Fort Hagen
May the 28th, 2288
23:57

Disorienting.

More than simply a byproduct of the uneven lighting and the disastrously messy corridors and rooms, trying to find their way through the former military base was disorienting because of its size.

Nothing was where it was supposed to be. Though she knew she had only been inside a handful of times before the day everything changed, before the War reached and surpassed its boiling point, the dissonance in lack of familiarity and surroundings she had, albeit briefly, once recognised was infuriating. Worse still was knowing, or, at least, feeling, they had been going in circles, up and down stairs, trying to find a way deeper into the facility for hours. Too many of the rooms looked the same, or similar enough to be misleading. A mess of memos, data, and intelligence reports printed out and bearing stains and age from over two centuries were left and littered about within what had once been a bustling military installation. The most unsettling sights amongst the mess were what remained uncovered on the desks once belonging to dedicated servicemen, Americans willing to risk their lives as spies and soldiers for their country against the Red Menace, and those in command of the base. It was seeing the photograph of General George M. Martine, his wife Hannah, and their daughter Madeline in the large office once belonging to the facility's most senior officer, however, which caught Nora by surprise, feeling sick knowing none of them were still alive, their family forever separated, the General never able to have gone home to his wife and daughter in Duxbury one last time. What words were scrawled on a notebook left on his desk said it all. Mutually assured destruction. God bless America, or, at least, what's left of it. Tightly entwined anger and upset beating in her chest, Nora left the room the second she could, reconvening with Cait, Nick, and Dogmeat to, yet again, attempt to find their way down to the deepest parts of the building where, they suspected, the man they were hunting awaited them.

Finding the main staircase again, the lawyer, the detective, the former cage fighter, and their eager canine companion made their way down and back into the lower levels of the facility, or, at least, the ones accessible by the stairs. Guns drawn and moving slowly and quietly, Nora, Cait, and Dogmeat followed Nick through to what the detective was hoping would be the route to somewhere – anywhere – in the facility where they could descend deeper into it. Minutes passed but felt like hours, and, time feeling almost nonsensical, Nora glimpsed at her Pip-Boy every so often to check the time, her heart sinking in her chest when, soon enough, they reached midnight. Hands shaking a little, she steadied them around her revolver again, and, upon hearing Cait excitedly call her, Nick, and Dogmeat over, all but ran to where the former cage fighter was waiting, having found a hole in the wall large enough to pass through. When they were all through, the first thing they saw were an array of computer consoles, desks, chairs, and papers left hastily behind. The second thing they noticed was the sudden burst of energy blasted towards them, quickly followed by the violent and grating metallic voices of synths, synths older than Nick, and programmed with only one directive, to follow orders without question. Chaos. Her thick leather jacket nearly singed by one of the blasts, Nora ducked out of the way of several more as they were fired and began shooting at the synths almost instinctively when she dove under one of the desks to protect herself the best she could.

Aggravated by the noise and the sight of the synths, Cait let out a furious yell before firing on them as quickly and forcefully as she could with her shotgun. One by one, between her, Nora, and Nick, the synths began to fall to the floor, reduced to nothing more than faulty circuits and wires. Impatience getting the better of her, once she felt sure she wouldn't be too badly injured by any of the synths, Cait pulled out and administered herself a dose of psycho. Then, holstering her shotgun, she pulled out her twin knives and began attacking the remaining synths in a frenzy while also taking the time to stab at the ones looking already dead to ensure they were completely beyond repair. More restrained and careful than the former cage fighter, Nick kept Dogmeat behind him while he shot down the synths charging towards him, disturbed by every word they said, every phrase they repeated over and over again. Not a moment too soon, when the synths were all destroyed beyond repair, the lawyer, the detective, and the former cage fighter paused. Careful not to hit her head against the desk as she stood up, Nora got back on her feet and reloaded her revolver, sweeping a few likely useful things into her bag, a few of them taken out of a half open trunk and a torn ammunition bag. Helping herself to whatever ammunition and chems she could find, Cait began doing much of the same after she sheathed her twin knives. Seeing an elevator lift at the other end of the room, Nick dusted himself off, reloaded his gun, and then quickly got to work on one of the computer terminals to attempt to get the lift working. Quicker than he expected, the elevator bell rang out and the doors opened. After a few seconds of hesitation, Nora, Cait, and Nick stepped into the lift with Dogmeat, pressed the button to go down to the lowest level, and waited while the rickety lift descended.

A minute later, the doors opened again into a long corridor lined with pipes and lit dimly by red and orange emergency lights. The sight alone was unsettling, but it was the light hum of electricity breaking up the otherwise abject silence which made it almost unbearable for the group when they stepped into and began down the corridor, drawing their weapons again, almost anticipating an ambush.

That was when the PA system crackled, and a voice came through and began to speak, one which left them all feeling sick as they followed the passage to the end of the corridor before beginning down a steep flight of stairs to another, deeper part of the facility's basement.

"If it isn't my old friend, the frozen TV dinner," The voice said with a laugh through the PA. "Last time we met, you were cosying up next to the peas and apple cobbler. Sorry your house has been a wreck for two hundred years, but I don't need a roommate. Leave."

"That's our man," Nick swore under his breath when three synths began firing on them just before they reached the last step of the stairs. "Planning something big here or is this just where you're hiding to lick your wounds?"

"Doesn't matter," Nora said, her voice trembling in fury. The second the synths in their way were destroyed, the group began down another corridor, reloading their guns, and, then, she affectionately ruffled Dogmeat's fur around his face. "Good boy. You did damn good leading us to him."

"Never expected you to come knocking on my door," The voice crackled through the PA's static again, though briefly less clear than before. "I gave you fifty fifty odds of making it to Diamond City, though I'd never thought you'd make any friends when you came out of your icy tomb. Surprised it helped you get that far. But after they got you to Diamond City? Figured the Commonwealth would chew you up like jerky and spit your soft, pre-War corpse out."

"Shite!" Cait ripped out one of her knives and began furiously stabbing at a synth which grabbed her by the neck when it stepped out of a nearly hidden armoury. "I swear to –"

"Look, you're pissed off, I get it, I do," The voice said, coming through the PA, almost clear this time. "But whatever you hope to accomplish here? It's not going to go your way. You've got guts and determination, and that's admirable, but you are in over your head in ways you can't possibly comprehend. It's not too late. Stop. Turn around and leave. You have that option. Not a lot of people can say so and not be lying to themselves."

"Not a chance in hell," Nora said, tightening her grip around her gun, stepping into a large, circular office, papers and old computer terminals scattered about the room and lining the walls, a makeshift bed made out of a couch, a few pillows, and a blanket. "I'll kill you before I give –"

"Nora," Nick said, sighing when he saw the pain and anguish in her eyes when she turned around to look at him and Cait. "Remember, Kellogg is a professional. He won't make this easy."

"He doesn't have to," Nora said, hands tightening around her gun almost hard enough to make her bleed. "I'm not going to let him or anyone else take advantage of or manipulate me. If that means I send him back to hell, I'm going to do it."

"She's damn right, Nicky," Cait said, draping one arm over Nora's shoulders while she tucked her shotgun under the other. "He's a real –"

"Okay, you made it. I'm just up ahead," The voice said through the PA, the crackling interrupted by the door on the other side of the room creaking open. "My synths are standing down…let's talk."

Almost in a daze, exhaustion threatening her body and mind again, Nora all but stormed towards and through the door, Cait no more than a few steps behind her. Nick hesitated, for a few seconds, but quickly followed after them, whistling at Dogmeat to tell him to come along, which the dog happily did. Down the hall and then a few steps through another door, they finally reached the room Nora knew, just by stepping into it, had been the central command centre. Where Nate's orders, by and large, came from. Where they…where the military may have been working to keep us in the dark and win the War…and look what it got us. As her hands shook around her pistol, another memory, one much older came back to her. It's not just the metal detectors and inspections we had to go through at work…it's the drills we had at school from the start, though I guess more so in high school, the ones for school shootings, the ones for what to do if one of our classmates turned on…if… Unsteady, she pushed the thoughts aside, grounding herself by feeling the weight of her revolver in her hands, and knowing Cait and Nick were beside her. The composure left her as quickly as it came, the man they had been tracking standing up from a desk, having been working at a computer terminal, and walking towards them, hands up in mock surrender with his gun still in one hand. Her chest tight, her heartrate spiking, and a light throbbing in her skull, Nora skidded to a halt when she saw his face. It wasn't just his voice. It was the same face. The same scar. The same smirk. When she got closer, the feeling in her body was becoming all the more difficult to ignore, her heartrate spiking again, all but smacking into her ribcage. For a second, her chest constricted, and, she was sure, the light throbbing in her skull would become a migraine. Yet what caught her off guard was herself, her –

"Fuck you, Kellogg," Nora's hands tightened around the revolver in her hands, this time drawing a bit of blood from her palms and fingers. "Fuck you, and everything you do."

"You're a real son of a bitch, you know that?" Cait added, reloading her shotgun. "But thanks for staying in one place long enough for us to find you. Real sweet of you."

He snorted. "How could I resist the chance to reunite with my old friend?" He turned to Nora. "Guess you've won something. Any questions?"

"Just the one," Nora snapped. "Tell me where my son is, damn it, or so help me God, I'll –"

"Right to it then? Okay. Fine," He shrugged. "Where to begin? Well, first, your son, Shaun…great kid. So, maybe he's not quite a baby anymore, but he's doing great. Your boy's not here, though. He's in a good place, where he's safe, and comfortable, and loved. A place he calls home. The Institute, though I imagine you might have already been thinking that might be it."

"So, you assholes really do kidnap people," Cait scoffed. "Sounds like a great way to endear yourselves to the Commonwealth."

"Them? I have no idea if they're trying to endear themselves to anyone, much less the Commonwealth. But me?" He rolled his eyes. "Trust me when I say this – I'm not interested in endearing myself to anyone, not in the Commonwealth, and not anywhere."

"Unsurprised they're the ones signing your pay stubs," Nick said, a dark edge to his voice. "Never thought the proof of it would come from your mouth, though."

"What have I got to lose?" Kellogg replied with a laugh. "You're little more than scrap metal to the Institute, the lady with the big mouth has eyes bloodshot enough to convince me she's got some sort of drug habit, and as for her…" He absentmindedly waved his gun at Nora. "In another life, you probably would have been a good mother, and I admire your dedication, even if it's completely useless. I have to admit, I find myself actually kind of liking you."

Nora scowled. "That some sort of joke?"

"Be reasonable," Cait said when Kellogg merely looked bored and a little amused. "And, maybe, we won't kill you."

"If I were reasonable, I wouldn't be doing this, now would I?" He said, looking back to Nora with a taunting smirk. "Now, I'll let you, the fucked up lady, and scrap metal go if you hand over five hundred caps and all of your armour, or, if not, I'll kill you the same way I killed your husband."

Seeing him load his pistol, Cait tackled one of the synths near him to the ground, and fired a shot through its head until it was nothing more than rubbish. Then, she ran to tackle and shoot one of the other synths. Nick fired on the synth nearest him, which began letting out the same grating phrases and comments as all of the other early model, dumb as rock synths the grizzled mercenary had set to patrol the facility. Her chest tight, her breathing constricting again, Nora began fighting Kellogg for control of his pistol, the lawyer and the cold hearted mercenary wrestling hand in hand for it. Kicking her leg up to slam into his stomach, winding him, Nora let go of him with one hand to regain her grasp on her revolver. Almost in a frenzy, Nora kicked at and tried one last time to wrench his pistol from his grasp. Unable to, she let go and steadied her revolver in both hands. Once. Twice. Thrice. Again. Once. Twice. Thrice. Her revolver fired on the man who had taken her son from her, the man who – No, please…for Shaun's sake, please don't have killed his… The answer, she knew, was the same as he claimed, so much as it left a sharp pain through her body. Reloaded. She reloaded her revolver and began firing on Kellogg again. Blood, thick and dark began to show itself clearly through his clothes. Violently shaking, she stepped back and barely skid out of the way of shot to the head from Kellogg's pistol which instead hit her in the arm. She let out a shout of pain and tried to refocus on the man's head. She fired, over and over, trying to hit him, until he began to sway before, after getting suddenly stabbed through the side by Cait and her twin knives, he fell to the ground, twitching before, finally, it was clear he was dead.

"Well, sweet dreams," Nick dryly remarked, raising an eyebrow when he knelt down to examine Kellogg's neck where Nora had managed to shoot him. "I never would have guessed they valued him enough to give him these."

"What?" Nora took in a sharp breath when she looked closer at Kellogg's body, a myriad of cybernetics visible the more pieces of his body they peeled back. "Shit," She said, a sharp edge slipping into her voice. "You were barely even human."

"No kidding," Cait agreed, beginning to decapitate him from his lower neck. "Evidence bag, Nicky?"

"If you're taking this much, might as well take the rest of them, but we need to find a way to store and preserve them the best we can," He said grimly. "I never thought my career would see this."

"I'd kill him again if I had to," Nora said, her voice cold. "He was a monster. He deserved this."

Nick stared at her, briefly in disbelief, before sadly shaking his head.

"When we get back to Diamond City, I think I owe you a stiff drink…and, hopefully, we'll find some way to make sense of this. We need to figure out the storage and transportation...issue, and I need to download as much information as I can from the man's computer terminals to as many holotapes as I can…because we're still going to do everything we can to find your son."

The Prydwen
June the 3rd, 2288
13:30

There had been few times, even in the twenty seven years of his life he had dedicated to defending the people of the Capital Wasteland as a member of the Brotherhood Of Steel, when the occasion called for wearing the formal, military uniform blacks.

From the moment he had put them on, retired Knight Captain Derek Branson had felt strange, stranger still when he sheathed its accompanying, ceremonial sword. His wife still uneasy, he had walked hand in hand with her out just past the gates into Diamond City where the vertibird and its pilot impatiently awaited him. Once secured in the seat next to the pilot, the young man began the flight up to the Prydwen, and no words were exchanged. Seeing the Commonwealth from the air for the first time in six years was startling, and a pang of guilt broke through the retired Knight Captain's thoughts. Just the year before we ended up here, only the year before I was left no choice but retirement and departing the former Capital, we had joked about me one day becoming a Sentinel. How much of it was, really, a joke and not a genuine aspiration? Well aware of the answer but, sure, he had still done what was right those six years earlier, he put it out of his mind. What he could not put out of his mind was the eerie feeling of seeing the Prydwen in the distance, growing ever closer, it having taken its place in the sky above what had once been the Boston Logan International Airport. A single day. The Prydwen had arrived in the Commonwealth only the day before, yet it was clear the Brotherhood had no desire to waste time. They were going to track down whomever it was they could, and would find a way to demand those who had left their ranks return. He was certain of it. Looking down at his military ID card in his hand, the retired Knight Captain let out a heavy sigh, knowing with every minute they grew closer to arrival aboard the Prydwen.

Branson, Derek Johnathan – Registration BR-109KC
Date Of Birth – April the 10th, 2235
Eye Colour – Brown
Hair Colour – Black
Ethnicity – Irish, Welsh, and Swedish
Blood Type: O Positive
Complexion – Pale White
Sex – Male
Height – 6'1"

Unease reaching out towards him again, the retired Knight Captain slipped the ID card back into one of the pockets of his coat. Feeling the vertibird beginning to slow, he looked up, took a moment to brush a thin layer of dust off his glasses, and squared his shoulders, ready to disembark the vertibird and board the Prydwen as it grew closer and closer. Minutes passed, some feeling longer than others, but, sure enough, the pilot landed the vertibird on one of the Prydwen's docking bays. Once the team aboard the Prydwen secured the vertibird in place, the pilot cut the engine and released the safety belts strapping him in. The retired Knight Captain did the same and followed him onto the platform. Yet meeting the uncompromising stare of the man waiting for them served not to lessen his anxiety but heighten it. The pilot dismissed almost as soon as he was greeted, the retired Knight Captain stood at attention before the Prydwen's Lancer Captain Alexander Kells who, wasting no time, curtly greeted him before ordering the retired Knight Captain to follow him inside to the Prydwen's command deck. The Knights opened the door for them, and, so, they entered. Briefly, seeing the doors to the command deck shut surprised the retired Knight Captain, but, recalling the meeting would be closed to leadership and not an address, the notion soon left him. Another Knight opened the door into the command deck and, nearly the second both the Lancer Captain and the retired Knight Captain stepped through, swiftly shut it again.

Taking his seat at the left side of the table closest to the Elder, Lancer Captain Alexander Winchester Kells waited, a bit impatiently, for the retired Knight Captain to take his seat at the end of the table, the one closest to the door, and directly across from the Elder. Already taking notes and seated at the right side of the table closest to the Elder, Proctor Marshall Water Quinlan reviewed the information he had drawn from the Brotherhood's internal database on the retired Knight Captain. Seated adjacent to him was Proctor Elisabeth Mischelle Ingram, in her wheelchair rather than her power armour, a decision which had surprised her close colleague and friend whom himself was sat directly across from her. Indeed, Knight Captain Aaron Ronald Cade, proudly sat next to the Lancer Captain, was almost incredulous, still, to Mischelle's decision. More so, however, he was quite surprised to see the man they had all formally summoned to the Prydwen, having doubted the man would respond. Beside him, Proctor Keith Skyler Teagan, less than thrilled to see the retired Knight Captain, put no effort towards being personable to the man with whom he had nearly thirty years of disagreements. The disdain mutual, the retired Knight Captain frowned when his gaze and Teagan's met, but he nonetheless sat down at the table and recomposed himself quickly. On the other end of the table from him, Elder Arthur Jonathan Maxson critically eyed the retired Knight Captain, scrutinising every movement the man made, even ones as minor as adjusting his glasses or the cuffs of his formal coat. The second the air in the room settled, he spoke.

"As I'm certain Kells would say, I'm pleased to see you haven't forgotten the dress and decorum expected for a meeting such as this," Maxson said before faintly smiling. "Welcome back to the Brotherhood, Knight Captain Branson."

"Thank you, Elder," Derek evenly replied. "If I may be so bold, what is the purpose of this meeting?"

"Is it not apparent to you?" Teagan said, his eyes narrowing. "After nearly three decades of service as a member of the Brotherhood, can you not recognise you are being called back to duty?"

"Quite right," Quinlan said, flipping to a new page on his notepad. "Though your departure from our Order was far from graceful, you were still a valuable asset. If you were not, we would not have allowed you to retire rather than face punishment for your insubordination as well as brought you, your wife, and your four children to the Commonwealth alongside your substantial possessions as you…moved from Rivet City to Diamond City."

"So much as I'm grateful to the Brotherhood and, yes, its leadership and previous Elders, while what you did for me and my family was the best for the six of us, it does not change my conviction my actions were justified," Derek shook his head. "While I don't agree with much of what the Children Of Atom say, do, or believe, and am relieved the damn nuke at the centre of Megaton was disarmed well over a decade ago, now, I don't believe in killing people for no reason. I stand by my decision to protect them and accept its consequences."

Cade eyed him strangely. "You nearly forfeited your career," He reminded him. "The Brotherhood needed the bomb for study, and the Children Of Atom were in the way."

"The Brotherhood wanted the bomb for study," Derek said curtly. "There were plenty of others identical to it in the region and, regardless, the Children's protest was entirely peaceful."

"It was a nuisance," Teagan said, disgust in his voice. "If they, or farmers, or any other civilians realised what we do for them on a daily basis, they'd be lining up to help. They have no idea how good they have it, and they are not risking their lives daily for the greater good. Collateral damage is inevitable albeit regrettable. I have never understood how you could rationalise what you did."

"You don't have to," Derek icily responded. He let the words settle before turning towards Maxson. "I assume this, then, is your proposing I return to the Brotherhood?"

"Yes," Maxson said, a hint of pride in voice. "That was one incident. Your years of service apart from it were impeccable, characterised by selflessness, sacrifice, and dedication. You were part of the team which got Liberty Prime online, were one of the leaders in the Brotherhood's middle ranks the day the Brotherhood defeated the Enclave, and, once the radiation subsided, were one of the people who retrieved Sentinel Lyons' body so her father and brother could give her a proper funeral. You are an asset to the Brotherhood, and, if we are to be successful in our mission here, we are tracking down and bringing back wayward, former soldiers, you among them."

"If that is so, I imagine you'll come into a great deal of resistance to it," Derek said before letting out a quiet, dejected sigh. "Including from me."

"Have you taken leave of your senses?" Kells incredulously exclaimed. "Are you doubting the importance of this? Or doubting we will make it quite worth it to you? I don't imagine you would be eager to turn down promotion to Sentinel."

"Promotion?" Derek repeated, taken aback. "I see," He fell silent and then looked back to Maxson. "Lancer Captain Kells is correct," He said. "I'm not eager to turn down such a promotion, but I have no other choice. Not without sacrificing my values, and not without causing unnecessary pain for my wife and our children."

"Then why are you here?" Maxson sharply replied. "If you're not rejoining the Brotherhood, why are you here? To challenge my authority as Elder? Or is there another more underhanded reason for it?"

"I'm here out of common courtesy," Derek confidently said. "As I said, I hold immense respect for the Brotherhood for what you have done for me and, most importantly, my family, but I won't be returning."

"Common courtesy?" Ingram said, an eyebrow raised. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised," She eventually said. "Although I'm sure I speak for all of us when I say I'm disappointed."

"I am as well," Maxson frowned. "It certainly raises concerns about the respect and affection the previous Elders had for you being misplaced. That said, I don't believe you understand the gravity of the situation, Knight Captain Branson. Beneath the Commonwealth, there is a cancer, known as the Institute, an organisation experimenting with dangerous technologies, those which transcend the destructive nature of the atom bomb. We are here to prevent a war by starting one of our own against the Institute. As you've been in the Commonwealth a long while, I assume you know of them."

"Everyone in the Commonwealth knows of the Institute, but just about no one knows much beyond the little they show," Derek said. "They keep their cards close to the chest, and for that reason they have, I would say rightfully, earnt their reputation as the Commonwealth's bogeyman."

"True, though my question is more specific and pertains to someone you worked quite closely with, someone who was leading in mission control the day we defeated the Enclave," Maxson said, surprised when the man across from him appeared confused. "Dr. Madison Li. We're looking for her, and we suspect she's within the Institute."

"If that's true, I have no way of confirming it," Derek shook his head. "I haven't seen Madison in a little shy of a decade."

"If you come into contact with her, ensure she makes it to us," Ingram told him. "We have a few special projects we'd like her to return to."

"Also," Maxson continued. "If you're insistent on not rejoining the Brotherhood, I must make one thing clear: if you or your family are helping the Institute and their synths, there will be retaliation. We're here to secure the Commonwealth, and I'm more than willing to make an example of traitors."

"I have no such information," Derek calmly replied, though his face fell when he saw the cold, harsh look in Maxson's eyes. I never thought Elder Lyons' worst fear would be realised, about Arthur's emotional state, having been surrounded by killers and groomed to become a killer himself without a normal childhood. He's only twenty one but… "None at all."

"Understood," Maxson said, breaking into his thoughts. "Thank you for your cooperation."

"Of course. But Arthur?" He stood up once the Elder did so as well to approach him and shake hands. "You are only a few years younger than my two eldest children. I don't look at you, now, and feel pride, but I don't look at you, now, and feel shame either. All I want to know is something I suspect you yourself cannot answer…where did that eager yet compassionate little boy go?"

"He grew up," Maxson said as the two men firmly shook hands. "Don't forget what we've discussed."

"Of course," Derek said, falling silent for a few seconds. "Now you're here," He said as he stepped towards the door to be flown back to Diamond City. "I hope you'll do the right thing instead of what is easy."

The Institute
June the 3rd, 2288
15:45

"Early this morning, thanks to the swift response of our Coursers to the sudden loss of all contact, we have learnt, after decades of being one of our primary surface operatives, Conrad Kellogg is dead."

Allowing the news to settle over the room, the entire Directorate having been convened for their weekly meeting early, Shaun looked up from the report at his father, sat on the opposite end of the table from him, the doors two metres behind him to the room shut and locked. Nate clasped his hands together, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. Keeping his hands in front of his face to hide a faint smile, Nate glimpsed at the members of the Directorate. Dr. Alan Binet, attempting to mask his relief, cleared his throat, awaiting elaboration on the unexpected news. Dr. Allison Filmore, perfectly composed, kept herself restrained but was happy to know the monster known as Conrad Kellogg was gone. Just as happy at the news, Dr. Madison Li was content with a simple, faint smirk. Nervous as ever but glad to know there were one less among the litany of things for the Institute Directorate to worry about, Dr. Clayton Holdren let out a sigh of relief. The only one in the room to be annoyed, Dr. Justin Ayo suspiciously eyed all of his colleagues, frowning when he looked to Dr. Madison Li, who narrowed her eyes when she realised he was looking at her. With one last look over the Directorate, Shaun flipped through the report file before, finally, speaking again.

"While previously we, in most cases, relied on Kellogg for our above ground operations, we will have to change how we approach those situations," Shaun said, skimming through the report until he found what he was looking for. "As reported by the Courser designated X3-27, Conrad Kellogg was killed in the command centre of what had once been the US Army base Fort Hagen, where he had been preparing to enter the Glowing Sea."

"The Glowing Sea?" Alan said, completely incredulous. "Why on earth would he be preparing to enter such an inhospitable location?"

"Kellogg believed the synth who stole Dr. Virgil's data went to the Glowing Sea," Shaun explained. "It seems he has been killed, and well before he had finalised his plan to track down the rogue synth."

"So," Clayton said. "I can't say I'm not happy to know our most…troublesome surface operative is gone."

"I have to agree," Madison said, an eyebrow raised when the file was handed to her by the Director. "He was one of the worst threats to Institute security, not to mention his aggressively violent nature."

"Kellogg always was a cold bastard," Allie noted. "If you ask me, we're better off without him. Things topside can be dealt with more effectively and securely by Institute personnel, with or without the escort of a Courser."

"Absolutely," Madison said with a short nod. "With the Brotherhood, I'm sure, waiting for the nearest chance to attack, having someone as unpredictable as Kellogg in the field would be a disaster waiting to happen."

"I hope you're not forgetting the new burden this will place on the SRB," Justin condescendingly told her. "Kellogg was an issue for the Directorate as a whole. With him gone, the SRB is now carrying all of the weight of ensuring our surface operations go smoothly."

"Yes, Dr. Ayo, we're all well aware," Madison coldly replied. "I have to ask," She said, turning back to Shaun. "The report suggests a rogue synth was partially responsible for his death but doesn't specify which unit was involved. Was it one of the first and second generation synths he had with him when using Fort Hagen as his…compound?"

"Or did one of our escaped third generation synths cause this mess?" Justin sent a sharp glance towards Alan. "As the rate of escapes has not seemed to decrease much of late despite supposedly clear results from Robotics' tests on them to ensure they are not defective."

"The synth involved is one the Institute has no reason to reclaim," Nate calmly interjected. "It has the designation N1-33, but was not logged in the Institute's database after 2150 when it escaped, apart from a note signifying, in 2230, it was found to be living in Diamond City under the name 'Nick Valentine' which was the name of a pre-War police officer whose information and memories had been implanted into the synth as an early, failed attempt to bridge the second generation synth programme into the current, robust third generation synth programme."

"As confirmed by reports from M7-62, 'Nick Valentine,' departed from Diamond City after having apparently found a renewed interest in Kellogg," Shaun continued, inclining his head slightly towards his father. "Our understanding is 'Nick Valentine' found Kellogg, confronted, and killed him, likely in retribution for one of the many known atrocities Kellogg has committed over the years."

"His known atrocities barely scratch the surface, I'm sure," Madison said, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the thought of the man. "For someone who was active as long as he was, and who was given as many experimental treatments as he was, the probability of him being even more of a monster than we know is quite high, disturbingly high, even."

"I have to concur," Clayton shook his head. "Speaking for my Division, I can say we in Bioscience were more than eager to have him removed from field operations, not only because of the fact he's, as I believe Dr. Filmore said a few months ago, a violent menace but because our work in life saving cybernetics was being held back significantly by tailoring all of our research to fit one incredibly unique subject. Kellogg was unusually tall at 6'8" and also had significantly weaker than average lungs as a result of decades of exclusively smoking cigars, not to mention his high blood pressure."

"He was also analysed by psychiatrists out of your Division, was he not?" Alan said, his face grim when Clayton nodded. "If I remember the report correctly, Kellogg was diagnosed, after several evaluations by at least five of our top psychiatrists over the years, as having Narcissistic Personality Disorder, symptoms of PTSD, and an overall lack of empathy. I can only imagine how atypical his brain chemistry and shape must have been, especially when considering his age."

"Another excellent point, thank you, Dr. Binet," Clayton said with a grateful look to his colleague. "And, speaking for myself, Kellogg was quite the unsettling presence to be around, and his behaviour has more than once almost killed Institute personnel. I apologise for bringing it up, but the incident last August where he pushed Dr. Filmore through a glass window on the second floor into one of the concourses was…"

"A result of him being informed myself, you, and Dr. Li had written a joint memo asking for a reassessment of his capacity to handle himself topside without risking our operations and personnel," Allie said, a hint of bitterness in her voice. "Which, I understand, the person responsible for doing so has not been able to be identified."

"Unfortunately, yes," Nate said shortly. "We did, however, suspend Kellogg's interactions with anyone in the Institute to the bare minimum afterwards, considering the serious danger he proved himself to be."

"Seeing as I needed stitches nearly all the way up and down my right arm, broke my left wrist and left leg, and had a concussion, yes, I would say he was dangerous," Allie wryly remarked. "As I said, he was a cold bastard, and we are better off without him."

"Yes, good riddance," Alan chipped in. "Might I ask – was this old and, I presume, discarded synth the only one responsible for Kellogg's demise?"

"That matter is to be investigated," Shaun said evenly. "As for now, we will find ways to compensate for Kellogg now he's dead. More pertinent, as you are all well aware, the Brotherhood Of Steel have officially entered the Commonwealth with their army and, most concerningly, their entire upper leadership, including their Supreme Commander here on the East Coast."

"His name is Arthur Maxson," Nate put in. "He's one of the last descendants of the Brotherhood's founder, Roger Maxson, whom I met, by chance, twice before the War, as he was a captain in the army of the United States."

"Fascinating," Alan said, barely masking his awe. "Though I imagine their current leader is…"

"He's twenty one but nevertheless a formidable leader," Nate elaborated. "He was granted the rank of Elder at the age of sixteen, and, apparently, defeated a deathclaw by his own hands at the young age of thirteen. Regardless, our intelligence has shown he's quite well liked, and an inspiring leader who has the support of all the other members of the Brotherhood's upper leadership."

"Well, that's disturbing," Madison darkly observed. "How much do we know of their activities at the moment?"

"They've taken over and established their base of operations at the former Boston Logan International Airport," Shaun said, irritation slipping into his voice. "Which is surprisingly convenient for us, knowing they have one place from which they're carrying out their operations. Although we have noted they are also present at the former Cambridge Police Station, much closer to home, and thus I have sent out the order to all Divisions for immense caution."

"Good," Allie said. "The last thing we need is for a preventable security breach topside to give the Brotherhood any true look into our capacities, or location. Considering they acquired one of our third generation synths – and an early model Courser, no less – being as discrete as possible is even more of a must. While things internally are as tight as they've ever been, the Brotherhood's presence at all complicates things topside."

"They do," Clayton said, rubbing his neck. "The former airport is closer to Warwick than I'd like, too."

"All matters we'll address in due time," Shaun reassured him. "Their acquisition of S3-47 is deeply troubling, not the least of which being because they now have, in their possession, one model of each of our three synth generations."

"Oh, dear, I nearly forgot about what happened at University Point amid the chaos of their arrival," Alan said, paling. "Speaking of which, is our outpost there secure and the residents, of course, safe?"

"Yes," Nate said with a slight smile when he looked at Madison. "Dr. Li was able to confirm such when she escorted Miss Spencer to visit her father for the girl's seventeenth birthday. We're also receiving daily reports from X6-88, and are prepared to take decisive action if necessary to defend the location."

"Regarding the Brotherhood, other than keeping ourselves hidden from them or, at least, our whereabouts, we also have the massive security threat of their…project referred to as Liberty Prime, one which they appear to preparing the gantry necessary to support such a large scale construction," Shaun said grimly. "As such, I am ordering all resources possible to be directed towards the completion of Phase Three, including by means of sourcing potentially useful pre-War technology. I understand it may sound as though we're cutting corners, but the reality is we have the capacity to seamlessly integrate pre-War technology to complete Phase Three if necessary, and must be prepared to do so on, potentially, drastically short notice."