Back in the long abandoned secret lab, Rosie paced as her diagnostics finished. She’d ran them twice at Charlie’s insistence, on both the robot and the suit. “Help me with this.” Charlie helped Rosie into the stealth suit, holding the seam together to prompt it to join. Rosie pulled the hood up and pushed the face plates together.

For a moment, the darkness brought a claustrophobic panic, then the inside of the thin, glass like visor lit up. The suit began to pressurise, as if it could finally breathe again. Rosie felt a tightness in her limbs, then her chest, as the suit compressed around her.

It shrank down to a perfect fit. The hexagonal cells drawing closer, the matte plates realigning to fit the curve of her chest. The impact protection layer shifted and moulded, getting thicker around her feet and thinner around her fingers. As Rosie paced, her footsteps became muffled, despite walking on a steel floor.

“You good?” Charlie asked, her tone calm but her eyes wide.

“Incredible.” Rosie felt light and sleek. More than that, she felt agile, centred and balanced. The suit moved like a shadow. Charlie turned as the sound of clanking approached, her hand hovering over the slung submachine gun.

“Principal Charlie, what is Admin Rosie’s current location?” Charlie looked at the stealth suit, clearly visible to her.

“I’m right here.” Rosie answered.

“Possible visual error, beginning diagnostic.” Rosie accessed the remote override and looked through the machine’s eye. The high definition picture showed Charlie clearly, yet Rosie saw no trace of herself.

“It can’t see me.” Rosie dove into the system, scrolling to the new option brought forth by connecting to the suit. She remembered the last time that she’d surprised Charlie, and did not want to repeat it. “Just relax.”

A faint current built against Rosie’s skin, spreading to the air around her. A shimmer crept from up her feet, cloaking her into the steel greys of the lab. Rosie stared through her hands at Charlie’s shocked face. The field fell away like ash as Rosie shut it down.

“Stealth tech. I’ve never seen it up close. Or not seen it.” Charlie looked shocked. Rosie wondered if she had the same expression when she didn’t quite know what existed and what didn’t. She pressed the orange visor in and it separated down the middle with a hiss. The hood gave a little as Rosie peeled it back.

“Admin Rosie, evac is prepared. Unexpected tree growth had jammed the outer hatch. I have cleared it and the Velo is charged and ready.”

“Velo, there’s a Vertibird down here?” Charlie slipped and spoke directly to Janey for the first time.

“Negative. The Velocibird, or Velo, was developed in the late twenty sixties by Blake Technical. It served as a platform for covert infil and exfil, or short range reconnaiss—”

“Show us.”

Janey clanked ahead down the long corridor. The lights activated for Rosie and Charlie as they followed. They swept a small storage room, more silver cases, and a wall of spare robot parts. At the end of the corridor a single door led into a large open area.

Round walls leading up to the surface, a circle of clouded sky above. Rosie took a deep breath of fresh air, feeling her tension ease and catching the scent of charred wood from the cut and shattered roots around the edge.

In the centre of the room stood a triangular shape under a thick sheet. Charlie pulled it away to reveal the Velo. Acute angles coated in jet black, teardrop housing over engines at the end of stub wings. The exhaust housing segmented to vector the thrust. The oddly shaped doors slid back to reveal two carbon fibre seats, one behind the other.

Rosie darted for the front seat, knowing Charlie could fly a Vertibird. She connected to the socket in the middle of the narrow control column. A blank screen pulsed into life filled with digital dials. Triangle outlines faded into clear glass over her head and at her feet. Data scrolled down her view. Diagrams, manuals, statistics, new words like yaw and pitch.

“I can fly it.” Rosie let slip. Charlie hid an uneasy expression. “And this thing is fast.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Charlie walked round the low slung craft. “It’s an escape vehicle, built to outrun the apocalypse.” Something occurred to her. “You know what this means right?” Rosie didn’t, too lost in the thrilling new data. “It means Burton Blake had somewhere to go.”

“No mapping data, it’s like it’s been wiped.” Rosie smiled, “but I’ve got an idea.”

“Alright, load it up. Saves us the trouble of walking home.”

Rosie stuffed three silver crates with the sealed fatigues lined with a ballistic weave. Half a dozen compact submachine guns with spare mags and ammo, and a box of six sidearms. The same calibre as smgs, high capacity mag, two tone frame with a blocky grip and narrow barrel.

She made sure to cover the spare robotic parts, especially the blade and claw. Rosie didn’t want Charlie to be surprised and react poorly. Janey took the crates to the Velo, able to weigh them automatically.

Inside the subterranean penthouse, Rosie found Charlie staring at the wall. She wiped away a tear as Rosie entered. “We’ve got space for another two crates, maybe three.” Rosie didn’t know how to ask what might be wrong. Charlie pointed to the wall around a fake fireplace, now illuminated.

Above the glass case displaying the antique sniper rifle hung a series of old photographs. Each beneath the mounted heads of long extinct creatures. Their heads frozen in fierce growls. The picture showed a younger Burton Blake grinning over the corpses of orange striped and spotted cats.

“Trophies.” Charlie sneered. “How could anyone kill such beautiful things.” Rosie stared into the glazed dead eyes of pre-war creatures. Thick fur, symmetrical, healthy, uncontaminated by mutations. Brass plaques displayed the name and year under the heads of a tiger, a snow leopard, a grey wolf. The snarling beasts from John’s nightmares looked almost meek now.

Rosie ran her gloved fingers along the glass case, sending out a teeth grinding screech. A mere tap of the knuckle shattered the display case. Rosie pulled on the double sling of the rifle, one strap over each shoulder, then plucked free the compound bow and handed it to Charlie.

“One less trophy.” Charlie smiled and took it.

“Come on, let's go home.”

Rosie helped load the last two crates. Packed with formal suits in blue and black, each lined with a ballistic weave. The other held books, and a selection of scientific equipment.

“Alright, shut it down.” Rosie knew what Charlie meant.

“About that…” Rosie had an answer for any objections, cold, reasoned answers. Yet those didn’t explain the worry she felt.

“It’s not a pet Rosie.” Charlie sighed as Rosie didn’t understand the word. “I’ve seen these things take out a squad of armoured knights.”

“I can shut her down with a word.” Rosie tried to correct her slip. “It, not her, it." Rosie tried the practical reasons first. “It’s an Assaultron Dominator class, it’s got protection and medical subroutines.”

“I am also proficient in the use of small arms.” Janey spoke from across the room, trying to be helpful and doing the opposite. Rosie looked over the haul, the weapons, gear, to say nothing of the sleek aircraft or stealth suit. Somehow the real prize felt like the robot. Rosie tried to grasp for something that explained the feeling of empathy towards the very real killer robot.

“I’ll leave her if you want, but I would never put you or the team at risk.” Rosie wedged herself Into the pilot’s seat, leaving Charlie to think.

“There’s nowhere for her to sit.” Charlie sighed, “And you’re going to feed and walk her everyday.” Rosie didn’t see why that made Charlie laugh.

“Janey!” Rosie yelled as flicked open a panel on the underside of the craft.

“This is a most eventful cycle.” The bot crouched, facing away as it folded its legs in an inhuman manner. The arms pushed the now square form up and it retracted into the chassis, leaving the head free to operate as a weapon.

“You’re going to explain this to Matt. He isn’t going to like it.” Charlie took her seat.

With an instinctive ease Rosie powered the throttle up. The airframe began to vibrate as the engines sucked in air. Suddenly the Velo climbed. Filling the round vertical tunnel with a low rumble like distant thunder. Rosie kept the stick centred, flying up by the digital display alone. The sound vanished almost instantly as they ascended through a flash of canopy and into the night sky.

“Are there comms?” Charlie asked from the rear seat. Rosie let the craft hover while she patched in to comm.

“Go ahead.”

“Maelstrom, Whirlwind, how copy?”

“Solid copy Whirlwind. Need medic stat. Eta to bright spot?” Rosie flashed a hand signal.

“Nine mikes.”

“Cyclone is hit. Ten mil, lower right abdomen, no exit wound. Bp and pulse low. Please advise.” Rosie heard fear in Brandon’s voice.

“Prep for surgery. Inbound.”

Rosie flicked covered switches and the teardrop shaped engines turned flat. Gravity began to pull them down for the briefest of moments, then the turbines fired. Rosie felt pinned into a moulded seat as the aerodynamic craft shot through the night like a bullet. At least until Rosie worked the pedals to vector the thrust, sending the Velocibird into a sharp turn. Heading home.

Forest, rivers and ruins zipped by below until the lighthouse pierced the horizon. Rosie flew over the open ground in front, going into a stomach churning turn over the lakebed. The Velo hovered quietly a few meters from the ground. Rosie looked down through the glass at her feet and saw Paul, his arms stretched out level. She watched Paul as the craft descended.

Rosie didn’t notice the automated deployment protocol start. Janey sprang from the back of the craft, unfolding in mid air and absorbing the drop. Paul drew his sidearm and fell back. Rosie slammed the Velo down between them with a loud thud.

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“Charlie?” Paul yelled as the doors slid open. “What the fuck?!”

“It’s friendly.” Paul looked more confused. “Later. We’ve got a patient.”

Charlie helped peel the suit of Rosie, quickly getting her into a clean vest, and rubbing her hands and forearms with gel.

“In the chaos about two dozen slaves broke out. We shepherded them for a mile, till a patrol caught their trail. Matt took out six, but…” Paul trailed off.

“He’s gonna be fine. Rosie’s got this.” She’d guessed Charlie would need help because of the broken wrist, but not that she’d be performing surgery.

“First?” Charlie asked as they went downstairs.

“Stem the bleeding.”

“Next?”

“Find and extract the bullet.”

“Then?”

“Suture and close.”

“Good. You’ve got this. Relax.”

Between the fear for her friend bleeding through his bandages on the table, and the adrenaline of flying, Rosie had to fight a tremor in her good hand. Brandon sat by Matt, a jovial tone masking a worried expression.

“Late as always. Bloody Recon.” Brandon joked while Matt grinned through the pain.

“We leave you boys alone for a few hours.” Charlie kept the mood light. “How you doing kiddo?” She checked him over. Removing the bandages. Reading the times and doses scrawled on his chest, and prodding lightly around the wound.

“I’m sorry Charlie.” Matt slurred. “I thought, I…”

“Don’t be sorry. Listen kiddo, I broke my wrist so I’m going to assist Rosie. And I’m going to need you to stay awake, ok?” Brandon took Matt’s hands and pulled his chair closer. Rosie saw the worry on Charlie’s face as she stepped back. “His bp and pulse are low, I can’t fully sedate him yet. We need to find the bullet.” Rosie took a step closer and stopped.

“Wait.” Charlie looked to reassure her, but Rosie had an idea. “Janey. She can scan and cauterise. It’ll be quicker.”

“Fuck. Do it. At least it’ll get his bp up.”

Charlie signalled silently. Paul hovered by Matt’s legs, ready to hold them down. Brandon subtly did the same with his arms. Rosie tried to think of something to say. She couldn’t. A clanking approached through the quiet, then the door. “Fuck.” Brandon’s face spread the panic to Matt.

“What the fuck is that?!” Matt sounded scared.

“Good evening. My designation is Janey. I’m a real bitch.” Stunned silence filled the room.

“Medscan.” Rosie snapped.

“Confirmed.” The black armoured bot strode towards Matt, staring down as eyes filled with fear. “Please remain still.”

“Boss! Get it Boss!” Matt thrashed as Paul and Brandon pinned him down.

“Captain Fletcher!” Brandon yelled. Rosie had never heard him yell, or use rank. It worked as Matt grimaced and focused on him. “What colour is your uniform?”

“Black sir.”

“Why?”

“So they don’t see us coming.” Matt recited the words like a mantra, drawing strength from the Brotherhood structures that once governed his life.

“Which means?”

“Recon gets the job done.”

“You’re damn right. Now you heard the metal bitch captain, don’t move.” Matt found his discipline buried under pain and chems, and brought it to the surface.

“Subject has bullet fragments lodged near the renal artery and hepatic vein.” Rosie used the streaming data from the medical scan to highlight the split bullet. Two small flecks of green inside Matt’s abdomen.

“Scalpel.” Charlie handed her the thin blade and Rosie set to work.

Rosie fought the tremor from her good hand as she made the first incision below the ribs. Charlie swabbed and washed the blood away. Rosie cut deeper through the flesh. “Forceps.” Nestled near the pulsing vein Rosie saw the sharp edged fleck of lead.

“I got it." Rosie took a deep breath. "Extracting in three, two, one.” The metal fragment came free and thick blood began to pool in its place. A thin line of red shot from Janey’s cranial laser, searing the vein shut. Matt grunted in pain, somehow forcing his Recon forged will to keep his body still.

“Doing great kiddo.” Charlie made eye contact with Matt, Rosie couldn’t look him in the eye. Too focused on the larger fragment near his kidney. “We’re halfway home.” Charlie switched her attention back to Rosie, handing her another, larger scalpel.

“You know Rosie picked you out a present kiddo, ain’t that right Rosie.” Charlie tried to keep them both calm.

“Yeah, found an antique rifle. Real high end, got the magazine at the back.” Rosie kept a casual tone as she widened the small entrance wound.

“Bullpup, keeps the barrel long. That is interesting.” Matt sounded pained, but focused.

“That’s not what I meant. She found our resident caveman a hunting bow.” Charlie laughed and brought a grin from Matt.

“We’re going to need you on your feet asap, scout. Can’t have them stags thinking they own the place.” Paul kept Matt distracted as Charlie soaked up blood.

“Did you ever tell Rosie about the day we met?” Brandon took over, bringing a smile from Matt. “Paul and I were tracking a band of slavers. We thought there were three or four of them tops. Right until eight of them opened up on us from an old apartment building.”

Rosie slipped the forceps in at an angle, trusting the spot of green in her vision. Matt tensed and Brandon drew closer, keeping him distracted.

“You remember right Paul, two of us walked into an ambush.”

“I do. Pinned down, no backup, no armour. A real shit show.”

“There we were, trying to fire back, and all of sudden I see a slaver fly out a third floor window.” Matt let out a laugh that became a whimper. “Next thing I know it starts raining slavers. And I see this skinny fifteen year old kid waving at me.”

“I got it.” Rosie slid the last fragment out, followed by a precise burning beam of light to stop the bleeding.

“We got it kiddo.” Charlie stuck an injector in his thigh and relief washed over them all. “Rest Matt, you’re going to be fine.”

“Rosie I...thank…” Matt passed out as the med-x took hold.

“Scans indicate strong vitals and a ninety three percent chance of survival.” Janey stepped back. “I will continue unloading the Velocibird. Sunrise is in eighty seven minutes, atmospheric readings indicate optimal viewing conditions.” And with that the machine built to kill clanked away.

“Did that clanker just go outside to watch the fucking sunrise?!” Paul seemed stunned, as did everyone else.

Rosie closed the wounds under Charlie’s guidance. She hung an iv bag of antibiotics and set up Charlie for a transfusion. Between them they relayed the events of the last few hours to Paul and Brandon as Rosie put Charlie’s arm in a cast. Feeling the powdery bandages reminded Rosie of the night they met.

Paul and Charlie shared an embrace and a kiss while Rosie washed more blood from her hands at the sink. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Brandon, tears streaming down his face. “Thank you Rosie.”

“I just did what Charlie told me.” Rosie felt drained, physically and emotionally. The stress and panic she’d held down made its way to the surface as Brandon embraced her. It brought tears to her eyes, then she threw up in the sink.

“It’s just the adrenaline Rosie.” Charlie couldn’t get up with stopping the transfusion. “You did fucking great. Didn’t panic, didn’t hesitate. You saved his life.” Charlie made eye contact across the unconscious man on the table, letting Rosie see the pride in her face. “And you didn’t break his wrist.” Rosie let out a laugh that eased the tension. “Now what does a lady have to do to get a drink around here?”

Rosie poured whiskey into cups and threw hers back like Charlie did. She sat by Charlie at her insistence, letting her scroll through the recorded medical data on the pipboy.

Brandon returned with the stealth suit, laying it out on the workbench. Paul came from below, carving slices of roasted radstag effortlessly with the Cosmic knife. He drizzled them in relish, wrapped them in the soft white circles, and handed them out. Rosie felt like she hadn’t eaten in days. Paul became increasingly amused as she asked for more, eating twice as much as anyone. She could see Charlie’s worry reflected in Brandon’s face.

The tiredness seemed to set in all at once. Fed, slumping in the leather seating, and too drained to walk upstairs, Rosie drifted off.

“How did she do in there, really?” Brandon asked as Charlie sat next to him.

“She killed four men in the blink of an eye, literally. Her pulse never broke eighty, then it jumped to one twenty in a second. A few minutes later she hit a steel wall hard enough to stop her heart, got up, and took down that clanker. Which by the way is now her guard dog.” Charlie threw back another whiskey. “Scratch that, my guard dog.” Brandon looked confused. “She made it my bodyguard, with a word. Then she flew us home.”

“You trust the bot?”

“Shit no. Remember Falcon and her unit. No.”

“You trust her?”

“Yes.” Charlie didn’t hesitate. “Saved my life, and Matt’s.”

“She saved the bot and not the slaves.” Brandon’s insight helped Charlie understand.

“She saved an asset.” Charlie didn’t want to ask the next question, but had to know. “How many did she hit with those guns?”

“At least twenty, probably closer to thirty.”

“She can’t live this life, Bran. She has to be kept off the grid, somewhere quiet. She deserves that…but...”

“We can’t let the Brotherhood have this tech.”

“If they had ten of her, twenty, a hundred. I don’t even want to think about that.”

“We’ll find that damn Vault and get her clear of this.” Brandon had resolve in his voice. “Her boyfriend too.”

“We better, because if she decides to go get him they won’t be able to stop her.” Charlie turned away and lay on her side to take the pressure of her broken ribs. Brandon poured himself another drink and stared at the girl sleeping on the couch opposite him, wondering if he’d made a mistake.