Ch. 85

\111/

“So what do you want to do with her? She's your Princess.” Deacon asked Meathead.

“<Well, I'd rather she not get looted for parts, so I'm thinking of taking her North to the Constitution or Concord, but the Railroad might be interested in her, since she is the only model like this around.>”

“When do you feel like heading up that way?”

“<Today,>” Meathead said, “<I still need to deal with one last mutant, but you need to get that data and everything else you know back to the Railroad. We'll all go together North, but break off in two groups. You and the Princess, Hancock and myself.>”

“Trying to get rid of me? Nah, I know you're not, but why the split?”

“We spanked those Gunners really good last night,” Hancock said, ignoring the fact that he was Johnny-come-lately. “...And they're not going to forget anytime soon. Which is why when they feel strong enough, they'll come for the Atom Cats with everything they've got. So we need to move fast and stick it to them everywhere we can at once to make sure they know it's all over. Their gang, their ambitions, their dreams, and anything they hope to find in the Commonwealth, will be the death of them.” Hancock said, “Fuck the Gunners, and Fuck them Good. Their days of looting the Commonwealth are over. I've had it with them, Deacon. Had it. Had it. HAD IT! I've known you were on the Gunner's shitlist long before I even met you, you know that? I ever tell you that? There were so many Gunners at the Third Rail pissing on about you. Well, you hear the story so many times, and so many different ways it starts to sound like the same guy. These guys hate you, and I don't have to put up with any more of their bullshit because I'm tired of listening to them, and tired of looking at them. Their shit ends, Deacon, so when you do go back towards Goodneighbor, you let my boys know that I've had it up to *here* with them, and it's time for the Gunners to hit the curb. I'm declaring open season on them. You get the Princess back to a castle, and spread the word about what you know. We'll be right behind you,"

“Heck of an order, but I'll let the Watch know.”

“<That and we've got a courser to track down,>”

“Right, I still need to get the message back to base about Ticon too.” Deacon said, biting back the fact it was more bad news for the Railroad.

“My current appearance is that suited to your Halloween celebration...” the Princess said, slowly frowning as she looked down at herself, “Although the Emulation Information Network Satellite Tether External Interface Node, is telling me that the festivities are over a week past. So, I suppose a change in appearance is in order. Something more accommodating to the current season?”

“The Atom Cats can get you all redone up for the next holidays, but you'll have to wait since they're busy for the next week out.”

“Being Princess means needing assistance recording all the exploits, interactions, and adventures I go on over the years, and EINSTEIN helps with that. Tell me, what are your names? And are you my new companions?”

“<Meathead,>”

“Deacon.”

“John Hancock the Second.”

“Meathead? You're the one who found her.”

“<I don't think hot-rod flames will suit her.>” Meathead sarcastically replied lately to Deacon, looking up to the human. “<Yes. I will be your new companion.>”

"What are you kidding me? Absolutely, hot-rod flames." Hancock said.

“Do you have a home designation or straight to companion mode?” Princess Nightmare Moon asked.

“Wait, I wouldn't mind showing her off around the Railroad first,” Deacon said.

“<Fine by me, eventually I want her at Sanctuary Hills when you're done. Either I'll take her that way myself, or end up there.>”

“Straight to companion mode,” Deacon said, he somewhat expected this, but it felt only slightly tedious among the charming tone Princess Luna put out under her Nightmare Moon outfit.

“You're right, but I think maybe some Changeling holes and stiff haircut look might actually suit her better.” Deacon said. “What kind of robot are you?”

Power surged into her horn from the welling-uprising of noise from her power core generators, and wings fanning open to lift her off the ground slightly.

“I am the 4^th generation of Atomatoys Robotic companions, but I was specially designed for flight, and magic capabilities. My Creator Arlen Glass worked alongside Equestrians to transfer memories and personalities of their Princesses into me. My role is to be a leader among ponies and rally inspiration when spirits are low in morale.”

“Well then your attitude and morale will be much greatly appreciated with some people I know, Princess. You'll make plenty of friends where we're going,” Deacon said.

“Oh... Damn...” Hancock said, as if remembering something important.

“<What? What'd you forget?>”

“Bosco.”

“<Who's Bosco?>”

“Raider bitch next in line after the Combat Zone. Damn, I wasn't thinking about it, I was just happy to see that place catch fire, and see that damn place in smoke, but son-of-a-bitch! I wasn't thinking about where all those damn rats would run off to!”

“<You're talking about the raiders?>”

“Yeah, the Regulars at the Combat Zone. It would've been the crowds that were outside, they're all going to go scampering off down the road to Bosco's school. He took over a school just down the road from the Combat Zone.” Hancock swore to himself again, realizing the power vacuum he created.

“That's why I always told myself that place needed to be brought down on a full night. Get all of them at once. But no...We got Bosco to deal with now next time we try and get through Downtown.”

“<So, what's his deal?>”

“He's a worse-off type that attacks most who come his way, steal their shit, beat's you up, and then leave for dead. But, the school he's in has a big gymnasium and pool below ground. I know for a fact they held fight pits down there in the pool long before the Combat Zone ever got their act organized. Mutants messed Bosco's gang up pretty good, Combat Zone got it's shit together, drove Bosco back a little bit. Now I just started thinking about last night. The rats scattered and regrouped back in the South Boston Tech School...” Hancock said, knowing most of the neighborhoods and groups, it only occurred to him now that it wouldn't take long for raiders to migrate to a new watering hole or stage to start fights up again. Bosco's happened to be the closest, and largest that could accommodate the influx of raiders now idly waking up to the realization that their fight-bar burned to the ground.

“Now I imagine he's escalated to attacking, stealing, abducting, forcing people to fight, and then leaving for dead.”

“<Well, now more people are going to join his gang. Which puts us at some crossroads, gentlemen.>”

Deacon, Hancock, and the robotic Princess all looked to Meathead, “<We need more people, because the three of us, even in Power Armor, just don't make up the manpower needed to cover areas and tracks of land that every raider, robot, creature, and mutant's got their eye on. Deacon, the Railroad's split in two, literally, and it sounds like you're barely squeaking on by in terms of numbers. I need to speak with Thunderstruck who told me about an offer that will help us.>”

"What's the deal?"

"Nate and I fight the leader of Nuka-World for the title of Overboss of their gangs."

“That sounds like there's a lot of strings attached to that deal,” Hancock said cautiously, “Wouldn't expect much, even if you won.”

“And dealing with this many raiders on this kind of scale is risky, Meathead. You can fool some of the people some of the time, but you can't fool all of the people, all of the time. This is insane. from the stories I've heard coming from there in the last year, it's not anywhere you want to be, especially you if you're a whole love-bug. The vibe I'm told from there is a lot more rapey-murdery. And how come you're willing to go after this Overboss, and not Rage?"

“<It's something I'd be doing with Nate, but I need the Railroad in place to take up positions in the gang there. You're right, even if we won, we would have a lot of shoring-up that needs to be done. It's a big boat with plenty of holes, but we're all in it. Thunderstruck told me how she and other ponies were used to build the arena and pathways leading up to Nuka-World, She can get us in, but it would be up to Nate and specifically myself to be able to get close enough and kill the bastard with my magic when he's not paying attention. That is what I intend to do, Deacon. There's a difference between Rage and the Overboss is because while Rage is trying to keep himself from being killed, this leader of the raider gangs I can practically feel his all the shit he's been keeping a tight lid on bubbling up on the other side of those foothills filling up like a boiling pot spilling over into the Commonwealth. That's the difference, Deacon. We did just get the interest of the Institute and The Gunners, and rile up a herd of raiders by burning down their favorite fight club and bar, we've done all the kicking the hornets nest Boston can take for now. It's time to let the swarms die down before we get ourselves killed. It may feel calm now, but I can feel a change in the air that's going to hit hard. I'd say it's time to get going, Deacon. We'll see you at the Third Rail or otherwise, yeah? Cheers?>”

"Yeah, Cheers." Deacon said, turning to Princess Nightmare Moon and taking the forked road leading along the coastline heading back North.

“Where we headed to next?”

“<The mutant Rage is in a place called Shaw, but if I'm feeling this right, and remember correctly, we'll have a pretty good vantage point in a town a mile East from there called Jamaica Plain.>”

\111/

“Go on! Beat it! You inbred half-brains,” Hancock shouted at the herd of ghouls he was pushing his way through. He held a pistol to one's forehead as two more lumbered close to him “You're lucky I don't shoot you all right now. But if I did, then I would-- I swear I outta...!” Hancock wore himself down to mumbling insults at the crowd of feral ghouls, and any that chose to wander too close to him as he waited for Meathead to finish surveying the valley. Hancock stared down one, looking into its beady, black and grey eyes, then pretended to throw a fist, stopping inches from the ghouls face, 'err,' he grumbled.

But all the response he got was a half-rotten stare and a wheeze from the zombie-like feral jawing its mouth.

“Fucking ferals. I can't believe this is what I get to look forward to; Son of a bitch.” He said, shoving one in the back, forcing it out of his way. “Hey, Meat!” He shouted, spotting the Changeling up in Jamaica Plain's church belfry. His focus was on a super mutant stronghold a mile away, the town of Shaw.

Somewhere in between a massive shopping department store, Milton General Hospital, and Shaw High School was Fist's second in command, a mutant named Rage.

“<I'm not liking what I'm seeing!>” Meathead shouted back. The crowd of ghouls swung their heads up to Meathead, trying to track the noise. A few moaned and others shuffled towards Hancock, so he softened his voice.

“Yeah? Well? Spit it out!” Hancock yelled out to Meathead. While he was waiting he drew out his knife and waved it towards the semi-conscious ghouls.

“I'm warning you, beat it.” Hancock said, threatening the ferals. Meathead counted off mutants, shaking his head.

Making karate poses and imitating kung-fu noises as he hacked the knife towards the feral ghouls, he purposefully withheld himself from stabbing into the mindless over-radiated creatures.

It was a test of wills and endurance to see how long he could get away with his carnal fun before stabbing or nicking a ghoul with his knife.

“Hiya- Ki, Yah, Ha! Hoy-ha! Dah- da- da- da- da!”

They were oblivious to Hancock's musings and boredom.

“<Super Mutants on sentry. Not aimlessly wandering around, but actually on sentry. Patrols, groups of two and three moving from one side of the town to the other in shifts. The whole town is crawling with Super-Mutants. Even with the Atom Cats, this would be one hell of a fight just to find the bastard. I count at least twenty on the streets alone, and can sense dozens more. There's definitely holdouts in the school, the department store, and I sense life forms going way down underground too...ghouls underground maybe? Hard to tell from this far. Hospital is the only spot that's quiet, but there's gotta be something there keeping them out. Probably bots. Getting to Rage is going to be...less than fun I'd say.>”

“Well? How 'bout it? I herd up these ghouls-” One feral bumped into Hancock, which he quickly struck with the butt of his pistol across the face, bloodying the shambling ghoul, sending it sprawling onto the ground, “I said beat it!”

Exhaling, he shouted up to Meathead again, “And then we dangle some meat on a stick, and use them as meatshields to lure the big guy out?”

All around Hancock, he was standing in a crowd of ferals, thirty mindlessly wandering the streets, with dozens more all tucked away in corners.

“<Not right now. It's a good plan, but this is going to take some coordination and effort. Sending all these ferals in would just be like sending them through the meatgrinder. It'd draw the mutants attention, but wouldn't finish the job. They've got too much going for them, too many guns on their side. Road's narrow down too and blocked off with cars and cement barriers, so sending them sprawling down the road wouldn't do much either except pen them in towards a kill field they've got set up.>”

“Then how about we put a pin in Rage for now? Circle back in a week? The Cat's said they'd have armor for us ready by then. They got the scrap and the cores, they're already banging away.”

<Some good power armor would help. That and I don't know how to use power armor.>” Meathead said.

“It's like holding up a fat chick while making love; Punishing on the back and knees, but a little forgiving because of how much cushion she has,”

“<Thank you, Hancock, for that useful information.>” Meathead said, closing his eyes and shaking the image away.

Meathead could hear Hancock laughing, "Hey Meat! Check it out!"

Holding one feral ghoul that didn't have any teeth, "Suckie, Suckie! I'll let you have her for five dollars!" Hancock shouted.

"<Girls like that is why your dick fell off a long time ago, Hancock! You've got nothing but a mangled stump and dried up roots!>"

"Hey! I gotta dick!"

"<Just hold on, I'm almost done.>"

Rummaging through his pockets, Hancock grabbed another cigarette and lit it. Sighing, he couldn't imagine what route Meathead was planning on getting to or finding Rage. The changeling was what you could consider functioning, but even after resting, even Hancock could tell the bug needed something a little more fulfilling than nights on the open road with him.

"<Jeesh he turns into an old man pervert with the attitude of a child the moment he's left alone for more than five seconds...>" Meathead said to himself, "<Wait...how old is Hancock?>"

It dawned on him, "<He IS an old man pervert! Dressing up in costume at his age...why did I never see it before?>"

Wandering back and forth, pacing the streets, Hancock rolled his head back and coughed. Spitting twice, he moaned out a breath of smoke.

His eyes wandered up to one of the billboards around the town. “See the Treasures of Jamaica Plain.”

“Hey, Meat! You ever hear about this before the Big War? The Treasure of Jamaica Plain?”

Meathead's eyes rolled back, trying to remember to a month ago when everything around him didn't look blown to bits. He could recall the advertisements, even a few commercials on TV. “<It...It was...a museum! A...Baseball museum.>”

“A what?”

“<Baseball memorabilia! Famous Ball players! Their gear! Jerseys! Baseball bats! Signed photos! Catcher's mitts.>”

“Oh,” Exhaling a puff, “Well? You wanna check it out?”

Meathead sighed, changing into a mutant wasn't like disguising himself as a human or pony and slipping into their society. There was a certain smell to them, like dogs who marked their territory.

As much as he could walk like a mutant, talk like a mutant, but he wasn't diversified enough as a skilled infiltrator to go in and find Rage. Big Mack seemed to be aware on a higher level of his surroundings, and the signs of this much organization spoke volumes that Rage was much more intelligent to have guards posted around the town.

He supposed he could slip in, find Rage, and back stab him much like before. But, that exposed him to getting into a fight with the other mutants, and leaving him surrounded on all sides. Even if he were to teleport out, that still left the question of why and how Rage, Fist, and the others were gaining levels of conscious that rivaled the others. He needed to find the source of their intelligence.

The packets of drugs and mentats gave some indication as to how Big Mack gained his intelligence, if only temporarily, but information gathering and assassination wasn't his most developed skillset. Having spent the majority of his life as a German Shepherd, it took time to learn how to become and act like a dog, it was part of him and the only role he knew how to play better than anything else. In the few weeks since emerging from Vault 111, his skills in that field quickly became limited with how little emotion he'd been able to sustain himself on. From dog to assassin was a step up that even the best Changeling infiltrators at their best would be put to the test. There was no universal form he could take that was loved, and that was a realization that irked him the most. Many people outright feared canines and dogs, there were only a few people aside from Nate that didn't trust he was trained not to attack when first seeing him. Being a dog for so long was a crutch that he'd used, and now it left him hobbling along every where he went.

Heading into a group of angry, vengeful mutants only put pressure on him to act quickly.

Adding to the fact that the amount of weaponry needed to take on such a force of mutants, particularly a group this size was something that needed to be wiped out. It was a threat to all of South Boston with this many mutants.

He needed something to help focus his mind, and Hancock's offer sounded as good as any other place to start.

Meathead clicked his tongue, “<Yeah. Sounds good.>”

\111/

“So why do you want to take control of these robots?” Leighla asked Thunderstruck.

“Nate's got a deal of some kind set up with the local raider clan. Before you get too riled up, know that they already owe Nate a favor, and as of now, we're even with them. There's a road next to the Red Rocket Pit stop that turns South and goes all the way to the front door of these raiders at the Federal Ration Stockpile. We give them tribute voluntarily. We're the ones showing up at their door, instead of them pounding down our doors, demanding everything we have. That makes things stay always on our terms. If, and when they get around to watching us build ourselves up, then they're going to demand a larger tribute. Red may hold up her end of the bargain, I don't know her or can say anything about her except for Nate will do everything in his power to keep people like Red from ever thinking about getting near us. Even with those two agreeing, there's still raiders too dumb and too far in between Nate and Red to do something like attack us or raid us for no good reason. That's why Nate's trying to blot Sanctuary Hills off the map until it's strong enough to hold it's own. And the only way for us to do that, is to take over the Mechanist's workshop. It's the only way to rapidly expand and build our defenses up that quickly before Red's Raiders even get a chance to take a second glance. It's what Nate told me he wants.”

“You don't know who you can trust yet, damn raiders, can't trust them as far as you can throw them.” Cait said.

“And to the ones I can throw, I still don't trust that much,” Thunderstruck said.

“Aye, that's what 'ah just said,” Cait replied, feigning annoyance.

“Every day, instead of fighting robots, we could have them programmed to be on our side. I want to line the streets like old lamp-posts, the roads, the stretches of land from the factory, all the way to Sanctuary Hills doorstep, and then from there we spread out across every single inch of the Commonwealth until there is not a single raider clan, or warlord who would even dare step foot towards our homestead without having to pass by ten thousand robots all trained and aimed, ready to shoot. Crimony! I want to hit the Commonwealth so hard it wont even know what happened.” Thunderstruck said,

“We bit angry at a former lover, are yah?” Cait said, always egging on the situation, seeing what would cause Thunderstruck to be pulled into a fight. She could see the hairs on the back of Thunderstruck's neck stand up, part of her mane stiffen too, but this was a different type of anger.

She realized why and also couldn't imagine standing why Nate or Meathead would want this woman around, with a motor-mouth like that, always wanting to pick a fight, it must be tiring being Cait, always being on edge.

“I honestly wish I had a stud, or some stallion to buck me senseless every night, but I don't. I would kill for a good lay...but that doesn't necessarily make it so. Now, I'm trying to keep you and a group of my friends from getting slaughtered. This is playing for keeps, we get that factory, and then.... as long as we... build things up...nice...and quietly...” Thunderstruck said, still seeing all the details fall into place, she realized that this would be more of a attention grabber than she realized.

“So where is this factory? What's it called?” Cait asked.

“It's a factory in East Boston. All the robots made there are coming from a pre-war company called General Atomics. When you get closer, you can make out their smoke stacks and steam coming up from the factory. It's cool enough at night to be able to see them at production, and you can hear them if you're close.”

“Then let's go claim another piece of the Commonwealth for ourselves then,” Leighla said,

“Aye, let's go sling crap at this dumb grease monkey. Whoever's putting these bots together is about to get a all-night beatdown, stompin' most their teeth in, bloody them with baseball bats, pull the pull on their fancy toys, and after that I'll really use my imagination,” Cait said, sensing a fight coming, she looked out towards the south and down the road, staring hungrily at the Commonwealth.

“Love the enthusiasm, Cait,” Thunderstruck said with a level voice.

\111/

“Holy Hardware, Meathead. You think they put enough lasers in the tunnel?” Hancock asked.

Their side-stepping to the Jamaica Plain time-capsule was as easy as following the old signs down to an antiquated museum dedicated to Pro-Baseball Atheletes, with special note of any Boston Red Socks, and the recently claimed 2076 World Series Championship Bat, the game-winning bat that scored the final point, along with the game-winning baseball. While entering the old building wasn't of any issue, the security spent on the old memorabilia was clearly beyond excessive.

With a single sign and arrow pointing the pair down a long hallway, separating them from a bunker of old baseball gear were 40 lasers spanning up and down like a grid wall, and deactivated laser turrets waiting for anything to set off the sensor like a strong breeze or large speck of dust. The walls were humming with electrical panels that made both of them weary to approach the corridor any further.

Hancock had seen this type of lasers security before, but not much and at this high of a caliber in a long time, he was afraid to breathe too hard and set the temperamental systems off.

“<Well, time to find the keys.>”

“That or the off switch. Gotta be a power supply to pull around here somewhere.” Hancock said,

While not the first to try and enter the Jamaica Plain Museum, it was by pure chance Meathead and Hancock made it that far without running into any issues. The group before them were drawn to the 'Treasures of Jamaica Plain' advertisements, to 'come see these magnificent treasures before being sealed off forever!' met unfortunate fates of being attacked by the feral ghouls, and succumbing to the old security system.

\111/

Next Chapter: Ch. 86 Whole Lotta Rosie Estimated time remaining: 7 Hours, 21 Minutes