the pier.

[doubletap]

Let him just say it now--the kid had a lot of problems.

I mean, not really a surprise or anything--Alex had found him dried out in a desert, for crying out loud--but god damn.

Let’s recap.

Alex Seattle Geer found himself in love with a Vault brat from the Capital Wasteland with a daddy complex the size of Hoover Dam. Said kid loves him back--sometimes. Said kid would probably rather put another bullet between Alex’s eyes rather than spend time with him, and didn’t this just go to show it. Neil leaves to check up a rumor, said he’d be back shortly--shortly became two days and by then Dogmeat was back, meaning Neil took off somewhere he was worried the dog would get hurt at. Two days turn into two weeks and counting, and by then, Alex has tracked Neil’s steps, found the fucking pier, the fucking tool of a woman looking for her child, and all of the pieces are too easily placed.

Neil left for Point Lookout. And Alex, ED-E, and Dogmeat are left hanging in the wind.

Alex has been fucking camping on the dirty sand and shit next to that pier, waiting for that stupid kid to come back on that stupid ferry the woman told him about. Tobar the fucking Ferryman, and Alex feels like shooting the asshole just for submitting to Neil’s request. Probably not the guy’s fault, but-- Hell. Yeah. He didn’t traipse all over the goddamn country just to be left in the dust. Is the kid even coming back? Who fucking knows.

Alex will just.

Wait here.

Until Neil comes back.

Yeah, that’s not pathetic at all.

Comments

[vacuus]

There are exchanges between the two knights, muffled by metal helmets and walls. Larry Christensen and Scott Johannson are having a bit of a moment regarding the items on the stairwell. More specifically, the damnable couch.

Their power armor combined with the spacing isn't allowing much mobility, and Larry, frankly, is quite tired of it. "Let's try tilting it toward the left side," he tells the other. "Might fit through that way."

Johannson scoffs as he assesses the spacing. "No," he responds, pointing. "Then that corner's going to get stuck there. Might be better to just leave it. Say it's stuck or something."

"And risk Tanks' rage?" Larry says incredulously. "No, thank you. Do you even know why we're here? Because of Tanks. Because he can't keep his frickin' temper and they needed him out of the way of the negotiations."

There's a sound like agreement. "Maybe if we cut it to pieces and bring those up?" Johannson suggests. "He can't yell at us if we're technically following orders."

"Hm." Larry glances down at the upholstery before pulling out his laser pistol. "Maybe. See if there's an axe, a Ripper, or whatever in the other rooms. I'm going to work on wearing this down."

Johannson steps away from the couch, and with one solid push, he topples over the filing cabinet that's in the way. It slams down with a crash, allowing the way to be mostly clear.

And for Larry to groan. "Seriously?"

The other knight grunts in response and moves his way to the hallway, his footsteps echoing throughout the basement. He pokes his head briefly into the first room, a medical examination room, filled with parts and pieces appropriate for such place. It is, however, lacking the tools sought for, and he isn't willing to look further thanks to the dim lighting. Because no one, especially him, has time for that.

He passes another hallway to a larger room filled with bunks and lockers, shelving space for miscellaneous items. Nothing useful there so Johannson steps further in, until the corridor splits into three directions. It is the left he starts with, the closed door; he hopes it's a sign that something useful might be lurking behind it.

[doubletap]

The crash tells him that his time is up. Alex attaches the rocket canister and locks it into place. Good. Done. He stands, reaching into a pouch, he takes out his 1st Recon beret and slips it on, pulling it snug. The rocket launcher is lifted to his shoulder easily--one glance at the kids and his hand is at the door.

Heavy footsteps stomp into the hall. Timing. Always timing. Alex grins and opens the door, looking at the Steelhead through the reticular targeting lens. "Hi," he says. "It's probably for the best that you head on out now."

[vacuus]

Here is Johannson, minding his own business. Minding the Brotherhood of Steel's business, mind you, until he's facing the barrel of a monstrous rocket launcher wielded by an equally monstrous man. The latter is completely unrecognizable, his attire foreign to Johannson's bank of knowledge, but in the end, it doesn't matter.

That rocket launcher really matters, though, enough for the man to jump nearly out of his power armor. "Holy fuck!" He thinks to reach for the plasma rifle at his back but thinks better of it, choosing instead to hold up both hands in front of him. "Where did you come from?"

[doubletap]

He reaches his free hand behind him to pull the door shut, then walks forward, hoping to back the guy out of the hall. "The room," he replies easily. "Are you going to comply with my request, because I need you to leave now."

Alex looks languid, laid-back. In the Mojave, that narrows him down to the dangerous category, but he doesn't know if the same language applies here. Or if the guy is smart enough to figure it out.

[vacuus]

Shit. This is bad. This is bad enough that Johannson doesn't have a choice in the matter but comply. He's fortunately perceptive like that.

"Easy," he says slowly. "I'm leaving now." His feet slowly back up toward the larger room, toward the entryway where he hopes to fucking hell that Larry heard the commotion and is pulling Tanks downstairs.

Hopefully.

[doubletap]

Alex smirks, eyebrows raised. "'Easy'?" he questions. "Am I doing something that's too hard?"

He's caught actually, between two emotions. His intense dislike of the Brotherhood coupled with the knowledge that the steel is hiding a person with friends and family; a Veronica with their own dreams and desires. He'll shoot the guy, no hesitation, regardless. But what side of himself wins determines how messed up he'll be about it after.

Alex sighs, wishing they had just kept walking. "You had to do a random check today, huh?"

[vacuus]

Hopefully turns into definitely when it's Tanks leading a group of two in, all two drawn with their tri-beam laser rifles at the stranger threatening Johannson. All two settle near the entryway into the larger room, around the various corners. Except Paladin Tanks, of course, with his Tesla cannon. Tanks, who only sighs at display before him, steps carefully to stand next to Johannson.

"Yes, we did," he comments. "Is there a reason why you're pointing that--" A rocket launcher? Quite sophisticated for a wasteland ruffian. If this guy was a wasteland ruffian, that is. "--at my subordinate?"

[doubletap]

Ah, and here comes the cavalry, weapons drawn and everything. Alex perks up, a smile sitting on his lips. The energy weapons are fine and dandy--that tesla cannon is a whole 'another story. The only one Alex has seen was Elijah's rigged one, and it was a whole shit-ton of nasty. Alex could out-damage them, to be sure--but in the closed space, he's as like as not to take off half his body in the process.

Decisions, decisions.

"Didn't want him in my room," he says pleasantly. "Don't want any of you here at all, to be honest. I don't have much patience for you guys' normal bullshit today."

[vacuus]

Ah, the phrase 'normal bullshit' means this man has dealt with the Brotherhood in some capacity. What capacity is not really in Tanks' interest at the moment.

No, he's more interested in figuring out what the hell is a squatter doing in the Jefferson Memorial and why. "Didn't know it was your room," replies the paladin. "Also didn't know you could trespass into private property and claim it as your own. Unless you happen to have a very good reason for coming into Brotherhood of Steel property."

Here, the man sighs, as if lacking much patience himself. "We're all reasonable adults here." He hopes. "Do we really need to level a building because of what I hope is a misunderstanding?"

[doubletap]

"Reasonable," Alex repeats, all charm and cadence. What comes from his mouth isn't as charming. "That's a really rare quality to find in BOS. Most I know would kill you for your tech and then preach to your corpse that they're doing you a favor."

Or something. He's not in the mood. "Don't think this place belongs to you, not really. It's a government building, so public property, and I've never really been behind the whole 'cults taking over a location' thing. Besides--"

Here, he smiles, tight and emotionless. His shoulders shift under the launcher. "It's not like this project was yours anyway. You just latched on to someone else's work."

[vacuus]

Oh, a knowledgeable squatter. Misinformed, but has some info. Already Tanks' head's starting to ache. "Well, whatever you've heard about us," he begins, "could stand to be corrected. We run things a little different around here."

Although, honestly, killing the guy and taking his tech does sound like a good idea. If they weren't indoors, that is. What a damn pity.

"The project itself isn't ours, but we've been entrusted with it, nevertheless," continues Tanks with a genuine tone of seriousness. He steadies the cannon on his shoulder. "You really sure you don't want to explain why you need that room, son? Because I sure as hell don't want to wreck 'someone else's work' thanks to a trespasser."

[doubletap]

The tight smile bursts into a genuinely delighted grin. "I'm not your son, bro," Alex quipped. "And I'm closer to the owner than you are. So how about you take your girl scout troop and mosey on out? I'm really not in the mood."

He debates on telling them about Hidden Valley. It hurts something in his chest to consider but it might be useful to get these guys moving.

[vacuus]

Tanks should kill the guy. Really, the insults are a bit much. Much in the stupid sense, and his headache threatens to become a full-grown migraine from pure exasperation. I mean, honestly. Girl scout troop?

Of course, it has to be another that speaks out from the entryway. Knight Xavier, the former Outcast giving the group another chance.

"Are you seriously going to accept lip from him, Paladin Tanks?" he says, the anger apparent.

Seriously, now Xavier? The fucker's probably going to go on about how this proves Outcast had it correct. Tanks scowls beneath his helmet until something finally snaps. "Shut the fuck up, Xavier. And you--" He nods once to the perpetrator. "Don't say I didn't warn you."

He pulls the trigger, energy coalescing at the tip of the cannon to release in a burst toward the intruder.

[doubletap]

The discord was a beautiful flow, something that stopped suddenly as an energy beam arced through the air. Eyes widening, Alex shifts to the side, snapping Red Glare horizontal and down. It takes the hit in stride, hull sparking. He gives a snarl of distaste at the now black and burned part of the chassis.

"Really?!" he exclaims in genuine disgust. "Really? You're willing to risk messing up your precious project trying to take me out? If I knew you didn't care worth a damn, I would have blown all five of us away by now! Fucking short-sighted, short-cocked motherfuckers-- And I'm going to have to go all the way back to the Divide to replace that hull!"

[goodfight]

It's a familiar sound that draws him out of sleep, out of that senseless dark. He's heard it before, time and time again, in Adams Air Force Base. And when Neil snaps open his eyes, it's appropriately ED-E that he sees first, hovering nervously by the closed door.

Probably because Alex is shouting some unhappy things outside, at something that likely caused that memorable sound.

If memory serves him right, Neil knows exactly who that something is.

He rolls off the bed and onto his feet. Immediately regrets the act a second later as pain and nausea hit him fast and hard. Neil doubles over, form collapsing against the mattress, a hand pressed against his mouth to keep from vomiting. Dogmeat instantly is against him, still quiet despite the noise, using himself as a support.

[vacuus]

Tanks' move incites the others to close in, tri-beam lasers at ready, waiting for their commander's signal. Tanks himself only whistles at the words thrown their way, now finding amusement in the insults. His headache, of course, is gone. What a wonder shooting giant weapons did for stress.

"You had your chance," he says cheerfully. "But I suppose I'll give you another. Throw down your weapon, stranger, and we'll stop here."

[doubletap]

Alex only shakes his head in absolute disgust. "You really don't care," he says, talking mostly to himself at this point. "People have put their blood and souls into this worthless piece of shit project, and you don't even give a damn if you blow it all away."

And Alex, he was surprised to find, did. It was a worthless project. It was honestly ruining to think about in the context of what it could have been instead. But for close to a year, Neil had sold his soul to make it succeed, and he was not going to disgrace the memory of that sacrifice. That loss.

He drops the missile launcher as easily as anything, reaching behind his shoulder in the same easy motion. His LAER+ is an energy rifle, a tri-beam rifle, same as theirs, sure. Same premise at least. His did a helluva amount more damage, and looked a shitton better, to boot. But that isn't the issue here. "I care, apparently. But I'll be wearing your pretty power armor all the same by the end of the day."

[vacuus]

The second weapon drawn has Tanks raising both eyebrows to the ceiling. It looks to be Pre-War tech, and if there's something a Brotherhood of Steel member will pause at, it's Pre-War tech. Not for long, of course.

"I really don't care," says Tanks in an even voice, a hand reaching for another electron charge pack to reload the Tesla cannon. "So long as we're clear, I could honestly give a molerat's ass about this project."

While loading the pack carefully into the cannon, he signals for his men to fire their rifles.

[goodfight]

Neil touches the dog's head briefly, forcing calm and stability. The voices in the hallway are becoming louder, angrier, and there isn't a moment to waste. He stands up, stumbling in the motion, notes the pile of clothes on the floor. Going out in his underwear probably wouldn't do him any good; thus, he grabs the long coat he's attributed to Alex, throwing it on and buttoning as swiftly as his fingers would allow.

Finally, ignoring all pain and warnings screaming in his feverish brain, Neil opens the door. He pauses in his movements once to spare ED-E a look, a tired expression of reassurance, before rushing out of the room.

"Hey! Stop!" he yells down the hall.

[doubletap]

"I could honestly give a molerat's ass about this project."

--There the anger surges, eyes widening with hate. For the project Alex Seattle Geer fucking hates, for Neil's wasted early years, for these assholes hiding behind metal plate; all of it. The second he starts shooting, he knows he'll have to finish it. Otherwise, it will start a drawn out war, and he wants them to be able to finish their time in this shitty wasteland without trouble. More trouble. So if he starts shooting, he has to finish it.

All right. All right. So he'll finish it.

His weapon is raised to fire in a blink, and there is the sound of a door opening, yelling from a voice well-loved. Alex instantly feels like a kid caught doing something wrong, but pushes the feeling away, the semi-fear of Neil reacting poorly to Alex's part in this. Gun at the ready and still facing the group in front of him, he side-steps, blocking Neil from continuing as well as shielding him from any threats.

"Neil," he says tersely, eyes locked on the guys in metal, expression without the humor he had been wearing for most of this interaction. "You need to go back in that room."

You need to rest. He wants to turn, take the kid in his arms and make sure he's okay, get him to lay down and rest again, but there's four assholes with energy weapons who have already shown they don't give a fuck--he's not turning his back on them.

[vacuus]

Before they could finish this gloriously prolonged version of all that's stupid in the world, a new voice emerges, calling for a cessation. This would have been ignored. Would have, if not for the other man's reactions. If not for the name given.

Tanks raises a hand, signaling the others to hold their fire. Xavier practically snarls at the command, which his superior decidedly ignores.

"Neil," tries Tank. "Neil Park?"

[goodfight]

Alex blocks him from proceeding, but it's not something Neil minds. What he does mind is image before him: four sets of power armor branded with the Brotherhood of Steel insignia, aiming three sets of tri-beam laser rifles and a Tesla cannon in their direction.

That and the voice of their commanding officer. God, it's been years, but Neil Park recognizes that voice.

"Just give me a minute," he says quietly to Alex. With that, his attention shifts again to the one in charge.

"Yeah, Tanks, you fucking prick," Neil calls out from behind Alex, bandaged head poking over to the side to get a decent look at the other. There's nothing to see, of course, except standard power armor. "I save your pathetic hide, and this is the thanks I get? You trying to shoot my friend?"

[doubletap]

Yeah, sure, have your fucking minute, kid. When you should be resting and fucking not standing. Alex shifts to angle his body, still blocking Neil, but moving a hand to reach behind his back, grasping the front of Neil's clothes to keep him close and still. Stable, maybe. The cloth is familiar under his hand, but he's not looking away, not yet.

For this Alex keeps to silence, willing to let this play out, except--

Alex curls a lip at the one called Tanks, happy to play killjoy. "Not just that. Willing to crumble this whole project just to ice me."

[vacuus]

Indeed, it is Neil Park, the Lone Wanderer. The fucking Savior of the Wastes himself, looking over his monstrous friend to lecture him. Him, Paladin Tanks of the Brotherhood of Steel. He could practically picture Xavier bringing up the next dumb item to his dumb list of grievances.

Park's monstrous friend does not help matters, and Tanks sneers back, despite no one being able to see his expression. "Please. I gave you plenty of chances to explain your side of things," he replies, his tone again shifting to boredom. Attention shifting to Park. "If he had just mentioned you--"

[goodfight]

"--would have started shooting anyway," Neil retorts, cutting through the bullshit. He sways against the fist grasping the front of his clothes before settling in a more tolerable stance, his hand unobtrusively reaching out to press against Alex's back.

His voice lowers, revealing a hard edge despite his condition. "I'm still listed as a Project Purity member," he says. "That means my friend and I can be here whenever I fucking feel like it. That means he can shoot you liberally for risking the project. Capice?"