Fallout 4: AR

74. ...Contact with the Enemy

Glory stayed by the secured motel entrance while Deacon and I made our way towards the bottom of the ridge to meet MacCready. "We heard the firefight and decided to join in the fun!" he lilted, pretending to fire a rocket launcher. "No? All right. You think you're the only two running rescue missions?" He gestured to the motel, "Those assholes grabbed one of our escaped Synths before she could get out of the Commonwealth. We're here to get her back." He glanced up at my partner, who was still clambering down the side of the ridge. "I'm going to hope that you're here for a similar reason?"

I nodded. "Hancock was a bit more specific, but yes. We're to eliminate the slavers and free everyone inside. With four of us, we'll have a better chance."

MacCready had reached the ground by this point, striding angrily towards us. "You okay, Boss?" he asked in a clipped voice. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" I stepped between the two men, facing my furious partner. Mac reached out to pull me into a hug, his whole body tense. "If he so much as put a scratch on you," he murmured very quietly, but intensely, in my ear, "I'll kill him."

"I'm fine." I assured him, reaching up to caress his cheek with my thumb. "He only tackled me to save Glory. I was about to shoot her." MacCready's arms tightened around me and we pressed our foreheads together for a moment. "I know he hurt you, but please try to be the better man; keep your promise to Duncan." I could almost feel the internal struggle as he wrestled with his temper, holding me close for a long moment.

"Yeah, I'll just... admire the scenery... over this way a bit." Deacon called awkwardly, and we broke apart. "Uh, guys?" The Railroad spy was standing near the downed power armor. "You might want to take a look at this."

"What is it, Deacon?" MacCready had calmed down, but his tone was tight with irritation. He grabbed my hand and we walked over to see what had prompted the comment.

I didn't see any cause for concern, but MacCready and Deacon both looked grim. Setting aside his animosity, MacCready even helped Deacon roll the heavy exoskeleton over. "What is it?" I asked, when both men looked even more troubled. "I don't know much about power armor. MacCready?"

Deacon answered me first. "This is matching T-60 power armor." At my confused expression, he elaborated. "The Brotherhood of Steel has the lock on this design. Raiders and slavers cobble together whatever scrap pieces they can find in the greater Wasteland; not this."

MacCready nodded and crouched down to brush a film of dirt off the chestplate. In silver enamel, the sigil for the Brotherhood of Steel gleamed faintly in the sunlight. "This is not good," he grumbled.

"You said it, my eagle-eyed frie-" Deacon snapped his mouth shut when my partner shot to his feet to glare. "Uhh, acquaintance. And if the Brotherhood of Steel is involved, then Glory and I need to get the hell out of here with our rescue."

"Fine by me," my partner snapped, stalking towards the motel entrance. "Boss, let's get the last two. We can loot once the danger is past," he called over his shoulder.

Deacon sighed dramatically, muttering just loudly enough for me to hear. "And the mercenary shows his true colors again. Death, loot, caps."

I angrily shook my head at his comment and almost snarled, "There's a lot more to him than you see, Deacon." If I hadn't been so offended at the unwarranted judgment, I could have snorted at his startled expression. "Think about it for a moment: you know enough about me and my out-world humanity to have invited me to meet the Railroad and exchange favors. If MacCready really is the selfish, shallow, cap-grubbing mercenary you think he is, would I have stayed with him? Partnered up with him?" Fallen in love with him? I thought with an inward smile. "No. Maybe you should pull your head out of your own prejudices long enough to realize that there are hidden depths to his character." I started walking to catch up with MacCready, tossing one last bombshell at Deacon as I did so. "Oh, and by the way, I'm staying here. With him."

Glory and MacCready were conversing quietly between themselves when I stalked up. "What are we looking at here?" I asked in a peevish tone, still annoyed at Deacon. I like them both, but it's so difficult to be friends with people who just will not get along with each other. MacCready's eyebrows rose, and I gave him a shrug and a nod towards the spy still ostensibly examining the power armor. He rolled his eyes in a manner that said, "I told you so."

Yes love, but Deacon's still my friend.

Glory didn't seem to notice my irritation. "The door's locked. I can probably shoot it down, but I'm afraid to just in case there are victims in harm's way on the other side. A minigun's not exactly precise."

"Not to mention it would make a racket," MacCready added thoughtfully. "The two left inside obviously know we're here, but they don't know what we're doing. We don't want to encourage them to start panicking. Who knows what they'd do?" He peered around, craning his neck to examine the overhang.

"I can pick the lock," I stated, surprised I even had to remind MacCready of my Pip-Boy-enhanced skill. "That should be quiet enough."

The other two stepped back and I approached the door, pulling out the ever-useful bobby pins. I could sense Glory watching me as the familiar electronic whisper tingled along my nerves, guiding my hands. This lock was not the easiest, and it took a few minutes to tease the tumblers into submission. By then, Deacon had glided up behind me, peering intently at the operation, almost breathing down my neck in fascination. Nothing I love more than an audience, I thought a little nervously. At least Mac gives me room to work.

Finally, the last tumbler snicked into place, and I opened the lock cylinder with a sigh of relief. Glory motioned for me to step aside as she aimed her minigun at the door. Deacon moved in, turned the knob, pushed... and pushed again. He slammed his shoulder into the door, which visibly rattled from the blow, but refused to open.

"Didn't it work?" I asked, confused. Both Railroad agents appeared frustrated, and MacCready was nowhere to be seen.

"The knob turns all right," Deacon confirmed, giving the door another shove, "but there's a bar inside holding it in place!" For the first time in our acquaintance, he actually sounded angry.

Glory raised the barrel of her minigun. "I can shoot it, but..."

Before she could finish, we heard a commotion inside the motel. Deacon again tried to force the door open, and I searched around the entrance for a window, a hole, anything to see inside. The slavers had done a good job sealing the walls, however, and we were left straining our ears to try and figure out what was happening. After an agonizing few minutes, the noise subsided and we could hear the scrape and thunk of the crossbar being lifted and tossed aside. We raised our weapons as one, aiming for the doorway.

The door slowly creaked open to reveal a dirty and bloodstained MacCready, eyeing the guns pointed at him with mild distaste. "Well?" he asked in an impudent tone, "You coming in or not?"