Chapter 27: Toe to Toe, Nuclear Combat Zone.
Jon was walking towards Boston Commons, and at his side was Piper and Dogmeat. His real target was further east, but he promised his girl he would come back there for a date with Swan, and it was on the way to his target since he cut though 81 way instead of the North. Piper had her Delta casually held, Dogmeat was on alert and teasing the path ahead, and Jon had his personal T-51 and in his hands was a fat man. He had several more mini nukes on his person ready for tactical exchange.
He thought about giving his personal plat up to the cause, but he did find it himself, and there were circumstances her would need it, like taking on the Commonwealth’s bigger bads while foot mobile. The plate was painted Minuteman blue, with its sigil proudly on the chest in black. On each shoulder pauldron was a single star, and on his left eye was a sloppy black gash, covering even that side of the visor since it was useless to him anyway. Over his eye was a small symbol those huddle masses yearning for freedom would clock it instantly, and find an ally in the man bearing it.
Jon simply gave a whistle, and Dogmeat barked up a storm. There would be no tiptoeing around the Boston Commons today. Swan ripped up from his slumber, angry at being disturbed. He was over 20 foot foot tall, and had a boat stropped to his arm no doubt as both shield and weapon. It screamed at the trespasser to his domain, and presented the perfect target for Jon.
Piper was wearing his aviators more and more now, which meant he was using VATS less and less. It required some kind of targeting set up to connect to so it could actually target. His power armor certainly had one, and its optic was down over his good eye. It was to ensure his kills with no margin of error, and that meant firing a crit straight into Swan’s head as he roared.
The ordinance began to whistle has the pneumatic system pushed it from its breech. As soon as passed the edge of the weapon, it became a streak as it flung towards its intended target to achieve division. Not only was he Q’s proxy, but Atom’s as well. He wondered if they were the same. A chirp and a thumbs down on his HUD told him what he needed to know.
The mini-nuke slapped Swan in the face and promptly detonated. The white flash overtook his head and shoulders, and a small mushroom cloud formed from the ashes of his head. There was a charred semi-spherical burn wound where his neck should have been. As most did when they lost their head, he dropped like a stone into the water, causing a splash nearly as tall as he was.
Some raiders ran out on the other side of the block to see what the hell was happening, and soon regretted it as for as long as they lived. They were tightly clustered, and Jon was fast on the reload, having another round slotted in almost as soon as Swan in the deck. He targeted the middle raider with a cit, and the two others around him turned to giblets where he simply vanished in nuclear fire. Pier was standing casually beside him the whole time, and gave a small clap at the show.
Jon smirk as he marched forward. Now Dogmeat stayed beside Piper. He was just happy to finally be out an about again with his real companion. He had no qualms doing what was asked, but it was still nice to be out. Well some qualms. This was too fun.
Jon rounded the corner, and it was obvious any raiders had retreated to their hole. He saw some signs pointing out the Combat Zone, a raider bar he found out, and no raiders would have a bar next to his bunker and neighborhood. With the death of Swan, the Commons was now claimed for the SCPG, and he could move an army and civilian support staff needed to support them in here.
He kicked the door in and took a couple steps inside. He could smell the fear in the place even though his suit filters. Their guard no doubt just told them three of theirs just got rocked by a mini nuke, and now a man in blue power armor with a fat man in his hands just busted their door. The lights that were on the cage arena were turned by an on the ball tech and lit him, Piper, and Dogmeat up. Then people saw the sigil of the Minutemen and knew they were screwed.
Some chose to die fighting, and just before they could pull a loud voice cut though the brewing chaos, “OY! Now that be sumone I wanna fookin fight! Get em in da cage!”
The tension was sill brewing, but it kept at a simmer for a little longer. Jon took a quick glance to Piper, and she shrugged. Another voice cut in, the ghoul proprietor, “Heh, heh, and if you all remember Tommy’s number one rule, no, fighting, out-side, the cage. A challenge has been made, but has a challenge been accepted?”
Heads all up and down the theater, and in the shack built upper boxes turned again back to Jon. The lights did was well. He gently set his launcher down and hit the internal release. The armor pushed itself open, and he took a step out. He was in his fatigues, with most of his kit on Pipers back in his ruck. He took off his eye patch and handed it to Piper who responded with a peck on his cheek.
The raider’s hands never left their guns, and the lights followed him as we walked down the main isle. The proprietor said, “Then let’s get ready to ruuuummmbbblllleee!”
The room was still dead silent as the man pulled at his neck collar and coughed a couple times away from the mic. Jon never broke his Augment stare with his good eye at the challenger. She never flinched, and her evil smile got wider and wider as he approached. She was nearly rail thin, had messy red hair, hard green eyes, and was a pale as moonlight. He could see the heavy chem use in her every feature, but above all he saw a fighter and survivor.
He casually climbed up the stage and walked over to the outside entrance to the cage. The General did not go around anywhere, least of which a dusty raider bar. The proprietor knew the score. He knew the look. He knew what was about to happen to his little bird.
As he slowly opened the gate he whispered, “Please. Please don’t kill her.”
Jon looked to the side as he stepped in, “Wasn't planning on it.”
He called her opening move from a mile away. He would detract himself, and she would charge immediately. People like her needed points made to. Someone is always a bigger dog, and she just ran into her’s face first. She expected her initial bow to knock him down and out, probably even kill him, allowing her to follow though and bleed momentum by charging forward though dead weight. Just as he turned his head back, expression flat, her swatter beat against the side of his head. It was a far cry in getting shot in the face, and he didn’t have that much feeling on that side of his head anyway.
The bat splintered, and she bounced off and back a couple steps. Jon stood like a mountain, and never moved though the assault, not even his head. It did take some effort on his part to remain like that, to her credit, but it was not insurmountable strain. The silence lasted only a moment more, before the crowd of raiders cheered and filled the hall with sounds of celebration.
The weren’t celebrating Jon, but Cait’s death. No one that just took her shot like that loses the rest of the match. Long had she taken and mangled their boys and girls, and now payback was at hand from the oddest of sources. None noticed Piper slyly using the distraction to slip into something more comfortable for the occasion. Her blue keeping his set basically meant her own personal suit, and she had practiced much, and even took it to the Bugle with Nick. She knew her blue wouldn't mind, in fact even encourage it he would.
Cait looked out to the crowd for a moment, and her eye twitch once, twice. She looked back and steeled herself for what was to come. She would die fighting, Jon saw.
“Fuck ye bastards!” She cried as she charged.
She kept the broken handle of her bat and stabbed it at Jon’s throat. He breathed deep and took the blow again. The bat splinters punched though his jugular and collapsed his trachea. A minor wound all things considered for him. Piper wouldn't approve, but points must be made, and he caught her positioning. The raiders wanted blood, and they would have it. It would take them one glance to call the score and turn everything into a cluster fuck.
His eye shot into her’s though the entire ordeal, she was at first relieved, then shocked, then in denial that her opponent would just take another even worse blow intentionally.
Jon drove her towards acceptance of her ordeal. Before her hand could rip the bat from him, he grabbed her arm and crushed her wrist as fast as lighting. She screamed and took a step back while grabbing her hanging hand. The crowed rose again and cheered harder. Maybe they wouldn't kill the Minuteman, his dog, and rape his bitch when he was done here. After all, he seemed to be gunning for Cait specifically, and that made him good in their books.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Jon was on her in a flash, never braking his eye. His hand wrapped around her throat and cut off the beginning of another yelp. His off hand fist slammed into her gut, on a specific vector and with a specific application of force. She immediately choked up blood, as Jon’s grip wasn't that tight. He spun for some momentum and flung her back into the cage. She didn’t have to see what was about to happen.
Jon took a step to the side back to the gate. While most of his kit wouldn't fit in his armor, a holster on a belt did, along with plenty of single stack magazines. He drew and held it causally for a moment. The raiders rose more. This guy was definitely alright. He even put on a show.
The proprietor had a somber look. The guy said he wasn't planning on it, but with that bat still in his neck, there was only one way it was going after two kill shot attempts. The fight would finish in the third round. He caught Jon’s eye and saw the man smiling wickedly. He wondered if he even told the truth.
“Jus doit ye bastard!” She coughed again.
Jon had other business to attend to as the crowd chanted, “DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT.”
The show wasn't stopping. He grabbed the bat, lifted his head up, worked it around a moment to ensure things would go back in place, and gently pulled it out. That was not the show. The show was him quickly leaning forward and spilling a good amount of blood while his jugular sealed, so it didn’t flood his lungs. He pulled a stim pack from his pocket and jammed it though the other side of his throat and directly into the wound. Every little bit helped when bleeding out.
The crowd lost their chant, but still chanted and cried all the same. Cait cried, “DO IT! COMONE YE BASTARD FUKIN DO IT!”
Jon pulled a second stim and tossed next to her, and he turned and kick the gate though as he started to breath again. The intercom was hijacked, probably by Q, and he was given another taste to sooth the homesickness he had for his music.
Some high notes trilled and slowed a couple times as the shooting began. This score did have its proper backup to follow its leads. It entered as soon as the first died. Piper fired the first mini-nuke.
“I see a red door and I want to paint it black.”
Jon squeezed off three more shots at the disoriented raiders and quickly reloaded.
“No colors anymore I want them to turn black.”
Jon turned his aim to the raiders up in the shack box seats just about to return fire.
“I see the girls walk by dressed in their summer clothes.”
Three more shots, three more dead raiders, another mini-nuke in the seats.
“I have to turn my head until my darkness goes.”
Five more shots, five more dead, another reload.
“I see a line of cars and they’re all painted black.”
A third Mini-nuke.
“Both flowers and my love both never to come back.”
One return shot made it though to Jon, in a nowhere near critical place, and the bartender that took cover first took eight to his head in return. The room was dead silent again, the usual aftermath of combat. The music had cut and no one said a word as Jon surveyed the room and found no more survivors.
Piper spoke first, “So blue! This what it feels like to be you!?”
Jon chucked, “Not far off my love!”
Piper giggled though the modulation of the armor. The proprietor huffed, then scoffed, then chuckled and finally laughed. He said, “Wh-what the fuck was that? That music? That some how, is more goddamn insane than you blasting off fucking mini nukes in my establishment!”
Jon shot him his eye, “I’m sorry, I was under the impression you were just trying to survive in a bad situation. Bread and games is a classic way to distract the peasants from trying to kill you. Is that a wrong assumption, Mr?”
He took a couple deep breaths and calmed down, “Lonegan. Just call me Tommy. Sorry pal, just, what the fuck?”
Jon giggled and snicked, and Tommy shook his head. He said, “Well, thanks I guess. You’re right. A boss came by a couple years ago and took the place over. I convinced him he could keep the fights going and make a lot of caps. He just wanted it as a getaway not to many people would get near. I tried to start this place up for legit boxing, and was already starting to make the caps. I was a promoter before the war, so it wasn't a hard sell with a gun to my head. Not even the first time.”
Jon said, “Spared your life.”
He nodded, “Yeah. The boss came and went, so the place was mine again, but who's gonna tell that many raiders they can’t come back to their favorite bar and blood sport. I tried to make it legit as possible. You saw the rules on the way in, this was neutral turf, scores have even been settled here.”
Jon shrugged, “The SCPG and Minutemen will be moving in the neighborhood. We aren't going to impede legitimate businesses, in fact just the opposite. You may have to deal with some regulation once things become more formal.”
Tommy scoffed, “Sure as fuck beats raider rule. So I take you brought that fat man for Swan. I thought they were on some fucking chems when they said some boys got blasted. You also the on that took out Malone and his crew?”
Jon eagerly nodded, “Yup.”
Tommy shook his head, “There were words about you. The General. Even before you got on the radio. Thank the Brotherhood I guess for taking out Wire. He was starting to make moves.”
Jon nodded, “I figured he would be the one, being former Minuteman. I wanted to get him, but dead is dead. Anyone else going to make moves?”
Tommy shook his head, “Not that I heard, and I don’t think no one else can pull something like it off. Wire didn’t have the scores others had, settled or otherwise. Everyone respected him, and he didn’t cause problems as long as you stayed out of his turf.”
Jon shrugged, “Raider is raider. Well, we’ll get out of your hair. Sorry about the mess.”
Tommy said, “Honesty, the only way to get a tick is to dig. I can get It fixed up like I did the first time. Thanks to getting them off my back. Minutemen are always welcome at Tommy’s, and you drink for free. Just give me a second before you leave though, maybe wait by the door.”
Jon said, “Sure, thanks Tommy.”
Jon hopped off the steps and waded though the corpses left in his and Piper’s wake. He loved that woman with furious passion at this point. He took her in for a long kiss and motioned for her to stay quiet for him to listen in on the conversation near the door.
Tommy said, “Little bird, what are we gonna do with you. Look at the mess you’re in.”
Cait said, “Ah, fuck ye Tommy. Neva saya tha when I be winnin yah all thos caps.”
Tommy sighed, “I have said it. You’re either strung out, or get strung out immediately after so you never remember. I mean come on, you have an actually death wish. You were begging for it.”
Cait said, “Yah? Well youa be me an run inta tha one man that can kill ye. Ye want it ta.”
Tommy shook his head, “Look, Cait. You gotta get cleaned up. I can’t help you. He can. You got to go with him.”
Cait, “Ah fuck ye sidewas with a brahmin cock. Whata makes yah think he even wans sum washedup junkie. Ima your best fighta anyway.”
Tommy huffed, “You’re the only one that's survived, Cait. That doesn’t make someone the best fighter. It just makes them a survivor.”
Cait huffed as well, “Donna see yah compainin bout ta caps I get ye yet.”
Tommy said, “I don’t give shit about the caps, little bird. I give a shit about you. It was always survival for me, just like you Cait. The caps were meaningless without that. I’ll make it easy on you. You ain't welcome at Tommy’s anymore.”
“Wh-wha?”
Tommy said, “I’m going legit again Cait. You ain't a legit fighter. You're a killer and a survivor. You got to get our there and spread your wings little bird, and that means I got to get you out of here. So please, go, one way or the other.”
Jon added his input, “Get your ass out here! You’re coming with us!”
She got up as much as she could, still struggling some, “OH FUK YE BOTH. WHY HUH?”
Jon gave her his eye from across the room, “Because you’re life was mine to take, and I spared it! Even you can understand that!”
Tommy stood, “He’s got your contract Little Bird. Go. Maybe come back when you’re on your feet for a visit. But you’re not my fighter anymore, and I wish you never were. Come back when you understand that.”
She slowly got up, “Dam ye, Tommy. Dam ye. Lemme get mah shite at least. Cannea forget tha tings yah gave yah little burd. Tha only tings she eva had.”
Tommy lowered his head and smiled softly as she limped away. Piper said, “Blue, you always come back to me covered in blood.”
Jon said, “Sorry, point needed made. The work with the fat man? I aroused right now piper. You can feel it.”
She confirmed with a sultry look, and said, “Too bad we’re on the road blue. And we have company. That's why I love you. Always taking in strays from the cold.”
Cait finally came out after only a couple minutes with a brace on her wrists. Sim packs could do a lot, expecially on direct application, but not everything, and this was old hat to her. She had obviously taken chems as well, but somehow looked better than she did, even without cleaning the blood from her face or anywhere. Jon couldn’t say anything about that, because his blood ran free all over him and high functioning addicts are out there. In fairness to Cait, Jon was a junkie himself by Augment standards. Many didn’t even eat sugar, let alone drink coffee, soda, or smoke.
Offered a smoke to Piper and Cait. They both took one and Cait said after she lit, “Aye, so at leass ye not a total braggard. Wha the fuck ye be?”
Jon said, “Superior.”
She scoffed, “An why ye doin tis?”
Jon said, “Because you didn’t fit in.”
She angerly threw her smoke and thought about restarting the fight before stopping her self with an angry expression, “Tee fuk yah mean me dunt fit in ye bastard. I been killin tees fukers fo ages.”
Jon said, “Killing. Surviving. That’s all you been doing. All I’ve been doing since I was 16. That’s why I’m doing it. You come with us, and maybe you do more.”
She scoffed, “Fuk me, yah wanna me to be one o yah lil blue doogooders.”
Jon scoffed, “No. You would get yourself and your entire unit killed.”
She spit, “Oh fuk ye, bastard. Juss gonna insult meh all da huh? Mebbe we should juss leave, huh? Like ol’Tommy wans.”
Jon smiled, “Maybe, you can find something to do for yourself. There are chances out there. Just take one that's not killing or thieving to get by. All you have to do. Let’s go. We’re going to the Castle. You stay with Piper behind me and the fuck out of my way until we get you somewhere.”
“Aye, fuking cocksucker.”
Jon hopped into his plate, and savored Pipers smell in it. He lead the crew back out into the wastes. Tommy had one final whisper, “Fly away little bird. Good luck.”