A/N: Commendations from the realm of everlasting insanity! We've returned with another episode of How Much Can I Torment My Characters? (that will make more sense when you read the chapter) This is one of those chapters that I had planned out then, as I was writing it, completely changed that plan. Both Vix (my beta) and I thought it turned out as one of the best chapters I've written in a while. Anyway, I'll leave you to the words, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!

Chapter 70: Doubling Down

The worst part of my plan was the waiting. But I had to wait. If I made a move before the Raiders, it would be much harder to control the direction this goes.

While experience tells me, if such a large QRF deploys to reinforce an assault force, that assault force is going back in for more. If they don't retreat immediately, that is. Considering I'd been laying on the edge of the gulch for the better part of an hour, tucked against a rock and using the shadow it cast against the moonlight to hide me, that wasn't happening.

No. It seemed like they were planning their next move. At least, that's what I'd be doing.

Most of the Raiders that had been there when I arrived, including the man with the large caliber rifle, went inside. The QRF took positions standing guard. The original force probably needed sleep. I needed sleep. This is the second night in a row I've gone without it. It wasn't pulling at my eyes yet. Even so, I knew, if I decided it was time to get some, I'd be out in a matter of seconds.

If they don't move soon, I might need to break off.

I shifted, careful to stay in the shadow. My body was still doing alright but…

Fatigue is going to catch up with me.

That's something I couldn't worry about now. I'd have to take it into account and work around it. It isn't like I can catch up on a few months of sleep deprivation while waiting for these assholes to move.

No. That doesn't mean I don't need to be concerned about it.

Someone exited the large shop behind the neighborhood's southernmost house. The Raider -, a woman in a dark jacket, close-cropped hair under a beanie, and a tattered-looking MOLLE vest-, strode over to one of the guards and started talking. The man, in much more traditional 'Raider' garb, listened for a few seconds before nodding.

Once she turned to march back to the shop, he shouted something and a half dozen others gathered around him. This was promising.

Over the next minute or two, after handing out orders, the others dispersed and each gathered in smaller groups. So they have some sort of conventional command structure. Platoon leaders, squad leaders, and fire team leaders. That's good to know. They haven't figured out open displays like that gives anyone watching clear targets. I now know who to shoot if I want to throw their chain of command into chaos.

Guess it's a good thing for them I'm not trying to do that.

Is it? My plan is still to get them killed…

Regardless, they were getting ready to move, hopefully. That means I might get this done before I pass out from exhaustion. An exaggeration, maybe, but I need to make sure I do this right. I can't afford to make a mistake when I might be putting others in the line of fire. The goal is to avoid that. As the saying goes: a plan never survives contact.

I still needed to work out how to lure the Brotherhood out to meet these assholes. Get them away from the settlement to make sure no one else got caught up in the fighting.

The sound of gunfire might do that on its own. The Brotherhood will be on alert, anything that gets close will raise the alarm.

True. If that wasn't enough, I can always add some antagonism of my own.

Turning back to the gulch, I found Dogmeat still laying in the lowest point, head resting on his paws. The instant he saw me looking at him, the large dog was alert again, head up, eyes fixed on me. He crept toward me, stopping just below the edge of the ditch.

Again, I had to wonder who would have left him. This wasn't a normal level of intelligence for a dog. Not from my experience, anyway.

My experience is mostly short and violent.

Still…

When I looked back down toward the neighborhood, the Raiders were beginning to move to the south side, near the road.

That was my cue. I pushed myself back from the edge and headed west, staying low and out of sight. We had a few minutes at best. I don't need to start taking shots at them before they start moving. It can't be too long after.

With Dogmeat on my heels, once I was back in the cover of the forest, I bounded from the gulch and turned south. A quick glance through the trees confirmed the Raiders were still assembling. A few remained on guard as the others readied themselves to move. Still time. I'd guess another two or three minutes.

We continued through the forest, just behind the cover of the treeline. Another two hundred meters to go before we drew even with the houses. Then another few hundred. To reach a good firing position. Almost a half-klick.

How would Dogmeat hold up at that pace?

If he can't, we can regroup later.

As it was, the German Shepherd was just behind and to my left.

Another glance at my prey. It was hard to tell without the elevation of the hill, but it looked like they were almost done grouping up.

Keep moving.

There was-

My right foot slipped as I planted it in a loose patch of dirt. I just managed to stop it from sliding out entirely and I righted myself before anything bad could happen. That wouldn't have happened if I wasn't-

Forget it. Keep moving.

We turned east as we reached the base of the hill. Skirting a clearing, I was barely able to make out the houses through the trees ahead. It was impossible to see the Raiders.

My internal clock continued ticking down as I ducked under a limb as wide as my forearm. Despite that, I started to slow. The darkness of night along with the shadows cast by the sickly canopy above me would make me almost impossible to see without NVS. That advantage doesn't account for sound. The only thing I could hear besides the crunching of boots in the dirt ahead of us and the occasional barked order was the distant chatter of rotors. The settlement was a little over a klick away.

Which means I have to run from these assholes for a klick without engaging…

Things won't go well for them if this works out. I can worry about personal revenge later.

Not that they'd done anything to me. Not directly. They had attacked settlements under the Minutemen's and, by extension, my protection. That's enough.

"LET'S MOVE!" a shout echoed through the forest.

I was barely 200 meters away. Dogmeat was still there, maybe a little further back. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth. That didn't detract from the determination in his large, round eyes.

My armored boots continued pounding in the dried dirt and I double-checked the Mk18. Not that it needed another check.

As I drew within 100 meters of the houses, I slowed again. I caught a glimpse of Raiders through the trees. They were staying on the road. For now.

Time to change that.

Contrary to everything I'd ever been taught, everything I'd ever drilled into myself, I pulled my rifle up and sighted on one of them. He was talking with someone out of my line of sight. I didn't have a clean shot, it was through a half-dozen branches, nor could I see any follow-ups.

That didn't matter. I had a shot. That's all I needed.

Coming to a stop, I forced my breathing to calm, held, and squeezed.

The combat rifle barked a round into the relatively quiet night. After crashing through a branch, it slammed into the armor over the man's stomach. It was a lousy shot, not befitting a quality soldier, let alone a SPARTAN.

Effectiveness wasn't my goal. I need their attention.

And I got it.

My rifle's report didn't have time to fade into the night before a dozen lights flared into existence. They bathed the trees in a mixture of the warm, yellowish light of incandescent bulbs and the cold, piercing blue of LED.

"ANYONE SEE THAT?!", someone shouted.

It was impossible to tell who spoke. I didn't need to know.

Aiming the MK18 toward the voice, I squeezed off another round. Its muzzle flash was almost as explosive as the sound of the gunshot.

"THERE!" Another Raider shouted as the boom echoed through the forest.

I turned to retreat. The sounds of the Raiders crashing through the foliage followed.

Dogmeat stayed in front of me, still panting as he ran.

A burst of gunfire erupted behind me. Nothing came close enough to notice. Someone less experienced might not have known that.

While the Railroad had a supply of ammo for the MK18, I'd rather not purposely waste it. I grabbed the 10mm from my hip and fired a few shots back toward my pursuers.

Again, nothing with any chance of landing.

Intentionally firing to miss felt odd…

As Dogmeat and I shot across a small break in the foliage, the deep, flat thump of the suppressed rifle sounded. The round impacted a tree a meter to my left.

Looks like they thought about who to give those to.

A kilometer of being shot at without being able to return fire with any purpose. This is going to suck.

But I had to do it. Sure, there were plenty of options if I wanted to engage the Raiders. In fact, given the environment, I was at an advantage here.

I slipped to my right, avoiding a pair of trees Dogmeat squeezed between.

That wasn't the idea. I need to be patient.

Every 15 or 20 seconds, the Raiders would try shooting at me again. I maintained just enough pace to keep them on my tail, but out of easy engagement range in the confines of the forest. Most of the gunfire was small caliber. Maybe every third or fourth time one of the large caliber rifles would sound.

In turn, I returned fire. Not enough to deter them. Only enough to make the bastards think it was for real. It was a careful balance.

At the same time, I made sure to weave through the forest. Not enough to appreciably extend the run but it would throw the directional sense of anyone not accustomed to navigating this environment.

We hadn't even made it half a kilometer before I heard the pitch of pounding rotors change. They were heading our way.

Perfect.

It was almost hard It was almost difficult for me to believe the Raiders would fall for the ploy. Then again, given their numbers and armament, they meant to attack the settlement again. They're Raiders. They'd already be keyed up for a fight.

What did surprise me was their CO hadn't reigned them in. Whoever it was, while they weren't good, they were at least competent. Running headlong into this was… a bad idea.

Take advantage of it while I can. It was the first time I've tried this strategy. Next time, I'll be more nuanced. For now, I do what I came here to do.

The Vertibirds were almost directly overhead. Their powerful searchlights were blazing through the forest.

"Down", I barked at Dogmeat.

In an instant, the large German Shepherd slid to a stop beside some undergrowth and flattened himself beneath it. I pressed myself against a tree as the beams of light washed over us.

As soon as they'd passed I was moving again. My companion didn't need to be told to follow.

Just beneath the pounding rotors, I could hear a cacophony of thuds coming from the south. Ground forces were here.

Good.

No wonder the Institute used this strategy. It was so… easy.

I turned east. This fight was about to get started. It was time to find this assault force's commander. I'd like to have a few words with them.

My target would be in the rear. I'd have to wait until things got going, take out their guard, and capture them before the rest of the force could respond. Hopefully, at that point, the Raiders would collapse without leadership and be wiped out.

The trees were more sparse in the area. They were beginning to give way to the town to the south. No one was paying attention to the two dark figures sprinting away from the burgeoning fight.

As I dodged around a tree that had fallen across a large rock at some point in the past, I glanced back at the Vertibirds. There were four. They were circling now and I could see impacts sparking off their armor. One had a door gunner pouring minigun fire down on the Raiders below. It wasn't one-sided. I couldn't hear the large-caliber sniper, but I saw something heavy impact one of the aircraft. The bullet tore a groove in the cockpit's port-side armor.

By the time I turned north 30 seconds later, laser fire from the ground forces had joined the fray. Things were escalating faster than I expected. That was both a good and bad thing.

My pace slowed momentarily as my boot caught on a tree's root.

Good because the chaos of fast, hard-hitting engagements would make my job easier.

Bad because the chaos of fast, hard-hitting engagements would make the Raiders' withdrawal more likely.

I glanced to my right again. I couldn't see the Brotherhood soldiers through the trees, but the red flashes of their laser rifles, illuminating the forest in my HUD's night vision, were constant. Same with the return fire coming from the Raiders. It was accompanied by the cascade of conventional weapons' fire, minigun fire, and all topped off by the quartet or rotor-wing craft pounding at the air.

Time was not on my side. I need to move fast. Dogmeat had performed admirably to this point. No reason to risk him with the hell-storm of gunfire. Not when I'd be performing a hit-and-run. Not when, despite his continued determination, he looked like he was on fumes.

"Stay there", I commanded, pointing to a small collection of trees and rocks ahead of us.

Again, the dog followed the order without hesitation. As I turned east, he split off and ran to the chosen hiding spot.

If only everyone did that. Without the accompanying argument. When it comes to combat, at least.

It didn't take me long to circle around the fighting. It was one of the advantages of operating alone in an environment that allows for this much maneuverability. It's one of the reasons SPARTANs are so effective in covert roles. It's a lot easier to pop up out of, seemingly, nowhere and disappear without the added baggage of other people.

It's one of the reasons more experienced and better-prepared forces wouldn't engage in a fight like this. Not in an area they don't have sufficient numbers to safely occupy.

If I wanted to do nothing but cause damage, both sides would be in trouble. While I wasn't prepared like the hospital ambush, I'd have plenty of breathing room in the uncertainty of combat.

As it was, giving the fight a wide berth, I was behind the Raiders less than five minutes after leaving Dogmeat. The gunfire didn't slacken in that time.

One of the Vertibirds did retreat after one of its two-door gunners was shot out of their post. Another followed, probably as security. The other two adjusted, flying larger circles around the combat.

I slowed as I neared the Raiders' back line. Their positions weren't bad. Of those I could see, they were spread across a hundred-meter span of the countryside. They were using trees and small berms for both cover and concealment. There were three members of their assault force I spotted carrying large-caliber rifles. Two were laying down, weapons propped on bipods, focused on the ground forces. The last was the larger Raider from before. He was using his rifle to take shots at the Vertibirds whenever they moved closer.

For their part, the Brotherhood soldiers were lumbering between the trees. Their power armor was poorly suited for this type of combat.

They seemed to be making up for that with better tactics, coordinated movement, and concentrated fire. As I approached, I watched three Raiders go down to laser fire.

Despite operating on a clock, I settled behind a tree, 50 meters from the Raider's rear line, to study the fight.

The Brotherhood soldiers were implementing an odd, wedge formation for their approach. It was impossible to tell exactly how many there were, but I could see four groups advancing toward the Raiders. Each had a soldier in lead, the rest using them as moving cover. Not sure it was a great idea to group forces like that, but it minimized the damage taken by the non-lead units.

From gunfire.

A few well-placed explosives could do something about that… Wonder where the Raiders' charges from yesterday are.

Unconventional, and questionable, tactics aside, the power-armored soldiers were making steady progress. They still had ground to cover. It would happen though.

The Raiders might call a retreat soon if that's the case. I need to go.

My gaze switched from the fighting to the nearest Raiders. There were a half dozen taking cover from the fighting in a ditch at the base of a short rise. They would be completely hidden from the encroaching Brotherhood forces. I could see all of them from my position. Which was the one I wanted?

There was the woman I saw issuing orders to her platoon leader back at the houses. She wouldn't be the task force commander.

Two others were peering over the edge of the gulch toward the fighting. Not them.

One more was clearly on watch, eyes roaming the forest around them.

The last two were deep in conversation. One, a younger, dark-skinned raider with a shaved head turned to one of their observers. He shouted something I couldn't hear over the din of combat. After a few heartbeats, he turned back to the other. That one was older, probably older than Nate, with a thick gray and black beard and tied-back hair.

After the dark-skinned Raider spoke to him, the man nodded before turning to the woman. She shook her head and took a peak at the fighting.

That older man is my target.

They were all armed, but none carried a heavy weapon. The only one I need alive is the commander.

Once their watch's gaze left me, I slipped from behind the tree and started toward them. 50 meters to cross. With the moonlight shining down and very little canopy to block it, I needed to do this quickly. Every step in the loose dirt and occasional rock felt like it was pulling at my armored boots.

It didn't take a genius to tell that had very little to do with my footing.

Body, you're gonna need to wait. At least a little while longer.

Pushing the concern from my mind, I dropped to the ground as the man on watch turned in my direction again. 25 meters away. Even through the trees, at this range, I had pretty clean shots on all of them.

I glanced south. The Brotherhood was still advancing slowly toward the Raiders' lines. The third Vertibird had rejoined the others, circling and pouring fire into the forest below. I watched as a tree, and the Raider taking cover behind it, was turned into powder by concentrated minigun fire.

Running out of time. They'd begin a retreat soon. And as soon as I start shooting, more will be heading my way.

I turned back to the command group. Now was as good a time as any.

The Mk18's stock in my shoulder, I pushed myself into a crouch. My rifle's scope was centered on their watch. I pulled the trigger and it sent a 7.62mm round on its way.

While I didn't get to see the results of the first bullet, I saw the headless body collapse out of my periphery. That wasn't my focus. No, my focus was the two observers.

Before the first man's body had a chance to hit the ground, my reticle was on the closest observer. Another round was sent downrange and I switched to the other.

In a matter of seconds, half of the command contingent was dead. The rest were scrambling for cover.

It's that type of uncertainty and surprise I love exploiting.

My boots were pounding against the dried dirt an instant later. I raced forward and pulled the rifle's muzzle toward the woman's head. When I was a dozen meters away, she dropped to the ground in a spray of red mist, left side of her face missing.

By the time I was slowing to jump down into their cover, the dark-skinned man had joined the other bodies on the ground.

Slipping over the edge, I landed beside the commander. He had a handgun out, despite the rifle slung across his chest. That would be more maneuverable in tight quarters but it wouldn't do anything to m-

BANG!

I froze as the single shot's report was lost in the torrent of gunfire from the south. That just happened? Did he really just do that?

"Oh- what the fuck", I muttered under my breath as I stared down at the commander's body.

The bastard fired, but he wasn't aiming at me. He'd put the barrel under his chin and scattered his brain across the side of the gulch.

He killed himself instead of allowing his own capture.

A tiny part of me admired the resolution and pragmatism. He had to know this was a losing battle, and he knew his command group had just been assassinated. With no other forces to respond, his options were either die or be captured and interrogated. He chose to die.

It was the right call on his part.

A much larger part of me hated him for that. He'd taken the easy way out. He wasn't going to answer for what he and his people probably did to Vinny's. He-

I'm out here to get information, not exact revenge.

I can do both.

Well not anymore.

The man's gray matter glistened in my visor's night vision as I stared down at the dead body. Damn this bastard. There was so much information I still needed, so many things about the current state of the Raiders I didn't know. And now there was no reason for me to even be here. This asshole had just wasted a day of my time where I could have been doing anything else. Hell, I could have caught a few hours of sleep.

But no. That isn't what happened. I tracked his reinforcements across 20 klicks of the goddamn Commonwealth, lured his forces here, and started a fight so I could capture him.

And the jackass has the gall to blow his own brains out.

"FUCK!" I half hissed, half shouted and just stopped myself from kicking the body. This was supposed to be quick and easy. After the Raiders engaged the Brotherhood, they were distracted. They'd left their commander relatively unprotected. I'd gotten the opening I wanted, killed the rest of the command staff, and was two meters away from him.

Then he shot himself.

My grip tightened on the Mk18 and I whipped around to face the fighting. A few heads were turning toward me but most of the Raiders were still engaged.

If I killed the ones looking at me, the rest would be vulnerable. Between the Brotherhood and me, they'd be dead in minutes. It would-

Then what?

What?

What happens after the Raiders are eliminated?

Wha- I leave.

With the Brotherhood on my ass? With four Vertibirds in the area? No good cover anywhere nearby? Them already upset I escaped from them last night?

I blinked. Why the hell was I so upset about this?

Looking down at the body again, I took a deep breath.

Whatever's going on, I'm tired. I'm upset, I don't know why. I don't need another fight, I don't need to be chased by the Brotherhood. I need to leave and get some sleep. I can figure out what to do next after I'm not suffering from exhaustion.

Another deep breath.

Alright. I slipped back out of the gulch as faint shouts reached me from beneath the gunfire. They couldn't disengage though. The Brotherhood was pressing too hard. I glanced back just in time to watch one of the Raiders who turned to pursue get ripped apart by a burst from one of the door gunners.

It would be a lie to say I didn't find a sort of grim satisfaction seeing her flop to the ground, head and upper torso missing.

It would also be a lie to say I didn't feel a twinge of irritation I wasn't the one to pull the trigger.

Deal with it.

As I headed west, it felt like I was running away. I hadn't accomplished anything, not a goddamn thing besides getting a few Raiders killed. Not that it meant anything. Not with thousands of them 20 klicks away.

I almost slipped again, my right boot landing on a stone hidden by undergrowth. I braced myself against a tree to keep from falling and shook my head.

This was dumb. I felt alright, but that was probably the adrenaline I had going. As soon as that high wore off, I'd be in trouble.

But there's just so much about this conflict I don't know. I don't like not knowing about it. I don't like feeling as though moves are being made without my knowledge.

The fighting raged on behind me. With the laser rifles' more subdued report, I could tell the quantity of conventional weapons firing was decreasing. It wouldn't be long until the Brotherhood won that fight. They hadn't seen me, so assuming I'm long gone by the time the fight wraps up, they'll have no reason to look for me.

It's probably fair to say I took ONI's intelligence apparatus for granted. No matter the mission, it always seemed like they had the details on every target. Enemy force strength, armaments, fortification, if it was an assassination target, the HVT's location, and routines… everything. There's a reason everyone else thought of them as the boogieman.

A lot of it was bullshit.

A lot of it wasn't.

They were good at what they did. Very good.

Enough reminiscing.

The gunfire was fading behind me as I raced through a clearing. My legs were starting to feel leadened, even with my Mjolnir's reactive circuits assisting my movements.

Yeah. That's what I was doing. Reminiscing about ONI.

A few minutes later, I neared the rock outcropping I'd left Dogmeat at.

"Dogmeat", I called quietly. An instant later the large brown and black dog crept out of his hiding spot. It was good, a joint between two boulders that cast it in such deep shadow I didn't notice him until he started moving. Even with my NVS.

We still weren't far from the fighting. At the present rate of fire, it sounded like it would be over soon. We needed to move.

Starting southwest, I tried to remember where my nearest safehouse was.

I couldn't.

I couldn't remember where the nearest safehouse was.

My feet stopped.

How could I not remember where my own safehouses were?

Find somewhere secure. Sleep. I need sleep.

If fatigue was going to become a problem… I need to find some way to deal with it. I can't let it affect my performance. Not with how much is happening.

Handle the current exhaustion now. Worry about long-term fatigue later.

X

The clock in my HUD read 0325 when I ducked into the same barn I had Cass and Andrew wait in the night before.

Or the morning before.

Whichever it was.

I'd been up almost three days. That, on top of the accumulating lack of sleep, made it hard to think.

That was worrying.

Exhaustion is something I've dealt with plenty. Not being able to think clearly was entirely different.

It meant I wasn't as sharp as I needed to be to pick up a good tail. It meant, in a fight, I wouldn't be operating as well as I should. It meant I was allowing my physical abilities to suffer, something that was unacceptable. There are too many people relying on me.

As I slumped against a wall before dropping to the creaking wooden floor, I tried to run the last few hours through my head. What had I done wrong? How had I failed to capture that Raider commander? How had I allowed him to kill himself? The strategy, luring the Raiders into a fight with the Brotherhood had been a good one.

So what did I do-

Sleep. I'm in no condition to provide cogent tactical analysis of that fight.

But this is what I do. I'm supposed to be ready to fight, regardless of circumstance.

That's bullshit and I know it. No one, SPARTANs included, can operate with impunity. I need to stop doing this or I'm going to get myself, and a lot of other people, killed.

I leaned my head back against the wall. Dogmeat was laying beside me, curled up, muzzle resting on a hind leg. His stomach was rising and falling slowly in the rhythmic beat of sleep.

The damn German Shepherd was already out.

Slipping my helmet off, I pulled the almost-empty canteen from my bag and finished the rest of the cool, odd-tasting water. The farm would have more. I'd head there in the morning. Well, later in the morning.

The night air was, as usual, crisp. There was an undertone of rotting wood, but it was dry. The sounds of gunfire had died off about an hour ago. No doubt those Raiders were either dead or captured now.

Well done Damon. You got some Raiders killed. That's something to celebrate.

Despite that, I did have more information about the base than when I started. I had a course of action and a way to get more intel. It's about coordinating and carrying that plan out.

Effectively.

After taking a few more minutes to breathe unfiltered air, I donned my helmet again. I barely had time to settle against the wall again before I felt my exhaustion take hold. The world around me dimmed and my eyes drifted shut.

How are Nate and Brenda doing? How were the rest of the people at the school doing? The Brotherhood that close…

It was obvious they were trying to consolidate the surrounding settlements under their control before going to the school. Maxson is going to put a lot of pressure on them to prevent the leadership there from siding with us. What I've been saying, that people wouldn't like the Brotherhood's governance, isn't just because the more they control, the worse off the Minutemen are.

Despite what Brenda and Cass and Nate- hell, what everyone around me seems to think, I'm well aware of my actions' consequences. It's hard to not be considering how ONI used me.

Maybe it's different now that I take the time to consider it. Sort of.

Most of the Innies they sicced me on were dangerous. Some of them were just people who didn't want to fall under the UEG. For whatever reason, the UNSC and ONI deemed them hostile.

That being said… I don't know how many of those there were.

Point is, while the UEG wasn't the Brotherhood, the idea is the same. Coercing people into cooperating… It doesn't usually go well. Especially when you do it using physical force.

How am I supposed to show everyone I understand that?

Or… is that even what they're upset about?

Something jolted me awake. My eyes snapped open and I scrambled for my rifle-

… What?

The crumbling house I fell asleep in- it was gone. Or… I'd been moved.

What the hell is happening?

Dogmeat wasn't beside me anymore. I was sitting against the wall in a courtyard. Plants were everywhere; covering everything that wasn't a walkway, spilling over the upper levels-

The school. I'm back in the school. How the hell-

It was quiet. Not the normal version of quiet I've come to associate with a sleeping settlement in the Commonwealth. It was dead silent.

Every nerve in my body was buzzing. I don't think I've felt discomfort this strong since I was in training.

How I got to the school could wait. There was something very wrong here.

I scanned the courtyard as I climbed to my feet, careful to remain silent.

It felt like there was a thick layer of insulation over the school. Not only was it silent, but the air was still, stale, even through the filters in my helmet.

Nothin-

There was a noise. A soft… I don't know. It was coming from in front of me.

Creeping forward, I had my rifle up. Something told me I wouldn't need to worry about friendly fire here.

No movement in the plants, nothing on the walkways above, nothing on the roof. Even those all looked too still. Each leaf, fine, branch, flower, or fruit was motionless. They almost looked too sharp. That might have been the intensely bright moonlight streaming into the courtyard. Full moon.

My left boot contacted something. I looked down-

A handgun. Bulbous and bulky, It was the same model as my 10mm. No doubt one of the settlers'.

Problem is I'm 100% sure that hadn't been there.

Still nothing on either side of the walkway. I would have heard it land if someone had thrown it.

Even though the area was illuminated well enough, I activated my HUD's NVS. The low-light system washed everything in a vibrant glow.

Again, it seemed too sharp.

The buzzing in my arms and legs had turned into what felt like a continuous, low-amperage shock. It's uncomfortable tingling racing into my chest and stomach.

As I reached the far end of the courtyard, the noise resolved into barking.

Dogmeat?

It was coming from somewhere to my right, deeper into the school.

Clearing the hall to the left and right, I ducked inside. Keeping my armored boots silent against the concrete tile floor was difficult. That was made even more so by the lack of soft materials, like plants, to absorb the noise. Instead, it was just windows looking back into the courtyard, steel doors, lockers on the wall, and the concrete ceiling.

But that didn't seem to matter. The only thing I could hear was the barking. It was as if the world decided it wanted no other sounds to disrupt the night.

The air didn't change as I stalked down the hall toward the sound either. It was just as frozen as it had been in the courtyard.

Fear isn't something I've been well acquainted with for years at this point. Have I been nervous or even afraid? Yes. But fear- that's an emotion I don't deal with much.

'Fear' is the only word I could use to describe the clawing anxiety climbing through my stomach and gripping my chest.

The barking led me down an adjoining hall, classrooms on either side of it. Every door was closed, small window covered.

I hadn't seen any bodies, no signs of fighting, and the only sound I've heard- I could hear was the barking.

It didn't matter. Every instinct that had been honed over the last 15 years was screaming at me something had happened here.

And that fear had climbed its way into my throat.

Maybe the reason I hadn't felt it much is because I would have to care about something to feel fear. It doesn't take a genius to figure out why I was feeling it now: this is where I left Brenda. This is where I left Nate. If something happened here, and something had happened here, they would have been caught up in it.

They would have been caught up in something and I wasn't around to help. I would have been useless when people I care about needed help.

Again.

No. Not again. There are no bodies. No signs of fighting. Had they been captured? A large enough force could have done it. Had the Brotherhood decided to skip the diplomacy? If that was the case, I'd make sure they knew that was the biggest mistake they'd ever made. I'd make sure they know they fucked with the wrong person.

"Not again", I whispered as I peered down another hall. Empty.

Even that, though it was in my own helmet, had been almost silent.

The barking was loud now. It sounded like it was coming from the left side of the T-intersection ahead of me.

I slowed to almost a crawl. My entire body felt like it was being shocked. Everything was tingling and crawling. It was like someone had wired a powerline directly into my nervous system. I even felt my hands trembling around my rifle.

That doesn't happen. That never happens. No matter what is going on around me, fighting is what I do. Letting my nerves impact my competence-

Relax.

The word boomed through my head and I took a deep breath.

Forcing myself to stop won't help.

Just before rounding the corner, I stopped. The opposite side was clear. My night vision penetrated the almost entirely unlit blackness in the hall. I could see clearly down to the other end. It was empty.

Another deep breath. What was I about to find? Why am I back at the school? Where is everyone? Why has Dogmeat been barking this entire time?

Sitting here waiting won't answer any questions.

Another deep breath. I pulled my rifle to my shoulder, elbows tight to my side set up at the hallway's edge-

And pivoted around the corner.

It was definitely Dogmeat. The black and brown German Shepherd was standing in front of a door at the end of the empty hallway, head up, ears forward, letting out an almost deafening bark in the otherwise deafening silence. There was nothing else in this hallway either.

Dogmeat was intelligent. If he's focused on that door, there's a reason for it.

I didn't approach. Not yet. I stayed in the intersection, scanning for any signs of a trap. No tripwires. No broken or displaced floor tiles that could be hiding a pressure plate. No missing locker doors. No optical sensors.

Nothing.

And that had me even more nervous.

Standing there, watching Dogmeat wouldn't accomplish anything.

Still setting my feet down as carefully as I could, I continued looking for potential threats. This situation was too strange for there to be nothing besides the shepherd and an otherwise empty school. Why would he be barking at the door continuously for the last ten minutes? Why were we here instead of the house? How had a settlement of a few hundred people been abandoned with no signs of a fight?

Hell, there were no signs of the mayhem caused by an evacuation.

"Dogmeat", I hissed as I crept to the dog's side.

The current bark turned into a yelp and he skittered away.

I'm not the only one on edge.

After a moment, he recognized me and his eyes turned back to the door. He didn't resume barking, thankfully.

Without it, the school had gone completely silent. I didn't know if that was better or worse.

There was nothing unique about the door. It looked like the same steel door, with a small, covered window, that led to every other classroom. No signs of a trap here either.

Something was inside?

There were no external signs of a trap. That doesn't mean anything.

"Back", I said, pointing to the intersection. My voice seemed to have regained some of its volume.

This time, Dogmeat hesitated.

"Go." I continued pointing.

Another moment's hesitation passed before the large dog trudged away.

The window was covered from the inside so doing this subtly wasn't going to happen. Maybe a smarter move would have been to go outside and get in through a window. There was no guarantee that would be any safer. And the discomfort had grown from a clawing fear to physical trembling.

Time for subtlety had passed.

I stepped forward, pulled my right arm back, and launched an armored fist into the wire-reinforced tempered glass.

It exploded, sending small shards scattering, but half the wires held to the frame. I grabbed them, twisting, and ripped the remainder out-

What the hell?

The window wasn't covered.

It was just black. Even my NVS did nothing to penetrate the pitch darkness beyond the window.

Suddenly the clawing fear exploded. I don't know why, something about the blackness beyond that door- I had to get in there. Something was wrong. Someone- Nate, Brenda, Cass, Tommy, Julian, someone was in danger. I had to help.

I had to help.

With my mind spinning, anxiety and fear screaming through every part of my body, with my nerves on fire, I stepped away from the door before launching a straight kick at the latch. The steel screeched in protest so loud it felt like the world itself was screaming in protest. The sheet metal deformed beneath my boot like a can and the door exploded from its hinges into the inky darkness.

There was still nothing.

My breaths were coming in hard, painful gulps now. No matter how heavily I breathed, how deep I inhaled, it felt like I couldn't get any air. My arms and legs were trembling, my chest was so tight it felt like it was in a vice.

GO! GET IN THERE!

Get in where? What is this? What's going on? Where is everyone? How am I supposed to help?

THEY NEED YOU! GO!

WHO NEEDS ME!? WHERE IS EVERYONE!?

I'm missing something. Why can't I see into the room? Why-

Dogmeat sprinted past me and flung himself into the darkness. The instant he was past the threshold, he was gone.

He wouldn't do that without reason. There's something in there. Someone, or someones I need to help. Why can't I see? What's in there? What am I missing? What's wrong with me?

I stepped forward, body shaking so bad I couldn't hold my rifle. It hung, dangling on its sling.

There's something I need. Something I'm supposed to have. I want to- I want to go in there, I want to help whoever's in there. I need to help whoever's in there. I don't even know who it is, but I know that.

So why can't I see inside?

What am I doing wrong?

Stretching a shaking, gauntleted hand forward, I stopped, fingers a few millimeters from the threshold.

What happens if I touch this? What's on the other side?

After a moment's hesitation, I pressed my hand forward. It felt like I was trying to move a building. Millimeter by millimeter, my hand moved. My fingers touched the inky darkness.

Nothing.

Maybe I just need to go through. Maybe I just need to do what I know is right. Damn being afraid. Get in there and help.

Pressing my hand, my fingers slipped further-

WHOOF!

My world burst into a brilliant white. I snatched the MK18 from my lap and wrenched its muzzle up.

As my vision cleared, I saw a man in front of me. He was wearing a dirty black jacket that had a blood-soaked rag wrapped around his shoulder. He was turned away, arms wrapped around someone behind him. The man looked like he was shielding them. A woman was standing beside him, several large dressings, one on her arm and another on each leg.

I blinked.

Whoever the guy was shielding, he was shielding them from me.

"Please", I heard him whisper, so quiet it barely registered. "Please don't."

Where- I was back in the house. Dogmeat was standing next to me again, crouched low, ears flat against his head, teeth bared.

"We- we'll leave", our uninvited guest whispered. "We'll leave. We'll leave."

He kept repeating that, insistent, desperate.

Lowering my rifle, I let out a shaky breath.

It had been a dream. That might have been the most real dream I'd ever had. My hands were still trembling. I balled my right hand into a fist and pressed the gauntlet against my visor.

Just a dream.

Another deep breath and I looked up. They hadn't moved. Orange, early morning light poured through the variety of holes in the house, bathing the interior in its warm glow.

"Who are you?" I asked. My head was still swimming. I needed to re-establish some form of composure and that seemed like as good a question as any.

Silence.

They looked like refugees. The woman, who was facing me, was covered in dirt and dried blood. Her clothes were even more ragged-looking than she was. The damage was recent. Fresh cuts with unworn edges and tears with unfrayed loose strands. She was barely holding herself up on shaky legs, her eyes unfocused.

"I'm not going to hurt you", I continued and slowly stood, holding my still-trembling hands out to my sides. "Who are you?"

Depending on what happens next…

The man turned his head toward me as if his neck were made of granite. He had a large cut across his forehead over his huge, wild eyes. His rough, unkempt beard looked like it hadn't been cared for or cleaned for a while. The left side had blood caked into it.

"We'll leave", he repeated.

That doesn't answer my question. He wasn't a scavenger. The man's clothes were torn up too. Just like hers, it looked fresh. The grime on what I could see of his face was thick, but not caked on. He was holding his wounded right arm lower and closer to his body than his left and he was shaking too. It could be from fear, but I doubt it. The shaking was more violent than that.

"Were you attacked?"

He blinked, long and slow. Lethargic, poor motor control, that wound on his shoulder, wrap drenched in blood and now dried. It had been that way for a while now. If he hadn't removed and changed the makeshift bandage for long enough for that amount of blood to dry… He was dealing with a severe infection.

The woman looked the same.

I started forward, each step careful and slow. "If you-"

"Stay back!" the man shouted and yanked a knife from his waistband with his good hand.

Dogmeat released a deep, guttural bark and I could feel him coil behind me.

"Stop", I commanded, holding a hand, palm out, toward the German Shepherd.

Now he wasn't covering the person behind him, I could see it was a young boy, maybe in his early teens.

"You need help", I continued. "There's a settlement a few hours south of us. I can take you there."

"N- no. I- I can't." The man swayed on his feet. The knife he was holding, still pointed at me, was shaking so hard I doubt he could have done anything with it if he wanted to.

"How… do we know you- you won't hurt us too?" The woman said. Her speech was even more strained than the man's. Almost like it was a fight just to utter the sentence.

"I haven't yet." I pointed at the knife. "And if that's all you have, there's nothing to stop me from doing so."

Sweat tracks were starting to form in the filth on the man's face.

"Don't- don't come near us", she paused, blinking, and swallowed hard. "You can't-" I saw the signs before it happened. Her shaking legs began wobbling uncontrollably. She started blinking rapidly, and the gulps for air suggested she was having trouble breathing.

I was already moving forward.

The woman's neck tilted to the side, her eyes rolled up into her head and her legs began buckling. I reached her an instant before she collapsed.

She crumbled into my arms, limp.

"Dawn!"

"Mom!"

The two called out at the same time.

The man swung the knife at me as I lowered her to the floor. It hit my shoulder. The strike was so weak and so poorly aimed the clink it made as it glanced off the thick titanium plate was almost amusing

Or it would have been if I didn't have a woman, who I'm pretty certain was dying, in my arms.

"Get away-" the man started in a weak shout. Dogmeat, snarling violently, cut him off.

"STOP!" I barked again. Turning back, I saw the large dog stop just before he reached the shaking man.

The guy wouldn't have been a threat if healthy. He wasn't far behind this woman.

Turning back to the man, I saw him, arm raised, poised for another attempted strike. "You can't do anything with that. Put it away before you hurt yourself."

"Ge- get away from her", he insisted. "Get away!"

"So, what, she can die?" I looked down at the wound over her right thigh. Like the man, the dressing looked like a piece from an old bedsheet. It had been soaked in blood which had enough time to dry into a crusty, brown mess.

That wasn't the concern. The concern was the thick brownish-clear liquid seeping out from around the edges.

"She won't die", the kid said. "You leave her alone."

His voice sounded as scared as he looked. Wide-eyed, lips pressed so tightly together they were a thin white line. He looked relatively unmarred. Just scared.

I looked back at the wound. She'd lost a lot of blood. If that wasn't a problem on its own, the fluid seeping from it was a pretty clear indication she had a major infection.

"This wound is infected. Bad. If she doesn't get medical treatment she will die." Good chance she does even if a medic is able to see her. "I can get her to someone who might be able to help."

The man finally lowered his knife. "Who?" he asked. There was a hint of desperation in the empty, exhausted question.

"A settlement to the southeast." I pointed through the wall toward the farms.

"W- why would you do that?"

"Because you need it."

He hesitated, looking from me to the unconscious woman in my arms and back. Something new flared in his glassy, tired eyes. "Can they- Can you help her?"

"I don't know", I replied. I laid her on the worn, wooden floor and pulled my knife from its sheath. "I need to cut the dressing away", I continued before either of them could raise the alarm again.

The thing was thick, several layers tightly wrapped. I had to go slow to avoid cutting into her already damaged leg. Once enough was sliced through, I pulled the rest away-

And I didn't need to be a doctor, or even a field medic to know there would be no saving her.

Her wound had been a deep gash to the outside of her leg. With the dirty, blood-soaked rag, it attracted all manner of bacteria. It had gone from a deep cut to a gaping hole, bile pouring from the open sore. More than that, the skin around it that wasn't brown was bright red, a rash that ran up and down her leg.

Lifting the left side of her shirt, the rash continued up her torso.

This woman, Dawn, was going to die.

"Sepsis", I said, voice low, as I sat back on my heels. "It's reached her heart."

"Wh- what does that mean?" The man asked.

"Blood poisoning." I motioned to her wound. "A bacterial infection made its way into her bloodstream. This infection is bad enough I don't think she'd survive even if it hadn't."

Probably not the best thing to say but… what else was there to say.

I turned to the man. "Take your jacket off."

He blinked and the confused frown on his face said he didn't understand what I was asking.

"Jacket", I repeated. "Take it off. Now."

"… My jacket? Why do you w- want me to take my jacket off?"

"If your wound is septic, and the infection reaches your heart, you're going to look like this soon." I pointed at Dawn. "You die if that happens." Even if it didn't, his infection is bad enough it's affecting his mental state. Considering the wound on his shoulder is probably as old as the one on the woman's leg, he's a dead man walking too. The only difference is, if it didn't get into his bloodstream, it'll take longer for his body to realize it.

"My mom isn't going to die!" the kid shouted. He rushed over and knelt next to her. "You don't know her! She said she'd always be here. She's never broken a promise." Tears were running down his face. "Right mom?" He placed a hand on her shoulder and shook gently. "Right?"

Her breathing was coming fast and shallow. It's possible the smell is what had Dogmeat agitated. I couldn't smell anything, and I've never actually smelled an infection like this before.

It didn't take a stretch of the imagination to guess it wasn't a good one.

There was nothing I could say to console him. His mom was going to die.

… His mom was going to die.

I blinked, looking down at the kid. He kept shaking her shoulder, whispering "right?" over and over.

If she survived long enough, would getting her to the farms help? Did the Railroad have medical technology that could deal with an infection like this?

Sepsis is one of the most dangerous forms of infection. The mortality rate of an infection this severe was high, even with treatment, even in UNSC space.

Trying to get her to the farms, still a few hours away walking, maybe an hour running, would put the other two in danger.

But this was his mom. Watching her die, laying on the floor of a crumbling house…

One step at a time. Evaluate.

I turned to the man once again. He was still staring at Dawn.

"Take your jacket off."

After a moment's hesitation, he finally did.

With a significant amount of difficulty, including working it over his blood-crusted dressing, he pulled the fatter jacket off. Beneath it was an equally destroyed shirt, covered in tears and dirt.

"Lift your shirt."

He stared at me, still wearing the same confused frown, but did so.

There was no rash crawling its way toward his chest.

Standing, I beckoned him over. "I need to remove your dressing."

The man shrunk away, clutching at his shoulder.

My first response was to be irritated, but it wasn't like I could blame him for being afraid.

"You can do it yourself. It needs to come off. Even if you don't have Sepsis, the wound is infected."

He looked from me down to Dawn. His eyes were distant and unfocused. As he watched the kid knelt next to his mother, they started welling up with tears too.

"We- we just- we-" he stammered. "She wasn't feeling good so we came in here- she just wasn't feeling good."

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do. It would be nice to have Cass here. Or Brenda. Or Nate. Or pretty much anyone else.

Walk through this step by step. I might not make them feel good about what's happening. That isn't my current concern. There's nothing I can do for Dawn. I need to determine the extent of this guy's infection and see if it's treatable.

What would one of them do? Try to gain their cooperation? How?

"My name is Damon", I said slowly. "I'm with the Minutemen. Like I said, there's a settlement to the southwest. I can get you there for treatment. I need to know how far your infection has progressed."

"The… Minutemen? I thought they were gone."

"No." I shook my head. "We'll help if we can but I need to know how bad your wound is."

His now glassy gaze roamed over me for a few seconds before the man cleared his throat. "What are you?"

What does that have to do with anything? "It doesn't matter. Either take the dressing off your shoulder or I'm going to do it."

"What about Dawn?"

Both of us looked back down at the unconscious woman. There was nothing I could do for her- nothing anyone I have access to could do for her. The only people who might be able to help is the Institute. I don't see them teleporting her to their facilities for med-evac.

"Sepsis is almost always fatal once it reaches the heart." Not technically true, but for all intents it was the case here.

The man stayed quiet. The tears carving tracks in the dirt and grease on his face were the only indication of his sorrow. The rest of his expression was empty, as if the life had already been pulled from his body. Even if it didn't have immediate ramifications, I couldn't help but wonder what happened to them. They were from a settlement, that was a safe guess. In this area, odds are it was a settlement hit by Raiders. Supermutants would have been an option closer to the city. Not out here.

After another minute of silence that felt like an hour, the man slumped to the ground and started pulling at his dressing. He wasn't doing a very good job of removing it.

I stepped forward again and this time the guy didn't object.

Kneeling at his side, I moved his hand away before cutting at the blood-encrusted fabric.

By some miracle, the injury wasn't that bad. It had been a gunshot wound that passed through the muscle just outside of his Humerus. No structural damage. His symptoms were that of an advanced infection, but the wound had scabbed over and looked relatively clean. The scab was small and hard, no leakage, no red skin, no boils or cysts. There was nothing to suggest he had any infection, at least from this wound.

One other medical condition that might be applicable here came to mind.

"How long have you been awake?" I asked.

He blinked as though, if he waited long enough, that question would make sense.

Before I could repeat it, the man shook his head. "I- uh- it's been- I don't remember. I've only slept five times since the attack."

"When was that?"

He shrugged, then groaned in pain and grabbed for his shoulder. "It must be… two weeks, I think. Maybe?" He frowned, confused. "It's hard to remember anything anymore."

Two weeks. I had a strip of gauze, but I don't think he needed it. If he'd had that wound for two weeks, it would have healed enough on its own.

"Raiders?" I asked, standing.

"Who attacked us?" I nodded. "Yeah…" The man's gaze drifted back down to Dawn. "They came after us, I- I don't know why. There were so many…"

It was becoming more and more clear: whoever was in charge of the Raiders here wanted to suppress any potential hostile entities in the region. They knew they needed to fight the Brotherhood. Having another group, like Minutemen, hostile toward them at the same time would be crippling.

Their approach was less… diplomatic than Maxson's.

My options here were simple. I could either leave these three on their own, to die, or I could bring them with me back to the farms. They'd slow me down by hours. I need to get back there, and probably Sanctuary, to inform them what's happening. They know some, but not the extent to which the Raiders were expanding. We need reconnaissance teams up north to monitor the situation.

In circumstances like these, a few hours could be the difference between a settlement being caught off guard and overrun, or not.

There's always the radio…

I fished the small, short-range radio out of my satchel. If I wasn't in comms range of the farm, I was damn close. Even if the Raiders have the equipment to intercept the signal, it wouldn't matter. They can't increase the rate of their attacks without risk of opening themselves up to intrusion by the Brotherhood.

Leaving these people here to die… no. That's something I couldn't justify. Not unless they posed a serious added risk.

"Stay here", I said as I slipped the radio back into its pouch. "I need to contact the Minutemen. I'll be back soon."

"... Are you… gonna get help for my mom?" the kid asked. It was the first thing he'd said in a while.

"N-" I stopped myself before I could say 'no'. I already told him she was going to die.

An image of my mother flashed through my head, standing at a window, firing at the onslaught of Covenant forces. Another, this time her taking me to our town's large market with a few other parents and their kids.

She was smiling.

"Our best option is to get to that settlement. I'm going to brief them on the Raiders' actions, then we'll go." I looked at the man. "Get some sleep while I'm gone." It wouldn't be long, but he needed something.

"Stay here", I told Dogmeat. He cocked his head to the side. I still wasn't sure he understood every command I gave him. The German Shepherd had listened thus far.

A few seconds later, the dog padded over to the corner and sat, eyes fixed on the three newcomers.

Neither of them was in any condition to harm the dog. Hell, they could barely stand. He'd be fine.

I started toward the door. "No noise. I'll knock three times before I enter."

The man's head was already lolling back against the wall when I left.

Orange light spilled across the Commonwealth as I exited the house. The early morning sun was just detaching itself from the eastern horizon.

With it at my back, I headed southeast toward the farms. I couldn't have been more than 15 klicks out. Close to radio range.

As I reached the treeline, I felt my hands trembling. Why? Had they been doing that this entire time?

That… dream. I held my hands out in front of me. Sure enough, they were shaking ever so slightly in my gauntlets.

Whatever it had been it- it hadn't felt real, but I couldn't tell at the time. I could still feel the echoes of that creeping fear and anxiety. It had been lost in the adrenaline but it wasn't gone.

What did any of that mean? The school, it being empty, the handgun, Dogmeat, the dark classroom. Does it mean anything? Was it just a weird dream?

If it was, why do I remember it so vividly? I've had plenty of dreams, none that I can recall with that level of detail. None that had such a continuous scene. None with such strong emotion.

None that carried those emotions over.

I doubt it's something I'm going to figure out standing here staring at my hands. Focus on the task at hand.

Right…

Taking a long, deep breath, I relaxed my arms. My hands still felt strange, but they stopped shaking.

It didn't take long, filtering through trees and skirting the frequent, large clearings before I was able to get a clear signal. I wedged myself between a tree and a large rock, careful to keep my eyes on the sky.

"Damon?" the person on the other end asked. They sounded young. "Gimme one sec, I'll get someone for ya."

30 seconds later, a new voice came across the radio. "Hey Damon", Abraham said. "Gotta make this quick, we're doin prep-work. A lot more folks came in from further north. Raiders might be headin' this way."

"They aren't", I replied. "They're engaged with the Brotherhood to the east. Whoever's in charge, I think his name is 'Castle', is trying to establish a power base. We need recon teams up there. Is anyone from the QRT available?"

"Hold on. You're sayin' they aren't gonna come after us when they been attacking damn near anything with four walls?"

"Affirmative. They lost an assault force last night. The Brotherhood has been more aggressive than I thought they'd be. They're fighting the Raiders for control."

A moment of silence came across the radio before the elder Finch responded. "How sure are you about this?"

"Enough I know getting teams in the field is the most important thing we can do. I'll be back in a few hours. I need to meet with whatever QRT elements we have and coordinate a mission."

"You'll have to get with Preston about that."

"I know", I said. "If you have someone going to Sanctuary today, pass the message on."

Another pause. "Alright, I'll let em know. We're still gonna keep preppin' for an attack."

No shit. "I'm not telling you to stop. I'll contact you when I'm close. Out here."

I switched the radio off and stowed it. Another 15 minutes back to the house, then it was a matter of how long before I could get my three new tagalongs moving. Well, two. No way of knowing how long Dawn would survive. She was unconscious, probably in septic shock. Her blood pressure was low enough to starve her brain of oxygen and her kidneys had likely already shut down.

Skirting the opposite side of a large clearing from my path out, I couldn't decide how I wanted to handle this. It was easy enough for me to say she was going to die. It was the truth, after all. If we were going to get back to the farm in a timely manner, we had to leave her.

But… it was the kid's mom. How could I tell him to leave her? Would I be able to do that? Hell, I've been trying to make up for something I had no control over 15 years ago.

It didn't seem right.

All the same, we needed to leave.

I don't know. I could carry her, which would compromise my ability to respond to an attack. And I'd be carrying her to the farms just so she could be buried there.

It wouldn't be the first time… I'd carried Nora across the Commonwealth so Nate could say 'goodbye'. Problem is the Raiders and Brotherhood have a far more aggressive disposition now.

The information I had told me leaving her here was the correct decision; it got us to the farms sooner and minimized the risk. That gives the Minutemen more time to get teams into the field and prepare for whatever the Raiders planned to throw at the settlements.

As the house drew into view, I paused. I know full well I should be more sympathetic to the kid than I am. Does that supersede my responsibility to defend the other Minutemen?

One kid's feelings, or the lives we may lose if I'm delayed.

Dawn was going to die. It didn't matter how far I carried her.

My feet carried me toward the house. I knocked three times before ducking inside. The kid was still sitting by his mother's side, the guy was asleep, and Dogmeat was now laying in the corner, watching me as I entered.

So much for knocking.

Even if I decided leaving Dawn was our best option, giving the guy another hour of sleep would be a good idea. He was ready to drop when he walked in.

Making my way over to Dogmeat, I sat beside the German Shepherd and pulled the 10mm from my hip. It hadn't seen much action but I might as well clean it. Not much else to do for the next hour. Same for the Mk18.

I unloaded both firearms and placed them on the floor in front of me. As I started taking the handgun apart, the kid finally looked up from his dying mother. There was nothing besides a blank stare. I've seen that look before. I've had it before.

"Did you call for help?" he asked, a voice as empty as his eyes.

"The settlement we're going to is preparing for an attack."

He frowned. "So… they aren't coming?"

"No." I shook my head and pulled a small rag from my satchel to set the slide on. "We're leaving in an hour."

"What about my mom?" the kid asked. The question had an edge of desperation. "You said some kind of infection reached her heart. We need to get her help!"

My hand hovered over the slide for a second after placing it on the rag. Dawn's chest was rising and falling quickly as she took short, shallow breaths. Her shirt was drenched in sweat, along with her face and hair. If I checked her heart rate, it would be through the roof and her blood pressure would be dangerously low.

He was still holding onto some hope she could be saved. I didn't know what was worse: taking that from him or letting him continue thinking she might survive. "Another hour won't make a difference."

"Do- do you mean she's going to die even if we go now?"

… Dammit. Saying that earlier is going to make this harder. I don't know what I'm supposed to say now. I'm not going to lie to the kid. Telling him the truth doesn't seem much better.

But what do I say now?

As I laid the handgun's receiver on the rag, the kid turned back to his mom.

"She hasn't said anything since you left", he continued "She isn't waking up." When he looked at me this time, his face wasn't blank anymore.

I wish it was.

His eyes were welling up with tears. His lower lip was trembling. His breath hitched and he inhaled hard.

"Is my mom going to die?" he choked out.

It's a question he had the answer to. He was asking, looking for a different one.

Because he's a kid, about to watch his mom die.

Fucking Raiders. The first hour I was in this goddamn wasteland, I killed a dozen of them.

Now I'm regretting that number wasn't higher.

Out of the four months I've been here, I haven't interacted with them much. Between Concord, Sanctuary, their base, and now their assaults on the settlements, I found myself wishing I'd had more opportunities. Well, now they're firmly at the center of my attention along with the Brotherhood and Institute.

The number of interactions I have with them is going to increase.

"Yes", I said quietly.

There was nothing but silence. The kid stared at me, glassy eyes foggy and unfocused. When Julian and I had a similar moment back on the Prydwen, I told him everything would be okay. Then I let him be taken a few days later. I couldn't tell this kid that. I didn't know what would happen.

But I do know I can hurt the Raiders.

And I plan on doing that.

"Oh", he finally whispered.

The silence lasted another heartbeat.

Then it broke. He broke.

The kid collapsed over his mom and the crying began. His shoulders were shaking with the force of his sobs. The hurt in his weeping was so deep, it couldn't have been just my confirming what he probably already knew. It felt closer to when Cass had broken down: things had built up and now there was no holding it back. Whatever that was culminated with this: knowing his mother was going to die.

I resumed cleaning my weapons. I didn't know what else to do. What was I supposed to say? These are how I handle difficult situations.

The crying pushed on into the morning. It quieted after the five-minute mark but persisted.

After 10 minutes, Dogmeat got to his feet and cautiously picked his way toward the mourning kid. The dog lay down next to him, sniffing at Dawn.

The orange light faded to dull yellow by the time the hour passed. All three of my firearms were clean. The kid had gone quiet a few minutes after Dogmeat laid beside him. He fell asleep not much later. Dawn's breathing had grown more shallow as the morning dragged on. The rise and fall of her chest was barely noticeable. Each breath was strained.

She didn't have long.

Standing, I marched to the kid. Dogmeat looked up at me before he started sniffing Dawn again. He let out a low whine.

I knelt and placed a hand on the young boy's shoulder. He woke with a start, head turning around the room frantically. His eyes were still wet.

"O- oh", he muttered, voice thick with sleep. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Yes."

His eyes turned back to his dying mother. The boy was silent for a few seconds as he closed his hands around one of hers.

"Why?"

The question hung in the quiet morning air. Pragmatically, the answer was simple enough: the Raiders were trying to establish control. His settlement just happened to be attacked. His mom was caught in the fighting. Because of that, she was going to die. Odds are she wasn't the only one who died during or because of the attack.

Not that answering his question like that would help.

"What's your name?" I asked.

"Cole", the kid said without looking up.

"I'll make sure the Raiders pay for this."

His breath hitched for an instant again before he cleared his throat. "Why?" he asked. His voice had returned to the haunting emptiness it had earlier. "Doesn't matter what you do to them. My mom's still gonna die."

With that, Cole laid down beside his mother, pulling himself as close to her as he could. He closed his eyes and began quietly weeping again.

Something shifted behind me and I turned to see the man pushing himself away from the wall. His eyes were clearer.

I stood and stepped away from the two of them.

"How is she?" he asked quietly.

"It won't be much longer. I'll still take you and your son to the settlement."

He blinked slowly. "... Son? Oh-" the man's mouth froze in the shape of an 'O' before he shook his head. "Cole isn't my son."

It was my turn to pause. That hadn't been expected.

"After the attack… a bunch of us were separated", he continued. "That's why we've been wandering around. We were looking for the other survivors." The man looked down at them. "We were hoping to find Jackson. I'm just a friend. I've been living with them for a little over a year now."

"Oh."

A small smile slipped across his face. "Sorry. Guess I wasn't thinking about that."

As we spoke, Cole's crying stopped and he looked up. His face was tear-stained, tracks carved through the dirt and grime.

We needed to get going. There's a lot I need to do and not a lot of time to do it. Dawn doesn't have long but I don't know how long 'not long' is.

The logical solution would be to euthanize her. She wasn't going to recover.

But I hated myself for thinking that. I hated myself even more for not being repulsed by the thought. It was an observation, nothing more. Instead of being disgusted, my mind offered up the cleanest, least painful way to do it. A method I've used to kill people silently in countless situations: a stab through the underside of the jaw into the brainstem. Almost instant. The brain shuts down before it has a chance to register pain.

The image of Cole staring up at me, him holding onto his dying mom, crying… I should be upset I even considered it.

Why wasn't I?

"Damon?" the boy asked. "Are you sure there's nothing you can do for my mom?"

I shook my head slowly. "I'm sorry."

"Is she hurting?"

"She's unconscious but… I don't know."

Cole nodded and stood. "I- I don't-" his voice caught in his throat and tears started streaming down his face again. The house was silent for several seconds as he choked down a few breaths.

"I don't want her to suffer." He rubbed his dirt-covered face. "... Why?" he said, coughing. "Why did this happen to her?"

The man started toward him, eyes shimmering with tears.

"What did she do?" Cole asked as the guy wrapped him in a hug.

"She didn't do anything Cole", he said. His voice was almost as choked as the boy's. "Your mom is the best."

They stood there, holding each other. This was someone they both cared about. Someone important to both of them.

And I'm about to kill her. Even if she's going to die anyway.

This is better than dragging it out. It's the only thing I can do for any of them.

Eventually, the man turned to me, still holding Cole, and offered a single, solemn nod.

It should bother me they're so quick to ask me- to trust me to do something like this.

It should bother me I'm not hesitant about doing it.

"C'mon Cole", he said, "let's get some fresh air."

The boy pulled away from him-

But he wasn't angry. He knelt over his mom, hugged her, and whispered, "I love you, Mom", in a voice so thick it was almost unintelligible. With that, he bolted from the house, tears streaming down his face.

The man followed him, carefully avoiding my gaze, and left me alone with the dying woman.

I looked back down at her prone form. Her breathing was labored, she was drenched in sweat and, even through the grime, was incredibly pale.

Marching over, I knelt beside her, the wood floor's groan unnaturally loud as I did.

Just like in my dream, everything seemed too sharp, almost surreal. The beads of sweat dragging tracks through the dirt on her face looked like they'd been drawn with a straight edge. The creases at the edge of her eyes and around her mouth, probably from smiling, stood in sharp relief against her skin. The last few weeks of moving without proper nutrition left her cheekbones severe and her jaw proud.

Even in her condition, she looked like she had a kind face.

Maybe that was just me projecting. From what little I know, she seemed like it.

Like in the dream, the air in the house was still. It was as if it were trying to insulate us. No noise came through the blanket that had draped itself over the room.

Dogmeat walked up beside me and sniffed at Dawn. He whined softly. It almost sounded like a cry.

Dawn. This woman I'm about to kill, her name is Dawn. She wasn't the first person I've killed whose name I know. It felt like that though.

Strange part is I don't actually know her.

Then, a pang of something speared through my chest. I've felt regret before. This wasn't that. It wasn't only that. I'm not sure what the concoction of emotions was, but it wasn't pleasant.

"I'm sorry", I said as I reached under my arm to pull my knife from its sheath. "Your son is safe. I'll get him to the Minutemen. Once he's there, nothing will happen to him."

"I promise."

A/N: Ah yes, another double entendres chapter title. And another dream sequence. Because that trope isn't played out enough, is it? Well worry not, I have a very explicit intent in mind for this and, if you pay attention as the story progresses, you'll notice the dreams don't actually tell you (or Damon) anything new (there's a lot of symbolism built into them, but the setting/events are kept very simple). Also, I'd like to give a shoutout to my beta, VixenRose1996. She doesn't know much about Halo, but she's taken on the task of editing A Hero's Story for a year and a half now. Her stories tend to be more popular than this so it's likely you've heard of them, but all the same give her profile a look. We have very different writing styles and the stories she writes are fantastic. Now next chapter may be delayed... I have to go down to Texas for a wedding, then turn around and fly back because family will be in town that weekend. I will do my best to be around to post but I can't promise anything. That's all for this time, I'll see everyone in the next chapter!

Next chapter: 5/26 (maybe), Intelligence