Chapter Text
This neighborhood wasn't good. He shouldn't be here.
One: someone might recognize him. Two: someone might recognize him and try to take advantage of it. Three: he might just simply get killed out here and then someone would recognize him and try to cover their tracks up.
But he had to see him.
Arthur Maxson would never admit it but on long cold nights he would tune his battered radio to a very particular frequency and listen to the stories of a hero from the world long gone. He'd keep the volume low and his door shut; it was his guilty pleasure, his great secret. His mind would travel through time and space and follow the fabled Silver Shroud as he fought his way through pre-War Boston, righting wrongs, dispensing justice.
It was the Shroud he looked up to when he wrote and prepared his inspirational speeches. Commanding voice, powerful words, utmost conviction. It was the perfect template and it never failed him.
Carefully stashed underneath his bed were whatever issues of the comic books he could salvage. Most of them he found during his time as a squire and a knight; his duties now left almost no time for such a hobby. But he didn't need to look through the wreckage to find the Shroud - he was always there, Arthur just needed to turn the knob.
So, one night, when an excited voice interrupted the radio show, he was annoyed.
"Calling all Silver Shroud fans! I have an important announcement!"
Arthur groaned. Not right now! The Shroud was about to confront the Mechanist, the fate of humanity was at stake! He found himself wondering if his own confrontation with the Institute would be anything like it. And now he might never know what happened! It was important! He could have gotten some ideas...
"HE'S BACK! The Shroud is back on the streets and he is going to dispense some justice! Behold, Commonwealth, for the Shroud is coming!"
Arthur sat in his chair dumbfounded. The Shroud? But... He was never real to begin with, so he can't really be back? Or can he?..
Maybe the comic books were, in fact, a collection of real stories? Embellished, of course, much like his own encounter with a deathclaw, but what if they were real? He could learn so much from him.
This Shroud... he had to meet him. He had to.
Maxson kept a close ear on the radio since that whole evening. This Shroud guy wasn't joking. He was cleansing Goodneighbor, of all places. That trash heap could use someone like Shroud. He was admirable and brave. But he couldn't help but think how wasteful it was. A hero like Shroud shouldn't be dealing with those miscreants. He would be such a great asset to the Brotherhood...
But then if the Shroud wasn't dealing with those bastards, who would? Dedication was The Shroud's trademark after all. He was a hero, taking jobs big or small because it was a right thing to do.
Still, such a waste. He had to try and establish contact.
So that's how he ended up here. On the ground. In a dirty, stinking bar called the Third Rail. Alone.
Simple nondescriptive clothes, hood pulled over his head to hide his militaristic haircut, and a pair of pistols on his belt to hopefully send a message. No one paid him any attention. Probably figured he was another drifter, hiding from someone. In this place, everyone owed someone something, so they didn't pry.
"So what's your poison, kid?" A mister Handy with a British flag sticker floated closer to Arthur, his metal arms spinning nonchalantly.
"Ah, a shot of bourbon. Please."
The robot's eye stalk eyed him suspiciously, but he didn't say anything. Finally, he made some weird sound that Arthur could only interpret as 'whatever'. The Mr. Handy poured him some liquor in a grimy glass with surprising finesse.
Deciding to get this over with, Arthur downed the contents of the glass in one gulp and cringed. The alcohol wasn't even remotely decent.
"Now was there something else you need, kid?" asked the Handy in a grumpy tone as he turned around, about to float away.
"I'm looking for someone," Arthur blurted out, hoping he didn’t seem too suspicious.
"Oh really? You and half of the Commonwealth. Humor me, who's that going to be?"
Arthur scooted closer to the robot and carefully looked around.
"I'm looking for the Silver Shroud." He could feel everyone’s eyes on his back as soon as he said it. Even the singer stopped mid-sentence. The silence was so thick you could reach out and grab it.
"Ha. Ha. Ha. You're a funny one, I'll give you that." The robot turned around and floated away.
Arthur shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Everyone was looking at him. Someone might recognize him. Worse, they might think he was a troublemaker.
He could guess what happened with the troublemakers with this town.
He slid quietly from his chair and made his way through the Third Rail as fast as he could. When his fingers were on the door handle, something hard smacked him on the back of a head. The world blinked out like a terminal screen without power.
When he came back to his senses it was all pain. Arthur assessed the situation carefully, trying to ignore the throbbing in his head.
He was tied to a chair. His captors had also handcuffed him just to be safe. He could feel the metal digging into his wrists. That was going to pose a problem. It was relatively dark. The only window was pretty far away from where he was, and only pale moonlight was coming through.
So he hadn’t been out for too long. Or had been and it was the next night already.
Who were his captors? Why had they done this? How long before the Brotherhood sent a search party for their Elder? How long would it take them to find him, especially since he had deliberately misled his people?
It had seemed like a good plan at the time. He had casually mentioned to Danse and his recruit, who were playing poker with Ingram and Teagan in the mess, that he was going to hunt. Maybe get a fresh radstag if he was lucky.
Damn it, it was supposed to be different. He was a fool. He should never have looked for this crazy Shroud person. Now he probably has had gotten himself killed for nothing, and the Brotherhood would fall to infighting and chaos because of him...
A high pitched sound of shattering glass made him look up.
A dark figure bathed in the moonlight was standing in front of him. Their long black trenchcoat was falling almost to the floor, tiny broken glass shards pooled around the person's feet like stardust. The coat shimmered under the moonlight with an almost silvery gleam. A black hat, matched with reflective sunglasses and a dark bandana, made sure that the face of this person remained a mystery.
The Silver Shroud.
Arthur gasped. It was like this person had stepped out of a comic book. Shroud glanced at him from under the rim of his hat - Maxson couldn't see it, but he felt it, the intense gaze almost burning him - and moved towards him.
His light steps made no sound on the broken glass.
"A hostage. I should have known! Those misfits would go to such lengths to gain an upper hand, but I'm not so easily apprehended! They all paid dearly for their vile crimes..."
Arthur blinked in surprise. Deep and imposing the voice might be, but it definitely belonged to a woman.
He could see it now. A lighter build, the coat's generous lapels almost perfectly concealing her chest, hips a bit too wide to be considered male... A woman? How could this be?
Not that he didn't think a woman could be strong. He grew up around women who could easily lift a man and break his spine over their knee. Sarah Lyons, Star Paladin Cross, Proctor Ingram... He just expected the Shroud to be... well, like the Shroud of the old. A surly chain-smoking man, armed with a sub-machine gun and conviction.
Nothing could prepare him for this lithe, agile woman, who made her way to his chair faster than he could turn his head, and unlocked his handcuffs with an ease that came from years of practice. The ropes tightened for a second and were ripped away, and Arthur flew up from his chair. He regretted that instantly, his head spinning, his legs giving out from under him. The blow to the head was worse than he’d thought while he was sitting.
The Shroud hid a knife inside her sleeve and walked up to him.
"Are you all right? Do you require my assistance?" She said, crouching beside him, her voice straining to maintain the deepness.
"I'm... I... I need a minute." He huffed, clutching his head. The pain washed over him and passed, for now.
The Shroud stared at him from behind the reflective glasses.
"This band was capturing the people who were looking for my help, citizen. Those bastards were trying to make a point. I made a point of proving them wrong..." She stood up and extended a gloved hand, helping him up, "It is regretful what happened to you on my watch. Allow me to repay you."
"How?" Arthur staggered to his feet, colliding with the woman for a brief second. She was... tall. They were almost of the same height, and Arthur usually towered over wastelanders . Adequate nutrition during childhood made a lot of difference.
"You need to take care of that wound. Allow me to do that. You’ll get a safe place to stay, meds and stims, even chems if that's what you fancy... You were hurt because of my actions. I owe you a debt. And the Silver Shroud always repays his debts."
She supported him as they made their way down. She'd only let go of him once, to tamper with a terminal. The elevator made a humming noise and turned on. Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. No stairs.
They made their way through the Goodneighbor, thankfully not meeting anyone on the way. It was early morning, as far as Arthur could tell, and even the most stubborn drifters were had either passed out drunk, or high or had been lucky enough to find some company for the night.
When they entered the seedy hotel, Shroud walked past the hostess like she owned the place. The old woman frowned but didn't say anything.
She had to all but drag him up the stairs. By the time they made their way to her room, both of them were panting. She unlocked the door and pushed him inside. She then proceeded to disarm, leaving her sniper rifle by the desk, and her knife and a heavy pistol on the nightstand.
Arthur collapsed on the bed and was thankful that it was relatively clean. The place smelled faintly of mold and decay, much like the rest of the Commonwealth. Soon he would learn to ignore it just like everyone did have.
The Shroud sat on the bed next to him, and it was really hard to figure out what she was thinking with her face hidden completely under the costume. All he could tell was that she had rather short, shaggy hair that was slicked back behind her ears, dark and shiny, and surprisingly clean looking.
"Why the mask?" Arthur asked quietly, fighting the urge to reach out and touch her.
"To protect the ones I care about. And to stop certain people from coming after me. I doubt the Brotherhood would think twice before jumping to certain conclusions, their Elder kidnapped and injured because of me..."
Arthur's head snapped up, pain returning in force.
"Yes, I know who you are, Arthur Maxson. You are lucky your kidnappers did not."
He let out a defeated sigh. The Shroud was good. He caught a glimpse of her handiwork when they made their way through the foyer of that abandoned building - very impressive, considering that she was alone. At least five men laid slain on the floor, and from the look of it, they hadn’t even known what hit them.
"I know. You're going to say the same thing as everyone else. I know it was irresponsible of me and it can't happen again," Arthur said bitterly.
The Shroud nodded.
"But I want it to happen. I want to see you work, to see you confront a villain, to watch you cleanse the Commonwealth. I... " he stuttered. The Shroud cocked her head to the side, "I never miss an episode, you know. On the radio. I had to meet you, Shroud. I... wish I could be more like you. Not bound by rigid rules and duties, free to help people as I see fit."
"You can't," she said, for the first time forgetting to use the voice of the Shroud. Her real voice was much more harmonic, even though a little rough. It seemed faintly familiar. She cleared her throat and returned to the acting. "You think the Shroud does not have duties? Look around you. I have a duty to protect these people, just like you protect yours."
"It's such a waste for you to be doing it on a small scale. With Brotherhood you could save the entire Commonwealth. We have the resources..."
"No. It's... Not that simple." She answered and got on her feet.
"No! Please, don't go."
"Bandages, stimpacks, and Med-X are in the top drawer," she seemed to be ignoring him. "Goodbye, Arthur Maxson. Don't try to find me again."
He lurched forward, his head screaming with pain, but he had enough time to grab her wrist and pull himself up to her. She tensed, her arm twitching, but she did not attack.
"Please... If this is the only time we can meet, I'd love to have something to remember you by. To make sure it was real..."
She seemed to be thinking, but he couldn't tell.
"... close your eyes. No peeking." Her tone left no room for debate. Arthur obeyed. She slipped behind him and then he felt warm fabrics touching his face, covering his eyes. It tightened around his head and he could feel a knot, a little above the wound, where caked blood stuck to his skin.
He tried to open his eyes, but the cloth was dark and thick, letting no light through.
"What is this ab..."
The soft touch of her lips on his made him shut up. Hers were chapped a bit, but his were no better. Arthur pulled her closer to him, desperate to feel her, touch her, burn this moment into his memory. She didn't resist, and he felt her hands, now gloveless, sliding up his chest, feeling the hard muscles under the thin fabric of his simple T-shirt.
She broke the kiss and pushed him slightly backwards. Arthur's legs collided with the bed as he stepped back, so he sat down, nervous.
He could hear soft sounds of sliding fabric and then she was on top of him, straddling his hips. Arthur groaned. This position made his hardening cock uncomfortably pressured, not to mention quite obvious. He knew she could feel him through his pants. The Shroud chuckled, low and husky, her hands exploring his body. Arthur let his palms to do the same. A shame he couldn't see her, learn what felt good and what didn't. He had to rely on his other senses to figure it out.
With the coat gone he could feel the heat radiating from her body. He found her neck blindly and nuzzled into her, hoping also to move away the mask that was covering his eyes, to get just a small glimpse of this woman.
The impromptu blindfold was frustratingly tight. He huffed and proceeded to tug on her button up shirt. Arthur slipped his hand inside, feeling the softest skin on her belly. Shroud shuddered and tried to move away from him, but he held her tight. With his other hand he tried to unbutton her, but with the blindfold on it was nigh impossible.
He grabbed the sides of her shirt and ripped them open, and heard a few buttons shooting through the air, hitting the walls. The woman in his arms gasped, and then smacked him on a shoulder, outraged.
He paid it no mind, his hands sliding up her body, feeling, touching, exploring. He found her breasts and pushed the bra down, freeing them from the constraints. His mouth was on her nipple immediately, sucking and lapping.
The moan that escaped the Shroud's lips made Arthur shudder with excitement. He could feel everything so much clearer now. With his eyes blindfolded his other senses had heightened. He could hear her breath quickening, feel her pulse under her skin. It was maddening, and his cock throbbed in anticipation.
He felt her sliding away from him and stifled a disappointed moan. But he could hear her disrobing, though he didn't know to what extent. It took all of his willpower not to rip away the damn blindfold and pounce on her. She had her reasons, he had to respect them.
He felt her returning, and he could tell that the last of her clothing was gone now. Arthur's hands wandered down her skin, caressing and scratching lightly. He found her ass, round and firm, and squeezed it, loving the way it gave under his hands.
He was suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he was still fully clothed, a naked woman on his lap. He let go of her and peeled his jacket off, feeling her lips on his throat.
The Shroud pushed him back, making him lay down. She unfastened his pants and pushed the fabric down just enough for his cock to spring free. She hummed quietly and left him wondering if she approved, if she liked what she saw.
The answer came when he felt her lips closing around his tip. She swirled her tongue around him and sucked. Arthur moaned loudly and his hands found her hair, silky and smooth, and long enough for him to grab onto.
She took him in deeper, and he could feel her cheeks from the inside. Waves of pleasure washed over him one after another, threatening to overwhelm him. He gasped and pulled her up roughly by the hair but she didn't seem to mind.
Arthur could almost feel her smug grin.
Time for a little revenge, he thought. His hand let go of her hair and snaked down her body. He felt her shiver under his touch. He felt a small patch of coarser hair and moved in lower still, finding her slick with juices. She coated his fingers immediately and he chuckled.
She was wet for him.
His fingers ghosted over her slick folds, not going inside, not yet. He searched for that little nub of nerves, the magic button, and when he touched it she bucked in his hand. Arthur grinned and continued the assault on her clit, rubbing his rough fingerpad firmly on the soft, gentle bud.
She squirmed in his arms, moaning and sobbing, and he could feel her pussy twitch randomly. She was getting close. He slid a finger inside and curled it upwards.
She came undone, mewling loudly. The moan went straight to his cock and Arthur groaned. He could feel her juices coating his hand, and her shaking on his chest. He wanted to see her so badly, but he couldn't.
He held her tighter and flipped them in one fluid motion. Arthur couldn't hold out any longer. He grabbed her hips and pulled her close. He couldn't see, but he felt her hand on his cock, guiding him to her entrance. As soon as he felt her wet folds touching his tip he pushed in.
Both of them cried out at the sudden flood of sensation. Her pussy was clamping down on his thick shaft, so hot and wet and perfect. He could feel her tensing, could feel her erratic pulse all around him.
He withdrew almost completely before ramming back into her, again and again. He knew he wouldn't hold on much longer but he wanted her to come again, to feel her orgasm while he was inside her. His fingers found her clit again and she threw her head back in a helpless moan, her nails leaving marks on his back.
He felt her twitch around his cock, tightening, and couldn't hold on anymore. He came with a loud groan, spilling himself deep inside her, and he felt her shudder under him. She was panting, and one last flick of his finger was enough to push her over the edge too.
A sudden bang on the wall next to them was accompanied by a gruff, muffled voice.
"Keep it down! I'm trying to sleep here, you punks!"
Arthur had to bite his lip to keep himself from roaring with laughter and he felt Shroud shaking under him in silent agreement.
He rolled away from her, already missing the feeling of her body. He felt her rise from the bed, the mattress springing back free. She quietly gathered her clothes and dressed herself.
"Don't take it off until I'm gone," she whispered, her fingertips ghosting over the blindfold and then his lips. Arthur suddenly felt his chest tightening with emotions.
"Goodbye," she said quietly.
He had to say something, anything.
"Will I ever see you again?" He whispered.
The sound of closing door was his only answer.