There was a knock on Facian's bedroom door, which was also the door to his shack. Since it was seven o'clock in the morning, he mumbled something about amateur carpentry and rolled over in bed.
The knocking repeated, then fell silent. There was the tell-tale sound of a bobby pin poking around in a rusty lock, then into the room strode Piper, followed by a man in a battered beige and green coat.
"Are you sure we need him, Piper?" the lanky man said quietly. "You've got me already, and if there is a ghost..."
"If ghosts are real, the Minutemen need to know about it. If they aren't, at least it'll be a nice day out together," Piper explained. She leaned over and gave Facian a shake. "Oh, Blue, time to get up! Adventure is calling!"
"Zzzzz... Careful with that screwdriver, Minh..." mumbled Facian.
"We're looking into a haunted rubbish dump near Neponset Park, Facian! Scavengers are saying they can hear voices around there, strange moans of despair saying they've been trapped for hundreds of years!" Piper yelled, her face unusually close to Facian's ear.
"W-waaah-?!" Facian sat bolt upright, nearly headbutting Piper in the process. His eyes darted around the shack in terror. "Piper! Jesus Christ, I thought you were..."
Facian groaned and rubbed his eyes. "I guess it must be something important. Who's your, er, friend?"
"Robert MacCready," declared MacCready, thrusting out a hand for Facian to shake. "I'm a mercenary, probably the finest shot on the East Coast. Piper hired me as an escort for her ghost-hunting expedition."
"Facian Longfellow," Facian introduced himself, shaking Macready's hand. It was a lithe, strong hand, the sort of hand he'd have expected to find attached to a sniper. "I'm, er, a traveller who works with the Minutemen, which I suppose is why Piper's here at the crack of dawn expecting me to come with her for free."
Piper smiled sweetly. "People have been saying there's a ghost out near Quincy. Now I know, people say there are ghosts crawling out of the furniture all over the place, but EVERYONE's heard the rumours this time! A strange voice, echoing through the old world garbage, pleading to be released from-" She took a deep breath. "From somewhere, anyway. Come on, Blue, we have to find them! Ghosts existing would be a game-changer!"
"Well, let me check my diary." Yawning, Facian leaned over and fetched his Pip-Boy from the shelf. Piper could see the green pixels reflected in Facian's dark eyes as he opened his to-do list.
"Let's see. Drive the mirelurks from the Beantown Brewery, find a Giddyup Buttercup head, build two turrets for Warwick Homestead, water the mutfruit plants, tell the Vault 81 schoolchildren a story, polish Codsworth, slay the super mutant behemoth at the Murkwater construction site, find Kellogg..."
Macready looked at Piper, who shrugged apologetically.
"...source five pairs of extra-extra-extra-large trousers for the super mutants in Satellite Station Olivia, punch Kellogg in the face, rebuild Outpost Zimonja, find Kasumi Nakano, fetch some green paint from Hardware Town, and find ten pieces of chalk for Bittercup, apparently?" Facian frowned. "Who's Bittercup? Doesn't matter. I have no idea where Kellogg is and I don't want to do any of that other stuff, so Piper, you're on!"
Once Facian had got dressed and had breakfast, he set off with Piper and her entourage under a warm morning sun. They headed south along the river, skirting past most of the city ruins, and turned east towards the coast after Egret Tours Marina.
A pack of feral ghouls ambushed them along the way and chased them to the old department store, then around the building four times in a desperate stampede. One by one the ghouls collapsed in exhaustion, leaving a weary Facian, a sweat-soaked Piper and a very annoyed entourage (named MacCready) to stumble away in triumph.
"A vow of peace, huh?" MacCready remarked once he'd got his breath back. "You know, that's exactly what we need out here. Haven't I always said that the best way to deal with your enemies is not to hurt them?"
"You haven't seen him in action, Green," Piper scolded him. "Those ghouls got the drop on us."
"Oh, sure," said MacCready. "It's just... What are you going to do, Facian? Blow on the ghost? Run away from it? Sing a song?"
"There are more ways to solve problems than killing them, you know," Facian pointed out.
They carried on towards the marsh, where Piper stopped to change into her tall original red Hunter™ women's wellington boots. The road past Jamaica Plain turned out pretty dry and solid, so she needn't have bothered until they reached Neponset Park.
"Look at those caravans," said Facian, peering around at the flooded park. "I wouldn't want to come here for a vacation."
"No way," agreed Piper. "Okay, the ghost's supposed to be north of here, probably before we get to the old university. Everyone ready?"
"Hold on a minute. Don't you think..." Facian shivered. "Don't you think an old, flooded caravan park's the kind of place you'd find ghosts? We should check it first."
Facian waded to the nearest caravan. "Just to make sure," he said, opening the door.
"Hello," said the mirelurk hunter inside the caravan.
"Oh," said Facian. He slammed the metal door shut and turned around, grimacing. "Little problem, guys-"
Behind him, the caravan door ripped open like tissue paper to reveal the tiger-sized grey lobster in all her glory.
"RUN!" suggested MacCready, grabbing Piper.
"You don't have to tell me twice!" yelped Facian, sprinting after them.
"Shit," said Piper, screeching to a halt in front of the three round-shelled mirelurks who'd surrounted them while their backs were turned.
MacCready looked over his shoulder and gave Facian the most baleful of looks. "Just HAD to look in the caravan, didn't you? Well, what now, Mr Pacifist?!"
Facian bit his lip. He could hear the giant crabs chittering as they advanced, swaggering as best they could with such tiny legs, confident in their imminent victory and tasty lunch. Behind him, the even more deadly hunter was sharpening her claws with a nail file. It was a poor situation to be in, and yet...
"You!" Facian fixed the biggest normal mirelurk with a glare. "I am your alpha! Attack those two traitors to the flag, and restore the honour of your chitin!"
The tall mirelurk squeaked in shock, then turned and started snipping at his sister, who cried out in minor annoyance. The third mirelurk tried to grab his legs and pull him away, and soon the three were embroiled in an all-out brawl.
MacCready's jaw dropped. Piper whooped with joy and punched the air. Facian couldn't help but smile, but the clatter of mutant lobster feet told him his troubles were far from over.
Facian dove forwards, narrowly missing the mirelurk hunter's deadly snip, and tumbled over the wet grass. He rose with his Swatter drawn, facing the hunter, flanked by Piper with her stun baton and MacCready with his mouth still hanging open in amazement.
The hunter made a lunge at Facian. He swung at her pincers, cracking the chitin and making her hiss with pain.
Piper jabbed at the hunter, sending sparks crackling through her armour. The hunter hissed and barged past Facian, sending him tumbling, and took a swing at Piper.
Piper danced backwards, kicking up grimy water as she swiped at the hunter's claws. The beast shuddered and shrank away from her electrified baton. MacCready came in with a kick in the flank, which sent the hunter stumbling.
While the beast was reeling, Facian was raising his Swatter in a two-handed grip. He brought the bat down on the hunter's tail with a heavy, damp crunch.
"Aiyeeeee! You BASTARD!" the mirelurk hunter screeched, with tears in her dark compound eyes. "That was a cheap shot..."
If it was possible for a mirelurk hunter to pout, this one pouted. She turned around with a flouncy shrug of her armoured shoulders and slunk away into the marsh.
"That was a strange mirelurk," Piper said quietly.
"He's a strange pacifist!" MacCready said loudly. "You just battered her, Facian! What about that oath?"
"I swore never to kill. I didn't swear never to bonk anyone with a baseball bat." Facian winked. "Anyway, we'd better go before those three remember we're here."
Piper stepped out away from the road. She led the way over the bumpy field, kicking through tall grass and sloshing through brackish water, shining her torch at the hillocks piled with rubbish all around them.
"See anything?" whispered MacCready, keeping a firm grip on his rifle.
"Not yet," whispered Piper.
"Why are you using your torch, Piper? It's broad daylight," whispered Facian.
"I know, but something might be hidden under the garbage..." Piper reasoned. Nevertheless, she switched off her torch and shoved it back in her pocket to save the battery.
"Oh, here's something!" Facian ran to a pile of old furniture. Piper and MacCready looked on expectantly as the furniture clattered and tumbled down, Facian swore loudly, then laughed triumphantly.
"Now Cait can put that automatic receiver in her shotgun!" grinned Facian, holding aloft a battered green desk fan and a cylinder of something sloshy. "Here's some spray paint, too, in case she wants a, um, bright pink... shotgun."
Piper and MacCready groaned loudly in perfect sync.
"What say we take this seriously, Facian?" Piper said archly. "Keep your eyes peeled, and your ears. Let's go that way."
They came to some old, crumbling rectangles of bricks and wood, where houses had stood either side of a cracked tarmac road. A six-legged rabbit scampered out from under a cracked roof and ran between MacCready's legs, making him yelp.
"D-don't act so much like a radroach, you little-! You scamp!" he hissed.
Piper giggled. "If you're going to jump at rabbabbits, I don't know how well you're going to react to the ghost!"
"As long as it has the right number of legs," MacCready said heavily. "And aren't we supposed to be whispering so the ghost can't hear us?"
"Oh, yeah..." Piper's brow furrowed. "But we want to find it, don't we? Or them, if there's more."
"Do you have any idea how to handle a ghost if we DO find one?" whispered MacCready. "Because I don't. If things go south, we could get..."
"Not really," Piper admitted. "So I guess we DON'T want the ghost to think we're sneaking up on it. Which means..."
The grasslands north of Neponset Park were warm under the afternoon sun, but peace would not be found there. The crows and seagulls fled from their perches on broken-down cars and ragged trees when they heard the cacophany approaching.
"Atom bomb baby, sweet as a plum! Something something something with uranium! When she kisses, there's no hitch! Something something turns on a switch!" Facian sang in a perfect baritone.
"This is perfect! They have to sit up and pay attention to us now!" Piper shouted. She was banging two saucepan lids together in time with the song, a beaming smile on her face.
"Beware, spirits of the Netherworld," MacCready yelled without much enthusiasm. "I have two crazy people with me. Beware the Commonwealth's worst marching band!"
In a cloud of noise, they skirted around a large, damp pond and towards another tip. Facian collapsed against a tree, breathing heavily.
"I'm all songed out," he panted. "I don't know how Magnolia does it!"
"She has frequent breaks between songs, Facian, so don't feel bad." Piper dropped her saucepan lids and stretched her arms. "Did you bring anything for lunch?"
"Only a brahmin steak, some mutant hound chops, a box of Fancy Lads Snack Cakes, six bowls of noodles and a bottle of purified water," said Facian.
MacCready raised his eyebrows. "Well, that's impressive. I made a baguette with, er... Can anyone hear that?"
Piper and Facian pricked up their ears. There was a loud banging sound repeating every second. Something heavy striking on metal. It was coming from the tip nearby.
"The ghost?" breathed Piper.
"It's... It's probably a Protectron," said MacCready, his eyes darting around. "Or another marching band. Maybe we-"
"Hey! Can you hear me?!" The scratchy voice echoed across the hillside.
"Yeeeeek!" MacCready leapt into Piper's arms, trembling like an alarm clock.
"Oh, my god, there is a ghost!" gasped Facian. "It's up there, near those tyres and that fridge."
"Let me out!" the voice continued. "Please, let me out! I've been trapped in here for so long..."
"Of course... Some dark mage must have bound it to an amulet, or whatever it is they bind ghosts to, and buried it there!" breathed Piper, with MacCready draped around her shoulders like a rich lady's scarf. "I'm just gonna put you down now, all right?"
"F-f-fine!" MacCready's whole body shook for a moment, then he was still. "Fine. I wasn't scared, just caught a little off-guard," he said nonchalantly.
Piper put MacCready down, and with him and Facian, approached the tyres and the fridge.
"Helloooooo?" Piper shouted as they approached. "O spirit, long-lost and mournful, we mean thee no harm! I seeketh only to interview thee for my newspaper!"
"I wouldn't push my luck," hissed MacCready, clinging to Facian's sleeve. "Be ready to run, okay?"
"Always," said Facian.
A frightful banging came from the rusty old fridge among the rubbish. "You found me! Please, open the door!" the voice shouted, a little more urgently than before. "It's been so long... I should never have hid in this stupid fridge..."
Facian gasped. "There's someone in there!"
"Yeah..." Piper pulled a crowbar out from under her hat. "Hold on, I've got this. Stand back, ghost in the fridge!"
The ghost didn't, because he barely had enough room to breathe, but Piper levered open the door regardless. The lock gave way with a sharp metallic crack, and the door fell down with a blunt but also metallic clang.
"Oh, thank god..." A skinny pair of arms, mottled pink and brown, reached out from the fridge. A forlorn figure came stumbled onto the grass, and Piper grabbed his shoulders before he could topple over.
"You poor thing! What happened to you?" gasped Piper.
"Is he- Is he all right?" Facian breathed.
"Wh-what is he?! Is he a..." MacCready bent down to peer at the fridge prisoner, and gasped at what he saw.
The boy's eyes were as black as ebony, his skin sallow and rubbery, draped over his bones like it was a size too small. His nose was nothing but two dark holes, and all he wore was a ragged green coat.
"Hang on, you're not a ghost. You're just a perfectly normal, healthy young ghoul!" MacCready nearly laughed, but a thought hit him like a lorry. "Holy cow, how long have you been in there for?"
"I-I don't know! Months? Maybe even a year..." The boy groaned, covering his eyes against the afternoon sun. He leaned away from Piper, his joints creaking and popping alarmingly as they took his weight.
"I hid in there to get away from the bombs," the boy explained, "but then I couldn't get out 'cause of the lock. Thank God you guys came along!"
"The- the bombs?" Piper's mouth fell open.
"Maybe atom bombs aren't as bad as everyone says. There's still grass, trees, people..." The boy peered around at the blasted countryside. He shivered. "It doesn't look great, though. My parents... I have to get to the Vault!"
Bombs? Facian mouthed. He looked at MacCready, then at Piper, in utter disbelief.
"Uhh," Piper cleared her throat. "Wait a minute! What's your name, son...nny boy?"
"Hm? Oh, I'm Billy Peabody," the boy declared. "And thank you. Thank you so much for getting me out of there, but I really have to go now-"
"I'm Piper Wright. These are Facian and MacCready," Piper went on, with a frantic look in her eyes. "And the bombs fell two hundred years ago, Billy! I'm really sorry!"
MacCready groaned. "Yep, THAT'S how you break the news. Way to go, Piper."
The boy gasped. "Two hundred years?! No, y-you're kidding! Tell me you're kidding!"
"It... was actually two hundred and TEN years ago," Facian said in a small voice.
Billy stared at him, then at Piper, and put his head in his hands. "Two hundred years!" he squeaked. "Mom, Dad, Suzie from next door, they're all dead. Wh-what am I gonna do? I don't-" he sniffed. "I don't have the right paperwork to inherit the house, and our attorney's probably dead too! I've got NOTHING."
Piper stood frozen for a couple of seconds. "C-come on, don't say that!" she said worriedly. "You're alive, on a beautiful day. You've got your shoes and coat, so that's not nothing. Fair enough, your nose is gone, but your eyes are still there, and you even have ears!"
"Piper, shut up. Kid, listen to me, you aren't alone!" MacCready stepped forwards and wrapped his arms around Billy, who froze for a second, then leaned into him with a sob. "You've got us for starters, and we aren't going anywhere. But I know where to find your parents."
"What?!" cried Piper and Facian.
"Y-you're just saying that," sobbed Billy.
"No. When I was in the Gunners, we kept tabs on- We got to know people in the area, and I heard about a family living down near Quincy. Ghouls, like you."
Billy gasped. "I lived near Quincy!"
"MacCready, what are you saying?" Facian wasn't sure whether he should run over and kiss him or punch him in the face. MacCready was in the Gunners? And he just happened to know two ghouls? The situation was developing too much.
"Their surname's Peabody," MacCready went on. "Two of them, living in an old house on the edge of the marsh. I didn't... know them well, but they keep an old kid's bike next to their house. So I think they're your parents."
"But that's unbelievable!" gasped Piper.
"Yeah, it does sound almost too good to be true," Facian said severely. "Er, but I guess it, it would be a good outcome. Billy, you know we can't exactly PROMISE anything?"
"I... Yeah, I know." Billy looked at the grass. "I did have a bike, and I HOPE it's them, but if it's really been two hundred years..."
Facian blinked, and to his surprise felt tears in the corners of his eyes. He patted Billy gently on the scalp. "I... I know it's scary. This isn't the world you lived in before you got trapped in the fridge. But humanity's still here, Billy. We'll see if your parents are still here, but no matter what, we're not leaving you in the lurch."
"You guys..." Billy sniffed. "I don't believe this is happening. Are- are you angels? Seriously, now!"
They headed south along a crumbling road next to the coastline. A couple of radstags went splashing past some traffic lights, making Billy stop and stare.
"Two heads..." he said in a small voice. "Did those deer have two heads?!"
"Well, yeah. That's normal for radstags," Piper explained.
Billy shuddered. "Hope I don't grow another head..."
"Don't worry about that. If it was going to happen, it would've happened," said Facian.
Billy was far from reassured, but they carried on walking, past a broken-down tractor and over a stream that had cut through the road. They soon reached a crossroads where a country lane branched off into the marsh.
A man was coming towards them from Quincy, dressed in green combat armour with long blonde hair. Facian gave him a wave.
"Hey, there," said the long-haired man. He glanced down at Billy. "Strong-looking kid, aren't you? We don't get many ghoul children."
"Er," said Billy, "thanks? This is the second time someone's called me a ghoul today, and I still don't know what it means."
"Oh," said Piper, "it means you've got severe radiation poisoning, but it's okay because you've mutated into a person who can't be harmed by radiation!"
Billy stared at her.
"So, we're just out here for a stroll, maybe some fishing." MacCready grabbed the conversation by the shoulders and wrestled it into a more sensible direction. "Are you up to anything much?"
"Well, that depends. How much for him?" the man asked.
MacCready's face froze. "Sorry, what?"
"Come on, don't play the idiot. How much money for the kid?" The man smiled a shark-like smile. "Ghouls don't eat, they don't get sick, they're basically perfect slaves." He winked at MacCready. "So whaddaya say? Two hundred caps split between you?"
"Wh-what?! No, I'm not for sale!" Billy shrank behind Facian. "I'm not, am I?"
"No, don't worry, kid. Not in a million years," said Facian, with a steely look in his eye.
"Absolutely not, and you've got some nerve asking!" Piper advanced on the long-haired man until she was nearly standing on his toes. "People aren't appliances, and you're not touching a hair on that boy's head."
"Hey, take it easy, Mistress of Mysteries!" the long-haired man yelped, stumbling back a few steps. "He doesn't have any hair. But what about you, sniper boy? You've been quiet. I heard you'll do anything for caps." He smiled. "Could be two hundred all for you, maybe more if you play your cards right."
"If you don't turn around and walk away right now," growled MacCready, sliding a serrated combat knife from his pocket.
"J-jeez, all right! I'm going!" The man scampered back along the road. After a few steps, he stopped to point angrily at his enemies. "You guys haven't seen the last of Bullet Emerson, you hear me? I won't forget this!"
"I can't believe he just came up to us and tried to buy me!"
"I know! What did he THINK was going to happen?" Piper ranted while they walked. "Do you know what his deal was, MacCready?"
"No, but I'm guessing he's with the Gunners," MacCready said darkly. "Anyone who isn't nice enough for a regular mercenary company ends up running with them."
"So I've heard..." Facian looked at MacCready. "But if that's true, anyone who leaves the Gunners must be a pretty decent guy after all."
"Shut up," MacCready scoffed, his cheeks turning bright red under the stubble. "I'm not a boy scout. Some things are just wrong, though."
What kind of world have I woken up in? Billy wondered as he tromped along the dirty, cracked tarmac. He'd never heard of slavery happening in America, let alone child slavery. Gangs of mercenaries, the "gunners", deer with two heads... God, he just wanted to go home, curl up in bed under his Grognak the Barbarian quilt, and then maybe wake up and find out it had all been a bad dream.
The road took them deeper into the marshland, a greenish-brown plain smeared with grimy, shimmering water, dotted with tall, bare trees. Pieces of a ruined motorway still towered over the landscape, although a lot of it had tumbled like a snoozing concrete serpent into the mud.
"I think that's where I used to live." Billy pointed towards a gap in the bridge, beneath which a few wooden houses stood in various states of disrepair. "There, under the... where the highway used to be."
"In which case, hie us thence," was the gist of what Piper said in response.
The non-boy-scouts carried on, walking a bit faster now that they had some semblance of a target. They found a few places where the marsh had crept over the road, so Piper went ahead, poking the soggy ground with a stick to check for quicksand.
There wasn't any, and soon she led them, muddy and damp around the ankles, to the small clutch of houses under the towering motorway.
Most of the houses were ruins, their broken rooves slumping into the grimy water, while some of their walls still reached up with splintered white planks. But there was one still standing, a narrow two-story house with a light in the kitchen window and a faded white veranda out in front.
"That's our house. I'd recognise it anywhere!" said Billy, his face brightening. "I hope you were right, MacCready. About my parents."
"I usually am," said MacCready. "Well, let's go and say hi. After you."
Billy looked thoughtful for a moment, then he nodded. He stepped forwards, pretended he hadn't slipped in the muddy bit before the veranda, went over and knocked on the door.
"Just a minute!" a scratchy voice responded. There was a clatter of footsteps, a jangle of keys, and the door opened to reveal a bald ghoul wearing a flowery dress.
"Oh, what brings you here?" she asked, tilting her head in confusion. "I don't think we've met before, but..."
Billy peered up at the woman, and the woman peered down at Billy. She gasped softly, her dark eyes widening. "BILLY! Oh, my God!"
"M-Mommy?!" Billy was too overcome with emotion to use the more dignified title 'mom'. He threw his arms around her, weeping with joy, while Mrs Peabody lifted him up and squeezed him.
"It's been so long! Why didn't you call me?!" Mrs Peabody wailed. "Oh, wait, the phones haven't worked for years, and there's no post..."
"What's going on out there, Carol?" A male ghoul in a dirty shirt and trousers poked his head around the door, and nearly fainted. "Billy?! You... you came back!"
"I missed you guys so much! There was a fridge involved, I'd rather not talk about it..." Billy sobbed.
"I don't believe it. They're real!" Facian felt his heart swell.
"Billy's parents!" Piper laughed. "I-I didn't think they were..."
"Come on, when have I ever led you wrong?" smirked MacCready.
"Four thousand and seventeen times, but you did good this time, buddy." Piper sighed. "It almost feels like we're in one of those old cartoons, where everything turns out fine after all..."
"That went well," said Facian, closing the veranda gate behind them.
"Yeah. Instead of a ghost, we found a ghoul," said Piper. "A normal, healthy young ghoul instead of anything superatural. And his parents even made us tea!"
"How's the press going to cover this, Piper?" asked Facian.
Piper's face fell. "Damn it, I forgot to ask an interview. Well, at least we did-"
"Quiet!" MacCready hissed, stopping so suddenly Facian nearly bowled into him. "I hear voices. Someone's coming."
Peering over his bony shoulder, Facian could see four hardy-looking people in green armour coming up the driveway. A woman in most of a suit of power armour, two soldiers with helmets, and the long-haired man who was the last person he'd wanted to see again.
"...Definitely not taking no for an answer this time. I want that kid," Bullet was telling his Gunner comrades. He caught Facian's eye and smiled. "No matter what his guardian angels have to say. You, there!"
Piper bit her lip. "What do we do? That is one determined slave-trader."
"Let me do the talking," said Facian.
The four Gunners, and their disconcertingly large guns, came swaggering towards the house. Facian, Piper and MacCready stood their ground, with arms folded or not really doing anything noteworthy.
"I won't beat around the bush," said Bullet. "I want the ghoul, and any other slaves you might have stashed in that rather nice-looking house. You can give them up peaceful-like, or die trying to save them."
Facian took a deep breath. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said politely. "They left- Billy left left a few minutes ago."
"Yeah, with their escort," Piper piped up. "A sentry bot and three security officers from, um..."
"From Vault 88!" Facian said triumphantly. He'd definitely seen a brochure about a Vault 88 near Quincy. "If you want to try and take on Vault 88, well, best of luck to you."
"I hear they crucified the last batch of slave traders who came by," MacCready added with relish.
"Which is a rumour," Facian said archly. "But when there's smoke, there's fire, so you shouldn't push your luck. Anyway, this house is just where we've been crashing for a few days."
"We fixed up the bath and some of the beds. Mine's marginally more comfy than the floor!" Piper laughed nervously. "Which is what we used before we had beds, obviously."
"You can't come in, though," MacCready said quickly. "You know, because of the varnish. We just varnished the floor."
Bullet spent a few seconds in stony silence, then he sighed. "God damn it. All right, boys, we're heading south! Double time."
"Boys?" said the power armoured soldier, giving Bullet a withering look.
"Figure of speech," growled Bullet. He stopped, looking pensively at the ground. "Hey, wait a minute... If it's only you three in the house, who the hell made those tiny footprints?!"
Bullet pointed at the muddy patch in front of the veranda, where Billy had left two perfect child-sized footprints on his way into the house. Facian's blood went cold.
"I've got very small feet!" Piper blurted out. "It's embarrassing, but-"
"Shut up! Get your hands in the air, now!" barked Bullet. He and the other three Gunners took aim with their namesake guns.
What more could they do? In silence, glaring at Bullet and his entourage, Piper and her entourage raised their hands.
"There we go. Now, don't feel bad, you tried your best," sneered Bullet. "But we're taking that kid. Belinda, with me. You two, watch them, and shoot them if they try anything."
"You'll never get away with this!" shouted Piper. "Facian's got a plan, haven't you?"
Facian's mind was racing, but had fallen disappointingly short in the plan department. The Gunners were done up to the nines, packing enough ordinance to level the house. Maybe if he'd been properly armed, if Piper had power armour and Macready had a missile launcher, they'd have a chance, but...
Then it hit him. Grenades. The most double-edged of swords in a soldier's arsenal.
Facian took a deep breath. "You!" he barked, fixing the young Gunner in the green helmet with his fiercest look. "Grenade, ninety degrees elevation, on the double! Move it, soldier!"
Bullet blinked. "You what?"
"Y-yessir!" squeaked the young Gunner. She plucked the ring from a grenade and tossed it straight up in the air. "Frag out!" she barked, and looked proud of herself for about a second.
"You idiot!" roared the fourth Gunner, punching his comrade in the face. Then he froze. "Oh, balls. In my haste to punish Belinda for her stupidity, I moved closer to her, which puts me right next to-"
Bullet dove behind the woman in power armour. The grenade exploded, turning the remaining Gunners into four smouldering boots.
"Belinda?! Leroy?!" the heavy gasped. Her grip on her shotgun loosened for a second, and Piper and Facian launched themselves. They ploughed shoulders-first into the Gunner, bowling her great weight backwards.
"Y-yeek!" Bullet rolled to the side, letting the Gunner fall with a resounding clang. "Shelley! Stop messing around! I'll fix these two."
Bullet reached for his rifle, but a bang and a well-aimed shot sent it clattering away from his fingers. A wisp of smoke coiled off MacCready's sniper rifle.
Bullet screamed and bolted around the side of the house.
"Shit! He's going after Billy, probably! You two can handle her, right?!" MacCready ran after Bullet without waiting for an answer.
"Oh, yeah, of course!" Piper nodded while Shelley rose effortlessly to her feet.
"We have numbers on our side," agreed Facian, unsheathing his combat rifle. Bracing the handle thingy on his shoulder, he fired off four rounds, dinging off Shelley and leaving small dents in her armour's chest plating.
Shelley grabbed a fence post and plucked it from the soil. Her strong gauntlets cracking the paint, she drew back the wooden post and lobbed it at Facian.
"Crap!" Facian ducked. The fence smashed a couple of inches into the wall behind him and stayed there, wobbling slightly.
"That's some power armour. Got to break her poise!" Piper said, drawing her baton.
Shelley was reaching for another fence post. "Cover me!" yelled Piper, charging with her weapon raised.
Facian emptied his magazine at Shelley, striking sparks off her metal-clad arms, legs, and a few patches of road behind her.
Shelley swung at the oncoming Piper. Piper screeched to a halt, the wooden post sweeping a centimetre in front of her stomach. She lunched forwards and whapped Shelley's head, making her helmet ring like a bell.
"Aaargh! Not good enough!" roared Shelley, taking another swing. Piper met the fence post with a high kick, throwing Shelley off her balance. She jabbed the baton into her, sending arcs of electricity coiling over her armour.
Shelley dropped her fence post with a clunk and swung at Piper. Piper ducked, but Shelley's fingers closed around the shock baton and yanked it from her hand. Shelley grinned, not that any grin could be seen through her helmet, and snapped the baton in two.
"Rrgh! That was a birthday present from Nat!" Piper threw a punch at Shelley's face, only to freeze with a strangled gasp when a heavy metal knee met her stomach. Shelley swung her arm and batted Piper aside like a paper doll.
With a cry of anger, Facian chucked his gun at Shelley. It clattered off her shoulder with a sad little clunk. With no good ideas left in the tank, he charged at her.
"Take THIS!" Facian threw a high kick at Shelley, making her wobble slightly in her power armour. Shelley punched Facian in the face, launching him over the battered fence.
"Idiots! My armour's harder than your foot," laughed Shelley. She stomped back beside the tree and bent down for her shotgun.
"Maybe so," grunted Facian, staggering up from the fence. His fingers snaked towards the handle on his back. "Feet aren't my only weapon, though, and armour isn't perfect. This is your last chance, Shirley! Is kidnapping Billy really worth your life?"
"It's Shelley, you cocksucker!" Shelley's shotgun whipped towards Facian, but his Swatter was there, screaming through the air at her arm.
Shelley cried out in pain. Her shot went wide, shattering a few roof tiles on top of the house. She winced at the dent in her power armour and took aim at Facian.
"Oh, tits!" Facian cartwheeled to the left. Shelley fired, and the ground exploded behind him.
Three shots rang out from Piper's ten millimetre pistol, pinging off Shelley's armour. Shelley gave Piper a baleful look, swung towards Facian and fired again.
Facian dove moments ahead of the bang, the shell whizzing over his shoulder. He sprang to his feet, but Shelley was storming towards him, a titanium glacier bearing down on the little mountain village that had sworn never to kill.
Facian lunged straight under Shelley, sliding roughly through the cold metal arch of her legs. Shelley stumbled for a moment and whipped around, nearly catching Facian's knee under her foot. Facian leapt to his feet just as Shelley's helmet turned towards him, her windscreen level with the half-empty can of pink spray paint.
"What are you-?!" yelped Shelley.
"Tssssshh!" said the spray paint, coating her helmet in an opaque pink veneer.
"I-I'm blind! Aaaargh!" Shelley swung her shotgun wildly, blasting once into a post box and twice into the grass, while Facian ran behind her.
"Wow, way to go! You painted her!" laughed Piper.
"And the best part is, you're about to have a target!" yelled Facian. "That helmet's not doing you much good, is it, Suzanne?"
"Fuck you!" Shelley's power armour gave a hiss and a pop, and her helmet jolted free from its socket. She lifted it off her shoulders and lunged towards Facian, aiming to bludgeon him with the helmet.
Piper found her mark first. With her gun gripped in white knuckles, which nobody could see thanks to her gloves, she fired off a shot that punched into Shelley's forehead.
"G-guh..." Shelley slumped over in her armour and went still. The bulky helmet slid from her fingers and landed on Facian with a sad metallic bonk.
"Phew... One pistol in just the right spot!" Piper laughed in a manner ever-so-slightly nuts.
"We used to say the helmet counts for half the suit of armour," remarked Facian, rubbing the mild bruise on his forehead. "How are you?"
"I'm fine." Piper gingerly flexed her knee; banged up, definitely, but the joint was still working. She gasped. "MacCready. Where'd he go?"
All of a sudden, a shot rang out. Bullet came scampering out from behind the house, his armour battered and his hair a tangled mess.
"Too close! Too close! You can't snipe me from there!" Bullet laughed maniacally as he run.
"Don't count on it!" MacCready flew from the back garden and pounced like a ferret on a rabbit. He ploughed into Bullet and planted him face-first among the weeds and mud.
MacCready's eye was black, his hat torn and hanging from one ear, but his knuckles were as hard as ever. "I'll teach you a thing or two!" he barked, and punched Bullet on the back of the head. "Kidnapping a kid, that's the worst kind of nap you can take!"
"Augh! C-come on, give me a break!" spluttered Bullet. "I was just trying to make a living! Caps are caps, I really don't get what the big deal is. Y-you've won, you can keep him, just let me bury my men and I'll be on my way..."
"Caps may be caps, but some things are just wrong. All right, you two, bring it out!" MacCready shouted, propping himself up on Bullet's shoulder blades.
The back door to the Peabody house swung open. From out of the kitchen staggered Mr and Mrs Peabody, carrying a tall, rusty fridge.
"What in the... white goods?" Bullet's eyes widened. "What do you need that for?!"
"To give you what you deserve!" spat Carol. "All right, Matt, on three. One!"
The couple swung the fridge forwards, then back again.
"Two!"
Carol and Matt swung the fridge a little further forwards, then a little further back.
Bullet's eyes widened. "Oh, no. No, come on, not the fridge, please, have a heart-"
"THREE!"
MacCready dove sideways a split second before the ghouls let loose their fridge. It dropped with a clang and a terrible crunch, embedding Bullet, and an inch worth of rusty metal, in the Neponset mud.
For a second or two, Piper and Facian could do naught but stare open-mouthed at the triumphant ghouls.
"You..." Piper mouthed in disbelief. "You dropped a fridge on him!"
Carol dusted her hands and smiled at Matt. "Well? Didn't I say we'd be glad we held onto it?"
"All right, I suppose keeping that old fridge is yet another thing you were right about," Matt admitted. "But you can't have known we'd wind up using it to execute someone!"
"Well, no," said Carol. "But it always pays to be prepared."
Matt scoffed. Carol giggled, and soon everybody was laughing, safe at last with the Gunners dead or vapourised. Everybody, that is, except Billy, staring down at the scene from his bedroom window. Even if he lived for a thousand years, he was never going to touch a fridge again.