The Commonwealth
May the 10th, 2289
5:37

The pain from his wounds still dull and throbbing, knowing, at least, he was going to be perfectly fine and the bullet fragments had been safely removed by his landlord and his wounds stitched up, motherly disapproval in her voice whilst she had worked, was more than enough to satisfy Robert Joseph MacCready.

To little surprise, Cait had gotten a little too excited telling everyone about how much she loved Rowdy's AR-18. Nearly the second they passed through the gates into Goodneighbour, the former cage fighter had all but ran to Kill Or Be Killed, throwing open the door and babbling to Kleo about getting her hands on an AR-18 of her own. To much surprise, Kleo decided to give it to her for free after hearing what Cait had done with Rowdy's. Where Cait and, soon after, Vadim had left shortly after they, Piper, and MacCready had made it back to Goodneighbour, presumably to brag to the patrons of the Dugout Inn and show off their 'spoils of war,' Piper had stayed with him and dragged him into his landlord's store. After all but begging her not to wake up Annette and not feeling up to dragging himself to Amari after several hours of walking back to the eccentric town, Daisy had agreed to fix his wounds herself. Feeling more sore than in pain, about an hour since she had finished removing the bullet fragments one by one, disinfecting his wounds, and stitching them up, MacCready nervously looked between her and Piper as the two women talked. When they both paused and turned to him, he sighed.

"Look, they needed to be dealt with," MacCready said, taking off his hat and rubbing at his head. "They tried to kill my son, nearly killed my…I couldn't let it stand. They would have come after me again."

"Well, if they ain't going to bother you again, then that's good news," Daisy said, glancing out the window at the first hints at sunlight slipping through. "But you should have been more careful. You don't usually get yourself hurt real bad when you go out, Bobby, and you've done some pretty dangerous jobs both when you worked for them and now you work for yourself and Hancock."

"Don't remind me," MacCready muttered. "It feels shitty enough."

Piper snickered. "Careful, you're going to start swearing in front of your son soon."

"Shut up, Piper," MacCready half heartedly replied. "I got shot several times, I think I've earnt the opportunity to swear."

"You've got that nailed down," Daisy hummed. "Speaking of Duncan, he should probably still be sleeping, unless the boy went to sleep real early last night."

"Good," MacCready said, pushing himself off the couch towards the back of her store and slowly standing up. "I'm going to check on him. Don't cause trouble."

"Can't promise," Piper cheerfully teased.

"I'll come by to see how you're feeling a little later," Daisy told him. "If you're still feeling like shit, I will make you go see Amari."

MacCready sighed. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that."

Hobbling his way across the room and to the stairs up to the apartments, MacCready set his hat back on his head and tiredly rubbed at his eyes, exhaustion starting to gnaw at him. One step, then another, and another. Maybe there really is something to the thing about adrenaline making things easier to push through. He fumbled with his jacket pockets, struggling for a minute to find his key. For a few seconds, he closed his eyes and leaned against the doorway into his apartment. Finally, he shoved the key into the door and clicked the lock open, trying to be as quiet as possible when he opened the door, not wanting to wake his son. He let out a sigh of relief when he didn't see anything off about the apartment, and tried to close the door as quietly and carefully as he had opened it. Dropping his key back into his jacket pocket, he leaned back against the wall for a few minutes, closing his eyes again. Finally, he slowly unzipped and took off his combat boots one by one, nearly falling over halfway through the process. It was when he got a light whiff of coffee from the kitchen that he startled, before smiling and making his way across the apartment to the kitchen.

"It's six in the morning, doll, ain't that a little early even for you?"

Annette let out a short, startled scream when she turned around, only to fall completely silent when she saw MacCready had, at the very least, a few very recent stitches, the most obvious of which were on his hands.

"We had to get up by six most of my life," She finally said. "But, Bobby, what in the –"

"Don't worry, I'm fine," He said, sighing when she frowned. "Daisy fixed me up," He explained, startling himself when she suddenly and tightly embraced him, looking shaky. "Doll, I'm fine, I –"

"If Daisy had to give you stitches, I find that hard to believe," Her voice faltered. "What happened, Bobby?"

"Just had to handle a bit of business," MacCready said, reassuringly rubbing her back. "It's alright, Netta. I got a little messed up, but it was well worth it."

"More than a little messed up, I'm guessing," She said, blinking back tears when he gently kissed her and fixed her falling glasses. "Thank God you're alright."

"Everything is alright," MacCready amended. "Winlock and Barnes are gone. Well, them, their small army of gunners, and their entire waystation."

Annette stared at him for a few seconds, speechless.

"Piper, Vadim, and Cait helped deal with them too," He went on with a faint smile. "And, heck, I think Cait's discovered a new favourite weapon."

Annette managed a small laugh. "And what might that be?"

"An AR-18," MacCready replied, relieved when she laughed again and unable to not laugh himself. "She can't keep 'borrowing' Rowdy's. She keeps doing that much longer, and it's basically stealing."

"As if Rowdy wouldn't steal it back," She rolled her eyes with a smile. "The two of them are effective, but they're also a bit, from what I've heard and the little I've seen, eccentric."

"Eccentric is one way to put it," MacCready said, sighing when she let go of him to turn off the stove. "But, I promise, you don't have to worry about me. I've had worse. Not the first time I've gotten a bit messed up in a firefight."

"At least try to take it easy," She told him. "Gives you an excuse to spend more time with Duncan."

"And you," MacCready affectionately teased. "But…yeah. Guess it's a good thing Hancock is probably going to think this is the best thing he's ever heard."

Annette glanced at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What's that at the moment?"

"Any of the stories behind the people who've gotten their pictures on the wall at the Third Rail," He said with a shrug, wobbling over to and sitting down at the kitchen counter. "The most recent one was one of the caravan bosses out of the Hill, Cricket. I'm honestly not sure how she's still alive given all the drugs she does, but she apparently won an intense game of poker against some mob idiots despite not knowing the rules."

She smirked, pouring two cups of coffee. "Were the people she was playing against also high or is she just possessed by unnaturally good luck?"

"Both, most likely," MacCready said, dropping his hat on the counter beside him before accepting one of the cups of coffee from her. "You doing alright? You look shaken."

"Yes, I'm shaken," Annette snapped, suddenly staring down at her hands when she saw the look of hurt that crossed his face. "I'm sorry, Bobby, I…I don't…the thought of you getting badly hurt by…"

"It's alright, doll," MacCready hesitated. "I probably should have told you, but I didn't want you to worry. I was going to be fine, and I am."

"And I'm relieved you are," Annette said, her voice wavering. "But please don't do it again."

"I won't," MacCready promised, reaching over and squeezing her hands when she sat down across from him and set down her coffee. "It's not as if I have any enemies who'll want to dare come after me once they find out about this anyways."

Vault 88
May the 12th, 2289
13:02

"You took care of a few raiders? What were they doing outside? This is private land, belonging to the Vault-Tec Corporation!"

"I ain't sure anybody – much less 'em raiders – has the same thoughts on private land as you do, but, to each their own, I suppose."

Putting his hands up above his head to prove he had disarmed himself, Sturges Presley tried not to feel even half as uncomfortable as he did with the woman who kept her gun aimed at him. He slowly followed after her while she walked, backwards, towards her office, refusing to turn her back to him. The more he looked around, the more confused he felt; for a Vault-Tec facility, it only halfway looked the part, even accounting for the fact it had been unfinished. Every so often, he glanced at the man walking beside him, whom, to his surprise, had been in a great mood since he had found him hiding from the raiders under the stairs down to the blast door of the Vault. The second the danger was gone, it had seemed, the man had been positively chipper, excitedly cheering as he watched the Vault door open and followed him into it, chattering all the way. The fact he had only stopped talking when the woman they had rescued ordered him to was almost unnerving but, in some ways, it was less abrasive than continuous idle chatter. When she finally lowered her gun upon them, albeit trepidatiously, entering her office, Sturges and the man looked between each other, a moment, before doing as she ordered and sitting down in two of the chairs in front of her desk.

"Don't get the impression I'm going to be providing you two couple's therapy due to our seating arrangements," She said, logging into her computer terminal before sitting down in front of them at her desk. "I am Valery Barstow, the Overseer of this Vault. Now, I see one of you is in possession of a Pip-Boy but, I'm sure, neither of you are from Vault-Tec. Who are you? Where did you get it?"

"A few months back, a friend of mine gave me the codes into the Vault she'd come from," Sturges replied, reaching over to shake her hand. "She'd retrieved a few for one of our friend's family and some of his associates a little shy of two years ago but gave me the code when I asked since I was hoping to get a chance to study pre-War technology, especially technology this advanced. Found an interesting cryogenics based gun in there I'm studying, too. And the name's Sturges Eric Presley. I'm a mechanic, and one of the Commonwealth Minutemen."

Barstow sceptically stared at him. "Any relation to the singer?"

"If so, I ain't able to prove it," Sturges half heartedly joked, her intense gaze unnerving. "I certainly can't carry a tune to save my life."

"Fascinating," Barstow said, taking out a notebook and pen. "Well," She shifted her gaze to the other man. "And you are?"

"Clem!" He happily replied. "I was just taking a look around but got caught by those raiders. Thankfully, this great guy here helped me out!"

Barstow pursed her lips. "And what were you doing here?"

"Some guys on the road told me there was a secret stash of good food and water hidden in the old quarry," Clem said with an easy smile. "But I hadn't thought there would be raiders around here. I probably should have thought of it but, hey, I'm still here, ain't I?"

"'Aren't I,'" Barstow corrected. "I am…disappointed in the erosion of the English language."

Sturges eyed her strangely. "Far as I know, my whole family's talked like this since…well, ever. Ma was from the NCR, and dad's family was coming up from Dixie and then here I came out shortly after they married and chose to settle down here."

Barstow sighed. "That explains it, then. Rednecks."

Sturges chuckled. "If that's the worst thing someone can say about me, I think I'm doing pretty damn good out here."

"I was being quite pejorative," Barstow said, sounding disappointed. "It's quite a bad thing to be a Redneck. The lack of refinement is troubling."

"If everything has to be…refined, right? If everything has to be that way, what's the fun?" Clem said, looking incredibly confused. "Life would be so damn boring like that."

"Regardless, your helping me out from where I had been trapped was good enough to tolerate all of this," Barstow looked appraisingly over them again. "How about one or both of you bring the Vault back to what it had been meant to be. I think it would prove quite beneficial."

Sturges frowned. "Sorry, but I've got people to protect and help – all across the Commonwealth – and staying in one place wouldn't work out for me. And I'm something of a wanderer when I'm not working as one of the Commonwealth's Minutemen, defending the innocent people of the region at a minute's notice."

"I'm disappointed," Barstow turned to Clem. "And what about you? Stay here in the Vault and recruit others to it?"

"I can stay here and make other people feel at home?" Clem smiled when she uncomfortably nodded. "I would love that!"

"I do have one request, even though I won't be staying," Sturges said before she could respond. "I'd like to look at some of the records of this place, and how it compares to other Vaults."

"For research purposes?" Barstow considered that through a narrow gaze. "I will allow you to do so," She eventually said. "Under the condition you only do so under my supervision. Do we understand each other?"

"Yeah we do," Sturges said, reaching across the desk to shake her hand, a gesture she seemed taken aback by. "And don't worry, I won't stay and intrude long."

"I'll ensure that's the case," Barstow said coldly, looking back at Clem. "Go get properly equipped and dressed. There should be supplies – Vault suits, Pip-Boys, etc – in the welcome area near to the entrance of the Vault. Do you know where that is?"

"Yep!" Clem happily replied. "We passed it when we were coming in. I was tempted to take one but I'm happy I'm getting them the legitimate way."

"Hmph," Barstow frowned. "Have you ever experienced caffeine before?"

"Maybe?" Clem said with a half hearted shrug. "I don't know. How come?"

"Caffeine increases productivity, and I'm going to need someone as productive and driven as myself in order for us to recruit others into the Vault and because of it lighten our workload," She flatly replied. "I assume you can understand that, can't you?"

"I do," Clem cheerfully said. "How do I get caffeine?"

"In a better situation, through pills, however those are most likely all but nonexistent because of the War," Barstow explained. "As such, the best method would be through the consumption of coffee or tea, which is, I suspect, much more easily accessible."

Clem nodded. "Sounds good to me. Hopefully those taste good."

"Coffee here is probably better than the sludge they call coffee in some places on the surface," Sturges said with a bit of a laugh. "A few guys in Diamond City got kicked out for selling the stuff laced with meth."

"Methamphetamine? In coffee?" Barstow repeated, sounding and looking disgusted at the mere notion. "That sounds like an utterly awful combination."

"It was, which was why it got shut down and they got kicked out," Sturges said. "Not the strangest thing to ever happen, but definitely one of the stranger things I've ever heard of."

"It…appears to be that way, yes," Barstow said apprehensively. "Well. With all of that in mind, Clem, go get ready and, Sturges, stay here with me and I will log you into my computer and pull some files you may find…interesting for your research."

"Got it," Sturges said. "Let's get this show on the road."

The Institute
May the 14th, 2289
10:01

"You're officially in remission? Thank God!"

Nathaniel Jonathan Norwich, usually a stoic man, let out a cry of relief when his son nodded. Taking another look through his son's latest medical report, he found himself calming the further and further through it he read the second look through. About ready to cry, he set the report down before tightly embracing his son, only realising he had started to cry when he felt his son was too. It's going to be alright. Everything is going to be alright, now. Little by little, breath by breath, he began to calm down, though he did not let go of his son until he was sure they were both no longer crying. It was so familiar but so distant; decades and decades and decades ago, when his son had still been a baby, he had found himself silently crying whilst his infant son cried. It was so familiar, but, this time, the feeling lifted much more quickly. With a slightly embarrassed laugh, Nate let his son go and, after a few seconds of hesitation, sat down on one couch across from his son when his son sat down on the other. Relief. True, all consuming relief. It was unprecedented, but it felt good. It was alright.

For now, everything would be alright.

"I didn't quite expect the news myself," Shaun said, his voice wavering for a few seconds. "But Dr. Volkert, Dr. Holdren, and Dr. Sanders were all clear. After the last several years of this, finally, my leukaemia has gone into remission. They're all, of course, going to be closely watching for any changes or return, but, for the time being, things are significantly better."

"They really are, aren't they?" Nate said, barely able to contain his joy. "I was…I was worried we would frighten your mother, if we were to be in such a state of anxiety. I'm glad we won't have to be."

"I am, too," Shaun said with a small smile. "I received a significant update regarding mother from X6-88 early this morning, too. Apparently, she has been recently spotted around the remains – on the surface, of course – of the CIT with N1-33 and the eccentric woman she had been travelling with."

Nate raised an eyebrow. "Did our intelligence confirm whether or not she's learnt of the Relay?"

"My understanding, from X6-88 and the other…Coursers we have reporting to us and us alone is she and N1-33 went into the 'Glowing Sea' and, after they returned, were heard discussing that subject as they returned to Diamond City," Shaun paused in consideration. "If she and N1-33 did come across that information in the 'Glowing Sea,' then they almost certainly would have received that information from Dr. Virgil. So far as I'm aware, the only other inhabitants of that part of the region are the 'Children Of Atom' as they call themselves and they would not have any information about us or our capacities."

"Agreed," Nate said, looking briefly annoyed. "It seems the headache he caused us was, to some extent, worth it. I wasn't quite sure how to leak that bit of information to her and her alone."

"I wasn't either," Shaun admitted. "But, seeing as that issue has all but resolved itself, I won't waste time being bothered about it. That said, Virgil knew full well how the Relay works, and her looking around the CIT indicates she is almost certainly looking for one of our Coursers."

"For their chip?" Nate sighed when his son nodded. "Well, we can't send one to simply…wait around the old campus for her to kill it. That would risk tipping off Dr. Secord. The one thing Dr. Ayo has on her is that he is far less observant to anything that doesn't serve him."

"Yes, though I still maintain it was best to give her the top job in the SRB regardless of the difficulties it might pose for us personally," Shaun said. "My only concern for mother catching a Courser is her ability to know where one is. To hear the interference the Relay causes would require access to an incredibly advanced EM reader capable of hearing frequencies as low as those that linger after the dispatch of a Courser and communicate its movements to us here in the Institute."

"True, although…" Nate said, raising an eyebrow in thought. "The Minutemen! Didn't the watchers indicate they've gotten their long range radio communications system online again?"

"Do you think it's possible they could even faintly read a Courser's signal?" Shaun considered that. "If so, we could slip some information to them, considering the Minutemen are already – whether they realise it or not – aligned with us, or we could leak a pitched up sequence that would send her to the location of a dispatched Courser. They certainly wouldn't tell the Brotherhood anything, and none of our intelligence has ever indicated they've crossed paths with let alone cavorted with the 'Railroad.'"

"Not to mention we haven't seen or heard any activity from the Railroad in months," Nate mused. "We did get a report from the SRB about their former headquarters going offline a few months ago, though, didn't we?"

"Scavengers," Shaun said, stepping over to his computer and logging in. "Dr. Secord dispatched a Courser to the site of their former headquarters, in a former US government facility known as the 'Switchboard,' after checking the status of first and second generation synth activity in that region of the Commonwealth."

"As there have been so many more of the first and second generation synths in the field since what…occurred with S3-47 and Dr. Zimmer, keeping track of them has been, according to both Dr. Secord and Dr. Binet, much more difficult," Nate said, starting to pace. "Is that an accurate summation? And when did Dr. Secord have the Courser dispatched?"

"The eleventh of February," Shaun replied, pulling up the file. "Yes, the Courser was dispatched at 7:12 to the 'Switchboard' and reported back that the location had been looted, most likely by either the average scavengers or raiders, and all of the first and second generation synth units there had been destroyed. We had far less there than we had in the year and year and a half prior, which probably lent itself to their easy destruction. Dr. Secord's report is quite thorough, and it's clear the Railroad had long since left the area by the time of this...incident. And, as she noted, there are actually quite a few gangs of raiders in the area these days."

"Well, disappointing as that is, it at least explains what happened and is a good sign that the Railroad's strength has seriously diminished in light of our discovery of that location," Nate said. "And it's certainly better common scavengers or raiders found, destroyed, and looted the place rather than the Brotherhood."

"Absolutely," Shaun agreed. "As for luring mother to a Courser to eliminate, leaking information about the whereabouts of one to the Minutemen would, I suspect, be the easiest way to do so."

"That's true, although, if she's spending more time around the – on the surface – CIT, we could create a situation wherein an 'escaped' synth runs into her and tells her to help them by getting rid of the Courser chasing them," Nate remarked. "That also could be done without tipping off Robotics or the SRB, provided we maintain it as an absolute secret and ensure the synths don't reveal anything they are not supposed to reveal for the sake of pulling off the operation."

Shaun paused in consideration. "Perhaps, however...activity by the 'gunners,' as they call themselves has been on the rise recently. Their current base of operations, as I understand it, is the building once housing the international headquarters of Greentech Genetics. We could, I believe fairly easily, lure her there to take out a Courser."

Nate sighed. "We'll need to be exceedingly discrete, but it wouldn't be all that difficult from a practical standpoint. My real concerns regard the, albeit incredibly slim chance, of an agent of the Brotherhood learning of any this, even by accident or coincidence."

"In that case, we should act quickly to minimise the chance of them uncovering any of this," Shaun said, hesitating only for a brief moment. "We ought to put the pieces in motion now."

Nate nodded. "And, with enough luck, we'll be able to manufacture the situation within the next week at most."

"We should," Shaun said. "Pull a synth and a Courser to be prepared to do this and bring them here. Getting this done will alleviate some of our fears of her becoming despondent and giving up on finding me, and us."

"I will," Nate lightly smiled. "We've waited more than long enough."

The Prydwen
May the 15th, 2289
11:11

Strange.

There was no other word to describe it.

Simply put, the report from Paladin Jackson Roger Danse, Scribe Janet Isla Haylen, and Knight Laurent George Rhys was strange, even stranger than they had anticipated when the team had been sent off to investigate the so called 'Mechanist.' Stranger still was the description of the robot they had encountered during their search, and what they had learnt from it. That a robot could exhibit signs of sentience was not necessarily the most shocking piece of the report, disturbing as some of its requests were. That the robot was obeying orders despite those signs was suspect. Presumably, it had not come from the Institute; a heavily beaten, weather battered, modified assaultron would be far from their concern. Its lack of knowledge on but desiring revenge on the so called 'Mechanist' also suggested it was not one of their mechanical horrors. The room quiet, still awaiting the arrival of the esteemed Lancer Captain, Proctor Marshall Quinlan scrolled through the report again on his tablet, frowning and trying to make heads and tails of it. The oddity, certainly, couldn't be overstated, nor could the unit's questionable reaction at identification. At the very least, it wasn't quite right, and –

"On some level, the business with this robot reminds me of Sawbones," Knight Captain Cade remarked, pausing when he heard the door open. "Kells!" He smiled at the Lancer Captain as he approached, acknowledged the Elder, and took his place at the table whilst two Paladins closed the doors into the Prydwen's command deck again. "Have we gotten any good word on the issue of…rations vanishing?"

"I have two Knights taking a look at the situation, but they've identified a few persons of interest," Kells informed him. "As for your comparison of the reported robot to Sawbones…I find it hard to disagree."

"Fixing the issues in that old thing was a mess, but well worth it," Ingram said, looking disturbed at the thought. "Getting rid of the questionable 'personality' it exhibited was a relief to everyone. Had to hand it to Star Paladin Lyons, he really did a good and quick job of it."

"After over a few years of fighting with it," Cade said with a brief chortle. "But, unfortunately, this appears much more serious than a…creepy and malfunctioning robot. I spoke with Paladin Artemis about potentially joining Danse's team, given his vast combat experience and knowledge of robots. He too, I should note, compared this unit to Sawbones before that unit was fixed, and I have to agree with him that both are, to say the very least, a bit creepy."

"Seeing as this unit insists on being called a human name, claims to be female, and is adamant about having been…equal to the caravaners who had refurbished it, 'a bit creepy' doesn't quite cut it," Maxson sighed. "On the face of it, I'd say it's better safe than sorry and to destroy the unit before it could cause us any damage."

"Yes," Quinlan agreed. "Though, as I believe you're suggesting, this situation is rather…peculiar."

"It is, not the least of which being because, all of that said, it did effectively lead Paladin Danse, Scribe Haylen, and Knight Rhys to information on this 'Mechanist' and has suggested it could be useful in speeding up the process of them finding the menace," Maxson frowned. "It's certainly a situation open for debate, though I won't be making any final decisions until I speak to Danse and his team myself."

"Understandable," Kells noted. "I would like to err as close to intense caution as possible. Seeing as we don't quite know yet the extent of this 'Mechanist's' capabilities, throwing another, changing variable in there is something I'm more than a bit wary of."

"As you should be," Teagan irritably said. "This has the potential to become another massive setback for us, and we're still fixing the damage those damned Atom Cats did to some of our vertibirds back in March. And, of course, there's the issue of Dr. Li."

"Her and Jacqueline being back in the Institute is a problem for us, but it can't be helped," Ingram sighed. "It's a shame, and I'm less than happy about it, but the thing is we can't waste time being angry about it. Liberty Prime still has to be at the top of our list of priorities either way."

"It does," Maxson said, briefly inclining his head towards her. "And that's part of why we need to deal with this menace and put down all of their abominations as soon as possible. They haven't breached the airport again, but the chance is still there and I'm quite disquieted by it."

"A sentiment we all can agree upon," Quinlan said, scrolling through Danse's report again. "For as disturbing as this automaton is, the fact it possesses any knowledge on this 'Mechanist' is useful to us. Paladin Danse, Knight Rhys, and Scribe Haylen all concurred, in the report, the automaton is obeying them. Truly, I'm much more imminently concerned about the 'Mechanist's' capabilities and what they discovered about the pre-War General Atomics International and RobCo Industries."

"I'm embarrassed to admit I nearly vomited seeing the images of that particular…thing," Teagan said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Even the Enclave didn't have or attempt to create such horrors, and they were the ones responsible for all but one strain of the FEV virus."

"The fact even the Enclave didn't do something so egregious tells me all we need to know about the creators of that thing," Ingram said, shaking her head. "But it is important to put down. It sounded like the 'Mechanist' knows a lot about them, seeing as they're the one using them, and that's a very bad thing for us and the rest of the Commonwealth."

"It really is," Cade said, taking a few seconds to think. "I don't like it any more than the rest of you do, but I really do think the automaton is the best lead we have to resolving the situation with any manner of swiftness. So long as Danse, Haylen, and Rhys are able to keep it under their control, we are more likely to benefit from it than not."

"And, after we deal with the 'Mechanist,' we could examine and experiment on the automaton before destroying it," Ingram mused. "It's an uncomfortable position to be in, but the fact we could gain a substantial amount of technological information from having it in our possession is worth pursuing."

"I'm not thrilled with it, but I can accept that reasoning," Kells said, albeit looking less than pleased by it. "Though the Institute more than likely would have no interest in it, I suppose it's better we have it than them. The fewer…artefacts they have access to in the Commonwealth, the better."

"Perhaps," Quinlan said, pursing his lips. "But I don't like the idea of this automaton being anywhere near our facility here, nor do I like the idea of it roaming freely while we have Paladin Danse, Knight Rhys, and Scribe Haylen here to give us their report in person."

"In that case, we could hold the automaton in a sealed part of the airport away from the majority of our operations," Ingram said, opening her own tablet to pull up the airport maps. "The old parking garage just past the entrance to the airport could be a good place to do so and would prevent it from potentially seeing any sensitive operations."

"That's a fair point," Teagan conceded. "Though we'll have to be careful with who we choose to guard it and ensure the automaton doesn't try anything."

"I'm sure one of Quinlan's patrols can handle it," Ingram frowned when he briefly scowled at her. "Marshall, there are already at least ten research and recovery patrols out at any given time. A few of your Scribes can give up time to do it. Hell, Jameson would probably get a kick out of it."

"If Elizabeth agrees to it and a few other Senior Scribes want to join her in it, I won't particularly object to it," Quinlan said, though he looked a bit miffed. "She is also the only Assistant Proctor not in active field service. Peabody is running most of the most the most sensitive reconnaissance operations, and Bowditch –"

"Marshall, if you want to start training pilots so Bowditch can guard an automaton for a few days, then you're free to," Ingram said, a lightly teasing glint in her eyes. "Otherwise, let it go."

"I'll give the orders for Danse and his team to report to the Prydwen as soon as possible, then," Maxson said. "Begin the preparations for that right away. We can't afford to waste time."

Railroad Headquarters
May the 16th, 2289
6:24

"I think I'm close to getting it! Come on, stupid system, don't you dare crap out on me!"

To little surprise, the eccentric inventor's excitement at finally having done what he had said he would was brash but, for once, it did not annoy her. Rather, after frustration after frustration starting to feel inescapable, Nora Jacqueline Norwich found herself, even, smiling a little.

Looking particularly eager for a good fight, Cait Felgate was casually leaning back against one of the stone pillars in the old crypt, humming to herself and smoking a cig. Near her and speaking in low tones with the organisation's leader, Desdemona, Nicholas Julius Valentine felt some of his own anxieties ease and, silently, prayed they would be able to find and hunt down a Courser and that doing so would help bring Nora some semblance of calm again. She needs it more than anyone else in the world, at least that I know of. The aged detective quickly cut himself off in his hushed words with Desdemona upon seeing the promising sight of the pulsing light on the computer and the low beeping sound of the large box, trying to latch onto the sound of the frequencies, growing steadier and steadier. Itching for a fight, Cait danced antsy around the room, ready to leave as soon as possible. Much more hesitant, Desdemona and Nick waited for the eccentric inventor to upload the coordinates given to the mapping on the computer terminal. Nora raised an eyebrow, seeing the signal originating around the remains of the CIT, as expected, and heading slightly north and to the west.

"There's not much out that way, is there?" She sceptically pressed. "That the Institute could have interest in, that is. I find it hard to believe a synth who escaped the Institute would risk staying anywhere near it."

"No, but there's lots of old tech centres," Tom eagerly assured her. "You've got a handful of old corporate offices, too, that they might be interested in."

"An escaped synth might need to try and gather supplies, too," Desdemona mildly added. "Or take shelter in an obfuscated location. If I remember correctly, our intelligence suggests there's quite a bit of fighting between raiders and gunner mercenaries. An escaped synth could get a handful of things from them while they're preoccupied by each other."

"It's a calculated risk," Glory coldly put in, scoffing when Nora's eyes narrowed towards her. "If they're running from a Courser, or are afraid a Courser is going to come after them, they sure as hell aren't going to be all that scared of raiders or even gunners. A Courser makes those idiots look like child's play."

"If a Courser is heading towards a tech centre that a way, it's probably heading either out of the area or to that gunner outpost," Nick remarked, leaning forward a little over Tom's left shoulder. "Your intel still got gunner activity at that old gene screening building?"

"Lots of gunner activity," Tom said with a shudder. "I don't like how close it is to Ticon, but –"

"Tom," Desdemona said with a sharp note to her voice. "That's need to know only."

"I don't care what or where this 'Ticon' is," Nora irritably told her. "What are the gunners doing there?"

"At Greentech?" Desdemona paused a minute in thought. "To my knowledge, they've used it as an outpost for about a year and a half. It's a well built, strong, and defensible location. The chances of someone – including the disjointed gangs of raiders who go in and out of the area – being able to overrun them there is incredibly low too."

"Sounds like a hell of a place," Cait said with a smirk. "I got a new beauty after a friend of mine let me borrow her nice little toy, and I'm ready to break her in."

Desdemona and Glory both startled when she pushed past them to unzip her bag, whipping out a gold and violet painted AR-18 and several ammunition belts she wrapped around her body; impractically but by choice. Hearing her laugh a little, Nick looked over at her briefly, only feeling some of his concerns ebb away when he remembered he had already taken all of her chems away a few hours before while she was asleep. Long as she doesn't find any around here to take, she should stay sober. Piper and MacCready are right – that bender she went on after they killed those gunner assholes was bad. Though there being less gunners around the Commonwealth ain't a bad thing. Gritting her teeth when Cait accidentally sauntered over her toes, Glory scowled at her as the former cage fighter headed towards the other end of the crypt past Tom's computer terminal to the gun range. With much more drama than necessary, Cait swung her painted AR-18 around her body and began to fire on the mannequins, winking at Nora and Nick before she shot off each of the mannequin heads one by one with more than a little bit of smirk when she turned back around and found Glory still scowling at her with a suspicious glint in her eyes. About to say something, she swore when Tom, almost far too excitedly, all but ripped off his headgear and stood up, cheering when the signal finally latched on to a single target, shouting for Deacon to come over. Startling awake and rubbing at his eyes, Deacon nearly lost his sunglasses stumbling over but let out a low, approving whistle when he reached them and saw the computer screen and the beeping box.

"Really looks like signal's heading towards that old genetic research corporation's headquarters," He said with a yawn, his voice a bit foggy from sleep. "Institute's probably combed through it already – ages ago, most likely – but, if that's where it's heading, then it's worth going after, right?"

"Are you sure that's where the Courser is headed?" Nora said, her voice heavy with scepticism. "Because the last thing I want is to waste time going after something heading –"

"If the gunners are irritating the Institute enough, sending a Courser in to wipe them all out and comb through for whatever useful shit might be left behind would be easy pickings, and I'd bet on them going for it," Deacon calmly cut in. "And, whether or not the thing is heading there, waiting to know for sure will raise our chances of missing the window to nab it."

"True," Desdemona said, pursing her lips when Nora looked about ready to say something else. "Greentech Genetics is only a few miles away from here; you could make it there and across the river bridge in an hour. If we wait more than another hour, you could easily miss it. Coursers rarely stay anywhere for more than a few hours, and the Institute aren't going to want to –"

"You want us to go to this place, fine, let's fucking go," Cait said with a shrug, reloading her AR-18 and walking back over to them, draping her left arm over Nora's shoulders. "But we're going to be wanting a bit of payment if we end up doing another job for you and getting nothing more out of it for us."

"Agreed," Nora said icily. "Now," She turned to Tom. "I need you to be damn near certain. Is that signal approaching Greentech?"

"Far as I can tell," Tom said cheerfully, wincing when she looked no more comfortable. "Look, I know none of this has been as concrete as you want to hear, but this is the best we got for now. We trusted you enough to have you help us retrieve a valuable prototype. Can you trust us on this?"

"Not looking like we have many other options," Nick said before Nora could bite off a reply. "And I agree the Institute wouldn't risk one of their Coursers just lingering around somewhere. Better we leave now than risk losing the chance by waiting."

"Can't argue with that," Nora said under her breath, glaring at Glory when she caught her smirking out of the corners of her eyes. "Don't you forget to stay the hell out of my way."

"You've made that plenty clear," Glory irritably replied. "But fine. It's been too long since I've gotten to put down a pro-Institute Courser. I don't like killing my own…but this is an exception. It's better than letting more synths get their lives snatched away from them by the Institute again."

"Long as you're feeling up to coming with us, I'll always appreciate the fire support," Deacon said, fist bumping her before extending a hand towards Nora. "We're going to get your ass to a Courser for you to knock it the fuck out and down."

"I damn well hope so," Nora said, snatching up her bag with one hand and shaking his hand with the other. "You going to back me up or hold me back?"

"After seeing what you're capable of? And, shit, Cait too?" Deacon shook his head. "Wouldn't even dream of trying to hold you back. I like living perfectly fine."

Cait grinned. "Well then," She said, letting go of Nora and waving at Nick. "Let's get moving."