. "Maxson has more than enough manpower to overwhelm you."
Is that so? "Throwing bodies at a problem is rarely the right solution."
"We both know it isn't just bodies."
"So what you're saying is you want the Brotherhood to tear the Commonwealth apart trying to kill me?" I chuckled again. "Even if we assume they succeed, I'll make sure it costs more than they can afford. Then what happens with the Institute?"
No answer. The Synth stared at me, eyes narrowed. Maybe the Brotherhood can pin me down and kill me, but I will make it hurt. As always though, I'm going to bet on myself. So as they throw time, people, and resources at me, the Institute will have every opportunity to drive a knife in their back. The Brotherhood doesn't have the resources or experience to fight both me (and the soon-to-be Minutemen) and the Institute.
"This is a losing fight. Is that worth it when someone like Haylen thinks it's the wrong thing to do in the first place?"
Danse's back went stiff. "What do you mean 'someone like Haylen'?"
That struck some chord with him apparently. "Someone with the ability to see past the bullshit. Someone you care about."
Silence drifted over the large room as the Synth studied me, expression guarded. This is definitely one of those moments where I wish I was better at reading people. Yes, he was thinking, but what was he thinking about?
After a few moments, the former Paladin cleared his throat. "Haylen has spent a lot of time trying to convince me of what you're saying now." He paused again, frowning. "That what we stand for- what the Brotherhood stands for is harmful…" Danse trailed off as his eyes drifted to the floor between his boots. At the very least, I could gather he was having doubts. Whether that's a good thing or not, I don't know.
"Indiscriminate killing usually is."
He glanced at me. "Speaking from experience?" The question was a stab, but that's fine. He is right after all.
Though, not necessarily in the way he thinks.
"Yes", I replied with a nod.
He fell silent again as his gaze returned to the steel floor. It was a silence I've come to recognize all too well over the past few months. It wasn't quiet contemplation, more like a lit fuze, but you don't know how long it is.
"What was your answer?" the Synth finally asked, eyes still fixed on the ground.
"To?"
"You're here, not with the Institute. Whatever you wanted from them, you turned away to help these people. Why?"
Why did I choose to leave the Institute? I guess that's what you could call it. "Because I wanted to."
Danse met my gaze, eyes narrowed. "Is that really all? Because you wanted to?"
I nodded again. "It felt like the right thing to do, and I've spent long enough doing the wrong thing, I thought it was time for a change of pace." That may not have been the best justification, but it's all I've got. 'The right thing' depends on who's asking the question, right? In that moment, keeping Cass and Tommy safe felt like the right thing to do, so I did it.
It was an overly simplified explanation, but I wasn't going to discuss details with him.
"And you're saying", he said slowly, "I think the right thing is to go along with Haylen's plan."
"No. I don't think you know what to do, but you trust her."
"Huh", the former Paladin mumbled as he lowered himself onto his bed. There was an MRE open and half-eaten sitting beside him and the man took a bite of something that looked a lot like a bright red protein bar.
For a few heartbeats, the only sounds in the room were the gentle hum, probably a generator somewhere in the bunker, and him chewing.
"Was the decision easy to make?"
If you asked me that now, the answer would be yes. At that moment though…? "No. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. I'd do it again."
He nodded, taking another bite. This time, when the silence wrapped itself around us, it felt as though it was there to stay. Danse continued eating his bar, staring at the ground between his feet. He hadn't answered the question, but he appeared to be thinking about it. Did that mean Haylen hadn't managed to convince him? Or was this just more of that same consideration?
As much as I wanted to say he was just being stubborn, I can't fault him for being uncertain. Programming is hard to break.
With no sign he'd be continuing the conversation, I left the room, but I didn't go far. With the settlers relieved, it was my responsibility to guard the former Paladin. I probably could have requested a few to do it instead, but it isn't like I have anything else to do.
Two days… I'm sure I can fill that with drilling Preston's people, the soon-to-be Minutemen. That sounds like an abysmal way to spend the next few days though.
Maybe I can convince Deacon to do it. He's stuck here too.
X
Downtime is always difficult to deal with. There were two things it gave me time to do though. The first was to discuss a jamming system for the Institute's Molecular Relay network with Sturges. The engineer had theorized about it, but he'd never tried it. Probably because he never had a reason to.
Now that we have a reason to expect the Institute to infiltrate Sanctuary, countermeasures seemed like a good idea. I also requested he make a small, portable one. Sturges said he could, but it would be limited. It wouldn't last long or have a large effective radius, but it would give me options.
The second is a result of me having too much downtime. Downtime gives me too much time to come up with bad ideas.
And boy did I have one.
Deacon was the first person I found. He'd just finished giving some of the guards a crash course in close-quarters fighting, using one of the empty houses as a training ground. It wasn't a great way to train them, but if they get attacked and someone manages to get inside their perimeter, it'll be important.
Besides, it got me out of having to train them on something else.
"Deacon", I called as I marched toward the man. He was heading to the common house, probably to get something to eat. It was getting late.
"That can't be good", he muttered, turning to meet me. "What's up?"
Despite the darkening sky, the man was, as always, wearing sunglasses.
"You said Desdemona will need convincing." I stopped in front of the Railroad agent.
He nodded. "Yes… Are you gonna ask me how you can do that? Because it doesn't mean anything if I tell you."
"No." I shook my head. "I won't be able to convince her I'm on your side, but I can show her why she'd want me."
A brief pause followed, Deacon's eyebrow cocked at me.
"I'm listening…"
"Quincy. You think the Minutemen need a PR win. Everyone knows about Quincy. I can take it back with a little support."
Deacon frowned. "Quincy? You mean one of the Gunner's largest strongholds in the Commonwealth. Hell, probably in the northeast."
It wasn't long after I recovered from being shot and having a church dropped on me I decided to give the town a once over. The stronghold was on the north side of Boston and consisted of 15 rundown buildings reinforced with pretty much anything the Gunners could get their hands on. It reminded me of Goodneighbor. The key feature was the freeway looming over the settlement. There were a dozen shooting positions and, from what I could see, double that number of guards. It was a great position, the only access to the freeway a half klick to the west. On top of that, the structure was pockmarked with collapsing portions of the roadway. While I hadn't gotten a good count of the Gunners in the town, it was upwards of 100, easily.
Given enough time that's a force I could eliminate, but with the proximity to the airport, and the Brotherhood, I won't have the luxury of time.
And if the purpose of this little exercise is to gain the Railroad's cooperation, having a few of them tag along to provide support could go a long way.
"You wanted me to convince her." I shrugged. "This is me doing that."
The corners of his mouth quirked upward. "Your brand of selling yourself is to take on Quincy." The agent huffed. "You must be awfully confident." The amusement drained from what I could see of his face. "That why you thought you could take us down?"
Why I thought I could eliminate the Railroad? "Why?"
"Call it peace of mind."
They'd rigged the church to blow to cover their retreat. The Railroad was much better prepared than I gave them credit for. Considering they assumed we were friendly at the time, the element of surprise was a major bonus for me, but who's to say they didn't have any other tricks in store?
"I thought I could because you had your guard down. I'll take any advantage I can get."
"What about a straight-up fight?"
I cocked my head at the man. "I'll always pick myself in a fight." One that I choose to engage in, anyway. "Again: why?"
He shrugged. "Trying to gauge you. I've never had the… opportunity to see you in action."
While I wasn't sure how asking me whether I'd have been able to wipe out the Railroad did that, it wasn't really my concern.
"I'll need time to do recon and work out a strategy."
"It doesn't sound like you're asking me whether the Railroad will agree to this", he responded.
"The Gunners have repeatedly tried to capture Synths and they're a threat to everyone, including the Brotherhood."
"Touche." Deacon's forehead wrinkled as he considered my proposal. It was a good deal for him: a major threat is eliminated, they get to see me work, and the Minutemen get their big opening.
"Alright", he agreed. "We'll run it by Des tomorrow. She'll probably go for it- we hate those bastards almost as much as the Institute." The Railroad agent shook his head. "No, actually, I personally hate them more."
Their reputation wasn't great.
"One thing though." I nodded for him to continue. "We should bring Mack."
"MacCready?"
Deacon nodded in return. "He's got experience with them. And he's a crack shot. If you want to convince Des to join the Minutemen, you'll need to show them you aren't the only thing you have to offer."
Inexperience on an operation like that is how people get dead. MacCready isn't inexperienced though. Plus, the man makes a good point: why would the Railroad want to ally themselves with the Minutemen if they aren't a combat effective force? The main benefit to them and their mission would be the added manpower. If that added manpower is worthless, why would they put themselves at risk of exposure?
"Agreed, I'll talk to-"
"Don't worry about it", Deacon interrupted. "I already did."
He already did? I cocked my head. "Why?"
"Even if you didn't plan on doing something crazy like attacking Quincy, my point about other people still stands. Mack is a good fighter. Plus, I think Dez'll like him."
If you say so.
"We'll see about him coming to Quincy. I'll make that decision tomorrow."
This time, the smile found its way all the way across Deacon's face. "Hedging bets I see." He nodded again. "Sure, that's fine. Now… if you'll excuse me, there's some food that needs eating before I hit the sack. Don't want to start tomorrow's journey on an empty stomach, after all."
I turned to walk away when the Railroad agent's suggestion reminded me, I'm supposed to ask about Curie.
"Wait." The other man cocked an eyebrow behind his sunglasses. "Curie. MacCready needs her help with something. Do you know where she is?"
He nodded slowly. "I do... Let's take things one step at a time. We figure out if we're gonna work together, then we get into specifics."
Right. I nodded.
As the two of us parted ways, I walked past the row of planters lining Sanctuary's main street. Charlie was still there, working to keep the crops alive. He still didn't allow anyone to help him, glaring at anyone who dared stray near his plants. To his credit, they were large and healthy looking, which was a testament to his dedication.
It was also a painful display to watch. The guy was weeding them, digging at the unwanted tagalongs with a trowel before pulling them from the soil. Every few seconds, the small gardening implement would either slip from his shaking hand, or he'd have to stop, panting. He was on the second to last planter and, as he noticed me watching him, he adopted his customary glare. He'd, somehow, grown even thinner over the last month, barely more than skin on bone. The guy wasn't going to last much longer, but he clung to those plants with a desperation I didn't see from many.
They were all he had left. I guess everyone needs something to hold onto.
Tonight wasn't technically my night to scout the perimeter, but I'd be gone for at least tomorrow, if not more.
Maybe that was just the justification I was using, these people need all the practice they can get. The real answer is I haven't done anything for several days besides hang around Sanctuary… aside from Haylen's 'interrogation'. I don't mind sleeping every night, but being able to do so while also having no way to spend that energy was uncomfortable.
"Hey Damon", Brenda called as I approached the gate. She seemed to have recovered from my chiding Phillips the other day. Or maybe she hadn't held that against me. She was standing just inside the wall along with three others. They were all armed, probably the night's patrol.
"What can we do for ya?"
"I'll take tonight's patrol."
The brown-haired woman frowned. "There a reason why?"
"Fresh air."
"Pfft." She started laughing. "Damon, we're already outside. Besides, do you get any fresh air in that tin can of yours?"
"It's filtered", I replied with a shrug.
"Yeah", one of the other guards muttered. He was a little taller than Brenda with a shaved head and thick beard. I think he was one of the guys with her the other night. Clay was his name, right? "Sounds real fresh to me."
Brenda waved the challenge away. "Look, look, I ain't gonna try to stop you, but we'd still like to get out there and walk our patrols. The more we do this, the better we'll be at it."
An image of the half dozen guards I've caught half asleep flashed through my mind. It's good to know some people here take this seriously.
"Feel free."
"Really…" she said, squinting at me. "You aren't gonna try something like the first night you were here again, are you?"
While I hadn't been thinking about that, it wasn't a terrible idea.
Actually, now that she brought it up, that sounds like a good idea. Maybe a little less violent than the first time around.
"That would defeat the purpose of me doing it."
The four guards all shared a glance.
"So you're saying 'yes'", another man said.
Whether I do it or not, they'll be paranoid all night now. I felt a small smile drift onto my face. As usual, schadenfreude is one of the few non-combat activities I enjoy.
Without answering, I stepped past them, swung the door open, and began across the bridge. The idea of watching them squirm for a little while was enticing. Get them uncomfortable before I give them anything to really be concerned about.
Alex was right. I'm an asshole.
We all have our flaws.
X
"You're an asshole."
As I followed the small group back into Sanctuary, each of them shot me an irritated glance.
"So I've been told."
Brenda rounded on me. "You don't think you could have actually done something instead of teasing us all night?"
"Yes, but that wasn't the point", I replied with a nod.
She didn't look happy with that answer. "Then what was the point?"
"To keep you vigilant."
"Well, I'd say you did that alright." The guard threw her hands up. "The last thing I need is you appearing out of nowhere."
While I have to admit, I was having a bit of fun with them, that was also a red flag. "What if I hadn't been a friendly?"
"We'd be dead then. How does giving all of us heart attacks change that?"
The other guards nodded their agreement.
"You now know someone might do that. Besides", I shrugged, "it was amusing."
Each of the four settlers glared at me with something between fury and annoyance.
After a few seconds, Brenda cleared her throat. "I'm starting to wish you were more like the stories Sturges and Preston told about you."
That me would have done the same thing, I just wouldn't have had as much fun doing it. "Careful what you wish for."
Clay scoffed. "Oh believe me, if I didn't have to spend four hours shitting my pants, I'd take that wish."
It was still dark, the sun several hours away from breaking the eastern horizon, and they'd just rotated shifts. I was tempted to go back out and do the same thing with the new patrol, but scaring one group shitless in a night was probably sufficient. Besides, my presence out there, no matter what the purpose, would be a distraction if they knew I might do something like what I did to Brenda's group.
No, I'd let the next shift do their jobs. Despite my amusement though, this was something we should probably take care of. I wasn't saying that just to get under their skin. There are plenty of threats that can sneak through the forest, some of them even carry guns. The Brotherhood doesn't do subtle tactics, not when it comes to combat, but those are the Institute's bread and butter. If I, begrudgingly, have to compliment Nate, it's his adaptability. He was a grunt his entire career, but he's taken to the Institute's resources well. Coursers would be the main threat, considering their advanced training and active camouflage.
"Get used to it; I'm going to keep doing it until you stop me."
"And if I tell Preston you're distracting us?" Brenda asked.
"I'll tell him it's better to be distracted than dead."
The guard smiled. It wasn't friendly.
"Uh uh. I'm calling bullshit on that one big guy. The first thing you told any of us is being distracted is a great way to get people killed. Isn't that why you kicked Phillips off his post?"
I cocked my head at the dark-haired woman. "At least you listen." She is right after all; being distracted leads to being dead. "That's part of the reason I'd be out there."
"Sure, yeah, you can mess with us and patrol the settlement." Brenda snorted. "I'll believe that one when I see it." She waved me away. "Don't you have a trip to get ready for?"
It was 0230, we weren't leaving for another four hours, and it isn't like I have much to prep. With their slumping postures and wide-eyed stares, they all looked tired, probably from constantly worrying about where I'd come up next.
Maybe I'd had a little too much fun with them.
"Affirmative. Go get some sleep, maybe you'll have better luck next time."
"Right", one of them muttered as I began toward the settlement's main street. "Maybe I'll shoot you next time, tin man."
With several hours to kill, I decided it would be a good time to take a look at the weapons Li's people (and Nate, apparently) had sent us. While I'd had the opportunity to do so for a few days, there were more important things to take care of. Now though, with the only people up the two dozen guards, most construction projects finished, and nothing I could do outside of the settlement in the next four hours, that would be as good a way to spend the time as any.
Inside the armory, I pulled one from the rack and turned it over in my hands. The weapon was light for its size, but it appeared to be made for combat. The barrel was high profile so it could take a lot of heat without degrading, with a sturdy handguard around it and mounting rails on all four sides. The receiver was compact, but felt solid, and had a telescoping stock. The rifle appeared to chamber 7.62X51mm which was good because there was plenty of that going around and it was a good all-around cartridge. It didn't have the penetrating power of the .300 Win Mag my MK18 fired, but it would handle most foot soldiers without much trouble.
That was one thing that bothered me about my rifle. It had a ton of punch for a relatively compact gun, but it was stuck in a dead space between foot soldiers and power armor-equipped ones. Without hitting the lenses, it took several rounds on top of one another to dig through that armor. Granted, it would be even worse against Mjolnir, but the last time I checked, the Brotherhood wasn't fielding these things.
Maybe the Railroad still has my McMillan. That sniper had plenty of stopping power.
Setting the rifle on the kitchen counter, my hands worked quickly to disassemble the rifle. It was incredibly similar to the MK18, so I had it broken down in a matter of seconds. Once it was, I inspected each piece, both to double check there were no hidden surprises, and to admire the craftsmanship. Yes, I'd trusted Owens' assessment to this point, but there's no reason to not be careful when given the opportunity.
Li's people did good work though. Everything was well made and fit in its place to perfection. Even the upper and lower receivers slid together with an almost indiscernible seam. They hadn't been producing conventional rifles when I'd been there, so the quality of the weapon spoke volumes about their manufacturing capabilities.
After reassembling the first rifle, I did the same with the rest. Each told the same story: no monitoring devices, and top-notch craftsmanship.
Even after that was finished, I still had hours to go.
All I've had to do over the past few days is nothing dammit.
Should I check on Haylen?
No… Probably not. She's going to be asleep, and Blake said she'd be ready to move in a few days. No reason to disrupt her recovery.
I slipped into the back room and downed an MRE and some water. There was always Danse, but he still seemed… distracted after the other day. Hopefully, he was leaning toward assisting in Haylen's insane plan.
The patter of soft footsteps drifted into the house as I pulled my helmet back on. A few seconds later, Dogmeat wandered in, sniffing at the night air. He noticed me as I stepped back out into the hall, assuming his customary stare before slowly approaching.
Entertaining a dog for the next two and a half hours didn't sound all that enticing.
He began sniffing around my armored boots before working his way up my legs. Even though I'd been around for almost two weeks now, the dog didn't seem to know what to make of me. Not sure why that would matter, or why he was so intent on finding me. Nate was the one who wanted to bring the dog with us.
Damn… that first trip to Diamond City seemed like another life too.
With little else to do, I spent the remaining time walking the settlement. Most of the night guards patrolling inside Sanctuary offered me nods as I passed and, when I checked the watch positions, everyone was awake and attentive. Whenever they noticed me, they'd greet me in the same way, but I didn't miss how their postures grew a little stiffer until I left.
There's no way they didn't hear about what happened to Phillips, or what I'd said to Brenda. At least they responded.
Eventually, the sky began fading from black to a dull blue as the stars began dimming to the coming sun. Settlers started rousing themselves and slowly trickled out of their houses.
Deacon, MacCready, and Preston were three of the first, and I found them eating breakfast in the commons.
"Well good morning!" the Railroad agent beamed. "How was your beauty sleep?"
"Didn't get any", I answered, shaking my head. "Too much sleep and not enough activity over the past few days."
"Oh yeah?" Preston said. "What is this I hear about you tormenting first watch last night?" The Minuteman didn't sound upset, if anything there was some amusement in his voice.
That was quick. "I wanted to see if they were up to the task."
He cocked an eyebrow. At least that was easier to see with his oversized hat sitting on the table beside him. "Is that what you call it?"
"Yes." I nodded.
"And?"
"It'll do if whoever's attacking has spotlights and bells on them."
"I'm glad you have so much confidence in us." MacCready snorted.
"Yeah, he's always there for reassurance", Preston added. "Can you give us a few minutes to finish eating and wake up? We're gonna be stuck with you the next few days, I could use a bit of peace and quiet this morning."
Reassurance won't help if you're dead. I nodded and left the three of them to their breakfast. All this waiting reminded me of countless interminable hours sitting on ONI Prowlers or, rarely, UNSC vessels awaiting deployment. I'd rather be shooting and being shot at than sitting around doing nothing. At least that's interesting.
Soon enough, my companions were finished and geared. The sky was dyed orange and yellow now, which meant the sun was close to breaking the western horizon. By now, the settlement was almost in full swing, with people tending to crops, doing their morning checks on their fortifications, and greeting each other after another night survived.
"Let's get a move on", Deacon said as they met me at the front gate. "I'm interested to see how this all plays out."
Preston grunted. "You say that like you're a bystander."
"Oh, I am", the agent answered as I swung the door open and stepped through. "I've already made my mind up."
"Is that a good thing or bad thing?"
We began across the bridge toward our destination. Deacon still hadn't told any of us where the Railroad is, which is aggravating, but also understandable.
The light-skinned man smirked. "I'll let you make your mind up there."
The man was too mercurial to take a guess on, and that would be if I was halfway competent at reading people under normal circumstances.
It didn't matter if he won't be involved in whatever deliberation would happen, or at the very least be minimally involved, I needed to focus on what I'm going to say to Desdemona. Considering the last interaction we had, I still have no clue how to approach it despite having two days to think. Deacon wants me to sell my idea about Quincy, but how the hell am I supposed to do that? And that probably won't happen for a little while considering Haylen's plan, and the need to figure out what's going on between the Gunners and Brotherhood. Not to mention the Raiders moving in from the north.
Play it by ear.
Oh, great advice.
The Railroad agent took point as we slipped into the woods, heading east. It was odd to be following someone, but if he wasn't going to tell us where we were going, that was the only option.
While we walked, the sun broke over the horizon, orange light spearing through the forest in bright rays. My visor polarized to block out the worst of the glare, but I caught Preston hiding his eyes beneath his oversized hat and MacCready pulled his cap down over his face.
Deacon maneuvered through the trees, trying to keep out of the blinding light at much as possible, but that only did so much.
The effects would lessen as the sun climbed into the sky, but that meant we still had an hour or so before it wasn't directly ahead of us.
45 minutes into our journey, both the others were constantly moving to keep trees or brush between them and the sun. Another benefit of my-
"Stop", I muttered and halted beside a tree. Preston, MacCready, and Deacon froze. There was something on the edge of my hearing. I couldn't tell exactly what it was, but it was so low and deep, I felt it more than heard it. Whatever it was, the noise was coming from the south, getting louder.
Preston shifted. "What are-"
"Quiet."
Whatever I was hearing continued increasing in volume over the next few seconds. I still couldn't make it out though.
Turning the gain up on my audio, the dull drone turned into rapid distinct beats. It was almost like-
"Vertibirds", I said.
The other men turned to me.
"Where?" Deacon asked.
I shook my head. "Don't know, somewhere to the south. They're heading this way."
Preston looked alarmed. "What? The Brotherhood's never come this far northwest before."
"I know."
"Hmm", Deacon hummed. "So what do you want to do?"
"Wait, see what they're up to."
The Railroad agent nodded. "Okay."
Over the next few minutes, the beating grew steadily louder. They were still on course north. It was hard to tell, but it didn't sound like they were headed directly for us. At cruising speed, those things move at almost 200 kilometers per hour. If they were coming toward our position, they'd be getting louder much faster. If anything it sounded like they were moving west…
"I hear them now", Preston muttered.
West…
As far as I know, there's nothing to the west the Brotherhood would be interested in. The only things that far from the city are small, scattered settlements.
A creeping suspicion settled into my head. There's one thing they may be interested in. If they knew the settlements to the north of the city were networked with Sanctuary, and those settlements were resisting the Brotherhood's demands, the first place I'd go is the center of that network.
"They may be heading to Sanctuary."
Both MacCready and Preston shot me an alarmed glance.
"How can you tell?" the newly minted Minuteman leader asked.
"It sounds like they're heading northwest. There's nothing within 40 klicks in that direction of the city they'd be interested in except Sanctuary."
"If that's the case we have to-"
"No", I interrupted.
Preston cocked an eyebrow at me. "What do you mean 'no'?"
"If the Brotherhood is heading toward Sanctuary", Deacon said, "we won't get there in time. Besides, there isn't much we could do if they head there en force."
"What?" the Minuteman asked, voice low and angry. "So you just want me to abandon my people?"
"No", Deacon replied as he looked at me. "How long would it take you to get back?"
We'd traveled maybe 5 kilometers. "10 minutes." None of them would add much value in a fight. Yes, MacCready and Deacon have experience, but that doesn't mean much against T-60. Hell, I'm not sure I could fend off a full-blown assault even with the preparations the settlement has been making. Not if they've brought along air support. They just don't have the firepower to take down Vertibirds.
If I had the goddamn McMillan.
"How far is the Railroad from here?" I asked Deacon.
"Not far." There was a hint of hesitation in his voice, but he understood.
"Are you three good to get there on your own?"
Both Preston and MacCready opened their mouths in unison to protest, but I held up a hand. "We don't have time. Whatever happens, it's going to happen before you can get back to Sanctuary. Go to the Railroad, get things worked out." I turned to Deacon. "I'm trusting you with them. You have my frequency, right?" He nodded. "I expect a call within the next two hours."
He cocked an eyebrow. "A call for…?"
"To update me on status, and tell me where I'm coming to meet you."
"Uh-huh", Deacon said, frowning.
He didn't say anything else, and the internal clock in my head was ticking. The sound of pounding rotors was still to the southwest, which meant they weren't at Sanctuary yet, but the longer I stand here with my thumb up my ass, the closer they get.
"Deacon, I'm normally not patient." I squared up to him. "Right now I'm very not patient."
After another heartbeat's hesitation, he shrugged. "Alright, I'll give you a buzz. Try not to die."
Both other men were staring at me.
"Damon-"
I shook my head. "We'll talk after this, I have to go."
Without waiting for a response, I slipped away from the group and into the forest. Whatever the Brotherhood is up to, the absolute last thing I need is for them to hit Sanctuary. There's too much involved in that place now and… and-
I don't want anything to happen to it, or the people who live there.
A/N: Ah yes, my favorite. The double entendres chapter title. Yes, Haylen was being tortured during this chapter, but is that the only person? It was actually pretty uncomfortable for me to write, which is something I try to get across in the characters' reactions. Especially Damon. This is a theme I'll be exploring A LOT (and is the primary theme in an entire section of the story), but I'm not going to spoil anything. It's one of those scenes I've had in mind for literally years and it's something I'm excited to write. But. That's something you'll have to wait for. I'll see everyone next time!
Next Chapter: 8/26, Dig Two Graves