Chapter 15: Man-Hunt
Jon and Piper walked back into Diamond city after a night of fun and rest, then a morning of some more fun, then picking though choice bits of loot. The location was tagged, and Jon spoke in code about being chased by bloodhounds. Jake got the message, now partner to Jon’s boss handles.
As they passed Piper’s sign was being taken down, and her press torn apart, “I expected that. So did Nat, which is why she suggested they tag along with one of the caravan’s. Carla was though and heading up, so she could pack what could be carried.”
Jon scoffed, “Assholes. Guess you’re given the boot officially. Visits only.”
Piper smiled at some good memories, then said, “Yeah, fuck it. This place blows anyway. Only ever stayed because it was literally the safest place to be. A big wall and a small army of guards. That’s about it.”
Jon said, “It will change.”
She smiled as they walked into the Detective agency, “I know.”
Nick’s eyes lit up in a literal sense, “Hey, there’s those troublemakers. Come on in and have a seat.”
Ellie said, “General, Piper, thank you so much. I know you just wanted some files, but here’s some caps from both of us.”
Jon didn’t even bother to count them, and just handed them to Piper. He had a good amount of caps himself with all of the looting, and she was basically out of a job. They both took a seat, and Jon’s chair groaned a bit.
Nick chuckled, “I knew you were off when you had muscles packed in like a super mutant. Figured some kind of genetic experiment before you said so, FEV actually that worked. But you said no usual suspects, and I’d be rude to pry. So your case.”
Jon smiled, “My case. The 60 year old murder that I found first thing arriving in the Commonwealth, and it pissed me off. I’m going to do something about it. What I told Ellie is basically what I know unless you think the occupants names would help.”
Nick thought, “No. The bombs a hell of a lot for some pre-war grudge to survive. Nothing there. But there are always more details, and that’s where the devil lies. You said a child was taken.”
“An infant, that I know. It was certainly targeted. Taking them and no one else tells me there was some kind of experiment running.”
“And they needed undiluted stock. No radiation or FEV like anyone else would have.”
“If they have a choice, take the infant. Even less exposure to pre-war radiation.”
“Which is more than just gamma from the bombs. UV, microwaves, hell even radio can be limited in that case.”
Jon said, “They left a backup as well. One of the pods was reactivated, but failed a few years later. Only malfunction on record in over 120 years.”
Nick nodded, “The experiment was on the staff. How long they last?”
Jon said, “Less than a year.”
Nick tisked, “Damn Vault-Tech. Those people survived the bombs, probably watched them go off, just to have that happen to them. Took an hour at least to really suffocate. They didn’t deserve that.”
“Killer with a compass.”
“My words indeed.”
Jon said, “So, what do you got.”
Nick smirked, then scoffed, “The most dangerous man in the wastes. Until you come along.”
Jon gave a shark smile, and Nick understood a little more as a hunter of men himself. Nick said, “All this tells me is that whoever did it was professional, they had an agenda, an experiment like you said. Taking an infant for their DNA is perfectly within the Institute MO. Hell, they probably needed it to complete their gen 3 synths! The crime took place 60 years ago, the killer used a 44. There’s one man I know that uses a 44, and has been the Institute's main fixer for far longer than a man his age should be able, just on the timeline I can corroborate. Kellogg, and he was in DC not a week or so ago. He scrammed one night for whatever reason according to our network. Probably a new mission, and he hasn’t been back since. The city even foreclosed his place, like they’re doing to you Piper.”
“Fuck it.”
“Not a bad attitude. I want to see this Sanctuary my self, but maybe me and Ellie can move shop. We made a home here, but DC gets to yah after a while, especially as a synth no matter how many say they respect you.”
Jon smiled warmly, “I would have eventually asked, It’s not just Sanctuary, but Concorde and a couple other places as well. A whole network now.”
Nick nodded approving, “Man, you’re really gonna do it then. Even I hadn’t heard of that.”
Jon shrugged, “Like I said, rumors. Basically only the settlement leaders are keyed in. I’m just a General rebuilding the Minutemen. The fact that settlements have a chance to build is a happy coincidence.”
Nick and Ellie both scoffed. Nick said, “Just. Coincidence. Well, we can walk over to to Kellogg’s place and see if we can’t sniff something out. No offense Piper, but”
Piper said, “No I get it. The red does kind of stick out. Have fun you two. Been a while since I’ve been able to really gossip”
Jon pecked her as she winked to him, and got up to leave with Nick to Kellogg’s place. It was up up a ramp tucked into a back ally that went to about halfway up the stands with blocks of shacks tied into the catwalk.
As they walked Nick said, “Kellogg doesn’t have any enemies, because they’re all dead. Just a fair warning, he may vex even you.”
Jon nodded, “I’ve thought about that, but thanks. Cybernetics, genetic therapy?”
Nick said, “Certainly, though it’s never been officially confirmed. You gonna walk up and ask a man like that?”
“Maybe.”
Nick scoffed, “He’ll have surveillance on this place. Some say the birds are Institute creations. And well they look a little to clean for wasteland critters.”
Jon said, “He’ll know we’re coming. Good. He’ll bunker down. When a complete random shows up and is already that close off the bat, he’ll know there’s not a hole I wont find him. He’ll choose the hole. I’ll pay him due respect, but I’m covered in enough blood that would make even his stomach turn. Nasty war where I came from.”
Nick said as they slowed to Kellogg’s door, “Always is. No wonder they made you General. Need a man like you in charge to survive the wastes. Just don’t let it go to you head.”
Jon said, “I won’t. Then I would be like them.”
Nick nodded with a little more understanding, “Keep watch, I’ll see what I can do with this door.”
Jon took a couple steps back and watched out over the railing into the city. He had a good angle on the mayors office, and from how the shadows played in the room, as well as the edge of his extreme hearing, a conversation was taking place. Jon wondered what the report looked like. He would need intelligence services. Perhaps the Railroad would be competent, and from what he overheard their cause was noble. Helping slaves escape their masters.
Nick said, “It’s got me. You happen to be a locksmith?”
Jon strolled over and pushed his thumb into the locking mechanism, popping it clean through and opening the door. Nick smirked, “Guess that was a yes. You want to do the honors?”
Jon entered with his singer drawn, and nick matched it. The entered and the small home was empty. There was a desk, and some other bits of housewares, including a functioning TV and some films. Jon would be watching those. The Man from Deadhorse sounded like a good western. The room felt factious though. Like every piece was placed to create the illusion of a proper household.
Nick said, “Feel like the place should be bigger.”
Jon said, “Yeah. Merc like that wouldn't live like this unless it was for a specific reason. Someone even cleaned the place after he left.”
Jon took a walk up the steps, and found a bend with a smaller sleeping bag on top of it’s own mattress with a few toys here and there. Jon said, “There was a kid here it looked like.”
Nick said, “Yeah there was one with him. Don’t know who or why. Not our kid though. He was only a boy.”
Jon said, “There was a button under the desk.”
As Jon came down the steps, he hit the button, “Oh you are good. I didn’t call that at all.”
Nick said, “Set perfectly into the wall. Got me too. Look see here, all of a mercenary’s favorite things. 44, extra guns and ammo of all kind, Gwinnett brew, food, water, and his signature cigars. San Francisco Sunlight’s. Even a comfy chair”
Jon picked one up, smelled it’s high quality, and lit it up without a thought. He offered one to Nick, and he politely declined. Jon savored the taste, and the nicotine in his blood.
“Good cigars. They’re mine now. As is the rest of this stuff. To be clear in case the feed is audio only, you’re being robbed. I’m robbing you right now, the cigars are in my pack and one is in my mouth.”
Nick scoffed, “Could yah make the message any clearer? I bet a bloodhound could track that scent.”
“What an excellent idea. Lets rob a little more and skip this dump.”
Conveniently, Kellogg already had multiple duffle bags that his belongings could be fit into. Jon felt nor spied no tracking devices in the bags. He was a merc after all, and would have exit plans if his contract with them ever went south. It wouldn't do if they would track him. He probably found all kinds of workarounds for the things they put in him.
Jon and Nick walked out into the late afternoon sun of DC with bags of looted goods. They quickly ushered it back to his office thought the back alleys of the shack city. Ellie and Piper both smiled when they walked in, but they also hurriedly shushed their conversation.
Piper said, “Find anything good? Like some cigars? I love cigars.”
Jon put down his bags and handed her one. Nick and Ellie lit up their own smokes. Nick didn’t care about dirty smokes, the registered taste actually being designated as ‘seasoned,’ but Ellie happily took a cut of preserved smokes.
Ellie said after a puff, “So, what did we find?”
Nick said, “A trail. You have a hound that can track?”
Jon slyly tapped his nose, and Nick nodded with some more understanding. Everything was engineered. Jon said, “I’ll need a few minutes of fresh air, probably some food and drink to clear the pallet, but I can track these Cigars.”
Nick said, “Fair enough. So what’s the game plan when we do find him.”
Jon said, “You want to come with?”
Nick didn’t hesitate, “You know it partner. Ellie?”
Ellie grimaced a bit, “UP is gone. Not long after Quincy. No survivors, and anyone that got close only saw synths crawling over the place.”
Jon’s lip twitch, and Nick kept understanding more. Jon said, “Who I wonder would lead an attack like that.”
“And who was missing during, and then came back not long after before getting out for good.”
“Kellogg.”
Piper shook her head. Nick said, “If it’s any consolation, they didn’t pull that stunt until after the Minutemen were gone, at least Hollis’s company.”
Jon said, “They wont pull it again. Fucking christ the entire South-East of the Commonwealth is depopulated.”
Nick said, “And then the rumors of a General and Sanctuary start. Like a Phoenix from the ash.”
Jon said, “How long can you keep a watch?”
Nick said, “As long as the ticker is ticking. I don’t need sleep or anything like that. My longest stakeout was a week straight.”
Jon nodded, “We go to the end of the line, and I break off to take piper back up to the network. That cool?”
Piper said, “I’ve got to make sure Nat is settled in, and this might be a little hot for a snoop.”
Jon smiled, something was hot. Nick said, “I stake it out, wait for you to return, and we head in. I’ll bet you make pretty good time back.”
Jon was finished with his Cigar. “I will. Let’s break and meet at dusk.”
Jon and Piper walked out holding hands, and took to the market for Power Noddles. They sat down and were met with his signature line. In perfect Japanese Jon said, “Four servings, all with added meat. Two Nuka-Cola’s”
For the first time in DC history, Takahashi said something different. His logic chain was very clear, Program narrow, and Jon assumed others thought they could talk to him like a normal bot, even a dumb one.
He said, “Would you like that meat cooked?”
Jon said, “Yes?”
“A preference of meat?”
“As long as it’s not bug or fish. Or human/mutant.”
“Mole rat is tonight’s choice of meat. Bug or fish not popular. Neither human/mutant.”
Jon asked, “Is any meat popular?”
“Mole rat, with sample size of 1.”
Jon nodded as the Nuka-Colas were served and Takahashi took to making the order. No one had tried to talk him thought the logic in a logical way, so he always defaulted back to his default response, or default order. Most just say yes, or pretended to hold a conversation, but never actually specify their order. They thought he served only noddles.
People looked at him like was a wizard, or a synth, and quietly got further away. Two ran towards him. Professor Duff yelped, “Oh of course it was him! Hi best student!”
Professor Scara skidded up to him and grabbed him by the shoulders. She had a crazy eye, “Did you to that!?”
Jon was actually nervous for what the woman would do depending on how he answered. Piper was snickering literally behind his back as food was served, now with meat.
He said, “Ah, yes? Sorry if it’s a problem.”
She laughed manically, while her partner did as well. Jon was fearful. These were legitimate mad scientists underneath their normal postures. She said, “Problem! Absolutely not! I’ve tried to modify his program, fix his vocals, but I couldn't! Now you have him serving meat!”
Jon nodded, “Why not? You seemed to know what you’re doing.”
She said, “It’s because of that! I know I cant rewire hardwired programs!”
Professor Duff ended up being the voice of reason, “Deary, perhaps you should tone it down. Just a bit.”
She had a look of offense, then processed who it came from and immediately simmered down. She said, “Sorry. Sorry. I found Takahashi as kid. It was my first project. I basically own Power Noddles, and it keeps the lab funded as long as the city gets a cut. I could fix him up, but he was made to do one thing only.”
Jon said, “Cook and serve noddles. I can’t help you with the language programming. All I did was specify my order. Noodles with meat. He asked what kind, then said mole rat was tonight’s offering.”
“What does he say in the first place?”
“How may I take your order?”
She said, “And if you just say yes, or anything else, he defaults. Plain noodles.”
Jon suggested, “So try a sign, with a note that orders must be made precisely as written. As long as people can read.”
She scoffed, “In fairness to the wasteland, even born and raised raiders can read. Someone always teaches. And there’s still plenty out there to read. I have to analyze those logs. Thanks, really.”
“And conduct research.”
Professor Scara grabbed her partner’s hand and said, “Maybe research first.”
They giggled and walked away, and Jon finally dug into his food. Piper was already done with her first serving. She said, “Something else, blue. And I get kicked out right as you crack the code. The next step for Power Noodles.”
Jon scoffed as he ate his fill. They sat and talked until dusk. Jon learned of her father, an irregular, and his betrayal. And her response to it. His traitor captain was lynched, and the raiders that came in the night were killed to a man, all from her blowing the whistle. When she did someone else came forward with circumstantial, but corroborative things they saw over time. Then others. The dots connected, and the people dispensed justice for the murder. Then she did what she had to do to protect her sister, getting them into DC, and became a journalist to expose a hole in the wall and get it patched.
It wasn’t as long as they wanted for the date. Nick strolled up, hand in pocket and smoke in the other. He said, “Seems like you two love birds are getting along. When did you two meet?”
Piper said, “Yesterday.”
Nick chucked and shook his head, “Fast and loud, huh?”
“No so.” Piper said slyly to Jon’s scoff.
Jon said, “Alright, let’s move. We’ll keep a good pace. Nick, hold the rear.”
Nick nodded, “Up and open.”
They left the city as night was falling, and trekked into the wastes. Jon followed the scent of the cigar out of the city and into the outskirts. Once the air was fresh, he had a much easier go of it. It took him to a pond in the south, with a couple empty beer bottles, and cigar buts. He obviously wasn’t expecting someone to track him that way, or he was leaving a bread crumb to funnel any enemies into a predetermined kill zone.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The next trail took him up the rail line. Along the way there were a couple mongrels there were no match for the combined firepower. Jon had his rifle, Piper her Delta 10mm, and Nick his own long barrel 44. It was taken from Kellogg’s extra weapons, and replaced his 32 pipe banger wheel gun.
A yao guai took more bullets than the mongols, but it still fell to counter attack. The scent led down some steps into the tunnel underpass away from the rail. He passed a hideaway with a decoy, and saw some carnage on the other side.
Piper said, “Ouch. They took a beating. Even the turret is gone.”
Nick said, “You see it?”
Piper instinctively said, “See what?”
Jon said, “His blood, there. He took a hit. Probably from the turret. Only thing fast enough I bet.”
Nick said, “He limped away. It’s been a minute. With his enhancements, and Institute medicine, he’d be back up like it didn’t happen.”
Jon nodded, “But he got hit. That might rattle him. Or not.”
Nick said, “It’s a real head game with men like him. Like you.”
“What’s true, what’s not. Bluff, double bluff, are we even bluffing?”
Piper scoffed, “You did say you liked being somewhat mysterious.”
Jon said, “Fort Hagan.”
Nick raised and eyebrow, “You gonna call it?”
Jon said, “Based on where we’ve gone? That’s where I would go. It’s literally just across that bridge down the way and up the hill. He probably already has infrastructure set up long term.”
Nick said, “The villain's lair.”
Piper said, “All good villain's have lairs. If you don’t can you even call yourself one?”
Jon said, “No, you’re right. He’s got a lair there. Preston and I got eyes on it a while back. Far away, but I pegged it for a Minuteman base instantly. May even have heavy equipment that could be scrapped if nothing else.”
Nick chuckled, “You were coming for him from the word go. Would have ran into him without me or a vault murder. I would say if the institute has a presence there, then they took most of what was worth taking. They took UP to strip it for parts. Bastards.”
Jon said, “Fuck em. I don’t want to approach at this angle. Too close to that Gunner base in the freeway.”
Nick nodded, “They’ll have night vision for sure, and will fire at anyone too close. Or just for the hell of it. Bastards.”
“Lot of bastards in the waste. Glad you two are on the case.” Piper said.
Nick said, “Glad to be here Piper. I’ll be honest, I didn’t know what to expect when Dino’s head exploded on me, but I’m glad it was you and the big guy here. I take it you want to come from the North.”
Jon said, “Yup. He’s been in the wind for a while. He can wait a little more, if he hasn't already split. The Institute is the real target anyway. They’re his payday.”
Piper said, “They’re probably the only people that can afford him. Merc like him ain’t cheap.”
Jon nodded, “We take the rail up to near Trudy’s, and cut into Sanctuary. Nick and I can start our run after. You can stay at the station, Piper. Nat can have a bunk or something in the garage. If she’s been keeping your press running, I’m sure she’d like that.”
Piper beamed. She was going to eventually ask what his living arrangements were, but was glad she didn’t have too. He even had his own station with a garage. They got back up on the rail line and made way back towards the network. As Jon passed his newest settlements, he was happy to see a pair from the vault paroling in the night between Graygarden, Oberland, and 81.
He was even happier when they acknowledged him as their General. One even broke to thank him for taking care of the lab, and finding out what happened all those years ago. Dr. Olivette was always seen as a hero as the first Overseer, but now she was all but canonized by the vault residents.
The group passed and Jon kept being happy at seeing things come together. He didn’t know how they would take him asking to deploy their security forces, but Overseer McNamara agreed that they had to show strength and unity. It helped that Jon already cleared the main raider and super mutant bases in the area, and the patrols were superficial. The cover was simply closer trade agreements between the local settlements, a vault that needs food and the main farms around them. The patrols after all weren’t to go up the hill and past the local network.
Overseer McNamara also readily agreed to Jon’s proposal that they get the workshop fixed and use ASAM’s to begin colonizing the surface with a settlement surrounding the Vault entrance. It would relieve population pressures in the Vault, provide a buffer for trade and interaction, and could be made to near pre-war quality once the press got working and could be programmed. They even had a small manufactory themselves, but could only use the few templates they were given, with no editing software to make new.
The passed Trudy’s a good bit past midnight, and cut across into Concorde. People had began to move in over the days Jon was absent. It looked like only a few had come and staked claims, but they were the first residents of the town. As far as he was concerned, Jake was the Mayor and Sheriff. The town wasn't big enough for more than one cowpoke. The bodies and their scattered bits had finally started to get cleaned up, getting piled and ready for disposal if nothing else.
It was obvious Jake had left them laying around as a warning. They no doubt did send a patrol to investigate why their people hadn’t come back, and had found over two dozen of their guys, along with their lieutenant, torn to bits or atomized from energy weapons. Given that there were no more attacks from Lexington, they took the message to heart.
Nick said, “I take it you made that mess back there?”
Jon smirked, “Not all me but yeah. A stranger with a gadget that could help me survive walked up and made a proposal. That proposal turned into a deal, and when we came to take back his shop, the last Minuteman and survivors of Quincy were holed up in the museum.”
Piper said, “And the rest is history.”
Nick nodded, “Well I guess this is the real deal. The paroling vault dwellers already sold it, but raiders can’t set up a honey pot if they’re already dead and just being cleaned up.”
Jon scoffed, “Yeah, Jake was either to lazy to clean it up himself,”
Nick finished, “Or he wanted to warn anyone disreputable who’s town it was.”
Piper added, “Probably both. This your station blue? Looks nice and sturdy. Could use some windows though.”
Jon smiled and nodded. Dogmeat was apparently home, and gave some quiet barks as he trotted up to the trio. Jon kneeled down and started scratching, “Hey buddy. I’m moving her and her sister in. Can you keep them safe, pal?”
He gave a bark as he rolled over for belly rubs. Piper kneeled and joined in while Nick watched with a smile. A good man, but lord help you if you earn his wrath. Jon said, “This is my humble abode. The shop is already set up with ASAMs, so you should be able to make a bed for Nat easy. Feel free to use the terminal for what you need to do.”
She leaned in and kissed him, “Thanks blue. I’ll definitely be taking you up on that.”
Jon and Nick took off towards Hagan, after Jon picked up and put down some loot. They weren’t close to enemy territory, so they chatted a little more. Nick said, “I’ve never heard of a gadget like that. What’s the ASAM do?”
Jon said, “Acts as a workaround. The temples you need to use a press are already rare.”
Nick replied, “And the software to edit them is practically nonexistent. Even before the war they had a copyright lock and key on it. Only certain people and organizations were even allowed to look at it, let alone buy and use it. Subsidiary engineering firms that designed standard parts, or custom order templates.”
Jon said, “Well the configuration holotape acts like that program, along with other settings that ensure you can’t just pass the template directly because of formatting issues.”
Nick nodded, “You need the gadget.”
Jon said, “And with it, you can build new stuff. Such as scrapping cars and clothes for beds, or processing deadwood into usable boards. Only problem is the loss.”
Nick said, “Industrial presses won’t have that problem, because they have external power. That loss is fed into the shop’s reactor.”
Jon said, “That’s what I reckoned. Which is why I designed some ASAMs to get away from the shop. Process stuff more efficiently, even if slower.”
Nick offered, “Well I can take a look at the shops, see if I can’t get a little more efficiency out of them. Used to be a handyman before I put on the trench coat.”
Jon huffed with a smile, “Talk to Sturgis. That would be his realm, and he may have already gave them a tune up.”
Nick nodded as they continued along their way. They took the longer way, to the west of small lake near Sunshine Tidings. The deadwood and dead of night provided them all the cover they needed. Jon could operate for extended periods, and Nick could operate indefinably.
They both made excellent time around the lonely chapel, and Jon saw gunner markings around the Federal Ration Stockpile, but it hadn’t been manned yet. Whoever was in charge was being extremely cautious, not committing any forces too quickly until long term patterns and observations could be analyzed. Ponderous. Jon would have to re-dig that particular hole.
They sidestepped it anyway, and looped around to relay Tower 0BB-915 according to it’s markings. It would be good to have activated, but it would also send up a signal flare he didn’t want to send. Any Gunners nearby would be able to use it, and he certainly didn’t want that.
Just ahead was the Fort Hagan filling station, another Red Rocket with a full service garage. Jon and Nick moved up to it quietly for a closer view, climbing a ladder on the back of the building. They found no patrolling synths. That would make sense if you didn’t want to just advertise your position, they both thought at roughly the same time and speed. There were function turrets scattered around the instillation, and in particular on the main administrative building. There were other barracks, bays, warehouses, and the pieces needed to house a division of troops.
Jon and Nick hopped back down, and took a quick stroll though the station. There was plenty of junk, and even a precious worship in the garage. Jon smiled, “Looks like they didn’t pick the place complexity clean.”
Nick said, “I suppose not, probably because this is Kellogg’s haunt, not the Institute’s.”
Jon replied, “Wouldn't really sell the whole, This is a pre-war instillation with still working defenses that will kill you and nothing else bit, if it was all striped.”
Nick continued the deductions, “Anyone that saw turrets but no loot would know something else is going on, and maybe investigate instead of staying away from all the turrets that were totally set before the war and still work. How are we getting past them? You got some stealth boys?”
Jon grinned, and pulled two out of his ruck. One from the vault, and one from the corsair. Nick returned the grin as he took one, and lit up a smoke right after. Jon matched it.
Nick said, “Lets take a drag. These things aren’t common, so it’s no surprise a man like you just has two of them laying around.”
Jon finished a puff and said, “Keep it.”
Nick said, “Thanks, pal. Be careful, they say using these enough make you crazy. Well, they do make the night-kin crazy. They’re addicted to it like a chem.”
Jon nodded, “Thanks for the warning. The front door is well and truly blocked.”
Nick said, “Totally rubble from the bombs. Nothing to behind the curtain there.”
Jon smiled, “But maybe the yellow brick road to the roof has an entrance.”
Nick grinned again as both men put their smokes out and proceeded out from the station. They crouched low though the streets and alleys underneath the turrets field of view. They came to the main admin building, and activated their stealth boys. They still took it slow, as anything to fast would still trip the turrets. The catwalk wrapped from the side to the back of the building, and on the roof was a hatch down in.
They dropped down in, and the synths inside were on the ball, “Intruders detected, primary detective, protect Kellogg.”
Jon immediately stepped though the small maintenance closet and took cover behind some obviously positioned shelves leading into a larger reception waiting area. He began laying fire into the half dozen synths crawling around. Nick advanced just as fast into the main office room, and popped his new 44 out of a hole in the wall towards the synths.
Between them both the synths didn’t last long. They put down an even three each, and Jon was smirking as he vaulted the shelving and Nick walked though the hole. They kept their guns up at the other end of the room, and Jon covered Nick as he quickly reloaded. A few more synths charged up the steps and here cut down just as fast to accurate fire.
Jon heard a turret whirling behind him, so he stopped while Nick covered the door and poked his head down the side offices that wrapped around the reception area. There was turret there, and a grenade exploding near by cooked it’s ammunition, blowing it apart the rest of the way.
Jon took point again as they went down the steps. At the second landing was the first basement level of the building. A protection was at its dock, but Jon didn’t worry about it. He and Nick went though the clerical area. Jon went thought the side rooms that wrapped around the main archive, while Nick broke off and cleared the archive. Another dozen synths made their home there, and another dozen synths were taken apart, mostly with head shots destroying their central processing units.
They met back where the paths converged again into a mainframe that also served as a lockup. One more turret remained, mounted to the roof, and Jon used a VATS crit to blow it apart.
They walked in and Nick said, “Want me to crack that terminal? I got a trick I know.”
Jon gave a shit eating grin, “Mash the enter key until it let’s you in?”
Nick scoffed, “Yup.”
Jon said, “The honors are yours Detective.”
Nick walked up to the terminal, “And honored I am.”
The terminal cracked under assault, and the security gate followed not long after. Jon looted plenty of ammunition and ordinance. There was also a stock of guns, mostly combat rifles and a few snipers. There was at least plenty of five five for the turrets. They both took the next obvious path, the elevator.
“Going down” It chimed robotically.
It opened to a hall in the sub basement bunker of the base. They walked slowly down it. There was as turret at the end in a storage area, so Jon met it with another grenade. It’s targeting sensors acquired the ordinace, but it wasn't enough to hit the small target pitched to it. It was perfectly cooked to detonate just as it began to ricochet of the turret housing.
As they slowly walked down the hall, Jon disabled a Tesla trap by shooting it until it fell apart and was useless. Then a couple more synths attempted to challenge them. One was already damaged from the grenade, and Jon shot their head off. A second attempted a charge into melee range and was cut down just as fast by Nick.
They entered the storage area, and as Jon was about to take the first step down the intercom spoke up. It was a voice filled with gravel and callousness, “I don’t know who you are, pal, but you are in far over your head in ways you can possibly comprehend. I don’t need another roommate. Leave.”
Jon still kept his steps, “So you can find me later? You must not have visuals if you think I look like a fool.”
Nick gave a chuckle as Jon opened the gate, swinging back out of the way with it. Nick shot the Tesla trap above the other side of the door. They took more steps down and went though the door that lead into a small mainframe and terminal room. There were good bits of loot scatters about, but Jon would leave it all expect some ammo for his junkers. That would be a good nickname for his combat engineers, he thought, as they proceeded further though the bunker.
The intercom rang again, “When you showed up to my safe house in DC, you knew exactly who you were gunning for. I gotta say, that take guts and determination. The last one that swung for me personally like that died like the rest. Thanks for bringing my cigars back.”
“Would be rude if I didn’t offer a last smoke.”
Synths were being shot down as they walked, and Jon talked to Kellogg. The mercenary asked, “Why? Why are you here? Chasing me, and meddling in things you don’t understand?”
Jon shot down another Tesla coil, “I arrived in the Commonwealth with nothing better to do. I broke into a Vault to see if any goodies were there, and I found the death you left in your wake.”
“You leave your own trail of death pal. You think they haven't seen?”
More Synths fell, and an ammo dump as picked though for a quick restock, “The Institute? Good. A trail of dead assholes that do things like murder dozens of innocent people that survived the bombs sends a message I want sent. I should ask why. Why not just refreeze those people? Why not do a maintenance check on your backup to ensure her pod wouldn't fail a couple years later? I promised the graves of those people, a father, a mother, that I would find who did it. Because I had nothing better to do at the time, Kellogg. You, are, sport.”
They finally entered they final room after traversing the wising passages of the bunker, and killing the synths in their way. A comfortable bet was wet up, along with other mercenary bits laying around.
Kellogg said, “Alright, you made it. Just me and you. My synths will stay out of the way if yours does.”
Nick scoffed, but returned the nod that Jon gave. The security gate opened, and Jon handed Nick his rifle. Jon walked into the main terminal room, and Kellogg stepped himself from around one of the terminal desks.
There was 20 feet between them when both stopped to make their play. His last two synths were standing near the back of the room, simply watching and doing nothing. Nick stood in the doorway cradling Jon’s rifle and nothing else.
The predators met each other in the eye for the first time. Kellogg smirked and tried a distraction gambit, “I get it now. You’re me with more scruples.”
He hadn't cleared leather when a bullet fairly ripped from Jon’s Signer. The shot dinged off Kellogg’s Pistol, and his hand recoiled away from the grip. It still retained it’s grip long enough that the upward momentum of Kellogg’s motion threw the hand cannon out from it’s holster and off to the side.
At the engagement speeds Jon was at, his weapon was functionally thrown away as well, and practically a moment later. The motion of his draw, and the angle of his arm, was not conducive to automatic action. The force of the recoiling slide didn’t have the appropriate counter force to eject the shell casing completely, and it jammed in the port. Jon didn’t have the time to rectify the malfunction, because Kellogg was already almost on him with a combat knife in his hand.
The man was as fast. The blade lashed out at his throat, not that it would kill him, and Jon dodged to his left side. His right arm swung up to slam into the extended attacking arm, and continued pushing it along its formerly controlled trajectory. He was not as strong. He left fist swung up into Kellogg’s lower right ribs. On a normal man it would have broken immediately and been shoved into lungs. Kellogg’s skeleton was coated in an alloy. In all likelihood a head shot would have simply dinged off while his 44 would have certainly penetrated anything it hit on Jon.
Kellogg took a couple steps back while cradling his ribs. They weren’t broken, but were dinged. He chuckled, “I didn’t believe those reports. Some egghead that doesn’t know what he’s looking at.”
Jon took a boxing form, and Kellogg made ready again. Jon took the initiative and charged in for a left jab. Kellogg dodged to Jon’s right, and Jon’s right came in for a hook. He dodged underneath, and counter attacked as Jon expected he would. Kellogg brought his knife in for a stab to the gut, and it was just what Jon needed to end the fight.
He slammed his crossed arms around Kellogg’s wrist just as the knife was penetrating fabric and flesh. It was targeted for his liver. He would lose more blood than normal for a wound, but a stab, even with a twist, would not be fatal. His carbon fiber bone met alloy, and his right hand locked around Kellogg’s. The wrenching motion jerked Kellogg around, and brought his torso parallel to the floor. Jon’s added spin flung flung his head into a nearby terminal screen.
The disorientation let Jon ripped the knife from Kellogg’s hand with his right, Jon’s left now holding firm. His now armed right hand was brought down, and then back up and into Kellogg's own liver. The force stuck him clean though and brought up off his feet, before Jon continued the momentum to throw him into the back of a mainframe bank. The motion didn’t twist the knife, but it did aggravate a now fatal injury. His liver was mangled beyond what could be repaired. Kellogg could pull the knife, and maybe get lucky with his enhancements and stimpack, but not before Jon killed him anyway.
He was done and he knew it. Jon picked up his Singer, and racked the slide to clear the malfunction. He re-holstered it as Nick walked up. Kellogg's synths were still standing ready, but doing nothing. Jon knelt down beside him, and gave him a cigar, as well as a light. Kellogg's bloody hand was gripping the wet knife handle.
He took a puff before coughing a couple times with blood coming up. He said, “You are courteous, friend. A man of your word.”
Jon smiled, “I try to be. I like being a somewhat good guy. I like people smiling and waving when they see me. Not running in fear.”
He nodded, “And that means scruples. Hmm. I tried to have those once. It got my wife and kid killed.”
Jon said, “Like I said, somewhat good. So, you gonna tell me what I want to know? Or am I going to have to pick through whatever bits they put in you?”
He chucked, then laughed, then coughed up more blood before taking another puff, “I pity those bastards. To answer your first question, I don’t know why. My orders were to leave a backup and no one else. I thought the same thing. Hell I would have just invited them in. Never been myself, but its a bunch of stuffy eggheads in a bunker descended from the pre-war eggheads at built the bunker. The vault dwellers would have fit right in, and been fresh breeding stock. They just needed the infant for their synths”
Jon scoffed, “All you had to do was show them any inch of the wastes, and they would have bunked down willingly. Been true believers in whatever cause.”
Kellogg returned it, “Sure Vault-Tech screwed you, but our place works as advertised. Virgil, Glowing Sea. That’s what you want to know. It’s who I was going after when you just appeared on my trail. Didn’t really look at those reports until you robbed me. Oh sure, some super soldier is out there, and he’s General of the Minutemen. Defending truth, justice, and the capitalist way right after they kick the bucket. Like a story you tell to a kid.”
Jon gave him a shark smile before standing. Kellogg took another puff. He said, “The kid is still alive, the Director. I think he was expecting the backup to walk out, his mother. She was supposed to be here, and he let the boy out and about as a breadcrumb before he realized the pod had failed. I guess he outsmarted me in the end. The result would have been the same, without as much courtesy involved.”
Jon scoffed, “The vault logs clearly indicate everything went down 60 years ago. Is he stupid?”
Kellogg huffed, “The boy isn’t. The old man might be. Some grand experiment, I’m sure. So he can observe everything that happens, reactions and whatnot. Conflicting stimuli, I think that’s an egghead term.”
Jon smiled as Kellogg took the last puff he would get. He savored the taste of it, the best one he ever had. He looked up deliberately, “From one professional to another, I’m glad you’re what it took. Just make it qu-”
Jon had fired right into his eye. All the alloy in the world didn’t protect him from the open hole his optical nerves needed to attach to the visual cortex. The bullet dinged off the back of his skull and rattled around his brain, killing him instantly and mangling his cybernetics.
Jon and Nick stood a silence for a moment. Jon said, “He was right. He’s me with less scruples. Always playing a game, thinking about the angles. He was superior.”
Nick nodded with a little more understanding as he handed the rifle back. He said, “What about those two? They look a little sad.”
Jon scoffed, “What are your primary directives?”
The one answered for both, “Protect Kellogg. Error, error, primary directive obsolete. Calculating. I don’t know.”
Jon said, “Are you connected to the Institute in any way?”
It robotically shook it’s head. Nick corroborated, “They wouldn't need man hunters if they had direct feeds to their synths. They could just send a recall code remotely.”
Jon said, “Great. Your primary directive is to serve the Minutemen. Put yourselves in standby and await maintenance.”
They both complied imminently, their lights dimming and their form taking a downward cast. Jon said, “You’re thoughts Nick?”
“A mass murder is dead.”
Jon nodded, “Let’s scram gather intel from this place and scram. I need some air. Never liked bunkers.”
Jon looked through the terminals and found a few reports on his target. Virgil escaped though the institute transporter system and was in the Glowing Sea. That’s all he knew. He also had logs relating to the General and the settlements using some new technology. It wasn’t a leap that his next mission would have been clearing and stripping sanctuary for parts. They would have met one way or the other.
Jon stripped the dead man of his clothes. Decent boots, sturdy cargo pants, gloves, armor and pauldron for his off hand, and a leather jacket with a Kevlar like fiber woven into the inside. It was likely the knife only penetrated at all because of the force he could put into the stab. He left the man his skivvies, and the clothes would make a good causal wear for when he didn’t want to wear his full uniform. He wasn’t going to be General forever after all.
As they took off to the elevator up to the roof, Nick said, “Waste not, want not. I’ll admit, the man had a sense of wasteland style. An intimidating voice and look can get you far in his business, without ever firing a shot.”
As the elevator reached the top, Jon lit a smoke and said, “Do you hear that?”
“Yup. Doesn’t down like good news. Something flying in the wasteland?”
Jon logged onto the terminal, and shut down the turrets before opening the gate. A massive steel airship greeted them in the Commonwealth sky. It looked to be nearly 40-50 thousand tons of displacement, the size of a battleship. Six vertibirds, three on each side, began take off and flight procedures. By the size of the main quarters, cargo, and command deck, they were hauling nearly five companies in the thing, with the slupplies to keep them fighting. With nearly all of them in power armor, it was more like a full battalion. With air support?
The airship, with the brotherhood logo proudly on it’s side, interrupted his musings, “ATTENTION PEOPLE OF THE COMMONWEALTH, DO NOT INTERFERE. OUR INTENTIONS ARE PEACEFUL. WE ARE, THE BROTHERHOOD OF STEEL.”
Nick lit his own smoke and voiced Jon’s thoughts, “Anyone that makes an entrance like that intends to start a war.”
Jon stared up at the command deck. He could just make out one figure in an insulated trench coat looking down at the Fort as he passed though binoculars. Jon gave him a smile and wave, then put a finger gun up. He tracked the man and the airship as they passed, but made a show of only tracking. Not firing. The man pulled the binoculars away, and while Jon couldn’t make out his expression, he had to guess it was a scowl. He would need to visit the police station again, if for no other reason than to make sure they aren’t raiding his network. Ideally, he would get a meet so he could threaten the Elder to his face. Peace or war. His choice.