H3-27 was my first introduction to a runaway Gen 3 Institute Synth. He had escaped the Institute with nothing more than the jumpsuit on his body and a message to go to Bunker Hill. How he had escaped had been wiped from his memory in order to keep the secret from being discovered by the Institute. I instantly felt a surge of compassion and affinity for this poor person, lost and alone in the Commonwealth. He had the added difficulty of being hunted by a superior organization, a problem I fortunately had yet to have. Figuring this was probably the best stroke of luck we could have encountered, next to dispatching the Courser of course, I sent an intentionally cryptic message, Deacon will love this, through the RRoad channel letting them know we were headed their way with our charge.
Convincing MacCready to help get a babe-in-the-woods Synth wearing an outfit guaranteed to draw attention all the way to Bunker Hill was a different story. He showed me where it was on my map, pointing out that we'd have to traverse some of the most dangerous areas in Boston to get there. "You've got to be fuc- err, freaking kidding me, right?" he moaned dramatically, gesturing in real anger when I proposed escorting H3-27 ourselves. The subject of our discussion was sitting a short ways away, out of earshot, staring up at the ruined buildings in awed wonder.
"He needs help, MacCready, just like I did when you agreed to be my bodyguard. He'll never make it alone." I could tell my appeal was going to be less than successful when the emotional shield snapped up, hooding his expression.
"I was paid to guard you, and paid pretty damn well for the initial contract. You were wearing reasonable clothing to blend in, I was able to get you a weapon that you could use, and we weren't stuck in the middle of a hostile area when I took the job!" His voice was quiet, but snarlingly intense, crisply snapping off every word. We glared at each other, our base natures at complete odds for the first time since we met. "Your crazy altruistic drive to save every last pitiful sap in the Wasteland is going to get us both killed!"
"He's not just any 'sap,' you know," I hissed, furious. "He's an escaped Synth from the Institute. You know, the guys we've been trying to track down for information? Information that is my best chance of getting home?"
Cold blue eyes bored into mine. "Information you need from a Courser, not a mind-blanked escapee. Information that's worse than useless if you're dead. You thought the hospital Rhys sent us to was bad? Boston proper is practically a suicide trek if you're not completely at the top of your game and on constant guard. Trying to save this one Synth is not worth getting us killed!" He gritted his teeth. "Look, Boss, I'm here to protect you. I'm telling you right now that it's too dangerous for us to get to Bunker Hill from here with him tagging along."
"So we go carefully. You're the best gun in the Commonwealth. With our help, I'm sure H3 will be..."
"No, Boss."
"Fine," I snapped, reluctantly giving in. If he's that certain, I need to trust him. "But I hope you realize he's probably going to follow us anyway. And since the Institute is already hunting him down, we'll have to deal with that too. Whatever we do, we have to get him out of here. We can't just leave him, it would be tantamount to murder." I turned to face him, standing a few feet away. "Of course, you could make it quick and kill him in cold blood right now, just for being here, for wanting to live his own life." I didn't have to elucidate how such an action would ruin our partnership, our relationship, forever. God, I need to get home.
MacCready groaned, slumping his shoulders and lowering himself into a defeated crouch, his sniper rifle clutched in front of him. "Damn it." A sharp whack echoed from the stone walls around us as he pounded the butt of the gun against the ground in an excess of emotion. "How do you do it, Boss?" he asked, voice cracking, suddenly sounding very young and unsure. "How do you make me see things from that point of view? I- I never would have bothered before."
Slowly, I stepped around to kneel behind his slumped form, reaching out to gently rub his trembling shoulders. "The same way you convinced me that we need to find another way out of here. If it's the truth..." I shrugged. "We're both stubborn, but we also trust each other; balance each other out, you know? Together, we can find a solution, I think." With one final caress, I stood up, offering my hand to my partner. "Let's see what we can do."
In the end, we crafted a plan to hoodwink the Brotherhood into giving us and our escaped Synth acquaintance a ride straight to the Railroad without them realizing it. We sacrificed our spare outfits to give H3-27 something to wear that blended in with the general citizenry, stowing his jumpsuit in our packs. H3 listened intently to my quickly sketched out instructions while MacCready scouted the area for a large enough clearing to use one of our precious vertibird grenades. By the time we heard the deafening whir of blades, we were ready. MacCready and I carried our "unconscious" companion onto the craft, waving off any offers of assistance.
When directed to fly to Bunker Hill, the pilot was initially dubious until I related our completely fabricated story about a kidnapping and the grateful family awaiting the safe return of our charge. "He's sleeping off a couple of stimpaks," I explained, "wasn't in the best of shape when we found him, and the sooner we get him home, the better." I gestured to the minigun pointing out the open side door. "Take a direct route and we'll even thin out some of the menaces on the way."
For the chance to wield a powerful airborne weapon with impunity against his enemies, MacCready determinedly swallowed down his motion sickness. He cackled with fiendish glee, sweeping the minigun in deadly arcs across the pavement, leaving a wake of destruction amid Super Mutants, feral Ghouls, and raiders alike. It was watching catharsis in action, seeing my partner able to take out his adversaries with no apparent risk to himself, and I smiled slightly to myself while keeping a hand on H3-27's prone form.
"Okay, that was totally worth the nausea," MacCready whooped as we stepped away from the departing vertibird, "carrying" H3 between us. Bunker Hill's obelisk was within sight and, as soon as the aircraft was out of view, we let go of the Synth so he could walk the last distance under his own power. Following at a short distance, we entered the walled trading post that had sprung up around the obelisk.
H3-27 stopped short as an older gentleman approached him. Speaking too low for the two of us to hear, he guided the awestruck runaway Synth behind one of the trade counters in the corner, nodding to us in thanks. I paused to give my partner a glad smile. "See?" I asked him, surreptitiously catching his fingers in my own to give a quick one-handed squeeze, "Didn't that feel good? Helping someone who needed it?"
He shrugged one shoulder, muttering halfheartedly while staring at the ground, "I guess so. As long as you're happy, that's good enough for me." Looking up, the corner of his mouth lifted in a wry smile as he continued, "It would have been better if we got some caps out of it."
Before I could point to our bulging packs in response, Deacon spoke up from behind us, his lilting tenor as amused as ever. "I dunno, merc, you did a favor for us, and sometimes the goodwill is even better than caps!"
"Hello, Deacon." I spoke over MacCready's disgruntled snort.
"Heya lady-from-another-world," he grinned, stepping closer and lowering his voice. "Got your message. Nice work bringing him here. I especially love how you wrangled the Brotherhood of Steel to give you a ride all unknowing they're helping the Railroad rescue a Synth. That'll be one in their eye if they ever figure it out."
"Let's hope they never do," I said solemnly. "I need to stay on their good side too, Deacon."
He flapped his hands dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don't worry, it's not like I have Elder Maxson over for coffee or anything. Though I do hear they have some fantastic rations on that ship of theirs." To MacCready's consternation, he drew us aside, placing his arms around our shoulders in a conspiratorial manner. "Look, I need to debrief our newest rescue before we smuggle him out of the Commonwealth. Tom sent me with a list of questions on top of the normal interview. Take your sweet time, but make your way back to HQ so we can catch up with the latest intel on your little forearm computer friend there, okay? I'll let Dez know you guys are coming along... eventually."
"Got it. We can do some trading while we're here." A hearty clap on my back was all the reply Deacon gave before he slunk off to meet with H3-27.
MacCready was in his element again, haggling with the various trading stands to get the best barter from our loot. One of the traders even had a sniper rifle, which gave me an idea. I purchased it along with enough ammunition for my weapons to fill the thigh pouch. My partner raised an eyebrow when he saw the second firearm slung over my shoulder as we made our way behind the trading stands to a ramshackle outdoor bar that had rooms for rent overhead. We took our seats just as the bartender came over, which caused Mac to break out in a wide grin.
"Son-of-a... is that Joe Savoldi?" He laughed in delight. "Joe! How the heck are you?!" Does MacCready know every bartender in the Commonwealth?
"No way! MacCready?! I haven't seen you in ages." Joe gave MacCready's hand a hearty shake. "You still riding shotgun for the caravans?"
"Nah. I quit doing that a long time ago." He shook his head, explaining, "It never paid enough, and I hated being a sitting duck." Pointing at me, he added, "I'm under contract to this lady here."
Turning, Joe gave me a measuring look and a welcoming grin. "Hope you're paying him well. He's a hell of a gun to have at your back."
"I aim to please," bragged my companion with a grin at his cleverness and a quick wink at me. I felt my cheeks heat up, causing his grin to deepen.
Grabbing us a couple of beers "first one's on the house for my old friend," he leaned in to comment conspiratorially, "Well, if she ever cuts you loose, look me up. I can fix you up with some work."
"I'll keep that in mind, Joe. Thanks." He shot me a sheepish look, but I was inwardly pleased that his reputation was good enough to have work lined up after I went home. Whenever that will be.
We sat at the bar while the light faded, drinking beer, eating some form of vaguely edible dinner, and chatting with Joe and his son Tony. Father and son had an ongoing argument about the intentions of the Institute and their Synths. Joe wanted nothing to do with either of them while Tony argued the Railroad's position of Synths-as-people. Even as close as they were to a Railroad point of contact, they were unaware of it, which spoke volumes about how good the agents could be. When asked our opinions, I remained neutral, not wishing to get dragged into what was obviously a family argument. MacCready nodded in approval at me when Joe's back was turned, also giving non-committal answers when pressed.
It soon became obvious that we weren't leaving that night, and Joe suggested, "If you need a place to stay, talk to my boy. The rooms aren't much, but it's somewhere to lay your head."
The accommodations were indeed not much more than a mattress surrounded by four walls, and we were fortunate that the weather wasn't as frigid as it had been. It was still necessary to cuddle together, not that I was complaining. MacCready was much more demonstrably affectionate once the door had closed, shutting out the rest of the world.
"So," he mumbled, nuzzling my shoulder as we relaxed on the mattress. "Want to tell me about your newest purchase there?"
"The sniper?" He nodded. I squirmed a little in hesitation before replying. "I was thinking, since we're supposed to take our time getting back to the Railroad, maybe we could use the opportunity to..." I felt my cheeks heat up, not quite sure how to proceed with asking him to help me do something so generally out of character for me.
"To?" His eyes gleamed devilishly as he teased his hand along my side, pulling a giggle from me.
"Don't distract me, RJ." I managed between giggles. Grabbing his hand to make him behave, I gave him a quick kiss on his grinning lips before continuing. "To clear out the area between here and the Old North Church of... violent opposition?" His muscles tensed in surprise.
"Hmmm..." he murmured, growing still as he pondered the idea.
"In other words, would you teach me how to use that sniper rifle?" Snuggling closer to his body, I ran massaging hands down his shoulders and spine to his obvious pleasure. "Please? After all, you're the one who said it's smarter to hit your targets from long range..."
"So I did," he said, arching into my caress. He chuckled a low rumble, nipping my earlobe. "It's not fair, angel, asking me anything while you're doing this." A groan left his lips as I reached lower, grabbing the curve of his throat gently in my teeth as I did so. "Of course I'll... hnnrrr... teach you. Everything I know."
Nothing else needed to be said.