AN: So it's time for an update on how this story's going. I've got two more chapters prewritten after this one, which would be great, except that progress has slowed to a crawl since I got into law school. I also have 3.5/7 shorter chapters finished of a miniseries. I'm still debating whether to include it in this book or leave it as a standalone - it's related to and affects the main storyline, but it's a hard swerve from the current plot. (Since the book's structure is already atrocious I may just leave it in. I'm seriously not offended if you decide to skip chapters that don't sound interesting.)
Last, the entire timeline kind of exploded with Fallout season one, and as it stands I can theoretically make everything work without retconning anything, except that they'll probably solidify the dates of some events next season. My future plans will have to adjust too, which will be hard to do without knowing what happens in season two. So I might focus on Beneath the Commonwealth while we wait for s2 to come out... but then again, it takes me so long to write that I may not even have the miniseries completed before then. So the long and short is, regular updates will dry up in a few months.
Blood in the Water
Synopsis: The Lone Wanderer must protect her home from an invisible threat as tensions in the Capital Wasteland grow. (T)
The Capital Wasteland, December 2283.
Hope finds a way.
Six years had thrown everything they'd got at Knight Aniss Catherine Lawrence. Blood, sweat, the strongest loyalty and the cruelest betrayal. Sweet freedom and white-hot vengeance. She'd built, she'd broken, she'd stumbled along the way. Braved the darkest dungeons, leveled armies, watched humanity spring from the scorched earth.
Of course, like any young plant, humanity often needed a bit of pruning.
Thunder cracked outside, somehow more ominous to Aniss's ears than the bullets whizzing past her helmet. Those were old news, but the sky was something she'd never been able to get over. Its vast expanse would still be there when she finished up with these cultists, so she focused on the more pressing matter.
Charon crouched to reload, and she moved like clockwork to lay cover fire. They didn't need words anymore, not for the simple things. He stood, and she left the close-quarters combat to him while the Pip-Boy's superior nightvision helped her pick off the snipers on the balcony. This warehouse was the perfect gang hideout, but organized crime had a lot more trouble taking root in the Capital these days. The community staying here had been a fairly benign religious movement until their seers started hearing messages of human sacrifice. It smelled suspiciously like a faction of Ug-Qualtoth's boys, but wanting nothing to do with that, Aniss didn't ask any questions.
The hostiles were down. Not much posed a challenge for the two these days. The only markers on the Pip-Boy radar were a handful of green dots in the center of the high-ceilinged room. The mystery explained itself as she got closer. The captives were stowed in a freshly excavated pit in the floor, overlaid with iron bars. One of the cultists was flopped over backwards onto the pit, one arm hanging down through the metalwork. A man tugged at it, hoping to upset the rifle laying across his chest. The captives startled when Aniss's light hit them.
Seven men and women, no visible injury. Fewer than had been reported missing, but from the smell of things, that dark-stained cinderblock altar had been used recently. Aniss compartmentalized that.
"Brotherhood," she introduced herself. "Any injured?"
"No," said the spokesman who'd been tugging on the arm. "None that can be helped now."
Aniss nodded and picked the trapdoor lock. Charon paced the room, looking for supplies to distribute. The roads were safe enough these days for them to get home by themselves, so there would be no need to babysit after this.
The captives crawled to the surface, and Aniss took inventory. She recognized the spokesman in the black leather jacket as Brock. He'd originally been assigned to investigate these guys, and Aniss and Charon had been called in when he'd failed to return.
Well, Aniss had been called. The Brotherhood preferred not to think of Charon as a separate entity.
He'd been a knight, once. It was just easier to give him clearance, if Aniss was going to insist on taking him along on missions. The rest of the Lyons Pride had been hesitant, but Sarah voiced her full confidence, and he soon proved himself beyond the team's satisfaction. The conga line of elders after Sarah's death, however, had proven harder to convince. Eventually, Charon had received an honorable discharge, ostensibly because the contract prevented him from proper devotion to the Codex. He never breathed a word of opinion about any of this, so Aniss restricted her protests to private seething.
And why, after six years of unquestionable results, was Aniss still a knight? A litany of excuses just as flimsy. Too green, untested, unorthodox, too much of a wanderer, unproven as a leader. She knew the real reasons: She hung out with ghouls and supermutants, her moral compass was her own, and she had influence. She'd be a threat to any elder, and the Brotherhood wanted Arthur Maxson at their helm. She'd laughed out loud when she heard that the Western clerics had called for the sixteen-year-old's promotion, but it was real.
As if Aniss had never fought a super mutant. As if Aniss's parents hadn't done great things.
It was clear that the tides were turning, had been for a long time. It grew as the supermutant threat decreased in the south, and the synth threat increased in the north. Three Dog was off-air for the time being, having spoken too many a harsh word toward the Brotherhood. Aniss still visited him; Dogmeat had permanently retired into his care, and she missed her boy often. When it became unsafe for Fawkes to be seen in public, he retreated to Oasis, where he now spent his days reading boring philosophy to Harold. Even Star Paladin Cross, the Brotherhood's most loyal soldier, had been accused of being compromised when some initiates couldn't tell the difference between a synth and a cyborg. Cross, who missed the Lyons Brotherhood, had disappeared to greener pastures as well. It had all happened too quickly for Aniss to follow, but she guessed Cross had gone to the Midwestern Brotherhood, or even farther than that.
Charon was the one constant in her life. A constant help, a constant annoyance, but above all, constant. He was never warm, but always trustworthy, once she'd figured out how he worked. And it had taken some time to realize it, but he was a good man. He stuck to his moral code, warped as it was by years of hardship. She liked to think she'd made him a tiny bit more idealistic. He'd certainly had the opposite effect on her.
She loved him and his unpredictable emotional state, his menacing appearance, his terrible social skills. He had to bear her flaws more than she had to bear his, after all. It wasn't fair, their arrangement, but its injustice wasn't Aniss's fault, and over time they'd come to an understanding. She tried to keep the bossiness to a minimum, and let him air his resentment lest it fester. His trust was a hard-won prize.
"Good job in there," she said as they left the warehouse.
"Mm," he responded. Apparently it was going to be one of those resentful days. She worked hard not to take these things personally.
"Should we stop by Megaton before returning to the Citadel, or...?"
"If you wish it." He wasn't looking at her, apparently scanning the landscape for anything out-of-place.
This wasn't the normal moody patch. "What's on your mind?"
He stopped short, removed his helmet, and looked at the sky. Storm clouds were lightening and rolling away. "Something is wrong."
Thunder murmured in the silence. "Something like what?"
Charon removed a glove and swiped his hand over the top of a trash can. Beads of rain danced and pooled together at his touch. He shook them off. "Like radiation. It's subtle. It is wrong."
"Pip-Boy's not picking up anything."
"Hm," he growled. "Tomorrow will take thought for the things of itself."
Aniss laughed, surprised to hear the quote. "Very wise. Keep me posted."
"I will."
Charon stayed twitchy on the walk back. He didn't provide any concrete information, but he asked her to check radiation levels in various places along the way. The readings were as low as they had been since Project Purity, but whatever he was feeling didn't go away.
The roads were quiet aside from a few mirelurks and ferals. They were always quiet these days. Troublemakers knew by now to bring their business elsewhere. Trade and long-distance communication had improved, which in turn brought about agriculture, literacy, and, occasionally, conflict (which meant the Lone Wanderer's services were always in demand).
Springvale residents poked their heads out in greeting as they passed through, disappearing quickly back inside. This town was jumpier than most; many of its residents were former slaves or Megaton castaways, and they would have been more comfortable with a wall around them. Further back lay Vault 101, which Aniss didn't spare a glance. Bad blood, old and new.
They approached the Megaton gate as they had a thousand times before. It didn't open for them.
"This is awkward to say, fellas," Stockholm called down to them, "but I can't let Charon in. Not my idea."
"Excuse me?" Aniss snapped back. "You've got ten seconds to give me a good excuse for that."
"I would if I knew what was going on — but believe me, buddy, Megaton's not where you want to be right now."
Ominous. Bad. Aniss turned slowly to her employee, who had no visible reaction behind his helmet. If he had been tense before, this couldn't be helping.
"I will wait here for you, if you ask it," he said calmly.
"Stay put, then, I guess." She was reluctant to leave him in this strange atmosphere. "I'll be back once I figure out the problem."
"Then this is where I will remain." He acknowledged her as usual, but she could tell that he wanted the mystery solved too.
As the gate opened, she grabbed his forearm, muttering one last order. "Don't let anyone push you around."
She went unaccosted as she stopped by the house to switch out equipment, but coming out, she noticed a commotion down by the saloon. Aniss may not have been a mathematician, but she could put two and two together.
The crowd was the anxious sort, an anxiety that could easily give way to violence. They stilled a bit as they noticed the armored knight approach.
"What's going on?" one woman pleaded as the crowd parted for Aniss. "What's happening?"
Aniss pushed her way to the bar's front door, where the crowd was tightest. She held her helmet under one arm, hiding neither her identity nor the severe expression on her face. Lucas was in the thick of the crowd, just as severe, with Harden mimicking him at his side. The angrier members of the burgeoning mob were in the center too, along with Confessor Cromwell, who ignored Aniss's arrival in order to take advantage of the freshly-fallen silence.
"Friends — the day is now arriving, that glorious day when the light of Atom desceeends upon mankind! Run, fight, or take shelter, if you must, but the chosen will bask in his glow!"
Aniss sidestepped him, evicting his hand from her pauldron. "In plainer English?"
She was practically bodied by a townsperson she didn't know, eager to impress her with the gravity of the situation. "It's those ghouls! They've done something — something to the town, it's spreading, it's —"
Aniss grabbed his shoulders and shook him once, his feet dangling a few inches off the ground. "What is spreading?" A chorus of voices answered her, but she turned to Sheriff Simms to get the full story.
"Look, Wanderer, we don't know what's caused it, but somehow the people in town are being flash-ghoulified. No warning signs; they just woke up with half their skin missing." He leaned closer, away from the crush of the crowd, the brim of his hat almost brushing the side of her head. "People are scared, Aniss."
"Who's it hit?" she half-whispered back.
"Moira, Walter, the Hodges lady," Harden chimed in helpfully from his father's side. "I think we heard Osi McClein, but he hasn't left his house yet, so it could be a rumor."
"If there's any pattern, we haven't found it yet," said Lucas.
"Blast," she muttered. Even Moira. "And they're all still sentient?"
"So far."
Alarmed and frustrated, she raised her voice over the crowd. "And you people think Gob singlehandedly did this?"
"Either he did it or it's coming from him!" shouted the tall man from earlier, still too close. She considered punching him, but decided the ensuing violence wouldn't be worth it.
"There's no evidence of that," Simms corrected him.
"Walter was at the bar last night," said the wall behind her. It was Jericho, observing with detached amusement.
"That doesn't prove anything!" Harden called sternly. He was only sixteen, but he was "officially" a deputy, and the town more-or-less respected that.
Jericho laughed. "Hey, prove me wrong as soon as you can. I need the bar to open — got a hangover."
There were moments when Aniss saw the finer points of Mr. Burke's argument. "Okay, that is enough." She elbowed her way through the crowd and around the building. "Open up," she called through the side door, glaring daggers behind her to prevent any more visitors from dropping in. "It's just me."
Within the moment, Nova had unlocked the door, hauled her inside, and slammed it again. "Hiya. Glad you're back." She was uncharacteristically untidy, but seemed calm enough.
"Not for long. Looks like I've got work to do."
"How are you supposed to stop this?"
"Same as always. Find a lead and follow it." She looked at the ceiling. "It's atmospheric, right?"
They waited a moment, listening to the sounds of Gob scampering downstairs and dodging the impressive barricade piled against the front door. Finally, his head poked into the backroom. "Yes."
"Charon feels it too." Aniss paced a bit, upsetting the edge of a strangely-placed throw rug. "It's not just Megaton. This could have affected hundreds of people."
Gob entered the room completely, looking smaller than usual. "Is it over? Or will it keep happening?" He kicked the rug back into place.
"I'm not optimistic," Aniss muttered.
Frenetic, Gob disappeared back behind the bar and emerged with a bottle. "Relax, Gobby," said Nova. "If something caused this, then Aniss will find it."
The knight held up a hand against Gob's offer of alcohol. "You guys have a gun?"
Nova chirped a laugh. "Yeah, but no bullets."
"Probably better if you don't have to use it, but I guess you should have the option. I'll give you what you need and get moving."
"Can you tell them you don't think it's me?" Gob pleaded. "How would I even..."
Aniss's toe found the corner of the rug again, and she toyed with it anxiously. She realized suddenly that it was there to hide Moriarty's old bloodstain. "I can convince a few people, but those aren't the ones getting violent. Lucas was already running interference when I got here, and you see how that's turning out. I'll do what I can. Afterward, we drink."
"You don't care much for drinking."
"Not unless I have something to celebrate."
Nova grunted. "We'll have a glass ready for you."
Charon digested the situation quietly on their way to the Citadel (though he rarely did anything with unnecessary volume). A stranger would have thought he wasn't listening. Aniss knew better; Charon was always listening.
He was either stressed out or deep in thought. She hoped for the latter, because no ideas were presenting themselves on her end. But the former was all-too likely, and Aniss wasn't sure how to approach it. Physically and mentally, Charon's health was his employer's responsibility, but she had never quite figured out how to check on him without pushback. It took a precarious blend of teasing, insinuation, and outright questioning. If not for the contract, she could just come right out and ask, but she didn't like to force information out of him.
So their relationship was stuck like this, forever an authority figure to a man pathologically opposed to authority. She had his loyalty, but he was reluctant to confide in her. Which would have been alright, if she weren't his only friend.
She studied him. "Any burning declarations you're withholding?" She considered resting a hand on his shoulder as she said it, but her friend appreciated his personal space, and their height difference would make it awkward anyway.
It took him a moment longer to speak. "How will they react to me at the Citadel?"
"Uh—" Surely the Brotherhood had their heads about them more than Megaton, right? "They'll be glad to see us. They know we get stuff done."
"I will keep my helmet on," he added.
"Okay, do that," she agreed. "But don't worry too much."
She sensed the ghost of a smile in his voice. "Worrying is what I do."
"Well, I can't control your thoughts."
"No, you cannot."
She didn't have to be a ghoul to sense the weird energy at the Citadel. It was clear that nobody here knew what was going on either; soldiers performed routine operations with urgent severity, hoping something they did would magically become helpful. The Prydwen loomed large overhead, sailed here from its regular place at Adams Base. Aniss had hoped someone in command could point her in the right direction, but now it seemed that the best course of action was to hop in her vertibird and fly to wherever Charon sensed it the strongest. Since the Prydwen was here, she would check with Arthur first just in case there was something classified that—
"Hey! Annie!"
Aniss tensed. There was only one person in the world who called her that, and he couldn't be here—
"Butch." Charon was already in front of her, defensive. "What do you want?"
"You just ran a job for me, don'tcha remember?" His innocent act didn't hide his anxiety, least of all from Aniss. "I gotta pay you."
"We haven't worked for you in a month. I rescued Brock as a representative of the Brotherhood. Pay them." Had it really only been a month since they'd spoken? The time elapsed seemed as long as the days seemed short. Before that, she would stop by Fort Bannister at least once a week to pick up work from the Snakes.
"Well, you're here now, so how 'bout I pay you?"
"I would just give it back to the Brotherhood. Cut out the middleman, I'm busy." She wasn't in the mood for this conversation.
Butch's eyes darted to the cold face of Charon's helmet. "Listen," he said. "Are we okay? Or, can I do something to make us okay?"
"Like I said, you owe the Brotherhood, not me." She attempted to sidestep him and get into the Citadel proper, but he blocked her path, eliciting a warning growl from Charon.
Butch DeLoria. Head honcho of the biggest gang in the wastes, just like he'd wanted. It wasn't exactly as rough-and-tumble as he'd planned, but the Brotherhood recognized their role taking in DC's strays and left them alone (alternatively, they recognized an enemy they didn't want to make). Always with the smug half-tilt of his head, never a hair out of place, and a gleam in his blue eyes that could send girls giggling. Not Aniss, though.
Aniss didn't giggle.
They had grown up enemies, matured into unfriendly neighbors, then suddenly become unlikely allies. Over the past five-or-so years, that alliance had become friendship. And Aniss would be lying if she said it had never felt a little less like friendship and a little more like something else, but nothing could have prepared her for the day Butch had brought her up to her bedroom and quietly proposed.
The thrill of realization, the humbleness of their surroundings, the uncharacteristic boyish hope in his eyes: the memories pulled her back, over and over. She'd been shocked at his question, but all the more surprised at her answer.
For a moment, it was all so perfect. There was no baggage, just two young people and one future. But it only took until the bottom of the stairs for the cracks to show.
Charon didn't like it. Well, there wasn't much Charon liked, but he hated this. He hadn't taken to any of her boyfriends, which was probably why she'd never held one down for over a month. But he had a small, sacred, and not-so-secret place of loathing reserved specifically for Butch. They had never gotten along, even after Butch had developed some relative maturity.
Aniss suspected Charon didn't want her getting married at all. He'd been plenty bitter when they'd told him, but his initial reaction had almost seemed betrayed. He'd barely looked at her afterward, though there had been plenty of muttered unfavorable predictions about their relationship, especially its implications for himself.
Butch had found it terribly rude and selfish, but Aniss couldn't help but understand. For so long, it had just been the two of them, and suddenly Butch was coming downstairs with his arm around her, announcing that the change was permanent. Charon had no choice but to be fully committed to his employer, and without warning, she had committed herself to someone else. Aniss had tried to calm them down but somehow ended up taking sides against both and for neither.
They'd patched things up, or so Aniss had thought, and visited Vault 101 to announce their engagement. Aniss wasn't banished anymore, but being there made her uncomfortable. All her friends had either died or turned against her, save for maybe Mr. Brotch. Amata had seemed about as enthusiastic about the arrangement as Charon, though she was more politely appalled than loathing and miserable. They didn't even bother to tell Wally. But the worst was Ellen, who had openly started crying, and not in a good way. Aniss ending the civil war may have saved lives, but it had let her son escape, and that was inexcusable. So the fact that he was marrying her was a tragedy about as big as they come for Ellen.
Mortified, Butch had ushered his mother into privacy as she mourned her abandonment. They'd stayed like that for a long time, with Aniss and Charon sitting in the hallway and staring down passerby for sport.
Ellen had emerged chilly but civil. Butch smoothed the embarrassment over, and Aniss had had the gall to believe they'd be fine.
Charon had strained them, Ellen had tested them, but the problem wasn't with their family. It was them.
Butch had never been the type for commitment. It was probably why Aniss had never made a move on him before. But he'd made his intentions perfectly clear, or so she'd thought.
Aniss feared she knew the real issue. When she had activated Project Purity, the radiation blast had put her in a coma for two weeks. It should have killed her — she'd thought it would. She woke up thinking all was normal, and she had been (still was) thankful for the second chance. But she hadn't had a period since, and it was clear that she would never be able to have biological children. Butch knew this. He'd never had reason to consider what it meant for him until then. Maybe he'd been prepared to commit, but once he'd realized a life of childlessness was part of the bargain, he couldn't go through with it.
A week after the proposal, just as gently and every bit as suddenly, Butch had broken it off, and Aniss hadn't contacted him since.
Hey, she wasn't entitled to his commitment. At least he hadn't waited until they were already married, right? And it had been an amazing week while it lasted.
Was she heartbroken? Absolutely. Humiliated in front of everyone she knew? More or less. Would their relationship ever go back to normal? Not in a hundred years. But... she was fine. Every messy, emotional, feminine thing she'd laid bare was locked up tight, and she was ready for everyone to forget it had ever happened.
But of course Butch had to try and fix everything. Intercept her on the way to such an important mission and look at her with those big eyes, asking to be friends.
"Breaking up with your fiancée doesn't make you friends again — at that point you're just exes. Charon and I have somewhere to be."
She tried to dodge him again, but he wasn't budging. "Is it the ghoul thing? How the heck are you supposed to fix that?"
"Not by standing here talking."
"Just give the word, you know, and the Tunnel Snakes are there to help."
"I know," she muttered. She knew. But strategy wasn't really at the forefront of her mind right now. A compulsion nagged her to seize the idiot standing in front of her and let hormones take over until one of them came to their senses. But she didn't do that.
"Aniss?"
"Here's how you can help me, Butch." She fastened her helmet onto her head to disperse any more interesting impulses. "Pay me in information. If you know anything about what's going on, tell me. Otherwise, I need to go."
Butch thought about it while Aniss listened to the sound of Charon's teeth grinding in frustration. "Tell me what you know," he said.
"All we know is that it's something in the air," answered Aniss.
"In the water," Charon corrected her. "I felt it along the river."
That sent Aniss's mind reeling. "So some form of radiation is in the water, but Geiger counters can't recognize it?"
Butch looked at his Pip-Boy as if newly confronted with the idea that he wouldn't be able to detect the invisible danger. "Well... if it's a water problem... I gotta tell you something."
Her heart lifted. "Yeah?"
"Ehhh..." Butch tugged on the popped collar of his jacket as if shielding himself. "Promise you won't get mad at me first?"
"I won't get mad." This was true; she was already mad at him.
He looked at her like he was trying to read her expression through the helmet's eyes. "So back when I was planning on marrying you, I wanted to get your dad's permission first. Only, you know."
Aniss stared at him. "Is this about the water?"
"Stop getting mad," he barked. "So I went to the Jefferson Memorial. You know how there's just a skeleton crew there these days, so I thought I'd get some privacy. Only, in the big round room, with the machines, there was this ghoul who didn't look like he was supposed to be there. Kind of skulking around, you know?"
"What did he look like?"
"Like a ghoul? I don't know, they all look the same."
Charon growled.
"That's a lead if I ever heard one," Aniss muttered, spirits lifting. "Thanks, Butch. You did good." She took off back through the Citadel gate, to where her vertibird was landed. "Just tone down the bigotry!"
It was a short hop over to the Jefferson Memorial. Aniss didn't care about stealth. If this person was messing with Project Purity, she wanted them to know she was here. She'd killed and died for the Project before.
They landed on the grass encircling the memorial. Aniss gulped down some RadX as the blades slowed. It might not help, but it couldn't hurt. Probably.
She didn't visit often. She was busy, and she expected the people in charge to hold down the fort without her. She'd lost both her parents to this building, not to mention the possibility of children. When things had settled down after the war, she'd tried her best not to have to come out onto the island anymore. But this was her family's legacy, and she would do what she had to do to protect it.
Charon opened the gift shop door to the sound of howling ferals. He shut it immediately, and shot Aniss a look.
Aniss picked her jaw up from the floor. "Roy Phillips, you piece of—"
"Shh."
She seethed. "They know we're here. I hope they know we're here. I want them to hear us charging down the hallway killing their guards, in increasing proximity to the rotunda, as they mourn the impending loss of their kneecaps." It had to be Roy. He had a 200-year-strong chip on his shoulder, and a homicidal streak that Aniss hadn't trusted him to lose if she got him a cushy apartment. After Tenpenny's accident, she'd informed Roy and his band of ghouls that the tower was under new management, and she couldn't help them get residence. His reaction pretty much assured her that she'd made the right decision. She felt bad for the others, but they'd made the mistake of following a psychopath.
Without warning Charon, she threw herself through the door and crippled the ferals in the hallway with the dart gun. Irritated, he shoved her behind him while she switched weapons, firing blindly into the dark hallway. "No more of that," he complained.
"They must have brought them up through the tunnels."
"It's good that we did not come that way, then."
They fought through to the rotunda. How much blood would have to be shed here before it would be at peace? Why did everyone in the wasteland look at a water purifier and think biological weapon?
"Ready?" she muttered at the door.
"Yes. Are you?"
She let a shaky sigh be her response, then stepped into the rotunda.
Michael Masters was slumped at the railing, submachine gun pointed in their general direction. His posture and expression didn't change when he saw them, but he called back, "They're here."
"Really, Michael?" Aniss remarked. "You're still working for Roy? It's been like six years."
"Might seem like a long time to you," he answered casually as Roy exited the purifier.
He stood at the top of the steps, stance wide, glaring down at them. "Why, if it isn't the bigoted little vaultie. And her lapdog too."
"You're insane," she snarled. "You didn't get a nice apartment so you're resorting to bioterrorism?"
"It was never about the apartment," he hissed, every word sharp and brittle. "Is it terrorism to make people look like us? Fate worse'n death, right? You can pal around with ghouls, but the thought of being one makes you show your true colors."
"Are you an idiot!?" Aniss shouted. She couldn't help it. "Not everything is about you! How's society supposed to survive if nobody can have kids, huh? And when people go feral, you're gonna act like that isn't on your hands?"
"They shouldn't," came a new voice. Charon swore when he saw the speaker exit the glass airlock with Bessie Lynn.
Aniss almost threw up her hands. "Dr. Barrows? Seriously?"
"Hello, Aniss. Charon," Barrows said awkwardly. "I think you have the wrong idea of what's happening here..."
"So I guess you hijacked Project Purity, killed its guards, tampered with the water supply, and turned people into ghouls by mistake?" she asked bitingly. Charon had always had a low opinion of this guy. Aniss could finally see why. She was gesturing so fervently that she could have misfired her rifle.
"Well, no. It's... unfortunate." He looked at Roy, as if confirming the misfortune, but Roy gave no indication that it was anything short of hilarious. His mouth twisted into a cruel grin, head tilted as if daring his cohort to disagree. "Well."
"This is your only chance for excuses, buddy."
Dr. Barrows straightened. "If my theory is correct, internal and external social stigma is a primary causative factor for loss of higher brain functions. So with everyone undergoing necrosis at once, I expect a much lower proportion to become feral. On the whole, this actually increased the population's lifespan precipitously. With the unfortunate side effect of mass sterility."
Aniss let a full five seconds pass in silence. "Why."
"Hey, Charon," Roy butted in. "Does this smoothskin speak for you?"
"No," Charon said. "I have nothing to say to you."
"Doesn't it kill you to have to take orders from this pretentious little brat? Sure, she's nice as long as you know your place. You think she'd be so comfortable dragging you around town if she looked the same as you do?"
"I have been employed by a ghoul. It made no difference." He stared down Barrows, who frowned.
"What were we supposed to do?" Barrows asked weakly. "You two may feel comfortable enough with what's happening, but we feel the Brotherhood's fist tightening around this city. Since the Potomac has been cleaned, people aren't afraid of radiation. They've lost any empathy that might have come from knowing it could happen to them. Underworld isn't gaining any new members. Soon enough, there'll be no place left for us."
"And you brought the Brotherhood to power," Michael added, still in position at the railing.
"Yeah! Class traitor!" Bessie Lynn shouted. No one responded to her outcry, and she shrunk away in embarrassment.
Roy patted her arm a little dismissively. "We're sick of being treated like animals. People can't get it through their thick heads that they're no better than we are, so we're gonna show 'em." His hand stilled, but kept hold of her shoulder.
"Project Purity would have been great after the war, but this is a new era. People have learned to live with radiation," Barrows reasoned, significantly less fiery than Roy. "You can't bring back the past. You can only move forward. Dr. Masters and I are making that happen. We've modified the Forced Evolutionary Virus to safely simulate radiation in the water—"
Aniss had reached her limit of hearing explanations. "Right now, ghouls are getting blamed for this. And whether or not people are better off, they didn't consent to be tested on." Aniss raised a hand when they tried to speak over her, and actually managed a moment's silence. "You can rationalize it however you want, but you're completely disregarding the consequences of your actions. This isn't a calculated plan for the greater good, it's just lashing out in anger."
"And why shouldn't we?" Roy spat. "After everything the world's done to us, we don't get to be angry?"
"You don't get to hurt people because you've been hurt."
Roy smiled. "Just you watch me." Before Aniss could draw a weapon, he tightened his grip on Bessie Lynn's arm and bodily threw her down the stairs. She shrieked, lost her balance on the first step, and tumbled down in a mess of flailing limbs onto the two of them.
Charon recovered first and drew his shotgun, but Roy was already safely out of the line of fire, back within the bulletproof glass of the purifier.
"What are you doing?" Aniss shouted over the sound of the woman groaning at her feet.
"He's releasing the next batch of FEV," Barrows said nervously. "Roy, we haven't completed our tests on that one yet—"
"We'll know everything we need to know after this," Roy said.
"Roy!"
Bessie Lynn was holding tight to Charon's legs, trying to keep him from making it up the stairs. Machinery began humming, and Charon poked her with the butt of his shotgun to pry her off. Aniss edged past them and was on her way up when a gunshot rang out.
The chaos stilled, and for half a second, it was like the moment of antigravity just before freefall. Then Roy crumpled to the ground, clutching his hip. Aniss turned to see Michael holding the smoking gun.
"Masters! You traitor!" Roy shouted.
"What are we doing here?" Michael asked, as if the question had only just occurred to him. "What are we trying to prove? This isn't what I signed up for."
Roy unleashed a string of curses, aimed his rifle, then thought better of it. Barrows, satisfied that he was finished, knelt by his side to look at the injury. "Don't tell me you're with them now," Roy groaned. "We can't do this without you. We're this close."
"I'm not with anyone," Michael said gruffly. "Least of all you. Glad I finally realized it."
"Was afraid you'd say something like that," Roy muttered. He fished something metal out of his pocket, closed his fist around it, and let his body go limp with pain and exhaustion.
Barrows picked up the object and held it to the light. It was boxy and gunmetal gray, with a big red button—
"Get out!" Aniss screamed, her body wrenching itself away in practiced coordination. Michael and Barrows figured it out a second after she did and clambered down the steps after her; Charon had already obeyed without question and was helping Bessie Lynn through the door. They piled out, almost on top of one another, and shut the rotunda door a second after the first explosion went off.
The building didn't stop shaking until long after they'd stepped into the sunlight.
Charon stood still by her side, the edge of his pauldron almost brushing her ear. Knights and scribes swarmed the place, assessing damage and moving debris. Aniss thought she might see fire through the cracks in the limestone, but maybe that was just the brilliant orange sunset washing over the land. She was tired.
The sounds of shouting soldiers washed over and through her, echoing in the hollow that had been carved out of her heart. She wished someone would give her an order, some direction, but they all flitted around on their own missions, paying her no mind. So she stood back and watched them work.
In her mind's eye, she saw the blackened machinery, the broken glass, the twisted pipes. Somewhere inside her, an idealistic little orphan was in agony, but all Aniss could seem to do was stare. Charon kept vigil with her.
Arthur broke away from directing traffic and approached their post next to the vertibird. He cut an imposing figure for a teenager; though his facial hair still grew in wisps and his voice held an adolescent tinge, his scars and stance spoke for themselves. Aniss had seen imposing before, though, and she still couldn't help but think of him as a child.
"Knight."
"Elder."
He nodded. "We've located the G.E.C.K. More investigation is needed, but it seems to be undamaged."
The little girl inside of her finally forced an emotion to the surface, and she picked her helmet up off the ground to hide the tears of relief. Hope from the ashes. "And the rest of it?"
"Our scribes are still working on the estimates. The damage is extensive. Thankfully, the Project doesn't need to be operational before we can start to counteract the virus in the water, now that we have the ghouls' assistance." She heard him fight off a sneer as he spoke. This certainly wouldn't help the Brotherhood's prejudice issues.
She turned fully to him, losing her air of respect, and tried to force some of the dullness out of her voice. "Get Three Dog back on air. You can't coordinate the public response without him."
Maxson stayed stiff as ever. "Thank you, Knight Lawrence. That won't be necessary."
"It absolutely is necessary. People don't know what's going on, they think the water is safe to drink. They need a voice they trust, and that voice isn't ours." She usually tried to repress all the fury her elder caused in her. Because he was a boy, because they had been friends, because he was a capable leader in his own right and she could be a good soldier. But the Project was hers, and the city was under her protection. Why did she even recognize the Brotherhood's claim over them anymore?
But Arthur Maxson knew when to pick his battles. "Acknowledged. He can broadcast under supervision if he wishes."
Small victories. She was so tired.
"Rest, Lawrence. You've done all you can," he said, voice lower. Elder Maxson was quick with praise when he was pleased, so he must have been unhappy with how Aniss had handled this. Maybe he'd wanted her to contact the high command first, maybe he'd have preferred she go in with a squad rather than just her bodyguard. He didn't seem to want to lambast her over it tonight.
"Thank you. I'll rest when the workers finish for the night."
He nodded, a critical eye still trained on her expressionless helmet. "For the Brotherhood," he saluted.
Her voice modulator barely registered her whispered response. "For the Capital."
Maxson frowned.
Hours after dark, when the scribes had all made camp, Aniss was still staring at the column of smoke trailing from the place of her birth. She couldn't tear herself away while it was so vulnerable. Maybe if Charon had shown some discomfort she would have given up, but he hadn't moved nor spoken for as long as she'd been standing here. She appreciated that more than she could express.
A light shone from nearby, and they both went on alert, but she recognized it as a Pip-Boy and relaxed. She knew who it was.
Butch surveyed them, then took his place wordlessly at her right shoulder, opposite Charon.
Unlike Charon, he only held his silence for a few seconds. "I'm sorry, Annie."
Somehow, his arrival brought all the day's pain with it. Or maybe it just forced her to acknowledge it. "Yeah."
"They gonna be able to rebuild it?"
"Maybe in time." She chuckled darkly. "Hopefully not twenty more years."
"Even if it was. They can't undo everything you've done."
She glanced at him anxiously. Such proclamations were unlike Butch, but he meant it. "Thank you."
He nodded. "You gonna sleep now?" he asked, as if it had been her idea.
"Yeah."
"Yeah. You're dead on your feet." He walked past her to go board her vertibird, and she thought she saw Charon nod as he passed. But that couldn't be right.
They slept on the vertibird, not bothering to fly while they were so worn out. Butch maintained a respectful distance down by the cockpit, while Charon remained practically glued to her side until he could confirm she was okay. She wasn't sure if he even slept.
Only when she woke in the midmorning and confirmed that the destruction was still there did she let herself cry. Charon finally gave her some space. She talked aloud to Dad a bit, but for once she had trouble imagining how he would respond.
Butch oh-so-casually suggested they eat something, so they had a nice breakfast in silence, watching the poisoned, crystal-clear bay.
The dust had settled. It was time to go home.
The Lone Wanderer peeled off her armor piece by piece. Her vertibird was docked at the Citadel, where they'd also left Butch. Aniss was hoping for a few hours to relax before they started dealing with the fallout.
She would have to check on the town, Moira especially. Though, knowing Megaton's resident mad scientist, she might have seen it as an exciting new experiment rather than a personal tragedy. Gob would be fine; the town needed him to detect the FEV in their water.
It was going to be a difficult series of weeks while Masters, the scribes, and maybe Barrows worked to counteract this. Hard to say what would happen to them and Bessie Lynn once it was over, but Aniss had bigger worries.
She plucked off her boots and tossed them across the room. They would have to make a circuit through the settlements to see how they were handling this. Rivet City would be the hardest hit; they were on the water and had never been a very accepting bunch. So maybe east and south first, then across the Potomac to the settlements furthest from the water. Yes, that's what they'd do, Aniss decided. They could leave in a few hours, after she'd checked on Megaton. But first, they deserved some time to themselves.
There was a knock at the door.
AN: Charon's quote from from Matthew 6:34, KJV. Wonder where he picked that up.
I'm just not even going to try to reconcile old and new power armor lore. You can puzzle through that one yourselves.
2262 -
Protective Custody
2263-2265 -
2266 -
January - Distance, No More
October - Power and Beauty
2267 -
2268 -
Ensnared
The Way Forward begins
2269 -
2270 -
The Way Forward ends
I Can't Help Falling in Love With You begins
2271 -
June - Shards of a Bottle
2272-2273 -
2274 -
I Can't Help Falling in Love With You ends
Tik Tik Boom begins
2275 -
Tik Tik Boom ends
Treacherous begins
2276 -
2277 -
January - Sage destroys the Divide
February - First Battle of Hoover Dam
July - The Mummy Returns
August 17 - Aniss leaves Vault 101
The Prodigal Son
September - To Set the Record Straight
Dead Man Walking begins
Treacherous ends/Partners begins
November - The Burned Man Walks
2278 -
March - Dead Man Walking ends
April - James dies (Purity War begins)
June - Guide Her Through the Night
Bitter Springs
September - Project Purity activates
October - Partners ends
November - Human Capital
2279 -
Adams Air Force Base (Purity War ends)
2280 -
May - Dogmeat's Vacation
August - Boones are married
2281 -
New Canaan is destroyed
October 11 - Sage is shot in the head
October 19 - Sage wakes up
2282 -
ED-E, My Bud
2283 -
January - Second Battle of Hoover Dam
February - To Have and To Hold
April - Awake, O Sleeper
May - Worst-Case Scenario
July - Mercury's Messenger
August - Safe Haven
September - Power and Beauty (pt. 2)/East and West begins
October - East and West ends
December - Blood in the Water
