Drinking Buddy powered on, then spoke out loud that it's microbrewers and subroutines were all operational, and that it even had an internal bottling mechanism. It was loaded with a Gwinnette Pale Ale recipe, and the last batch of beer was sealed with nitrogen to make it inert, and it only took sixty seconds from the moment it turned on to pump out the lines, cleaning out the dust and excess build-up, by shooting hot water through them. Followed by ice cold water, then finally switching over to pumping beer through its refrigeration system. Despensing a small ice cold beer for Meathead to try, it was poured into a bottle visible held in a metal ring through a small window, then once it was full, the window opened, the bottle tipped out, and a beer was offered. The walking, talking modified-protectron robot had a keg-sized micro-brewery in its chest cavity, with multiple buttons for dispensing different beers.

"<Okay, I'm keeping you.>" Meathead said, taking the cold bottle from its holder. The window closed and Drinking Buddy remained still, awaiting feedback.

Tasting the beer, Meathead realized this was immediately infinitely better, smoother, and crisper than what was served at the Third Rail.

Five Lakes, New York, Or, was it Finger Lakes? Were there were five lakes at Finger Lakes? Whichever the case, he would ask Nate about it later. The wine growing region was home to some of the finest wines on the East Coast with vineyards dating back pre-Revolutionary War. If some owners sprung for a Mr. Handy unit to monitor the wine storing and aging, then there could be sealed vats of wine ready for consumption, or barrels of 210 year aged wine, but the chance it was all sour vinegar was possible too.

Swallowing the rest of the beer, "<Yeah, you're definitely coming with me. Nate's going to flip when he sees you.>"

"Very Good. I appear to be operating at an optimal level. I'm scheduled for delivery, would you care to select the HOME designation?"

"<Executive Suites, Weatherby Savings and Loan Tower.>"

While not the most ideal way to start a morning, finding Drinking Buddy was a definite bonus. After scouring the rest of the restaurant, which there was a relatively untouched bar on the second level, finding spare recipes to put into Drinking Buddy was a long-term investment. How to restock or resupply the robot was beyond Meathead, and there wasn't exactly an intact owners manual laying around either.

\111/

Walking back to the U.S.S Constitution, and having two more morning beers, there were still three stars visible in the morning sky, with the sun quickly rising and turning the sky orange.

The Giddyup Buttercups were excited to see the new addition to the Executive Suites, but they were excited about most things, quickly tapping and prodding the robot to see all its features.

When he went up to the ship, Thunderstruck was out on the bow, her wings readjusting every so often to keep her steady, as the only thing far below her was Faneuil Hall.

"<Thunderstruck. Good Morning.>"

She turned around, leaping high up into the air with a few flaps of her wings to clear the railing, then landed on the deck.

"You're back, I need your help. Are you still...you?" She inquired.

"<Yes, I'm still disguised, how are you feeling? Any sluggish-ness? What do you need help with?>"

"I feel fine, but I went out last night and found somepony."

"Oh? Somepony? Who? Is she below deck?"

Pausing to take in his surroundings, Meathead felt the life form below deck and a sour expression came to his face, this was bad.

"Yes. But I need you to make one of those pods."

'<I can tell.>" Meathead thought, "What happened?"

Moving across the deck and pulling the hatch open, they went below deck where Meathead was introduced to Cherry, but the mare in question was in a terrible state. Non-responsive to the outside world, emotionally dead, Meathead tried calling out, but she wouldn't even blink.

"<Thunder, I don't know how to tell you this, but the pods can't fix this.>"

"Yes they can! It fixed me, and when I came out, I...I actually felt alive!" Placing a hoof to her chest and rubbing small circles to feel her breast. "You helped me, and I...I didn't even recognize myself! I can't remember what I used to look like! When I saw myself after coming out of the pod, I thought it was a sick joke! Cherry Fizz just needs to rest! She needs a warm, safe place, and not to be disturbed. You're the only pony in the whole world who could make something like that for her to recover. Please, make one."

"<Cherry?>" Meathead asked, hoping for some sort of response to help better gauge the traumatized mare. "<I'll do it, do you know what happened to her?>"

"When I found her, she had buried herself in the mud, and kept saying she was dead."

Meathead grizzled at the thought, he didn't even know where to begin unpacking abuse victim's emotional baggage, but he and Thunderstruck were both praying that waking up in a rested body would begin the journey to recovery.

\111/

Cherry was podded, and Meathead used all the excess emotion and energy given to him by Pickman, happy to disgorge the affection and other misplaced emotions into Changeling resin. Pickman was attracted to Nate, or at least, the idea of Nate, since Meathead was the one running about, but this attraction was not in the romantic-lust type of way, more like two apex tiger predators relishing in their place at the top of the food chain, and enamoured with the strength each of them possessed.

It's what drew Pickman to Athena, he realized, he was attracted to power.

"Did that kid make it home safe?" Thunderstruck asked soon after Cherry slipped below the surface of the hastily constructed changleing pod.

"<Yes, Donny made it home safe.>" Meathead replied, omitting what happened to Donny after he arrived at the hotel.

"You look like you wanna say something."

"<There is, Thunderstuck, you're free to stay, but do you want to go to Goodneighbor?>" Pointing down to the Old State House, she spotted the building. "<Hancock, the man who runs the community, asked us to check out Pickmans Gallery. I did that, but now I feel he just wanted us to make sure Pickman was still alive.>"

"And then what?"

"<Well, that's really up to you, do you have a plan now that you're free of Nuka-World? Save more ponies?>"

There was a hesitation, and Thunderstruck looked over the railing towards the city. "I wanted to find other ponies that escaped or got out. A lot of us were sold off, but some of my friends were butchered. I found one pony on a spit...roast. While I was rescuing Cherry."

Thunderstruck swallowed, not wanting to think about the smell of...of her friends being smoked over a fire with their rib cages exposed and organs ground up then shoved back into the intestines for sausages, and head boiling in a vat of soup water that would boil over, sending the skin and blood oils over the edge of the pot, causing it to burn on the metal and send black carcinogenic smoke into the air that was once someone Thunderstruck knew, with the smell coating her tongue.

Meathead knocked against the wooden railing, seeing Thunderstruck's eyes come back to focus on him and widen. "<Tell me more about this rescue. Where did you go? What happened?>"

Pointing across the bay to Libertalia, Thunderstruck recanted her story of how being late meant the death of two ponies from Nuka-World. She saw their bodies from above, killed whatever raiders she could, snuck in and dug Cherry out of the mud she was trying to drown herself in, and then carried her back to the Constitution.

"< I'm going below beck. I'll see you in two hours if you're still here. If you go exploring, stick to the tall buildings, avoid the streets, and watch out for signs of any life. Assume everything will want to kill you and you should be safe, Afterwards, I'm going down to Goodneighbor.>"

"Is it alright that I stay here longer than...now?"

"<We will probably ask you to contribute something later on to help keep things tidy. You like flying, right? In the future, we could give you a little radio to speak into while you're flying. Consider being an aerial scout, you could fly hundreds of meters up, being a tiny dot against the sky, far out of gun range, telling us where people or creatures are on the ground.>"

"I guess so. I wouldn't even know where to begin looking for any other ponies."

"<How did you know to go to Libertalia, then?>"

Thunderstruck sighed, having to relive her time in Nuka-World to answer the question.

"After the raiders took Nuka-World. It was bad. But the first thing the smartest raiders did, was sell off the weaker animals. Pack animals. That was the best we could hope for. Being sold. There were a lot of merchants that used to come through Nuka-World. And for a month or two afterwards, those same merchants would still come through. We still knew where ponies were going, what trade routes they were taking. We would pass along messages by word of mouth."

<There's hope then. If they aren't at Diamond City, and they were sold, and depending on what settlements are around Nuka-World, then it's more than likely they haven't gone farther than 50 miles. From here to Nuka-World is about 20 miles, and Boston is one of the larger densely populated areas of the Commonwealth. There's a strong chance you'll cross paths with them, or be able to track others down. Does that sound good?>"

The tan mare nodded, "Yeah. How do you know all that?"

"<You wouldn't understand, but there was a television program called 60 Minutes. They covered every subject, but there were famous cases of people who disappeared or kidnapped and were gone for years, decades even. Only be within a 50 miles radius from where they were taken. If they're still alive, we can help you find them.>"

"One more thing?"

"<What is it?>"

"Why did you call me Thunderstruck?"

"<We didn't have anything to call you while you were unconscious...and you haven't offered a name for yourself either.>"

"It's fine, Thunderstruck is better than anything I've been called in the last year. You still didn't tell me why you chose that name."

"<Nate enjoys music. You're named after a song by the band AC/DC, but we spotted you after lightning lit up the night sky, and we saw you just before you got shot. By the time you hit the roof, thunder was rolling across the city and rain was hitting every exposed piece of rusty metal buildings and cars, plinking off cars and pooling up on the ground. When we got to you, most of the blood on your fur was wet from the rain enough to tell where the fresh wound was.>"

"I think I'll keep it for now. After waking up I felt like a completely different pony, and it took me a while to realize that it was you to thank. I didn't recognize myself. I feel like a new pony."

"<Then keep it. Stay sane.>"

\111/

Cracking his fingers, and stretching out his neck joints, Meathead checked the doppleganger Nate's appearance. Hopefully in the time they've been seperate, the original twin didn't take on too many scars.

Thunderstruck claimed the leather satchel for herself, and Meathead helped outfit the mare with weapons that were in working condition.

Loading up a bag with six Institute laser pistols and then energy cells into ammo box, they carried everything with them while walking to Goodneighbor.

\111/

Walking from the Constitution to Goodneighbor was quiet, which was exactly how both Meathead and Nate liked it.

"<I could tell you the history of every brick, nail, pebble, shard of glass, and grain of sand, who moved them, how they got there, where it was sourced from, how it was made, how it developed in nature, but it wouldn't make for much of a story.>" Meathead said to Thunderstruck.

The mare walked a pace behind him, "What do you mean?"

"<I'm not much of a storyteller, Thunder. I know my facts and history though. I...I don't have an inner monologue, it's like a TV broadcasting one channel, playing PLEASE STAND BY. Interspaced with the thought of DON'T DIE before switching right back to the same old station. I've never had a moment in my life ever where I was sure what would happen a week from now, a month, a year, ten years... I've never had that voice tell me what to do if I wanted something more. I was a dog. I was a changeling. I was everything anyone else needed me to be, and now that the world's gone quiet... Maybe I was a golem before I was a changeling, that turned into a dog, and possessed a human.>"

"<Don't Die is the message scrawled at the bottom of the barrel, and that's what I am. I know how you feel, Thunderstruck. I'll do what I can to help Cherry get through this, and maybe one day she'll come back. The difference between how I feel everyday of my life, and what Cherry is feeling, is the only one thing coming from her is the 'Please Stand By'. She's not's...she doesn't have 'Don't Die' playing for her. I'm sorry. I'll do whatever I can to make her feel happy, and sad, and angry, and guide her into feeling emotions again, but the will to live is more than an emotion, it's your soul.>"

\111/

The gang of Rythen's raiders in the mall next to Faneuil Hall spotted them, but did nothing to inhibit their path. They curiously eyed Thunderstrck who remained quiet under the gaze of the raiders. Instead, Meathead went to them with the laser pistols and the ammo, which they quickly distributed, or tried to horde. When they asked him why, he told them it was a to help keep the super mutants away.

Just as Meathead and Thunderstruck were about to leave, the most horrid, garish roar like a bear gargling a running chainsaw made everyone freeze.

Suddenly everyone was down on the ground. Meathead felt the creature before he heard it, which made sense now that the emotions were absolutely spastic and more hyperactive than a cornered rat.

There was deep thudding noises, like something big running and shaking the ground. The creature roared again, shorter, but it was louder and closer. There was cement cracking, bones of an animal breaking as it was slaughtered. The roar rose three octives into a pitch. Everyone could hear the creature ripping the flesh and crunching bones as it chewed through whole sections of the prey.

Meathead chanced a swallow, hoping not to be heard.

After a minute, the creature was slowing down on its ravenous feasting, and was panting now, satisfied, but its breath sounded like steam coming through a sewer grate.

With a fourth and final roar, it thundered off, bouncing across the ground faster than bull, and disappearing to the west.

Someone brave poked their head out and came back to say it was gone. The sigh of everyone's relief was audible, "<The hell was that?>"

"That. Was a starved Deathclaw. I don't know if you ever got the chance to watch one of those big scaly bastards, and not many people live to tell the rest of us about them, but to be that big, those things need to eat a lot. I bet'chin you anything that one hadn't had a good kill in a few weeks. Don't get them much, but now that it's into November, we'll be seeing a couple more of those. Luckily, you can usually hear them coming before they see you. Otherwise...well...you just see them coming."

The kill sight was two blocks over, and from the blood it appeared to have been a mirelurk, but there was hardly anything left. The deathclaw bit through whole sections of shell and ate the limbs whole. There were bite marks bigger than Nate's chest on the dome of the mirelurk's armor.

Getting to Goodneighbor, Meathead and Thunderstruck kept a sharp ear out, and a tab on the wild deathclaw until it ran so far, that it completely disappeared from his senses.

You can't reason with starvation.

\111/

Next Chapter: Ch. 62 Malden Estimated time remaining: 16 Hours, 33 Minutes