A/N: Fair tidings all those who I greet on this fine day, I have returned! There are times when I decide something isn't up to snuff and then end up rewriting significant portions of it. This, like chapter 50, is one of those chapters. The connotations in this one are… very different from 50 (obviously), but on top of having some fun, I wanted to make sure this chapter had a certain feel. Things are starting to get interesting and we'll see if Damon is able to pull this off. Something I've been trying to do is make sure other characters have significant roles. It annoys me when writers go out of their way to make everything that happens happen because of the MC. That isn't how the world works. Damon is important to the story, but he isn't the only one in it. Anyway, that's enough rambling, feel free to leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Chapter 52: The End and the Beginning

Shortly after Preston left with the two Railroad counter-intel agents, we were preparing for our journey back to Quincy. Glory, Charlie, Deacon, MacCready, and two other Railroad soldiers were double-checking their equipment. Their grapples were pneumatically launched with an expanding hook and electric winch. They were high quality which shouldn't have surprised me.

Glory was bringing her large caliber rifle and she'd packed a night vision system for the scope. Another operative had their own, and they'd given MacCready a third. The other three had goggles while each carried a satchel loaded with grenades and a few plastic explosives. They'd given me two bricks of the same thing. I've seen Insurrectionists use this before… I think it's called Semtex. Each had a radio detonator and its own individual transmitters.

That wouldn't be enough though.

"Where do you plan on meeting us?" Glory asked as she looped her satchel strap over her shoulder.

"Same area we stopped last night before getting to Quincy. We'll stage there before moving to the town."

"You'll be able to pack enough explosives on your own? You don't need someone to come with you?"

I shook my head. "None of what I have is this big." I hefted one of the 10-centimeter-long bricks. "And I'm not using that much."

She smiled. "Alright. There's no such thing as too many explosives."

While I couldn't necessarily disagree with her, my stash isn't unlimited. All I have is what I've managed to take from the Brotherhood during my raids, and that started drying up as they realized how many resources they were losing. It would be hard to get more unless I hit one of their outposts, and that isn't something I want to do yet. Not until the Minutemen are better equipped to handle whatever response they send their way.

"I'll bring enough."

"Enough flirting", Desdemona said. The corner of her mouth was quirked up in the beginnings of a smile. "I talked it over with John, we'll have a team on standby in case things don't go to plan." Her eyes fell on me. "Make sure things go to plan."

That was a welcome change of heart from the Railroad leader. When I proposed this yesterday, I don't think 'skeptical' was a strong enough word. Now she's willing to put a quick reaction force in the area?

Maybe I'm more convincing than I thought.

Yeah right. What's more likely is they see the writing on the wall and are looking for a reason to join with a larger force.

While I would love for things to go as planned, there's a reason for the saying 'a plan only lasts until first contact.'

"Yes ma'am", I replied with a nod.

Glory nodded as well. "We'll stay radio-silent unless absolutely necessary." She smirked. "Give us a call if you can't find us."

If I can't find you. Uh-huh.

The seven of us left the bunker and, as they began south toward Boston, I broke off and went east. My closest stash of supplies was on the way to Quincy, but it didn't have any explosives. A safe house I set up to the east, about five klicks north of the airport, had several boxes of charges I'd taken from one of my first caravan raids. I put it there because it would be much easier to get them to the Brotherhood's main base, instead of having to hump them across the Commonwealth. Now I'm wishing I hadn't.

They'll be fine. The Railroad has operated for a long time without me. I don't need to be there to hold their hands.

It was about a two-hour detour to get to the safe house. This one was in the back of a storefront. I don't know the name of the small town around it, but most of the buildings were relatively intact. The only issue, and why no one chose to settle there, is most of it was beginning to flood. I don't know if it was a result of the bomb that had been dropped to the southwest, or if it was natural erosion, but the sea level was high enough I was slogging through ankle-deep water.

Radioactive seawater isn't usually conducive to healthy living conditions. Made for a great hideout.

When I first found the place, it had a small band of Supermutants in it. I enjoyed wiping them out. Especially since with its proximity to the airport. No point in using guns and risk drawing the Brotherhood's attention.

Pushing the thought of snapping bones and spraying blood out of mind, I slipped into the small building. As I made my way to the back, I was careful to step over the tripwires I had laid beneath the water's surface. The C4 charges I was after were in three steel crates. It was a lot more than I'd need for this operation. I took eight bricks, each about a quarter the size of the Semtex charges, connected the detonators, and gathered their transmitters. All of it went into another satchel and, for good measure, I grabbed three grenades and a spool of wire. Always useful for setting traps.

Five minutes later, I was back out of the town and heading west to put some space between myself and the airport. Last thing I need now is to attract the attention of the Brotherhood. Again. Though… with the McMillan slung across my back, if I do need to take down one of their Vertibirds-

How about I get to Quincy and take care of that first?

Right.

Morning faded into afternoon as I, for what seemed like the hundredth time, slipped through the forest of sickly-looking trees, brown underbrush, rocky outcroppings, and rolling hills.

On a few occasions, I hunkered down beneath the forest's canopy, or in the shadows cast by rocks as I heard Vertibirds nearby. Staying away from their regular patrol routes kept the delays to a minimum. It helped that, unlike the last time I was out on my own, I kept my head out of the clouds.

Like we had last night, I skirted around Boston's suburbs. There was plenty of time to get to Quincy, no reason to risk finding trouble in the city.

My HUD read 1430 when I stopped for a drink. They'd probably reached the rendezvous by now. It would be another hour and a half for me but that's fine. If they were smart, Deacon and Glory would take the time to show the others what we'd seen last night and walk through the plan with the town in sight. It's always helpful to see your target before you have to engage.

The rest of the journey passed uneventfully. Once I got south of the city, it didn't take me long to reach the rendezvous and find the waiting group.

"This seems ambitious", MacCready whispered as I stopped beside him.

So everyone keeps saying… "Stick to the plan."

"Uh-huh. Right. Can you actually do this?"

A common misconception in combat is that numbers win fights. To an extent, that's true, but if a smaller force can break pieces off their larger opposition without taking appreciable losses, they can win that fight. All I need is to keep individual engagements controlled. Granted, any good leader

"Yes."

The former mercenary glared at me for a few heartbeats before grunting. "Alright then… this'll be an interesting evening."

X

Getting close enough to the wall to plant the two Semtex charges was an exercise in patience. Which is to say, for me, frustration. Even with the darkness of night wrapped around me, their patrols were a lot better than the ones the Raiders ran at their base to the north. On top of having a smaller perimeter to guard, they were better organized with overlapping routes. I originally intended to set them on the east and west corners of the town, but that wasn't going to work. Those areas had both foot patrols and overwatch from the buildings beyond.

Instead, I placed one on the wall just behind a building that was close enough to provide visual cover from both a guard walking their route along it and the freeway above Quincy. The second I reached through the slats in the wall and set it just inside about 50 meters to the west.

Throwing two of the smaller C4 charges into windows after making sure they weren't occupied, I retreated to about 100 meters, far enough into the trees I'd be shielded from any overpressure from the blasts.

With the preparations ready, I laid behind the large sniper rifle I'd left in position and peered through its scope at the overpass. The four Gunners I'd seen earlier were still in the same positions: one on each gun emplacement and two with smaller rifles. I caught glimpses of another two, possibly three guards. There wasn't much I'd be able to do about those unless they were stupid enough to expose themselves once the fighting started.

Even if I despise them, I have to give these people credit: they're a lot better than most around here.

Everything was in place, all I need to do is wait.

My clock read 2113.

Two minutes.

The next few seconds were spent switching between my first four targets. I'd take out the dismounted guards first; they didn't have the heaviest hardware but those two were mobile. I don't know how thick the armored shields on the emplacements were, but there was no guarantee the Gunners behind them would be at the right angle for me to shoot through the slot. That's one of the reasons I wanted the McMillan back. Unless that steel is at least two centimeters thick, this would get through.

2114.

I couldn't see the others, but by now they should be positioned directly below the east side of the overpass. The Railroad was good at keeping quiet and maintaining a small footprint. This isn't that. Their job is to make as much chaos as possible. It's too late to hope they were up to this. They need to be, or things would get very tight very quickly.

From what I've seen, the group is good at adapting quickly. They have to be to operate in the world of espionage, or whatever this place's version of it is.

2115.

No sooner had the clock ticked over than my finger tightened around the McMillan's trigger. The rifle boomed. My first shot was dead on at 400 meters, the massive projectile turning the Gunner's head into a cascade of red, tinged slightly orange in my visor's night vision.

Turning the rifle, I chambered a new round before his body had a chance to hit the ground. My next round hit a little low, blowing the top half of the second target's head into the air. It didn't matter, he was dead.

The first emplacement took a 12.7mm bullet and I watched as a spray of blood exploded from the far side, and the last Gunner was down an instant later.

With the booming report of the fourth shot fading when I hit the detonator for the first brick of semtex-

The blast sent a massive cloud of dirt and debris soaring into the sky with a deafening boom that put the McMillan to shame. My teeth rattled in my skull.

Worse than the bang was the boom.

At the same instant the sound washed across the forest, the pressure wave slammed into me. It was hard enough loose dirt and leaves were blown from the trees, filling the forest with a cloud of dust and debris of its own. It was almost impossible to see Quincy. While I hadn't thought it would be that large, the possibility of having my vision obscured is why I took the overwatch out first.

It didn't take more than a heartbeat for me to decide the other bomb could wait for an emergency.

The two smaller C4 charges wouldn't do that which is probably a good thing.

When the first one went off, I was leaping to my feet and starting for the town. That would have been their cue to begin their climb.

By the time I set off the second, I was nearing the wall-

Or what was left of it.

With my visor working overtime to filter through the dirt scattered in the air, I didn't see the extent of the damage until I was almost crossing the perimeter. A 20-meter section of the wall was gone and the south face of the building behind had collapsed.

Sounds of a gun battle on the overpass above Quincy rained down as I slipped through the hole in their perimeter. There were a handful of bodies scattered around the detonation site, three of the four missing parts.

As soon as I edged around the corner of the now half-collapsed building, I caught sight of six Gunners running toward me. Or, they were running toward the explosion. Their response was slow, which is exactly what I wanted to accomplish with the other two, smaller detonations. That being said, a little more chaos wouldn't be a bad idea.

The response team registered me just as the MK18 barked a round into the closest mercenary's head. The second was also missing most of theirs by the time the rest began scrambling for cover in what looked like a rundown grocery store.

Slipping back behind the building, I pulled another C4 charge and its detonator from my satchel and hurled it at the squad's cover. It blew and I watched as one body was flung into the air, missing its left leg. The others were scattered as the wall of the small store was turned into shrapnel. While the trauma from the explosion and flying brickwork might have killed them, I still took the time to make sure with a 10mm round for each.

Pounding footsteps echoed all around me. The Gunners were clearly prioritizing me over the squad taking the overpass.

West to east.

With limited ammunition for the MK18 and the close quarters I'd be working in, I kept the handgun out as I skirted the perimeter to the west.

The sounds of shouting ahead alerted me to the squad approaching from the next street. I slid to a stop at the corner of the building. The shouts and pounding footsteps continued forward. Pulling a grenade, I primed it and threw the small explosive toward the approaching group of mercenaries.

"GRENADE!" one of them shouted and there was a cacophony of screams an instant before the explosion cut them off.

When I peered around the building, three bodies lay in the street, each with shrapnel wounds. One, a woman, was limping away, dragging her right leg behind her. I put a round in the back of her neck and continued toward the west end of the town. By now, the gunfire from above consisted of lower, louder reports. That probably meant Glory's team had handled whoever else was up there and was now in their overwatch positions.

A pair of Gunners stepped out of an alley between what looked like two apartment buildings ahead of me. I was already at a dead run, so I lowered my shoulder and drove it into the first. The blow sent him tumbling backward and, as I shot the other, gunfire erupted from further down the road.

I dropped into a crouch as the spray of bullets careened overhead and I returned fire on the seven defenders. They adjusted their aim and the next mercenary's burst caught me in the left arm, flaring my shields and throwing off my aim. My first shot connected with one of the Gunner's necks, but the second and third hit one in the chest, catching on their armor. Even with that one going down, there were still enough guns to drop my shields in a hurry.

After a fourth shot connected, this time with the shoulder of a tall, lanky woman, I dove into the alley beside me, narrowly avoiding another long burst of gunfire.

Once I was out of sight, I heard the squad begin running, but they weren't heading toward me. It sounded like they were pulling back. Whoever was running this show was probably starting to organize a response.

That's something I can't let happen.

Grabbing a second grenade from my satchel, I pulled the pin and hurled it over the building to my right, toward the center of town.

As it soared through the air, I snatched a discarded combat rifle from the dirt and sprinted down the alley. The grenade went off somewhere behind the next row of buildings as I emerged into the next street. More gunfire exploded from my left but, in the instant I was exposed, all of it missed me.

Bullets continued pouring into the corner of the three-story apartment building I disappeared behind. The brick didn't hold up under the onslaught, splintering into mulch and peppering the next building with a torrent of shrapnel. I wasn't there to catch any of it. My armored boots pounded against the broken pavement as I circled the dilapidated structure. Their barrage was just coming to a halt as I slid to a stop at the apartment's opposite corner.

It was the same group that escaped from the wall. The one with the bullet wound in her shoulder was holding it, running toward the mouth of the alley.

My first shot hit her in the left eye. The combat rifle's impact wasn't as spectacular as the MK18's but the back of her head was still turned into a large hole.

As her body tumbled to the ground, I sighted on the next Gunner and fired.

The shot missed.

The entire group had shifted at the same time, heading north up the street, and out of my line of sight. They're better drilled than I gave them credit for.

I adjusted my aim in time to catch one more, but the other four were gone.

No time to waste on a small group; there were still over a hundred to deal with.

The boom of large caliber rifles was still raining down from the overpass.

Probably over a hundred to deal with.

As I turned to head east again, something struck me odd: yes, it's sound doctrine to pull your forces into defensible positions when your perimeter is breached, but there's usually some form of stalling tactics.

Normally I'd say right then wasn't the time to be lost in thought, but something about this felt wrong.

More explosions began sounding on the north side of the settlement. That would be the squad above throwing grenades.

Coming to a stop to clear the next street, I found it empty. They were seeding ground to buy time, retreat, and regroup.

But for what?

The detonations trickled to a stop.

There was no way they ran out of explosives yet…

The gunfire had stopped too.

Something is very, very wrong here. No gunfire from either side, no explosions, the rapid retreat into what I'd guess is a hardened position somewhere in the town.

And then the side of the overpass erupted.

In an instant, concrete, steel, and rebar were blown into the night sky, a billowing cloud of dust comparable to the one left by the Semtex charge blooming from the explosion. The shockwaves and its accompanying boom weren't as powerful, but it was still strong enough to shake dirt and dust from the buildings directly below the freeway. Pieces of the raised road began falling into the town as I ducked back from the corner.

Son of a bitch. They'd been falling back to a hardened position to avoid shrapnel.

I yanked my radio from its satchel and hit the transmit button. "Glory, do you copy?"

Nothing.

Why had they stopped firing before the detonation had gone off?

My feet carried me back up the alley to the west. If they're gone, I need to change things up. I don't know if bringing in their QRF is a good idea at this point.

"Glory, do you copy?"

Clearing the next street once again, I turned north, heading toward the freeway at a dead run.

Nothing.

Shit. I stopped at the next intersection and checked it, but I didn't continue across. If they're dead, heading up there would only put me in a compromised position. The Gunners would be waiting for someone to try and rescue them.

Pressing transmit again, I took a deep breath. "Glory, do you copy?"

Nothing.

Stay calm. I took another deep breath.

Stay calm. A third.

It wasn't working. I could feel my mind beginning to boil with fury. The Gunners hadn't just killed these people- my people, they'd just shot my best chance at getting the Railroad to join the Brotherhood.

I shoved the radio back into my satchel.

They'd killed Glory, someone Cass looks up to. They'd killed MacCready and, while I didn't care for the guy, Preston clearly trusts him.

No, despite my efforts, I was pissed. I'm going to make these motherfuckers pay. Without support, an attack like this would be damn near impossible.

So what-

Gunfire exploded from the overpass. When I looked up, I saw muzzle flashes flaring into the night. The reports were the deep, bone-rattling booms of large caliber rifles.

Wha- had they survived? How?

It didn't matter, I ripped the radio out again and-

No, they don't need me as a distraction. They need to focus on whoever they're fighting.

But they could be compromised. They could need help. I don't know what their status is, and with the way the Gunners have changed the battlefield, we need to change the plan.

Switching channels on my radio, I skirted down the street as I hit transmit.

"QRF, move to the south end of Quincy and keep a perimeter in the tree line. Do not approach the town."

There was a split-second pause before John replied. "Understood. Everything good in there, we saw the freeway go up."

At the next intersection, I stopped once again to clear my cross. "Unknown. Glory's team is alive and fighting, I'm moving to assist."

Another brief pause.

"Alright, we'll be there in five minutes."

With that, I put the radio away and headed for the perimeter. Half a klick to the on-ramp, I could cover that in no time at a full sprint. I'd have to be careful of stragglers or a rear guard.

Or I could bypass them.

Time is key here.

As I reached the perimeter, I vaulted the two-and-a-half meter high wall and hit the ground running. Armored boots pounding against the dirt and grass beneath them. A few heartbeats later, I'd crossed back into the forest and began weaving through trees as fast as I could. The gunfire was still raging, but I couldn't tell if either side was winning. Glory's team would have the benefit of static positions if they weren't compromised, but the Gunners have numbers.

My internal clock wasn't just ticking, it was screaming at me as I raced through the forest, trampling underbrush, crashing through branches, and leaping over the occasional rock outcropping. I almost tumbled into a ravine as my flight carried me to the edge. Grabbing a tree, I managed to pull myself away and skirt the ledge.

Less than 30 seconds later, I was nearing the on-ramp.

There were a dozen Gunners guarding it. Most were at the base of the roadway, in cover behind the rusted hulks that had once been cars. Four were ahead of it, closer to the trees. They were searching the forest desperately and I knew there was no way they didn't hear me.

Skidding to a stop, I pulled the last of my grenades and a C4 charge from their satchel. After priming the grenade, I lobbed it toward the group on the on-ramp. While the cars provided decent enough cover, they were also crammed together. That means, when the grenade landed in their midst, the mad scramble to get away from it was fruitless.

But I didn't wait to see the aftermath. The C4 was already flying toward the closest two Gunners watching the forest. Neither seemed to notice the small cube of explosives landing by them until I hit the detonator.

The blast threw one into a tree and, while I couldn't hear the bones breaking, the impact was definitely hard enough to do it. The second tumbled backward, missing an arm and leg.

With the other two scrambling for cover, I waited until one of them stopped behind and tree. He, out of sheer luck, managed to shield himself from my line of sight.

Problem for him is line of sight doesn't matter much when your cover is trees. They don't tend to come in 'bulletproof' models.

The trio of rounds I put into the center of the tree rewarded me with a shrill scream and spray of blood.

With my position compromised, I ducked back into the forest as the last rear guard began peppering the area with gunfire. After a handful of strides to reposition, I sighted on the woman and sent the Gunner to join her friends.

Gunshots poured from the on-ramp as what was left of the rear guard engaged. Most were inaccurate, probably spraying and hoping for a hit. A few landed, flaring my shields, but not enough to be dangerous. With at least half of their numbers gone and, apparently, no visual on me, they were disorganized and panicking.

Close.

There were 40 meters between the edge of the forest and the roadway and they passed in an instant. I took three more glancing strikes before I was on top of them. Five Gunners were still alive, all of them firing frantically. The first two barely had a chance to adjust their aim before they were dead. The other three were able to adjust their fire but, as I weaved through the mess of old, rusted car bodies, most of the rounds either ricochet off my shields or missed altogether.

Another three shots claimed the third Gunner and I leaped over the car between him and the next. As I sailed forward, I brought my knee up, slamming it into her chest. The force of the blow drove the woman into the car behind. Despite a loud crack her armor held and saved her from an impact that would have crushed her ribcage. She died when I brought the butt of my confiscated rifle down on her head.

The last Gunner screamed in rage and began spraying wildly. At this range, most of the rounds connected and my shields began draining. I dove between two cars before they could empty. Twisting as I fell, I fired once and the shout turned into a gargled scream. I fell out of view before his body crumpled to the ground.

No time to celebrate.

My shields whined as they recharged, and I scrambled to my feet, took a few spare magazines from the last Gunner, and charged up the ramp toward the still ongoing gunfight.

As soon as I made it to the raised roadway, I moved to the south end of the freeway, ducking and weaving between cars to avoid any potential-

A round cracked by my helmet followed by the booming report of Glory's sniper rifle.

I was never told who I was supposed to be avoiding when ONI taught me evasive movement. Apparently, some of it was friendly fire.

Even so, the shooting began trickling to a halt.

"Goddammit Damon", the Railroad soldier roared as it finally grew quiet.

Did they… win already? I blinked.

"We're clear", another voice shouted. It was Deacon.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

Peering out from behind my cover, I saw someone standing 50 meters away in the center of the freeway. It was MacCready, rifle up, sweeping the road ahead. The former mercenary was covered top to bottom in dirt and, even from this distance, I could see the bloody tear in the left arm of his jacket.

"Everyone good?" Glory called.

"No…" someone responded. "We lost Chuck."

"Has anyone seen Charlie?"

"No", Deacon said. "Didn't see him after the explosion."

When I stood, I saw the bodies. There were at least 10 dead Gunners scattered among the cars. From what I could see, most of them were dead from large caliber gunshots. That meant the others played decoy to open up opportunities for MacCready and Glory.

These people are good.

"Coming over", I called as I began picking my way through the rusted hulks.

They weren't in great shape. It looked like the other surviving member of the Railroad squad had taken a round in his chest plate, and sure enough, the man he'd called Chuck was laying in a pool of blood, his neck torn open. They were all caked in dirt and dust from the explosion. Each had some form of visible injury and there's no telling what internal damage they suffered. Hell, they're lucky they can hear anything and that explosion hadn't blown their eardrums.

Goddammit.

The Gunners had a good response, one we didn't anticipate. Blowing the freeway was an impressively pragmatic strategy and one that required a level of brutality I should have expected from them.

Despite that, only the edge overlooking the town was gone. Most of the roadway and what was left of the structure were still intact.

This isn't over yet; their main force is still active below us. They're going to figure out the team they sent to deal with the overwatch had failed. It would happen around the same time they realized I wasn't in Quincy anymore. They probably wouldn't like it, but our best option is to continue even with the losses so far. If we don't, getting away from Quincy will be difficult.

We need to get this done.

I turned to Glory. She appeared to be in relatively good shape, just a tear in her thick leather jacket below her right shoulder. "Are you good to continue?" She was looking down at the dead man, his eyes staring lifelessly at the roof above us.

"Yeah", the Railroad soldier said, shaking herself. She met my gaze, eyes burning. "Before they blew the freeway, we saw a squad of Gunners in power armor, maybe four of them." The white-haired woman hefted her rifle. "This is the only thing we got up here that'll get through it."

"Mine's still south of town."

She grunted. "Great."

"Do you know where they went?"

"No, as soon as we saw them we had to beat feet to get away from the edge."

When we got back, I'd have to ask how they knew the freeway was about to blow.

How am I going to do this? Even with their counter-attack failing (mostly), they'll have had time to regroup and reorganize. Things need to change if we're going to win this.

"Alright. I'm going back down to draw that group out. I need a few grenades."

Deacon walked over to the now deceased Railroad soldier and pulled open his satchel. He returned carrying four. "Don't waste 'em."

Tucking them into my bag I nodded. There was no time to go all the way back to the on-ramp. Scaling one of the supports would be faster.

Before I could drop over the side, I stopped. MacCready and the three remaining Railroad members were starting toward the destroyed section of the overpass. This has already gone wrong enough, it doesn't need to go any more wrong.

"Don't take any unnecessary risks", I called.

None of them turned, but Glory offered me a wave over her shoulder.

They were still focused. They have a job to do.

Just like me.

Climbing over the edge, I grabbed onto one of the supports and began climbing down, using the large I-beam as both hand and footholds.

Once I was on the ground again, I slipped toward Quincy. As strange as it was at this point in a fight, I had to reset and start over. I'm out of the perimeter, the Gunners have had time to prepare defenses, and now my overwatch had to reposition. It's easy to get caught in the momentum of combat, but sometimes it pays to slow down and re-examine the situation.

I still have four C4 charges, four grenades, two and a half magazines for the combat rifle, plenty for my handgun and MK18, and the Semtex on the perimeter to the south.

Staying in the shadows cast by the overpass, I got to within a dozen meters of the fence that made up their perimeter and settled behind one of the freeway's supports.

With the chance to re-establish, the Gunners will be harder to dig out this time.

There was no time to re-do my recon, not with the amount of noise we've made. I can use the QRF to gather information from the south side of the town. Win conditions still haven't changed. Eliminate enough of a force, the rest will run or surrender. It's extremely uncommon for any army to fight to the last, and even more so with mercenaries.

They've been hit, hard, and their counterattack didn't work. Their last major tactical asset is the power armored fireteam. If I can find and eliminate them, would it be enough to break the rest?

It's possible…

How would I find them?

They baited their trap, an enticing position. There's no way they don't know who I am by now, so I bait them in return.

Make noise, cause chaos, get them to come to me, turn their best asset into corpses.

A razor-sharp smile slipped onto my face.

Sometimes I enjoy what I do. Maybe I enjoy it a little too much.

Pulling the radio from my satchel, I hit transmit. "Glory, do you copy?"

"I hear you", she replied after an instant.

"Give me 30 seconds, then drop every grenade you have on them."

"Got it."

The clock began ticking in my head and I shot out from my cover. I hadn't made it more than 20 meters when gunfire burst back into the night. This time it was more concentrated, torrent rounds flying through the open spaces in the perimeter wall. Most missed, but enough connected that, by the time I made it back to the forest a few seconds later, my shields were bleeding energy.

Then a minigun joined the fray.

A moment after I reached the woods and turned to rush toward the perimeter, the signature whine of the rotary weapon's motor made itself known just beneath the reports. An instant later, trees and underbrush around me were sprayed with a hail of gunfire.

A few of the small caliber rounds connected, but the thickening forest made it difficult to track me. I veered to the right, heading further south, and put distance between myself and the heavy weapon.

Once I'd put a row between myself and the defenders, I turned back toward the town. A few seconds later, I reached the perimeter and leaped back over the wall. As soon as I hit the ground, I was running again, heading for the nearest building.

Just ahead of me was another squad of Gunners. They were scanning the perimeter from the safety of a small house across the street, sandbags stacked in front.

I didn't slow as I pulled a grenade from my satchel and primed it. The anti-personnel explosive soared over their cover as I turned up the street. Gunfire chased me but a few heartbeats later the explosive went off.,.

Five seconds.

Unless that gun was mounted, it would have had to have been carried by one of their power armored soldiers. That's where I need to be.

As the last few seconds ticked by, I made it to the row of buildings just south of where the barrage of minigun fire had come from. I began counting up and, once I got to four, the explosions started. The explosions started and they kept going. Glory's people didn't have an arsenal with them, but they had enough grenades to ruin someone's day.

Two seconds in, I slipped into another alley between a storefront and an apartment building, skirting north toward my target.

It was chaos in the street beyond. Gunners were scrambling for cover as grenades continued raining down. Nothing had dropped here but, further east, I could still see explosions going off. It was hard to tell, but it looked like there were several dead bodies. That wasn't my concern.

No, my concern was the five lumbering suits of power armor. Three of them were carrying miniguns, the same ones the Brotherhood had ambushed me with in Diamond city. The other two were carrying large caliber rifles. The frames looked the same as the T-60 power armor the Brotherhood uses, but they were clad in much cruder armor. It looked like someone had taken any collection of steel plates they could find and welded them in place. I didn't have to lift one to know they were substantially heavier than the T-60 suits. Not only was there a lot more material, but their movements were sluggish and labored, even for those suits. Hell, they made Brotherhood soldiers look like goddamn dancers. It didn't surprise me the 12.7mm rifle was the only thing that would get through that. These things were built for one thing only: breaking their way into whatever they were attacking.

Time to see if it's worth the trade-off.

The answer was obvious to anyone with any sort of combat experience: no. The reason Mjolnir is such a phenomenal system is it doesn't sacrifice mobility for protection, in fact, it enhances it. Mobility is key in any protracted fight, and that's what this has turned into.

Emptying the rest of my magazine into the closest armored figure, all five of them turned to me in unison. The three miniguns spun up and, a split second after I sprinted back into the alley, the corners of the building flanking me were turned to dust.

With a new magazine in my stolen combat rifle, I pulled a C4 charge and dodged around to the east side of the apartment building.

The squad of power-armored soldiers was already lumbering down the alley. It was narrow enough, they could barely fit side by side. It was a move made by someone too reliant on their equipment. If I had something larger than the MK18 they'd be screwed. Plastic explosives would have to do instead.

I tossed the small charge toward them and, the instant I heard it clink off of the lead Gunner's armor, I hit the detonator.

An overpressure wave blew out of the alley, scattering the dust and garbage that had collected between the buildings into the street.

That armor provided good protection.

The first armored form was laying prone, chest torn open and mangled. The rest were still alive, and the rear three were recovering.

A second C4 charge left my hand just before a booming report exploded over the sounds of gunfire to the north. The shot blew a massive chunk out of the building's corner just above my head.

Two seconds later, I hit the detonator, setting off another explosion in the tight alley.

No need to overstay my welcome. That second explosion probably didn't kill any of them anyway-

My decision turned out to be just in time. I was maybe a dozen meters away from the alley where I'd been standing an instant before when it detonated. The overpressure slammed into my back and I had to scramble to maintain my footing. That hadn't been a grenade, which meant they had plastic explosives too or there was an RPG somewhere.

Either way, I wasn't going to stick around to find out.

Whatever the case, this squad had support. The miniguns didn't worry me too much, their small caliber rounds would take an eternity to get through both my suit's soft and hard armor. Those large caliber rifles were a problem. They could definitely penetrate my undersuit given the right spot. Not to mention, one of those would probably break something even if it didn't go through me.

The more distance I could put between myself and their support, the better.

Unsurprisingly, when I glanced back at the alley, the power armored Gunners were chasing.

Perfect.

Another shot boomed and crashed into the small house ahead of me.

All four were in the street now, lumbering ahead in their ungainly armor.

Not far. I just need you to follow me for a little bit.

I continued south, heading for the perimeter wall.

The gunfight raging between Glory's team and the other Gunners hadn't died down, but there weren't any more explosions. This needs to happen fast, they're low on manpower and, despite their position, didn't have a lot of time.

What I need is for these armored assholes to chase me faster.

They obviously only fight one way: press. That type of aggressive fighting style is exploitable with inexperienced or undisciplined people.

With the squad falling further behind, I slipped into an alley and pulled my penultimate C4 charge.

Closing my eyes, I set down the combat rifle and counted off the seconds as I listened to the cacophony of pounding footsteps approach.

Once they were within 5 meters of the alley, I flipped the small cube of explosives around the corner and, after another second, detonated it.

As soon as the pressure wave passed, I turned out into the street, yanking my knife from its sheath. The closest Gunner was reeling from the explosion, the front of their armor damaged, metal twisted from the blast.

That one would be my target.

I lunged forward and, in their panic, the armored mercenary tried to bring their large caliber rifle up. Batting it aside, I closed with them and delivered an open-handed strike to the front of their helmet. The blow was powerful enough to snap their head back. I took my opportunity to ram my knife into the space left in their poorly assembled armor.

Blood gushed from around the blade as it connected with the Gunner's jugular.

As much as I wanted to engage the rest, they were starting to recover and, while I probably could have taken them, my goal was only one more street away.

If the other Gunners were going to be broken, this needs to be big.

Kicking the mortally wounded mercenary away, I turned and sprinted to the south once again.

When I rounded the next corner, I came face to face with another six-person squad of Gunners. Two were carrying RPG launchers.

Found the support squad.

Combat rifle still in the alley, I yanked the handgun from my hip and started firing into the squad. My first round slammed into one of the launcher carrying mercenaries. The second hit the man beside him in the neck. As the third round left the handgun, its target, the second launcher's owner, the remaining Gunners drew a bead on me.

Rounds began peppering my shields as the third shot connected. The target's finger tightened around the launcher's trigger and sent a rocket careening toward me.

It passed over my head as I dove to the right. I didn't see the aftermath of its impact. My dive turned into a roll and I was up again, sprinting for the southern wall.

With the remaining six Gunners chasing me, I slipped into an alley, more gunfire slamming into the building to my right. As I ran down its length, I yanked my radio from its pouch and switched to the QRF's channel.

"I'll be at the southern wall in 10 seconds. Do not engage the Gunners chasing me."

"Say that again", the response came as the timer in my head began screaming at me. "You don't want us to engage."

The alley coming to an end, I dropped into a slide and a hail of bullets tore through the air over me.

"Affirmative." I scrambled to my feet and made for the last row of buildings before reaching the perimeter wall.

When I reached it, I stopped at the corner of a mostly intact house and trained my handgun on the alley I'd just emerged from.

Nothing.

After another three seconds passed without any Gunners, my aim drifted around to the other streets and alleys. Sure enough, the three remaining armored Gunners emerged from the street to my right.

The 10mm rounds I sent their way didn't do anything, but I don't need it to kill them, I just need their attention.

It got it.

The two remaining miniguns began spinning up as I retreated from the corner. The wood and brick siding disintegrated under a hail of small caliber rounds. By then I was approaching the wall.

My legs drove into the ground and I propelled myself upward, clearing the barrier, and hit the ground running.

10 more seconds.

As I crossed the small clearing between the perimeter wall and the surrounding forest, I pulled the second Semtex charge's detonator from my satchel.

Eight seconds.

While there was no way of knowing where the support squad was, I had to hope they'd taken cover.

Angling toward where I left the McMillan, more seconds ticked off my internal clock.

Three seconds.

I spotted the large caliber rifle laying in the same spot I'd left it. Dropping to the ground, I flattened myself as best I could.

One.

Zero.

My thumb hit the detonator and the second brick of plastic explosive went off.

The shockwave, like last time, rushed through the forest of sickly trees and browning underbrush, blasting away any dirt that settled on them from the first explosion. The sound was just as deafening as the first detonation, but this time I didn't watch its effects. I had myself pressed to the ground as the overpressure wave slammed into me.

If my timing was right, I doubt any of the support squad would have survived that, and if more than one of the armored Gunners have, I'd be surprised.

A few heartbeats later, the night settled once again. Even the gunfire on the north side of the town had come to a stop.

This isn't time to sit around and wait though; if there were any survivors, they're stunned. I need to take advantage and eliminate them.

Before the sound of the detonation had a chance to fade into the dark forest around me, I was up again, McMillan at the ready. This time, I was much more mindful about remaining quiet, placing my armored boots in the dry grass and loose dirt as carefully as I could. I won't be caught off guard because of negligence. Not again.

As I neared the edge of the treeline, the perimeter wall came into view. The hole, about five meters wide again, didn't have any bodies around it, There were a few pieces of them. Then, as I studied the town beyond it, I caught sight of one armored figure motionless on the ground. They'd been blown clear by the explosion.

Two were still missing though…

I continued scanning the edge of Quincy, but there were no signs of them. The remaining power armored mercenaries might have been dead too, but I'm not going to take chances.

Eyes still searching, I slipped back into the town-

And lunged for cover as I caught a glimpse of someone peering around the corner of a building. One of the large caliber rifles boomed and a round crashed into my left arm. My shields flared and the status bar dropped by half.

So yes, at least one survived.

Well… I reached the first building inside the perimeter wall. It would be boring if that got all of them.

It was time to go back on the offensive. Regardless of whether they survived or not, there was no way a regular person was uninjured in that armor that close to that explosion.

Rounding the corner, McMillan up, I sighted on the spot I'd last seen one of the Gunners.

They were still there, the front of their armor blackened, but its plating didn't look damaged.

My first round crashed into the mercenary's helmet. Their head snapped back-

But it didn't kill them. The armored Gunner staggered toward the closest building, dropping their rifle as they did.

It may not have killed them, but that shot would definitely ring that person's bell. I have to give the Gunners credit though; I've put holes in the Brotherhood's T60 with this rifle. That their cobbled-together armor would stop it is impressive.

That respect didn't go far enough to assuage my disdain for these bastards.

The Gunner didn't have the chance to reach the corner before I was on them. I slammed my right shoulder into their chest. That armor, while heavy, wasn't going to take half a ton of SPARTAN and Mjolnir and a dead run.

As the loud clang of titanium on steel burst into the night, the armored mercenary left their feet and tumbled backward.

Right then I heard a hiss to my left and I threw myself forward.

An instant later, the sound of a minigun burst into the night and already broken asphalt and concrete exploded around me.

I rolled away from the gunfire and turned as I found my feet again. The second survivor's armor looked unmarred. Had they been further behind the others?

It doesn't matter. They're a threat.

Before the armored bastard could correct aim, I sprang at them. My prey didn't have time to backpedal before I closed, slamming them into the building hard enough to dislodge a dozen bricks. The minigun, still clutched in the Gunner's hands, continued firing, but now it was just drilling a hole into the street to my left.

Lashing out, I drove a right hook into their helmet with enough force their head rebounded off the wall behind them.

That got the mercenary to stop shooting at nothing.

The blow must have disoriented them because they sagged to the ground as the weapon fire faded away.

If the McMillan wouldn't get through their armor, there was no point in wasting the ammo. I yanked my knife out once again and, pulling their head back, drove my knife into the Gunner's neck like I had before.

Blood spurted from the wound as I pulled away. The armor's now dying occupant had the awareness to drop the minigun and scramble for the gash. With the armor in the way, they wouldn't be able to apply pressure to the gushing wound, not that it would help a severed carotid artery.

Pounding footsteps on the pavement behind me drew my attention away from the Gunner as they fell to the concrete-

The other mercenary plowed into me as I began turning. Both of us tumbled to the ground. They did their best to keep hold of me, but metal on metal with the bulky manipulators in that armor offered no grip.

Once we hit the ground, the impact jarred them loose and I rolled away. I was on my feet again before they had a chance to recover and I fell on my first victim. My knife found the seam between their left arm and chest plate and I felt it hit skin.

A loud screech came from behind the helmet as I drove it into their armpit, twisting and ripping as much as the thin slot would allow.

As they writhed and bucked beneath me, I ripped the knife out and jammed it in again.

And a third time.

Life pouring from their armpit in a stream of red, the last remaining member of the town's armored squad struggles slowed until they ceased moving altogether. I let a moment of satisfaction wash over me as I stood from the corpse. After the clusterfuck this turned into, eliminating that squad was an accomplishment.

The sounds of fighting to the north hadn't resumed. I had no way of knowing why. Standing around and speculating won't get me anywhere. After taking a few seconds to check my weapons, I began north.

I pulled the radio from my satchel and hit transmit. "Glory, do you copy?"

A few seconds later, the Railroad soldier's voice crackled through. "That explosion was you?"

"Affirmative, the armored force has been eliminated." I slipped across another street, just one more row of houses away from the former gunfight. "What's your status?"

"They haven't shot back at us since you blew up the south side of the town again. Looks like they're trying to figure out what to do."

Do they know that squad is dead? "Copy. Estimated force strength?"

"Shit I don't know…" The radio fell silent for a moment as I stopped beside a mostly destroyed apartment building. "Mac and Deacon are thinking maybe 50 left."

50. That's acceptable.

"Understood. Give me 20 seconds to get in position to their south. Then demand their surrender."

There was another short pause on her end.

"You want me to do that?"

"They already know you're on the overpass, I'd rather keep one position unknown."

A grunt came over the radio. "Alright but if this gets me shot I'm going to haunt you for the rest of your life."

I huffed. "Understood."

Without knowing how the remaining Gunners were spread around the town, I had to do some guesswork when finding a new position. I ended up on the fourth level of a building that, at one point, had been an office of some sort. Desks, chairs, computers, and other debris was scattered around the floor. Most of the floors had collapsed which explained why it didn't look like anyone used the building.

From that position, I could see the area they'd converted into the town's main square. With a few smaller buildings, rusted cars, and what looked like poorly built walkways and fortifications, they'd tried to make it more usable, but it wasn't the best work I'd seen.

A few dozen Gunners were visible in cover, but it looked like most of them were hunkered down, waiting for orders. Were they stupid enough to give command to one of the armored mercenaries? Or had Glory and her squad killed their commander? In either case, this seemed odd, but it was at least promising.

It was promising for more than one reason. This fight has been going on for the better part of 20 minutes now. Any Brotherhood forces in the area will have reported it. We'll be seeing at least a sortie heading our way soon. We need to get this done and get out before it turns into a bigger problem. I don't need another event like my last scouting trip, especially with four other people in the line of fire.

"Hey assholes!", Glory's voice came from the overpass. "You ready to give up?! Your big guns are dead, and you're boxed in."

Several of the Gunners shifted, looking at one another, but no one responded.

"Alright, so I take it whoever's in charge here is dead then", the Railroad soldier continued. "I'll make it easy for you. We don't have a lot of time, so someone, anyone has 10 seconds to come out and say you give up, or we finish the job-"

"Wait!" someone in the square shouted back. "I ain't getting paid enough to die here!"

A man stood from his cover, near the middle of the square, hands empty and held over his head.

"Vance you son of a bitch what are you doing?!" another mercenary shouted.

"You heard 'em: Clint and the guys are dead, they got the high ground, and that armored bastard's out there somewhere. Hell, he's probably the one who did Clint."

No one else said anything. That's probably a good sign too.

"Sounds like they're about ready to shit themselves", Glory said over the radio.

That they do. "Affirmative."

"At least you're smart enough to know when you're beat. Anyone else wanna join this guy?"

It took a few seconds but soon, one by one, the Gunners began standing and dropping whatever they were armed with. After another minute or so, the mercenaries were all around the square with their hands raised over their heads.

"Good. Now, I want you to listen to me very carefully. The Minutemen don't have a use for scumbags like you. If it were up to me, I'd just shoot the rest of you, but we're using good ammo and it'd be wasted. Instead, you've got until morning to get your asses out of Quincy or the rest of you join your friends."

The Minutemen? I cocked an eyebrow.

"Make sure the rest of the Gunners know we're back, and if you try messing with the people around here, things will get a lot worse for you."

This… wasn't part of the plan. The point of the attack was to get the Railroad to buy into the idea I can provide the sort of firepower the Minutemen will need to get started.

It was also to get people in the Commonwealth interested in the idea of the Minutemen again. If these mfers spread what happened here around, that could be a huge help.

And if they know I was here, they'll definitely tell people about that.

While I hadn't intended for it to go like this, that's both a good and bad thing.

There was some murmuring in the square but, eventually, one of the Gunners spoke up. "Alright, we'll be outta here in a few hours. Don't think this means we won't be coming after you. We've driven the Minutemen out before."

"You're right, you did. We're a little different now if you didn't notice." She paused and when she started again, I could hear the razor-sharp grin in her voice. "Besides, like you said, we've got that armored bastard with us now."

So that was her intent.

None of the Gunners responded. Even if I didn't 100% like it, they'd gotten the message loud and clear.

In the silence, I could just make out the same low hum I had the other day. That would be the Brotherhood.

"Hey Damon, you hear that?" Glory asked over the radio.

"Affirmative."

"Time to get the hell out of here."

Agreed. "I'll rendezvous and the primary fallback."

"Got it, we'll meet you there."

Switching to the QRF's frequency, I keyed the radio again. "Brotherhood forces are approaching from the north."

"Gotcha", came the response. "We'll see you back at the bunker."

As I went to put the radio back into my satchel, the thought of staying crossed my mind. With what happened between the Gunners and Brotherhood the last time I was in Boston, seeing how these groups began interacting would be interesting. A few of the mercenaries, I'm sure, would get away but with 50 of them, at least some of them wouldn't. What would happen to those ones?

Don't overreach. This operation has already been a mess, I don't need to complicate things.

My hand was hovering just outside of my satchel. All I had to do was change frequency again and tell the squad to keep going without me, that I'd catch up later.

No… they're going to know I was here during the attack. That means they'll probably start searching for me. I've already put Glory and her people in enough danger.

I placed the radio in its pouch and slipped out of the short, mostly destroyed building. By the time I was at the first hole I'd blown in the southern wall, the sound of the Vertibirds was clearly audible and drawing closer. They'd be at Quincy in the next five minutes, and I need to make sure I'm long gone when they arrive.

Despite my reservations, I couldn't help but feel like this was an opportunity I shouldn't be wasting. I have the McMillan back, I can deal with the Vertibirds if given the right opportunity now.

But what would I gain from watching this? What new information would it give me? I already know the Brotherhood hates the Gunners and now they're engaging in active combat. What would seeing them capture our leftovers tell me?

The question still bothered me as I snuck through the forest, heading southwest toward a small house we'd found in the middle of the woods about three klicks from the town.

By the time I'd made it a kilometer from Quincy, I looked back to see four Vertibirds circling the small collection of buildings. They certainly came prepared for a fight. I don't know if I've seen them scramble four of the VTOLs for a single target before. My best guess is they have 18 of them left, 4 is almost a quarter of their force.

There was still time to watch. Glory's squad would take at least 20 minutes to make it to the rendezvous, I could be there in less than 10. There's no reason to rush.

Two of the aircraft began descending toward the town and I watched until they were swallowed beneath the canopy above me. The others maintained their altitude and, through the McMillan's scope, I saw both had door gunners poised with miniguns aimed down at Quincy.

About 15 seconds after they descended, the two other Vertibirds reappeared. That was a quick insertion, a far cry from the first time I'd done one with them at the West Everett Estates. How they'd managed to dominate the Capital Wastelands (whatever those were) with the tactics they used when they first arrived was beyond me. If Maxson and his people are anything, it's fast learners

As the four Vertibirds resumed their circling of the small town, no fighting broke out. The Gunners were outgunned and they knew it.

While the outcome was a bit disappointing, it wasn't wholly unexpected. The mercenaries may be stupid, but they aren't suicidal. Usually. It would have been a difficult fight even if we hadn't halved their forces first. With the resources at their disposal, taking on the Brotherhood would be moronic.

Leaving was the right decision. There was nothing to be learned-

A brilliant flash in the city lit up the night as I began to turn.

Molecular Relay transition.

Before the light had a chance to fade, another flash went off in, from what I could tell, the middle of Quincy. The charge's boom followed a few seconds later and, while subdued, it was still loud. It wasn't right though. That detonation didn't have the shockwave of an explosion. Was that a massive concussion charge?

Another series of flashes followed, and the stabs of light from laser fire began punctuating the night. It was a mix of the Institute's blue and Brotherhood's red, mixing in a cacophony of strobes quick enough to elicit a seizure.

My mind pulled me in two directions. The first, and louder voice was telling me to go back to the city, recon the situation, see if I can take advantage of it, or at least gather information. The second was telling me I need to rendezvous with the others and get the hell out of here. This just got a lot more complicated and, right now, my objective is to get everyone back to the Railroad safely.

The second, more reasonable voice won the short argument and I turned to the southwest again.

As I slipped through the heavily forested area, my mind was racing with questions. Why is the Institute here? Why would they engage the Brotherhood in Quincy? Did they intend to catch the Gunners instead? Was this just a case of bad timing?

A few minutes of weaving my way through the forest, double checking I wasn't followed later, I arrived at the rendezvous. It wasn't much more than a few trees surrounding what used to be a shack in the middle of the woods. Whoever lived here before the bombs fell was probably a paranoid shut away, if the basement full of destroyed radio equipment and preserved goods was anything to go by. I remember reading about people around this time fearing alien invasions, so they would make 'bunkers' under their houses in preparation for the inevitable.

The memory brought a small smile, not entirely amused to my face. They were right, aliens did come to kill us. 300 years from now. What they should have worried about was their own leaders blowing them to hell.

A shallow basement below your shack a half dozen kilometers from a major metropolitan area didn't help much.

While waiting for the others to arrive, I paced a perimeter around the rendezvous. Something was bothering me about this; the Institute doesn't attack unless they're sure they can win, or they're desperate enough to risk losing. Nate might not be trained in unconventional warfare but he is intelligent and extremely shrewd. That's to say nothing of Shaun and Ayo. What did they have to gain by attacking the Brotherhood in Quincy, unless a Synth was there, somehow? The only other explanations I can think of is they believe this is a good opportunity to eliminate some non-replaceable assets, eliminate a large Gunner presence (understandable considering the Mercenaries' treatment of Synths), or…

Or they're looking for me.

The first and third possibilities were both worrying. Each of them meant the Institute had eyes in the area. If that's the case they'd know, one, I was responsible for the attack on the Gunners, and two, that I'm probably still in the area.

I stopped in a thicket of trees, taking an extra few seconds to scan the dense forest around me.

Depending on where their potential scouts were positioned, that means they could know I'm out here with Railroad forces.

And if they know that…

This can't lead them back to the Railroad's hideout. If it does, that not only eliminates the possibility of Railroad cooperation, it puts Cass and Tommy in danger.

That's not going to happen.

Fishing the radio from my satchel, I pressed transmit.

"Do not respond to this. Do not go to fallback. Repeat, do not go to fallback. Institute forces engaged with Brotherhood in Quincy. Potentially aware of our presence. Pull back to a safe location, I will rendezvous tomorrow morning."

As I released the button, I paused to listen. If the Institute is playing a game here, which I wouldn't put past them, the last thing they need to do is give away the squad's position. Now the question is are they smart enough to get the countermove I just made?

Only one way to find out.

They are, undoubtedly, already on edge. If the Institute is listening in to our poorly secured communications, they know I'm aware they may be after us. They know I'm going to try to lose any potential tails.

They're also right about that.

An instant later, I bolted from my cover and maintained the fastest pace I could while weaving through the closely packed trees. With no idea where, or if, Coursers might be hiding, I don't have the luxury of taking it slow. Their gauss rifles can get through my armor given the time. If they're able to teleport a bomb near me, that could be a problem too.

So I kept my pace near a dead run, faster than any of their people could match, especially through the forest. The fighting was still raging in the town. When I glanced up from my path, I saw one of the Vertibirds pulling away, smoke pouring from both engine pods. Another was shuddering under what I could only guess was gauss fire. They came to play for keeps.

As I got further away from the fighting, I started bending my path to the east. By the time I'd gone a kilometer, I was heading due east and started north. I can't do anything about any potential tail on Glory's people, but they've been in this game long enough to have their own protocols for this situation. My goal isn't exactly to lose a tail either. They just need to think that's what I'm trying to do. I have very little doubt, if the Institute is tracking me, they know they'd have to get creative.

That's where what's left of downtown Boston comes in.

Trees blurred past me as I continued slipping between them. On more than one occasion, I made a wrong move, stepping on uneven ground or a hidden rock, or bouncing off a tree. Under normal circumstances I'd be upset at the sloppiness, but right now isn't about perfection, it's about speed.

Occasional stumble aside, I made good ground through the forest and, within five minutes, I was heading north again. Would the Institute try something? Were they actually chasing me? Am I just being paranoid?

With the uneven footing and densely packed trees, it was difficult to scan the forest and keep myself from any more mishaps. The glances I got of the woods around me didn't reveal anything, but that was no surprise. Even with my night vision, the shadows of the thick overhead canopy swallowed anything more than a few dozen meters away. At the very least, that probably meant-

Down! my head screamed at me. It took me another instant to realize I'd heard something over the sound of my armored boots pounding through the forest and that meant I was almost too late.

I dove between two trees as a half dozen projectiles slammed into one of them from my left. A few of them caught me in the side and almost depleted my shields. The odd report that followed an instant later was definitely not a conventional firearm or laser weapon. I don't remember what the weapons the Institute had hit me with last time sounded like, but those may have been them. Whatever they were, they hit hard. The back side of the tree exploded in a shower of wood splinters, scattering them in the darkness.

That answers that question. I came out of the roll and continued sprinting, weaving between trees to make myself a harder target.

Now the question is how the hell did they know I'd come this way? How did they know I'd be here?

Sliding down a steep embankment, I hit the bottom and kept running through the forest.

It's possible that had been a lucky guess; if they had eyes on me somewhere along the way, they may have been able to deduce my path and put a squad ahead of me…

A large rock outcropping appeared in front of me in the gloom. I vaulted over it as my mind raced.

Shouldn't I have been able to see that? The transitions aren't subtle…

Another possibility is they were Coursers who had been in the forest beforehand and just moved to intercept.

If they're tracking me, I need to make sure they keep tracking me. This can't be too obvious; they'll get suspicious if I stay on my current path. The river is somewhere to my east. I can cross that which would lose any conventional tale. They should be able to track me though.

As I veered to my right, the telltale signs of a transit flashed directly in front of me-

And another to my left.

They wouldn't drop squads into the forest without support…

Those are bombs.

My legs pumped, driving me away from the fading lights. I made it five strides before the explosives detonated in unison.

The pressure wave slammed into my back, propelling me through the air.

With no control over my flight, I flipped sideways and my shoulder slammed into a small tree. Between my own pace and the momentum added by the explosion, the tree blew into splinters as I crashed through it. The impact jarred my arm and chest but, thankfully, didn't aggravate the mostly healed injuries.

That doesn't mean the hit didn't hurt.

There was no time to let that slow me down. I hit the dirt and grass ground on the same shoulder, rolled a half dozen times, then was up again, sprinting toward the river.

It seems my MO has changed yet again: I'm not escorting people across the goddamn Commonwealth, I'm running through it while people try to shoot me or blow me up.

But I can't say I'm not enjoying myself. The fight in Quincy wasn't anything special, but it was entertaining despite the complications. Now I have the Institute after me, and they've clearly got a few new tricks up their sleeves.

They aren't the only ones.

Reaching into my satchel again, I flipped the switch on the small, powerful radio transmitter. It wasn't perfect, the range was limited to a few dozen meters, and the battery would only last about a minute, but the radio jammer would make it almost impossible to teleport anything in that radius.

The Institute knows where I am and the direction I'm heading. This won't be enough to lose them, but it will buy me some time. More than enough time to make it to the river.

With the clock ticking on my portable jammer, I redoubled my efforts, careful to avoid any more collisions or bad footing. The trees weren't as tight as I neared the water which meant I was able to pick up the pace. Within 30 seconds, I was at the edge of the forest and sprinting down toward the river.

Even in my NVS, the sickly green water looked unhealthy. That's what my armor is for.

As I reached the river, I slowed to avoid slipping on the slick, silty dirt and mud at its edge and waded in. A few seconds later, I was up to my waist, shoulders, then I was completely under the dark, murky waters. My radio was waterproof, and Sturges tried to maintain the transmitter's gasketing while modifying it, but this will be the first time I've tested whether either of them will still work.

Field testing is always the best way to learn a piece of equipment's limits.

Trudging across the slippery mud, river current trying to knock me off my feet, was difficult. The water was moving fast and, if it weren't for the weight of my armor, I'd probably be floundering. That worked against me too as my armored boots kept slipping in the water-logged riverbed.

Keep going. I'm operating on a clock. If any Institute forces saw me wade into the river, they'll be putting more forces on the east side to catch me. As far as I know though… they don't have units that can go in the water.

Alright Nate, let's see how good you are. I turned south and began away from the city. Now that I wasn't fighting the current, it was helping push me along. The added force made things difficult too. Between that and the mud riverbed, it was a struggle to maintain my footing. That wasn't my primary concern. Based on their deployment, whoever was calling the shots on this operation knew I'd try heading toward Boston. I've sold the story I'm trying to get somewhere fast, now it's time to see whether they're smart enough to call my bluff.

With almost no visibility, I made my way along the riverbed as slowly and methodically as I could with the current pounding on my back. Every few seconds, I set a foot down and it would begin sliding in the mud. The radiation exposure in the river wasn't intense enough to penetrate my armor's shielding, but that didn't mean I wanted to stay in it long. Without knowing what was happening above me, my mind was imagining a lot of scenarios.

That isn't helpful. I need to put distance between myself and my Institute tails, then figure out what to do next. I need to get back to the Railroad. Not only do I need to talk with Desdemona and see if she's willing to play ball, but I need to get to Sanctuary and find out what they know about the informant.

And I'd promised Cass and Tommy I wasn't going to disappear again. Maybe that was a compromise on my part, deciding to put my emotions above what's best for the mission. At this point that isn't important. At least it isn't as important as it used to be.

After slogging along the riverbed for 20 minutes, maybe covering a kilometer and a half, I trudged toward the east side of the river and began climbing toward the surface.

As I neared the edge of the rushing water, I slowed and did my best to scan what I could through the murky river. Between the dim light coming from a partial moon and the distortion coming through the water, it was useless.

Waiting would only make things worse and give the Institute more time to search for me if they were willing to risk it.

I climbed the rest of the way to the surface and, as my head broke the water, I pulled the MK18 up and began scanning my surroundings.

Nothing.

Nothing besides what was left of a highway about 30 meters east of me.

That didn't necessarily mean I hadn't been followed, the Coursers' active camouflage was very good, but again, standing around wouldn't do me any good.

As soon as I had good footing, I bolted from the river and across the broken roadway. On the other side were a few buildings that were mostly destroyed. That wasn't a surprise considering their proximity to the detonation site to the southwest.

Now that I'm out of the forest, and most likely free of an imminent tail, I slowed to my normal pace. Sticking to what shadows I could, I slipped along the east side of the highway toward the looming corpse of Boston a half dozen klicks north.

How am I going to handle this now? I don't doubt the Institute will have positioned forces at the southern edges of the city, trying to guess where I might go. If they think I made my way into the city in the river, they'll have placed forces along it, blocking off any egress. If I can make it to the edge of the city in time…

There's a chance I could catch their forces by surprise.

But what good would that do? If they sent Synths after me, they won't give me any information.

Ducking under the roof of a destroyed house, I paused to scan the area.

This isn't about information, not yet anyway. They clearly set this up to trap me again. I don't doubt, after finding out I survived, they prepared specifically to fight me. While they may be able to somehow mimic physical capabilities, there are some things you can't program into a Synth. Some things you only gain through experience.

Whatever their plan is here, I need to make sure they stay out of the way, at least for a few more days.

I left the house and began toward the city once again.

That means it's time to show them the difference between someone who's programmed to fight, and someone who's lived for it.

It's time to hunt the would-be hunters.

A/N: Now, this chapter title may be a bit confusing, but I think it will begin to make sense as the story goes on. It's as usual, a double entendres, but I won't give away what it's about. That's all for this week, I hope everyone enjoyed and I'll see you next time!

Next Chapter 9/9: Let's Play a Game