Diamond City
February the 3rd, 2289
14:10
"Not surprised the situation with the Nakanos is complicated, Kenji has always been a paranoid parent even when we used to work together, but their daughter being convinced she's a synth? Haven't heard that one before."
Sat across from each other in one of Diamond City's most luxurious establishments, detective Nicholas Julius Valentine and General Preston Jon Garvey only glanced around every so often when the doors to the building would open and let some of the falling snow fly in. The dirty looks from some of the other patrons also, every few minutes, caught their attention. Yet, wanting both a serious conversation and, in Preston's case, a meal without shouting and fist fights, the Colonial Taphouse was, they had decided, the best place to go. Per usual, Darcy Pembroke was already deep into a bottle of wine, chatting with the barkeep, Henry Cooke. Feeling superior and at a table in the booth on the other side of the room from the detective and the General, Ann Codman and her husband, Clarence Codman, looked over towards them every so often, with Ann in particular making her displeasure known about in snide comments to Henry whenever he came by with more drinks and tapas for her and her husband. Every time she said something, Nick stifled back a laugh. Though he was certain nearly everything one could say about a synth – good or bad – had already been said to him (or said when no one thought he would hear of it), there was something about her particular disdain he found amusing, almost wanting to remind her of how she had been fascinated by him when she had been a child.
"Hope you don't mind being up here," Preston said, drawing the aged detective from his thoughts. "Especially with…how some people have been talking about you."
"Don't mind it at all. Hell, if I knew I'd be a hot topic of conversation, I'd have been coming here more often," Nick said with a wry smile. "And I have to agree with your judgement on eating here rather than at the Dugout. You'd think things would be normal there during daylight hours, but far from it."
Preston chuckled. "Leave it to Vadim to cause a ruckus at any time. Or facilitate one."
"With Cait hanging around, hard not to have something of ruckus," Nick agreed, rolling his eyes. "The girl is a talented fighter, and has some real passion and care in her, but she seems to love very little more than a good fight."
"She's gotten warmer, this past year," Preston noted. "I think being around Nora has been good for her. For both of them, actually. I can't imagine the grief she's going through every damn day, but Cait seems to have a way with cheering her up."
"She really does," Nick said. "Think Cait keeping her spirits up – even a little – helped keep her from giving up while we were out searching for Kellogg. Wouldn't have blamed her if she had, given how long it took and how stressful it was, but I'm pretty sure it was Cait who got her through it most."
"I'm honestly just amazed she's kept going," Preston said before shaking his head. "Finding out the Institute are the ones who have your kid? I don't know if I could have found it in me to go so far as to go into the Glowing Sea to try and find a way into the Institute just to find my kid. Think it would have broken me, to be honest."
"A mother's love endures through all," Nick said, his face falling. "But I can't say I'm not worried about her state of mind. I've been worried about it for awhile – since offing Kellogg – but I keep coming back to it. I don't want to judge her. She's been through the kind of hell no human being deserves to go through. At the same time, though, there's something about the way she's been since killing him that doesn't feel quite right."
Preston raised an eyebrow. "How so? She's seemed about the same to me. More…downtrodden, but still the same person."
"It's the anger, the short temper and…" Nick paused, gathering his thoughts. "What has really stuck with me and what I can't shake is the look on her face and the…sharp, cold way she spoke when we took a closer look at Kellogg's body after killing him. She saw the cybernetics in his chest – and there were a lot of them – and said 'you were barely even human,' before telling me she'd kill him again and he deserved it. Kellogg was a monster of a human being; I'm not denying that. But it scared me when she said it, even more so when she told me and Amari she thinks he deserved a worse fate than what he got."
"I mean, it's a jarring thing to hear," Preston conceded. "You've seen a hell of a lot, Nick, and I trust your judgement. If you're worried about anyone, I'm sure you have a good reason for it. But I think she's just in a dark place and is struggling to work through it."
"I hope you're right," Nick said grimly. "Maybe I've been out here too long and become pessimistic."
"Hard not to be," Preston sighed. "I'm proud of what we in the Minutemen have been able to do, but it doesn't feel like it's enough. That's part of why we're going to scout out the Castle, soon. If we can get a radio communications system set up from the one still there, we'll be able to communicate better with not only each other but the people who need us. At least, I hope it'll allow us to do that."
"You're all doing fine work for the people out here," Nick said with a small smile. "Does the old heart good to see. Not much altruism left in the Commonwealth."
"Not getting any from the Institute at any rate," Preston said, frowning. "Or the Brotherhood, for that matter. The way they handle interacting with people in the Commonwealth has left a really bad taste in my mouth. I'm glad people have been willing to push back, with or without our assistance, but it makes me uneasy, having them here, especially since they have yet to learn the Commonwealth belongs to all of us, not just the Institute, and not just them."
"Not to mention their leader, Maxson? Man's a lunatic," Nick irritably said. "Speaking of him and the Brotherhood, have they been bothering that town down south you guys now protect again? The one used to be part of the University Of Massachusetts?"
"University Point? No, although, I'm getting concerned by the lack of contact from our men there," He hesitated. "After talking it through with Sturges and Derek, I think we're going to head down there by the end of the month if we don't hear anything. We haven't heard anything out of them since…mid November, I'm pretty sure. We assumed that meant things were going fine, but I'm starting to worry."
"Could be the Brotherhood scared them all into silence," Nick remarked. "I'd believe it."
"I would too, which is why I'm hoping things are alright but they're being extra cautious, not wanting to risk somehow slighting the Brotherhood," Preston said. "What with the townspeople having already been paid a less than pleasant visit from them, after all."
"The people there have been given the shortest stick in the Commonwealth, far as I can tell," Nick said darkly. "They have the Institute to contend with and now the Brotherhood? Can't think of many worse corners to be in than that one."
"Everything to do with the Institute's presence there is…odd to me," Preston admitted. "They were so willing to compromise with them and do so in the open and yet they won't come out from wherever it is they are in the Commonwealth? It doesn't make sense."
"Institute wanted the girl and the data she had. Easier than taking out a whole town," Nick replied. "I'm more so surprised they kept their promise to them about the girl being allowed to visit her father, but that's neither here nor there. Sure they have their reasons. Real question is: do we want to know 'em?"
Preston considered that. "Honestly, I'm not sure if knowing would make it better or worse."
"Hard to tell with the Institute," Nick sombrely said. "I want to believe they have good intentions, not because they made me but because I'd rather not have people in the Commonwealth to have to worry about the Institute all the damn time. They have immense resources, and, according to Virgil, the former Institute scientist Nora and I met, they do take a lot of people in from the surface because they can see their intellect and worth. Think the number he gave us was seventy two percent of the hundreds of people they take each year."
Preston stared at him a moment. "Hundreds?" He repeated. "I'd have thought less than ten. Guess the Institute's bigger than I thought."
"A lot bigger, from what he gave us to understand," Nick said with a sigh. "They're underneath the ruins of the former Commonwealth Institute Of Technology, but they've, I'm sure, extended far beyond being underneath the campus which, if I recall correctly, was a hundred and sixty eight acres going at least a mile down along the Cambridge side of the Charles River Basin. People are resilient as hell, but they're more spread out, now, than they were back then and, resilient or not, the bombs threw everything to shit and killed far too many people and for no good, damned reason. If we're spread out up here, the Institute must be spread out down there, too. From what I understand, before the War, the population of Massachusetts was around seven million, and that's dropped to probably around five million, since, if I had to guess."
"How many of those you reckon are in the Institute, then?" Preston said, curiosity piqued. "Assuming you're including them."
"I am, and I'd probably put at least a good couple hundred thousand being in the Institute," Nick said, taking out a pen and notebook. "I don't remember my time in the Institute. From my understanding, no synth does. Only synth I've ever met who does has gone under multiple experimental procedures with Amari to recover her memories, and it has been hell for her. But my point is this: the Institute may have started underneath the ruins of the CIT, but they wouldn't have been able to keep going without expanding their facilities underground. My guess? They've dug deeper and deeper, and farther and farther out from east to west and created the closest thing we have left in this world to a bustling metropolis."
"Guess it makes sense the Brotherhood have been building the hell out of the old airport, then," Preston said, falling silent in consideration. "Seems more and more of their troops fly in daily. How ever many people they brought with them when they first arrived in June has at least doubled since then with their…reinforcements. Last time Derek and I talked about it, he recalled – at least in 2279, after they defeated the 'Enclave' – the Brotherhood in the Capital Wasteland had about four hundred thousand members, spread all the way up and down from North Carolina to Pennsylvania. This has to be only a fraction of their troops."
"And they had been sending people up here for years before their leadership arrived," Nick said, writing a few notes down. "I can't tell you what fraction of their troops are here, and, hell, my own guesses on how many people there are in the Commonwealth – with the Institute or not – are something of a shot in the dark. But I can tell you, with them building a military base out of an airport that would have seen hundreds of thousands of people pass through it a week? They're not going to stop bringing their troops here any time soon, and how ever many people they've already got here is only going to get bigger."
"That's what I'm afraid of," Preston said tiredly. "The Brotherhood could easily replace the Institute as the biggest threat to the Commonwealth, and, in some ways, maybe they already have."
"They have," Nick told him. "The Institute ain't playing no bullshit games with us about how much they care. The Brotherhood are, and that's what makes them dangerous."
The Commonwealth
February the 10th, 2289
14:13
A doughnut shop.
It was a doughnut shop.
Even a couple hundred metres back, it was clear there were Institute synths present. The grating mechanical voices were distant but clear enough in the crisp winter air. The pale blue lights emanating from their 'eyes' and the guns they carried reflected harshly off the lightly falling snow, a few small drifts already building up. Nora narrowly glanced between Deacon and his 'tourist' and closely watched them move slowly towards another spot closer to the old doughnut shop. Cait, getting antsy, kept fidgeting with her winter coat, pulling the hood on and off to keep herself from playing with her gun. When they began to follow Deacon and his 'tourist,' Nick took one last look around before going after them, uneasy when he saw the way Nora scowled at Deacon making lighthearted comments every so often. A few minutes more of slow, methodical walking, and they crouched down behind a tree and a growing snow drift. A bit nearer than before, the sight of the synths were, at least, clearer. It was as the enigmatic agent had said they would be; first and second generation synths, the ones with fully mechanical bodies, a few replicated human organs, and an unnerving, metallic voice. Looking rather annoyed and brushing his (falsely) long blonde hair over his shoulder, Deacon sighed, and waved Nora, Cait, Nick, and his tourist over to him.
"Your recon was good, Ricky," He said, careful to keep his voice low. "Exactly what headquarters was expecting. Sorry you had to scout it out for so long."
"Part of the job," He grunted. "Done my part. Can I head out?"
"You're not even going to help us get in there?" Nora said irritably. "You're useless. If the Institute ran you all out of this place, why the hell wouldn't you assume they'd still be active around an area they know you've been and had, presumably, been for a long time?"
"Gathering information is my job," Ricky told her, standing up and readjusting his bag on his shoulders. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home. I'm sure you can more than handle yourselves with Deacon assisting you. He may be a bit of a disaster of a human being, but he's good at what he does."
Cait rolled her eyes. "Spent more than a few years of me life in the Combat Zone. Trust me when I say I can more than handle a few synths."
"Won't be just a few," Deacon warned her. "There's no more than – probably – fifteen to twenty of them out front, but this is the Institute we're dealing with. There's going to be a hell of a lot more once we actually get into Switchboard. Too damn many of our agents got massacred here, so there's also a good chance of coming across some skeletons. They've been dead on the floor since the summer of 2287. Doubt there's much of them left, unfortunately, but they died heroes."
"Doesn't give me much hope," Nick said cautiously. "If the Institute's still scraping through the place nearly two years later, then they're probably looking for something specific."
"We don't think they know about Carrington's prototype, but it could be that they're looking for," Deacon said, shaking his head. "And we really don't want them to find out we're no dumbasses when it comes to technology. They may be lightyears –"
"Unit of distance, not time," Nora muttered.
"– Ahead of us, but we're not a bunch of idiots knocking their heads around to see what sticks," He went on. "Tom's brilliant. If he weren't with us, I bet the Institute would've found and recruited him by now. Also probably would have been able to get him clean."
"Sure, because that's the solution to everything," Cait said dryly. "Toss away the chems and suddenly life is amazing! Beautiful! Fantastic!"
"Only thing 'amazing, beautiful, and fantastic,' is my hair," Deacon said, swishing his long blonde tresses in the falling snow. "I sometimes go in and change something about my face every few months, too. Eyebrows, lash extensions, nose jobs, the works. There's this merc in Goodneighbour whose girlfriend doesn't like it. Or me. Though she's not exactly a pleasant taste herself. Did look hot in a Vault suit, though. Don't know why she doesn't wear tighter clothes more often. She's got a good rack."
"Charming," Nora said, her nose wrinkling in disgust. "You talk about all women like that or just a few?"
"Just an observation, Jesus, you're touchy," Deacon said, putting his hands up in mock surrender. "But I guess it's not relevant to what we're here for. At all. So…back to business. I know it sounds – and looks – ridiculous to say our base of operations was out of that doughnut shop, but it was a lot better than it sounds until it was all blown to hell."
Nick frowned. "How bad was it?"
"A complete and utter disaster," Deacon sombrely replied. "The place was strong and defensible, and, hell, we thought it was secure but, in a matter of a few minutes one day in the damned dead of summer, a bunch of first and second gen Institute synths breached the doors and turned the place into a shooting gallery. The survivours – me, Tom, Des, Carrington, Glory, and Hadley included – didn't have time to grab anything. It was a nightmare. Last time Hadley ever did any outright surface work, other than talking with people and making sure people leave or enter for their mind wipes. Really got to her."
"She's a hell of a lot more sensitive and anxious than you might assume," Nick agreed with a sigh. "So, take it the front doors ain't looking like a good option?"
"No can do. Unless you want to get massacred. That's why we'll have to go through the escape outlet, which, unfortunately is through a sewer tunnel," Deacon said, turning to Nora. "I'd consider it a close personal favour," He jokingly began. "If you don't give up all the information on us to the Institute after we help you get in."
"Because I'm going to be leaping to cooperate with the assholes who took my son and husband from me," Nora dryly snapped. "Do I look like an idiot to you? I don't care how nicely they may have kept things for my baby, they let him become Kellogg's living doll!"
Deacon grimaced. "Sorry, should have realised you're not the joking type."
Not dignifying him with a response, Nora recomposed herself by taking a look about their surroundings and reloading her gun. Cait did the same and winked at her when they stood up and, Nick shortly behind them, began following Deacon towards the aforementioned sewer tunnel. Not too fond of the idea of sludging through a sewer tunnel, Nick tried to keep himself focused on the mission rather than the impending awful, foul odour waiting for them. Can't eat or drink but I can hear, speak, smell, breathe, can take in and receive tactile sensation. Institute could have at least gone all the way making me. Checking to ensure his gun was ready to fire, the aged detective paused a minute and, when he looked back up, he saw Deacon waving frantically at him. Snowfall getting heavier, the detective holstered his gun and began running to reach where the enigmatic agent was under a tree, Nora and Cait about a metre away from him. When he reached them, the enigmatic agent began rapidly listing things off, from more (somewhat incoherent) information on what had caused the abandonment of the location as headquarters in the first place to warnings about the potential rewiring of security measures they had created within the complex. He stopped talking when he was satisfied they knew enough and began walking again with them close on his heels.
Dusting off a few of the ever growing layers of snow on what he was nearly certain to be the access point to the sewer tunnel, Deacon clicked his gloved fingers against each other with a smirk when he was proven correct. A small snow drift partially obstructed the access point from the ground. The moss nearly always hanging down over it from the top had turned into an icy curtain. Wasting little time, Deacon began hacking at the ice wrapped moss with the butt of his gun, nearly being nicked on the cheek by Cait and her twin switchblades when she pushed in front of him to cut them down. Making short work of it, she sheathed her twin switchblades on her hips and began kicking down the snow at the base of the access point. More restrained, Deacon began swiping away at it by hand until it was cast aside enough to be passable. One by one, they went into the access point, soon reaching the door at the end of the small bit of tunnel visible from within the mounds of earth and rubble. Deacon removed a key from within one of his coat pockets when Nora, Cait, and Nick were standing beside him in front of the door. He jammed it into the lock on the doorknob, letting out a light sigh of relief when he found it to still fit and, sure enough, it clicked and the door unlocked, creaking open when he pushed it.
"We're going to take this slow and dip our feet into the water," Deacon said, keeping his voice low. "The water might be full of bullets, so be ready for a fire fight."
"Promising," Nora said under her breath. "Just what I was planning on doing today."
"What are we looking for?" Nick whispered to Deacon, warily glancing at Nora. "Do you have anything on it, now?"
"I do, but, for now, I can't tell you any more about it other than I know where it is, it's important, and it was developed by our good old Dr. Carrington himself," Deacon said, sighing when Nora's gaze narrowed. "Sorry, but strategic ignorance has saved our organisation more times than I can count. Just know it's real important to our work, and Des wouldn't have us go and risk our hides on a whim."
"Where is it, then?" Cait said, pinching her nose shut in disgust. "This place smells worse than the Combat Zone."
"Part of why it was so useful as a hiding place for our headquarters deeper in this shit," He said with a shrug. "In all seriousness, though, the Institute could have just about anything waiting for us down here. Guarantee you there'll be lots of first and second generation synths, seeing as they let some roam around outside the main entrance and out in the open."
Nora scoffed. "And, if it weren't for your former 'Courser' refusing to help, this could be a lot easier or not even need us in the first place. Provided she's as formidable an enemy as Coursers supposedly are."
"Glory's reservations are legitimate, even if you don't agree with her," Deacon said uncomfortably. "She sees things in shades of grey you won't. The synths didn't start off as nigh perfect copies of human beings, and the Institute spent decades if not centuries working up to that level of hubris. Since the first and second generation synths were stepping stones along the way, the Railroad's not fully united on how we feel about them."
"It's a touchy subject, understandably," Nick mildly noted. "Can't say I blame any of you for having strong feelings on the matter."
"Some of it's pretty easy," Deacon said with a half hearted shrug. "Everyone, for instance, wants to liberate the third generations. It's just people like Glory who think we should help the earlier models, too. I go back and forth on it. Seems the first generations especially are basically the same as a Protectron but, maybe, they're really good at faking being incapable of sentience like the third generations. So, you know, the line is muddy. Any time it gets brought up, there's fireworks and all the old arguments flare up. Glory is the most hardline on her stance, but some others won't run missions like this either. But none of that's why we're here."
Nick shortly nodded. "Let's get down to business, then."
"Not a problem," Deacon said, a little unsettled when Nora glared at him for winking at her. "A couple hundred metres down from here," He started. "The tunnel opens up and the facility's back entrance becomes accessible, meaning the first step is to get there and override the security lockdown. With any luck, I'll remember the password to unlock the door in. Having to beat it in with a sledgehammer or something doesn't sound fun."
"You got a sledgehammer?" Cait said, her eyes glinting mischievously when he nodded and slid off his snow dusted hiking backpack to start rummaging through it. "Mind if I test it out?"
"If you don't tell Glory I let you bash heads in," Deacon replied, pulling it out and tossing it to her. "Be careful with that. It's heavier than it looks."
"I've used heavier things," Cait said, grinning when she caught the sledgehammer. "Seems you're more fun than I thought you were."
Nervously nodding, Deacon zipped the bag back up and slid it back up over his shoulders. More than ready to get as far away from the rank smell permeating from the tunnel, Nora went after him, quick as she could, with Cait and Nick not far behind her. Cait swore to herself when she realised she had, in the few minutes they had paused, gotten used to the odour. Disgusted, the former cage fighter took off down the tunnel, sledgehammer in hand, and ran as long as she could before needing to stop and catch her breath. Seeing the exit of the tunnel, she all but leapt through it, only looking back to make sure Nora, Nick, and Deacon were still coming as well. The three of them crossed the threshold into the small room no more than a minute after her. Relieved to find the computer terminal still intact on the wall, Deacon briefly panicked when he struggled to turn it on. The second the login screen loaded, he let out a small cheer, then quickly entering the first password he remembered. When it didn't work, he chewed at the inside of his cheeks in thought before recalling the second. Getting antsy, Cait stepped over towards the door into the deeper parts of the facility, lightly tapping the sledgehammer against the bottom of the door. She nearly fell through it when the door suddenly swung open, Deacon finally having gotten the correct password and entering the commands to open the door.
"I'll be looking for rail signs, symbols we use to send messages to each other," Deacon walked through the door backwards, waiting a little ways down into the narrow corridor for Cait, Nora, and Nick walk through the door themselves. "And, if you like the sound of that, we got signs and countersigns – like you saw me use with Ricky – and dead drops and even a secret handshake."
"Secret handshake?" Nora dubiously repeated. "Are you trying to make yourselves seem like a gang?"
"In some ways," Deacon said with a shrug before turning around and kneeling down about halfway down the corridor. "Someone left one here. This one means danger. Yeah, we know, you poor dead bastard, we know."
"How many people did you lose when the Institute attacked?" Nick said when the enigmatic agent stood back up and began walking again. "Guessing it wasn't pretty, from what you've said."
"We had been harbouring about…fifteen or so synths down here, and, seeing as this was our headquarters, we had a couple hundred people living and working down here. Those of us in the current headquarters? We're some of the few who survived," Deacon said, pausing when they reached the end of the corridor and stepped onto a catwalk above a small room. "Damn…" He said, heading towards the stairs down into the room. "Never gets easier, seeing the bodies of your friends. Even after they've turned to skeletons."
"Institute must've looted whatever they might have had with 'em, too," Cait said, looking disappointed. "Too bad we can't take some of the useful shite they might have had on 'em."
Deacon shook his head. "Doesn't matter what they could have or couldn't have had with them. They were real people who didn't deserve to die just so their bodies could be picked clean for goods."
When he began darting down the stairs, Cait groaned upon seeing a pool of water at the bottom, and a web of pipes forming a smaller and smaller second corridor. Muttering to herself about needing to take a long bath in perfume, Cait irritably swung the sledgehammer back up to carry it rather than drag it along the metal, rock, and brick. Just as annoyed at having to slog through the cloudy, piss and shit littered water below, Nora covered her nose and mouth with one hand and tried not to start swearing when she began wading through the ankle deep water a metre behind Deacon, Cait and Nick barely a foot behind her. To all of their mild relief, the water level grew lower and lower until they reached a completely dry, slightly larger third corridor which opened up to another catwalk and set of stairs down into a small room. Passing a few more skeletons, Deacon took in a deep breath to keep himself calm. Then, he began down the stairs, pausing and throwing his arms out behind him to tell Nora, Nick, and Cait to stop upon hearing the sound of footsteps nearby, and the sloshing of more water at the bottom of the room. Drawing his gun, he slowly began to make his way down, and, sure enough, there were several first and second generation synths patrolling a few metres away from them when they reached the bottom.
Not a second to waste, Deacon started across the room, firing on the synths only moments before they noticed him, Nora, Cait, and Nick. The awful grating sounds of their automated voices and the metallic whirring of their systems as they began to fire on the four, Nora slipped past Deacon and shot at a few of the synths from behind, moving as far across the room and away from the deepest parts of the pooling water as she could. Ever cautious, Nick aimed for the torso and fired on the synths with the most distance between them and him as possible. Deacon nonchalantly shot round after round from where he had slid to be in nearly the middle of the room where the water was the deepest. Having no desire to step in any more of the water than she had to, Cait ducked out of the way of the shots both from the synths and her companions, making her way across the room along the wall on the left side. Briefly panicking when one of the synths got within arms reach of her, the former cage fighter swung the sledgehammer in her hands up to try and hit its head. When she finally managed to hit it, the swing bashed the synth's head into the wall and, for good measure, she smacked it against it a few more times until the circuitry and wires in its head and neck were fully visible.
Soon enough, the only sounds left were those of their own breathing and the sloshing of the water under their feet.
"Damn, that was impressive," Deacon said when Cait, looking bored of it, tossed the sledgehammer into the water with the shorted out and broken synths. "Here she is!" He said, clapping. "The one, the only – Cait!" He smirked. "Is that how they used to do it in the Combat Zone? Never got the chance to see more than a few minutes of any of your fights…while there on undercover business, of course."
"I'd be glad to show you how we did things in the Combat Zone, Deacon," Cait said, taking out, aiming, and tossing her twin knives into the wall barely two inches away from his right ear. "Name the time and the place."
He jumped to the side when he realised how close her knives had been to his ears.
"On second thought," He said when she came over and ripped them out of the dirt wall. "I'll just stick to watching you fight."
Cait rolled her eyes. "Pussy."
Giving her a nervous smile, the enigmatic agent quickly reloaded his gun and made his way to the other end of the room and towards the opening to a much larger corridor, which Nora was already waiting in front of, arms crossed. Eager to get out of the room and away from its smell, Cait darted past him and towards Nora, letting out a sigh of relief when she found the smell was less intense, the water abating a few feet away from the opening into the larger corridor. Deacon waved at them to follow him the second he was within arms length of them, and, albeit a bit begrudgingly, they did. Nick lingered in the opening when he reached them, taking one last look back from where they had come to check to see if they were being tracked. He went after them when it was clear they were alone. The bright white spotlights that had lined the walls since exiting the tunnels turned back into low red safety lights, and the foul odour of the sewer water dissipated into the rusty smell of wet dirt and clay. Down one corridor, then into another. A few sets of stairs, going down deeper into the earth. Another corridor, turning into another. More sets of stairs down and, then, they reached the entrance to another large sewer pipe, though slightly drier than the one giving entrance to the underground maze.
Hearing nothing but the echoes of their own footsteps and breaths as they began walking through the tunnel, an uneasy feeling began to settle over them. Almost itching for a fight, her hands shaky, Cait paused and let Nick walk past her, pausing a moment to take a few doses of buffout out from in her coat pocket. Closing her eyes, she dry swallowed the pills, gagging a little in the process and telling herself it was due to the return of the foul odour of the sewage water under her boots. Seeing Nora, Nick, and Deacon were almost disappeared farther down the tunnel, the former cage fighter took off after them, skidding to a halt when she reached them and saw, just ahead, the pipe was partly broken through, creating a space just big enough to squeeze through and into a small corridor with a door into another room in the wall no more than a metre away from where they had entered the corridor. Pushing past the other three with him, Deacon ran towards a computer terminal on the wall near the door. Letting out a sigh of relief when its login screen loaded faster than the first had, he quickly began entering passwords, just as relieved when he entered the correct one on only the second try. A few quick keystrokes, and the door into the room opened, revealing a large room on the other side of which were a set of half ajar double doors.
Hearing the telltale voices of the first and second generation synths again seeping through the doors, Deacon swore under his breath but steadied himself to open fire the moment they pushed through the doors. Sure enough, at least a dozen synths were patrolling within, and turned towards the clanging of the metal doors being pushed open and smacking into the doorframes. Nora swore when some of the shots from their laser weapons by the synths singed her coat. Shooting down two of the synths that had hit her, she wasn't fast enough to get out of the way of another shot from another synth that burned through one of her gloves and partially burned the front of her right hand. Letting out an angered cry of pain, the lawyer dodged out of the line of fire of a few of the synths approaching her, hitting one of them in the back of the knees with several shots from her revolver and another in the torso. Almost hit by another synth with the butt of its gun, Nora nearly stumbled back into a wall trying to get out of the way, relieved when, in the chaos, Cait grabbed the synth into a chokehold with her entire left arm. Not wasting the chance, the lawyer shot the synth in the chest a few times before Cait fired a final shot into its head. Both of them breathing heavily, Nora half heartedly smiled at Cait when the former cage fighter smiled at her; the moment of levity not lasting long enough.
Ever swift on her feet, adrenaline (and drugs) coursing through her veins, Cait reloaded her shotgun and ran at a synth trying to shoot Nick, tackling it to the ground before shooting its head clean off. The aged detective skidded back, looking startled, shooting at another synth reloading its laser pistol and downing it with a few well aimed shots to the head and shoulders. Trying to get out of the way of the gunfire, her right hand hurting like hell, Nora began running up one of the two sets of stairs to a second level in the massive room. A bit annoyed when she saw Deacon already up there and, annoyingly, nonchalantly sitting on the railings and shooting at the synths down below, the lawyer knelt down and tried to steady her increasingly shaky hands. Her sights set on one of the remaining synths, she began to quickly fire at it and, to her relief, managed to get it down before having to reload her revolver. Deacon winked at her in approval, to which she rolled her eyes and did her best to keep focused and ignore the increasingly painful sensation of the burn on her right hand. One shot. Another. Another. Taking no chances, Nick shot at one of the synths Cait seemed ready to take to the ground before she could, only for her to leap in front of him no more than a few seconds later, pushing him back from being hit by a few quick shots from one of the remaining synths. He swore when the edge of his trench coat got singed by another one of the synths but made short work of it the second his gun was reloaded.
Little by little, the sound and the fury of the synths grew weaker and weaker. Deacon slid down the railing he had been sat upon to shoot one of the synths in the side of its torso from closer and closer. Nora shot down and ducked out of the way of a few shots at her from where she was still knelt at the top of one of the stairs, the pain in her hand getting worse by the minute. Careful not to accidentally hit the increasingly erratic Cait, Nick focused on two of the quicker synths, swearing under his breath when he missed one of them by mere centimetres. About to shoot one of the synths clean through the torso, Deacon misfired and hit the wall when, startling him, Cait grabbed another synth in a chokehold with her left arm, shooting the other synth in the shoulder with her shotgun, struggling to fire it with one of her hands in an awkward position with her arm tightly wrapped around its neck. When Nora shot down the synth whose shoulder had been torn open by Cait, the former cage fighter whipped around to kick the synth she had restrained in the chest but fell over in the process, getting dizzy. In a stroke of luck, she still managed to shoot it in the neck, and began stumbling back up to her feet. Shot after shot rang out and, then, the sounds of their gunfire were all that remained, the synths shorted out and broken on the ground.
"Well," Deacon said, dusting himself off and turning to Nick. "So far so good. All I got to ask is you don't sell us out to the Institute on the way out."
Nick chuckled. "Friend, you got nothing to worry about. Me and the Institute haven't been on speaking terms for a long time."
"Won't want you back after this," Cait said with a smirk, holstering her shotgun, though she lost all humour in her voice when Nora came down from the stairs, clutching her burned hand. "Fucker. Just a –"
"This has been a great time, hasn't it?" Nora said, swearing when the former cage fighter suddenly grabbed her hand and began squeezing a bit of gel onto it. "Damn it, that stings."
"Going to wrap it up, lassie, don't worry," Cait said, dropping the bottle of gel to grab a roll of gauze from in her bag, haphazardly hanging off her left shoulder. "Stupid lasers hurt more than they should. Got a real nasty burn from one of those about halfway up and across me right leg a few years back. The motherfucker responsible for it got a nasty surprise when I found out where he and his gang were holed up in an alley in Goodneighbour. Hancock approved."
"I'm sure he did," Nick said, laughing a little before letting out a low whistle when he took a better look at their surroundings. "Well, guess the pre-War government spared no expense making another place to run their dirty little secrets out of."
"From what we've learnt over the years, this was just one of the 'Defence Intelligence Agency's' secret complexes in good old Massachusetts," Deacon said with a dramatic shake out of his falsely long blonde hair. "This one was a research lab, and, like the others, never officially existed. They called it the Switchboard. The DIA eggheads spent their precious brain cells here trying to outwit the Red Menace. The prototype is locked up in the heart of the facility."
Nora raised an eyebrow. "A research lab? For what?"
"Something called the 'Predictive Analytic Machine,'" Deacon replied, a little excited. "I don't know how it works, but it's one of the coolest pieces of tech I've ever seen. Basically, the government began the project a decade before the War – far as we've ever been able to gather – and wanted to have a machine capable of accurately predicting the future and, specifically, foreseeing and stopping a nuclear war before it could happen. Didn't exactly go as planned."
"Clearly," Nora said, flinching a little when Cait tightly tied off the gauze she had been wrapping around her burnt hand. "If it weren't for the absolute mess this place has been left in, I'd want to take a better look at it and whatever research they left behind. It's no forensics or crime lab, but it has potentially fascinating research nonetheless, I'm betting, and, also, is the second most important government run laboratory I've ever been able to access."
Deacon stared at her in surprise. "What was the most important, then?"
"The FBI Laboratory in Quantico, Virginia," Nora said with a faintly glib smile. "I was asked to accompany the district attorney I was working with on a case to the lab so she could receive some of the processed evidence and discretely bring them back to Massachusetts."
"Wonder if the place is still standing," Nick mused. "If it is, I could probably be talked into visiting it under the right circumstances."
"Well, either way, welcome to the Switchboard," Deacon said, starting up one of the two staircases to the second level again. "It was a pretty sweet place to call home, if I do say so myself."
"If you're interested in and can understand pre-War government research," Nora muttered, heading up the stairs only a few paces behind him, Cait by her side and slinging her bag back over both her shoulders again. "Which seems to be a serious if."
"Surprised the Institute didn't find this place before you," Cait remarked. "A research lab of any type sounds like something they'd have a fucking party in."
"Had a kind of party in here," Deacon said grimly, picking the lock into the room at the top of the second level. "It was only fun for them, though. We had try to not get killed by their Coursers. They sent some first and second gens down here at first, too, but they didn't need to. The Coursers could have done the job all on their own. I joke about it, but they really are top of the line tech in the Institute's 'let's fuck up your day' deck. If they have anything more powerful than Coursers, then the rest of us are fucked."
"Hate to agree," Nick said with a frown, stepping through the door just after him, Nora, and Cait. "I've heard rumours about them over the years, and each one is nastier than the last. Lots of people didn't even think they were real at one point, but, as a synth myself, when someone says the Institute is capable of something, I tend to err on the side of caution and believe them."
"Can't think of much they aren't capable of," Nora said, irritably stepping through another pair of large metal doors Deacon kicked loose after they got caught on their hinges. "Seeing as they have their 'Molecular Relay.'"
"That," Nick conceded. "Is something even I would have had to think twice about if it weren't for seeing it with my own eyes in Kellogg's memories."
"Explained a hell of a lot to us," Deacon said, lowering his voice when they turned left from a small corridor and into a messy office. "Part of why Des is so fascinated by the schematics for an interceptor of its signal you got from the ex-Institute egghead."
"Funny," Nora said dryly when they pushed open and stepped through another set of metal doors at the back of the office and into another short corridor. "If she's so interested in them and wouldn't have them without me, then why is she having me go on a wild goose chase through a government facility with you to get some fabled prototype?"
"Caution," Deacon said shortly, waving them to follow after him as he turned left at the end of the corridor before turning left again down a much smaller corridor a few feet farther down, walking backwards the whole way down. "The work we do is sensitive and –"
The sound of a laser weapon firing ringing out, the enigmatic agent turned quickly on his heel, only to swear when one of the shots fired brushed his neck and unevenly singed his wig off from just above his shoulders. More upset than he would ever admit to at his favourite wig being ruined, Deacon impulsively charged into the room the corridor opened up into and began opening fire on the first synth he saw, two others quickly coming into his field of view. Still annoyed by her burnt hand and a little amused to see how annoyed Deacon seemed at his wig being ruined, Nora quickly entered the room as well and began firing on the synth backing into the left corner near what appeared to be a large bank vault. Sweeping up some of the hair cut off from Deacon's wig on a whim, Cait slipped past him, Nora, and Nick to throw the jagged pieces of hair at the synths to distract them. The second they were out of her hands, she pulled her shotgun back out from its holster and aimed it at the head of the synth closest to her. When she managed to shoot it off, she cheered, laughing when Nora, Nick, and Deacon took down the other two synths no more than a few seconds later. Flipping her shotgun into the air and catching it with one hand, Cait looped an arm around Nora's waist and grinned when the lawyer smiled at her.
"I think the wig looks better fucked up," The former cage fighter whispered to her. "Less pretentious for sure, ain't it?"
Nora laughed. "Hard to look more pretentious," She said, taking a small step back when the door to the vault began to creak open. "This where your prototype is hidden?" She called over to Deacon.
"It is," Deacon cheerfully replied, stepping away from the computer terminal to the right of the vault door. "Fingers crossed the Institute weren't smart enough to send one of their people to come and check if there's anything worth taking in here."
"One would hope," Nora said, startling when she noticed a skeleton bent over on the floor next to a large, overturned metal shelf. "That one of your people or…"
"It is and…" Deacon sighed, his voice and countenance suddenly serious, kneeling down to carefully remove a gun caught in between the skeleton's fingers. "Guess I should have known you didn't make it, Tommy. Fuck," He bowed his head and made the sign of the cross when he noticed a few bullet holes in the skull, feeling sick when he saw the bullet casings too. "Wish we could have saved you from having to…make the choice to end it in here or die from…natural causes."
"Don't tell me his gun is your fabled prototype," Nora irritably said. "If we came all this way to –"
"Nope, this…" He went silent while he carefully put the gun into his bag. "This was just his special ordinance made by Tinker. He's brilliant. A little nuts, sometimes, but brilliant. This gun was cutting edge, old world tech that he restored. It's powerful and, more importantly, quiet. Don't think there's another weapon like it. The prototype…" He said, stepping around the overturned shelf and towards another set of shelves still up against the wall. "Is this right here."
Nora frowned when he removed a small device from one of the boxes.
"That's it?" She said, critically observing as he carefully set it back in the box to open his large hiking backpack. "Are you kidding me?"
"Nope," Deacon said, taking a metal container out of his backpack, quickly removing the lid and setting the device into the foam lined interior. "This is the honest to God prototype developed for us by good Dr. Stanley Carrington himself," He smiled at Nora while he sealed the box again, unperturbed when she merely crossed her arms in return. "Quid pro quo and all. Hard part is over."
"Then let's get out of here," She frigidly replied. "I'm tired of this fucking charade."
"Just a few minutes," Deacon reassured her when he slipped the box with the prototype inside back into his backpack and zipped it shut. "I…I know I don't look like it but," He fell silent, sliding his backpack back on and stepping back over to the skeleton, once again kneeling down and bowing his head. "Having been raised Catholic, and with Tommy having been such a good friend and person I…I need to take a few minutes to pray for him."
"Of course," Nick politely replied. "We'll be right outside."
"Thank you," Deacon said, briefly glancing back at them and taking a rosary out from one of his coat pockets. "For being willing to help us, too. I know it's not what you were betting on but, I promise, we'll fulfil our end of the bargain and, really…thanks for understanding why we…needed you to do this."
"I don't understand," Nora said tiredly. "But I accept this is what I need to do to get your help and, if it gets me to my son, then so be it."
The Prydwen
February the 13th, 2289
16:08
"Scribe Neriah and her team are giving the twins their first baths and will do their heel prick for blood type and DNA right there after. You'll be able to see them soon, Elder."
"And Karissa? Where is she? Is she alright?"
"In surgery. She struggled during their birth and tore badly. You'll be able to see her afterwards, once she's stable and wakes up."
"Why wasn't I told about this immediately? Why did seemingly everyone wait to tell me my wife went into labour?"
"You've been in Strategic Command meetings all day, since 5:00, Elder. It would have been imprudent to cause a disruption to those meetings."
"I don't care how 'disruptive' you think it would have been. You're talking about my wife and our children! And – let me be clear – she is going to survive this. I don't give a damn what it costs."
Sick. Angry. Nervous. A mix of emotions Elder Arthur Jonathan Maxson never wanted to feel at the same time. It unnerved him. After years and years dedicated to becoming impossible to faze, a quick thinker and tactician, and an adeptly trained combatant, he had learnt to put emotions away, in little boxes for each one, not to be mixed to avoid them clouding judgement. It was infuriating to be unable to do so. His mind wandered but then became calm by realisation. The sick feeling came from the same place as the nervous feeling, he was certain; natural concern for his wife and newborn children. The anger was from his direct orders being disobeyed. There were many rules and protocols among those in the Brotherhood, some of which even went unspoken, but highest among them was to never disobey direct orders from the Elder. He had been clear. If his wife were to go into labour, he was to be told and permitted to be there. Frustration building, he began to irritably pace in the quarters he shared with his wife and, now, their two children. About to snap at whomever it was opening the door, he caught himself when he saw who it was and with whom they were with.
"Thought it was about time they see their father," Knight Captain Cade said, smiling when he saw nearly all the tension leave Maxson's face upon seeing his sleeping daughter and son. "Think they're pretty tired. Big day for them."
He laughed a little. "It certainly is," He went quiet and carefully took his son and then his daughter into his arms. "He looks so much like her. They both do."
"Speaking of Lady Maxson," Cade said, closing the door. "Surgery is going well, which was all Neriah would tell me before handing me them and going to assist as best she can."
"Thank you for bringing them to me," Arthur said and, to Cade's surprise, it suddenly became all too clear just how young he truly was. "I feel strange saying it, but I've been worried about them for…well, since 'Rissa and I found out she was carrying them."
"Then I'm especially glad you're able to be with them now," Cade said, pausing a moment in thought. "If I may, Elder, I…understand how you're feeling. The worry for your wife. Having been there…if you need to talk in confidence, I'm more than happy to listen."
Arthur sighed. "I might be paranoid," He finally said. "'Rissa has had health issues all her life, stemming from her childhood due to the abuse she was subjected to during it. The things she has been through…in so many ways, we're alike but for different reasons. I certainly never had what anyone could consider a normal childhood, and, proud as I am of my life and what I've achieved, the…the thoughts I've been contending with ever since finding out our children were being born and I wasn't at her side are awful. Truly, I feel I've failed her as her husband."
"I think everyone's learnt – by now especially – to be completely forthright with you even on matters unrelated to our mission," Cade shook his head. "It's easy to forget you and Lady Maxson are only twenty two when, more often than not, you both act closer to thirty two. You're quite lucky to have found each other, and I don't say any this to be patronising. You're one of the most dedicated and driven human beings I've ever met, even in the Brotherhood. Honestly, I think a lot of people have misinterpreted your dauntlessness and stoicism and forget you're human too."
"Were I unwilling to go into battle myself or remove my emotions from key decisions, I would be unfit to lead," Arthur said, briefly panicking when his son began to stir in his sleep. "Karissa and I met at the summer fair in Rivet City when we were just eighteen but, these past four years including nearly two years since our marriage, I was enraptured by her since the first time I saw her. She didn't know who I was, and, honestly, I was a bit hesitant to tell her because of the…nature of my position. But it didn't deter her, and, instead, she became an indispensable companion to me and my closest personal confidant."
"I remember you mentioning that, shortly after you announced your engagement," Cade said with a smile. "You said you saw her shoot two radstags through the eyes with only a few fires of a bow and arrow. Knowing your fondness for antiquated and historical methods of combat and hunting, I was unsurprised that caught your attention."
"It did, but there was even more about her that surprised me," Arthur said, quietly laughing so as not to wake his newborns in his arms. "Over the course of her life thus far, 'Rissa has taught herself and become fluent in three languages and has an incredible memory. I won't lie and say she and I have never fought; I can't even remember how many times we've, over the last few years, accused each other of not being supportive enough of one another, or her frustrations in not being allowed access to classified materials, or my insistence upon us having a strict and almost emotionless public…no. I'm sorry, Cade. I shouldn't be lamenting the difficulties 'Rissa and I've faced in our relationship. Certainly not while she…"
"It's alright," He said calmly. "None of this is abnormal or makes you any less of a good and decent human being."
"I suppose not, however, given I have no idea how her recovery is going to be…" Arthur said though he went quiet again. "Losing my mother was the worst thing to ever happen to me, but I was lucky enough to have known her, and gotten to see her a few times even after she sent me out to the Citadel to Elder Lyons' care. Her death being so shortly before Sarah's, Elder Lyons' and, then, Will's just a few years ago…I have lost all my mentors."
Cade nodded, taking off his hat and holding it against his chest, bowing his head in remembrance.
"Star Paladin Lyons' death was…truly gut wrenching," He eventually said. "I understand, of course, how painful the loss of his mother and then his sister and father were on him. He had gone through far more tragedy than any one person deserves in his short life. Only forty. I wish there were more I could have done for him."
"I had just become Elder, shortly before his suicide," Arthur said, struggling to keep himself from crying. "Having to give the news to Paladin Bael was the worst conversation I have ever had to hold with anyone under my charge. Telling the rest of the troops was difficult too, but telling Will's own husband after he returned from a deployment? It was painful. The amount of respect I have for him, still carrying on and still commanding the Citadel, is immense. I don't know how he does it."
"Nor I," Cade said. "As you well know, my wife died shortly after the birth of our second child, Kelly, and it broke me. I had to take a leave of absence for nearly two years because of the shock, and Elder Lyons was more than gracious about it, something I still hold him in high regard for. Much as I needed time to grieve their mother and raise our girls…I think Missy and Kelly needed me more."
"Missy just turned twenty five, didn't she?" Arthur said with a faint, brief smile. "Proctor Quinlan is making the most of her…having broken one of her legs falling from the gantry. Apparently Emmett quite likes the attention of a second human petting him while going through documents."
"Leave it to the cats, they know everything," Cade said, chuckling. "Kelly teases her for it but, much as the two of them will pick at each other, I'm happy they're so close. Kelly's been doing great work with getting the Squires used to memorising passages of the Codex. Think they like her because she's only nineteen and doesn't yell like Mischelle. Honestly, she reminds me a bit of Sarah."
"Your pride in her is well placed, then," Arthur said, sitting down on the edge of the bed he and his wife shared, their twins still sound asleep in his arms. "I hope I'll be able to impart the same wisdom Sarah did to me onto Esmerelda and Jasper."
"I suspect you will," Cade reassuringly replied. "They have two good, proper role models in their lives already. Though I know work is likely the last thing on your mind right now – as it well should be – I thought you ought to know Dr. Li and Jacq are sorting through Prime's pieces. Seems we missed a lot."
"I'd like a report on that relatively soon, but I'm glad they finally understand why we have done what we have for them," Arthur said, frowning. "Now their cooperation on the project is guaranteed, I made sure to let Kells, Ingram, and Teagan know they are not allowed to be physically harmed nor threatened now. I was correct on needing to put Dr. Li in her place, much as I wish I hadn't needed to. I only hope she's wrong, about me and 'Rissa."
"In saying she worries for the 'sake of your children being raised to think this is acceptable?'" Cade said, disgusted. "She's quite wrong. I can tell from speaking to and seeing how much you care for them in the way you hold them alone that she's wrong. You've been asked to make some of the most difficult decisions in the world, and you're doing them to save the people of this Commonwealth from themselves and the Institute. No, Dr. Li may be a brilliant scientist but she – forgive my language – can't choose her friends for shit and, besides, seeing as she is not, has never been, and never will be a parent? No. She has no idea what she's talking about with this, and she never will."
Goodneighbour
February the 19th, 2289
22:19
"How are you feeling?" MacCready said, walking around the couch to loosely wrap another blanket around Annette. "I know Amari said you're fine now, but…"
"I feel…mostly better," Annette said quietly, looking down at her hands when he sat down across from her. "But…it hasn't been pretty. It has been a long time since I've felt so…frightened."
Three days. It had been three days since Dr. Rebecca Madeline Amari, after running test after test and carefully monitoring her vitals, having only regained consciousness a little over two weeks before, decided Dr. Annette Christine Davis was well enough to leave the Memory Den and go back to recover at home. February the 5th. It had been February the 5th when she had finally regained consciousness for the first time. And he…Bobby was there beside me. Seeing me, after Amari realised…the first thing he did was try to hold me. I…I can't believe it. Her red reading glasses beginning to fog up, she felt sick when she realised she was starting to cry, trying to calm herself when, more worried than he wanted to say, Robert Joseph MacCready did not hesitate to move closer to her, reassuringly resting his hands over hers. She slowly managed to calm herself again after closing her eyes, for a few seconds. Relieved when she seemed to ease, albeit just a little, MacCready kept his hands on hers, slipping one under hers to hold both of hers tightly in his. Thank God Duncan understands why I wanted her to come here and stay with us, even if only for a little while. Leaving her alone after all this…it's not right. He only briefly startled when he heard a bit of noise coming from down the hall, relaxing when he saw it was only Duncan, still half asleep, getting up to use the bathroom. When he saw his little boy go back to his room and, based on the way he was still rubbing his eyes, fall back asleep shortly thereafter, MacCready let out a sigh of relief and, feeling her start shaking, reached over to reassuringly rest one of his hands gently over Annette's right cheek.
"I'm so glad you're alright," He finally said, squeezing her hands. "I can't…I wish I had been there. For both you and Duncan. What happened was –"
"How much do you already know?" Annette said, trembling even when he delicately wrapped his arms around her. "About what happened?"
"A lot, I think. A few hours after you…after Amari and Irma got you stabilised, I talked to Duncan," MacCready said, his chest heavy with each word he spoke. "He told me he didn't want you to die because you saved his life, and, when I asked him what happened, he…he said the door to the apartment was opened by two…bad men. He said he asked you to just keep him hidden. When you told him to go hide in his closet, he went into it and then into part of the wall he'd been pulling up and snuck through the walls into Daisy's apartment before sneaking into the Old State House to get Hancock."
Annette paled. "Oh dear God. How much did he…did he hear?"
"He heard them…" MacCready went silent, anger bubbling to the forefront of his mind. "He said heard them start yelling at you to tell them where he was, and you trying to get them out, asking them who the hell they were. I…I thought it couldn't get worse until he told me their names. Vincent Winlock and Stephen Barnes."
"Yes, I…" Annette said, her voice unsteady. "I ran to your bedroom, hoping to find a gun in there but I couldn't. All I could find was a knife but…it didn't end up being much of a fight. They took it with them before…before Winlock took out one of his own and…"
"Netta, it's alright, shhhhh…" MacCready said, shifting to hold her as tightly as he could when she broke down, weeping into him, her hands clutching onto his shirt for dear life. "You're safe now. I promise. Whatever you need, I'm right here, and I'm not going anywhere."
"They wanted to poison him," Annette sobbed, feeling sick at the thought. "But they couldn't…they kept...they wanted to…they said they needed to make you pay, and I…I thought I could…they were…"
"Annette, doll, you're both alright," MacCready gently said, helping her all the way up onto the couch, her entire body trembling, to let her lay her head on his chest. "This isn't your fault."
"I should have been able to protect him…" She barely got out. "He's your entire world, and –"
"Dr. Davis, please, listen to me," MacCready sighed when she looked up at him and softened his voice. "You did keep him safe, and it's the second time you've saved his life. The only thing I'm upset about is the fact those two ass…the fact Winlock and Barnes almost killed you and it was because of me. Annette, please, if nothing else, at least know I'm damn relieved you're safe and so is Duncan. He's my little boy…and you're my wonderful girlfriend."
Annette weakly nodded. "I just wish I could have been less…weak, Bobby. I don't know what's wrong with me. I don't."
"Netta, look, I…" MacCready hesitated, holding her steady while she cried. "I don't usually go around saying stuff like this, but you've been pretty clear with me, so I'm going to be clear with you. I know it's been a little less than a year since we met, before we started seeing each other, but…damn it, Annette, I love you, and I wish I could have kept you safe from them. Both you and Duncan."
"I'm surprised to hear you say that," Annette quietly spoke, tugging off and folding up her glasses. "But I'm happy you…Bobby, I…I love you too."
"And I have two people to protect, now," He said, affectionately brushing his fingers through her long hair. "My son, and you."
"Is he going to be alright?" She fell silent. "With me being the…with me being here even though his mother is…even though she –"
"He likes having you around, don't worry," MacCready softly assured her. "And, while he knows as well as anyone does how I miss Lucy to death, he knows I have to go on. I have. I sure as hell didn't expect to meet you but, more than I can say, I'm glad I did. Not just for him, but for me as well. You're lovely, Annette. Maybe not to everyone or even to most people, but you are to me and with Duncan, which is all I care about."
"Well alright, then," Annette said with a faint smile, setting her glasses aside on the other end of the couch. "If what happened wasn't my fault," She quietly began, blinking back more tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. "Then it wasn't yours either."
"And they won't bother you or us again," MacCready said, pausing a moment. I can't scare her, it's all too recent but, somehow, they're going to pay for this. Trying to get enough caps together to buy them out isn't going to happen. Not now they've tried to kill her, and not now they've tried to kill Duncan. "They may have a small army of gunners with them at all times, but they won't try this again. I'll make sure of it, doll. I promise."
"Just don't put yourself in danger," Annette whispered, desperately holding onto him again. "They're less of a threat to you, at least, you could handle them but I don't…I don't want you to be in danger."
"I know, and I'll find a way to deal with this. Safely," MacCready calmly replied, relieved when she relaxed a little, resting her head on his chest. "For both your sakes. I've been beginning to realise how much I missed having someone I could depend on, and I...just want you to know I'm going to do everything I can to see that it stays this way."
"Good," Annette said, her breathing more steady. Maybe…maybe Amata was wrong after all. "I don't want anything more. I'm…well, I'm relieved to still be alive and…and relieved to hear I'm not the only one who has fallen here. When…when did you realise…"
"I can't remember," MacCready said, kissing her gently when she glanced up at him again. "It doesn't matter to me. I'm happy enough to know I wasn't imagining things, thinking you cared about me a lot more than I was ready to hope for. When did you?"
"When I came to and the first thing I felt, when Amari stepped away, was you wrapping your arms tightly around me," Annette said with a light smile. "You…you cared about me enough to fight for me to stay alive. I could never think of anything more romantic than that."
"And there you go again, being an absolute sweetheart," MacCready said, lightly kissing her cheek. "I…I know you're still not feeling well. If it's better for you, then, I promise, it's not a burden at all for you to keep staying here. Honestly, I…I like knowing you're safe."
"So long as you have a few extra blankets for me to sleep here, then…of course," Annette paused when he shook his head. "It was a little cold last night," She said nervously. "I –"
"No, Netta, it's…" MacCready sighed, standing up and offering her his hands to help her to her feet. "I'll sleep on the couch before I let you sleep there again. Please…come sleep next to me."
Annette hesitated. "You're sure you don't mind, Bobby?"
"I don't mind you being here with me at all," MacCready gently assured her. "I'm just glad you're safe."
"Alright," She said, leaning into him a little when he tightly wrapped an arm around her. "You're a good man, you know. Duncan certainly thinks so."
MacCready smiled. "I'm proud to have such a resilient kid as my son," He said before softly kissing her. "And happy to have you safe, here in my arms."
University Point
February the 27th, 2289
11:02
"What? Why didn't you send word that –"
"The Brotherhood could be watching our every move, intercepted it, come back to kill me or…or worse!"
Always a bit of a paranoid man, seeing the General of the Minutemen and several of the General's closest colleagues march into town had nearly given Gerald Spencer a panic attack, expecting a confrontation between them and the Brotherhood or, worse, them and the Institute. Realising they had come worried for not only their people but the entire town eased those fears for no more than a few minutes. Not wanting to attempt to explain anything himself, Mayor Bartholomew Strickland had escorted the General and his right hand man up to the man's apartment, merely shaking his head when he was greeted by Gerald nearly throwing the door back shut in his face. Even now having, through very quick and shallow breaths, told them the shortest explanation of why no one from the town was communicating either in or out, Gerald still could not find any sense of calm. Instead, still frightened by the possibility of the Brotherhood listening or watching his every move, he ran through his apartment yanking down the window shades and upending anything he could think of upon which a recording device could be hidden. When he finally came back to the main room of the apartment, he went over to the stove and lit a few candles, refusing still to turn on the lights.
"The…the Institute waited until almost the end of December before telling us what happened or, I guess, what really happened," Gerald said, his hands wrapping around the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles turned white. "I thought they just decided to not let me have my visit with Jacq for some reason or another and I'd see her or at the very least Dr. Li soon enough and no one else was particularly worried. Martha and Perry were damn slapped silly happy not to see them."
"They waited over a month before telling you what happened to your daughter?" Derek said, horrified. "Did they at least tell you why they waited so long?"
"Said they were 'making sure we know the facts,' as if I cared about the specifics," Gerald's voice shook almost as badly as the rest of his body. "When they finally decided to tell me what the hell was going on, they sent one of their other 'Division Heads' who's a scary cold bitch but better than the asshole she replaced, from what Jacq's said anyways. You know what she says? All she says is 'the Brotherhood abducted Dr. Li and Jacqueline the day she was supposed to escort Jacqueline for her visit home.'"
"Sadly, I'm not surprised the Brotherhood would be willing to do such a thing," Preston said with a frown. "They really aren't above anything when they decide what they want. Do you know why they took them, by chance?"
"Who cares?" Gerald exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air, nearly snuffing out the candles in the process. "They took them, probably are keeping them chained to the goddamn wall in their airport compound, and the Institute are telling me fuck all about what they're doing to get my daughter home safe! They could at least tell me what they're doing but instead they've claimed it's all 'classified' as if I give a flying fuck about –"
"Mister Spencer, for your own safety, please, calm down," Derek said, waiting a few seconds before gently pulling him away from the candles when Gerald's sleeves nearly caught fire. "As a parent myself, I would be in a state, too, if any of my children were missing, but this isn't productive and panic won't bring her home any sooner."
"Easy for you to say!" He said, still shaking when he sat down on the couch on the other side of the room from the kitchen and, more to the point, its counters upon which the candle flames were still providing the apartment with what little light it had. "You didn't sign a deal with the devil, letting them take your daughter only for them to be unable to keep her safe like they insisted they would!"
"Far be it from me to say I know much of anything about the Institute, but…" Preston shook his head. "I doubt they're doing nothing, if only because the Brotherhood didn't just take your daughter but one of their Division Heads. Dr. Li is one of their Division Heads, isn't she?"
"Leads the 'Advanced Systems' Division, doing all sorts of science shit I could never dream of understanding," Gerald said, quickly wringing his hands in and out of each other. "Doesn't mean shit to me right now. Whatever they're doing or not, they haven't said a word of it to me or anyone else in town. Only good thing is the Brotherhood haven't come back yet. Think I…may have yelled at the town council enough to convince them to take the strategy of staying as low profile as possible. Less people know about what happened and the less people here, the better. I…I really don't want the Brotherhood to think the Institute are building an army here or something like that, not when it could entice them into trying to wipe us all out."
Preston grimaced. "I hate to say it, but I wouldn't –"
A set of knocks at the door, Gerald screamed before the General could finish his thought. He then suddenly clasped his hands over his mouth and tried to calm his breathing, though every breath in and out he took seemed to be heavier than the last. He almost fell over the coffee table when the lock clicked and the doorknob began to turn, scrambling to grab his gun from where it was hidden in a small bureau across the room. Not wanting to take any chances, Derek reached for his shotgun, and Preston aimed his laser musket at the door while it creaked open. They lowered their weapons the second they saw the man standing in the doorway to be the mayor and, behind him, a few people in power armour covered in brightly coloured flames. More than a little exasperated when he saw Gerald's demeanour, Mayor Bartholomew Strickland waved at him to set down his gun which, after a minute, he did. Then, apologising to the woman and two men in power armour behind him, the mayor of University Point ushered them in before slamming the door shut behind him and walking out of the apartment building. Seeing Preston, the first of the two men shortly nodded at him and slid his sunglasses off his face and into his thickly gelled hair while the second of the two men and the woman took a look around, startled by how dark it was in the apartment.
"Didn't expect you'd be here, but I'll never turn down backup," The first of the two men sighed. "We were heading up to Diamond City to see if we could find you guys and get some backup anyways. Heard about what happened from the Warwicks…real nasty business."
"Sums it up pretty well, Zeke," Preston grimly replied. "You said you were looking to get backup from us? Take it you have a plan to rescue –"
"Got a few plans, actually," He said, awkwardly looking over at Gerald. "The name's Zeke. I'm the coolest Cat in the Atom Cats, and Rowdy and Bluejay here are going to help you get your daughter and her mother back, too."
Gerald nervously laughed. "Roger smoking too many joints again? Jacq's mother died over a decade ago and, with all due respect to the woman, I think I'd rather kill myself than have to marry Dr. Li."
"She's not that bad," Derek said, a bit amused. "Although I don't get the sense she's particularly interested in anyone, so you shouldn't have to worry."
"Doesn't matter if she's the girl's mother or not," Rowdy said, rolling her eyes. "No one deserves to be snatched though I'm surprised, since Roger said they're real brainy, they got snatched by the Brotherhood and not the Institute."
"Who cares who 'snatched' them?" Gerald snapped, uneasy at her words. "All I care about is – if no one else – Jacq gets back here and gets back here alive. Dr. Li's been her mentor for several years now, and I have no ill will towards her, but Jacq is the priority. Do you understand me?"
"And we'll get to work on getting them safely back here as soon as possible," Preston assured him, sharing a brief but knowing look with Derek. "Let Sturges know, when we're done here, to call off surveying and planning to retake the Castle for now. This is more important. Two people's lives are in the balance, and I don't trust the 'good intentions' of the Brotherhood to last, if they were ever there to begin with."
"You don't got good intentions if you act like this," Bluejay said irritably. "This is sick, and not in a positive way," He turned to Gerald. "We know a decent bit about the Brotherhood's airport base. Spent a few months irritating them by playing loud music and rounds of paintball on it. Give us some time to figure out where they're hiding your daughter and the good doctor, and then we'll get right to hatching how we'll get them back."
"Then go start doing that," Gerald said, pointing them all towards the door. "Don't waste a damn second. My daughter could be being tortured for all I know, and I'm tired of not having a single shred of hope of getting her back safe so don't even think about wasting time because, if you do and something happens to her, I will haunt you when I die."