Oh-La! Head Cha-La, you guys!

Dark hair, insatiable appetite and thirst, goes around picking fights with the toughest people you know, and comes back stronger? Hmmm....How have I not realized this before... Nate is clearly an anime protagonist.

Getting to the Boston Common without being seen by synth-crows was impossible, all the way from South Boston, Deacon was spotted with a black Alicorn in tow.

Corroborating images, comparing them to the still frame from South Boston University, to the black figure with Deacon, with no other figures to go off of, the Institute's focus was shifted to Deacon and Princess Nightmare Moon.

It was when Deacon heard a crow's caw he suddenly jerked his head and remembered the flying cameras existed, after not seeing one for days.

From that point on, he guided the Princess on a winding route away from the Boston Common.

All around him, he could feel their stares bearing down into the back of his head. As much as he didn't want to think about it, ever since he learned about the synth-crows, he's been aprehensive about any murders bunched together. Blocking out the background noises, it was difficult enough to watch for any other threats around, but to hear a noise so specific made him react instantly with a weapon up and ready to fire.

It was the sound of heavy footsteps, boots, but someone intentionally making loud steps as they walked.

Not too loud either, but just enough to be heard if you happened to hear that noise before. Deacon shuddered and told the Princess to get down, as a synth-courser walked right into Deacon's line of sight wearing a long thick leather duster, thick pads across the chest, legs, arms, and stomach area, wielding a plasma rifle and a pistol. Z2-47 was the same courser that hunted down the Railroad operatives in the Switchboard, and Deacon recognized the synthetic look and freshness of an Institute agent straight off the factory line.

Only, Deacon was able to clearly see it as much as he was able to sense that the crows had closed in on him, regardless of what he had tried to do that day. When he saw the Courser's silhouette, he knew without a doubt this thing wasn't human in the slightest. The air burned too much, like the Institute was already building up a teleportation sphere that crackled and split the air with energy. It was a premonition and cold-sweats that made Deacon know that this man, as far away as he was, was a threat.

“Fuck you.” Deacon said, face and tone of voice suddenly screwing up and emotion burning through. This was the same Courser that shot his way through the Switchboard, killing over a dozen Railroad agents, and now here he was walking in broad daylight, as if this was expected to happen, like he knew Deacon and Nightmare Moon would be here.

Deacon's heart and brain suddenly felt like they were on fire, blood pumping to an extremely high pressure as it hurt to breathe or even move. Lifting his legs and arms to move felt like ripping through muscle tendons, but he blurted out a swear and threw himself into the fight.

They both started firing at the same time.

Princess Nightmare Moon didn't react until Deacon was already three steps away, firing his second wild shot across the park.

Deacon didn't know if he could make it to Park Street Station, his only way cut off by the Courser blocking them. Retreating meant failure of a different type, especially since this machine was programmed to continue hunting, tracking, and narrowing down traces of his enemy until they were eliminated or captured.

While Z2-47 was targeting the dark Nightmare Moon Model, he examined the pony with it's distinguishing features and concluded that the pony from the videos and this one were similar, at 85% similarity. The only final test was to compare its magical capabilities to the event in South Boston University, and the Institute would have its answer.

Deacon firing his fifth rifle shot from 100 meters finally struck the Courser in the chest, but struck the protective armor and clothing, bullet pattering to the ground.

“I need a bigger gun,” Deacon said, lining up his ironsights to aim for the Courser's head. Three more shots, and one struck the Courser in the skull, scraping the skin, barely denting from a direct hit and definintely not a glancing blow.

Before the Courser even registered Deacon as a plausible threat, he already fired off the 19 rounds from his rifle and jerked the whole gun to the side, using gravity and inertia to fling the spent magazine from the gun as he loaded another round of bullets. Deacon was moving up the side of the street towards Park Street Station, hoping that any of the Railroad's lookouts were aware of the situation above, and that someone might come up from Vault 114.

If they knew it was a Courser though, the same order to lock the doors and hide was going out as well, meaning he was stuck out here on the surface with a Princess and a killer robot and no backup.

Running to Goodneighbor wasn't the best course of action either, there was no telling if this Courser was going to stop, and the long game of stand-off and will-they, wont-they was going to be pushed if Deacon sought refuge there either. The threat of the Institute sending in a couple killer robots was always a threat, but nobody wanted to accidentally or unwillingly make that threat a reality.

“Princess! He killed my friends!”

Deacon was carrying the UP-77 strapped to his back, and was worried using it in battle would give away it's secret existence only after they covered up the last traces of it.

Another activation phrase for EINSTEIN, and Princess Nightmare Moon's personality instantly shifted from lax to deadly serious.

The Z2-47 was carrying an Enchanted Plasma Rifle, and while Deacon shots were getting more accurate the more confident he grew in battle against Z2-47, the same pittance of damage was like shooting peanuts at a tank.

When Z2-47 rose his own rifle to fire a shot, the weapon took a moment to charge up, the coils becoming distinctly audible, and casing glowing green and then scalding white-hot. He wasn't aiming at Deacon, but at Nightmare Moon.

Nightmare Moon watched as the blast was fired, creating a halo of light and disrupting the ground around the Courser as the single green bolt of plasma energy radiated across the Boston Common like a miniature sun, scorching the dirt and concrete with boring out chunks of the earth.

Nightmare Moon summarized that the gate entryway around her was her undoing, that she let her guard down when taking an obvious entrance instead of flying or teleporting in, but her defensive instincts kicked in, armor sliding over her mane and skull, protecting her horn in battle-ready protection.

With only a few seconds to calculate the rate of speed, and ready a counterstrike, Nightmare Moon's horn lit up brightly as the first of her two fusion cores went to work. As the plasma bolt came within striking distance, she pointed her horn down as it glowed wildly blue with energy and knocked the entire energy ball away. It lit up the Boston skyline like a green firework for only a moment before striking a up through the creeping clouds, hitting a skyscraper several blocks away, and blasting a gaping melting hole in the iron and concrete supports. Smoke wafted up from the building as it gently swayed from impact.

“Hmpf,” Nightmare Moon snorted, flaring her wings as the second of her Fusion Cores kicked into gear. “Prepare to face the wrath of a Equestrian Princess, for I am Princess Nightmare Moon!”

Warping a large ball of blue energy above her horn, she aimed it at the Courser and shouted, “Energy Blast!”

The Courser deftly dodged, sensing the large ball of energy incoming and recognizing the danger. “Hmm...Magical Capabilities apparent, let's see how much you can muster!”

Z2-47 fired waves of short plasma bolts, Nightmare Moon's horn glowed brightly emitting a blue aura as the blasts were redirected or batted away. A corona of energy surrounded her like a shield as she flew closer to strike at the Courser at close range.

As Nightmare Moon was about to strike, she aimed her magic on the ground beneath the Courser's feet. Launching the grass, pavement, concrete and dirt a meter up into the air, "Telekenetic Burst!" she shouted. The Courser wasn't able to react as the flying metal Princess slammed her hoof directly into his chin while he was still flying mid-air.

"Iron Hoof!"

Careening him across the Boston Common, he skipped across the ground twice, rolling and into the brick wall surrounding the park where he impacted, leaving behind spidering cracks in the crater. The Courser dragged himself back up to his feet, only more determined now to capture the Princess unit.

“You will be forced to recompense the Institute for hampering me from my goal,” Z2-47 said, pulling himself up.

“You and what army?” Nightmare Moon asked, charging up for another energy blast, the Courser braced, but instead her magic twisted, lashing out like a lasso around a cement trash can bolted into the ground, ripping it from the bolts like a broken twig, and flinging it like a slingshot right at the Courser's side, smashing Z2-47 across the park again.

The can crumbled into mortar dust, the Courser was restalled, but quickly learning how to deal with this situation.

“This one,” The Courser said,

In the blink of an eye, six Institute synths appeared, the barrage of laser blasts came from all directions now, slipping past Nightmare Moon's defenses and boring black pocketmarks in her armor and side.

Deacon saw that while his bullets barely touched the Courser, the robots he summoned were meant to distract and complicate the battlefield as they ran straight for Nightmare Moon with no regards to themselves. Taking a firing position on one knee, Deacon fired and fired, gunning down three synths with a single barrage before needing to reload. They still weren't on him, targeting the Princess Model who charged up her horn and arrows of light lanced out, striking the other synths, but the Courser seemingly vanished.

Deacon suddenly felt a lancing hot stab of pain as he couldn't see the Courser standing over him until it was too late. The Courser was in possession of a built-in Stealth Boy. Winking out of existence, Deacon was unaware of the electric baton slamming into his head, knocking him down to the ground with a spit-take of his own blood.

Z2-47 managed to bash Deacon right in the cheek with the electric baton, making his teeth and lips bleed as his head spun and burned, sorting through colors as his head hit the street's pavement. Nightmare Moon leapt, wings fanning, she soared across the ground and came to attack the Courser, but he instead created a blinding burst of light by taking one of the ruined synths, and detonating their energy cores.

While on their own, they were like giant capacitors, still capable of holding a charge of electricity, but apply too much pressure, and like a battery, it'll explode with a burst of chemical lightning formed when gases and minerals react volatile to when exposed.

The bright burst of canned lightning burned brighter than a miniature sun for less than a second, allowing the Courser to slip away into invisibility once again.

Suddenly struck at the neck, Nightmare Moon lashes out in all directions, but can't pick up any trace of the Courser again.

“You can't hit me,” the Courser said as he laid into the Princess Model with tremendous force fueled punches. The springs and weight capacitors launching the pistons behind each thrust of the fist was like hydraulic sledgehammers for hands, capable of bashing through almost anything given enough pummeling.

Nightmare Moon was struck again in the face, the head, the neck, the shoulders and collar. Blasting waves of energy, she couldn't determine where the Courser was until she finally closed her eyes and charged her next attack.

Deacon could make out the Courser's shadow on the ground, how there was a outline of him in the air. Pulling for his laser pistol, he aimed for the Courser's legs. The Courser danced around Nighmare Moon, inflicting punishing blows. Deacon blasted at the Courser's heels and shins, hoping the armor would be thinner around the joints. Laser pistols didn't have any recoil whatsoever, so it was all by count that he had to keep track of how many energy cells left in a battery before being drained. Fancier models had a diode number indicator, or LED. Simple ones lacked everything else.

The disruption caused the Stealth-Boy's field to slip for only a moment, letting Nightmare Moon break the Courser's assault on her and counterstrike. Horn glowing vibrant blue, her hooves were coated in the shimmering magic aura. Turning to buck the Courser, she struck him with her rear hooves.

He threw up his arms, crossing them in defense as the magically powered kick bashed the Courser head over heels, leaving hoof shaped impact indents in the synth's metal arms.

The Courser knew only relentless determination was his only purpose.

Deacon saw the Courser stand up yet again, and fired away with his laser pistol, seeing that it burned much more effectively against the synth's skin than a kinetic bullet.

Nightmare Moon took to the air, reaching ten meters before diving at Z2-47. Magic flaring again, she was about to impact the Courser into a crater below the street until he suddenly vanished.

Coming to a skidding halt on the ground, Nightmare Moon lost sight of Z2-47.

The invisible Courser saw Deacon cutting in again, and responded immediately before Nightmare Moon struck, activating his built in Stealth-field, he was sprinting across the open ground to strike Deacon with all the force his own metal fists could build up.

The blow nearly would've killed Deacon if he hadn't recognized the bare outline of the Courser, and knew what he was up against. Firing a fast burst of laser rounds, he saw the Courser coming for him and stepped back right as Z2-47 swung. The punch still collided, forcing Deacon to take three steps back, but he managed to spare his own life.

“Oh, you're cutting in. I thought I recognized you. You're one of the ones that ran away and kept running while I was gunning down your friends. Come back to die the same way? Can't you humans just go drink radioactive water until you die? It saves us so much effort than having to craft ways to keep killing all you surface dwellers.”

“I'm not going to let you get away this time.” Deacon said.

“And here I thought I was the one who let you get away, Deacon. Run scampering off, leaving trails stained with piss and tears, the shit of humans and liars, all the way back to your nests. You think you can get me to back off, Deacon? That you're going to be the one who wins this? Think again, we're going to purge you and your whole resistance. It begins with your suffering and ends with your death.”

To further the wicked point, the Courser rushed at Deacon, knocking him to the ground. Z2-47 kicked Deacon in his stomach, launching him through the air and crashing onto the hood of a car fifteen feet away, Deacon moaned and looked around, dragging himself off to roll down away onto the far side, away from battle, giving him cover.

“Let's see you dodge this!” Nightmare Moon declared, with a corona of energy expanding outwards from above her horn, it struck the Courser and picked him up, throwing him backwards away from Nightmare Moon.

Deacon was crawling to his knees, trying to drag himself up to the sidewalk or something he could rest his back against for a moment to take stock of his own damage, and survey the battlefield. He ached for a stimpak.

He was sitting in front of the Massachussettes State Court House, he realized. He was past the Park Street Station entrance, and could practically feel the Railroad's lookout eyes peeking out through cracks in the brickwork, “Come on you bastards, show a little leg!” Deacon complained, expecting a show of force from his own team.

Nightmare Moon redoubled her attack on the Courser, after making the one advantage for her, she was pressing it by bucking and blasting at Z2-47, but the Courser was able to block the blows, or throw much faster, targeted punches against Nightmare Moon. The trade-offs were the Princess was built like a Tank, and the Courser made like an Assaultron, one was durable and powerful, slightly slower than the Courser, but built and programmed by Arlen Glass to be a sympathetic companion and battle robot, while the Courser was swift, fast, and invisible, crafty and programmed by the Institute's most devious.

As they were now, both the Princess Model and Courser were at even odds, trading blows and trying to blast through their defenses with pure kinetics, bringing the fight to a standstill. Deacon tried to create holes in the Courser's defense for Nightmare Moon to punch through, but every time he got close, the Courser responded by nearly beating him to death. He was after the Princess after all, Deacon realized.

Wiping his eyes, it felt like dirt or grease got into them, but it was sweat and tears mixed in as well that made Deacon's eyes water.

He looked for the sun, slowly getting blocked out by a wall of fog and clouds descending down onto the city.

Twin doors to the State House opened, then down three flights of long stairs to the sidewalk, then to the street Nate approached.

The most bizarre architecture design for the long steps was the length of distance between stepping down, you would hear three-steps, then a pause, followed by a louder drop of a person stepping down to a lower step, then three more foot-falls, proceeded by a fourth louder clomp that got louder and louder if you were standing there at the bottom and someone was coming down the steps to the State House.

Having spotted Deacon from inside the building, he was already on his way outside when Deacon came to a pause there on the side of the road.

“Deacon?” Nate asked, “Need a stimpak?” He asked, unzipping a little pouch on his thigh and pulled out a stimpak in red-packaging, still factory-sealed.

“Nate? What are you doing here? How are you here?”

“Never mind that, the heck's going on here? Fill me in.”

“The pony toy is yours, the fashion disaster in the full-length leather trench-coat in broad daylight is the Institute's. That and he fucking killed my friends... I shoulda said that first... So, kick his ass, Nate... Ow... and...we need the computer chips in head...so don't break that...Also. What the fuck happened to your arm?”

"I jerked off too much, and the masturbation fairy came down and cursed me. He told me to watch out or I might rip my dick off."

Tossing the stimpak to Deacon, he fumbled with the packaging and bit through the plastic to get the injector free. 'The heck did you get a factory-fresh stimpak?' he thought to himself, looking up to Nate who seemed to somehow be everywhere at once and always prepared. Even after seeing the trick with Meathead, seeing Nate here now, Deacon was still having a hard time these two were so similar yet moved differently.

“Don't worry, I'll handle it.” He said, looking across the Common to the Courser. Balling up his Deathclaw fist, he exhaled and let the fingers relax. The sharpest points being the tips, Nate sized up his claw versus the Courser.

Yesterday he tore through the casings of power armor, and disemboweled a super mutant, now he would be testing his claws against the most advanced synthetic machine the Institute ever produced.

Deacon nodded, Nate looked up at Nightmare Moon slamming both hooves into Z2-47's head, blasting energy blasts point blank to burn the face away, but lacking the force to go the next step and break through the Courser's armor completely.

To deal with threats, the Courser would divide and conquer, distracting the stronger threat to eliminate the weaker one,

Charred blasts left exposed gaps in the metal all across the Courser's body, burning away parts of its skin and showing the hybrid of synthetic flesh and machine beneath. It's chest was all metal, but Nate swore he could see gaps through the ribs, and surely at the center, it's core.

When Z2-47 saw Nate enter the fray, stepping into the realm of being attacked, he quickly knew he needed to separate Nightmare Moon and the new human from being able to coordinate any attack.

Z2-47 changed the setting to the Enchanted Plasma Rifle, instead of a single bolt, a large round sphere of bubbling green plasma energy coalesced and beamed brightly at the tip of the rifle, growing powerfully large, he assessed the threat levels between the two, and their most appropriate responses, and aimed the beam at Deacon who was caught unaware.

The blast melted pavement, concrete and scorched the earth to glass where ever it passed over, Nightmare Moon saw the incoming blast and using all her energy to create a massive shield between herself and Deacon, Z2-47 knew that the old robot might've had the inkling to protect humans.

Throwing herself infront of the blast to shield Deacon, she knew that the corona of explosion would've wiped out several city blocks if she hadn't diffused most of the force with her own shield.

Blasted up back through the air, the sight of detonation was a melting crater as Nightmare Moon was launched six city blocks away from the Boston Common, smashing through buildings and rubble like a rocket powered wrecking ball. She blew through a hole in the Copper Dome as she hurled through the air.

Pulling herself from the rubble, she flew to return to battle.

“Hey, asshole. I just got that mint-condition out of the box.” Nate complained, catching Z2-47's attention. "And you went scratched it."

When Z2-47 charged up a Enchanted Plasma Blast against Nate, the Courser fired but then Nate caught the energy with his Deathclaw and crushed it, extinguishing the energy. Nate's whole body felt hot with excitement as he felt the sun's energy dissapate in his palm.

It was something he gambled on as well, but seeing as how Deathclaws were impervious to radiation, they were already naturally resistant to plasma-based weaponry. His left hand was definitely warm, like he just stuck his hand over a hot-fire for a second.

He'd played this game plenty of times growing up, and figured he could get pretty close to the fire before it burned his hand too badly.

“Not bad, Boy." Nate said condescendingly, "A few more years of experience with your 12Watt flashlight there in your hands, and your daddy might say you're experienced enough for a real toy-blaster.” Confidently shaking off the smoldering ashes in his palm.

Readying his fist, the Courser tried to ready another shot, Nate blocked the second as well, gritting his teeth as the blast was more focused. Waving the heat away, Z2-47 was about to fire a third shot, but Nate was on him with such speed and ferocity that the Course had no choice but to react. “Careful though, you'll shoot your eye out!”

Catching Nate's massive palm as it was about to rip the synth's head off took both hands to stop his momentum. Pushing Nate up off the ground, he threw Nate backwards, but Nate held onto the Courser as he tried to fling him away. Here's where the rest of Nate's agile body made it easy for him to wrestle a better position and get a better foot stance as the Courser struggled to repel him back.

The Courser came out swinging a long extended electrified baton that crackled with energy up and down the length of it. Striking Nate on the back, he shouted out in a pained cry as volts blasted up his spine.

Nate punched the Courser across the cheek with a massive balled up fist, sending the Courser sprawling against the ground. It was quick to hop back up and reorient itself. Raising his baton to strike again, Nate also reared back to attack.

With a perfect strike-on-strike, the Courser was ready to hit Nate with his baton, as Nate had his deathclaw swinging down through the air, talons ripping through the Courser's right bicep, shoulder muscles, shoulder joint, severing the arm off, down through the chest, slicing three long cuts through the Courser's spine, severing all motor function and responses to everything below the neck joint. The eviscerated into three large sections, the Courser's chest cavity was cleaved open with one swing as Nate shouted his rage and energy out in the mighty heave.

With a final pull, Nate ripped down through the Courser's hip joint, crippling and disabling the entire machine in one completely powerful swing. The left leg was completely ripped out of the ball and socket joint front the hip as Nate mangled Z2-47 in a single swipe.

The top torso was completely ripped away from the lower legs, spine warped and twisted, severed in half as the Courser's pieces fell to the ground.

“You'll shoot your eye out!” Nate shouted, Gripping Z2-47's skull, and wrapping his deathclaw around it, he pressed his left boot against the torso and jerked back. Ripping the head from the spinal chord, the Courser was mangled and defeated.

Nate had to go to Deacon, since he had only made it to a sitting up position before painfully getting back up onto his feet when he got closer.

“You'll shoot your eye out...” Deacon said, eyes searching for an answer, “What's that from?”

Nightmare Moon descended back down onto the pavement, greeting Deacon and Nate as she landed, observing that the threat was dealt with, she didn't have much to say.

“A Christmas Story,” Nate said, panting slightly from the quick workout. “Kid wants a BB gun for Christmas, he asks his friends, mom, dad, teachers, santa, everyone you could think of, it's all little Ralphie wants. He begs for it, dreams about it, writes letters and fan-mail about his obsession, but they all say the same thing.”

“You'll shoot your eye out?” Deacon asks.

“Yep.”

“So what happens?”

“Dear Ol' Reliable Dad relents, and gets him the rifle. It was supposed to be the touching moment of the story, how the little kid was left looking towards an underwhelming Christmas, then subverts it because he already gave up any hope of getting the BB gun that year.” Nate says.

“And so what does the kid do?” Deacon asks,

“He goes outside, fires a bb, and it ricochets back into his eye. To save himself from embarrassment, he lies about it.”

“What kinda story is that?”

“Just one of those things from the past, an anecdote, I suppose. Of course there's more to the story, but...the Institute...this obsession they have...” Nate turned up his giant deathclaw hand, and then opened up his regular hand with the other, he started laughing to Deacon. “It'd be pretty embarrassing for them if the Institute got everything they wanted and immediately shot themselves in the face...wouldn't it?” Nate said.

Deacon pondered it, "I guess so," then looked up at Nate's smile “But you just tore this thing apart with your bare hands, ripped it limb from limb,”

“By the way it looks to me, it looks like he shot himself,” Nate said, wiping off the synthetic blood sticking to his fingers.

Deacon started to laugh, “Nate! Ah! You're so strong now! What the heck happened to you? This was the Institute's top of the line tech. You! You... saw me fighting it? Bullets, lasers, nothing was getting through. Nate, what happened to you? Meathead showed us how you looked, but he and Hancock made it sound like you were hold up somewhere. Where've you been?”

“I wish, look at this thing, Deacon. Go ahead, feel it. This is the level of strength you need to finger a deathclaw pussy,” Nate said, letting Deacon touch his new arm, he instantly withdrew and pulled back.

"Ew. What's with all the jokes? Between you and Hancock, you're both neurotic!"

"Yeah! Probably! Haven't slept much, Deacon. I've had a long morning, and I see yours is going about the same as mine...so...where the heck can we find some grub around here? Tell me all about it after lunch, because all I know is that I've got one last thing to take care of inside the State House there, and then I'm walking towards anything edible, and that's the end of it. Everything else you tell me now is going over my head until I get some food in me.”

“Wait, we need to get the Courser body and Nightmare Moon into the Railroad, Nate. They have food! We have food down in Vault 114. In Park Street Station. We have lots of food.” Deacon said, seeing the hungry look in Nate's eyes, he had seen this all too well in dozens of other people, it was a all too common sight. People hit their energy walls and broke through it to keep going, but paid the price.

Deacon could see Nate was about ready to devour a brahmin whole, and moving everything down to the new Railroad HQ was something that needed to be done quickly.

"Two seconds, and I'll be with you," Nate said, walking back up towards the Copper Dome, "Two seconds!" He said quickly disappearing inside.

Deacon didn't notice Nate was carrying the Enchanted Plasma Rifle, but Deacon was picking up all the little bolts and pieces that were shorn off the Courser. Packing them together, Deacon didn't even notice Nate return, and looking up to the State House, he didn't notice anything either.

"What'd you do?"

"I wouldn't go in there anytime in the near future," Nate warned.

Sitting at the bottom of the sub-basement floor of the Mirelurk Den. Nate activated the EPR, then tossed it down the murder-hole. It was charging up a tremendous ball of energy, when it detonated, the entire sewer system turned to boiling steam, blasting steam up through the floors and basement, incinerating and cooking everything instantly in a thirty foot radius. The Mirelurk Queen and all the Mirelurks in the sub-basement, lower levels, sewer, and everything up to the first floor was instantly flash-steamed with a boiling wall of hot air. The explosion was a blast of air and heat blowing out all the remaining windows and plenty of debris, but the collapse of all the supports and tons of steel and cement sliding away was shuddering the ground and sending up big plumes of dust skyward.

Behind them, the whole Massachusetts State House building wobbled, then caved in on itself, the ceilings and walls falling in, the dome collapsing in a tremendously loud roar of collided tiles and supports. Walls finally falling outward, or sinking in, the whole building was a giant heap with a massive dustcloud the size of a skyscraper rising up through the city scape

\111/

Nightmare Moon returned mostly pristine. Her wings still functioned, power casing still intact, but as for her armor and shields, everything needed to be buffed out.

Cradling the Courser's skull in a bundle of rags, Nate carried the head, while Deacon sought out the Railroad's lookout Drummer Boy and Tinker Tom to help fetch Princess Nightmare Moon up in the Boston Common. Deacon was partially concerned about old energy charged capacitors and some kind of internal battery beaming the camera's audio and visuals back to the Institute, despite being visually thrashed and in-operative. He would feel safer if the Courser's head were wrapped in tinfoil until Tinker Tom had a full chance to disassemble the robot's head.

Pointing Nate towards the communal kitchens and dining area, it was hard to stop eating once he started.

Deacon took the Courser's head and lorded it like a trophy, ecstatic that he finally saw the end to one of these machines that caused so much trouble for them.

“Tink!” Deacon yelled, loud enough that he wasn't about to run off to find the man himself. “TINK get your ass up here now!”

Tinker Tom arrived, Breathless, “Sorry, boss...damn stairs in this place...Too many stairs...Whoever designed this place was a grade-A asshole.”

Laying out the Courser and the UP-77, "Time to go to work..." Deacon said, beginning his explanation for what he needed to be done.