Chapter 41 The Brother’s Hood

John spent the next two weeks working in the Pass. Most of it spent breaking rocks. He’d managed to excavate around half of the space he’d need. All done by driving in stakes and cracking free slabs of grey rock. Each day Robco would pick out the best pieces to sell. Having already fitted every house in the Rest with stone countertops. All except John’s.

The days spent swinging a hammer at rock brought up a lot of old feelings in John. Each time he found his mind pulled him back to the Vault he would stop, down tools, and walk through the open space. The low winter sun or rain or howling wind always brought a smile to his face.

Today however, he simply couldn’t face another day of breaking rocks. Not with the long day ahead. He slipped from his bed without waking Rosie, letting her sleep in. John heard a gentle knock on the door as he ate breakfast.

“Morning sir.” John opened the door to see Grimm. It still felt strange to see him here.

“Morning John. Is the lady of the house available?” He asked.

“You mean Rosie?” He turned as she appeared behind him.

“We’re going to train.” She kissed him as she passed. John suddenly began to worry. They took off running at a steady pace.

John hurried next door, growing increasingly anxious. He found Robco up and drinking coffee at the back door. “Can we take those slabs into town today?”

“What’s the hurry?” Robco picked up on something.

“I feel like a change of pace, plus Grimm is training Rosie.” John couldn’t shake the image of Grimm yelling at Rosie like he did to him. And then Rosie punching him.

“We could stick around, take bets on who lives.” Robco teased him, knowing a little about John’s training.

Less than an hour later they were on the road. The rolling clank of Robco’s truck filling the world with noise.

Outside the Rest, Rosie followed Grimm at a steady pace, jogging through the woods. She found it hard to reconcile the man John had told her about with the man she’d met. Apart from the fact she saw a fighter from the moment she met him.

“This is a good spot.” Grimm stopped in a clearing, dropping his pack. His eyes scanning the ground and throwing small rocks aside. “Alright.” Grimm stopped a few feet away, turning to face her. “Hit me.” He stood in a relaxed manner, hands clasped behind his back.

“You know I hit Paul once, knocked him out cold.” She still felt bad about that, although it seemed to impress her latest instructor.

“Whenever you’re ready.” Grimm didn’t bat an eye.

Rosie took her stance and moved. She threw a quick succession of jabs, hitting nothing but air. An elbow strike, a roundhouse kick, Grimm slipped them all. He didn’t even move his hands, everything dodged by sidestepping or bending at the waist. Her frustration grew, and Rosie launched into a flurry of heavy kicks. For an instant she’d thought a blow had been landed. Only for Grimm to twist the block into a grab and send her tumbling to the ground.

“Very impressive.” Grimm offered her a hand up. She took it, surprise overwhelming her frustration.

“I didn’t even hit you.” She brushed the dirt from her hands.

“No but I had to really work, for a couple.” He had a cocky grin. Rosie wondered if this is how she made people feel at times. “Impressive, given your limitation.”

“I don’t want to have any limitations.” She answered without thinking, expressing a desire she hadn’t fully understood.

“Your form is perfect. It makes you predictable.” Grimm took a bottle from his pack. “Like the great man said, be like water.” He took a drink and passed it to Rosie. “Be formless, shapeless. Put water in a cup and it becomes the cup.” He took his stance again.

“You want me to attack you like a wet cup?” Rosie didn’t get it. She almost wished for a berating like John complained about. At least that would make sense.

It took another two hours, and more cryptic instruction, until Rosie landed a hit.

John reached Shadowtown by early afternoon. They had to go a longer route with the truck, following old train tracks that brought them near to the north gate. “One of us needs to wait with the truck. Why don’t I go sell off the stone, then you can do your jobs.” Robco suggested.

“Sounds good.” John still couldn’t believe he could make money from slabs of rock

“Remember, the truck is not for sale.” Robco sounded serious, John didn’t know if he was.

Robco walked away on his cane, leaving John to unload the slabs. They’d been polished and finished with something like resin. He leant them up against the truck then sat on the back. The half Sentry bot that normally guarded the truck removed to allow for the extra weight.

A short time later Robco came back. A man in a bloodied apron and a bot towing a cart with him. He exchanged a tub of frozen meat and a pouch of caps for two slabs. A woman passed by and asked for small, thin cut slates. John found a stack in the back, trying not to laugh as the woman planned to serve food on them.

“Well, how ‘bout that.” Robco Counted the pile of caps in the front seat. “Must be a couple of thousand caps here.”

“You were right. Take half.” John would have smashed the rock and dumped what he didn’t need.

“Not a chance.” Robco scooped the caps into a large pouch and tossed it to John. “It’s a good thing you’re doing son, I’m glad to help.”

“Thank you.” Every cap he could get would help.

John walked through the market, finding Louisa. She worked a stall in town with a friend, selling clothes she made. John gave her the caps, trusting her to pick out samples and bulk cloth he could deliver to the Vault. He already had a few old sewing machines to take. Along with more books, pens and paper. All things they would need to fit in.

He left Louisa's stall as she picked things out from the back, drawn by a nearby food stand. He bought a sausage served in a long roll. “Mustard or ketchup?” The vendor asked.

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“Mustard.” John didn’t know what that meant but played along well enough by now. He tore through it and bought two more, much to the vendor's amusement.

“You want another hot dog?” The vendor asked, putting raw sausages on the grill.

“I’m eating dog?!” John felt horrified, until he saw the vendor laugh. He breathed a sigh of relief. It didn’t last.

From behind him, John heard the trademark whirring stomp of power armour. He ducked into the nearest alley and watched. The crowd opened around the stomping pair armoured suits, closing in behind them as they passed. He followed as closely as he dared, knowing the armour’s blind spots.

The more he followed, the stranger it seemed. He knew armour wasn’t allowed inside the walls. And they seemed to be carrying something between them.

He trailed them into a nearby shop on the south side in the weapon market. John lingered for a moment, then started to get closer. He couldn’t see the armour through the windows. He slipped inside, reaching up to stop the bell from ringing.

Inside looked like a normal shop. Junk and books on one side. A better than average selection of weapons on the other. An empty glass counter and scale for weighing caps at the back. He heard voices go silent and instinctively drew his pistol.

John crept into cover by the door, hearing someone approach. “Don’t move.” He thumbed back the hammer, holding his gun to a man’s back. “I just want to talk.” The man turned, John lowered his weapon. “Styx!” His teammate and friend. He realised who the second suit of armour belonged to. And that he had a gun on him.

"You here to rob us John?” Styx asked playfully.

“We ain’t even open yet.” Acheron stepped in, holding a high calibre revolver, more than capable of shooting through the thin wall John leant against.

“I’m sorry, I saw the armour.” His friends saw the fear he had. “How did you convince the Sheriff to let you bring it in?”

“We brought in the top five bounties.” Acheron gave his usual understated response.

“Nearly took the whole weekend.” Styx bragged and complained in the same breath, making John laugh.

“So you’re setting up as bounty hunters?” John knew they’d planned on getting out.

“Not exactly.” Styx nodded to the backroom, Acheron showed him in.

John saw what they’d been carrying. A sign made from polished metal letters. He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh of frustration.

“What’s wrong, too subtle?” Styx sounded serious.

“The Brother’s Hood.” John read the sign out loud, starting with metal letters, then the writing underneath. “Office For Security, Transport, Extraction, Exploration, and Logistics.” John didn’t know how to react.

“We can’t hide what we are John, no sense in trying to.” Acheron had a point. It made John admire them more.

“I have a lead on newly made guns.” John couldn’t think of better representatives for the Brotherhood. And it was good to see his friends

Outside the Rest, the knocking of wood against wood echoed through the forest. “Faster.” Grimm pushed her back with a flurry of strikes. Rosie deflected them with the katana shaped wooden sword. “Make an opening.” The attacks continued at speed.

Rosie reacted without thinking. She blocked a high strike, sidestepped, and lunged. The tip of her training sword pressed lightly against Grimm’s throat. “Good.” He stepped back and gave a small bow that Rosie copied. “Come on, I said I’d cook.” Grimm sounded unsure for the first time today.

“John told me something about you.” Rosie said as they walked back. Grimm smiled. “He heard a story about you killing three men in a bar, with a pen.” He laughed. “Is it true?”

“No.” Grimm looked her in the eye. “It was a pencil.” He kept walking as Rosie stopped.

“Can you teach me how to do that?” She caught up to him, eager to learn.

John came home to an empty house. He didn’t know if that meant training had gone well, or badly. Either way, it made it easier for him to leave. The good natured residents of the Rest had politely asked him to find a better spot for take off and landing. He had plans to build a pad, but for now it meant towing the bird outside the fence. Robco’s truck managed it with ease.

Night had fallen by the time he reached the Vault. He used his internal night vision, wary of using the bright spot light. He found that not only had his somewhat vague instructions had been followed, they’d been improved upon.

Below him, carved from the rock, a landing pad had been built. The sides high enough to hide the Vertibird. Lights at a low angle so they could only be seen from above. He landed and took the stone carved stairs down, standing before the closed Vault door.

He connected to the terminal in the wall and vmailed Rick. Being here made him anxious. The black circle looming over him, bringing back memories. Metal screeched against metal, the start made John draw his weapon and aim. He shook off the burst of adrenaline and composed himself before they saw him.

“Been getting your messages.” Rick held up his pipboy. Rosie had rigged something that let him vmail from the Rest. “Got two packed up for you, one’s in rough shape. They’re coming up.” He seemed in a bigger rush than John.

“Thanks for this.” John knew it had been a big ask. “I need to get things moving. Atmospheric scans…” John stopped himself before quoting Janey verbatim. “The weather is getting bad, this’ll help.”

“Got more rifles, a few smaller guns, you want them too?” Rick asked, John nodded and Rick started sending more messages.

It took hours to load the crates, pushing the weight limit to the maximum. John took the last load of cloth back up. “How have things been?” He asked a distracted Rick.

“Things are tense.” He didn’t go into detail.

“Not much longer Rick. Three months.” John knew how long three months could feel.

Rosie came in to an empty house. She’d spent most of the evening at Anne’s, picking out books. Rosie slid them carefully on the shelves she’d built, then she tripped the switch to open the secret compartment. Rosie decided to do something she’d been putting off. She took her antique sniper rifle and went out the back door.

She didn’t feel like making up a lie for whoever held the watch. Rosie balanced along one the steel buttress beams, pulling herself up and over the log wall. Walking silently through the dark felt like an echo of being out in the field. She felt an urge to go looking for trouble, but knew John wouldn’t like it.

Rosie padded along the top of the cliffs above the Pass, looking for the best spot. Suddenly she caught a glimpse of a figure, and slipped into shadow. “Evening Rosie.” Grimm said in a calm voice.

“How did you know it was me?” She tried to keep the frustration from her voice.

“I didn’t hear you coming.” Grimm gave her an answer.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Her frustration escaped, making Grimm laugh.

“You’re out here to dial in.” Grimm held up a sketch on his notepad. The ranges and calculations for sniper shots she planned on doing. “Besides, you’re the senior officer, it’s your job”

“I’m not really a captain.” Rosie told him the truth. “That was something Brandon said to mess with John, I didn’t take the oath.”

“Rosie, if a sentinel says you’re a captain then you’re a captain. Battlefield promotion.” He turned to look at her. “Have to do something about that oath though.”

“Why?” She tried not to sound glib.

“The oath separates us from them.” Grimm looked back out over the world filled with threats. “Keeping to the oath made me the best version of myself. It’s a sacred thing.” He let the idea sink in before getting up. “Come on, you can help an old man climb a wall.”

John touched down in the Pass, dumping the slung cargo and leaving the crates in the bird. He covered it in the camo netting, trusting Rosie’s security protocols. He came in to a roaring fire and soft music in the air.

“How was your day?” Rosie asked, tearing herself away from her book.

“Busy.” He slumped onto the couch next to her. “You?”

“Same.” She smiled and went back to her book. Beyond her bloodied and taped knuckles, Rosie seemed fine.

“Grimm wasn’t too tough on you was he?” John had nearly punched Grimm more than a few times.

“No, Mick’s a gentleman.” She sounded like they had a pleasant day. John couldn’t believe it.

“He didn’t yell at you, or call you names, or ask questions that had no right answers?” Even the memory made him tense up a little. Rosie laughed as if they couldn’t possibly be talking about the same person. “Good.” He sat back, unsure how he felt.

“Don’t pout John, it's unbecoming.” Rosie turned the page in her book, putting her bare feet across his lap and biting her lip to hide her smile.