Chapter 20: Sliver Shroud

“When evil walks the streets of Boston, one man lurks, in the shadows! Shielding the innocent, judging the guilty. That guardian is...The Silver Shroud!”

Green lighting cracked off in the distance as the rad rain poured down over Jon in the dead of night. He had told Nick to hang around after a couple hours of sleep. It was functionally enough but Jon was adamant that getting as much sleep as possible was the reason he was sane and they were not. They wanted to be up at all hours, only ever getting two, or sometimes even minutes before declaring themselves rested. He just wanted at least 4 hours at minimum.

He had been going with less sleep lately. Getting a good night here or there, but always waking up so he would work on various things his government needed, mostly relating to programming templates and instructions for manufacturing war materials. Other people focused on other things so he was not simply only driving his populous towards destruction. That's all war was. Destruction.

He didn’t mind the rad rain. It was like a warm shower. The FEV had made him even more than he already was. It worked in him, and all it really did was give him gills and making him practically immune to radiation. Not completely though. He felt sustenance from it. He could eat it if he had too, but that was another thing he would simply not do. There was a psychological component to eating as well, just as there was to sleep. He would get no more tonight.

He heard the call from Kent Connolly. The call of the hero. The hero covered in the blood and guts of the villains. That’s what did them in. They showed him to many movies growing up. To many of his timelines comics. To many books. They were all violent and meant to desensitize young minds, but that's all the others cared about. The flashy explosions. An adult now, he was only a kid when the wars started. Physically mature but only 16, the historic age of adulthood. Too much media with to many good guys blowing shit up. His superior was a bad guy. The rest was history.

Now the jockey of Silver Shroud Radio had an urgent mission. There was only one place that mission would take him, and that’s were he was going. Preempting the request. He entered hubris comics to a nest of ferals. They crawled up from the floor, stumbled out of room, falling though the holes in the ceiling.

His motions were mechanical. Flat. He held his show stopper with one hand and moved it across his enemies kill zones. Every time it passed one the trigger was pulled and the feral fell. They began to break his guard as his stood like stone in front of the door. His off hand shot through one trying to swing. His hand carried though into the throat of one behind. A clench of his fist crushed its spine and brain stem. His gun hand never stooped working until he ran out of bullets.

A boot went though one more, and it flew into a shelf before being put down with his last shot. His reload was just as mechanical as his killing.

He stepped though the rest of the store and office. More ghouls attempted to face him, and more died before him. There was no expression in his face as the muzzle flashed time after time. He would check the rooms, kill the ferals, and pick up anything of interest, his offhand doing that work and never once touching his rifle except for the magazine. There were comics, scripts, collectibles, signed photos, and at the very top behind the final glowing feral was what Kent Connolly was no doubt looking for.

A final two muzzle flashes cleared the building, the glowing one’s head taken off. He stepped over its body and blankly looked at the trench coat, fedora, and silver banana of the Silver Shroud. It wasn't long for him to strip his fatigues, and don the Shroud. The man it was made for was as big as Jon was. Perhaps he was the man it was made for, Jon wondered. It was made for him, he knew.

His combat armor fit under the billowing trench coat. He kept his boots and bloused the trousers into them. The sleeve was rolled up and Pip-Boy went back on. A fair few had Pip-Boys, if most stayed in the vault, and others aviators. He trusted the Shroud to hide his identity. He placed the hat low over his brow, and looted the place for a last few of its treasures. One item was Grognak’s Axe, and the Silver Shroud silently thanked his sometimes friend, sometimes enemy for the boon.

He marched up the ladder to the roof, and stiffly jumped down into the broken Boston streets. The Silver Shroud walked back down the main drag as more lightning cracked, and more rain fell. His rifle was in his gun hand, and his off hand held the Axe. A pack of mongrels leapt from a side street, and the Shroud turned his upper body in response. Five shots rang out and five shots killed more targets of the Shroud’s justice. Each shot carried with it another bolt of green lighting, and their trails splashed and arced and cracked across the sky for another minute for two as he walked. A small smile, a small jingle, a cartoon Q on his aviators. The gods were pleased with what they saw.

He stopped at the gate of retched town in dire need of the cleansing light of the Silver Shroud. He lifted up his hat ever so slightly, showing them his Shroud and dark glasses. They guards up top looked stupefied as more lighting thundered in the rain. The looked to each other. Then simply looked off to nowhere in particular. Lest not the least the Silver Shroud.

He stalked though the main streets, not caring who saw and some would start to stumble away at the sight of him or rush inside. Those few still on the streets in the late rad rain. He walked up to the main door of the Memory Den, and one guard nearby was even polite enough to opened the thing for the Shroud of Death armed and loaded for war.

The rain cut off and his Axe was held low and firm, and his rifle pointed up to the roof. He marched to just inside the main haul, still wet and with his Pip-Boy lowly ticking. The proprietor of the establishment in a love seat at the far end looked up from her readings and musings.

She said with an airy accent, “My dear. Look at you. As wet as I’m about to be. If I were a younger woman darling.”

Jon smiled, but the Shroud did not. The Silver Shroud growled out, “I am looking for...Kent Connolly.”

She smirked, “In the side room there, dear.”

The Shroud nodded slowing and turned on his heel towards his target’s vector. The door was slightly ajar and he toed it open before marching in and waiting for the man to turn around. His Axe was low, rifle high, feet shoulder width apart and he was staring down at the jockey.

“Got me loaded up Ir-oh man, oh man! Ha! HA!” Kent began a laugh that near brought him to tears. He bagged his desk a few times in revelry.

He got himself together enough to say, “You...You hear my broadcast Shroud? Ha!”

The Shroud growled, “I heard a call...for justice.”

Now Kent was brought to tears from laughter, and Jon broke character to laugh himself at the absurdity of being a real super hero. He put his weapons down and pulled the Shroud, glasses, and hat, from his head.

Jon said, “Yeah….Yeah I heard your broadcast. I already passed Hubris Comics once, and figured that was the only place you could ask me to go. What did you think?”

Kent huffed a few times to bring himself under control. He said, “Pal, you Are the Shroud. That’s what I think. A different interpretation with the kill bot impersonation, but hey, new century new Shroud. Not the first reboot.”

Jon nodded, “Terminator. A film from where I’m from. In the first movie he was a bad guy sent back in time by SKYNET to kill the mother of the resistance leader. In the second film the same model was reprogrammed, and was a good guy that protected the resistance leader as a kid.”

Kent smiled, “Incredible. I never heard of that.”

Jon returned the smile, “I’m a super soldier from a different timeline.”

Kent’s eyes shot wide and his smiled got wider, “Man, you got an origin story and everything! Like the Grey Cowl, the Shroud’s counterpart from anniversary issue 1000!”

Jon picked though his ruck, “Here, a bunch more memorabilia too. The comics I want back after you read them. Finders keepers, and I have a collection building.”

Kent hurriedly cleared his desk to inspect the finds, booting up his terminal as well. It was more than he ever could have hopped for. The guy was just a guy underneath it all, the character made up, but for a brief moment the Silver Shroud had personally answered his call carrying treasure with him.

He said, “Oh man, scripts from the radio show, some unaired! And the TV show that never got out of production. Logs from the casting feuds, I heard those were nasty. They were by this. Signed photos, some props even, and these comics are one hell of a collection. You'll get them back as you found them, I swear. Thanks pal, really. You made my whole life just walking in the door there. Here's some caps.”

Jon waved him off, “Keep them. It was fun playing a super hero for bit, and the comics were worth the trip. Let me get changed, and you’ll get the suit as well.”

Kent grimaced a bit, “I survived the bombs. That's how I became a ghoul. I remember what we lost. How far things fell. Here’s the deal. I was hoping whoever answered and found the consume was worth actually wearing it. And just my luck you walked in. It’s a crazy and stupid idea, I know, but we need the Shroud. The bad guys need something to fear like everyone else fears them.”

Jon stopped taking the coat off and his smile was dark, so was Kent’s. He said, “That's why the Shroud was always the best. His code didn’t get in the way of doing what’s right. Which is killing the bad guys sometimes. Looks like you already got some real armor, and you’re a super soldier, so I don’t actually need to do anything to get started. I know you got your rifle, and like I said, new century new Shroud, but I got a Tommy gun like in the show. With a bit extra, incendiary ammo.”

Jon nodded, “Must not have been easy to find that ammo to keep a typewriter stocked.”

Kent shook his head, “Not the ammo, Shroud. The gun. It’s in the bolt. It makes your ammo incendiary.”

Jon looked shocked, “Well of course. That’s just another thing that's somehow more advanced.”

Kent chuckled, “Yeah I guess that would be strange hearing it the first time. The ammo would make sense, but not the gun. I take it you got a lot of stuff that is more advanced?”

Jon said, “We had personal computers the size of that terminal that could run rings around your fastest mainframe, do things you could only dream of, but not self aware programs that can run on them. Terminator was just a movie, other stuff too. Fusion. Material science. Let’s put it this way, we’d obliterate you in a war and find what you developed interesting, advanced, definitely reverse engineered for ourselves, but poorly designed, used, and managed.”

Kent threw up his hands, “That was what I was saying! We solved the energy crisis with fusion stuff! We could have just shared it and there wouldn't have been all the war, and then the bombs. I may have been a young man when the bombs fell, but I wasn't stupid. They were coming after me for being a commie. For just saying we should share what he had and stop the war, use it better than we were. I mean come on, why does anyone need a three row car with 6 wheels! A new one every year!”

Jon said, “Lucky or unlucky.”

“No clue, Shroud, no clue knowing about what the Enclave was really like. They were real bad guys, super-villains. So, I got a couple goons I know need some justice. I’ll put it on the broadcast. Good like out there, Shroud.”

The Shroud donned his mask and hat once again, picking up the Silver Gun and Grognak’s Axe. He left his ruck with Kent for save keeping and marched to the door.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Kent muttered, “Man I get to be a real Rhett Reinhart.”

The Shroud stopped his march right as he was about to exit. he turned his head slightly, “Nay...you are Kent Connolly.”

The Sliver Shroud continued his steps though the smokey Den and back out into the dreary night. Rad lighting shot off as the door closed and he marched out into the streets.

He began his prowl with is radio tuned. The Shroud simply picked an alleyway and let providence guide him towards his prey.

“When evil walks the streets of Boston, one man lurks, in the shadows! Shielding the innocent, judging the guilty. That guardian is...The Silver Shroud!”

“Everyone heard how Wayne Delancy murdered Ms. Selmy and her kid. Over a few lousy caps. Death is coming for you Wayne.”

“The Silver Shroud!”

The radio clicked off, and providence had indeed guided him. He rounded the alley to a dead end, Gun high and Axe low. The man looked up from the corpse he was looting, and stood up a moment later. Like out of the posters.

He smirked, “Nice duds. Maybe I found a new friend.”

The Shroud growled, “You...are the miscreant that murders innocent mothers and their children?”

The man scoffed, with a hard look in his eye. His hands were tightening around his gun, “What of it?”

The Shroud judged, “Your crimes have gone unpunished for. To. Long.”

The Shroud took advantage of the eldritch technology on his wrist, and fired a VATS crit off targeted in the foul murderer’s head after dropping the Sliver Gun level with the ground. A grim reaper appeared on his HUD and the crit was replaced a moment later.

The Gun came back up to its resting position and he continued his prowl though the dark side of Goodneighbor. The corpse of the murderer was left with his smoldering head next to his victim as a calling card.

The radio clicked again, “There's a Chem dealer by Bobby No-Nose. He’s found a whole new market for himself, and I heard he’s doing well. Kids. Even with garbage chems he’s raking in the caps. Death is coming for you AJ.”

“The Silver Shroud!” To another crack of rad lightning.

The hand of Justice guided him once again to where her Shroud was needed most. He turned the corner and found the cretin with two of his goons. They clocked him at the same time and laughed merrily. The goons were heavily armed, with combat rifles chambered in five five.

The Shroud growled, “You...are the cretin that peddles poison to children?”

“Ohhhh, death is coming for me.”

“He looks like, whachamahcallit, clowns. Like a clown. Did Kent put you up to this? How about this pal, fifty caps to fuck off.”

The Shroud sentenced, “You will face the wrath of…the Silver Shroud!”

His gun came down again and two more VATS crits lashed out at AJ’s goons before they had a chance to react. The Grim Reaper once again returned them to him. The Shroud didn’t hesitate to begin a purposeful charge before AJ could even fully react to his goons dying as fast as the lighting that struck behind the Silver Shroud as he walked. It outlined him in an evil green, his head was low and hat covering any hint of his face.

AJ forgot about his gun entirely as he put his hands up and started backing away, “No...Please...I’m sorry I’ll stop I swear.”

The Shroud had already sentenced. He kept his march and AJ stumbled onto his back. The Axe swung a moment later and cut off the scream of fear as soon as it began. The shroud walked out with the blood of the unjust staining him.

Just as he took to the main street again, the radio clicked again, “Justice is coming to Goodneighbor. Don’t believe me? Look for the calling card. The Shroud always goes for the head. The Villainous assassin know as Kendra was recently spotted at the third rail. She bombed Little Joe’s shack and killed four innocent drifters. Death is coming for her.”

“The Silver Shroud!” Lighting responded as the Shroud made his decent into the depths of a retched hive of scum and villainy.

The Jazz hook brought in it. It was as smooth as their front’s voice, and a Sax interceded to bring in the song, “Took a walk, out in the fens. Had to talk with a man about some chems. He said what’s your flavor, I said I need a favor! I’m a little short of caps, but I’m a good good Good-neighbor…”

The Shroud was polite and checked his weapons at the entrance, leaving him only his sidearm, the Silver Singer. He would not need to it extract some simple information from the bartender.

Charlie said, “Heh, heh. Like right out the posters there guv.”

“I am looking for a miscreant named...Kendra.”

Charlie kept washing his mug, “People that run with Kendra have a habit of endin up dead.”

The Shroud growled, “It is...unwise to stand between the Shroud and his lady Justice.”

Charlie eyed him for a moment more, “Heh, heh, heh, Lexington Apartments, Shroud.”

The Shroud turned away as the chorus was starting again and mechanically marched back up the step's to retrieve his weapons. He left Goodneighbor and passed though the ruins of Boston once again. As any stood in his way, they died and his crits were returned to him by death itself. The rain and lighting had never stopped all the while.

He found his way to the apartments and kicked the door in. Two raiders were standing in the common kitchen and gather place, and they died as soon as the Shroud had targeted them. Their heads either exploded, or were burnt to a crisp as the Shroud made way up the steps and killed them one by one. The drum was for 100 rounds, and each use of it was for accurate bursts controlled by VATS. He need not reload for a while yet.

The final hall had a turret at the end of it and some mines. VATS bursts put them down just as quickly as the raiders. One mine was set to close and spelled the end of the last of the villainous defenses.

He marched though to Kendra, who was standing ready. The Sliver Gun was up and the Axe was low. She was wearing a mix of combat and metal armor, and in her hands was an impeccably maintained laser rifle.

She said, “You have no idea who you’re dealing with. I do so like it when the little bug crawls so willingly into the spiders web”

The Shroud spoke, “You have taken your last life...villain.”

She smiled as she pulled the trigger, “You stole my line.”

She was good, in that she aimed center mass as she should. The hidden Shroud’s Armor withstood the assault, and the Gun came down to make it’s reply. Death had come for her, and her head was a smoldering wreck like the rest

He took what was worth taking and tore though the streets of Boston once again, and once again the guards refused to acknowledged the presence of the Shroud. As he walked into the late hour the radio clicked again.

“Word on the street is that Mayor Hancock want’s a word the Shroud.”

“The Silver Shroud!” And green lightning cried again.

The Shroud marched immediately to the Old State house and up the stairs to the Mayors office. It was after all not the first time the Shroud had such a meeting. There was no doubt a villain to slay.

The Shroud stood in the entrance to the office. Gun up, Axe down. Hancock had his signature smile and scoffed. He was in some night cloths rather than his own costume.

He said, “I got to get woken up in the middle of the right to be told some costume freak is operating in Goodneighbor, and the kicker is it ain’t me! How should I feel about this?”

The Shroud growled, “This neighborhood is ill...and Justice is the cure.”

Hancock laughed, “I love it! Like the Shroud himself walked out of the comics and into my office. He did! Absolutely priceless. Look, you've been scaring people, bashing faces, I respect that. But why the get up? From one freak to another.”

The Shroud growled again, “None shall pierce…the Shroud.”

Hancock howled again, “You don’t stop! Stay you man, I dig. But let me be real, all those goons you capped all belonged to the same asshole, and he’s gonna want some revenge, yah feel? Fortunately for you, that asshole is someone I want dead and have some info on. Sinjin. Hes a ghoul like little old me, but pre-war vintage. Army vintage. He’s taking two bit raider outfits and making them...scary. Small fish right now, but if left alone…”

“He will...be judged by the Shroud.”

Hancock shook his head with mirth, “Trust me, pal, he need a lot of judging. Word travels fast in Goodneighbor, both directions. Smiling Kate is putting together a posse here, and Northy is already running scared with his own goons here. Keep stacking Sinjin’s goons until he pokes his head up for the Shroud to take.”

“They are not safe...from the Silver Shroud.”

The Shroud turned on his heels and stalked out the door to the Old State House. He didn’t hesitate to keep his pace out of the gate and over to the first and closest location. It was near Bunker Hill.

He walked across the bridge, and there was no one else to accost him on the way. The posse was gathering just outside the town discussing their plans, and who was after them.

The Shroud rounded the corner and opened fire before they had any time to react. There was a posse of nearly a dozen, and every single one of them fell to the VATS crits. When he ran out of crits to target he carried out his attacks, the Grim Reaper giving them right back. They had just got their guns up for a response when the Shroud targeted and launched his second round of attacks.

When it was done Smiling Kate was scared. Her entire posse was dropped around her in less than five seconds, and the Axe was flying into her face. That fear was what she died with. The Shroud marched to his Axe and dug it out of her face.

His next target was deeper in Cambridge, but the rain and the dark effectively covered his movements. Only every once in a while would the lightning flash and outline the man in black as he inexorably marched toward his foes.

Northy’s guards died, more mob thugs and a couple raiders. He tried to run but he was not swifter than Justice. He only died tired with an Axe in the back of his head. The Shroud picked his weapon from the coward’s head and stalked back though the streets of Boston. It was nearing dawn at this point as a last few miscreants in his way fell and he returned to Goodneighbor.

His radio clicked and he stood silently in the lingering rad rain. Jon underneath was kicking himself for his complete arrogance causing what was was hearing. Playing the game, as Hancock said. That's the price of doing business with me, Jon said.

There was a smack on the other side, “So, this is the big bad Silver Shroud's HQ? What a joke. And you’re the Shroud’s little friend. My my. If you want to see you're friend alive, meet me at Milton General. Tick tock. Tick tock.”

“Don’t do it Shroud! It’s a trap!”

A gunshot rang out, “Ah, my knee! Fuck you pal! Death is coming for your Sin-”

Another smack, “We have business to finish, Shroud. Don’t keep me waiting.”

He turned on his heel and stopped short of marching when Hancock yelled out, “Hey! Shroud!”

The conflicted man turned his head to look at the charging Mayor of Goodneighbor. He was in the process of loading his combat shotgun, an acceptable weapon as compared to it’s rifle counterpart.

He charged the handle, never stopping his march, “That fucker took one of my people. Kent! The happy little guy that survived it all! You ain't going alone.”

The man steeled himself. He was committed until the end of this folly. Just like them, in the end. He growled, “The Shroud...and the Mayor.”

They marched out the door and into the ruined streets of Boston. Hancock led the way as the stern Shroud held the rear, Gun up and Axe low. The Mayor was well familiar with the area and they avoided most combat as they trekked from the city and into the south of the Commonwealth.

It was early morning when they stood in front of the hospital door. The Shroud stood at the ready as Hancock ripped it opened. He marched in to a waiting ambush. They were not fast enough to vex the Shroud. One had a rocket launcher, and just as it was leaving it’s tube it was targeted with a VATS crit. The rocket exploded and ruined its launcher and it’s operator.

The crit was not returned as others had been. Justice required blood. The shroud rotated his torso slightly and targeted the next raider, then the next. Hancock was pulling in and firing at his left side. He went left and the Shroud was turning right. VATS deactivated and a couple shot had made it though as Hancock killed two of his own. The bullets penetrated his coat, missed his armor, but did no lasting damage that wasn't healed as the next door was opened.

More raiders were waiting but they were not as fast as the Shroud. He didn’t target the first raider with a crit. The burst shots hit anyway, killed anyway, and the Grim Reaper returned the crit he had lost on the rocket. A slow motion twist of his torso ended the second raider that was trying to be smart.

The Shroud held his Axe low, and his Gun parallel to the floor as he walked the hall and scanned his corners. They took an elevator down to a basement floor, and the villain’s lair was only down some steps and though to the next room.

He marched it with Hancock behind him, and swept into the room as the veil of death. He and his weapons were covered in the blood of the unjust, the wicked, the evil. Kent was kneeled down in front of Sinjin, battered but unbroken. Sinjin’s gang was around him in the catwalks of the warehouse room, nearly two dozen in all. He was wise to hold his strength in reserve and concentrate it.

The Shroud stood there, hat down, Gun up, Axe low, with the Mayor beside him scowling, “Sinjin. You, are, craven.”

“The Silver Shroud. Kent has some wild things to say about you. Some kind of super solder? Yeah, you and I both know your just a man.”

He was right, but did his raiders know that? The Shroud growled, “I have cut a path though all of your thugs...who is to say I am not the shroud.”

Nervous shifting passed though the crowd like a wave. Sinjin said, “Any one runs and I’m finding your families. So here’s how its gonna be. I’m going to kill your boy Kent, then you both. Thanks really, for bringing my next target right to me.”

The Shroud pierced the veil, “DEATH HAS COME FORRR YOU EVILDOERS, AND I, AM IT’S SHROUD!”

He lifted his hat and brought the Gun low, the raiders had broke and were crying, “Fuck!”

“Run!”

“It really is the Shroud!”

The Shroud’s VATS targeted Sinjin’s head, and the critical sawed his it off from his shoulders just as he was pulling his gun up to execute Kent. The Grim Reaper was satisfied with the sacrifice to Justice, and returned the star to him. His former gang was scrambling to the other exits and Hancock took a couple pot shot’s at them, drawing his own blood with the buckshot.

Jon broke his form, pulled the Shroud, and charged up to the platform to a heavily breathing Kent. He said, “Kent, you alright pal? Here stimpack.”

Kent happily took the stimpack and said, “Yeah. Now I am. Thanks Shroud.”

“Jon.”

Kent looked at him, “Kid, I already told you, you Are the Shroud. Great power, great responsibility. You know it. You had your own comics.”

Jon smiled. It was easy to forget the happy little guy had two centuries on him, “Spider-man.”

Kent said, “Sounds like something I’d want to read. I don’t think I got this in me. I never been tortured before. But I knew you wouldn't give up, so I didn’t, not Kent Connolly dammit. Thanks, for the greatest adventure I’ve ever been on. But no more.”

Hancock was satisfied everyone had ran or was dead and said, “Kent, come on man. That's the price of throwing down with the bad guys. It’s always a couple scars.”

The Shroud said, “And where would the Shroud be without his faithful friend...Kent Connolly.”

Kent chuckled as he slowly got back up, “Oh man. Well I never said I was completely out, just no more adventure. I got an idea looking at those unaired scripts.”

The Shroud growled, “A new century…a new Shroud.”