Chapter Text
MacCready's disconcertion was first palpable when their trajectory veered due-east. Fiona didn't understand why he appeared so troubled - and somewhat vexed - until they found themselves passing by Fluffy's cave with Vault 81 leering at them through the glare of a setting sun.
"Are we backtracking?" she asked aloud, concern mingling with mild aggravation. Savage's massive footprints didn't lead them into her nesting cave but past it. Fluffy was at the mouth of it. He looked their way, then directed his muzzle to point at the demolished city looming on the horizon.
"It looks like the Gunners gave her the run-around," said MacCready. He was frowning as he nodded to Fluffy. The Alpha Male Deathclaw vanished into the confines of his home. "Maybe they were trying to throw her off the trail. I guess they forgot how Deathclaw noses act."
Fiona didn't like that this was bringing them farther and farther away from the relay tower. For each step they took, the possibility of a rendezvous with Sasha and Rhys was becoming more and more distant. Her mind dug for solutions to that problem, found none, and forced open her mouth to express such irritations with varying expletives, some so bad they made MacCready blush.
Their journey was pocket-marked with random encounters with the Commonwealth's festering wildlife - from wild mongrels to massive black winged insects MacCready called Bloatflies ... and a bear. Rather, a Yao Guai. The merc with a mouth pulled Fiona behind some boulders and they both watched the massive four-legged carnivore sniff the air vigorously before moving on. Fiona was about to ask why they bothered to duck and cover for one of them when several more followed their leader.
"Yao Guai typically travel together," he explained to her. "One's a powerful nuisance. Multiple is like standing in front of a firing squad of fangs and claws."
Fiona and MacCready traced Savage's footsteps to train tracks. They followed until their path intersected with a roadway, which dipped into a ramp with large concrete walls on either side. The railroad passed over these walls like a bridge. Only when the familiar huffing and grumbling of a Deathclaw became apparent did they stop to look down.
Once upon a time, the ramp below them ran through a tunnel. 200 years later, the pavement was cracked with dying grass and shrubs poking through the exposures and rubble. Several cars - some of them not in terrible shape but obviously not in working order - and the husk of an old commercial bus dotted what had once been a highway. Further down, the pavement almost completely vanished beneath dunes of broken cement and lakes of stagnant water. Three wire-mesh barrels were alight with fire, casting a haunting orange glow. On the far end of the ramp was a wall with two entrances - one for incoming traffic and the other for outgoing. It was adorned with a large, silvery-steel face sculpture marred with rusted grooves and bullet holes. Above it, in equally-large metal letters, were the words 'MASSACHUSETTS TURNPIKE'.
No cars would be getting in and out of those tunnels any time soon - or ever, really. Both opening were cordoned off by the tunnel's collapsed ceiling. The only way in or out looked like it was through a door just inside the outgoing traffic tunnel's opening.
And there was one other big obstacle ...
"Well, we found her," MacCready announced in a whisper. He'd ducked below the train tracks' railing to avoid being seen by the very large, very angry mother Deathclaw below them.
Her jagged teeth were stained with fresh, bright red blood stains and hanging strips of flesh. Those flexing razors they called her claws were similarly decorated, and Fiona watched with horrified amazement as the Matriarch sharpened one long talon against the other in violent anticipation. Alabaster oculars were focused with searing intent on the door just beyond her. Savage bleated an infuriated roar, then stomped to and fro in irritated perplexion.
"At least we know where the Gunners are at ... "
"I can see at least two problems with this," Fiona muttered sarcastically.
"Three," MacCready corrected. He was greeted with a sneer and scoffed in return. "Let's see ... This whole spot is pretty open. We can't exactly take cover behind the cars. Not for long at least. She'd flip them over. There's the stairs," he pointed to two sets of them leading down to a door by the road on either side of the turnpike. "We could take those down and book it when the time's right. But we won't be able to leave the same way we get in ... "
Fiona understood that much. Savage would be waiting expectantly for them to leave. She doubted having the egg would quell the Deathclaw. Recalling how much damage the Matriarch had done to Rhys by just flicking her arm, Fiona mused over what the result would be when she actually employed the natural weapons she was born with. She thought of the Gunner's corpse back at the cave and made a gargled at the disturbing mental image.
"Lucky us, the tunnel follows through to Boston. But that means we wouldn't be able to meet up with your sis and her boy toy." Frowning, MacCready stroked his beard. "And it looks like there's a fourth problem."
"I'm all ears," Fiona told him. She watched as he raised a finger to the sky with a grim outlook stretched across his prematurely-aged face.
Something distant gave a hollow rumble. It raced across the sky, cracking all the way.
"RadStorm." That's right. Fiona had noticed the sickly green hue starting to take form farther away not long ago. She didn't think it would have traveled to them that quickly ... "Most likely, we're gonna have to make a mad dash to that door when Savage has her back turned, clear out the tunnel, find the egg, and ride the storm out."
"What about Sasha and Rhys?" Her concern was not lost on him.
"There might be a radio inside ... " Offering her a way-too-confident smirk, he added, "But we won't know until we go and find out. So how about it, pardner?"
"Yyeaaah, I've heard worse plans." Like throwing a grenade down at my feet? "Split up, or go in from the same side?"
"Same side. We can distract her."
"I hope you know what you're doing."
"Heh, so do I."
Fiona and MacCready tip-toed their way across the railway tracks, desperately trying to keep their shoes from clicking loudly against the steel beams beneath them. Once back on concrete, they made their way down the set of stairs to the left until they were positioned at the door. MacCready slipped out first. He ducked behind a car, peeked through it's window to see where Savage was located, then waved Fiona over. For all the hype over a Deathclaw's heightened sense of smell, Savage was oblivious to their presence. Was she so engrossed in her current pursuit that she didn't care to notice?
"So what do you have in mind for a dis - " She stopped in mid-sentence when he pulled the pin on a fragmentation grenade in his hand. "Oh. Crap."
He winked. "Cover your ears."
It took him half a second to stand up and another half to lob the explosive over the turnpike's wall. It shattered in a blossoming fireball of smoke and heat and sound. Savage tore her one-track mind away from the door and snarled, launching on all-fours and bounding up the ramp like some rabid hound. Fiona didn't know they could run like that.
MacCready pushed on her back firmly. "Run, now!"
Savage was rounding the corner at the ramp's ascending end. The rapid footsteps of MacCready and Fiona racing their way to the turnpike's entrance was enough to pull her back. She howled in outrage, spinning on the tips of her talons and leaving deep grooves where they seared through pavement. Savage knew she'd been had. And she was not at all pleased with that. Incensed teeth gnashed together hard. She threw herself at them with all the speed her hardened muscles could offer.
MacCready was at the door first. He flung it open, leaping inside. Fiona pounced for the opening when something thin and slippery grabbed her ankle and jerked her back. From the corner of her eye she could see the tattered face of a ghoul submerged in the water, its lower half disconnected from some previous perilous encounter, decaying teeth crashing together and drawing nearer and nearer to her skin.
"Fiona!" MacCready was starting out of the door. Savage was getting closer. There was no time for this.
Decay was on Fiona's side. The ghoul was so rotted that, with a sharp yank of her leg, the wrist split away from the rest of its arm. Adrenaline surged her forth. Fiona practically fell through the doorway as Savage's taloned foot came crashing down to snuff whatever was left of the ghoul's life. Her milky white orb appeared before the door, drawing her arm back to thrust it inside and claim one of them with a fell swoop. But MacCready slammed the door quicker and mechanical locks fastened into place. Savage pounded, screamed, slashed - but the steel door did little more than give in to a slight dent.
Fiona groaned at the frail, leathery extremity still wrapped tightly about her ankle. She pried the fingers off one by one. "f*cking wretched," she hissed, kicking it off once it had been loosened enough. Coagulated blood spread across the opposing wall as the hand splattered against it. MacCready helped her to her feet, spinning her around in his hands and looking over every inch of her.
"Are you hurt?" His concern was quite a contrast to his normally gruff, snarky demeanor. Fiona wasn't sure if she should feel uncomfortable or flattered.
She pushed him away with a raised brow, smirking curiously. "All in a day's scavving, am I right?"
MacCready huffed but said no more. She was appreciative of that. It gave them both the chance to focus on their new surroundings. Fiona wrinkled her nose at the smell - a musky, mildewy aura that permeated the very depths of the buildings. The ground ahead of them was completely sopped up with water until the road ascend out of the murky pools. Still, she eyed the waters with unease. Fiona didn't notice the ghoul while running to the door. Were there more like that one, sunken beneath the muck, waiting for prey to come along for the grabbing?
MacCready appeared to read her mind. He produced a flashlight and shone it onto the ground. The only body lurking in the waters had a fist-sized head in its skull. Switching the light off to keep watchful eyes from looking their way, the mercenary scouted ahead. Fiona followed dutifully, the laser rifle at the ready. (Roshambo, she thought, would be a bad idea unless she was up close and personal.)
There were many more wrecked cars inside, claimed by age and disuse rather than nuclear bombs. A great, bright light shone in the distance. To their right was a series of doors leading to what Fiona assumed might be some maintenance rooms. She poked her head in one of them. Tiny lightbulbs descending from the ceiling illuminated the metallic halls. There had to be at least one generator floating around. A running one. Meaning they were not alone.
Then again, that part was obvious.
Something of a darker metallic make glinted at her from one of the back rooms. Squinting, Fiona realized it was a soddered iron safe. A very large safe. An old, familiar tingle of money hunger quaked in her belly. The Vault Hunter spared a glimpse at MacCready and then back down the hallway. He was stalking further into the tunnels, clueless of Fiona's stalling. He probably assumed she was behind him. So he won't notice if I just take a quick peek ...
Fiona crouched low to the ground and slunk forward the way a well-trained thief would, shooting looks this way and that to confirm she was indeed alone. Old habits really did die hard. Only when she could place her dainty hand atop the safe did she stop. Armed with a bobby pin and a screwdriver, she went quickly to work.
But when an explosion in the distance and the rat-tat-tat of rapid gunfire engulfed the turnpike in a din of battle, Fiona jumped hard enough to snap the bobby pin off. She whirled, leaping to her feet in a blind rush of oh sh*t, oh sh*t, MacCready!
She didn't notice the tall figure in front of her until she lifted her head, and by that time she was too late to do anything about the solid metal object smashing her skull. Fiona heard the crack, saw the burst of light and felt the incredible pain.
And then nothing.
_______________
Garbled words and underwater noises filled her head. Fiona could make out some strings of sentences but they were lost to the mix of white noise and the ringing in her ears. Searing pain throbbed inside her skull.
" - you see who the f*ck that wa - "
" - the f*ck did he come fro - "
Fiona was aware of movement - the sensation of being dragged from her feet while her head straggled listlessly behind. Every time they came across a bump, her brain would scream in agony. "Son of a ... ," she grumbled. Or she thought she did. Her mouth moved but Fiona wasn't sure if the words actually came out.
"f*ckin' Robert Joseph MacCready," snapped the closest man to her. The words were coming in clear now. She attempted to open an eye and was greeted with stars. "First he and that bitch kill Winlock and Barnes and now this ... I thought he wanted to keep his distance from us."
"In fairness, Vic, we haven't bumped into him for several years now," came another man's voice. This one was deeper and penetrated the tunnel behind her. "It probably has to do with the Deathclaw. Sir, we could always leave the egg and take off - "
The man grabbing Fiona's feet dropped them suddenly to reel back and slug the other man in the face, dropping him like a sack of rocks. Vic returned to his position, spitting venom as he did so. Fiona dared to try looking again and this time saw the darkened figure of a man in his mid-thirties. He was definitely rough around the edges. His black vest was torn and muddy, exhibiting the same insignia that had marred the corpse back at Fluffy's cave. Rugged, dirty blue jeans were ripped in some very unusual places. She could only see the back of his head - a mass of greasy, unruly black hair and a thick beard that flayed out at the hinge of his jaw.
"Don't f*cking talk like that. Would you rather face him instead?" Vic was rewarded with silence. Fiona heard the other man rise to his feet, coughing but speaking no more. The lead Gunner smirked. "That's what I thought. MacCready is a mean asshole, but he's just a man. Besides, we got us a bargaining chip." Vic stopped again, but this time in front of a locked door. A humming computer monitor stood alongside it. "Goddamnit - forgot the f*ckin' password. Pryce!"
Pryce, as his name was designated, stepped around Fiona's half-conscious body. He was covering his nose, blood dripping out from under his massive palm. A man of darker complexion, Pryce wielded uncharacteristically light hair - blonde. He stood a good foot shorter than Vic and bore several scars on his arms and legs. Fiona had to wonder if he received those from a monster or from the treatment of his 'partner-in-crime'. A sawed-off shotgun was slung across his shoulder.
Pryce was typing away at the computer. Christ, is everybody here a techie? Several beeps later, the locked door swung open of its own accord. Pryce walked back to his post silently and Fiona noticed something very bulky and out-of-place on his left wrist. She couldn't tell if it was a piece of armor or not, but it looked like it had a screen -
"Well, lookit who's awake."
"f*ck," she growled. She must have been moving a lot and didn't notice. Fiona glared at Vic, then made a face of disgust as he slowly licked his lips in hungry anticipation.
"We'll be doin' that plenty later, kitten." His lips spread wide and Fiona was able to get a good, hard look at several rotten teeth.
Lingering on the precipice between fear and outrage, Fiona ripped one of her legs away and went to kick for his neck. Vic's thick arm blocked it. He grabbed her foot and twisted hard until Fiona felt a bone in her ankle pop and she screamed at the excruciating pain. A haze of red agony slipped over her eyes as she struggled to grab at the laser rifle or reveal Roshambo or something, which would have been fantastic if her hands hadn't been tied behind her back.
Fiona knew she was in no position to make threats, but she couldn't help herself. "Can't wait to see you get a bullet in your head, scumbag!"
"That so?" Vic's laugh was chilling. He grabbed the front of her shirt and lifted Fiona off of the ground effortlessly, drawing her so close to his face that Fiona could smell stale cigarettes and whisky. "RJ ain't gonna last long out there, and you ain't gonna get away. What say you rephrase your statement?"
She spat in his face.
"Man, have you got anger issues," she remembered Rhys saying to her when they were still in the Vault. Fiona had to admit he was goddamned right. She also had to admit that she wasn't sure if it was worth it or not, because Vic tossed her roughly into the newly-unlocked room and kicked her hard in the ribs. A holler wanted desperately to breach her mouth but she clamped down on it hard, gritting her teeth and glowering instead.
Vic waggled his finger, tsk-ing. "Man, you're gonna be fun. But you better wise up. Ya don't wanna end up like poochie, do ya?"
Poochie? Fiona looked confused until she followed Vic's outstretched finger to a chain pinned into the wall. And on the other end of that chain was a dog. According to its fur - or what was left of its fur - it was a German Shepherd. It lay almost lifelessly, weak and wheezing and grossly emaciated. Sad brown eyes roved the room. Multiple slashes were embedded in its haggard flesh, all in different stages of healing.
Fiona felt her heart break. "What the f*ck is wrong with you?"
Pryce stepped around Vic, sighing, and slipped further back into the area. They were in some kind of generator room. A large machine was whirring gently on the wall beyond them. That was where Pryce went to sit, nursing his broken nose. Vic, on the other hand ... he stepped closer to Fiona's face. His foot came to a rest on her neck.
"You're gonna stop spittin' sh*t, oka - "
The red, spurting hole opening in his forehead halted all words and Vic fell over with wide, surprised eyes. Standing at the doorway was MacCready, his sniper rifle held firm against his shoulder.
"You left the door open, dumbass."
Fiona wished she could wipe Vic's blood off of her face. Again, tied hands. "You're late."
"Oh I'm sorry," countered MacCready, dipping to the side and piercing a fleeing Pryce's leg with a .50 caliber bullet. The Gunner collapsed, screaming. "But the turret and Gunner chick wanted to keep me for tea and crumpets and I just couldn't refuse."
Despite the crippling pain in her side and the deeper throbbing in her broken ankle, Fiona couldn't help but grin at his acrid sarcasm. "Hurry up and undo this rope, I wanna help this dog."
"Dog?" MacCready looked up, his eyes setting on the mutt in question. His face fell and the German Shepherd lifted his (or her?) head up as much as it could manage, letting out a pained whimper and wagging its tail. "Dogmeat ... ?"
"Please tell me you don't plan on eating him." Fiona pulled her hands free as soon as MacCready slipped through them with a knife. She rolled to her knees, instantly regretting the action and groaning. "Damn ankle ... "
"It's his name. And you're hurt." It was a statement, not a question. MacCready's sniper rifle hung limply in his hands. He looked torn about who to care for first, looking to her, then to Dogmeat. Fiona waved him off, unable to bear the very sad look in his blue orbs and definitely unable to bear the cries of a horribly mistreated dog.
"I'll be fine."
Fiona saw movement. Pryce was turning his shotgun on MacCready. Her own reflexes surprised her as she released Roshambo and fired an electric shot at the leg that hadn't already been crippled. The Gunner dropped his weapon and twitched violently on the ground.
MacCready slipped the chain collar off from around the dog's neck and held his muzzle close to his face. Dogmeat showed its good graces with several licks. Such compassion despite its obvious misery surprised Fiona. Was the mutt acquainted with him? "Oh god, Dogmeat, what have they done to you?" She could hear depression in MacCready's voice. Was he on the verge of tears? Fiona couldn't blame him. Suddenly his disposition transformed into one of malevolence. It became so dark-hued that Fiona shuddered. "Fiona, could you Stimpack her?"
"Do dogs get the same dose?" she asked him, rummaging through the pack he dropped on the floor and pulling out a very large needle.
"Yes." He was up and striding to where Pryce was crumpled.
Fiona crawled her way to Dogmeat and stroked her fur. It was so gnarled and matted with blood and knots that, despite her sympathy for the creature, she couldn't help but feel a little grossed out. But then she rested her muzzle on Fiona's lap and panted and the Vault Hunter's heart warmed considerably. "Alright pooch, here comes a shot." She cringed as the needle popped through skin and muscle. Fiona pressed down on the plunger, tossing the now vacant syringe to the side. She had to admit, the medicine on Earth was pretty impressive. Not only did they drag Rhys back from death, but here she was watching the more minor wounds Dogmeat bore sealing themselves together. The German Shepherd definitely appeared to relax a bit. Were stimpacks laced with pain relievers as well?
Flying on auto-pilot, Fiona scoured the pack for food. Dogmeat had to be starving.
But then the merc was talking and she looked his way. "How dare you hurt Dogmeat and - " MacCready's fierce growl paused only long enough for his glare to drift downwards. He had seen the same strange, bulky item on Pryce's wrist that Fiona noticed earlier. While she couldn't tell his expression with his back to her, it wasn't difficult to discern the quivering rage clawing and snarling at the cage of his own will. MacCready practically dove for Pryce, hauling him onto gunshot-riddled legs with one hand as the Gunner screamed with tears flowing down his cheeks. "Where did you get that?"
"Please, man," Pryce pleaded. "I don't know wha - "
"The Pip-Boy, you dumb sh*t! Where the f*ck is she?" It was the first time Fiona actually heard MacCready use stronger curse words. Her ears were actually ringing. "What have you done to her?"
Fiona watched MacCready brandish his combat knife and decided now would be a good time to focus on finding Dogmeat some grub to chow down on. She found a roasted lizard on a stick and, as disgusting as it looked, it actually smelled fairly delicious. Dogmeat sniffed the air excitedly, so Fiona pulled one but of flesh off at a time to feed her. It certainly distracted her from the squelch of MacCready's dagger plowing into the meat between Pryce's ribs, although it didn't block out the ensuing scream.
"AH sh*t, I don't know - GODDAMNIT!"
"Start speaking you piece of sh*t, or I start twisting!"
"It was here before!"
"What do you mean?!"
"Some Children of Atom crazies were here before us - AUGH, stop it! I'm telling the truth?"
Fiona focused on stroking Dogmeat's muzzle. She couldn't handle more than a few bites of food - her stomach must have shrank from the lack of it. The Vault Hunter watched MacCready through the corners of her eyes but was careful not to look too closely. It was kind of badass, watching him interrogate Pryce like that. But she felt kind of bad for the Gunner. Kind of.
"And what happened to them?"
"sh*t man, what do ya think?" Rip! "SON OF A f*ck, we killed 'em a'ight? They were f*ckin' fanatics! Charged us the second we got here! One of 'em was carrying the Pip-Boy! The dog was here already! They were takin' good care of her, but Vic recognized her! He's the one who did it, not me!"
MacCready said nothing for a good long while. He just breathed heavily. Fiona watched Pryce's expression slowly go more relaxed. He probably thought he was off the hook - a hypothesis proven incorrect as MacCready's combat knife cleaved through his throat. He released the Gunner who groveled on the floor, struggling to stem the bright, spurting blood and losing.
"RJ, huh?" Fiona queried as MacCready joined her on the ground. He slipped the combat knife into its hilt after wiping the crimson off onto his coat.
"Yeah. Robert Joseph." He was distant. Those eyes were somewhere far away despite the mournful stare he laid upon Dogmeat.
"I thought your name was just MacCready. You know, like how Rambo is just Rambo." That got him a little. He smirked and Fiona beamed at her little victory. The silence that settled between them was a little less uncomfortable now. MacCready rolled the 'Pip-Boy' between his hands, having ripped it from Pryce's still-cooling corpse. At his engrossed investigation of the object, Fiona decided to break the quietness. "I won't pretend to know what a Pip-Boy is, but why is it so important? Who did it belong to? Who did Dogmeat belong to?"
Of all the strange answers Fiona was expecting to hear, MacCready had to utter the one she wasn't totally prepared for.
"Nora."
