Chapter 34: Of The End
“Hey you, you’re finally awake.”
Jon wasn't awake, but he was now. The voice was at least soft, a near whisper. He opened his eye and shot it to the intruder in his room. It was a roughly smiling Decon in Minutemen uniform.
Deacon cleared his throat mockingly, and it nearly made Jon angry, but he didn’t hold the man’s personality against him. Deacon said with a louder tone, “General, sir. We were sent by Colonel Garvey to pick you up. The bird is on the roof. Barr and Joker are there.”
Jon took a deep breath in and said, “Thank you, Private. I’ll be out in a moment.”
Deacon snapped to perfect attention, “Sir.” And then whispered, “Danse is a synth. Even our firends didn’t know. We have to pull him out of the hole he’s in before something stupid happens. Hurry up.”
Jon nodded, and more quickly got it together. His tops at least were cleaned up, and he got them back on in a clip, then the rest of his kit. He more casually walked out of the room, however. He didn’t want to seem to be in a rush. He followed his Private out while thanking any Brotherhood personnel he passed. From the general atmosphere they knew what had happened, but also wanted to betray it not. Social brinkmanship between the Brotherhood and Minutemen was happening again, and Jon didn’t like it.
He was up and out, and then sitting in the personnel bay of the bird. He connected his pip-boy and helmet comms system to the local channel. He said, “Joker, take us out easy. Barr.”
“Sir. Our target is Listening Post Bravo. Near,”
“Fuck, I know where. Right on the border, a gray zone. Joker Punch it when we’re away and come from the North.”
“Aye sir.”
Jon thought fast as the bird picked up speed. Right at the end that came out. Of course it did, and he was injured and didn’t even think about it. His previous injury wasn’t helping things at all. Everything he had down so far could come crashing down, but the war was much more in the Minutemen’s favor than it was previously. Right under Maxson’s nose, with his help basically, he had gotten his guns set up at the Castle. That was another thing he had to explain in the camp, that they were bombing mercenaries that had slaughtered the town they occupied. Everyone accepted that explanation, and some of the younger ones asked if they could see the guns up close.
Well some of those guns were no doubt pointed in a direction not far off from the airport. It was a war Jon could work with now. One he could win. Jon just hopped it didn’t come to that. He would not let Maxson take Danse. Every bit of social engineering could be unraveling as he thought. Oh, synths really are the enemy, the mutant is just and only that. Ghouls should be killed as well just because. Maxson was reasonable, and it was the only thing Jon could count on.
The ride was quiet as the bird went North, straight east, then back South towards the bunker. Jon keyed in, “Joker, drop us back some.”
“Already on it boss, touch down coming up. Good luck.”
The Bird came down, and Barr, Deacon, and Jon were quick to hop off. Barr whispered when the bird was enough distance away, “Reese and Haylen came to us. Already got some guys and gals in place.”
“For Danse?” Jon asked.
“For the Brotherhood, obviously General.”
Jon nodded, “Just checking.”
Deacon added, “Not for nothing, we got a couple partygoers as well.”
The three moved though the area to the target. It was expert and professional. They did not simply walk their way to it, but one moved up, another followed behind, and third pushed forward even more. They checked their angles though the treeline, and refused to simply assume this neck of the woods was safe.
It was indeed mostly safe however. Jon identified a couple of his Minutemen’s well hidden positions as they got closer. He didn’t identify one railroad position, further proving their competence. When they got to the front of the bunker Haylen and Reese were there standing guard.
Reese said, “General.”
Haylen said, “Thank Atom you got here. Danse is a synth. It came out with the holotape you brought back. He panicked and ran. This is where we said we would regroup if the worst happened. Our last stand. Well here it is I guess.”
Reese shook his head, “They wont take him. Not while we’re still alive.”
Jon breathed deep, not feeling his lung injury as much, “No. Stay here.”
They both nodded and Deacon and Barr took their own concealed positions. Jon opened the door and stepped into the half ruined bunker. There was a mine, a turret, but nothing he was not a match for. It was a short distance, the bunker not very large, and he found Danse sitting on a dirty bed. His arms were hanging off his knees and his head was held low. He was in his jumpsuit for power armor, cap still on his head.
He glanced up with red and raw eyes, “So, the General in not so shiny armor. Come to save me? The Synth.” He ended with a spit.
Jon conceded the point, “Yeah. Bout the right of it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and lets go before they get here.”
“You aren't my commanding officer.”
Jon said, “No one is apparently. Does that matter? You’re a synth. Who give a fuck?”
Danse grimaced, “The Brotherhood does. I do. All my life I’ve been a traitor. My memories, nothing about me is even real. They put it all in my head.”
Jon said, “Again, who gives a fuck. You’re Paladin Danse, a loyal soldier of the Brotherhood. That’s all you’ve been.”
“Because they put me there!”
“Who! Gives! A! Fuck! You’re a traitor, so am I! The only fucking difference is you weren’t forced to kill your own goddamned kin!”
Danse winced. Yet, he thought. But he knew in his heart, his Brotherhood blood that they only could have and would have gotten him with a recall code. Even then he would have fought it any way he could. But a moment they didn’t have their eyes on him, that they thought he was cowed, he would have burned their world to the irradiated ground.
Jon said, “Now get up and let’s go. Haylen and Reese are waiting for you. You’re all coming back to the SCPG. We need people like you, and the Institute still needs their asses kicked.”
He looked up again, “And if that means fighting the Brotherhood? Maxson?”
Jon didn’t hesitate, “Yes. Synths are my people. The closest thing to people I have. I wont abandoned any who can be helped.”
“I won-”
“I won’t ask you too. Now let’s fucking go Lieutenant Danse.”
He slowly stood, and then went into attention, “Thank you, sir.”
Jon turned and marched out of the listening post, and Danse followed right behind. Coming out of the entrance, he had immediate problems. Brotherhood birds were on the way, still a distance, but coming in fast enough they had no time to disperse and make a clean brake.
Jon huffed, “Lieutenant. Next time follow orders with some punctuality.”
“Yes sir.”
“Sergeant, Warrant officer, ensure that he does. Junior officers typically need some guidance from those below them in rank.”
The both tried to stop from laughing, and said, “Yes sir.” At about the same time.
Jon took a few more steps forward and gave a hand signs to stay down and ready to any who would see. The forest ended just past the bunker, giving way to the plains the national guard base sat on. The birds came over top, and power armor began dropping down, three squads worth. Maxson was in the lead bird and dropped first. Riptide followed closely behind.
The marched up and there was 20 feet between Maxson and Jon. Jon said, “So, I take it our relations will be strained.”
“Yes.”
Jon jerked his and pantomimed a snap. He said, “Just as things were going so well. I wont let you take them.”
Maxson said, “I’m only after one. The other two will be given the chance to return to the fold.”
Jon said, “No deal.”
“Then we’re at an impasse.”
“More like en passant.”
The contingent of blue took that as their signal. It was ridiculous, out of place, and no one knew what it meant. With the context of the conversation, the General’s intent was clear. There was no real impasse here. They poked their show stoppers out, and the brown had more blue in it than just a moment ago. The Brotherhood responded coolly, but they were outnumbered and surrounded.
Maxson took a slow look around, “Do you really want to do this for one synth?”
Jon replied, “Someone will.”
Maxson said, “You must unders-”
“I perfectly understand. He was two steps away from being your second in command, probably after leading the assault against the institute. He’s also a synth and has been the entire time. In your position I might do the same, but I would never be in your position. I am not in your position, so I will not let you have him.”
“Did you know?”
“Yes. I could smell it.”
“And you didn’t tell me!”
“How would you react? Something like this. I will not let you kill the synths. Nearly every word I have said to you has been towards that end, Maxson. So I could resolve that problem peacefully, and not have to fucking kill you for the crimes of genocide.”
“Nearly?”
“I think you're a decent guy just trying to do the best with a legacy you didn’t want. I’ve called you my friend, and I mean that. That's the honest truth.”
“But you’ve been manipulating me the entire time. To indoctrinate me with your ideology. By your own admission.”
“Indoctrinate you with what ideology? Killing a slave race is wrong? Be nicer to people? Is that really indoctrination, or elementary education lacking in the Brotherhood curriculum.”
Maxson thought of his next words for a longer moment. The mutant again had a point. Danse being what he was didn’t simply invalidate other things he had seen and heard so far. Danse being a traitor didn’t invalidate the scars of Glory. She didn’t hide what she was, been so close for so long. Damnit, Danse probably didn’t even know.
His rash need to act on the situation now had backed him and his people into a corner covered in guns. He saw the determination in Jon’s eye. They would not come for one single synth under his watch, and on a certain level Maxson still respected that. But he’d been manipulated as apart of an effort, a conscious plot. He couldn't stand for that.
He turned his helmet, “As far as the Brotherhood is concerned, Paladin Danse is dead.”
“Yes sir” rang though the formation.
He turned back, “Our personal relationship is over. But I will not ask our people to suffer for it. What we are building will not die here.”
“Thank you, my friend.”
“We’re nearly ready for an assault against the institute. We will have to meet again at least once more. Don’t show your face, synth. Knight, Scribe, It’s only because of you’re exemplary service and dedication to your unit, if not the Brotherhood, that you’ll get a pass for going AWOL. I recommend you stay away as well.”
“Sir.” They both said.
Maxson brooked no more delay, and turned way with his contingent. Jon watched him get from the woods, and swirled his arm to round up his people. He turned, “Gladius, It’s time Fort Hagan got spun back up.”
“Yes sir. Plenty out of the way, and not just some dead end task.” Haylen said.
Jon nodded, “Focus on the supporting town first. Need somewhere to house the help anyway. There's a shop in the red rocket. Danse, do a good job and you’ll be a Colonel in command of that base in no time.”
“Yes sir.”
“Dismissed!”
The assembled force began dispersing, Gladius included. One did the opposite however. Deacon said, “You really are a force man.”
“Yeah. Manipulation, threats of violence. All my kind is good for. Only way we ever did anything.”
Deacon shrugged, “Is anyone really any different? All I’ve ever seen from you is someone willing to sacrifice to do the right thing man. Give yourself some credit. We all got demons in us. Believe me I know.”
“Who are you really, Deacon?”
“The Lone Wanderer. The guy that did little else but kill to find his father, and get called a hero for it.”
“If that’s a lie, you deserve to have it.”
“Guys and gals like us? No one will understand but those dirty few. 101 knew the score. Saw me for what I really was. Couldn’t let me back because of it, even though they still wanted my help. I helped, the vault was my home how couldn’t I? She told me I couldn’t stay, couldn’t come back, said she would miss me, but I would always be the killer of her father. It cut me deep, but I was glad someone else got it. Happy even. They didn’t call me a hero. They didn’t pretend I was anything but what I was.”
“Killer that just happened to have a conscious.”
“Sounds like something Valentine would throw down.”
“Good call. Got anything else?”
Deacon smirked, “Yeah actually. Shit is about to go down in DC. You really should make an appearance.”
Jon started walking to the edge of the forest himself so he could call in the bird. He said, “Do tell.”
“Well lets just say the Mayor has had to field some tough questions recently. Why aren’t we apart of the SCPG. Wheres our jamming solution. By the way, wheres Nick, what happened to our newspaper, and why hasn't the General been back to the largest settlement in the Commonwealth. Things like that.”
“Is the Mayor really a synth?”
“You know it. That’s why you’re the General, my man. Cuz I didn’t want to be bothered again.”
Jon smiled and huffed as he pinged the bird frequency to notify joker, “Yeah and some other sorry asshole can have the next time. I’ll pick back up later. Tell our mutual friends they’ll be needed in the very long term.”
“Yeah, your angles boss. They had that talk. You ever lean about old Washington? You must have.”
“Spymaster.” Was all Jon said as the bird came in and overpowered their mostly quiet conversation.
They hopped in, and it shot off again on a direct path towards DC. It seemed to Jon that Deacon had planed out an itinerary. Jon couldn’t say anything against it, because Generals typically did have such things, and get ferried around to them by aids. They wouldn't be able to do their jobs otherwise. Daley was Preston’s and Deacon had made himself the General’s for the moment.
It wasn't long for the bird to hover over the main entrance square for the old baseball stadium, with the statue of Babe Ruth, a Red Sox in this time and place, still standing tall and proud. The Guards outside were doing their best to wave the Minuteman bird down, to land and help. The bird touched down for the smallest moment to let the passengers off, before Joker shot back up again, and away to Minutemen lines.
They cheered as the General Jogged forward. The lead guard waved him forward more, and started a jog beside him, “General. Shits going down with the Mayor. He’s a synth. Danny’s shot, Geneva taken as a hostage in the office.”
Jon said, “Is he stable?”
“Yeah, Doc Sun has him.”
“Good, I’ll get Geneva back.”
He ran forward a little faster up the stairs and into the stands. The city was before him, and so was a large crowd just before the catwalk up to the lift. The guards kept it blocked off, and to the crowd’s credit, they respected the boundary. They were crying death, but would let the guard, and now the General handle it. They would not like what Jon would say to them when he was done with his task.
The crowd parted as they cheered the General on, now certain of the outcome. The guards moved, and Deacon was following in right behind him. They stopped on the lift, and Jon thumbed the button. On the way up he could already hear Piper banging on the door. It seemed she had decided a visit was in order as well. Jon smirked as the lift stopped.
“You wont get though that, you slanderer!”
“It’s not slander if it’s true you Institute prick!”
She drove her foot into the door futilely once more before turning around. Her eyes lit up instantly, and she had the same sloppy grin on her face as when they first met. Jon met it. She exclaimed. “Ohhhhoh. You’re screwed now, Mr. Mayor!”
Jon politely motioned for her to move, and she jumped as she realized she was still in the way. Her grin was evil as she took a spot beside Deacon. Jon drove his heel into the door, and busted though the file cabinets barricading it. They were slid out and over, and the door broke from it’s hinges. Jon had his rifle up in a snap as he took a step in.
She jammed his pipe banger into the side of Geneva’s head. She was handling it well, all things considered. He said, “Not one more step, Mr. Singh! I’ll do it!”
Jon coolly replied, “And you’ll die a second later. Put the gun down, and I promise you a fair trial.”
“Ha! Fair!? Trial!? Even if, the end result is the same! Me swinging from the stands! No I say! I’m the Mayor goddammit!”
He made the mistake of moving the gun away of Geneva and towards Jon. Jon took the shot as soon as the arc was fully away, and put a round into the exposed part of the Mayors head. He snapped back from the force, and fell over in the same motion. Geneva yelped, but only once as she quickly moved away from the body. Jon took purposeful steps forward, and as soon as he had and angle he put one more round in the Mayor’s head, double tapping and confirming the kill. He heard the guards behind him, Piper even, and the crowd below cheer at the sound of the shots.
Jon carried his rifle in his off hand as he walked up further, and grabbed the corpse of the Mayor by the collar. He spun once to build momentum, then a second time to cement it and get the body truly airborne. He released his grip and tossed it out from the announcers box, and all the way to the city center below. The limp body crashed into the seat at power noodles, unknown to Jon, that the Broken Mask incident started. Then it was a different eatery, but the stall itself never changed.
Jon pick up the intercom mic, and keyed it. The cheering city quieted down to listen to the General speak. He said, “People of Diamond City. No more. No more will you be trusted to manage your own affairs. Your Mayor was a synth. That in an of itself is not a problem. The problem is that your Mayor was a synth infiltrator, and always had been, reporting to the Institute as recently as this morning by the terminal entries I’m thumbing though. How did this infiltrator become your Mayor? You elected him by a fair vote. Why did you elect him? From my understanding of history, because he promised to expel ghouls, feeding on your hate, your bigotry, your sniveling fear and paranoia to win your support. You murdered those people when you pushed them out and into the cold and uncaring arms of the wasteland. No more will you be trusted to keep yourselves in the civilized society being built outside your walls. Your streets will be occupied by Minutemen forces. Your taxes not needed to maintain critical city functions will be directed to the SCPG coffers for infrastructure projects outside. As penance for the crimes you have collectively committed, you will never again receive political representation as long as you reside behind these walls. If you wish to participate in the new society of the Commonwealth, you will join it as those ghouls had to join the wasteland. By being forced to leave your home. Fenway Park is now a federally occupied territory. Any who wish to resist the new order, can bring their argument to the man that just threw the corpse of your infiltrator Mayor all the way to the pitcher’s mound.”
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He slammed the mic down, breaking it, and the city remained in dead silence. The guards let it carry for a moment more, before they dejectedly started making the calls, “Shows over!”
“Go back to your business!”
Geneva was the only one seemingly unbothered by it all. She walked back up and said, “Over all, I don’t think they’ll mind it. They won’t trust elections for a good long while, and you just gave them a safe haven from them.”
Jon scoffed, “Either that, or they disperse, either way I’ve broken them as a voting block before they even became one. Some people cant be trusted with a vote, simple fact.”
She coolly said, “Because they elect infiltrators as Mayors. You’ve laid out a long term vision, but what’s the plan for the immediate term?”
Jon smirked, “You are now the civilian administrator of this territory. Until the government gets set up formally, you report to the military. After that, the civilian government.”
She nodded, “Of course General. I’ll begin putting out the fires from this. Thanks for cleaning the place up at least.”
Jon turned and walked out, and Piper and Deacon followed him back to the lift. They rode down and walked out of the city, no one daring to meet their eye. It was not how they expected the General arriving to go, but none took action against him, or even voiced their decent. They got out to the square, and Jon called the bird back.
Deacon spoke first, “Ice fucking cold man. I dig it.”
Piper chuckled a couple times while threading her arm though Jon’s, “Honestly don’t know how I feel about it, but at least that bastard is dead. Good job blue.”
Jon looked to her as he smiled and the bird came in. He said, “Deacon, anything else on the schedule?”
He chuckled, “Nah boss. Thanks for the help.”
He nodded. Piper said, “Think I’m gonna stay here for a little longer. Got to get interviews for the story this is going to turn into.”
Jon realized he never actually read one of her articles. What if she was really a bad, sensationalist, yellow-dog hack? With bad prose to boot? So he simply wouldn’t read them. She never asked, and he didn’t want to ruin the mystic of his bombshell journalist girlfriend. Should he ask her to marry him?
“Lost in thought, blue?”
He snapped a bit, then smiled, “Yeah. You going to be good? Might be a little hot.”
She poked him, “You’re hot, blue, and yeah. I wasn't the one berating them after all.”
“And you were right, after all.” He said as the bird was ever closer.
She met the spark in his eye, like the first time all over again, “Yup. I might even be able to get a party going. You know, to lighten the mood.”
Jon leaned in and gave her a kiss before boarding the bird. He yelled, “Private, escort the VIP, and make the Minutemen presence in Fenway Park known!”
He sarcastically snapped to attention, “Sir yes sir!”
Jon got back on the bird and it flew away at Joker’s signature hard charge. Jon keyed the internal comms, “Do you happen to have a mission for me, Joker?”
“Ha! No sir, useless you wanna suck me off or something. It’s a matter of national security, I promise.”
Jon laughed out for a moment before his pip-boy pinged on a Brotherhood frequency. He collected himself and keyed in, “Overlord to boss.”
“Boss here.”
“Pinging a location. Overlord out.”
Hey keyed back to the bird after looking at his map, “Mass Fusion, punch it Joker.”
“You ever see me do anything else boss?”
They bird was already punching it, so a simply course correction was all that was required. It was a short while before Joker clocked it, and Jon moved up to see, “Holy shit, a whole fucking war going on there.”
Jon agreed. Most of the Brotherhoods vertibird force was in the air and firing away. Several squads were manning the roof while the birds raked the sides of the sky scraper against any hostiles poking though the windows of the place. More were certainly inside, and on the ground.
Jon keyed the Minutemen frequency, “Get someone to Mass Fusion, boss out.”
He keyed the bird, “Joker, wait for a hole. Not much we can do here, this is a Brotherhood op. They'll let us in when they’re ready.”
“Aye, sir.”
They only had to wait a minute or two for that to happen. Joker brought it in nice and easy. Jon had an idea. Just by asking, Deacon basically spilled his darkest secrets. What was Joker hiding? No wasteland pilot was as good as him.
“Joker, who are you, really?”
He didn’t hesitate as he positioned for a drop, “Enclave mechanic, junior grade, and I mean junior. And a refugee I guess. Raven rock blew, and little bitty me knew we were cooked. I stole a bird and got the hell out as we were getting our asses handed to us by Liberty Prime.”
Jon got up to hop down, “Thanks for sharing.”
“Hey boss, what we’re doing? Really reminds me of all that rebuild America shit, but like for real and not just shit.”
“Maybe.” Jon said as he hopped down and Joker dusted away from the building.
He walked up to his target, the Elder in full plate. He said, “Elder.”
“General. We were too late. The Institute completed their objective.”
Jon rose his eyebrow, “Sounds like the fight is still going.”
Maxson nodded, “It is, for posterity sake. But when every synth in the building says ‘primary objective complete, secondary objective kill remaining enemy forces.’ it’s pretty clear. They were after a beryllium agitator.”
Jon asked, “What for.”
Maxson said, “According to intelligence, for their reactor. With it, they’re completely self sufficient.”
Jon huffed, Maxson handler was obviously better than his. He said, “And they’ll flood us with synths.”
“Exactly. Not all is lost however. We needed it for Liberty Prime, at first. The Ron got us the info we asked for originally, but just minutes too slow. I was just reading the report when we detected the transport signals. Gap in the net. With ASAM technology however, and combined with our preexisting knowledge, the industrial press, we could reproduce the original reactor. Which we have. Our objective then was to deny it to them. Which we failed.” Maxson said.
Jon nodded and thought, “Okay, since we’re here whats the plan of attack, because it has to be real soon now.”
Maxson said, “We’ll go by land with Prime to the campus. His laser will bore straight though to their bunker. On the tape we found an old cooling outlet in the river, from when the reactor was originally built before the war. I recommend you lead a team there. I’ll mark the location on your map, and give you the codes you need. The Minutemen can of course join the overland assault as well.”
Jon said, “Of course. And what happens when we win?”
Maxson grimaced under his helmet, but Jon didn’t see or know. He said, “We’ll preserve it as much as possible. From the tape, there’s to much down there to simply blow up, and from intel the explosion of that reactor would level what’s left of Cambridge.”
“And the synth facilities?”
“What do you intend?”
“There are bots that deserve a chance to evolve. Like it or not humanity has created synthetic lifeforms. Digital and biological. We need the bots, but we shouldn’t rob them of the opportunity to become more. I already carried out one genocide. I don’t want to do it again, and destroying those facilities would be the same thing in my eye. Fear and paranoia of the different is what got us here. We need to put it away.”
“There will be a permanent Brotherhood presence in the Institute facilities.”
Jon nodded, “Fair. That's three bases. We get a naval base in the Capital, and an embassy in the Library of Congress.”
Maxson said, “Fair. And a good pick for the Embassy. We don’t keep anything classified in there anyway.”
Jon smirked as his Minutemen frequency clicked. He tuned and head his second, “We’re here boss. Not much to do but help keep the perimeter.”
Jon said, “Mr. not talking to the field like I used to.”
“Heh, never let em know the next move. I’m all weak and helpless now.”
“Art of war shit right there pal. Soldier to the bone, you are. Lead the overland contingent. Someone will brief you on it.”
“Yes sir.”
Jon looked to the Elder, who nodded his approval. He said, “You’ll know the signal.”
Jon nodded, “I’ll probably wait just a few, give you a head start. Elder.”
“General.”
He keyed and pinged his bird, and a couple minutes later it was touching down for his pickup. He got up to the co-pilots seat and said, “Here.”
A quick glance at the pip-boy told Joker what he needed to know, “On it boss.”
Jon braced himself as Joker got clear from the airborne scrum, and punched it a moment later. A moment more and he was at the destination, near the wreck of the USS Ticonderoga. Joker touched down and let Jon disembark.
He said over the comms, “Find me Barr and a squad, in power armor.”
“Aye sir.”
He looked around the immediate area with his rifle up and saw no hostiles for him to contend with. He turned we walked closer with his map up until he was over the compass marker. The outlet was in the river, and he would wait until his backup got there. It wasn't long, as Joker was fast and Barr was obviously ready at a minutes notice for something just like this. It meant the Minutemen were a professional fighting force, and running like a well oiled machine. He was about to embark on the final assault and barely had to give a single order. Took more orders, really.
The power armor squad dropped down from the bird and marched to the General. It seemed Preston had sent Daley with them. Barr said, “Sir. Whats the score?”
Jon said, “Outlet in that river. I’m going to scout and make sure you can drop down and walk though when we’re ready. Your seals good?”
“Sturgis always has time for power armor, sir.”
Jon smirked. And said, “Set your perimeter.”
They all took their positions, and Jon simply sat down on the ledge overlooking the river and down town Boston. The staccato of gunshots had dropped considerably since he first saw it. The city was not the war zone it was before. Neither was most of the Commonwealth. He gave a small smile, proud of what he did here. Khan couldn’t have done it. Wouldn't have done it.
He would have taken Maxson out at the first opportunity, and united the entire rest of the Brotherhood against him, and others that saw a threat in him. It would be the wars all over again, which he would have lost all over again. What Jon built was meant to last, by not even having much to do with him at all. Whatever the Commonwealth became he would be the founding father of it, living or dead. No more, no less. He was content in a way he had never been in his entire life. He would finish this fight, take a good long vacation, and find the next one to be had. Chicago called his name, as did Washington. How many other places? Would piper come with him? Could she? If she could, then so could she.
His thoughts were interrupted by the activating of Prime. He stood from his perch, and took a couple steps towards the commotion to view it ever so slightly better. He would have a better time of it if he wasn't missing an eye, but the metal gear was so large he didn’t have that much trouble.
He could hear the blaring alarms and the booming voice of Prime all the way from where he was in perfect detail after removing his helmet. It said, “FUSION CORE, REINITIALIZED. LIBERTY PRIME, FULL SYSTEM ANALYSIS. ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL.”
It began its motions to check their range as it continued to speak, “ALL WEAPONS GREEN. PRIMARY MISSION: DESTRUCTION OF ANY AND ALL CHINESE COMMUNISTS.”
It broke it shackles, clawing them away and took a step forward. Jon smirked, the Institute were of course the Chinese Communists. He wondered how the mothership denizens were reacting about now. From abject terror, falling on their knees in worship, to more modern folks thinking its the sickest shit they’ve ever seen. Some that may even know Liberty Prime already, and then had any and all doubts about their situation erased.
“PROBABLY OF CHINESE COMMUNIST VICTORY: ERROR, NULL VALUE.”
Now that was a burn, Jon thought. It began moving immediately, “PROCEEDING TO TARGET DESTINATION. FREEDOM IS THE SOVEREIGN RIGHT OF ALL AMERICANS. DEMOCRACY IS NON NEGOTIABLE.
Damn straight, Jon thought. Out of all the things tried, a republic, even flawed, was the least inferior system of government. He turned and without much fanfare walked up and dropped off the ledge and into the river. He opened his gills and started breathing again though the warm water. He turned again and powered along the bottom to the outlet pipe. The ground underneath felt solid enough, the pipe big enough. He squatted, heaved up, and kicked hard to propel his mass and density though the water.
His head poked up, “Fall in!”
He dropped back down and took a couple steps into the pipe. He said he would wait, but if he hadn’t been shot in the face that one time, he would have naturally known Liberty Prime toward take the road he was on to the CIT ruins, and the area would be flooded with synths, spilling their plot. He had to move his squad in now, and get them out of the way.
He took a couple steps into the pipe, and one by one his squad followed him in. they hand to climb up some, but not far and eventually entered a cistern in the outlet. Some steps up took them to dry ground in the damp dungeon.
When the entire squad got back to solid ground Jon said, “Okay, wait here until Prime makes it this far.”
“Sir.” Barr said as the squad fanned out into a watch pattern for the small room.
Jon pulled the tape Maxson had given him on the roof of mass fusion, and slotted it into this pip-boy. It had the code for the grate leading further into the outlet, as well as maps of the institute. Maxson still trusted him, at least partially, and the main reactor core was front and center in the layouts passing by his screen. He keyed the local channel and sent the maps to the power armor surrounding him.
“Sir, tune your radio, any station.” One called out.
Jon complied and he heard the words of his foe. Just as he did, he felt the first signs of battle rumbling though the ground. The radio said, “People of the Commonwealth. As you may know, I am Shaun, Director of the Institute, and I am pleased to say we are also capable of hijacking broadcasts. For years, you have suspected the Institute is among you, and recently these fears have been confirmed. But It is not the whole truth. If fact you have been lied too. You see, we, the Institute, are the future. Our superior Technology represents the future of the Commonwealth, not your experiment destined to fail as the others before it did. Today, we have activated our nuclear reactor, ensuring that we will persevere long after the world above ground has ceased to exist. Ensuring mankind had a bright future. We have no desire to interfere in the unimportant details of your daily lives. We simply insist that you do not interfere with Institute operations. To do so, as some of you currently are, will lead to dire consequences you’ll find. Rest easy, my fiends, and know that the future is in safe hands, that mankind will thrive under our guidance.”
Perhaps heard only to Jon, there was near imperceptible strain towards the end of his speech. The stain of a man used to being in full control, not being in control. It was more than realizing he was losing in some way. From the speech, and his overall tone, he thought he had won already. No, he was dying, and didn’t have much time left. He was emotional in his speech. It was as if it was his final send off. If Jon didn’t get the chance to kill the bastard himself, he would be angry indeed.
Barr said, “So, like, is he a super villain, was he trying to convince us he was, wasn’t? What the hell was that supposed to be.”
The sounds of battle got closer. Jon said, “He thinks he’s won. Their mechanical synths are probably being made and sent out still warm by the dozen right now. He’ll attrition us.”
Barr asked, “Then should we go? I get waiting, not wanting to be in the den with backup far off.”
Jon thought a second, they could also be attacking settlements, basically everyone right now. He walked over to the keypad and imputed the code. The grate on the next outlet pipe. Jon once again took point and waded though the grate, with the special forces squad behind.
As he did, he muttered lowly, “Wanna let that stand, pal?”
He was given an answer when the radios clicked again, but to to the official station of the Minuteman. The battle topside had finally reached them. The march of power armor, Prime, his nukes being thrown, the staccato of Minutemen guns was more clear to Jon as he dropped down into another cistern. He quickly moved to give his people behind the room they needed.
Q’s voice came over the radio instead of the normal DJ, “This is Radio Freedom, broadcasting music all day from the castle, all across the Commonwealth. Haha, ha.”
A screeching fiddle rang a few times, and a twangy marching melody overtook it before the fiddle settled back down to match it, “When Johnny comes marching home again, hurrah! hurrah!
“We’ll give him a hearty welcome then, Hurrah! Hurrah!”
“The boys will cheer and the men will shout, and the ladies they will all turn out!”
“And we’ll all feel gay when Johnny comes marching Home!”
John was moving down the hall as Prime threw another nuke, and it threw dust and debris down from the roof. He had already taken out one automated turret, and as aiming at another one.
“The old church bell will peal with joy, Hurrah! Hurrah!”
“To welcome back hour our darling boy, “Hurrah, Hurrah!”
“The village lads and lassies say,”
“With roses they will strew the way,”
“And we’ll all feel gay when Johnny comes marching home!”
Topside the battle was raging. It was more synths than any had seen, and they flooded from everywhere, every street, every window, every crack they could crawl from more synths kept being transported. Their jamming solutions had just failed, and it was all any could think that settlements were suffering attacks as well. It mattered not to the task force. Minutemen fire teams supported Brotherhood squads, Brotherhood yeomen supported The Minutemen’s own power armor force, Garvey front and center leading it with an automatic laser rifle in his hand next to Maxson and his Gatling. They all supported Liberty Prime as he tore though the coast to his target. Throwing a nuke, stomping, and blasting with his laser eye cannon.
Losses were being taken, the high volume of fire and experimental armor piercing Institute weapons being numerous the cause, but their will stronger than cold metal and colder logic. With superior tactics and training, usage of cover, fire and maneuver, coordinated suppression and flanking down the surrounding streets and alleyways though Cambridge, they were making progress. With Prime waging a second great war against the enemies of democracy and freedom, they were carving a path
“Get ready for the Jubilee, Hurrah, hurrah!”
“We’ll give the hero three times three, Hurrah, hurrah!”
“The laurel wreath is ready now,”
“To place upon his loyal brow,”
“And we’ll all feel gay when Johnny comes marching home!”
Jon had made it to the end of another pipe, and opened a hatch leading to another maintenance area. Going though the small catwalk and room, he dropped back down to another cistern. He continued along the piping with his squad in tow, taking out any stray critters, ghouls, and turrets along the way. He felt the battle getting further and further away. By his reckoning, they were still advancing.
“Let love and friendship on that day, Hurrah, hurrah!”
“Their choicest treasures then display, Hurrah, hurrah!”
“And let each once perform some part,”
“To fill with Joy the Warrior’s heart,”
“And we’ll all feel gay when Johnny comes marching home!”
The outlets and cisterns turned into proper service corridors. He also begun to see more institute hardware. Given the security so far, even the turrets were an afterthought put in when the place was built, and never thought of again. They obviously didn’t forget it given the synths and started hearing. He motioned for his squad to slow down and stay back. He crept up and shot the mechanical synths and scientists overseeing them down in the side room they were in. Jon motioned the squad forward and continued down the winding halls.
“In eighteen hundred and sixty one, Hurrah, hurrah!”
“That was where the war begun, Hurrah, hurrah!”
“In eighteen hundred and sixty three,”
“Old Abe, he ended slavery,”
“And we’ll all drink stone whine when Johnny comes marching home!”
“I said we’ll, all, feel, gay, when, Johnny comes marching home!”
The song ended as Jon reached the final stretch. Though a final pipe, a hatch, and it opened to a side access to the same transporter bay he originally entered. He could hear instantly what was happening. There were a fuck load of synths in the room and hall further down. They were lined up and being pushed out though the transporter. A minute shift higher in temperature told him they were indeed warm from manufacture.
He needed to hard charge straight in. More like he needed the pain train behind him to do it. Barr was in t-60 they had salvaged from somewhere, Daley in Sheila, but the t-45 the last two were wearing he could tell used to be Brotherhood. Jon smirked as he slung his rifle and pulled out a couple handfuls of ordnance. He had certainly given enough away to merit some old power armor. The ASAMs, the press, the raw industrial output. As he pulled two pins, he thought he needed to specify that output agreement was for a single plant. He would sneak it in one of the treaties.
He turned and looked to the reader. “Leroy Jenkins mother fucker.”
He turned and picked up a steady pace. Not to fast, as he didn’t want to run into his own grenades. They were simple frags, but would do what he needed them too. The flew from his hands, and bounced of a synth and scientist just begin to react. They blew a moment later as Jon got the hell out of the way.
Barr’s squad wasn't running, but marching at a good clip. Each one had the Armalite LMG and opened up. Their fire stitched around and cut down and human or bot. They got their return fire off, but not long after the squad was in the crowd. They were still shooting, bashing, stomping, and hundreds of synths fell before them in a withering pace.
Jon let them do their work in the close quarters as he hang back. In a couple minutes, and a couple reloads, the crowd was pushed back down the hall. Jon stepped over the bodies, shoving a few out of the way with his boot, and put the holotape in the terminal once again. He used the onboard data to zero the targeting solution, and activated the transporter. One after another a fire team of Minutemen rode in though the molecular beam.
Jon smirked as they materialized, “Shaw. Good to see you without a walker.”
She walked out and gave a quick shake to get the chill from her bones. She gave an overly angry look and said, “They’d have to drag my corpse to this party if I was already dead. Was that music your force brahmin shit?”
Jon scoffed, “Maybe, maybe not, maybe go fuck yourself Colonel Shaw. You know I won’t.”
She laughed as she and the rest of the team fanned out and followed Barr’s squad down the hall from the transporter room. There was one there that surprised him, at least for what he was wearing. He was in a full junker kit, and had a show stopper in his hands.
Jon rose his eyebrow and said, “Sturgis. I expected you would come.”
He chuckled as he went around the terminal and began his work. He spoke as he began typing, “Just not like this. Turns out I’m a synth bossman. Came out in that tape.”
Jon smirked, “I know.”
“Yeah, you could probably sniff it out. Thanks for treating me fair, boss. Now hating guns and security makes sense. I may be a tinkerer to the bone, but I ain’t just what they made me. So that means a gun on this outing. I will use it if I must.” He finished up his typing and tapped his last key with a flourish, and a second team transported in.
Jon said, “Good work.”
Among them as they also fanned out around the transporter room itself and took positions was Deacon. Jon nodded, “Deacon. Piper?”
“You got people there, boss. Sorta gave some orders and said they came from you, which, like,”
“Wasn’t even a lie. Thanks. From the layout, the reactor is in Advanced systems. Got anything to add?”
“Yeah, boss. That place will be locked tight by automated protocols. The override is in the Directors office.”
Jon nodded and said, “Let’s go. Minutemen, this is a green zone. Any trying to run that aren’t shooting at you are to be given a safe passage. Sturgis, just transport them somewhere we can control. For now keep bringing reinforcements in.”
Sturgis said, “Already on it boss. Our mutual friends apparently had a plan like this for a while. I recon an evacuation signal would be on that terminal as well. Maybe you hit it before the brotherhood gets here bossman, just in case.”
Jon nodded again and turned to follow his people though the trail of synths and a few scientists down the halls and steps. He came into the elevator room with his teams posted and waiting for his order to advance from their beachhead into the institute.
Shaw said, “Locked up General. Looks like a side way though that door.”
Jon heard a faint snap in the distance, and the door to the elevator opened on its well oiled tracks. Jon said, “Open says me, I guess. Shaw, Barr, take that side way and start making a mess. Private, go with them. I will be speaking to the Director personally.”
“Sir” Rang around a bit as they took to his order.
Barr was on the ball, and didn’t even acknowledge it. He walked over to the door and kicked It thought. Everyone else followed him, though Shaw wasn’t far behind. Jon stepped into the elevator, and campy elevator music started playing as the elevator spun down on It’s double helix track. As he did he saw the four levels of the Institute, trees growing in the artificial light. On all levels were armed guards ready for the intrusion, mechanical and biological synths alike. There were also scared scientists and synths, civilians caught in the middle of war. They noticed him in the elevator and panicked further. There was a crash above, the battle reaching their ruined campus, and they started screaming as well when the pod dipped below the floor and into the Director’s quarters.
Jon had his rifle up as the main elevator opened. The hall was empty, and made a right turn to lead to another elevator. He entered that, and found the ride to be a pretentious length, easily replaced by just a few stairs. That door opened and he still found no enemies. His hypothesis was closer to being right by the moment. A dying and efficient man wouldn't waste manpower protecting himself.
He followed his nose though the spacious quarters, past an observation room with a pod in the corner, and a synth child in standby mode hunched over. Jon scowled as he walked through and around. Going up some stairs, he found his targets. Both the terminal, and the Director laying in a medical bed. He was gray, thought not as old as his hair would suggest. He was wearing a lab coat and a green sweater underneath. The bed lifted his torso, but his legs were covered by the bottom half of the pod like construction.
Jon walked in and though, mostly ignoring the Director, “So, I seem to have the displeasure of meeting you. My mortal foe apparently.”
Jon cracked the terminal as easily as any other. They hadn’t fixed the flaw of the Rob-co OS, meaning they really only cloned it with perhaps a few minor improvements before calling it their own.
Jon chucked, “What laughable security.
He thumbed though the options and overrode the lock on Advanced Systems. Then the evacuation protocols. The lights dimmed, some flashed, and a voice over the intercom began announcing the evacuation. As he did another crash thundered around the bunker.
Sturgis from his digital perch overrode the comms in the quarters, “Good Job boss. The Reactor is open and the alarm is sounded. I’ll let you get to it.”
The comms cut, and Jon removed his helmet out of respect for the about to be dead. He causally strolled over his a little tune whistling from his lips. Shaun glared daggers into him, and Jon met it with a warm and lopsided smiled, like most of his smiles these days.
Jon said, “You really sent that message out thinking you had won?”
He said, “Our plans didn’t account for your infiltration, nor using the old outlet. We thought it blocked off and impossible to navigate. Obviously it wasn't. The message was prerecorded and set to the activation of the reactor, assuming we would have won in that scenario. Are we speaking just so you can gloat as my life's work burns to ash?”
The crashes thundered again, becoming stronger and now more numerous. Jon took a couple whiffs of the sick man. He said, “Of course it would be prerecorded and set like that. You have cancer, and wanted to stab one last time from hell’s heart at your enemies. For hate’s sake, to spit your last breath at them.”
He coughed a couple times, “Moby Dick. I see you are at least an educated man. There is solace in that. But all I hear is more gloating to a man that hasn't long to care about it.”
Jon said, “I came here for three reasons. First and foremost, you have been sentenced to death by a tribunal of the SCPG for the crimes of mass murder, and slavery.”
Jon drew his singer as the Director scoffed mostly at the charge of slavery. He did not have the energy or time for a debate however. He simply said, “I do not remember attending this tribunal, nor having the chance to defend myself.”
Jon shrugged, “Fair trials are for people who's crimes aren't so patently self evident.”
“Your second reason?”
“To give you Hancock’s regards. The man who’s brother you murdered and replaced.”
“A junkie thug. Typical of the surface world. The final reason?”
Jon lifted his eye patch, Exposing his scarred over wound, “You shot me in the face, motherfucker, and you didn’t even have the common decency to pull the trigger yourself. Now I hope you like the taste of lead you cock sucking commie bastard.”
The Director looked up with shocked disgust at the General. The institute simply lost. On a certain level he could accept and understand that. They had taken the pass at Thermopylae, and quickly outflanked them. But to spout such blatant, vulgar, ham fisted propoga-
His thoughts were cut off at 800 feet per second. The round entered his left eye and splashed them across the formerly white bed. He holstered his Singer, and picked his helmet back up. His target was down, and now it was time to move on He hopped back into the elevator, then the second one, then saw the battle taking place in the main concourse. The lift stopped and opened. He could almost hear Cho laughing from her grave on the wind of the new ventilation shaft mined out by Prime. Q was up to his tricks as always.
He lifted his show stopper and went back to war, which never changed he thought.