A/N: Salutations my fellow enjoyers of odd story mashups! We're back for our first regularly scheduled posts in a while! So... welcome back! We left our heroes off in an interesting position that involved Raiders, Gauntlets, and attemtps at involuntary manslaughter. I didn't want to spend too long with Nate and the crew hanging in the lurch which is one of the reasons they rejoined the story so quickly. The other reason is the Minutemen are operating against the clock with this one. They can't take all the time in the world planning and preparing with the Raiders, Institute, and Brotherhood all making their plays. But we're getting ahead of ourselves. We have another chapter to get through! Anyway, leave a review if you're so inclined and, as always, enjoy!
Chapter 80: The Cost of Business
The door clanged shut behind me. Too many things were battling for my attention. The frustration of being in this position, the anger about how I'd gotten here, the feeling of eyes on me, watching, observations, and adjustments to our plans…
Focus.
It didn't take more than a heartbeat to realize what their game was. At least, the one they want me to play.
Dozens of wires crisscrossed the 20-meter-long hallway. They were at varying heights and angles which would make traversing them very difficult. I didn't see any optical sensors, not that it meant they weren't there. I did notice a pressure plate partially disguised as a floor tile a meter and a half in front of me.
The walls were sheet metal, no doubt thin enough to break through, but I had to play by their rules. Which sucks.
Bending them… we'll see how far I can do that.
This many wires, first instinct was to assume they're traps. If this is a game, it's possible some are dummies. Does it matter? I have ten minutes to get through this. If I waste time diffusing traps that don't exist, that's time I can't get back. I don't know how long this is and I don't know what's between me and the finish line.
Better get started.
Stepping around the pressure plate, I knelt at the first waist-high trip wire. It was tied off on the wall to my left. The right side was a small mine. Probably anti-personnel. That wouldn't do much to me but I'd rather not test how many my armor can take. Besides… if they're willing to give me weapons, I'll take them.
I shifted over to the mine and held the trigger as I snapped the wire off its hook. The mine wasn't technically diffused, but that isn't the concern.
One down, a few dozen to go.
As I stood, I pulled the mine from the wall and snapped it to the magstrip on my right thigh.
The next trap was only a half-meter away. I repeated the process, another mine, and placed it on my left.
That became a constant for the next five meters. I had to diffuse another half-dozen traps, four were conventional mines, the other two looked like homemade shrapnel charges. There were two pressure plates along the way. Avoiding those was quicker and easier than figuring out how their triggers work and diffusing them. Less risk of being blown up too.
Then… something was strange about the next trap. It wasn't an anti-personnel mine or a shrapnel bomb. It was large. Much larger than the others. A box close to half a meter across, 20 centimeters wide and tall.
Bracing the wire and pulling it out of the wall, I slipped over to the trap. It was anchored to the opposite wall with a pair of sheet metal screws.
The box came free after a firm pull. Besides the sound of tearing metal, it didn't make any noise. I didn't feel anything shift. It weighed three or four kilos… is this just a brick of explosives? If it's plastic explosives, this would be enough to turn this hallway into an open room.
Keeping this is probably a bad idea. If I had to use something that big in here, I'd be in trouble.
Setting it down, I continued forward. I'd almost made it halfway. There wasn't much challenge to this game of theirs. If they're hoping to overwhelm me with a bunch of traps, they'll need to be more creative. One or two, you might catch someone off guard. Dozens of traps and your target will be on high alert.
Unless they want me to be. Another strategy they might be using is pulling me into a rhythm.
The next trap was another shrapnel bomb. Its trigger was the same as the others. I broke the wire and kept moving.
Counting on things to remain simple was a bad idea. These people planned and executed a complex series of events to get me here.
There was another pressure plate beneath a wire. I stepped over both.
Kneeling, I snapped another anti-personnel mine's wire-
The mine-side of it pulled out of my right hand.
… Shit.
I drove my legs into the ground, lunging away from the mine. The instant I hit the ground, I rolled to my stomach and flattened-
The mine went off in a boom that would have blown my eardrums without my armor. My world heaved and shields flared as shrapnel pinged off of me. Everything went brown as dust and smoke exploded in all directions.
My shields were still a little over 2/3 strength, nothing got through.
Great job, jackass.
That trigger must have been spring-loaded. It was designed to go off if it was pulled or if it was broken. Simple but effective.
And exactly what I was worried about. I can't do that again. That was a stupid mistake. If that had been another brick of high explosive- it probably wouldn't have killed or seriously injured me, undirected explosions aren't good at penetrating armor without shrapnel, but it wouldn't have been good.
On top of that, these are Raiders. Getting outsmarted by them-
Focus. I'm here for a reason. Underestimating them is what got us all in this mess.
As the dust settled, I pushed myself back to my feet. I have to be more creative than them. Even if it's something simple or obvious. Sometimes the obvious ideas are the ones people are least likely to account for.
My eyes started wandering the hallway.
I could try avoiding the tripwires. That would be difficult. They were densely packed and all off-axis from each other. That's without counting the pressure plates hidden in the floor. Besides, I don't know if any more tricks are waiting for me-
No, actually, I know there are.
Whoever designed this did it to make sure slipping between their traps was almost impossible.
But it seems like they left one place unaccounted for.
The fenced ceiling above me didn't have any of the wires secured to it. Some had anchors higher on the wall but every trap I've seen has been at or below chest level. I'd have to be careful maneuvering between some of them but, provided no tricks were waiting for me up there, it looked like the easiest way through this.
There was no sign of rigging in the links or on the walls immediately below it. I'd have to check as I go for things like optical sensors or pressure points.
Get moving then.
The fence bowed heavily when I grabbed it and let myself hang. It still held. No detonations.
Pulling myself up until I was parallel, I did what I could to brace my armored boots in the too-narrow links and started shimmying along the hall. I paused every few seconds to double-check for wires, pinch sensors, optics, or any other brand of traps.
Nothing.
I glanced at my gauntleted hands, fingers wrapped around the fence's links. It could be electrified. It would be a smart move if not for the fact they'd need a lot of voltage to do anything.
Keep moving.
The end of the hall was only a half dozen meters away.
Several of the tripwires came close enough to me with the fence sagging under my weight, I had to contort to get by them. This was one instance the size and weight of my armor were working against me. Not that I'd complain. I most likely would have been injured in that blast without it. The next time-
The second to last tripwire was rigged to a shotgun. What the hell?
A scan confirmed there were no other traps directly below me. I let my feet fall away from the fence and lowered myself to the ground.
This was… suspect. Why would they have one trap rigged like this? It smells like bullshit.
It was simple, the trigger was wired using a bracket and pulley welded to the wall. The shotgun itself didn't have a secondary wire around it. With the bracket being welded to the wall, there was no risk of a pressure plate.
If I made it this far, they know I can disarm a trap. And this one is as basic as it gets. Why would they give me a shotgun? Is the gun itself modified?
I ripped the wire off its wall anchor. It might come in handy later. Another scan confirmed no secondary traps. Pulling the shotgun from its bracket, I slipped the wire off, spooled it up, and stuffed it in a pouch.
The weapon itself was simple, an under-over double barrel 12-gauge shotgun. I opened the breach and pulled the shells out. Both 00-buck.
No. This wasn't meant as a trap for me.
The small lead balls had about as much chance of penetrating my armor as someone spitting at me.
What are they playing at? The shells looked manufactured and untampered with. Looking over the gun, if it had been modified, whoever did it was an expert. There were no signs the trigger mechanism had been changed, the firing pins were in place, and the barrels were clean.
While I had my suspicions, I'd keep it for now. I reloaded the gun and closed the breach. Two shots, neither of which would do anything against armor.
Stepping over the last tripwire, I finally reached the door. Not that it meant I was done with the traps.
It looked like the door belonged to some service entrance in one of the buildings here. Small and steel, most of its paint had peeled away and the surface was covered with rust. That means this was probably an exterior-facing surface. Not presently useful information.
What was interesting was the lack of visible triggers.
They hadn't bothered to use the normal deadbolt. Instead, whoever put this together welded a barn latch onto the front side.
High-level engineering.
A lack of signs of a trap didn't mean there wasn't one. It just meant I needed to be careful and slow as I unlatched the door and swung it open.
Nothing snagged, no hitches, no excess tension.
The rusty metal door only groaned on its hinges as it moved.
And then the slights snapped on in the next room.
It was unremarkable. Ten meters square with nothing on the floor or walls.
That had alarms going off. After a gauntlet of traps in the hall, there was no way they'd leave this room empty.
Just in case… I turned back to the door and kicked the lowest hinge. It bent far enough to prevent the door from closing again. Not that I wanted to retreat into that hallway, but I knew what was waiting for me in there. This room is an unknown. I don't like unknowns.
I slipped away from the door, shotgun raised. The walls were empty, but not featureless. The one directly across from me, the wall with the exit, was divided into four horizontal panels. If the others were similarly segmented, I might think that was part of the construction. Those were comprised of plates welded over one another.
No obvious holes for optical sensors or firing positions… The concrete floor didn't have any strange breaks or uneven sections that might give away a pressure plate. Even so, I set my boots down carefully, wary of any movement.
How else would they rig a trap?
Manually is one option. I glanced up at the fence 'ceiling'. I'm being watched so it wouldn't be hard. An EM trigger could work since my armor is mostly titanium but I'd have to pass very close, practically on top of it.
Huh… EM triggers. Those would be useful against the Brotherhood.
Well, that's nice but I'm not fighting the Brotherhood right now.
As I neared the room's halfway mark, I began shifting to my left. There was no cover, but I don't like the idea of standing in the center.
What little noise my armored boots made as I walked forward was the only sound I could hear. No footsteps to signal moving enemies. No machinery. No-
My shields flared.
I dropped to a crouch and slid closer to the wall. My eyes screamed around the room but I didn't find anything. There was no report, suppressed or otherwise, and I hadn't felt an impact-
They burst into life again.
Then a third time.
They weren't draining quickly, but something was triggering them.
What would that be? No gunfire, I wasn't touching anything that would conduct enough electricity.
… EM.
Could this be an EMP?
If it was, they inverted my idea. Instead of using an electromagnetic field to trigger a trap, they'd be using EMPs to trigger my shield.
A fourth. My shields were at about ⅔ charge.
Turning toward the wall, I searched its haphazardly welded plates for any sign of an EMP device. Not that one had to be there. A strong enough EMP, with its emitter set against the backside of the steel, would still transmit through them.
A fifth.
But, unless they're using incredibly powerful ones either above me or under the concrete, the walls had to be where they were.
One way to test that theory.
As I moved away from the walls, the bursts stopped.
Was that-
Just as I reached the center of the room, a loud bang sounded from the panel wall ahead of me. I started turning toward it when the panel closest to the floor, and the panel second from the top dropped away.
Behind each of them were two turrets.
There was no time to think. I drove my legs into the ground, propelling myself back toward the trap-filled hall.
The gun emplacements opened up. My shields flared again. This time, they stayed that way.
In the few seconds it took me to scramble into the hallway, the four guns almost dropped what was left of my depleted shields.
The 'low energy' alarm was chirping in my helmet as I crammed myself into the corner to the left of the door. Between that and the roaring gunfire, the silence that had settled over the stupid little exercise had been shattered. I'd been too focused to realize how quiet it had been. Now that was over.
A moment after I was out of the line of fire, the guns fell quiet.
No one had been behind any of them. Those panels had been hiding cubbies. That meant one of three things: the guns were being controlled remotely through rigging or signals, they'd been set to fire once the panels had dropped away, or they're automated.
Set to fire was unlikely. With how complex this setup is, the idea they'd make those emplacements one and done didn't make sense.
Automated… unless these guys were smarter than Sturges, that was unlikely. And I don't think these assholes are smarter than Sturges.
That left some form of remote control.
Slow down. What if they are automated? It's a possibility
How can I test that? I don't have any decoys.
… I could stick my arm out and see what happens.
As dumb as the idea sounded, those guns aren't large enough to get through my armor.
My shields were almost recharged. A handful of rounds wouldn't drop them.
… There's a pun Nate would definitely make.
Probably not the time.
Here goes nothing.
Against every screaming instinct in my head, I shoved my arm out into the open doorway.
Nothi-
Gunfire exploded into the silence again. It took every ounce of willpower to keep my arm exposed as bullets tore through the air toward me.
But they didn't hit.
Two seconds passed
Three.
After four seconds of gunfire, one round finally slammed into my forearm. My shields exploded into life, but the energy meter only moved a fraction.
Once I pulled my arm back, the gunfire stopped as abruptly as it started.
So the gunfire isn't accurate, it isn't motion activated, and those rounds couldn't be larger than 5.56.
My hand drifted to the mine on my right thigh. The room was only ten meters across. Did I have enough wire to throw it that far and trigger the explosive?
I pulled the coil from its pouch.
No… this was maybe three meters.
Contrary to popular belief, it wasn't like I could lob the mine over to the other side of the room and shoot it. Explosives don't generally detonate from an impact.
Ten meters. I wouldn't be exposed long enough for those guns to get more than a few rounds on me.
No… That would be too obvious and they'll have something waiting for me.
With how inaccurate those guns are, I could combine those two. The Raiders hadn't opened up until I was close to the wall and in the middle of the room. If that means they can't aim side to side, I can use the walls to stay out of the gunfire. Yes, I'll be in range of whatever they were using, probably EMP, but even if that gets through my shields, my armor is hardened against it.
I'm running on a clock here and I've already used four minutes. I have to get moving.
Clamping the shotgun to my back, I pulled the mine from my right hip. I looped the wire through its trigger and tied it off.
Setting off another mine a few meters from me. This is smart… at least I know it won't get through my shields…
After another heartbeat, I spun around the doorframe and lunged to my right.
The emplacements opened up an instant later, filling the space I'd just been with gunfire.
By then, I was halfway along the right wall.
Whatever they'd been hitting me with earlier started up again and my shields sprung to life.
I stopped on my fourth stride and threw the anti-personnel mine at the quartet of firing guns. It flashed across the short distance.
The wire drew taut.
It's trigger clicked.
Turning away, I dropped to the concrete ground.
Another explosion sent a shockwave through the enclosed space. The ground under me resonated with a deep thump-
A second detonation sent an even more powerful blast into the air. Everything shook and shrapnel pinged off me. I couldn't tell if the bomb had been loaded with it, or that was the result of the charge blowing something else apart.
Whatever the case, that was a lot of explosives to cram into a small space. Whoever's watching would either have to have some sort of protection, or they'd be hurting right now. Even in a motor pool this size, that detonation and overpressure could rupture eardrums.
Once the world stopped shaking, I pushed myself to my feet and surveyed the results.
While the dust was still settling, I could see the cubbies the guns had been in were twisted metal.
The guns themselves, what was left of them, were in a small crater the secondary explosion had blown out of the concrete floor.
Those would never be useful again.
So they did have another surprise waiting for me. A big one. The wall and cubbies had ballooned out from its center. That bomb must have been behind the panel between the two slots. Judging by the size of the explosion and the fact it hadn't punched through the wall, it had been a shaped charge too.
As much as I'd like to take some time to analyze their trap construction and layout, I'm short on that.
I pulled the shotgun from my back and gave it a once-over. The wooden forend had a long gouge across its left side. Same with the stock. Shrapnel damage. The rest of it looked fine.
Starting forward again, I didn't see any signs of other traps. These assholes have proven they know how to hide them well. And rig them for remote activation.
The door had been blown off its hinges. The frame, like the wall, had been ballooned outward, into the next room.
Darkness still covered whatever was beyond the mangled wall. I activated my NVS as I approached the opening.
It was a narrow hall that terminated after a few meters. The deformed door was lying at the far end.
No… it didn't end. It turned left.
And the floor was… strange. It wasn't concrete but I couldn't tell what it was. The concrete ended about two meters into the next room, the new floor butting up in a jagged seam.
Standing here isn't going to get me any answers. I have four minutes left.
Ducking through the twisted remains, I crept toward the seam. Yes, I'm short on time, but if this little experiment has shown me anything, it's the Raiders know how to be creative. I won't do anyone any good injured or dead. Especially given where we are.
Whatever this new floor was… almost looked like it was mo-
The ground shifted under me. I started to reverse course-
A crack sounded in the narrow hall and the floor dropped away.
An instant later, I found myself thigh-deep in whatever the hell this was. At the same time, something clanged above.
I looked up just in time to see a wide panel drop from the ceiling. I shielded my head-
But it didn't hit me. Instead, the panel flipped down and slammed against the wall behind me.
To block my path back.
Yeah. Creative.
My eyes dropped to whatever I was standing in. I lifted my left leg. It was more difficult than it should have been. Much more. It wasn't quite liquid.
A form of some sort? I know there are some expanding foams modern forces use to immobilize infantry.
No. This isn't that. It clung to my armor, pulling my leg back down. It was hard enough to move, a regular person probably wouldn't have been able to.
Wet concrete? No… too thin. Too smooth.
Three minutes. Another puzzle to solve.
Well… first objective is to get the hell out of this. No telling what could be hiding under the surface.
The hallway was barely wider than my shoulders. Narrow enough to traverse as long as the walls hold. The makeshift ceiling was built to maintain the illusion of a constant-level floor so there was plenty of room overhead.
I slammed my forearm into the wall to my right. It buckled inward a centimeter.
Strong enough. I clamped the shotgun to my back once again.
Using my right arm and left shoulder, I braced myself between the walls and pulled my right leg out of whatever the hell this stuff was.
The semi-liquid substance made an odd squelching noise as my armored boot cleared it.
Once I had my foot jammed into the wall, I was able to pull my left leg out. It left me suspended between the walls.
No sooner had my leg cleared it than a strange roar came from the hall ahead of me. It almost sounded like… the powerful air currents produced by fire in an enclosed space.
Sure enough, the hall ahead of me began to brighten in a dim orange glow. A few seconds later, the flames came racing around the corner.
They were racing across whatever the fluid below me was.
For an instant, panic climbed my throat. I'm stuck in a cramped hallway that's on fire.
I swallowed the jolt of fear. It would be okay. My armor has been through a lot worse than this.
Is the fluid fuel? I looked down at the now-burning surface. Napalm? No, too gelatinous. Something similar.
The flames spread to my legs, burning off the material I'd brought with me out of the sludge.
A deep breath. Relax. I'm fine. This is fire, not superheated plasma.
It was a little surreal, watching myself burn, while forcing myself to stay calm. Soon enough, the flames were covering everything.
At least, while I'll still have to be careful about traps along the way, the fire posed no threat.
These assholes are testing my patience. Or maybe I'm irritated that they're inventive enough to come up with something like this. Could be both.
It doesn't matter. Get through this. I have people that need help.
And other people I need to kill.
Alternating using my arms and legs, I shimmed down the hall. I double-checked the first corner for any more surprises.
None.
The same went for the next corner. And the next.
Each segment of hallway was only a few meters long. It didn't take me more than 10 seconds to traverse each of them. The hardest part was maintaining enough traction on the wall. With the fire raging in the narrow space, water vapor began collecting on the metal surface. It was slick enough that, as I was rounding into the fifth segment of the hall, my left foot slipped when I reached out to brace it in the corner.
On top of that, the steel plates were thin enough that many caved in with the force I needed to keep myself up.
Despite all that, soon enough, I found myself in front of another door.
It had to have been several hundred degrees in the hallway but my undersuit was still able to regulate my body temperature.
That was the easiest one so far. I allowed myself a small smile. Even so, getting set on fire isn't something I should make a habit of.
I lowered myself onto the small, concrete platform in front of the door. This one didn't give way under my weight.
The door didn't have any signs of a trap.
Undoing the latch, I gently pushed it open.
No changes in resistance. The other side didn't have a pressure plate.
Once I stepped through and swung the door closed, I allowed myself another deep breath. I might not have been in any danger but… it was fire. I'm sure there's some ingrained instinct about not being set on fire. I just spent the last minute ignoring it but that doesn't mean it wasn't there.
Steam was wafting from every surface of my armor. It probably wouldn't be safe to touch for a while. The titanium, at least.
As I studied my surroundings, I found myself standing in something that roughly resembled a close-quarters training course. Walls with open windows and doorways, furniture that looked like it should have been thrown away about 200 years ago, and low barriers made out of anything from cinder blocks and cement to mounds of dirt.
My eyes narrowed and I pulled the shotgun from my back. Fortunately, the powder hasn't gotten hot enough to ignite. The wood furniture was a charred mess, but the gun itself was still operable.
It was quiet.
I turned my audio up until I could hear the sound of my own heartbeat.
Breathing.
Debris on the concrete floor crunching, probably from people moving or shifting.
Sounds like I'm in for a fight.
That doesn't mean whatever fight I'm in is straight up. The Raiders will have something in store for me.
There was too much debris on the ground to be completely silent as I moved forward. My footsteps were still light and quiet enough to avoid notice. I think.
Shotgun raised, I slipped to the left as I neared the first 'building'. The door was open, a worn red couch and wooden coffee table were set up in the middle of the room. Other than that, it was bare.
More shuffling and shifting from my right. There was another door on the back right side of the room. It was coming from there.
After clearing the immediate area of any traps, I ducked into the room and skirted along the right wall.
In tight quarters, the shotgun's long barrel would be a hindrance. I didn't put it away, though. I shifted it to my left hand as I reached the next opening.
The breathing was almost deafening now. It was hard to tell how many. Maybe three? Four? They were on the other side of this door.
CQC is a little lopsided when you're fighting a SPARTAN. Yes, the significant advantages in strength, speed, and reaction time are important, but wearing almost half a ton of armor is too. Try punching eight centimeters of titanium. Or having that half-ton of armor run into you. Unless, of course, you're also a SPARTAN or one of the more formidable Covenant species.
Raiders are neither of those things.
That sounds like their problem.
But, I still have to be on the lookout for traps. That means whoever's there is going to have a momentary advantage.
Take it slow, do it right. I could almost hear Katrina repeating that over and over.
Taking a wide, pivoting stride, I stepped through the door and into the hall, eyes scanning for any sign of foul play. No wires, no pressure plates, no optical sensors.
Immediately in front of me were two men and a woman, all dressed in the normal Raider attire. Their mix of steel and leather was a little light, with one of the men not wearing much over his chest. Maybe these were initiates thrown in here to prove themselves.
All three of them shouted in surprise, then anger. Each was carrying an HK-33 assault rifle. 5.56.
I lunged forward as the woman fired the first shot.
They tried to scramble out of my way, but there were barely five meters between us. That distance disappeared in an instant and I slammed into the woman, my shoulder barreling into her head and neck.
Her shout turned into a gargled scream as her nose and, likely, most of the bone in her face crumbled. She was propelled backward into one of her comrades.
The other, the man with nothing but a few leather straps on his upper body, didn't get hit as hard as the woman. My still-steaming armor was hot enough I could hear it sear against his exposed skin.
The man yelped and stumbled away, still trying to fire in my general direction.
Not happening.
My right hand clamped around his wrist and I yanked him toward me.
He barely had a chance to turn back around, mouth twisted in a grimace, before I planted my knee in his chest.
I couldn't feel his ribcage shatter, but I heard it. The Raider didn't have time to scream as his chest caved in. He slammed into the thin, wooden wall to my right hard enough to break through.
Don't worry about those burns, jackass.
Last was the Raider I'd sent the woman into. He was just beginning to get out from under her convulsing form.
Stepping forward, I kick him in the side of his head. The toe of my titanium armored boot caved his skull in.
Three Raiders and ten seconds down.
As I stepped over the dying woman, I dropped the scorched shotgun and grabbed her discarded rifle. That, at least, I know fires.
HK-33 up, I continued down the hall, my audio turned back up to max. Could still hear breathing. It was to my left. There was another door a few meters away. Nothing else in the corridor besides a dead end.
Footsteps.
"HEY! WHAT'S GOING ON IN THERE? DID YOU GET HIM?"
What the hell? I couldn't help but flinch as I came to a stop next to the opening.
Aside from that nearby shout being incredibly painful, who would do that?
Same routine. Check for traps, dispatch targets, move on. These ones are just the footsoldiers. I want the people behind this. I can save my anger for them.
And that's what I did.
When I ducked through the door, I was greeted with a room that looked like a poorly furnished dining room. It was five meters square with a few chairs around a dilapidated table in the middle.
No signs of any trap. There were two more Raiders, one behind the table, the other directly to my left.
That one, probably the one that had shouted, was uncomfortably close for a rifle.
So I launched a straight kick into his chest.
He flew backward and slammed into the far wall.
The other Raider had a bullet through his left eye before he could respond.
I put a round into the man I'd kicked for good measure.
The next room was empty.
Same with the hallway beyond.
A little over a minute left.
At the end of the hall was a T-intersection. High-risk area. I slowed as I neared-
Two more Raiders came from either side simultaneously.
My sights were on the right one's nose before he could fire. I squeezed the trigger and blew his brain across the cheap wood wall behind him.
Dropping to a kneel and pushing myself over to the left wall, I swung the barrel of my stolen rifle toward the other one. She fired at the same time I did.
Changing position was unnecessary, apparently. My shot hit her just above the right eye, I don't know where hers went, but it wasn't near me.
These people outmaneuvered me. It was fucking embarrassing.
Focus. Less than a minute left.
Back on my feet I slipped down the hall and cleared the intersection. There were doors to my left and right. Noise was coming through both. Scrambling. Were they to the same room? It sounded like it.
A lot of movement. It wasn't one or two people in there.
They'll be covering the doors.
Good, I'll make my own.
I tore a long strip of leather that had been holding the plates together over the woman's chest and pulled the second mine from my hip.
Strip tied around the trigger, I lunged forward and crashed through the thin wooden wall.
Splinters flew in all directions. I was standing in the middle of a large room with low, cinder-block barriers on either side. There were three Raiders behind each. They weren't using it as real cover, just standing behind the waist-high walls, aiming at the door.
There was another at the back of the room, much further away. Three more were behind that one. Two of them were low, rifles propped on it for support.
The way you're supposed to use cover in their position.
In the next instant, the mine was flying toward the trio on my left. It hit the end of its 'rope' and detonated as the leather went taut.
Shrapnel pinged off of me but I didn't see what happened to the three Raiders. I was rolling to my right, away from the explosion, and into a new position.
Gunfire followed me, but it was wild. That detonation would have disoriented everyone in the room.
One round glanced off my shoulder as I came out of my roll and centered the right-most Raider in my sights.
He was down a heartbeat later.
Then the second.
And the third.
At least three down.
The three at the back were… missing…
I slipped around the right barrier and switched my attention to the three who had been hit with the mine. Two of them were very clearly dead, scorch marks and jagged wounds across their heads and torsos. The third had been shielded from the worst of the blast. He was writhing on the ground, hands clamped over his ears.
A bullet to the temple sent him to join his friends.
Then I was moving forward again.
But- the other three still hadn't emerged over the barrier.
Instead, the sounds of scuffling came from the other side.
"NO!" someone shouted. "STOP! DON'T SHOOT!"
That voice… that wasn't-
Julian?
Julian?
Rounding the last barrier, I found the three Raiders. One was on top of another, wrestling for his rifle. The third was trying to pull that one off.
The one on the ground and the one trying to pull the other off both had masks on.
Why?
"YOU CAN'T FIGHT HIM!" the one on the ground shouted.
"LISTEN TO US!" the standing man added.
30 seconds.
What the hell is going on?
The one on the ground noticed me.
"DAMON! WAIT DON'T-"
His attention shifted and, with his attention, his grip on the rifle. The man on his chest tore it free with a wordless scream.
Is this Julian? He knows my name. And that other voice- it sounds like Vincent.
The Raider- I think- aimed down at… Julian?
I don't know him and that one might be Julian. I can't take that risk.
I snapped my rifle up and put a bullet through the man's head.
He tumbled over backward with the other man- Vincent… maybe- still pulling on him.
"NO!" the one on the ground shouted. "NO! NO! DAMON! HE WAS-"
"What the hell is going on?" I barked.
The other man shoved the body off of him. "Collars!" he yelled, pointing at his neck. "Get the collars off!"
There was something bulky and metal wrapped around his neck. Collars?
Doesn't matter. Move.
I hauled Julian to his feet. He had the same.
There was a lock on the front and hinge at the back. I grasped both sides and snapped the lock open.
"GET RID OF IT!" Vincent roared.
I tossed it across the room and stepped around Julian toward him.
A click.
Vincent's hands went to his neck. Even through the mask, I saw his eyes shoot wide.
"COVER!" he screamed as he stumbled backward. One hand came away from the collar and pointed at Julian.
Oh shit. Shit shit shit! NO!
I reached for the device around his neck-
BOOOOOOM!
The collar went off.
My hands shot up to cover my face.
My shields flared.
Shrapnel pinged off me.
My ears were ringing.
The image of the explosive detonating around Vincent's neck seared into my vision.
…
…
…
And then it was over.
One instant.
As I let my hands drop away, I took in what was left of Vincent lying on the ground. His head and upper torso were gone.
And… some of it had been splattered across my arms and chest.
He's dead. Because I was too goddamn slow.
Fucking Raiders.
30 minutes. I've been here half an hour and someone's already dead.
Julian stepped next to me. He had taken his mask off. Now the teenager was staring at Vincent's remains, mouth hanging open. He had blood on the side of his neck. It wasn't his. At least, it wasn't there when I removed his collar. Was it Vincent's?
My eyes dropped back to Vincent- Vincent's body. That much blood- that wasn't a conventional charge. A normal explosion would have flash-boiled most of the blood. It was a fragmentation charge. They wanted me to see that.
My jaw set.
These motherfuckers used Vincent to send me a message.
Someone died for that.
I looked behind me at the collection of dead bodies.
Like I needed any more reason to hate these people.
One thing at a time.
Taking a deep breath, I turned to Julian.
"Are you injured", I asked.
Julian blinked slowly and shook his head. It seemed more like an automatic response than a deliberate answer. His eyes never moved from what was left of Vincent.
His face was glistening and clothes were damp with sweat, his hands and legs were trembling, and his breathing was labored.
I looked down at the headless corpse once again. He'd been alive and talking a moment ago. It was so close, and his death so sudden, it felt as though I could reach back and pull that moment into the present. I was right there, a meter away from being able to save him.
But I couldn't. He's dead. I know he's dead. Was it… strange that information felt fake?
Vincent's gone. I have to do what I can to keep everyone else alive. I can't worry about killing Castle until I know everyone's safe.
Right.
"Julian", I said as I stepped between him and Vincent's body, "think about breathing. Just- breathe."
He blinked again before he met my eyes. "Damon- you're- you're here."
"Yeah." I nodded. "I'm sorry about-"
Footsteps rang on metal just outside of the barred door to my left. They weren't going to give us any time to recoup. No surprise.
I knelt so he wasn't staring up at me. "Take slow, deep breaths."
"Vince- wha- he's-"
"Dead", I finished. I couldn't keep the frustration out of my voice. "I can't-" I can't fix that. The Raiders were close to the door to my left. What the hell am I supposed to say? "We have to make sure no one else dies. I need your help to do that." That wasn't a lie. I needed all of them. I can't protect 16 people in the middle of this base. Not with as little control over the situation as I have.
"Drop the gun!" one of the Raiders called.
As much as I wanted to, I couldn't get in a fight. Not yet. I tossed the HK-33 to the side.
"Step away from the kid!"
Go fuck yourself. I wanted to say that but it wouldn't help anyone. They can have their control for now.
"Just focus on breathing", I said as I stood and backed away.
The door clanged open and a dozen Raiders streamed in. They were the same ones who escorted me in. Well equipped for Raiders, wearing what looked like purpose-made combat armor. Two were carrying those large caliber rifles. It was hard- it would be so easy to tear through them, especially in close quarters like this. The temptation was there, pulling at me. Retribution.
Patience is the key. Killing these ones wouldn't do anything. My mark is a lot more important than a dozen nobodies. The support team is a lot more important.
One grabbed Julian by the arm. That snapped him out of his shock.
"Get the fuck off me!" He jerked away from the Raider. "Fuck you."
"Calm down kid", one of the Raiders said. "You managed to survive this, it would be a shame for you to trip on a bullet now." Julian stopped struggling.
Yeah right. "I kill whoever aims a gun at him", I snapped.
"You got other people to worry-"
"I said", I turned to the man who had been talking. "I. Kill. Whoever. Aims. A. Gun. At. Him."
After several silent seconds passed, the man shrugged. "Whatever, you aren't my problem. Yet." A smile slipped across his face. "Can't wait until you fuck up and you turn intomy problem."
Yeah, you wait for that, asshole.
He motioned to the door. "Let's get a move on."
I didn't wait for them to lead me out. I marched toward the door-
But I cast one more glance at Vincent's body.
"COVER!"
His first thought was to protect us. Even though he knew he was about to die. These assholes didn't deserve that. Vincent deserved better than to be killed here, by Raiders.
Taking a deep breath, I shoved my way past a pair of Raiders standing at the barred door. I made sure to give the one to my right a little extra elbow in the chest on the way. He stumbled as I ducked through the door. My armor was still hot. Lucky for him, the Raider had that armor on.
Unfortunate.
"Hey!" the Raider yelped. I didn't stop. Not as if he'd do anything.
A little less antagonism would be good. I need time.
… Fine.
Another half dozen Raiders were waiting for me outside. They were definitely worried about me doing something. Aside from the three more high-caliber rifles they had waiting for me, they didn't have the firepower to threaten me. If those could get through my armor. On top of that, they would all be very difficult to handle at close range between their size, weight, and single-shot capacity.
My eyes roamed the motor pool's interior. These guys were more than likely a show of force. They went through all this trouble to get me here, I doubt they'd half-ass the guard detail. There would be other resources on hand in case I did something.
They may think the threat they pose to the team is enough deterrent.
That's something I need to figure out. If I'm too cautious, that could lead to just as many issues being too aggressive.
Maybe I get Deacon and the others to do a little recon work.
I stopped in front of the other guard, just out of arm's reach. They all had their guns pointed generally in my direction.
Mjolnir or not, I don't like having guns aimed at me.
"You're in a hurry, aren't ya", the Raider I'd assume is the guard leader said from behind me. He stepped around me and motioned for the others to move. "Stairs."
It took a few seconds but, eventually, they turned and started toward a set of stairs to the left. They led to a large platform above us. Probably an overlook.
The stairs were old steel. Each step groaned as I climbed them, but they held.
At the top was another large group of Raiders.
And Nate, Brenda, and Alex. My heart jumped. They were alive. There were no obvious signs of serious injury.
Focus.
There were another dozen or so Raiders around them. With the others, that made about 30 of them total. The overlook was large enough for all of them. More than large enough. What had this been? A mezzanine? Parts storage? Whatever it had been in its past life, it was now a large open space. No cover.
Which meant, if I wanted to break them out, I only had whatever Raiders were up here with us to deal with.
30 armed, regular people in close quarters? I could probably handle that. I'd have to prioritize the ones with heavy weapons.
Problem is, the others would be dead by the time all was said and done.
"Stop there", one of the Raiders said once I was a few meters away.
I did. Nate and Brenda were both watching me, both looked shell-shocked. Didn't take a genius to figure out why.
Alex was staring to my right. Julian had stopped just behind me.
"Ah… Damon." I looked down to see a short, stocky woman. Just like most Raiders, this woman was dressed in the customary mix of leather and iron. She didn't have the more conventional-looking combat armor the guards did. A higher up then? She was smiling so broadly, it was having trouble fitting on her face.
"The name's Castle. I'm so happy to meet you. I'd offer to shake your hand but I want to keep mine." She held her right hand up and wiggled her fingers. "You don't know me well enough to believe I have your best interest at heart but I think you'll like me."
She paused, that too-wide smile still trying to split her face in two. Was she waiting for me to respond?
"No."
"HA!" The woman started toward me, laughing. "Hey, I understand. I kidnapped your friends, blew one of their heads off."
She tried to walk around me. I turned to face her. Something about this woman… she felt wrong. The last thing I was going to do was give her my back.
"I'm sure you look down on us. We're just Raiders, right? You've killed plenty of those." She continued trying to walk behind me. I continued not letting her.
"You think so little of us, you broke into this stronghold alone and fought your way out with our prisoners. Even a Brotherhood soldier." The Raider stopped and the smile dimmed. "I've wanted to ask you about that ever since it happened. Must have been important for you to go through all that for."
She paused again. I didn't answer this time.
Her smile broadened again. "That's fine. I don't expect you to tell me everything. Not yet. We aren't acquainted well enough. You still have some reservations about us." She started circling me again, steps slow and deliberate. "And I'm sure you're a little unhappy about being outplayed by us lowly Raiders. Don't worry too much about that. I've made a living off of being underestimated. What did you think, by the way? About my operation to get you here? Pretty good, right?"
Was her goal to talk me into submission?
"You got my attention."
Her smile vanished and she stopped in her tracks. "Damon… I don't just want your attention. I want you." Castle turned to the Raider who had ordered me to stop. "Was I not clear about that?"
He shrugged. "Maybe he's dumb-
"Don't be an idiot", Castle snapped. "That's the last thing he is." She met my stare again. "He just doesn't know who wants the best for him."
… I know it isn't some dumbass who thought it would be a good idea to capture my people and blow one of their heads off in front of me. After trying to trick me into killing them.
"Right", Nate muttered. "Like you know what that is."
Castle rounded on him. "I know better than you weaklings! Wasting such extraordinary talent and ability on some stupid little Minutemen revival project." She looked at me again, the smile back in place and something new in her eyes. "None of you see the potential here. None of you see the opportunity."
Talent? Potential? Opportunity? The only thing she could be referring to when talking about me is combat. Not that it's a surprise. A Raider wants someone who's good at fighting.
Telling her restarting the Minutemen was my idea might be gratifying but I doubt it would be productive.
"Good luck with that", I said.
"Give me time. I know another savant when I see one." She winked. "Well now you're here, I'll let you all get reacquainted back in your cell. Don't cause me too many problems, alright? I know you're worth it."
She waved at me, too-wide smile still plastered on her face.
"Let's get a move on", the lead guard said, stepping forward. He motioned toward the stairs with his rifle.
No reason to do anything yet. I turned just enough to walk, eyes still fixed on Castle.
It wasn't just that she was unsettling, something felt wrong about how she acted. The Raider is crazy, she'd have to be to get where she is as a Raider. There's something under that, though. I don't know, maybe one of the others has an idea; they can read people far better than me. All I know is her behavior was off.
Nate stepped beside me once we reached the bottom of the stairs. He still looked… pained.
… Dammit. "I'm sorry", I whispered.
The infantryman looked up to meet my gaze as one of the Raiders led us to the left. He held it for a moment before nodding. "To be honest, I'm surprised you got Julian out so… you did better than me." He turned straight ahead again.
"I couldn't do a fucking thing", he added, so quiet he probably hadn't meant for me to hear it.
"COVER!"
The image of Vincent, his last act to try and protect us when he knew he was about to die.
Reaching for the collar.
But too slow.
The bomb going off.
My hands clenched so hard my forearms hurt.
He deserved better. He deserved better from me. I could have- should have been faster.
"It wasn't good enough", I said just before we reached a service door on the building's north side.
Nate sighed but he didn't respond.
Our escort swung the door open. On the other side was, unsurprisingly, a crowd of Raiders.
Just because I wasn't surprised didn't mean I wasn't uncomfortable.
Being in the middle of Diamond City, Goodneighbor, or, hell, even Sanctuary was disconcerting. None of those places were full of Raiders.
Stepping out into the ruined concrete lot felt like I was giving myself up.
Well, I've already done that, so…
Still. Who's to say what they have aimed at me? The jeering didn't help. Shouts coming from every direction. So many of them it was painful. This was sensory overload like I haven't experienced since the first time I was in Diamond City. My body coiled. Any one of these assholes could shoot. They might shoot me. They could kill Nate, Brenda, Alex, or Julian.
I forced myself to breathe.
Relax.
As I did, Nate stepped beside me again. Brenda did the same on the other side, Alex and Julian just behind her.
Come on, Damon. I'm here for a reason.
Moving my right foot forward felt like I was trying to move through concrete.
But I still took the next step.
And a third.
Each stride was easier. I'm here, in this position, because these people couldn't figure out how to kill me. They're scared of me. Yeah, maybe Castle thinks she can win me over, but they wouldn't bother with that if they knew how to get rid of me.
The other four stuck close to me. I don't know if it was for protection or if they knew how difficult walking through a mass of hostiles screaming at me was. Maybe a bit of both.
Either way, the crowd followed us as we headed north through the base. We collected more along the way, all of them talking excitedly, pointing and staring. One Raider, a man only a few centimeters shorter than me, stepped in my path.
It took every ounce of my self-control to keep my hands down. The Raiders around me were already keyed up. Removing this guy might instigate something.
"You'll get your shot, Randy", I heard the lead guard say to him over the din.
After staring me down for a few more seconds, the man moved aside and we continued on. I could feel his glare through the side of my helmet as we did.
We passed a half dozen structures, most of which looked like admin buildings: low, wide, and square. They all looked a lot like the one I broke Danse and the other prisoners out of.
Wonder how Danse feels about being back here…
Besides the mass of Raiders following us, there was a lot more activity throughout the base. Last time I was here, it felt empty.
Then again, none of this was a surprise.
Spending a day with the recon squad, circling the base and memorizing every detail I could from the top of the hills around it gave me a good idea of what kind of presence I'd be dealing with. It wasn't just the personnel; there were more fortifications, supply stores, and a few of those trucks Jessica had mentioned.
Seeing it up close and personal is always different.
I was prepared for that too. The circumstances might be different, but I've spent plenty of time in enemy bases. The closer I can make this experience to the ones I've had in the past, the better.
Make sure everyone's safe and secure, gather information, establish objectives, execute.
Question is… what are Deacon and the others up to?
Our escorts turned toward one of the admin buildings. There was nothing on the outside that suggested it was any different from the others. Its concrete steps led up to a set of double doors.
Four Raiders were standing guard.
As we marched up to the door, I scanned the crowd. Our infiltration team shouldn't be here. I didn't see any of them. It's always possible they didn't get in. I'll have to trust them. Deacon knows what he's doing.
It isn't like I didn't garner enough attention when I got to the gates.
Once inside the well-lit, run-down hall, I allowed myself to relax ever so slightly. We were still in danger and would be until we got out. That being said, there were ten Raiders around me, not a few hundred. In an enclosed space without anything larger than those bolt action rifles. It was a much more comfortable situation
Then again, they've proven they're willing to blow up their own buildings and people if needed.
The guard leader stopped just before reaching another door and turned to me. "You're gonna understand something here, Damon. Castle set this up, but you're in my building." The Raiders around him nodded their agreement. "That means you do what I say or people start dying, got me?" He looked at Nate. "This isn't threats anymore. You saw what happens when we don't get what we want."
"Yeah", the ex-soldier said quietly, "I did."
He didn't add anything else.
I hated letting this guy act as if he was in control.
But my ego isn't what's important here. They can think they have the situation handled.
They'll find out just how creative professionals can get.
"Hey metal bitch", one of the other Raiders, an older woman with close-cropped hair and what looked like a perpetual scowl, barked. "You got him?"
"Yeah", I grunted.
"Good." The lead guard nodded. "Name's York, by the way." He smiled. "Excited to work with you when you come around."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and marched into whatever room was beyond the door.
Come around… Who the hell do they think they're courting? I started after him, the others doing the same.
If only I didn't know.
There was no point in my past I'd agree to work with these parasitic morons. Hell, the first thing I did when I got her was kill a few dozen of them.
They were looking for a ruthless killing machine, though. That isn't far off.
Problem for them is they're looking for a different one.
Through the door was a large room, two large makeshift cells on either side of it. Considering the size and the counter to my right, it looked like this room used to be a mess hall.
In the cell to my right, the support team all stood as I walked into the room.
York stepped up to the other cell. That one was full of other prisoners. They were all thin and looked like they were in pretty rough shape. All of them had probably been here for a while.
And there was a bloodstain on the floor in front of that cell's door. A recent one.
"Well folks, I'd like to introduce you to your new roommate." The guard pointed at me. "This is Damon. Man just tore through a bunch of your friends. He's gonna kill you next. Thought you might wanna know."
Every set of eyes in that cell turned to me. Their eyes were burning, their faces pale, but they stayed silent.
… What? Their friends? And I'm killing them next?
My eyes narrowed. When had I killed other prisoners?
"The Raiders in the Gauntlet", I said slowly.
York nodded and shot me an amused smirk. "Thaaaaat's right metal man. Including your friends, we put 15 of 'em in there." He glanced around me at Julian. "14 outta 15 ain't bad. Pretty impressive too."
My jaw tightened. They'd played me again. And this time it cost 13 people their lives. 13 people I thought were Raiders.
"You put 13 prisoners in there with me." I knew they were going to do something. I thought the spin in that last segment was trying to get me to kill Julian and Vincent.
No. They had me kill 13 prisoners. People I had no way of knowing were prisoners.
Calm down. I need to calm down. This is power I don't need to give them.
… Right.
I sucked a breath through my teeth.
Relax.
York's smile widened and he turned to me. "Damn straight we did. And you butchered them real good."
Relax.
"What did you learn?" I asked, dropping my voice into a monotone. It was similar to how I spoke to the ONI spooks I worked with. Not that I had to try back then.
The smile on his face dimmed. "What do you mean?"
"Your boss was using that to learn more about me. About what I can do. What did you learn?"
He exchanged a glance with one of the others. "That you're a big bastard who's good at breaking shit and killing people. You can take a beating and that armor doesn't care about small-time explosives, small caliber guns, or fire."
Castle's insane, but she's smart. This guy's nowhere near her level.
That didn't mean I don't have to worry about him. It just means a bullet would be enough.
I cocked my head. "It sounds like you aren't playing the same game everyone else is."
York sneered. "You're right, I'm playing the game where you get your ass in your cell."
That was… easy. I wonder why. Maybe I can ask someone?
One of the Raiders unlocked the cell door and swung it open. Another aimed their rifle at the support team inside.
"Go", I said quietly, motioning for the others to move in front of me. They did and, once I stepped inside, the barred door was slammed shut behind me.
Eyes were on me from all sides. The Raiders hadn't moved, the other prisoners were still glaring at me, and the support team was watching me. It felt like no one was breathing.
Is this what it's like when other SPARTANs go to those PR events?
Had I just… made a joke? That seemed a little out of character. Maybe Nate was starting to rub off on me.
"Alright folks", the man in question said stepping between me and the group. "Give him some space. Things got-" he glanced at me "-complicated."
"Where's Vinny?" someone asked.
Nate faltered. I stepped forward but he waved me off. There was something on his face. I hadn't seen it before and couldn't place it. His jaw was set and eyes narrowed, but he didn't look angry.
"... He's dead. Raiders killed him."
"You mean we blew his goddamn head off!" one of the guards shouted, taking the time to laugh afterward. "Shoulda seen it! His neck turned into a fuckin fountain! Sprayin' shit everywhere like someone popped the cork on a bottle of champ- shit what's that called?"
"Champagne", another one called.
"Thanks! We got some celebratin' to do you goddamn chumps!"
They all started laughing.
The flash.
The detonation.
His blood.
I looked down. There was still some of it on me, now mostly dried from the lingering heat. The titanium armor on my right arm caught the worst of it.
Vincent wasn't a friend, but that didn't matter. He was still a member of this team. He was still a Minuteman. His first thought was our safety, not his own. He was better than any of these people ever dreamed of being.
Don't worry, asshole. I turned back to the Raiders. Yours is coming.
"Don't think you're safe just because these bars are here", I said, still straining to keep my voice as low and devoid of emotion as possible.
"Oh yeah?" York said, smile back on his face. "You gonna get your friends killed just because you can't control your temper? Maybe you should do a better job next time." He laughed. "That's what I learned, jackass. You weren't even good enough to get two people outta there alive. My job's gonna be pretty easy."
Able stepped around me. "You know, I think I'd take that bullet if I knew you were gonna get your head torn off."
The Raider drew his sidearm and lifted it to aim at Able. "Is that-"
I reached through the bars and grabbed York's forearm. I didn't break it, I don't need that much antagonism yet, but I did squeeze hard enough to feel the bones flex.
Every gun was on me as the guard leader shouted and tried to pull his arm away. Three of them were large caliber rifles.
"These bars aren't enough", I said. "Especially if you do something stupid like that."
With that, I released his arm. The Raider stumbled away and tumbled over backward. His fall took him into the bars of the opposite cell. The one he slammed into rang like a goddamn bell.
A smile slipped across my face.
Yeah. Not too bright. I can't count on that from all of them. Not something set up by Castle and anyone else she has around her.
That's information the infiltration team would have to gather.
Several of the Raiders rushed to help their leader but York shot unsteadily to his feet.
"You trying to get someone killed!?" he roared.
Eventually.
There was no reason to reply. I got what I wanted. These assholes aren't in control. Not entirely. Maybe that was a petty 'victory' but I'd take it.
No one responded. The cafeteria was silent.
"Fuck you", the Raider hissed.
He aimed his pistol into the cell. With how much his hand was trembling, I couldn't tell if it was aimed at me.
One of the others, the one who had been mocking Vincent, leaned over and whispered, "nah boss. Don't piss her off yet."
It took a few more seconds but, eventually, he jammed the handgun back in its holster. "You fuck with me again, I'll beat one of your people to death in front of you."
They wasted no more time marching from the room. Two stayed behind. They were clearly more sentries than guards. No doubt they had a large force waiting in reserve in case something happened.
"Don't piss her off yet." What did that mean?
I felt a pound on my right shoulder followed by a sharp intake of breath. Looking down, I saw Nate next to me, shaking his hand.
"Goddamn you're still hot." He managed a small, sickly smile. "Can't tell you how much I've wanted to cave that guy's head in."
Still rubbing his palm, Nate turned back to the rest of the support team. "Vince is dead", he repeated. "They had him and Julian in some sort of arena with other prisoners. That's what York was talking about. Damon fought the other ones first. When he found Vince and Julian, they both had explosive collars on… they were only able to get Julian's off before they were detonated."
No one on the support team reacted. Not outwardly, at least. It seemed like none of them knew how to feel. I don't know what I expected but it wasn't 'nothing'.
Then again… Sure, I'm here, and I brought help they don't know about yet, but Vincent just died- was just murdered. And me, the guy they're hoping can save them, wasn't able to stop it.
How could I have? Sitting here pitying myself won't help anyone. It isn't like I'm the one who died.
"So… what now?" one of the team, an older woman with a weathered face and graying brown hair, mumbled. It was almost as if she was afraid of being heard.
"Now…" Nate glanced at Able. "I-" He faltered. There was something more here than Vincent's death. Nate had seen people die before. I… have had a hand in that. He was more angry than dejected then. Well, scared at first but that was when he wasn't sure whether I'd kill him.
This was unusual. Unless…
Someone needs to take control here.
"I need to talk with Nate and Able", I said. But… then what? "We'll start there."
The ex-soldier's chest rose and fell slowly as he took a deep breath.
Able nodded. "We'll let everyone know what's up after we compare notes." He motioned toward the back of the cell. There was a small alcove off to the left. "Over here."
"Dammit", Nate muttered as he leaned against the cracking concrete wall. "What's wrong with me?"
"Another episode?" I asked.
He closed his eyes and rubbed his stubble-covered face. "I don't know. Maybe it's the stress. Not like I've had much time to process since waking up. Doesn't matter." The ex-soldier pulled his hands away. "That has to wait."
The Railroad operative shook his head. "Slow down. If you're getting too stressed, you make mistakes. Or have a break. I'm sure you've seen it."
That was something the two of them would have to figure out. I haven't been around enough… regular people to know what that looks like.
"I have but-" Nate looked back toward the cell's main area.
"Look", Able interrupted, "Damon's here. We've got some cushion. Get some rest, we'll figure this out. We're gonna need you to have your head on straight and, for that, you have to take care of yourself."
Nate shook his head. "I'm not tired. And I'm too wired to sleep."
"You're telling me you never learned how to rest in high-stress situations?"
"Uh-" the ex-soldier frowned. "... Yes." He took another deep breath. "Alright."
Even though he still looked like he wanted to protest, Nate stalked to the back of the alcove. He pulled his jacket off as he sat in the corner, folded it, and leaned into the wall with it as a pillow.
I cocked my head at Able. He offered a small, fleeting smile.
"Sorry. This has been… difficult. One of my responsibilities when the Railroad was on its own was psychological monitoring. Kinda comes with the territory: training and hunting moles and all that." He ran a hand through his medium-length hair. "I don't think I have to say being held hostage is stressful. Nate's been taking it especially hard." He glanced at the ex-soldier. "Understandably."
My mind flashed back to when Nate had been upset during our trek through the Glowing Sea. "He was a soldier for a long time. It's hard feeling helpless."
"It's hard for anyone to feel helpless, not just soldiers."
Yeah, I'm all too familiar with that. "... True."
"Getting taken hostage to draw someone else in?" Able huffed. "Gives a whole new meaning to the word 'expendable'."
"Yeah…" my eyes dropped to the ground between my boots for an instant. "Sorry about that."
"Not like you ambushed us."
I shook my head. "No, but I- we got played. It's something we should have considered."
"That we did. Castle's a tricky one." He crossed his arms. "No wonder she didn't care if we were around other prisoners or not."
"What do you mean?"
"Nate won a bet with her to get us moved from our isolated cell to this one. Our thought was we needed to get as many other prisoners on our side as we could. The more support, the better."
My hands balled into fists. 13 dead prisoners. "And I just blew that to hell."
Able nodded. "Not that it's your fault. Sounds like you didn't have any way to know." He cocked an eyebrow. "Not giving Castle the credit she deserves isn't how we're gonna get out of this. Just because she's a Raider doesn't mean she's an idiot. I get the feeling, from what I've seen and been told, she isn't a traditional leader. She feels more like an… advisor of sorts. She has authority, but the Raider leadership finds more value in her mind than her pull as a commander."
"Yeah, I know…"
That feeling when we first met: the crawling discomfort, her demeanor, her smile.
"She's insane."
That got Able's attention. He squinted at me and frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I don't know how to put it into words. Everything about her felt off. She was treating everything like a puzzle to solve. The other Raiders were wary of me. She was intrigued by me."
What was that sensation, when she tried to walk around me?
"She didn't have anything on her that could threaten me but I couldn't let her behind me."
"Couldn't?"
I nodded.
"Interesting…" He fell silent and clasped his hands behind his back.
The Railroad operative continued studying me with a newfound intensity that hadn't been there a minute ago. He'd looked as tired as everyone else until I mentioned that.
"What?"
Able chuckled. "Sorry. I'm not trying to be rude. You're psychologically atypical yourself which is why this is interesting."
Psychologically atypical. "That's a nice way of calling me crazy too."
He nodded. "Yes, but a different kind of crazy. You're borderline sociopathic. I get the feeling that was conditioned more than anything. The reason that's interesting is, sometimes, that type of person has insight into someone else's mental state, even if it's subconscious. That… instinct is something I've learned to listen to."
After another brief pause, Able grunted. "Did she show any emotion?"
"She'd been excited to meet me and disappointed when I didn't understand why she wanted me here."
"And no concern for the threat you pose?"
I shook my head. "Not that I could tell."
"When she was emotive, did it feel… fake?"
Fake? Fake… Is that what it is? "... Maybe."
"Did it feel like someone had read about the emotions in a book and was trying to mimic them?"
That smile. "... Yeah." I nodded slowly.
A small smile flashed across his face. "We're probably dealing with some sort of psychopathy then."
"Some sort?"
"Yep." Able nodded. "Contrary to what you might hear, there are a lot of different types. I'd have to learn more about her to guess at what flavor she has but it sounds like that's what we've got on our hands." He frowned. "You'd have to be to hold her position as a woman."
"In the Raiders?"
"They don't treat anyone well but… you know."
Unfortunately… I did. There was one raid in particular, a fundamentalist group. My job wasn't to save people but… there were a lot of men and women who would probably have thanked me for what I did to those insurrectionists. If they weren't too traumatized by what was done to them.
"Well, we've started a profile. That's good. Now", he unclasped his hands from behind his back, "I take it you have a plan."
'Plan' might be a little generous. "We're gathering intel at the moment. Six-person team, ten more outside. They have comms. We have no other support."
Able nodded. "Well, you are the guy who took down Quincy. You'll have to one-up yourself here."
"I know." I smiled behind my visor. "We do have one play in the hole. The Brotherhood still doesn't know who took a shot at Maxson. Now they have an idea."
It took a few seconds for the implication to land but, when it did, Able's smile came back. "Now that's good. I like some backstabbing like that. Especially when Castle knows it was you."
I cocked my head. "She does?"
He nodded again. "The Raiders Brenda and Nate ran into. One got back here and told them. It's how they knew to target them. But she said she hasn't gone to the Brotherhood yet." His smile grew. "Beat them to the punch on that one. Do you… mind if I ask how you fed them that information."
"Desdemona handled that so I don't know. It was something I thought of as a long shot. Didn't think it would be actionable but Dez and Deacon liked it."
"No, no, that's clever. Didn't take you for someone who liked more… subtle strategies."
Is that so? "I have been conditioned as a covert asset since I was five."
Able laughed. "I'm kidding. It takes a certain kind of evil genius to be an isolated unconventional fighter. Believe me, I'm well aware of that."
As the laugh died away, he glanced back at Nate whose chest was rising and falling in the slow rhythm of sleep.
"Nate's gotta get his head on straight. We need him. You and me, we're good at what we do. That isn't keeping morale up." The Railroad looked back at me with a bemused smile. "Not intentionally, at least. And he's smart. We need his brain just as much as yours and mine."
Yeah. And even I could see this is all getting to him. Unfortunately, I don't think it'll let up anytime soon. How has he kept it together this long? Losing his family and being torn from his world- well, a world he had an investment in, unlike me.
The mental fortitude to do that is remarkable.
"I know. I'll do whatever I need to make sure he's alright." I met Able's gaze. "That goes for everyone here."
Able's smile turned a little more genuine. "We could all use a little supersoldier support."
A/N: And we're also back to Damon's POV! It's something I considered for a while before deciding to do it but it just made more sense for this part of the story. We also have our first death in the crew. Vince is a character I genuinely liked and it was hard to write that scene but... bad things happen and the good guys don't always win. Castle and several of the other Raiders are dangerous and it would be a mistake to take them lightly. That's all for this week though, I'll see everyone next time!
Next chapter: 2/23, Caged