The Commonwealth
March the 7th, 2289
16:13
Run.
It was the only word she heard spoken to her when chaos erupted.
Run.
Feeling as though her lungs might burst out of her chest and her body collapse into the ground, seventeen year old Jacqueline Rose Spencer ran, fast as she could, after her mentor, who had grabbed her by the arm and told her to run with her towards a man in mechanic's overalls, a hefty toolbelt around his waist, and welding goggles draped around his neck. He might as well have, so far as the seventeen year old was concerned, come out of nowhere less than a minute after heavy gunfire began ringing out on the tarmac drew the Brotherhood soldiers escorting them throughout the facility away. The closer they got to him, where he was waiting halfway behind the door leading into one of the four former passenger terminals with a gun at the ready, the harder she ran, looking frantically around to make sure they were not being followed and to make sure she had not lost sight of her mentor. She grabbed onto her wrist the second they reached the man at the door. He spoke quickly with her mentor in hushed tones before waving at the both of them to go with him. Jacqueline tightened her hand around her mentor's, only letting go when, with a pointed but worried look, Dr. Madison Li gently pried her hand off from around her wrist. Wrapping her arms tightly around herself, Jacqueline kept running. Each breath felt worse than the last. She kept running. The sounds of shouting, gunfire, and almost painfully loud music cloyed at her senses, fear rising in her every time the noise seemed to be getting ever closer to them.
She kept running.
Had there not been urgent necessity driving them to get as far away from where they were as possible, Jacqueline realised, the longer they ran through the remains of the pre-War passenger terminal, there was so much history left behind to explore, even if marred and damaged by over two centuries of destruction and decay. It was only when, nearly to another set of doors leading out of the terminal and onto an overgrown road, she looked up and saw a large American flag, still mostly intact, hanging down from the terminal entrance, just in front of a sign reading Terminal A, she paused. Hearing her footsteps falter behind them, Dr. Madison Li and Sturges Presley turned back to help her, seeing the teenager shaking badly and struggling still to catch her breath. Terrified and expecting to see Brotherhood soldiers waiting for them the second they stepped through the doors, Jacqueline let out a gasp of relief to find none, realising they had made it well past where the Brotherhood's largest and primary operations were being run behind the old passenger terminals, roads, and parking garages. She kept running, only slowing her pace when she could no longer sustain it and, startled, when they turned onto another road with a sign on it with an arrow and the words To Route 1A at which another man was waiting, one, too, whom her mentor seemed to recognise.
"Best route out of here goes through the old community park on Bremen Street, and, to make sure they don't follow us, down to Trenton Street and then north past the East Boston Police Department onto Chelsea Street. We can snake our way down to University Point, passing through Bunker Hill, from there," He said, politely tipping his hat at Jacqueline. "Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. We can talk more once you and Dr. Li are safely out of here. Just stick with her, me, and Sturges, and we'll be out soon enough."
Shakily nodding, Jacqueline began running again, focusing on her mentor and the two men. Pace after pace and pace and pace again. The industrial, cold façade of the former airport slowly became all the more distant around them. She barely stopped herself from screaming when she saw a vertibird fly overhead, only to start crying in slight relief when it did not seem to notice them. A hand suddenly grabbed hers and she almost screamed again only to feel silly about it when she realised the hand taking hers and tugging her along was her mentor's. Crossing onto an old interstate highway, the four of them began weaving in and out of wrecked and rusted out cars, trucks, and tractor trailers. When she took a panicked look back upon hearing footsteps running towards them, Jacqueline briefly paused, confused to see a woman in a black leather jacket with a large weapon in her hands and a rather large gun and ammunition case strapped to her back. She began to run with them, hurriedly saying something to the man called Preston, and stayed behind them a couple of metres, weapons at the ready, seemingly attempting to ensure they were not being chased. The clamour of the gunfire, shouts, and music which, it occurred to her, were from a mismatch of musical stage shows, grew farther and farther away. Passing onto a strip of green earth, trees, and shrubbery lined with streetlamps and paths, an interstate highway overpass visible in the distance, things began to feel a little better. The noise was abating. Their paces were slowing. Breathing was becoming a little easier with the lightening of their paces.
They kept running.
After minutes which felt like hours, they reached and began to snake their way through the old urban streets of what had once been a bustling metropolis. Down one street, up another. The occasional sounds of shouting and gunfire rang out but far more in the distance or, at least, more than evidently not coming from anyone associated with their abductors still at the airport. The airport. Looking back and expecting to be able to see it in the distance, Jacqueline felt relief begin to wash over her in waves when she realised it was becoming harder and harder to see. When it could no longer be seen through the buildings lining the streets, each one seemingly taller than the last, their paces slowed again and, turning another corner, they found a third man waiting for them. It was then, when Jacqueline felt her mentor's footsteps falter, she let go of her, confused by the look on her face when they approached the man, who was tall, pale, and had slightly curly greying dark hair and glasses. Anxiety gnawing at her again when she heard the sounds and the fury of a few angry shouts and gunfire well in the distance, the seventeen year old wrapped her arms tightly around herself again and stayed close to her mentor as she approached him. She let out a startled yelp when a hand lightly fell onto her shoulder, but relaxed, albeit only a little, when she saw it was the free hand of the leather clad woman, large gun still on her back and the large weapon in her other hand, holding it against her hip. Now able to take a closer look at it whilst they briskly walked, Jacqueline realised it was a flame thrower.
"Where did you get that?" She nervously asked, keeping her voice low. "Is it…"
"Is it a flame thrower?" The woman winked. "Fuck yeah it is. Got to test it on some of those Brotherhood nosebleeds. She works pretty well, if I do say so myself as her creator."
"You made it?" Jacqueline said, her eyes widening in surprise. "It looks amazing."
"She's made me tons of useful experimental weapons over the years," The man in mechanic's overalls told her, waving her, Dr. Li, and the woman with the flame thrower with him and the other two men onto another street, heading north. "She and her gang might be an odd crew, but they're good people."
"You mean the cat's meow," The woman half heartedly corrected with a laugh. "We're the Atom Cats, after all. Why else would I have felt the need to make my flame thrower stand out by painting it hot pink? Other than thinking it looks nice, of course."
"Small talk aside, I appreciate you…helping us," Madison said, her lips flattening into a thin line when she looked between her and the three men. "How did you know where we were or, more to the point, that we needed a way out?"
"Roger Warwick," The woman replied, letting Jacqueline go. "Said you and your daughter here had been kidnapped. Though her father insists you're not her mother, told us, even, he'd rather kill himself than marry you."
"She's not my mom," Jacqueline uncomfortably confirmed. "More like –"
"I've been training her in mechanical and nuclear engineering," Madison said quickly, setting her hands to Jacqueline's shoulders to reassure her. "She has a proclivity for it."
"Well, we're just glad we were able to get you out of there. From what we heard," The man called Preston shook his head. "I didn't trust in the good intentions of the Brotherhood before, but I absolutely don't now. Are the two of you alright? Do you need a bit of a break?"
Madison sighed. "So much as I'd like one, the longer we keep her here, the more danger she's in. The sooner we're back at University Point, the better."
"Can't argue with that," Preston morosely said, pausing upon seeing a vaguely familiar and intense, rigid man leaning against the doors into the former East Boston Police Station. "Who is –"
"X6-88?" Jacqueline called out, all but clutching onto her mentor in relief when the man responded to that name and approached them. "We're safe," She mumbled. "We're really safe."
"Dr. Li, I have been asked to return you and Miss Spencer safely…home," He said, pausing and seemingly choosing his words carefully. "I'll admit it," He said, turning to the three men and the woman with the flame thrower. "Even upon hearing our watchers had made note of your attempt to rescue Dr. Li and Miss Spencer, I didn't think it would actually work. You will be rewarded for your service. Now, you are free to go. I will take over from here."
Preston hesitated, glancing between Madison and Jacqueline.
"You're sure you'll be alright with just him?"
"Yes. Thank you, Mister Garvey, Mister…Sturges, isn't it? Thank you for getting us out of that hell, but, Derek…" She said, turning to the tall bespectacled man. "Why are you here and putting your neck on the line for me, after what happened with –"
"Because you're a good person, Madison," He calmly replied before they awkwardly embraced. "And, just as much, no one deserves what they did to you and Jacqueline. Taking people for their own…I had really thought they were above such a thing."
"The Brotherhood are learning their lesson," X6-88 said with a sly, sinister smile. "You are more capable than you seem. Now, please leave. I would prefer not to have any distractions."
"Thank you for saving us!" Jacqueline suddenly hugged Sturges, then Preston, and finally Derek before all but latching onto her mentor again. "I…I really thought we might die there."
"Just glad you're safe now," Preston kindly replied. "Have a safe trip home."
"We will," Madison said with one last, faint smile at Derek. "And a swift one."
"Good," Derek said, shaking X6-88's hand after the man realised why he had it extended towards him. "All of you, take care."
X6-88 smirked. "I can assure you," He said with a light, approving tone to his voice. "Doing so will not be an issue now you have successfully carried out your mission."
The Prydwen
March the 15th, 2289
8:02
"This is completely unacceptable! If in the course of our investigation we learn any members of the Brotherhood aided and abetted Madison Li in this…escape, I will show them what happens to traitors."
A week and a day. A week and a day, and no one in the upper leadership of the East Coast Brotherhood Of Steel had an answer for how the good doctor and her protégé slipped out of their grasp, away from the former Boston Logan International Airport and their monitoring. In some ways, it perhaps did not matter how. What had facilitated their escape was bad enough, and the damage severe and unacceptable. A full vertibird lost, torched and so heavily shot at one of the wings broke off, killing two of the Knights attempting to stave off the gang who had, for the third and most aggressive time, interfered with military operations. His hands clenching furiously around the railing wrapped halfway around the Prydwen's command deck, all but one with the glass windows it was hinged on, Elder Arthur Jonathan Maxson appraised the damage still left to be dealt with. Part of the gantry for the reconstruction of Liberty Prime had been shot down, taking about a third of the entire structure down with it. Stains from paintballs were littered everywhere. Several suits of power armour had been either severely damaged or completely destroyed. Then, there were the casualties. Ten Brotherhood soldiers dead, three of them Knights, four of them Scribes, and three were Initiates or Aspirants, and all dead from a surprise attack by a belligerent group of power armour aficionados who lived in, of all places, a former truck stop.
"Good, Knight Captain, you've arrived," Kells said, inclining his head towards Maxson whilst the Elder went to take his seat at the head of the table. "We can now begin today's meeting."
"Yes, we can, and what we have to discuss is truly disturbing," Maxson said, looking between his Lancer Captain, Proctors, and most senior medical officer. "The damage assessment uncovered more substantial destruction than we had initially thought in the aftermath of the attack. Is that accurate, Proctor Ingram?"
"It is," She said with a short nod. "We were, however, able to recover the DNA of three of the gang – calling themselves the 'Atom Cats' – leaders," She paused, watching him pull up the profiles on a tablet. "The first man goes by 'Zeke' but his real name, from what was uncovered in Proctor Quinlan's inquiry of locals in the area, is Zachery Maxwell Carter."
"The other man, who has the moniker 'Bluejay' is Brandon Kyle Harris," Quinlan put in, a cold frown on his face. "As for the woman, though she is referred to as 'Rowdy,' her real name is Demetria Ashley Weatherly. Given her behaviour, her moniker might as well be her real name."
"She was one of the people responsible for torching the vertibird under maintenance on the helicopter pad atop one of the former airport's warehouses, wasn't she?" Teagan said, his gaze darkening when Ingram nodded. "Of all of them, I think she might have done the most damage for being the one leading the destruction of the vertibird. Destruction, too, which killed two of our Knights."
"She was also gone within no more than half an hour from the start of their assault on our base," Quinlan noted. "Though we did manage to eject them from the premises after about three hours, they were shockingly aggressive and, not only that, by all appearances highly motivated."
"Their aggression and motivation are what I find most concerning," Maxson said, irritation edging into his voice. "Considering their apparent prowess with weaponry and power armour, I suspect they may be connected, in some manner, to the Institute. As for what we know about them beyond speculation, were we able to get DNA samples from any of the others?"
"Just their three apparent leaders, unfortunately," Quinlan said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "We got DNA samples from the woman 'Rowdy' because, in the about half hour she was on the premises, she seemed to be convinced she was an old western cowboy. Perhaps that's why she chose a flame thrower as her weapon of choice. Why she painted it pink is beyond me. Regardless, she spit into nearly every bucket, which is how we obtained her DNA. The man 'Zeke' cut himself quite badly while assisting the woman 'Rowdy' in torching and destroying the vertibird. As for the man 'Bluejay,' we obtained that because he spit in my face like a petulant child."
"Gross and inappropriate as it was, we did get exceptionally lucky to get any of their DNA on file," Cade said, shaking his head. "It will make it easier to identify them if they attempt to breach the base again."
"Yes, as will getting a proper surveillance system operational," Quinlan said, annoyed at the reminder. "I made quite the mistake in not ordering for one to be created and rigged immediately after our arrival in the Commonwealth last June, a mistake I will not be making again. Unfortunately, I think I speak for all of us when I say I was far too used to the security and surveillance systems of the Citadel, which had been kept running, maintained, and improved over the last two hundred years. I thought our DNA and retinal scans would be more than sufficient. Apparently not."
"To go from a base as well established as the Citadel or, even, the former Washington Dulles International Airport to here has been a massive undertaking," Maxson calmly reminded him. "Our mission in the Commonwealth and, admittedly, our attempts to identify and bring back our lost Brothers and Sisters took priority, as did the practical difficulties in establishing our base of operations here."
"The locals – these 'Atom Cats' included – have been less cooperative or understanding than we hoped, too," Teagan said, frowning. "Their initial interference in our operations, while significant and aggravating, were at least only a nuisance and not a real threat. Using half of the former airport to create an arena for paintball and capture the flag? A nuisance. Provoking local farmers into shooting at our soldiers? That was disturbingly brazen. Their attack on our base, whether or not they knew about and intended to facilitate Dr. Li's treason? It was somehow worse."
"Seeing as they destroyed a vertibird, a third of the gantry, and killed several of our soldiers, I'd agree it was worse than them having a fifty something year old woman take out a gun and shoot at the feet of one of our Knights," Ingram irritably sighed. "Still, I would be a lot more surprised to find out the Institute had a hand in this than I would be to find out this gang did it out of boredom or because they thought it would be fun. The Institute have the capacity, I'm sure, to have brought Dr. Li and her protégé back on their own. If they can create the synths, I don't think they have a lot of – if any – real limits to their capacities."
"You think the Institute wanted them to suffer?" Quinlan said, pausing in consideration. "If they were attempting to test their loyalty, then it certainly played out in their favour, seeing as I sincerely doubt Dr. Li and her protégé are not back in the hands of the Institute. I don't see how being under our protection was suffering, however. Their quality of life was as good as ours, and they were working on the single greatest achievement of Dr. Li's life. I will say, as Elder Maxson made quite clear the day of the attack, her treason still baffles me. What could she possibly have to gain from it?"
"Her own self importance," Kells said flatly. "She could not comprehend how grossly disrespectful her behaviour was until she was threatened, and with an empty threat at that."
"Absolutely. Even after, the things she said, when they were personal, were completely uncalled for. It was hard to listen to," Cade said, glancing at Maxson who looked considerably tense. "But I don't think there was anything we could have done to stop her. If we had let Quinlan bring her up on charges for everything she said either to Elder Lyons, then, or Elder Maxson, now, she wouldn't get anything done."
"No, she wouldn't have," Maxson curtly agreed. "At the very least, we should still have a great deal to work with from what she and her protégé had been working on with Liberty Prime."
"That remains to be seen," Ingram warned him. "There's a decent chance the 'Atom Cats' damaged more than just the gantry, and, 'charming' as she can be, not having Dr. Li here to work on Liberty Prime herself will set us back significantly. We're going to have to find someone – most likely a team of people – in the Commonwealth who can give us what Dr. Li would have. We'll also have to make as many strategic modifications as we can. Her returning to the Institute with knowledge of what Prime is supposed to be capable of now and not only what Prime was capable of when we last used it in September 2279 will likely come back to bite us in the ass."
"Pleasant thought, Mischelle," Quinlan pursed his lips. "But, nevertheless, apt. I suppose it's now another thing to add to the growing list of matters I need to address. Research patrols are going to have to continue to be diverted to do reconnaissance, including on these 'Atom Cats' to conclude whether or not their technological prowess is due to them working with the Institute, several patrols will have to be cancelled in order to develop, install, and manage a robust surveillance system beyond our DNA and retinal scans, the new logistical and physical issues with Liberty Prime, and, then, there's the absolute mechanical menace we had to put down just last night."
"This 'Mechanist' seems at least to know their way around robots," Teagan said, looking vaguely amused. "But I concur with your initial assessment of them after our soldiers made short work of their robots, considering they were all but junk robots. This 'Mechanist' is a separate issue from some of the strangely belligerent locals, and the Institute. As you said, Marshall – the Institute are too arrogant and proud of their own technological prowess to create junky, janky robots. I still, however, think the matter should be investigated."
"It should, and by a small, expert team already familiar with the Commonwealth," Quinlan said, adjusting his glasses. "To that end, I believe Paladin Danse and, under his charge, Knight Rhys and Scribe Haylen could do so not only well but with utter thoroughness and, in the best case, swiftness. It would take them away from the police station again, but I don't believe they need to be there for things to run as normal. Not anymore, at any rate."
"Paladin Danse, Rhys, and Haylen do work incredibly well together," Maxson said, taking a minute in consideration. "Send them the initial orders to investigate. If something worth reporting comes of it, instruct Paladin Danse to come to the Prydwen to discuss the matter with us directly. We'll decide the length of or means of continuing the operation at that time. This is a much worse position than any of us anticipated being in, and, now the dust is finally settling on the fiasco, we should be able to properly recalibrate, with or without LI-119K."
Railroad Headquarters
March the 21st, 2289
17:11
"The last confirmed sighting of a Courser we received was from about six months ago. The location was at one of the offices of the former Bureau Of Alcohol, Drugs, Tobacco, Firearms, And Lasers. We had to change our routes to avoid it for about two months, just to be safe, and haven't had any reports of Courser activity since. But, if the method the former Institute scientist told you about works, you shouldn't have to rely on previous sightings."
The crypt a little damp and cold, Nora Jacqueline Norwich zipped up her jacket and tucked her arms under each other, following the Railroad's second in command down into his organisation's headquarters. Cait beside her, the former lawyer managed a small smile when she wrapped an arm around her. Himself a little uneasy, detective Nicholas Julius Valentine carefully descended into the main room of the old crypt, holding his hat and crouching a few times to avoid bumping his head on the low, sloped ceiling hanging over the steep stairs. He let out a quiet sigh of relief when the room opened up and he could stand and walk normally with ease. Why the Institute made me six feet and five inches is beyond me. Better than the first generation synths that are around seven feet tall, though, I suppose. He tipped his hat at Deacon when the enigmatic agent waved at him. His otherwise calm mood began to wane, however, when the aged detective saw the contemptuous way Nora and Cait looked at Glory, and Glory at them. He stepped out of the way when Glory stormed past him, muttering to herself with a gun in hand, and heading back towards the small practise range. Seeing the tired face of the Railroad's leader as she walked out from inside the mainframe room no less than a minute after the former Courser, and that neither Nora nor Cait seemed particularly agitated, he tried to write the woman's mood off, tipping his hat towards Desdemona when she was no more than a metre away from him.
"Hope the prototype we recovered for you has been useful," The aged detective said, waiting a minute before, following suit with her and the others, sitting down at the large centre table. "Going up against the Institute, I'm sure you need as many legs up as you can get. They certainly have quite the unfair advantage."
"True," Nora said, irritation slipping into her voice when her eyes met Desdemona's. "But it's been well over a month since we put it back in your hands, and you still won't tell us what the hell it's for or what it does. We risked our lives for you to get the damn prototype, and you aren't making much progress on helping me get into the Institute. I think we've got more than just a little bit of a right to know what it is and what it does."
"You very much do not," Carrington informed her, matching her tone whilst taking his seat at the table. "All you need to know is I required it back to continue a few parts of my research, and it ending up in the Institute's hands would have been a significant problem for us because it would reveal some of our capabilities."
"As you saw, too, the Institute found us once and compromised our security. Risking them learning about some of the technology we have access to or develop could further endanger us," Desdemona pointedly added before the former lawyer could protest. "As for the progress we've made on getting you into the Institute, much of that depends on being able to not only completely decipher the plans – which are hard enough to read as it is – but on your acquiring a Courser chip, a matter we've been deliberating on for several weeks, now."
"For their own safety, sending Nora, Cait, and Nick after one alone could be a death sentence, and completely unfair of us," Hadley told her, pushing her glasses up with one hand and, shakily, tapping excess ash off of her cig before sitting down with all of them except Glory. "And, really, it shouldn't have taken this long to decide to help her find a Courser to kill, Des, especially not with her son's life hanging in the balance because of the Institute."
"Taking the time we did was necessary, and I have no intention of arguing about it. We did what we had to, and we will continue to do so," Desdemona shook her head, turning to Nora. "You're not one of us. As such, we can't prioritise you over the lives, wellbeing and rights of hundreds – maybe even thousands – of synths. We agreed to help you, and we will, but your impatience is not useful to us in the slightest."
"It's also making Glory wanting to and, fucking hell, even trying to drag things out to make a point. Some kind of revenge, almost," Deacon said, taking off his sunglasses. "Look, Nora, I get it. You're tired, frustrated, and angry but those feelings are because of the Institute, not us."
"Pretty sure some of 'em are because of you," Cait darkly remarked. "I've certainly had some fantasises of fighting some of you off. Especially after hearing you all pointed your weapons at Nora, Nicky, and Piper just to intimidate them."
Deacon shrugged. "Des and Glory had make sure they weren't a threat somehow. Although Des kind of already knew Piper wasn't, what with Piper being Lay's daughter in law and all."
"Good to know 'making sure someone's not a threat' means threatening them to you," Nora said, a sarcastic edge to her voice. "If you treat all of your new recruits or, fuck, even people like us this way, you're not going to be particularly persuasive."
"I can be," Deacon said, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I like to have fun with the new recruits, sometimes. Luckily for you three, you're not being initiated into our organisation. You want in on a secret, though? I'm going to try and convince the next raw recruits I'm actually President Eden. Think I can pull it off?"
Nora frowned. "President Eden?" She repeated. "Who is –"
"Calls, or, at least, called would be a better word seeing as he's dead, himself the President Of The United States," Deacon said, not noticing that Hadley had paled upon hearing the name and her shaky hands looked shakier. "The Enclave!" He declared, attempting to mimic the man's voice. "Rebuilding America's future, today! God bless the Enclave! God bless America!"
"Enough, Deacon," Hadley suddenly snapped, nearly dropping her cigarette on herself when she stood up. "That is absolutely not funny. Do you even know who –"
"Are…" Nora hesitated before stepping over to the shaking mother of four, setting her hands gently to the petite woman's shoulders when she realised she was trying to calm her breathing, her chest rising and falling rapidly. "Are you alright?"
"I…" Hadley fell unusually silent, her glasses clouding as she blinked back tears. "If you must know," She said quietly, her body shaking "I...I've lived most of my life in fear of Eden, his government, and the Enclave; my father even had to…had to retire from service in the Brotherhood after being badly injured in a battle between the Brotherhood and the Enclave."
"Shite…" Cait said, grimacing. "That don't sound too good."
"Honestly, we were lucky the Brotherhood kept them from ever crossing into Virginia, where I grew up and…and where my children were born after I met Derek, shortly after he joined the Brotherhood after leaving where he was from in Chicago," She sighed. "We only left to move to Rivet City when May was a teenager so we could be closer to the Citadel. So they could see their father more when he came back from deployments. Hell it's…has it really been just shy of a decade since the Enclave finally fell?"
"If I'm remembering correctly, yes," Nick said, taking his hat off and bowing his head. "I was asked to find someone down in the former Capital the year after, in 2280. To say people were relieved to have them gone would be an understatement. The person I was looking for had unfortunately died shortly after they arrived, accidentally drowned in the Potomac. But I will say, much as I dislike the Brotherhood being here in the Commonwealth, I won't deny they've done some serious good. Fending off the Enclave for over two centuries couldn't have been easy, let alone eventually managing to defeat them."
"Doesn't matter what they did then," Glory stubbornly said, turning around to face them. "They're barely any better than the Institute are."
"Hard not to agree," Deacon said, leaning back in his seat a little, arms behind his head. "At least with the way they're acting here."
Hadley warily glanced at him. "How the hell do you even know who Eden was, let alone enough to mimic his voice?"
"Went down to the Capital Wasteland for fun in June of 2267 when I was eighteen," Deacon shrugged. "I thought the 'Enclave' were kind of funny, couldn't take anything seriously. Didn't actually know they were a real threat until a few years back. I mean, America has been dead for centuries, why would anyone call themselves the US President? How could anyone take that seriously?"
"Because of their resources, because of the violence they inflicted on just about everything and everyone that had a pulse, because they killed far too many good people for their defeat after two hundred and two years to feel truly satisfying?" Hadley said, anger snatching her voice. "The Enclave destroyed lives for no other reason than because they could! I don't care how ridiculous the way they acted could be, nothing to do with them is funny or should be joked about, Deacon! As for you, Glory, while I won't deny the Brotherhood have lost their way, to say they're barely any better than the Institute is a gross mischaracterisation, and –"
"We're getting off track, Hadley, please, calm down," Desdemona said, worriedly eyeing Hadley until, after a few minutes, she calmed down and, with Nora's help, shakily sat back down. "As I said, we're working the best we can with the plans you brought us from the former Institute scientist," She eventually said with a pointed look at Nora and Cait. "But we need you to cooperate with us, too. Even if you were able to get your hands on a Courser chip on your own, you would still need us and, specifically, Tom to decode it."
"I'm all too well aware," Nora bit off. "And I'm happy to work with you if it'll get me to my son, but I'd like some transparency from you. If I have to trust you, then you should trust me."
Glory snorted. "You're making it way too easy to not trust you."
"Funny," Cait quipped, scowling at her. "Could throw that right back in your face."
"You proved yourself to us in recovering my prototype, and the matter does not need to be discussed any further than that," Carrington said with a slightly glib edge in his voice. "Now we've got a better handle on what we're working with for you, we can help you begin planning to track down a Courser. With Deacon and Glory's help, I'm sure it won't be a problem to deal with once you find one."
"I'm sure it won't be," Nora agreed, her eyes narrowing when she saw Glory smirk out of the corners of her eyes. "Just keep her the hell out of my way."
The Institute
March the 26th, 2289
12:17
Normal.
Things were finally back to normal.
To little surprise, when she stepped into the Directorate's primary meeting room, Dr. Madison Brianne Li found she was one of the few there already; only the Director, the Director's father, and Dr. Clayton Caleb Holdren were already sat around the table. When she took her seat, she set down her tablet and the physical notes tucked into a folder she had been carrying. Then, she looked at the time. About ten minutes, and, then, the meeting would begin. Very much relieved to see her mannerisms were the same as always – from the way she sat to the way she began glimpsing over her Division's notes – Dr. Clayton Holdren let out a sigh of relief, much more comfortable with part of his routine, previously disrupted for a few months, returning to normal. Not to mention the good news of her and Miss Spencer not having been too badly injured in their escape, though the psychological trauma will probably persist for… He turned suddenly in his seat towards the door when he heard it open again, and gave Dr. Allison Stacey Filmore a polite nod when she stepped in, soon after followed by Dr. Alana Jennine Secord. No more than two or three minutes later, Dr. Alan Timothy Binet entered, looking to be in a rather good mood. Swiping his ID badge, he closed and locked the doors to the room before joining his colleagues at the table with a faint smile on his face.
"I hope recovery is treating you well, Dr. Li," Alan said when she looked up and primly rested her hands over her notes as she glanced amongst her colleagues. "I can only imagine the toll being held against one's will for just over three months takes on a person."
"Yes, well, I'm perfectly fine now, as is Miss Spencer," Madison shortly replied. "If we could put all of that to rest, I would appreciate it."
"Understood, Dr. Li," Nate said, his voice lightly sympathetic. "I believe we are all simply glad to have the both of you back safely. What the Brotherhood did was truly unconscionable."
"It was but the good news is the plan to bring us back was successful," Madison turned to the Director, who was himself listening attentively. "I hope this meeting is not meant to be another discussion of the ordeal Jacqueline and I were subjected to."
"No, it is not, please do not worry, Dr. Li," Shaun said quickly. "It will be a few weeks, at the very least, before I may need to speak with you and Miss Spencer again on the subject. Other than this week's reports, however, I would like to begin with discussing how we should approach the 'Commonwealth Minutemen,' as they call themselves, going forward, in light of their integral role in your and Miss Spencer's escape."
Madison raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
"Whether or not we should…support them," Shaun said, pausing a moment in consideration. "If the stories unit X6-88, Gerald Spencer, and the observations from our watchers are all correct, then the Minutemen were the ones who facilitated and guided your escape."
"They were," Madison said. "Still, what are you suggesting?"
"I have to concur," Allie put in. "We don't deal much with the people topside apart from at University Point and, even then, it's only a handful of people with whom we deal directly."
"Not to mention they might be a bit…wary to the idea of receiving any kind of support from the Institute," Clayton said, shaking his head. "A lot of people have the wrong impression of us on the surface. With all the accidents in the first and second generation synth programmes, I don't blame them for being wary of us. Then again, as you said, sir, I can't help but feel we owe the Minutemen something."
"Seeing as Jacqueline and I might still be being held by the Brotherhood if not for them, yes, we do," Madison conceded. "Do we know of any work they're doing or planning on doing where discrete and secret intervention by us could support them?"
"I'll need to confirm the reports again before taking action, but our surveillance has indicated they appear to be planning to retake their former base of operations at a site they call 'the Castle,'" Alana said, opening a few files on her tablet. "Considering the Minutemen are also providing an…additional layer of security and protection for our operations at University Point – whether they realise it or not – letting them get the upper hand against the Brotherhood could be rather beneficial for us."
"True, though whether or not we come up with a way to support the Minutemen, there's a lot we need to figure out, at the moment," Alan said, looking tired at the thought. "The Brotherhood are certainly not going away any time soon, and, while attacking their base was fine for us, I am concerned the alleged 'Mechanist' whose robots attacked them may attack our operations as well."
"A reasonable fear," Madison said, frowning. "We'll have to keep a close watch on that particular situation, though, for now, I don't think we have to worry about them. A bunch of robots made of a bunch of scrap parts jammed together with no rhyme or reason? I doubt we'll have any trouble dealing with them, if we ever have to engage."
"The construction of the robots may not look like much, but the reports do suggest they're rather durable," Alan said, taking a few notes. "I wouldn't discount the creator of these robots – whomever they may be – as unintelligent or unskilled and for that reason I still think caution would be prudent. While we've already significantly scaled back the number of third generation synths in the field, for the sake of security, I think we should restrict the third generation synths we put in the field to being almost exclusively Coursers, deployed as necessary."
"So much as I would like to avoid having to reduce our work in the Commonwealth proper, I would tend to agree, Dr. Binet," Shaun said, looking faintly annoyed. "That said, our two most important operations in the Commonwealth are complete, those being, of course, the rescue of Dr. Li and Miss Spencer and the retrieval of the Mass Fusion beryllium agitator."
"Having the agitator in our possession is certainly a relief," Madison turned to Allie. "What's the status on its integration? I noticed the last four months since its retrieval have been focused on its analysis and experimentation."
"The agitator and the additional materials we've uncovered regarding its development and planned uses are in much better condition than we were expecting," Allie replied. "As you and I already discussed, we're working on adjusting our secondary reactor to be compatible with the agitator, which is proving more time consuming than we had originally anticipated. The Mass Fusion experimental reactor turned out to be significantly different from the second of the two CIT fusion reactors we inherited."
"It was an off the books military project, wasn't it?" Madison paused in consideration when she nodded. "I suppose it's unsurprising we'd have to make adjustments but, honestly, I'm just glad one of them has always worked. Being able to get the secondary reactor online now is, frankly, something of a luxury we've fallen on good enough fortune to be able to do."
"Absolutely," Clayton said. "It'll be nice to be able to rely solely on our own power rather than having to discretely supplement our power needs from the surface. I'm certainly hoping to be able to bring the Synth Zoological Initiative back up to speed once we get the second reactor running."
"Our own pet projects aside, getting both reactors online will allow us to finally have enough energy to begin the robot wars again," Alan chuckled. "If there's anything that gets the kids interested in science around here, it's the chance to fight their classmates with robots. I'm quite looking forward to it."
"The last time we were able to have the 'robot wars' was 2284, wasn't it?" Nate lightly smiled. "I have to agree and, frankly, they're rather entertaining to watch."
"Well, in that case, once we complete Phase Three, I suggest we allow, along with some of the other scientists her age, Jacqueline to be one of the team leaders," Madison said, happier than she was keen to admit when she noticed Allie seemed to agree and, albeit only a little, relax out of the corners of her eyes. "I'm sure she'd enjoy it and, all things considered, while she's been more than happy to return to her usual work, she deserves something of a break."
"Yes, she does," Shaun said, pausing a few seconds in thought. "As for the completion of Phase Three, I have no doubt in my mind it'll run smoothly from here on out, by virtue of having the agitator in our possession and you back safely, Dr. Li. Having led the project the past three years, I suspect I speak for everyone when I say your return should put the project back onto a better timetable."
"I certainly hope it will," Madison said, her lips flattening into a thin line. "Even if only because completing Phase Three and shifting to full self sufficiency will – finally – make it damn near impossible for the Brotherhood to find us."
Goodneighbour
March the 31st, 2289
10:01
"Anne? What's wrong with your arm?"
Feeling hands tugging at her arm, fear latching onto her, when her eyes snapped open, the first thing Dr. Annette Christine Davis heard was herself screaming. The hands suddenly let go and, a little disoriented, she frantically began looking around only to startle and pull the heavy, dark silky blankets tighter around her when she saw who was standing no more than a foot away from her. Deeply confused by his father's special friend, five year old Duncan Robert MacCready stared at her, his eyes wide and his long hair messily falling over and around his face. A bit shakily, and feeling rather cold and embarrassed, Annette pulled the blankets even tighter still around herself while she half sat up, still trying to calm herself down. Duncan kept staring at her, getting a little antsy when she still did not say anything. Her heart sinking when she saw the young boy's father was not beside her or, even, in the room, Annette briefly closed her eyes, pushing aside her disappointment. Awkwardly rolling back and forth on his feet from his heels to his toes, Duncan briefly considered going to get his father from down the hall in the kitchen but decided not to when he looked back at Annette who seemed a little more calm.
"Did the bad men hurt your arm?" The five year old said, looking down at his feet when he saw her flinch. "It just looks…strange. With all the whiteish pinkish lines and all."
"They did, but I've also…been in a lot of accidents over the years," Annette hesitated. "Sometimes they leave scars or little marks. But I'm safe now."
Duncan nodded. "Do you still get into accidents like that?"
"Haven't in several years," Annette assured him. "Now, go find your dad. I'll…come see you two in a few minutes. I just need to close my eyes a little longer. Can you close the door behind you so I can do that?"
"Yep!" He said cheerfully, skipping out of the room. "Get a good sleep!"
The second the door slammed shut behind him, Annette breathed a sigh of relief. For a minute or two, she rested her arms over her eyes, before reaching over to where she had left her red reading glasses on the nightstand. When she put them on, and everything came into focus, she stared at her arms, feeling sick when she grazed her fingers over some of the marks. Scars. Healed burns. The new ones, rawer than the others, left her nauseated and, not wanting to dwell on it, took one last look around the room to ensure she was alone before all but running over to the dresser to take out and slip into a new bra and underwear, the ones from the night before already in the laundry basket half tossed up against the wall by the bathroom. She felt better when she was finally back in a soft, long sleeved v-neck and soft flared pants. Nervously wrapping her arms around herself, she hesitated a few seconds before stepping out of the bedroom, weakly smiling at Duncan when she found him waiting for her just outside the door. The five year old suddenly grabbed her hand and began tugging her down the hall, yelling for his father who laughed when he turned to see Annette scooping him up, and carrying him over to sit at the kitchen island. Duncan waved at her after she set him down. The five year old then grinned at his father when he saw him, after a few seconds of hesitation, gently loop one arm around his special friend's waist and reach over to slide her nearly knee length, braided hair over her left shoulder.
"You sleep alright?" MacCready smiled when she nodded. "Glad to hear it."
Annette lightly kissed him. "I'm just happy it's finally real."
MacCready gave her a reassuring squeeze. "And what's that?"
"I've finally found someone so soft and romantic," She said, resting her hands lightly on his chest. "Now, it's not a dream I wake up from where we walk and talk together and, then, I'm taken up in someone's arms."
"You tell pretty stories," Duncan hummed to himself. "Do you think you can tell me stories sometimes like daddy does?"
"Depends," She replied. "What kind of stories do you want to hear?"
Duncan shrugged. "I don't know. I'll let you know when I do."
"I'm sure you will," MacCready chuckled, briefly letting Annette go to take his son's pancakes off the stove and onto a plate. "You going to be alright if we step outside for a few?"
"Sure," Duncan said, grinning when his dad pushed the plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice over to him. "Make sure you shut off the stove!"
"Don't worry, I will," MacCready assured him, pausing to watch Annette step out onto the balcony after sweeping something out of her purse. "You really keep me on top of things," He rolled his eyes when Duncan made a jokingly innocent face, checking one last time to ensure the stove was off. "And are adorable about it."
"I'm helpful," Duncan cheerfully said.
"And a good kid," MacCready said, affectionately ruffling his son's long, messy hair. "I'm proud of you, buddy. You know that, right?"
Letting out a sigh of relief when Duncan nodded, the former gunner hesitated for a minute before, seeing his son was contentedly eating his pancakes and drinking his juice with a comic book beside him, heading towards the doors out onto the balcony. The late March air warmer than usual, he did not bother to grab his jacket on the way out, more than comfortable in his t-shirt and jeans. Seeing Annette smile when he stepped through the doors and out onto the balcony with her, MacCready carefully shut the doors, then wrapping an arm around her again. Already lively and a bit chaotic in the streets below, Annette turned slightly to face him, leaning back a little against the railings with one hand resting on his chest and a lit cig in the other. She let it fall to the ground below when MacCready pulled her in a little closer, and briefly closed her eyes when she rested her head on his chest. His fingers bounced delicately up and down her long, braided hair before pausing when she looked up, her glasses a bit askew and her eyes a bit misty.
"You sure you're alright?" MacCready sighed when she hesitated. "I –"
"No, it's not your fault, I…I'm sorry," Annette said quietly. "For breaking down after last night. It…it's been awhile and...and even longer since it was with someone I truly love."
"And I'll say it again, you have nothing to feel sorry for," MacCready said, cupping her left cheek with one hand and brushing aside a few rogue tears with his thumb. "Besides," He lightly teased. "I haven't had that much fun in a long time."
Annette laughed. "I could say the same."
"Good to know," MacCready said, softly kissing her. "I meant what I said, you know. When I was trying to help you fall asleep. I remembered what you said on our first date, when you said you never break a promise and, really, I couldn't be happier to have found it's true. I don't say shit I don't mean, either, doll. I didn't take it lightly when I told you I love you, and I'm happy to know you feel the same. I just want to make sure you're alright."
"I know you do," Annette said, her voice wavering. "I suppose I wasn't expecting it. I..."
"If laying your head on my chest while I play with your hair is what you need for me to soothe you, I'm more than happy to oblige," MacCready calmly told her. "And, if it helps…you felt lovely, and I'm lucky to have you for so many reasons, it seems, now."
Annette blushed. "You also felt lovely but are you trying to embarrass me, Bobby?"
"That's the furthest thing from my mind, doll," He said, lightly kissing her again. "After everything you've done for me? After what you've come to mean to…no, I'm not trying to embarrass you, Netta. Just glad to see you happy."
"I'm lucky to have you, then," She replied. "I really am."
"So am I," MacCready said, briefly letting her go to twirl her before bringing her back into his arms. "Just two years ago, I really thought the feeling of having someone who's always there with a shoulder to lean on was gone forever but, then, I met you. I couldn't be happier that you've been here, lending me your shoulder despite what we'd both been through until now."
Annette smiled. "Well, I won't be going anywhere, so don't worry."
"I'll do my best," MacCready said, pulling her in a little to hold her flush against him, smiling himself when she delicately rested her hands on his chest. "I knew I was taking a chance when I dumped all my feelings on the table but, now I know how you really feel about me…it was definitely worth the risk."