Chapter Text
They always told him that Hell was not below us, it was above us. Even before Father had died and Mother claim his position of leadership by decree, the surface was a place so vile and unkempt that only the wicked and depraved resided there. Only those who were just as vile and depraved would willingly forfeit the safety and luxury of the Institute for such a place. The Desolate, The Bleak, The Commonwealth, where mankind turned its teeth against one another and became damned. He was told all of this just days before his surfacing, but now Shaun could feel the weight of reality and the realization that there was no exaggeration in their words.
Hell truly was other people. A quote from something he couldn’t remember, but inevitably crossed his mind the first time he was bitten by the starved. Among the malnourished and emancipated, his well fed and well cared for body had shone like a blessing for the long awaited hungry. He quickly learned that he was an easily sought after food item, something he had never considered a living person to ever be.
Since then he had taken more precautions. Directly interacting with the sparse inhabitants of the commonwealth was too dangerous, one would have to carefully ascertain who would be willing to let the next living creature they encountered walk past them without fight. Perhaps it was for the best that not too many people knew of his being there. Shaun knew that X6 was bound to be on his case, and leaving a noticeable trail for him to follow would make his recapture far too easy.
Pity can be described as a scornful branch of human compassion and sympathy, and despite the legit suffering the people of the commonwealth faced, it was hard to view them in any other light. Pain had broken them, blanketed them, cracked them into pieces so sharp and jagged that it turned lethal. The sunken in hollowed cheeks and glossed over, pleading, undoubtably human eyes hurt just as much as their teeth and overgrown nails.
Pity was easy to feel when he saw them eat each other. He had camped with the rafters of what was probably once a house. It had been abandoned long before the hunger, and was abandoned once again by whatever drifter that briefly taken up residence within it. He was hiding, being smart in making sure that at any point were he would be vulnerable, he would be tucked away into a place unnoticed and untouched.
At least, he had assumed that the area was uninhabited.
Mumbling voices and shuffling bare feet across pavement, so quiet and delicate, had his heart racing and his body alert at once. Shaun was smart, healthy, was given training and tutelage under the best the institute had to offer, and yet the thought of being discovered shook him to the core and he wordlessly pleaded to avoid any kind of physical confrontation with whatever was outside.
A loud metal pang finally drew him out of his pleadings. Through one of many slivers and gaps that ate into the rotted wood of the roof, he observed the growing commotion going on below him. A group of people, haggard, lurching, wrapped in soiled cloth and bandages, were circling a section of road maybe a few yards away from his hiding spot.
Shaun had heard about the Brotherhood of Steel from X6, though the explanation was dry. A growing paramilitary state that sought to destroy everything the institute stood for. An obstacle that stood in the way of the only salvation for the future of mankind, filled to burst with hypocritical greed and wrath. The bad guys that were swiftly and justly defeated. That was what he was told, shaved of humanity and complicated details and the reality of how far the institute would go to punish those that it did not agree with simply for existing, direct opposition be damned.
Whatever the institute had done to the Brotherhood must have been astronomical if the giant crater left behind in the pavement was any indication. Cradled within heaps of twisted, blackened metal that perhaps may of once been a car lay a suit of T-60 power armor, stiff and warped, face down at the bottom of the pit.
From what little he understood about the Brotherhood, he was under the assumption that they valued pre-war technology almost as much as they valued power and control, so to leave behind something of such capabilities for the scavengers to pick at could only indicate the desperation in escaping forces that even they were outmatched against.
Would these people in rags even know how to wield the mechanism properly? The institute didn’t posses any within their armory, they had to no need for it. Coursers were taught how to seize and quickly learn how to utilize any oppositions weaponry or defense against them, but Shaun doubted even he could effectively do more than simply wear the suit as a glorified piece of protective wear. Still, even without being able to utilize whatever additional functions the suit provided, the added security would be appealing, if not drastically provocative. Perhaps that’s why these scavengers seemed so persistent in obtaining it. A loud declaration of defensiveness and impenetrability that would separate their group from a potential attack. A threat.
Though Shauns suspicions that anyone outside of the Institute (and perhaps by extension the Brotherhood) could not comprehend how to handle advanced technologies was proving accurate considering how aggressively these people were attempting to dislodged the suit from its metal encasings. Armed with long slivers of scrap metal and rocks and a single, intact crowbar, the people were barbarically attacking the securing latches and flexible polyethylene joints along the back. It was saddening to watch. Didn’t they know they were damaging the armor with their incessant prying along the opening hatch? Why didn’t they just turn the valve and open it normally?
One of them was keeping watch, twitchy and panicked as if he was expecting to be caught at any moment. Shaun watched him for a bit. He was scrawny and dirty like everyone on the surface was now, and he carried a pathetic thing of piping and scrap that constituted as a functioning fire arm in one, very noticeably bitten into hand. Despite acute vigilance and an apparent quick hostility, he didn’t immediately shoot the man who stumbled out of the adjacent house to his left, which was surprising until he saw him exchange his gun to the stranger and enter the house himself.
A watch rotation? Ok, perhaps he wasn’t giving the commonwealth settlers enough credit in their organizations, yet even with a consistent eye none of them had discovered his frankly far to close for comfort presence above them. Or maybe it was the case that they were merely on guard for outward physical attack and glossing over any apparent voyeurs that didn’t do anything other than watch as it couldn’t be avoided. Shaun had certainly felt as those a consistent gaze was fixated on him ever since he had surfaced, even when he was completely alone. Perhaps the commonwealth was just like that.
Observing the house the settler had entered he could keenly see through his vantage point into a room that contained a few piles of cloth and collected garbage that looked very recently lived in. He chilled at the revelation that this particular group had been camped here for some time, undoubtedly to target the power armor, and he had blindly set up shop directly above them like a fool. If they were here to stay, he would need to figure plausible escape routes post haste. He was already calculating how much of his weight he could safely distribute among the rotten wood of his current hiding place without arousing suspicion when a sickening, teeth-grinding screech of tearing metal brought all attention back to the pit.
The atmosphere was immediately electrified, flavored with the sweetness of endorphins and the sharp bite of adrenaline. The back securing panel of the power armor had popped, breaking the seal. A building excitement was reaching a peak as the group clamored haphazardly into the wreckage of sharp metals, not caring when the debris cut into the thinning, worn flesh of their soles. The one with the crowbar was excitedly wedging the husk of iron to open to its entirety, the growing temptation of reward giving his weakened, frail body the push it didn’t have anymore. Another with a length of pipe joined his position, and all stood with rapt attention and joyous splendor as the back was finally breached.
And the horror contained within was finally exposed.
And Shaun realized that they didn’t want the power armor. They wanted what was inside of it.
An object of desire what had remained dormant and still for so long, an unearthed treasure, an untapped oasis hidden within a world ravaged by teeth and claws and tongues and empty stomachs. A brotherhood soldier that could not escape the commonwealth, could not escape from the wrath and power of the Institute.
Who could not even escape his own armor.
A single glimpse of blacked, flaked crust that was once human skin over top a seared slab of marbled flesh and fat was mercifully all that he could see of the fate of this poor paladin, for the hungry masses dug their fingers into him with newfound vigor and devoured.
Gaping maws, shiny and slathered with grease and bits of charred skin, were finally smiling. An indescribably, distinctly human shine returned to their eyes, the glossed over and empty visage gone if for the briefest of moments. There was a recognition visible among all of them, that they should savor this, ration this, make wise with the little they had been blessed with for they might not have this again. But they were lost in the taste of meat in their mouths and the feeling of a growing fullness in their shrunken bellies.
From his hiding place mere feet away, Shaun watched in disgust. He was disgusted by how he can see bits of meat caught in between gaps of rotted, yellow teeth that he knew would be dug out later with fingernails and savored like a delicacy. He was disgusted with the way their hands gleaned, and tore and grabbed and brought eagerly to awaiting open mouths. And he was disgusted by the smell of flashed cooked human flesh, pungent and raw, and how it wasn’t terrible to him.
That was Shauns first encountering with the remnants of the Brotherhood of Steel, and what their visage now inspired in the inhabitants of the commonwealth. A dismantled empire ripped limb from bloody limb, and whose remains were sought after food sources and scavenging material. In the eyes of a settler, a suit of power armor was a potentially unopened can of goods ripe for the taking. He knew to avoid anything that held its likeness, both out of repulsion and the fear that some other traveling herd may seek to claim it for themselves whatever means necessary.
Which is why when he saw another suit of power armor, he only gave it and its surroundings a passing, fearful glance before leaving it. The thing looked like beacon of bad luck, or perhaps more accurately a trap. Unlike the previous model he had seen which lay pathetically nestled within a crater as if flung by tremendous force, this one stood upright upon uncrushed pavement. The body stood stiff and rigid, with the telltale scorch marches and melted grooves of whatever inflicted punishment had turned it into an inescapable human oven. Though the most disturbing feature was only noticeable after Shaun had rounded the square and glanced back to view it from the front, just for a moment out of curiosity.
‘PLEASE HELP’ was written across the breast plate in sloppy, yet discernible lettering, as if written blindly and with purpose. A first aid box was crudely strung up on a support handle to the right, noticeable unmarked by heat and flame.
Shaun left the vicinity as quickly as silence would allow.
He hoped his trail would not be too noticeable to calculate where he was going. If X6 was always going to be a few steps behind him, so be it. He couldn’t say he wasn’t expecting that move, there were some inevitabilities that had to be considered and abilities that had to be counteracted, but he couldn’t afford for X6 to predict exactly who he was trying to find and risk letting him get there first. He had hoped taking the long route and not traveling in a linear fashion would help prevent suspicion, but he couldn’t deny that he was woefully unprepared to deal with the consequences of an undeniably long and tortuous journey.
Routine can be noted, observed and rationalized. Impulsiveness has harder to pinpoint, which is why Shaun frequently (yet with great methodically thought out precision) journeyed away from his destination, in circles, and back tracked through previous locations. Anything to hopefully distract the relentless courser from bypassing his route.
Looping around an empty neighborhood block, he was pleased to note that he had successfully evaded X6 for another day, as he was no where to be seen. Yet he was greatly disturbed to find that the power armor standing in the road previously was nowhere to be seen either.
He had to assure himself that he wasn’t mistaken. He knew his surroundings, how to navigate, had a reliable and sharp memory that had never failed him all his life. He was unshakably certain that the thing had been fixated right there, but it was undeniably, unfathomably gone now. It didn’t make sense. A set of power armor could weigh more than a ton depending on the model and its physical condition, there is no way that a pack of hungry crazed settlers could have carted the thing off in record time. Why would they even bother to move it? The last camp merely pried it open like a can of cram and ate it viscously out in the open. Where did this thing fucking go?!
A tremor shot through his body as he darted through an alley. He doubted that X6 could have procured the suit for himself, he wouldn’t need it, but if there was any indication that he was currently in danger then this was it. Any time something became suspicious, questionable, or improbable, it was best to vacant as far and as quickly as possible. Heading North, there was only a block left for this neighborhood, if he could avoid any obvious ambush vantage points he could head deeper into the city and lose X6 among the wreckage.
Peering around the corner of a crumbling concrete wall, the street appeared to be clear of any living thing, hostile or otherwise. He had a clear shot of making a break towards the diner and heading into the ruins, he just had to be qui-
“ Halt, Civilian! ”
A command, loud and authoritative stopped Shaun dead in his tracks. The voice, though confidently commandeering and undoubtedly directed at him, did not belong to X6-88. It was far too viscous and raw, almost inhumanly concentrated as if forced through a punctured throat. Shaun braced his body in a conventional fight or flight ready position, actively preparing for the worse as he turned to address the figure looming behind him.
It was the suit. Stiff and rigid, almost corpse-like, it stood across the street in an opposite alley facing him, a single arm firmly holding open the lid of a dumpster it had previously been looting through.
‘ No...not “it”, “ HE ”, there’s....there’s still a person alive inside of that thing!’
His skin crawled as if at any moment it would tear itself from his body and writhe vehemently on the ground in agony. Flashes of raw horror and sympathy and disgust and terror hit him with such force he thought his muscles would collapse from the strain. There was something so abjectly wrong in what he was seeing, what reality this... person in front of him insinuated with his continued existence. He knew the human body can withstand tremendous trauma under different circumstances, but this is borderline unimaginable. Shaun was so struck with the encounter with this...man...that he hardly comprehended that he was being addressed formally, until he spoke again.
“This area is still under command by the Brotherhood of Steel, do you have authorization to scavenge here?”
The question stole the breath from his lungs, and it sounded like it did the same for the soldier. That voice.....it was so wet and slurred, like he was choking consistently, like every word spoken was a struggle to procure. That voice gripped him from the inside of his throat and squeezed, laid heavy in the conjuncture of his windpipe and esophagus and kept him anchored to the spot while this man awaited an answer with seemingly growing impatience.
“I...” he didn’t know how to begin explaining himself to this person. He never had to before, never expected to encounter someone like this. “I’ve never traveled out this far before. I didn’t know the brotherhood was still authorized here....sir.”
The formal address was quickly followed as an afterthought. As a child, Shaun was expected to address each of his elders and persons of higher positions with polite formalities from earned superiority. He had learned early on that addressing someone by title might not earn you their favor, but not doing so would certain earn you their ire. Hopefully the recognition of authority coupled with honest confusion would make his being there less of a punishable offensive.
“The Brotherhood still has recognized authority over this region.”
‘Does it?’ Shaun thought to himself. The Brotherhood was taken out some time ago and this was the first still living member he encountered. Where there still living troops commanding regions of the commonwealth that he was unaware of? He hadn’t been on the surface for long, but surely the presence of an organized military would be more noticeable.
“If you’re looking for rations, we don’t have anymore at the moment. I’m sorry, but you’ll have to wait for a shipment.”
The lid of the dumpster slowly creaked downwards in the paladins grip until he unceremoniously let it drop with a heavy thunk. He was still staring with an unnerving countenance that Shaun couldn’t quite place, but he didn’t appear to be attempting to threaten him. His tone was firm, but not aggressive, and he wasn’t making any attempt to attack him either.
“Oh, I understand,” Shaun responded. Be complacent, be agreeable, and don’t invite hostility into unknown enemies and questionable people. So long as he didn’t want to fight and would willingly let him walk away from this encounter, Shaun didn’t see a reason to respond rudely to him. “I’ll try to find supplies farther north and let everyone know about the current shortage. Thank you, Sir.”
Shaun tried to end the conversation there on a good note and walk away.
“Wait, you’re not going off by yourself are you? Where’s the rest of your companions?” The paladin cut him off midstep.
It was better lie that you were in a group than admit you were alone. That was a rule of thumb that existed well before the world was reduced to humming radiation and crumbling piles of ash and soot. The more you had, the less likely a target you became. But it was obvious he was a lone traveler, if not by his meager possessions then by the significant absence of any other living person in the general vicinity. What would he do if he was caught in such an obvious lie? The paladin didn’t appear to have a weapon on him, but everything on the surface should be considered a potential threat no matter what. Then again, this was the only person who did not appear immediately hostile upon encounter, and seemed to possess both rationality and potential. He could be a valuable source of information and possible protection if his command was any indication of security and power.
“Um, well yeah actually I’m traveling alone. I don’t have anyone else,” better to be honest without letting slip too many details. There was still distance between them and no visible firearm, if he didn’t like where this conversation was going then he could still make a break for the city fairly easily.
The paladin took a few steps forward, Shaun did not want to entertain the thought of what sort of physical strain it took on his already damaged body to move that thing around. He especially did not want him to move closer to him and jeopardize his potential escape route and he had to suppress a grimace.
“How old are you kid?” The man croaked from a now considerably closer distance, his question holding a tone of honest inquiry rather than blunt questioning.
Was it better to be honest or to lie?
“I’m eighteen, sir.” Might as well stick to honesty and see where this goes.
The paladin made a noise that could have been described as a sigh, if a little too wet sounding.
“You’re too young to be on your own like this, it’s not safe for a kid to be alone in the wastes.” This was said matter-of-factly, and almost a little tired. Not quite reprimanding, but something more akin to pity? Now there’s something ironic.
“I know,” Shaun told him. “But I don’t have anyone right now.”
“That’s ok, kid,” The Paladins voice, though still hoarse and raw, sounded slightly softer. “You don’t have to tell me about it. Let’s get you properly set up at base and we’ll go from there.”
This was it. This was the decision Shaun was uncertain in decided in. To put trust in and go with this stranger undoubtably torn apart by a world that got worse every minute you were still alive in it. What separated this man from the one that had bit him upon meeting him? That he had shown restraint? That he had no true intention of harming him? Was he just looking to establish a false sense of security to more easily ensnare his target, or were there still people that believed in doing good for the betterment of those around them? If Shaun wanted to undo the damaged his mother had done he would need help, he would need influence, and the brotherhood had once held that influence and tried to do what he had done.
“How do I know I can trust you?” A question more often answered dishonestly than truthfully, but the unspoken declaration of ‘I Don’t Trust You Yet’ was important to establish still.
The paladin attempted to raise a fist to his chest but his arm could not bend properly to reach it, yet the attempt was still a recognized gesture of honesty.
“I took an oath, both formally as a soldier and personally as a man, to do everything in my ability to ensure the safety and well being of mankind. I swear on my very life to do right by you and the people of the commonwealth. This I promise to you.”
His poor, raw vocal cords strained under each syllable spoken, but he still delivered each word with formal stability and passion as if his honor depended on it. Softened and muffled by the static from his helmets mic, his tone was even and his words honest. From this close Shaun could hear reach wheezing breath that rattled his chest and various little clicks and whirls from the intricate internal mechanisms that struggled to keep him alive.
“Ok,” Shaun decided then, “let’s get going.”