Chapter 4: Downhill

<>~Freeside, Old Mormon Fort~<>

“She’s going through a recovery period right now. She nearly died yesterday before she somehow managed to stumble in here.”

Those words. Those words conjured thoughts of the unimaginable. Pinkie was in the hospital, and it was my fault I couldn’t find her fast enough to protect her.

I hate hospitals. Nothing but pain and death reside with the walls. I didn’t want to admit to my friends that, that was why I hated hospitals. I feared me, or one of my friends would enter, but wouldn’t come back out.

Fear accompanied me as I followed Arcade as he led me to Pinkie. The grave tone he had used in giving me the news made my heart pound.

We neared a nearby olive green military style tent. Arcade opened the flap to allow me inside with a gentle wave of his hand. Veronica waited outside to respect my privacy. Inside the stuffy, olive green walls, I wanted to collapse on my knees and cry.

Pinkie looked… she looked terrible laying on that bed. Her mane had lost its poofy bounce, and I nearly yelped in horror when I noticed the IV running into her wrist while wires ran under the green shirt she was wearing. Tears began to dampen my face as I saw the matted knots and tangles in her pink mane was a matted in knots. Cuts and scratches covered her arms while dried blood was under her nose.

From the steady beeps from a machine she was hooked to, her heartrate was fine for the moment.

Arcade let out a small sigh, “I’m sorry you have to see your friend like this, miss…”

“Rainbow Dash,” I said weakly. “What happened?” My voice was a croaking whisper as I knelt by my friend’s bedside.

I didn’t expect Pinkie to open her eyes. They were slightly bloodshot with dark bags under them from lack of sleep, “Hey Dashie,” Pinkie said… distantly, like she was trapped in thought.

“Pinkie, who did this to you?” I asked frantically as I took hold of her right hand.

“He didn’t mean it. I thought they were candy... please, quit yelling,” Pinkie pie pleaded, letting go of my hand. Her voice held no joy, just a distant, lost-in-thought tone.

“I’m not yelling Pinkie. Please, tell me who did this,” I was confused and beginning to get desperate for answers. Arcade stood behind me, useless as he let me speak to Pinkie.

“His name is Dixon. I traded,” she paused for a few seconds, “my bottle cap collection… for mints. But they weren't mints.”

“Do you hurt?” It was a stupid question, I could see it in her eyes. But I needed to know for sure.

Pinkie gave a weak little nod.

Rage began to boil inside of me. A lone thought passing over my mind, 'that bastard was gonna pay big time for hurting Pinkie'.

“I’m going to have to leave for a little while. Will you be okay here Pinkie?”

“Yeppers,” she replied with an almost sleepy sounding voice “The doctors can keep the monsters away.”

I really, really wanted to stay by her side and talk… but I had a drug dealer to have a  little talk with.

<~The Big Empty, The Sink~>

Jamie rolled over in bed, opening his eyes slowly to see the dull grey ceiling above. He noticed quickly the depression left in the mattress left behind by his now missing bedmate.

Casting the covers aside, Jamie jumped out of bed and onto his feet. Looking at the far wall, a single locker of three was open, the contents inside missing.

The sound of piano music reached Jamie’s ears, causing him to raise an eyebrow. Taking a few steps out of the room, he reached the central room.

Moonlight Sonata, he recognized, was the tune that was playing. The CIU played the holotape often for Jamie when he was in the room. Jamie enjoyed letting each note sink in as he stood, letting his face form a rare smile in his harsh life.

Today, however, it was absent as he saw Midnight tinkering with the workbench at the far side of the circular room.

“Good morning,” Midnight addressed Jamie, not even turning her head that was bare of the halo, “I didn’t know what you would like to eat, or when you usually get up, so I decided to repair this busted power assisted combat suit I found in the locker instead.”

The whole time Midnight’s voice was calm and even, before she added like a child caught with cookies before dinner, “Sorry for snooping.”

“Huh?” Jamie asked, right before seeing his T-45d power armor and helmet laying on the bench.

Surprisingly it was in less pieces than before he put it in the locker. He had arrived in Big MT wearing it, and it had met its fate when three lobotomites with proton-axes attacked him, along with a small robo-scorpion.

After the battle, the armor was covered with cuts burned into the armor, and one lucky swing managed to shatter the armor’s right arm casing to the point of it falling off.

“Yeah,” Midnight said, gaining her nonchalance back, “The main servo control housing had taken quite a beating, the primary electrical circuit board was chopped in half, the helmet’s air hose had a hole in it, the leg servos are still miscalibrated and fail to link with the bodysuit, and to top it off, I’m trying to work with tools I can’t remember the measurements of.”

Jamie’s mouth dropped in astonishment as most of the terms sailed over his average range of intelligence.

“Back up a second,” Jamie said, rubbing his temple with a gloved hand, “If you can’t remember anything, how are you able to look at that power armor and know how to fix it?” He asked. Jamie began thinking back to his cryogenics idea. Perhaps she was a scientist instead of a test subject, using herself as a guinea pig for some sort of purple eye color experiment.

“Not all my memory was wiped clear,” Midnight explained, finally turning around, a faint scar displayed just over her left eye. “I look at things around me and I get all these big words and other stuff popping into my head that I know the definition to. I can see something and realize that it can works with another object, right on up until I can glance at this ‘power armor’, as you put it, and find out how it works from a few simple glances.

“Plus I’m rooting around it’s electronics,” Midnight added with a small laugh.

Jamie cocked his head to the side, stroking his goatee once while admiring her technical prowess, then decided to ask the obvious. “What on Earth possessed you to dig my busted power armor out the locker anyway? And why are you playing my music?"

“The answer to the first is simple: I was bored and there doesn’t seem to be any books lying around. Also, I think I remember that I like books… Anyway, the second was recommended to me by the artificial intelligence. A sweet talker, plus he has a good choice in music, although, it’s a bit mood dampening.”

The CIU decided to chime in at her statement, “Sorry ma’am, shall I play Mozart’s Requiem or shall I put on Beethoven’s Für Elise?”

“The latter sounds like it would be better, thank you,” Midnight cordially addressed the CIU as she turned back to work on the power armor.

Jamie walked forward a few steps before Midnight spoke, stopping him, “I never asked for your name yesterday,” she said, slowly tightening a screw, “And don’t be mad, but I took a few things from the overhead locker to make some repairs.”

“It’s no big deal really,” Jamie said slowly, “Oh, by the way, my name is Jamie Brogden... how long have you been up for?” He checked his Pip-Boy, which read 9:15.

“I’d say three hours or so,” Midnight answered after a small hum, “I was startled at first when the toaster threatened to burn me in the living room, then the Central Intelligence Unit offered me a drink, but now I’m fine. Oh, and I placed the little blue robot on the other bench.”

Jamie grit his teeth as he glared at the blue robot. Muggy was on his reloading bench… the little blue bastard... why did his houseguest have to be nice to the little annoying scrapheap?

“Midnight,” Jamie said forgetting his anger as he remembered something he had thought of, “I was wondering if the last name Star would suit you, due to your tattoo.”

“Huh?” she said, not registering the question due to being engrossed into the task at hand, but then realized what he said. “Yeah...Midnight Star,” She said as she tapped her chin with a wrench, “It seems fitting for some reason.”

“So, Midnight, what are you doing to the armor?”

“Oh,” She said, surprised just a bit, “I’m glad you asked. I integrated the small halo regeneration accelerator into the helmet, replaced a few wires, plugged in a battery, and stitched on a few patches to the bodysuit portions of the suit with some loose thread and a needle I found.”

“So, you're saying that you repaired a type 45 delta, power-assisted battle armor, with some scrap and a piece of string?” He asked, completely blown away from the thoroughness of the job, which was done in less than three hours no less.

“Pretty much,” Midnight proudly claimed with a smile, “Though the left arm is missing and it took me a while to figure out how to sow again. And I may or may not have cheated by using a bit of duct tape to fix the air hose connected to the helmet.”

Jamie craned his neck, trying to see more of the armor, but Midnight scooped up the armor and went towards the bedroom. “Don’t come in here,” She warned as Jamie tried tell her that she wasn’t properly trained with power armor.

‘Well, she’ll figure out she can’t wear it,’  He thought to himself, patiently waiting for her to get frustrated with the archaic equipment.

Not ten minutes later, there were heavy booted footfalls coming from the room. Midnight stepped out of the bedroom and into the foyer, dressed in the power armor.

Her left arm was covered by a grey colored cape, the top of said cape running through the hole in the shoulder pauldron. For the most part, the helmet seemed the same, with the exception of the duct tape over one of the hoses.

“Where did you get the cloth?” He asked, not realizing that she was wearing armor she shouldn’t have been able to wear. But then again, she could have been from the Brotherhood. This wasn’t the first Brotherhood of Steel member that discovered the place.

Jamie recalled finding an audio-log from a girl named Christina and a man who called himself Ulysses.

He had met Christina herself when he attended the Gala for the Sierra Madre, an event he was forced to partake in by the former Brotherhood of Steel Elder, Elijah. The ‘Ulysses’ character, however, he hadn’t met, but he seemed to be a part of his past somehow.

The CIU butted in, “Well sir, it was me. I notified Ms. Star of my barter function and she traded a few of the broken parts for cloth and a fission battery.”

“Oh, well that’s fine, as long as she didn’t sell anything of too high value without asking first.”

Midnight rolled her eyes, unbeknownst to Jamie due to the helmet, and gave a sarcastic sigh, “You know I’m right here.”

Finally, Jamie realized she was actually wearing the armor. “That I do,” he said, looking her over in a bit of disbelief, “But how did you manage to get that on. With the memory loss, you shouldn’t be able to remember how to.”

Midnight just shrugged, “I guess since I fixed it, I noticed the particular way it was supposed to go on or something. So what’s for breakfast?”

Jamie groaned; of course, he ran out of food supplies that he had brought, and didn't even manage to scout the botanical garden for potential foodstuff. Now, he needed to get food for the both of them… or have Midnight tag along to see how she would adapt to the new world she was forced to live in.

Or maybe if she was indeed from the Brotherhood, instead of his previous guesses, then the exploration might help jog some of her memories. Plus, a companion would be nice sense the cyberdog he had made last week didn't want to follow him out the door of the facility she was created in.

Even if she wasn't Brotherhood, some potential combat experience and wasteland 101 would be in order.

“Midnight, do you recall ever having any experience with weapons?” Jamie asked with a friendly chuckle.

“Can’t remember if I did, but I’m sure I can learn fast,” Midnight said with determination and confidence.

“Well, then, let’s go exploring.”

<>~Freeside~<>

Oh boy. Dixon was in for it when I got my hands on him. Storming out the gate, Veronica tailing behind me, she asked frantically, “What’s going on?” Her face bore a worried, almost panicked expression.

“I’m finding some guy named Dixon,” I said, seething at the name.

“I’m all for a good skull bashing,” Veronica stated almost casually, “But what happened to the I don’t kill speech yesterday?”

I let out a furious growl, “I’m not going to kill him. I’m going to make him pay for selling drugs to Pinkie. She’s too naive and innocent for her own good. She trusts bout near anybody who says their her friend.”

Veronica grit her teeth, “I hate people who take advantage of innocence, and I hate chem dealers. I know who he is, let’s knock him down a peg.” 

<>~Big Mountain, the Sink~<>

Jamie could see that Midnight was eager to learn. Upon donning his combat helmet that he kept in one of the bedroom’s lockers, he pulled out a 5.56 caliber marksman carbine - a weapon Midnight inspected - along with the ammo.

It didn’t take her long to deduce the way the weapon worked.

Seeing how good at finding object’s purpose Midnight was, Jamie handed her the laser rifle he kept for back-up, and a microfusion cell to see if she could guess what they were.

The silver-grey, rectangular weapon seemed to puzzle her at first. She turned the rifle to nearly every conceivable angle as she studied it, memorizing every little detail of the weapon.

Plugging the microfusion cell into a well in the weapon’s side, Midnight slid back a handle when the cell fell into place. She took aim at the wall, then sent a scorching crimson beam, careening across the room. It left a sizable burn mark in the concrete.

Jamie couldn't see the quizzical look on Midnight’s face as she worked out how the weapon worked in her head from a single test fire.

Seeing how she could obviously handle a laser weapon, Jamie gave her a satchel of the cells to use. Then, to Midnight’s surprise, he handed her an axe with a blade made from blue energy that seemed to dance with electricity. 

From how still Midnight was, Jamie could tell she was either extremely astonished, or confused. Perhaps a bit of both. It was hard to tell through the helmet.

Now it was time for some target practice. And the old securitron disassembling plant he cleared out should be a good start.

<>~Big Mountain, Ulysse’s Camp~<>

Midnight lay on her back, looking at the sky above, her breath slow and labored as she stared at a distant cloud through the cracked eyepiece of the power helmet. The only thing keeping her from going under was the constant cacophonous ring of Jamie’s marksman carbine, along with the thwump and boom of the Securitrons’ grenade rifles. It sounded like it was at a fair enough distance away, and was getting even more distant as time passed.

Midnight and Jamie were having fun testing out her energy weapon skills - oddly not finding any rogue lobotomites wandering around. Their target practice caused the robots Jamie thought he had destroyed to chase them to the little hideaway behind the factory. The duo made a good run, keeping pace with each other, but a grenade managed to put Midnight on the ground, the power armor’s legs taking the brunt of the explosive blow. Jamie continuing on, unaware of her plight as the bots passed her, thinking her dead or more focused on Jamie.

Midnight began to feel the sting of the shrapnel embedded in her exposed left arm, but it was only a flesh wound, missing vital veins and arteries.

Rolling over, she began to crawl, with Jamie nowhere in sight. She could only hear his gun echoing off like firecrackers.

Getting up, she began to limp, pain shooting her her right leg. Luckily, the helmet’s valence-accelerator was already tending to her wounds, but she was sure the leg was crippled, an injury the accelerator couldn’t handle.

She made her way over to the wooden pallets that made up the floor of the hideaway they incidentally discovered, looking for a weapon to replace both the proton-axe and the laser rifle she lost. She dropped the rifle when the bots started shooting, so it was near the factories front door.

She managed to keep hold of the proton-axe during her run, but - putting it scientifically -  was  trashed after the grenade blowing up reduced it to nothing more than a twisted piece of metal, and no doubt, a contributor to one of the fragments of shrapnel embedded in Midnight’s arm.

Sitting on a pallet, she looked at her arm, the most noticeable damage was a three inch piece of jagged metal sharply lodged into her flesh. Grabbing the hunk, she pulled it out with a cry of pain. The accelerator couldn’t do its work if something was in the way.

There was something about the fighting and danger that she felt familiar with. She began to think, not realizing the cacophony in the distance was no more. She thought she could remember something about a soldier she once knew. A husband? A brother? she couldn’t tell, all she knew was that she was supposed to know him.

Right as she began to really think, Jamie slid down a nearby rock, kicking up dust as he landed, his combat armor having a few more shrapnel cuts than before. “You alright?” he asked with concern, gritting his teeth, “Sorry for leaving you behind. Damn things wouldn't let up.”

Midnight, breathing erratically from her injuries, just cracked a smile under the helmet, “Never better, barring the pain everywhere.  I could do with adding a few modifications to this armor, like a left arm,” She chuckled, “Wonder what we can salvage from this place. As you said before, this was the deconstruction plant for robots. They’re bound to have adequate enough alloys to maintain my armor. Maybe even upgrade it.”

“I’m likin’ how you think,” Jamie said in a mock country accent. A brief whisper of a memory flowed through Midnight’s thoughts, but was as unnoticed as an evening breeze.

Standing up, Midnight cried out in pain. Her right leg buckling under her own weight. Falling, Jamie caught the armored woman, who seemed on the verge of tears.

“You’re definitely not okay,” he said with a stern tone before pointing a finger at her right leg, ”You said something about that leg?”

“I-I’ll live,” She said through a grunt.

Jamie pulled out a green bottle with different colored vials scotch-taped to it, “Here, drink this. They call this stuff Hydra. Goes down like a bitch, but it’s guaranteed to get you on your feet again.”

Midnight ignored his foul language with the promise of a pain reliever. Taking the dirty green bottle, Midnight uncorked the top. Peering inside, she saw a greenish soup of who-knew-what in it.

Then the smell hit her, even through the air filter in the helmet. She could only describe the foul gunk as rancid as she tried to compare it to something. Nothing she could remember - which was very little at the moment - smelled that horrible.

Suppressing a gag, she decided to go ahead and get it over with. Taking off her helmet, she upturned the bottle. Gulping down the foul ichor in one go. After the contents of the bottler were drained, she gagged as the concoction left a taste akin to dirt in her mouth.

Hoping her gag reflex didn't kick in so she didn’t have to taste it again, Midnight stood up. All the pain in her joints and muscles were gone as she felt like running a marathon.

“What was in that?” Midnight asked, never feeling so limber before, like a professional athlete or a ballet artist.

He gave a impish chuckle, a sly grin on his face, “Trust me, I know the recipe, and you don’t want to know.”

Shugging, she decided not to pry. Giving a little shake, she hopped from side to side like a boxer while imitating punches. After her little bit of fun, she replaced her helmet atop her head, popped the kink in her neck, and laughed.

“So,” She began, already feeling up for some more danger, “Let’s go explore this dangerous factory you failed to properly clear out.”

“What, with no weapons?” Jamie asked, concern for the woman's safety oozing from his retort, “You’re gonna get yourself killed.”

“Try and keep up!” She laughed out, knowing exactly where to find the laser rifle she dropped.

Facepalming, Jamie ran after the woman - who, for a sciencey type - was pretty fast in heavy armor.

Reaching the front of the factory, Midnight found her laser rifle, picked it up and dusted it off, checking to see if it was damaged.

Satisfied, she placed it on her back, the suits special magnetic holster gripping the gun across her back. Walking up to the blue double doors of the factory, she waited as Jamie caught up, panting slightly from having to sprint again. Midnight looked at him as he put his hands on his knees to catch his breath, and said with a hidden smirk “And I didn’t even break a sweat.”

“I’m beginning to believe you’re Brotherhood of Steel,” Jamie panted, glancing up at her, “Rather than my other guesses. But the eye color you have is just not natural.”

“We can figure that out later,” Midnight said, “Even if I was Brotherhood of Steel, I can’t remember. But more importantly, we got some armor to rebuild.”

Groaning, Jamie rolled his eyes as he stood up, “And what happened to finding breakfast?”

She laughed, “We got shot at by machines. I think food can wait.”

Going through the doors, the duo entered the factory. Jamie had his carbine at the ready, while Midnight still had the laser rifle magnetically strapped to her back. Not a single enemy came to greet them. What did was the numerous piles of rubble and the strong moldy smell from the decrepit factory’s crumbling structure.

They passed a wooden front desk that was covered in wood and concrete that was once the ceiling. “Man this place needs some organization,” Midnight said offhandedly with a shake of her head.

Jamie picked up on her comment, “Scribe. Yep, you’re definitely a Brotherhood scribe.”

“Huh? What is the Brotherhood again?” Midnight asked as she picked up a steam gauge assembly from the floor, tucking it under her arm and moving deeper into the factory.

He chuckled, “To be candid, the Brotherhood has noble goals, but they don’t have the strength or the willingness to do what they say. To make their image worse, the Brotherhood hordes pre-war technology, and isn’t open to outsiders. I’m sort of an exception. The Brotherhood wants to help the wasteland, but Elder McNamara has had the Brotherhood in the bunker far too long. Hopefully Veronica and I can show him why he needs to change the way we operate. It worked for the San Francisco chapter, or so Veronica tells me.”

The duo entered a cavernous room, stopping at a broken securitron next to a very rusty conveyor belt. Midnight instantly set to work, ripping a tubular arm off of the chassis, “Would you kindly grab a few tools if you can find them?”

“I’ll be right on it,” Jamie said with a quick nod, “I’ll see what I can find and make sure this place is completely clear.”

As Jamie went to find tools, Midnight began to form a mental checklist of items.

“I need electrical wires, scrap metal, a power source or two... and something to replace the suits arm,” She muttered to herself. Sure, the grey cape she had was flashy, but it wasn’t her style, and it already had shrapnel holes in it. She had the securitron arm as a base for replacing the left arm, but needed better protection.

“Holy shit!” Jamie yelled as his carbine let out multiple shots.

Midnight dropped the Securitron’s arm and steam gauge assembly, running to check to see if he was alright. Grabbing the laser rifle from her back, she hurried through the factory towards Jamie. Jumping over a collapsed securitron, there was a metal garage-style door open about twenty meters away from her.

To her horror, multiple skeletons in red spacesuit-like clothing were charging in. Most of them were armed with gray and yellow rifles that had a large, green, gas-filled glass cylinder that served as a barrel.

Midnight skidded to a halt, memory replaying of the darkness, the saw, and blood and pain. Quickly shaking herself out of the memory, Midnight leveled her rifle at the closest skeleton, ready for some payback. It responded in kind by taking aim at her as well.

It’s rifle spewed a glob of green that missed Midnight’s head by a few inches, as a streak of crimson from her own weapon melted a chunk of the glass dome surrounding the skeletons skull.

“Hey, who turned out the lights?” A male voice asked, emanating from the skeleton without it’s jaws moving.

“What the fuck!?” Midnight cursed as she turned-tail, the other skeleton now aiming at her. Vaulting over a nearby conveyor belt with a grunt, she landed next to Jamie, who peered over the top to fire a few shots.

He missed all but one.

“Hey, who turned out the lights?” the skeleton asked again as green balls of superheated plasma screamed over Midnight’s head. For some reason unknown to her, Midnight swore she attended a wedding like this as globules of green started burning black marks into the wall behind the cover she took.

Another skeleton came close, “I-I feel so cold,” the skeleton stuttered in a soft, feminine voice as it took aim.

Midnight looked at Jamie beside her who was trying to load loose bullets into a magazine, “Why the hay do they do that?” She cursed, as more skeletons came in, each with a different voice.

“From what I can tell,” Jamie shouted, even though Midnight was right beside him, “If the person in the suit died fast enough, the communicator built into the suit got stuck in a continuous loop of the last thing they said!” He finished with as he slapped a now full magazine into the gun, pulled back the charging handle, and looked to Midnight, “On the third count, we pop up and blast them, three, two, one!”

The duo sprang into action, each firing their respective weaponry at the advancing horde of no less than eight Y-17 trauma harnesses. The walking skeletons quickly took cover behind pillars, rubble, and machinery. The programming in the suit was still working to protect the long dead occupants.

The gunfight attracted the curiosity of one lone lobotomite, who foolishly charged a harness with a hatchet while wearing a paper thin hospital gown and sackcloth hood.

The lobotomite didn’t last long as the harness turned and killed him with a single plasma pistol shot to the head, saying appropriately in a youthful and playful male voice, “Not funny guys.”

Midnight shuddered at the age he sounded like he was. He was probably younger than her when he died. Twenty six was the number she thought she could remember.

It said the same thing again, like it was mocking her. She quickly took aim at the specific one to silence the macabre creature. With a single shot to its chest, the harness collapsed as its electrical systems melted and failed to continue functioning.

She counted seven left, that was before she saw a green and tan cylinder land in the center of a group of three. The three disappeared in a flash of green, manmade hellfire.

Four now, she could easily take them with Jamie’s help. Taking cover again to reload a power cell, Jamie told her he used a plasma grenade. She didn’t care what it was, as long as it worked.

Standing up to shoot over the conveyor again, Jamie was struck in the chest by a liquid ball of green fire.

Falling to the ground, dropping his rifle, he writhed in pain, the green goo continuing to burn him. “JAMIE!” Midnight yelled as she turned away from combat just long enough to get hit in her still exposed left arm, dropping her rifle in pain and tripping. She foolishly grabbed the plasma wound with her hand, the superheated goo quickly melted through the glove over her right hand, burning it to the point of instantly blistering.

The remaining four began to advance, ready to finish off the wounded warriors. Tears were streaming down Midnight’s face as the wound burned with the heat of a miniature sun.

A harness walked towards her wounded body, pointing its plasma rifle at her head.

“Did the lights go out?” It asked, in an angry and gruff male voice. It’s gloved bone that once was his pointer finger, ready to pull the trigger.