A/N: Good tidings to all the boys and girls! My apologies for the week delay. There are two reasons for it: my own laziness and the massive winter storm I was caught in driving across the state. That's in the past and we're here now. As has become custom, we're resuming from a cliffhanger. This one wasn't as bad as some have been (or some to come). It was interesting to write this chapter because I've been trying to change how I write action. That's obviously in part due to writing it from Nate's POV instead of Damons. Either way, we're into it. Aaaaanyway, that's enough rambling. Leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Chapter 61: Fear of the Dark.

Nate spent the majority of his military career behind a combat rifle, not a large-caliber sniper. That being said, he wasn't a stranger to the weapon. The infantryman was a well-qualified marksman and had worked overwatch plenty during his almost two-decade career.

What he hadn't done is considered trying to land a shot from a rifle he was unfamiliar with on a Vertibird's canopy. He'd been around the aircraft enough to know they could take a pounding. The cockpit was wrapped in armor, the turbines were immune to anything short of an RPG direct hit, and the fuselage was, for all intents, bulletproof. Even the canopy glass was tough enough to take anything short of the McMillan's .50 BMG. Hell, unless it was a straight shot, the glass would throw the round enough to miss whatever you're aiming at.

And that was assuming you could make that shot. The Coursers could with their gauss rifles, but those were small hypersonic projectiles. They didn't need much, if any, lead and didn't have time to get battered by the rotor wash. The .50 was fast, but it wasn't that fast. And it was big. That meant the turbulent air around the aircraft would alter its trajectory.

Damon had done it. Multiple times.

While he may not be the SPARTAN, that didn't mean he couldn't do this. It wasn't trying to hit a headshot on a Deathclaw at full sprint. It wasn't engaging five targets at the same time. He didn't need superhuman reflexes to do this. It was one target at a time. A slow-moving one at that. Nate couldn't count the thousands of rounds he's fired out of every type of weapon. He knew how his body moved, how his arms shifted as he aimed, how to control his breathing for the shot.

If he needed to…

He could do it. At least, he had to believe he could. If you don't know you can make the shot when you pull the trigger, you won't.

The rotors' pounding grew louder and louder until it felt like the VTOLs were directly over his hiding place. Supermutants had been running through the building for the last 30 seconds as they drew near. He and Damon had spotted a few miniguns scattered among the tower's inhabitants. They'd work to keep the Vertibirds at bay, but the small 5mm rounds didn't have the punch to get through their armor. He doubted they'd have a Gatling laser. Those were incredibly rare.

Five minutes after he first heard the approaching aircraft, he caught a glimpse of one through the blown-out window. It came in high, a power armored soldier in the open port side door as it banked around the building. The Brotherhood soldier's minigun was already roaring, pouring rounds down onto the roof of the tower.

It was impossible to see the results, but he watched a few rounds spark off of the Vertibird's armor.

After a revolution, the pilot pulled the nose away and climbed out of Nate's view. An instant later, two more replaced it. Good, fundamental tactics provided they did the recon work beforehand. Come in fast, put pressure on your target. Their defenses are already established so an attacking force has to put them off balance and make a hole. The first hole isn't usually the one you take. It's when they commit to that hole another opens up.

Usually.

But analyzing the Brotherhood's tactics isn't what he's here for. They used the same playbook he lived by for most of his life. He needs to figure out how to get Damon out.

If the Brotherhood already had air-support hitting the target, ground forces wouldn't be far behind. That means it's going to get much more difficult for the SPARTAN to slip the net without notice.

Deep breath. Think.

With the collection of towers surrounding their target, there were a lot of blind alleys and side streets. If the Brotherhood wanted to saturate it, they'd have to field a large force, probably a larger one than they want. Yes, the Institute has had to be careful about its deployments, but the Brotherhood has to do the same. If Nate knows anything about Shaun, Ayo, and the ship they run, it's that they want to know everything. He helped plan their intelligence network, he knows they keyed high-value positions. They may have Coursers in the area. That means the Brotherhood can't risk giving them a target.

That Molecular Relay network really is incredible… Drop bombs on your targets' heads without them ever knowing.

So small force, they won't saturate the zone. Fast, high-pressure strike, high-quality fighters. That means they're going to close the net around the building hard.

As the Vertibirds continued pounding the roof, Nate moved his sights down to the base of the tower. Nothing yet… There wouldn't be much time before the fighting started there. If they were going to get out without drawing attention, the SPARTAN needed to be gone. If the Brotherhood had their timing down-

Movement near the edge of his scope's field of view caught Nate's eye.

Shit.

If the Brotherhood had their timing down, the net would be closing around the base of the tower about now…

The ex-soldier shifted.

It was go-time. Maybe.

Firing once or twice wouldn't give away his position. If he was able to wait until their ground forces engaged with the Supermutants, he might be able to milk a little more out of it.

That would be a last resort. It had to be. If he got involved in this fight, it would be because Damon had. If Damon gets involved in the fighting… There's nothing good about that. This little recon sortie would turn into a fight against a Brotherhood task force. Nate knew the response Damon had pulled out of the Brotherhood the last few times they found him. Between him being chased from Cambridge into the city, to the Institute using him as a distraction for the assault on it a few weeks later, Maxson wants the SPARTAN dead.

Not that he could blame him. The ex-soldier wouldn't want someone like Damon running around ruining things either. That sounds like a nightmare.

A sickly smile spread across Nate's face as he caught a half dozen armored Brotherhood soldiers sprinting across the parking lot to his left.

It was a nightmare.

Nate hadn't seen the supersoldier emerge from the building. That didn't mean he was still in it.

More soldiers pounded toward the building from every direction. Things were moving too fast for him to count. It must have been the better part of 50. The raging fight at the top of the tower was too loud for him to hear the heavy thuds as they sprinted across open ground, but he knew what it must have sounded. The surging of hydraulic and pneumatic cylinders, the deep boom of the steel feet slamming into concrete. T-60 was heavy, but it could move at full sprint.

As he watched, Supermutants began lining the broken windows in the tower. Without any visible order, the defenders opened fire. Without tracers, it was impossible for Nate to see the bullets, but he saw several of the Brotherhood soldiers were riddled with impacts. Two shuddered and tumbled to the ground, their ungainly armor impossible to control. A few others slowed. It didn't look like anything got through.

After what couldn't have been two or three seconds, Nate watched a Supermutant keeled over. It was standing too close to the broken window it was using as a firing port and dropped out.

Then another.

A third.

Fourth.

More and more began dying. The Brotherhood had sniper cover too. They'd planned and prepared this assault. How long had they been in the area? Did they already know he and Damon were there? Were they assaulting the tower because they thought they could pin the SPARTAN down? Did they know where the ex-soldier was?

Nate tore his eye away from the scope and rolled away, snatching his combat rifle from the floor.

Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Just had to check the big Supermutant base out, didn't we? The Brotherhood had been in the area and they didn't even know. This had been stupid. Why had Nate gone along with it? Right, because I could have changed his mind.

Scrambling to find cover, the ex-soldier tucked himself behind a pile of what used to be furniture.

There was no guarantee and Damon had wired the doors.

Even so, he strained to catch any approaching steps over the roaring fight.

If they did know he was there, how long would they take to catch him? If Nate were planning this, he would have done it as they started the attack. The explosion of violence had been a pretty good distraction.

Great. Now what?

If they're coming after him, the absolute worst thing he could do is stick his head into the staircase. Without any sort of entry device, it would be a quick way to die.

So I just wait here?

Sometimes waiting is the best option. Wait for the fighting to die down, wait for Damon to get back.

Wait for anyone out there to make a move.

The .308 rifle Nate was cradling wouldn't do much to a suit of T-60. The McMillan was still laying on the floor where he left it…

Better to have something to fight with than sit here and fight with hopes and dreams.

Nate slipped back to the rifle in a half crouch. His eyes were fixed on the nearest service door 30 feet away.

Nothing.

He retrieved the rifle without incident. It was too heavy to keep shouldered for anything longer than a minute. Instead, he settled for propping it on its bipod and aiming it toward that same door.

Now… there was nothing to do but wait.

Seconds dragged on into minutes. The fighting outside changed pitch. He could still hear the Vertibirds buzzing the top of the tower, but their gunfire had died down. More was muffled now, coming from inside the structure. From the sounds of things it was going about as well as all relatively high number, tight, close-quarters combat goes. That is to say, hectic. Constant rattle of automatic gunfire, both conventional and laser. There were a few explosions mixed in with the shooting. On top of all that, the Vertibirds were still pounding at the air as they circled above.

If Nate didn't know better, he might have thought he was back in an active combat zone before the War.

Time continued dragging on. It felt like hours were passing as he lay behind the sniper rifle. Its muzzle was just far enough away from the rubble to prevent the blast from showering him with debris.

But it wasn't hours. It was about 10 minutes. It didn't help that, on more than one occasion, it felt like there was a Vertibird directly over his head

And Damon wanted to go after this place with just the two of us…

Look, yes Damon is Damon, which is to say a monster on the battlefield. This fight though… if a Brotherhood task force with Vertibird and snipers for support was struggling this much…

Nate didn't know if he wanted to imagine, without the threat of interference, the SPARTAN could have handled it or not. On one hand, it would be nice to know the person providing the muscle was good enough to take on an army. On the other… it would be pretty terrifying to know the person providing their muscle could take on an army.

But I already know, don't I?

Damon hadn't taken on any armies yet, not directly, but he had killed almost everyone in the hospital. He had assaulted a Raider base to extract Danse. And, besides the Institute ambush, he'd never been seriously injured.

While Nate didn't know for sure, he decided he liked the idea the supersoldier could do it. Maybe that means they won't get wiped out by the Brotherhood or Institute. At least until the Minutemen were ready to defend themselves.

15 minutes and the fighting was still going strong. 20 minutes since the Vertibirds showed up.

And still no Damon.

It's possible he figured out what was going on and stayed in the building's basement. If he'd been caught in the fighting… well the SPARTAN's primary goal would have been to disengage.

By this point, it was probably safe to say the Brotherhood didn't know he was there.

As quietly as he could, the ex-soldier shuffled back to his overwatch position-

Lasers and muzzle flashes were raging halfway up the tower. The fighting was only halfway through the building. The Vertibirds were still circling the tower, occasionally pouring fire onto the roof.

The fight was moving a lot slower than the Brotherhood probably wanted. 20 minutes of active combat, it doesn't matter if the Institute didn't have any assets in the area. A smaller force remaining in one area this long, Ayo would have Coursers snooping around. If Nate were running the show, he'd have a second task force on standby waiting to move in to support.

Before he could make any other observations, something clicked behind the ex-soldier. It was barely audible over the fighting, but that hadn't been his imagination.

Nate set the sniper's stock on the floor and slid his hands over to his combat rifle.

Another click. This time twice.

Pushing himself into a crouch, the infantryman pulled his rifle up and sighted on the door.

Another single click.

That was a distinct pattern. Damon?

As the ex-soldier slipped toward the door, he kept his footsteps as soft as possible. With the amount of debris on the ground, he spent more attention avoiding it than he did on the door.

He reached the door and, standing off to the side, Nate tapped the barrel of his rifle against its frame.

If it wasn't Damon… would someone in T60 have been able to climb the concrete stairs on the other side without making enough sound to be heard?

The latch clicked-

An instant later the SPARTAN's unmistakable armored form slipped through and he swung it closed again. Nate wasn't too proud to admit a massive wave of relief washed over him.

The ex-soldier lowered his rifle and stood. "This turned into a shit show." That's what he wanted to say but this wasn't the time or place for quips. They needed to decide what came next.

"We should go", he whispered. "Ayo will have Coursers scouting the area. If the Brotherhood doesn't send support, they'll probably hit this task force. If the Brotherhood does send support, which they probably will, this position won't stay safe."

Damon looked out the window at the raging fight. The ex-soldier had half a mind to ask him how he'd gotten out but that was a story for another time. One with less risk of being shot.

"Probably?" the supersoldier asked as he turned back to Nate.

"Yeah", Nate nodded, "it looks like they're running my old playbook. Protocol is to have a second force on standby for support and recovery if things go bad. I doubt this", he jerked his head toward the tower, "is what they had in mind when they started raining hellfire down on those freaks. Too much time and too much noise."

The ex-soldier doubted that was anything Damon didn't already know, but better safe than sorry… especially considering the risk he'd taken coming out here.

"Coming here was a bad idea."

So long as the armored titan doesn't do something else because Nate suggested this.

"Staying longer than we already have is an even worse idea."

Damon grunted. "Any suggestions on a path?"

What? Nate couldn't help his eyes widening. Not only was the SPARTAN agreeing with him, he was asking for advice? It made sense. After all, they both knew Nate was intimately more familiar with the city. In a situation like this, with his knowledge and experience, the ex-soldier was the best person to suggest a route.

Whatever had crawled up Damon's ass earlier was gone, so it seemed.

"Out the north side of the building. Head east. There's a subway entrance three blocks from here. If it isn't collapsed, we can use it to get away. If it is, there's another path we can take to the north. It's longer but it will keep us out of the fighting."

After a moment's consideration, the SPARTAN offered a curt nod and slipped across the room to collect the McMillan. He cast one more glance at the tower before returning. Did he want more time to watch the fight? Gather intel? Or was he dreaming about blowing the building up with everyone inside?

It was hard to know with Damon.

Whatever was swimming around in that metal can only lasted an instant. He clamped the rifle to his back and returned to the door. Nate handed him the few magazines he'd been left with and offered a curt nod. The SPARTAN swung the door open and ducked into the dark staircase beyond.

The journey down felt like it took forever. With no cover from a possible attack, the ex-soldier stuck close to his companion. It wouldn't be the first time he'd used Damon as protection

… And he'd offered before so, assuming he didn't want Nate to get shot, the supersoldier wouldn't mind.

Every noise seemed to echo off the concrete walls and stairs. Even with the building muffling incoming sounds, the fight outside was still audible.

That didn't do much to fix the stale, motionless air. It felt like he was having to actively pull it into his lungs to breathe. Here he was again, in the middle of Boston, a relatively large gunfight raging a few hundred yards away. Fights, people dying, that was the rule in the ex-soldier's life, not the exception.

At least, this time, the… people who were doing the dying were ones he wasn't going to lose sleep over. Especially the Supermutants

In an odd twist, the Brotherhood showing up might have been the best solution for destroying them.

Though Nate wouldn't mind watching the building crumble with all those green bastards inside.

A little less than a minute later, the two of them emerged from the staircase and started toward their exit.

Most of the bottom floor had been ransacked at some point. Chairs, desks, shelves, and tables were overturned and broken. Crossing it to the north side of the building without making noise was almost impossible. It seemed like every step Nate took was within millimeters of hitting five different things.

They reached the northern entrance which would spit them back onto the street-

Damon recoiled from the door.

"Brotherhood soldiers outside. At least one squad", he said just loud enough to be heard over the fighting.

Of course it couldn't be that easy.

When the Vertibirds had felt like they were directly over him, that hadn't been his imagination. They were directly over him. The VTOLs had dropped ground forces.

The SPARTAN pulled the McMillan from his back.

Oh no. We aren't doing that. "If we engage, we're gonna have that task force up our asses."

"No shit", he muttered, still facing the door. "We'll use the basement."

After 30 seconds of searching, they found a service door in the southwest corner of the building. Damon wrenched the rusted door open and, once it was closed behind them, they were plunged into complete darkness.

"Contacts?"

"Negative", came the reply.

The ex-soldier clicked the small flashlight mounted to his rifle on. It lit up the small concrete room they'd emerged into. There were a few shelves to his right and a staircase at the far end. If 'far' means 15 feet away.

This was definitely one of those times Nate would like to have better equipment. Night vision would be much better than swinging a flashlight around everywhere, but it's what he had.

If the glance Damon shot over his shoulder was anything to judge by, the SPARTAN was thinking the same thing. "Ferals might be down here."

He pulled a chemical light from a pouch on his belt and handed it to the smaller man. Nate cracked it to life and switched the light on his gun off. The small room was bathed in sickly green. It wasn't dim enough to avoid notice, especially if something lived down here, but it was better than a bright LED flashlight.

"Before we get going, do me a favor and don't shoot that down here", the ex-soldier whispered. "I'd like to keep my eardrums intact."

The only response he got was a grunt but, as Damon moved toward the staircase, he placed the McMillan on his back. Starting down the stairs, he shouldered the Mk18.

Nate wanted to say that was better, but the combat rifle was damn near as loud.

Whatever NVS Damon had in that helmet of his must have been good. Even with Nate's light playing hell with the brightness and shadows while pacing behind the SPARTAN, he didn't get one of his own.

Sounds of gunfire faded into obscurity as they crept deeper into the basement. An eerie silence took its place and the only thing that broke it was their footsteps. Again, even on concrete, the armored behemoth made almost no noise. Despite the situation, Nate found himself studying Damon's gait to figure out how that was possible. With how thick some of that plating was, that armor couldn't weigh much, if any, less than T60. On a surface like this, you'd be able to hear someone in the power armor he was used to coming from a few city blocks away.

And that isn't an exaggeration.

The SPARTAN's legs were tensed and he was setting his armored boots down so smoothly they might as well not have been contacting anything. Still… it should have made some sort of noise.

Head in the game. No guarantee there's nothing down here.

Shoving the inane thoughts away, Nate refocused on their cramped surroundings. Basements like this were used for maintenance and utilities. That meant, back before the bombs fell, this place would have been humming with mechanical activity.

Now there was nothing.

All they had to keep them company was silence so thick, it felt like the air was choked with it. Then there was the air itself: stale and unmoving. Nate could feel himself drawing in dust with every breath and it tasted of oil and mold. If there was machinery around them, both of those things made sense.

Combine that with the narrow hallways, small rooms, and ceiling so low Damon was walking in a high crouch, the ex-soldier was glad he hadn't developed claustrophobia from countless hours in APCs.

After 10 minutes of searching, they found a room that confirmed the SPARTAN's claim. A hall slightly wider than the others opened up into a room large enough it must have dominated the majority of the building's footprint. There were old, rusted machines placed around it, most with either plumbing or cables as thick as the ex-soldier's chest running to them. Nate liked to consider himself handy and well-informed about utilities and maintenance, but these were a little different than the water purification system he'd installed in his and Nora's house.

"Light off", Damon hissed barely loud enough for him to hear.

Nate jammed the chem stick into a pocket and the world plunged into darkness yet again.

"Ferals."

Dammit… why'd he have to be right about that?

Reaching out, the ex-soldier placed a hand on the cold metal of Damon's back. "Your lead."

Alerting the husks wouldn't be the end of the world. The problem would arise if they made too much noise. Yes, they were several levels deep in the basement, but with the acoustics in that place, it wouldn't be a surprise if a gunshot made it to ground level.

Damon started forward slowly and Nate felt panic begin to poke at the edge of his mind. He'd felt this panic before, and it wasn't one he liked. It's the same panic you feel as a child when you're running up the stairs, imagining some monster chasing you. Or the panic you feel when your closet is left open and you can't see into the back.

Fear of the unknown.

After what felt like an hour trudging through the darkness, and two blind turns where he was sure he'd hit something, he felt the SPARTAN drop six inches. They must be at a set of stairs.

They were in a room with an unknown number of real monsters, 50 feet underground with the weight of a skyscraper overhead. A skyscraper of questionable structural integrity.

While Nate may not be claustrophobic, he could feel his heart begin pounding faster.

"Steel walkway, one on it", Damon whispered. It was, again, barely audible but the ex-soldier found himself clenching at the sudden intrusion into his personal hell.

Deep breath. In four count, hold four count, out four count, hold four count.

A ghoul on the walkway?

We'll see how good Damon is at killing things quietly…

Once he felt the armored titan's movement level out, Nate began placing his steps more carefully. A steel walkway was worse than concrete.

On the fourth step down, he felt the surface change from featureless to ribbed. His boot made a quiet ting when it contacted, but no louder than Damon's whisper.

The supersoldier led him forward at a slow, plodding pace. It gave the infantryman time to make every step as perfect as he could while still resting a hand on the cold metal of his back. Nate found himself holding his breath as they walked. That was a dumb thing to do, but it was involuntary. Every few seconds he had to remind himself to breathe so he didn't start gasping. That's the last thing he needed right now, surrounded by who knows how many feral ghouls.

Well, Damon probably knew how many were, but he wasn't sharing.

Not that the infantryman could blame him considering their company.

Every step seemed to drag on into eternity. It wasn't just the ghouls. It wasn't just the oppressive weight of the building overhead. It wasn't just the stale air. It wasn't just the stilted silence. It wasn't just the complete and total blackness.

All of those things combined to turn their current situation into a nightmare.

Nate's throat was so tight he was surprised he wasn't having trouble breathing. It took almost every bit of his concentration to draw air in without it hitching. That didn't leave much for him to focus on maintaining an even pace.

The idea of being above ground, fighting with the Brotherhood and Supermutants was almost more palatable than taking the next step. And the one after. And-

Damon stopped.

Had they reached the one he said was on the walkway?

As if in answer, the SPARTAN's back dropped away from Nate's hand. Even though he knew Damon was still there, his body didn't seem to care. The ex-soldier's stomach did a backflip and he felt panic clawing at his throat.

Deep breath… In, four count, hold, four count, out, four count, hold four count.

He could pull the chem stick from his pocket and chase the darkness away… but then he'd have to deal with the real monsters that inhabited it.

Whatever his imagination was telling him, it couldn't attack the ex-soldier.

An instant later, he heard the almost silent sound of two hard surfaces sliding against one another. That sound was replaced by a wet squelch, again, barely audible. No groans or screams in pain, no thrashing, just silence.

He knows how to kill quietly… There weren't many places you could kill someone without drawing a response. Even as few options as you had, the knife limited them even more. The only spot you could do it reliably was at the brainstem.

The gentle thk of the armored man withdrawing the knife from his kill sounded and then he was standing again.

Nate had to stop himself from sighing as he felt the cool, contoured metal press against his hand.

Once the SPARTAN started forward, Nate felt around with the toe of his boot until it brushed against the dead ghoul. He was careful to step over the body of Damon's latest victim.

Their interminable journey continued, trudging through the darkness. Nate's heart was beating so hard, blood pounding in his ears so loud it was almost deafening.

There was a shift to the right.

Damon froze in front of him and the ex-soldier's breath stopped with him. Nate felt the armored titan turn toward the sound. He could see with his night vision, but the infantryman was blind.

Threats all around and Nate couldn't see them.

Another shift, this one a few feet away from the first.

Then a third.

The two of them remained still as more sounded. Damon didn't react. The ex-soldier had to assume that meant they weren't in danger yet. No matter how hard he told himself, the rest of his body wasn't going to listen.

Even though he knew it was pointless, the infantryman's eyes were so wide it felt like they would fall out. He strained to pick up any light in the room. There was none.

Nate's body was convinced that, at any moment, he'd feel one of those things slam into him. He'd feel one of them grab him or hit him. He'd feel-

Almost as abruptly as Damon had stopped, he started walking again.

They continued creeping along the steel walkway for what felt like hours. In reality, it had probably been a few minutes. Eventually, the SPARTAN moved up and Nate followed him back onto a set of concrete stairs, he had to stop himself from exhaling in relief. That must have meant they were near the end of the room. With how long they'd been in there, they had to be, right?

Darkness still pressing down on him, the infantryman allowed himself to be led along by Damon.

Three turns later, Damon stopped again.

"Clear."

It took every piece of Nate's willpower to not scramble for the light in his pocket. When he did finally grab it, the green glow flushed through the dark interior.

"Shi-" the ex-soldier cut himself off and clapped a hand over his eyes.

Well, that was stupid.

Even with the dull green light, his pupils had dilated so far it felt as though he was staring into the sun.

When he was finally able to squint through the painful glare, Nate found himself standing in another cramped hallway.

Allowing himself that sigh of relief, the infantryman allowed his eyes to readjust before saying, "let's keep moving."

As they made their way further into the basement, they ran across four more feral ghouls. Unlike the first group, the rest were in narrow halls or small rooms. These ones were alone which meant they were quick, quiet, and easy for the armored titan to deal with.

Nate checked his Pipboy. 1547. They'd been down there for a little less than 15 minutes.

It was still the better option. With the type of fight the Brotherhood just got into with those Supermutants, they'd be in the area for a while. A standing army like that doesn't go in, fight a large-scale (for them) engagement, then leave. If the ex-soldier's experience was anything to go by, they'd be there until sundown. At least.

"Good call on this", he whispered shortly after he killed the fourth ghoul.

The SPARTAN spared him a glance before nodding. Damon didn't seem happy with the situation. It was something Nate could understand. The infantryman was under no delusions about why Damon brought him along. Despite that, not only was he working with Nate here, he'd essentially conceded to the ex-soldier integrating into their little team. It's possible he felt like he didn't have a choice, both down here and with negotiations.

A few more rooms searched, a few more dead ends. Damon quietly killed another ghoul along the way, but this was starting to get annoying.

… Why had Damon elected to let him help? Yes, bringing him along kept the ex-soldier away from Sanctuary. He'd gone a step further now. He could have very easily restrained Nate somewhere and done the negotiating just the three of them. He hadn't though.

Not for the first time, it struck Nate odd how resistant Damon was to forcing someone to do something. Physically, at least. It could be… difficult to disagree with the young man, for obvious reasons, but Nate had never seen Damon use his physical advantages to get his way.

Outside of torture, anyway.

There wasn't a damn thing Nate could have done if the armored behemoth decided he didn't want the ex-soldier involved. He hadn't.

Why?

Another 5 minutes ticked off Nate's Pipboy when the SPARTAN held up a fist.

"Sound ahead."

Sound? "What kind? Mechanical?"

A pause, then he shook his head. "Too irregular."

"People?"

The SPARTAN's shoulders lifted in the approximation of a shrug.

As Damon led him on, they rounded two more corners before coming to a service door. The door had "ACCESS" painted on it. Unless this was a staircase back up to the surface, that probably meant it was the route they were looking for.

Nate could hear faint sounds spilling out from behind it. They sounded like…

"Talking?" the ex-soldier whispered.

After another short pause, Damon nodded.

Someone was living down there. It wouldn't make sense for it to be the Brotherhood, searching the basements of these buildings would be too resource-intensive.

Even in the sickly green glow cast by the chem light, Nate could see the SPARTAN tense. "Hey, hold on", he said a little louder. "Whoever's down here might just want to stay out of the way. Let's keep things calm, alright?"

"You're going to talk your way through?" The SPARTAN looked at him. His question was reminiscent of the first time they were in a similar situation: the Triggermen.

A lot had changed since then, including Damon.

"I don't need to say the same thing I did the first time."

No reply. The supersoldier didn't argue with him, but he didn't shut the idea down either.

Again… strange.

"I'll take that as a yes", the ex-soldier said as he started forward.

Damon held an arm out to block his path. "I'll do it."

What? Nate blinked. "You'll do it?" He couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"I don't feel like explaining what happened if you get shot or blown up."

"How thoughtful…" he muttered. Still, the SPARTAN playing diplomate? While he would love to get out of the basement, that's something he didn't want to miss.

The ex-soldier stepped away as Damon examined the door for traps. Satisfied there were none after a few seconds, he pounded a fist against it.

Subtle. Nate had to choke back the scoff.

A loud, wordless shout echoed through the door accompanied by what sounded like something toppling to the ground. "Who the hell's there?" The voice was gravelly and strained. It sounded a lot like Hancock's

"Someone passing through", Damon called, "We're trying to get to an adjacent building through the basement."

"What for?"

The SPARTAN paused and Nate got the distinct sense he was decided on what flavor of 'none of your business' he wanted to use.

"Damon", Nate whispered. The armored titan met his gaze. "Just tell them."

He cocked his head at the smaller man but said, "there's fighting up top. We're trying to avoid it."

"Why should I care about what you crazy people up on the surface do."

"You don't have to. We just need to get through", the SPARTAN replied.

We'd 'like' to get through. 'Like', dammit. The ex-soldier shook his head.

There was a short pause before the other person replied. "No one comes down here to get through. Not with the others around. How'd you get by 'em?"

"Turned our lights off."

He's hopeless. That time, Nate couldn't stop the exhale. "Can I please do this?" he whispered. Damon didn't respond.

"Uh-huh. You wanna avoid that fight so bad, you crawl your ass around this basement in the dark to look for a tunnel to another building that might not even exist. You expect me to believe that?"

"Tell him we'll come in with our hands up. He lives in a goddamn basement, he doesn't have anything that will hurt you."

This time the SPARTAN hesitated.

Nate waved his hands in exasperation. "Just do it."

"I have someone we can't risk getting injured", Damon said slowly. "We aren't here to fight. We'll come in with our hands up."

It was the speaker's turn to pause. Whoever it was didn't want a fight either. If this was their only way to the next building over, their options were to get this group's cooperation, fight their way through (something Nate was not interested in doing), or wait the Brotherhood out. That was also something the ex-soldier wasn't interested in doing. Not in an old basement full of feral ghouls holding up a crumbling tower.

Muttering came from behind the door. It was too muffled for the infantryman to make out, but the discussion was promising. Maybe.

"Alright, we'll let you through", the speaker finally replied. "I'm gonna unlock the door, you try to open it before I tell you to, you're gonna get pumped full of lead. When I do, you open it nice and slow, put your guns inside and then wait until I tell you to come in. Got it?"

Wait… that was a fast change of heart. Damon cocked his head at the ex-soldier. Both of them were thinking the same thing.

Was asking the right move? What should Damon say?

As if reading his mind, the SPARTAN motioned to him, then the door.

Finally.

"This is the other person he's with", Nate called. "Not that I'm not glad you're willing to let us through, but why the sudden change?"

"Hey 'other person'. We want you gone is why."

You could accomplish the same thing by telling us to leave. Unless they think we'd fight our way through.

"Stay around the corner when I open the door", Damon whispered.

So he was making the decision for them. Well, Nate did just say they wouldn't have anything that would hurt him. He nodded.

"Agreed", the SPARTAN called.

"Fantastic."

Nate retreated to the next corner and knelt behind it as footsteps approached the door. He heard a heavy latch clang open, then a bolt. A few seconds of silence, then the speaker said, "open her up niiice and slow."

Old metal hinges groaned as Damon pushed the door open. No explosions, no gunshots.

Promising start.

"Guns through", the call came. The speaker's voice was different now without the steel door to muffle it, but the odd, scratchy quality remained.

Slipping back around the corner, the ex-soldier found the door open a hand's breadth. Dull orange light was spilling through into the hall, a welcome change from the cold, damp darkness he'd been suffering through.

Once they'd set their weapons on the other side of the door, a collection of footsteps approached once again. Damon notably kept the McMillan on his back. That probably wouldn't play well, but Nate understood why he did. As they neared, the SPARTAN slid out in front of the door, placing himself between Nate and it.

After a moment of scuffling, the footsteps receded and the speaker called, "open the door slow."

Damon stepped forward and pushed it the rest of the way open. As light spilled through the widening gap, a collection of surprised exclamations accompanied it.

"What the fuck are you?" someone cried in alarm.

"Whoa, hey everyone calm down-" Nate started to step out from behind the SPARTAN when he saw a half dozen ghouls at the end of a 20-foot-long hall. Each of them was aiming a gun of some sort at Damon.

Before Nate could get all the way out, the armored titan reached back and shoved the smaller man behind him again.

"Hold your fire!" the ex-soldier shouted.

"And let you kill us? You Brotherhood? We heard what you bastards done in the Capital Wasteland.

"No! No, we aren't with them. That's who we're escaping from. They're fighting the large group of Supermutants out there."

A short pause. "So what's that armor your buddy's wearing."

Huh. It dawned on the infantryman so many people knew about the SPARTAN, he hadn't needed to explain this for a while.

"I'm Nate. This guy's Damon. We aren't from around here." Technically, that was true. Damon had been born on another planet- in a different universe. Nate had been born almost 250 years ago. "The armor they wear is called T-60 power armor. It's very different from this. I'm sure you've seen it if you know who the Brotherhood is."

Another pause, this one longer. This time there was muttering at the far end of the hall. Damon hadn't budged. The ex-soldier peeked out from behind his impromptu cover. All of the ghouls still had their weapons trained on the armored titan, but only three of them were looking at him. Like he'd guessed, none of the guns, a collection of handguns and very worn-out-looking rifles, would get through Damon's armor.

"You're running from the Brotherhood", the original speaker said. He was at the front of their little formation, aiming a bolt action hunting rifle at them. It wasn't a question, not really.

"Yes", Nate answered anyway.

"Fancy armor like that, you aren't some group of guns for higher. So who are you?"

"We're with the Minutemen", Damon said before the ex-soldier could respond. That… was unexpected.

"The Minutemen? They got run outta town by the Gunners."

Nate stepped out from behind the SPARTAN.

"They did." Damon nodded. "We established a new base of operations, hit the Gunners in Quincy a week ago."

Several of the ghouls exchanged glances, but the speaker's eyes narrowed. "Bullshit."

"I killed Clint and his squad. They're done in Quincy."

"You killed Clint?" The ghoul motioned with his rifle. "You do it with that big ass gun you didn't hand over?"

The SPARTAN shook his head. "A few bombs and my knife." He motioned to the hilt protruding from underneath his left arm. "Their power armor was too thick to get through with this." Damon pointed to the McMillan on his back. His nonchalance was almost amusing.

You don't say… The ex-soldier ruthlessly suppressed the smile that was trying to spread across his face. At least Damon was learning.

"As much as I'm enjoying myself", Nate interjected, "I don't like the idea of standing around here with feral ghouls at my back so… are we good now? We aren't here to fight."

"You give us that gun and yeah, we're good."

There was a short pause and Nate could almost see the gears turning in the armored man's head. It wasn't a long one though. Now that he knew they didn't have anything that he couldn't deal with if needed, he probably felt a little more comfortable with the idea of being unarmed. Frankly, it wasn't like having a gun made him any more dangerous in tight quarters like the basement.

Moving slowly, Damon pulled the large caliber rifle from his back, dropped the magazine, and emptied the chamber. Ammunition back in his bag, he held the sniper out.

The ghoul said. "Nah, nah. Set it there and back away."

Damon did and the two of them stepped back from the door. Nate was still struggling with his face to keep the smile behind it. The SPARTAN was cooperative. He never thought he'd see the day.

Three of the six ghouls, one of them the speaker, stalked forward. None of them took their eyes, or their aim, off the armored titan.

They collected the McMillan, the man who lifted it grunting as he did. The ex-soldier allowed a smile through, this one sympathetic. If you weren't ready for how heavy the thing was, it could be a surprise.

"C'mon", the ghoul said. "Let's go."

About damn time.

Nate and Damon followed their new hosts into the hall. One of the basement dwellers skirted around them, pressing himself to the wall and staring at the SPARTAN as he did. The ghoul pulled the door shut behind them and latched it.

The hall was lit by a collection of lamps hung from the ceiling. At the end where he'd seen them gathered, the corridor emptied into a decent-sized room. It was larger than most of the ones they'd trudged through. In it was everything from beds around the outside to a small cooking area made up of a few hot plates, pans, and a collection of chairs. They had a foldout card table in the middle. It looked like they'd interrupted a game of some sort. There were pieces scattered across the table along with a deck of cards.

If he were to put a word to the living area, he'd call it 'cozy'.

"Welcome to our humble abode", one of them said, a sour note in her voice.

It wasn't a shock, they liked their privacy. To have someone intrude on it like they had would be difficult for them.

"We appreciate you letting us through", the ex-soldier replied.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

There was another door on the opposite end. "ACCESS" was painted on it just like the one they'd come through.

The speaker stopped near the exit. "You're gonna have to wait here a little while. Need to go get the guard rounded up."

Feral ghouls? "You can do that? Go around them without getting attacked?"

"Yeah. They like us, unlike you smooth-skin, surface-dwelling people."

That… sounded like an insult and a joke at the same time.

"I'll take your word for it."

He nodded. "Good."

"Before you go", Nate said as the man turned, "you mind if we get your names? I know it's strange, but I'd like to thank you properly."

"My name's Jesko", the ghoul said, "if they wanna tell you their names, that's up to them."

Without waiting for a response, Jesko pulled the door open and strode into the darkness beyond.

It was awfully trusting of him to leave the two of them with his people. All of this was. Them deciding to let them through so suddenly. While the reason he'd given made sense, it still raised an alarm.

Until they give me a reason to do something, a suspicion is just a suspicion. He'd be attentive but other than that, the ex-soldier wasn't going to do anything. He glanced at Damon. He just has to figure out how to keep the supersoldier from doing anything.

And then there was still the matter of the stunt Damon had pulled. He put both of them in harm's way because something got knocked loose in that tin can of his. Maybe it was back in place, maybe it wasn't. What Nate needs to figure out is why. He had a pretty good idea already, but if he'd learned anything about the armored giant, it was to never assume you were right.

"Do you guys mind if we talk in private for a sec?"

All five of them shot him a dubious look in unison.

"You can keep the guns, we just had a little… incident I'd like to sort out before we go back up."

Damon met his gaze, glare burning once again. The SPARTAN wouldn't want to talk about it. He wouldn't want to talk about it around strangers even more. The ex-soldier could admit it wasn't any of their business, but what were they going to do with whatever information they learned?

"Fine. You can use the hall", the woman who had talked earlier said. "But we've used these before." She hefted her rifle. It was another hunting rifle that looked like it should have been retired around the same time the bombs fell. Its wood stock was pitted and dry with rust on the outside of the barrel. That thing was probably more dangerous for whoever was behind it than the person standing in front. "Name's Lucy."

The ex-soldier nodded. "Thanks, Lucy." He started back toward the hall, but Damon remained firmly rooted in place.

That didn't shock Nate in the slightest.

"Either we do this now, or we do it in front of Brenda and Cass when we get back." He nodded at the ghouls who still had their guns. "Not like you can shoot me right now."

Damon stared a moment longer before muttering, "don't bet on it."

Even so, the SPARTAN stalked after him. The threat of doing it with the others around seemed to be enough to motivate him. Both of those two were anything but cowed by the armored titan. If anything, they enjoyed giving him shit.

"What?" Damon demanded as they reached mid-way down the hall.

"Don't play stupid", the ex-soldier started. He didn't bother trying to keep his voice down. Every surface around them was concrete, the sound would reach their hosts no matter what. "That was reckless. You know that was reckless."

"Explain."

"Explain?" Nate asked. "Explain why going after a target like that was a bad idea?"

The SPARTAN shifted and Nate got the distinct impression it wasn't because he was uncomfortable. "I didn't 'go after' them. It was a recon mission."

"One that put us in the middle of a fight. The Brotherhood hates the Supermutants too. That large a group would be an obvious target."

"And an obvious risk", Damon retorted. "I don't wait for other people to handle problems."

You aren't getting away with that. "You know that's bullshit, Damon. This was a detour, one that added unnecessary risk to an important and already strenuous mission. We're out here to-" the ex-soldier bit off the end of the sentence. Sure, their current hosts weren't likely to care about the information, but better not push things. "This needs to go right. We're putting people in the line of fire if it doesn't."

"Leaving a dangerous presence that close to Goodneighbor does the same thing."

Nate shook his head. "They've shown they can handle themselves. You're using them as an excuse." While, yes, the SPARTAN removing that threat would make Goodneighbor safer, and both of them knew that, they also both knew Nate was right

Damon's silence was confirmation. This wasn't mission essential, it was a distraction.

"What's been up with you the last few days?" he continued. "I know you're not a fan of bringing me with you but this is ridiculous. You've been acting like…" Like a child.

No response. As usual, with that helmet on, it was impossible to tell what the armored titan was thinking. Sometimes Nate was tempted to tear the damn thing off so he could see Damon's face.

But that would end with a lot of broken bones. Or death.

The SPARTAN wasn't going to say anything though? "Well? I mean, you have to know what we just did was stupid. Very stupid. What happens if you aren't able to get out the way you did? You get trapped and captured? Or killed? What happens to Cass or Brenda? The Minutemen? People are relying-"

"Don't you think I know that?" Damon finally said, voice quiet. Maybe even remorseful. It was… surprisingly subdued, coming from the normally assertive supersoldier.

"So… what's with the attempted suicide mission then?" An exaggeration, yes, but the SPARTAN knew that.

Damon went back to staring. The ex-soldier had very little doubt he knew the answer but, whatever it was, he didn't want to say.

"What, you don't wanna tell me about it? Damon, you're gonna have to get over this at some point." Even as the words left Nate's mouth, he knew he made a mistake.

In an instant, the armored man stiffened and any semblance of cooperation vanished.

"You don't get to say that", he responded. His voice was just as quiet, but the concrete that usually laid beneath everything the SPARTAN said was back. "I'll use you as long as you're useful to the Minutemen. Don't expect anything past that."

Turning away, Damon marched back to their impromptu hosts' living quarters. That left Nate alone in the hall. He tilted his head back and stared at the ceiling.

Nice one. The ex-soldier let out a long exhale.

Of course, Damon was right. Nate didn't get to say that. It wasn't like the SPARTAN was the only one with cause for hesitation. Yes, Nate betraying him, indirectly, led to Damon killing Grant.

Damon was still the one to pull the trigger.

That same, haunting image flashed through his head.

At least I'm working with him. I'm not pouting like some child because I'm with someone I don't like. It isn't like he's useful in these negotiations beyond his prese-

Was that it? The SPARTAN felt useless?

Nate looked down the hall toward where his hulking form had disappeared.

No, that seemed too petty. Back before the ambush, Damon had left the talking to Nate. Hell, he'd actively pushed it off to him. It couldn't be that, not by itself, anyway.

Whatever was going on with their resident walking WMD, it might have had something to do with that. Digging right then wouldn't have been a good idea. While it wasn't much, it felt like something had changed. A crack had appeared in the wall Damon built between them. Was that because the SPARTAN had realized what he'd done was stupid? Or was it a genuine shift?

It would be impossible to tell for the time being. The best option is to leave it alone.

This'll have to get sorted out eventually. The ex-soldier nodded to himself. It would, but pushing things right then was a bad idea.

Starting down the hall, he resigned himself to trusting the SPARTAN. Damon seemed to realize he was acting strange. That meant Nate could probably count on him to revert to his standard operating procedure. It still entailed violence, a lot of violence, but at least it would be well-organized and thought-out violence.

X

Without having to worry about feral ghouls attacking them, or wandering around the basement aimlessly hoping to find their way, the trip went much smoother on their way out. The trio of ghouls escorting them wasn't much for conversation. That was fine; conversation wasn't necessary for getting out of the maze of narrow halls and cramped rooms.

When they'd made the journey down into the basement of the first building, that felt like it had been hours. They were out of the basement of the adjoining building within 5 minutes of leaving the ghouls' hideout.

Once we reached the bottom of the stairs leading back above ground, the first ghoul, Jesko stopped.

"We'd appreciate it if our little home down here stayed a secret", he said. "But… there are a lot of ghouls that live like us. The Brotherhood don't like our kind so if you're actually with the Minutemen, and the Minutemen are fighting the Brotherhood…" He trailed off.

"We'll do everything we can", Nate responded.

Jesko looked away for a moment before turning back. "What I'm trying to say is we wanna see the Minutemen win. We'll talk to the others, see what they'll do but the underground in this city has a lot of hidden places no one looks." The ghost of a smile crossed his mottled face in the light cast by his battery-operated lamp. "There are some folks who know those places well."

Ah. The ex-soldier returned his smile. "I hope those folks are willing to share their secrets with us."

"We'll do everything we can", the ghoul echoed.

After Jesko returned to the living area, he'd had a short conversation with the others. Something in their demeanor changed after that. Nate didn't know if they'd talked about what the others overheard, but they seemed a lot more cooperative. They even returned their guns.

Maybe having that conversation- argument?- with Damon had been a good idea for more than one reason.

The SPARTAN barely said a word after that. Even so, the atmosphere around him was different too. His wasn't as visibly tense as he had been the last few days. Nate was under no delusion that was because he'd gotten through the armored titan's thick helmet and thicker skull. No, what likely happened was he realized his behavior had been counterproductive.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

"Glad to hear." Nate held his hand out. The ghoul looked from his face, down to the extended hand, and back. After another few seconds' hesitation, he grasped it and shook. Jesko was wearing gloves, but even through them, the ex-soldier could feel the odd, pockmarked texture of his skin. His hand felt frail, almost.

"Now get outta my basement."

Nate turned to Damon and the larger man offered a curt nod before beginning up the stairs.

When they reached the top, Damon cracked the steel service door open and peered through. A few seconds later, he swung it the rest of the way open and slipped into the building beyond.

No shooting, no shouts of alarm. Just silence.

Good start.

"Clear", the SPARTAN said quietly. Nate followed him through.

The service stairs let them out at the back of the lobby. Their new surroundings weren't markedly different from the ground floor of the last building. Most of the walls were relatively intact and the same couldn't be said for the furniture. This part of the building had been spared the worst of the nuclear blast, but that doesn't stop time and scavengers from taking their toll.

It felt like they'd spent hours down in the darkness of that basement. The ex-soldier was half expecting to see the oranging light of a setting sun spilling through the broken front windows.

His Pipboy read just past 1700. The sunlight was graying, which meant clouds had formed, but there was still daylight left.

Squads of Brotherhood soldiers patrolling the streets were missing. On this side of the building, anyway. There was still the thrum of props thudding overhead but no shooting to accompany it.

So the Brotherhood had wiped out the Supermutants. No shocker there. He cast a glance at the SPARTAN who was creeping toward the front of the building. They have plenty of vehicles and bodies to throw at the problem.

Damon stopped near the front and, after a few moments of scanning, waved the ex-soldier forward. At least he was back to normal. Maybe.

Out of habit, Nate checked the street outside before the two of them slipped across to the opposite side.

After a few moments of consideration, scanning the buildings around them, the ex-soldier decided they'd come up a street north of where they'd been. So either they were on the edge of the Brotherhood perimeter, or they had ground units in the area that heard the McMillan shooting.

His luck wasn't that good, so Nate had to guess it was the latter.

In either case, the Brotherhood knew someone else was in the area. They have a lot of places to search, but that was no reason to stick around and risk being found.

The two of them continued heading north, away from the former battle, until they were far enough away to turn east. His proposed route of using the subway wasn't blocked so they descended into the tunnels.

Throughout the journey, the SPARTAN was silent. That wasn't out of the ordinary on its own, but he seemed… distracted? No, that wasn't it, Nate didn't notice any lapse of awareness. It was something else he couldn't put his finger on.

Instead of the flashlight on his rifle, Nate used another one of the SPARTAN's chem lights for illumination. It lent the subway tunnel an eerie green glow. Shadows were flattened and its radius was a dozen yards at best. At one point they came across a rusted-out train car that looked like it had been used as a home in the past. All of it served as an unneeded reminder of how the world fell apart.

Maybe realizing how stupid this little escapade was hit Damon harder than the ex-soldier thought it would. While Nate's never seen him brag about it, the armored titan takes pride in how good he is at what he does. That wasn't a shock considering what his life has been to this point. It's possible him making a mistake, especially one that very easily could have cost both of them their lives, in combat was a good wake-up call.

It could have been worse, at least. He could have engaged in that fight. Even at his worst, Nate could never imagine Damon doing something so monumentally stupid. The SPARTAN wasn't capable of that.

Their return trip to Goodneighbor took longer than going out. That was to be expected with the surface swarming with Brotherhood patrols. They followed the subway tunnel for about half a mile before exiting. It was still a few miles from Goodneighbor. If they didn't run into any trouble, they should be able to make it back before things got dark.

For once, and maybe the first time in the ex-soldier's life, they didn't run into any trouble. The journey above ground was spent ducking down alleys and through decrepit buildings. Twice, the two of them stopped when something sounded close. They never had to fight anything.

It was just beginning to get dark when the settlement's walls came into sight through the crumbling buildings.

"Hey", Nate said as they drew near. "I know we aren't 'good', but we have to work together. This is more than our current…" he trailed off.

"Problems?"

The ex-soldier nodded. "Problems."

Damon cocked his head. "You're still upset at me for killing that man in the hospital."

It wasn't a question. A surprisingly prescient observation coming from the SPARTAN. "Yeah. A lot of people are. But we have too much we need to do out here to let that get in the way. Are you gonna do anything else like this again?" That wasn't the best way to word this, Damon has never liked being lectured, but it's what he said before: this is too important to let personal vendettas get in the way.

"Coming out here was my idea", the SPARTAN said. He wasn't upset, it was a statement of fact. "I'll make it work."

Nate drew to a stop just outside earshot of the people standing guard in front of the gate. "I'm sure we'll make it work, I'm asking if you are gonna try something dumb again. You're the firepower here, we can't have you going off the reservation."

"I'll take care of my end."

"Good", the ex-soldier nodded. "That's all I care about."

They started forward again. Damon had been… oddly cooperative. If Nate didn't know better, he'd almost think the armored titan was treating him like he had before the ambush.

The guards at the gate greeted them as they approached. They hurried to get it open and let the two of them in.

As infuriating as he could be at times, being around the SPARTAN had its perks.

Glances were cast their way as they entered the settlement. Most were fleeting, but a few lingered. Those looked a bit more… unhappy with Damon's presence. It would surprise Nate if there wasn't anyone who detested their cooperation with the Minutemen and, by extension, the SPARTAN. He had broken in and killed people just a few months ago.

And Nate knew firsthand what that felt like.

Cass and Brenda weren't in their room anymore. The ex-soldier spotted them through the thin crowd sitting at a food stand. He didn't know what they were eating, but the two of them were talking with one another, the teenager gesturing excitedly as she did.

"Looks like they didn't take long", Nate mused.

"Yeah", Damon grunted. "Brenda's good with people."

Nate smiled. "She seems to think you're okay."

"She's tolerant. Good at taking things in stride."

It sounded like there was a story behind that but if Damon hadn't elaborated, he probably didn't want to. This is the most cooperative he'd been since the ex-soldier showed up in Sanctuary. He wasn't going to ruin it by pushing.

The ex-soldier shrugged. "Let's go see what they're talking about."

They sifted through what little crowd was there. Brenda, who was facing the front, noticed them almost immediately. She waved but stayed quiet. Damon already attracted enough attention.

"Sounds like things got a little wild", the woman said as they reached the food stand. "Vertibirds?"

"Yeah", the ex-soldier nodded. "The Supermutants turned out to be a little more difficult than we thought. The Brotherhood decided they wanted a piece of the action."

"Supermutants? Too difficult?" Brenda cocked an eyebrow at the SPARTAN.

"They were well prepared", Damon replied. "They've gotten better at planning."

"Supermutants? Better at planning?" She frowned. "I don't wanna hear that. We have enough problems as it is."

The SPARTAN shrugged. "I never got the chance to find out how well-prepared they were. The Brotherhood took care of it. I don't know if it was unique to that group or if it's a developing trend. It's something to look into."

"Add it to the list", Cass grumbled. "You can tell us about what happened, but you should eat." She pointed at her plate of half-eaten-

Steak?

"This is really good. Hancock said it came from a ranch a ways west, out of the Commonwealth. Their caravan only comes in once a month, but they just got a huge shipment of fresh Brahmin meat."

Oh man. How long has it been since he's had steak? Well seasoned, seared, and the middle left medium rare. He could almost taste the pepper-crusted sirloins he and Nora used to make. It was one of the few things she taught him how to make properly.

He always had a sneaking suspicion that was because Cook always teased him for not being able to cook anything. She'd taught him how to make it and invited them over for dinner one night so she could show him off. Her secret was to add a little bit of honey and cinnamon. The enzymes in the honey helped tenderize the meat as it cooked while the sugars caramelized on top. The cinnamon would help bring out the flavor of the steak while the salt and pepper kept the sweetness in check.

It wasn't until a few silent moments had passed that the ex-soldier noticed he was staring, mouth watering. Even Damon was looking down at him, head cocked to the side in that annoying, amused gaze.

"Uh, yeah, sure", Nate muttered. "Steak sounds great."

A/N: I hope the basement scene was… appropriately tense. It's something I've been finding interesting, writing action sequences from Nate's POV as more anxiety inducing. It makes sense, afterall, the guy has PTSD and isn't an interdimensional supersoldier. But I still want them to be exciting. More to come, any unforeseen disasters notwithstanding. I hope you all enjoyed and I'll see everyone next time!

Next chapter: 1/7, Poor Execution