Date: 10/31/2224
Location: Lafayette Medical Center
The Lafayette Medical Center wasn’t just a stronghold; it was an experiment. The Brotherhood of Steel had taken it over, patrolling the ruined halls like sentinels. Their armor gleamed under the flickering fluorescents, a manufactured promise of order. Safety here wasn’t free, but it was undeniable.
We were intercepted at the main atrium by a Knight who called himself Colby Voss. He stood broad, his presence as heavy as the steel he wore.
“Welcome to Lafayette Medical,” he said, eyes locking onto my bright yellow T-60. His tone carried a hint of admiration. “That’s a fine rig. Makes a statement.”
I told him straight: the armor was worn, and Pinball needed repair. The Knight nodded, acknowledging both with a glance that told me he valued function as much as form.
Larry stayed half-hidden behind me. He didn’t need to speak—I already knew his fear of the Brotherhood was carved from history he wished he could erase. For now, my armor shielded him from more than bullets.
Colby laid it out: their Louisiana mission was still young. “We’ve fortified this place, but it’s not fully cleared,” he admitted, gesturing to the halls where the scent of feral decay still lingered. “The plan is expansion. The University next—turn it into a hub for education, research, preservation. Something better.”
He Then Says to us “I’m sure you’ve heard of the Brotherhood, of what we stand for. Those truths remain, but here in Lafayette, under the Windham Crew, we aim for something broader. Democracy, even.”
The word hung heavy. Democracy. Not what I expected.
Pinball’s optics lit faintly, shifting from red to blue. He skittered like Pong across the room, processing. Then he broke the silence by piping a low, daunting jazz riff from his speakers.
His reply was almost casual. “Ah, the Windham. You must’ve seen it—the giant airship overhead? That’s ours.”
Before I could press, Clancy snapped. “Stolen from the Enclave!” His voice was raw, bitter, almost shaking.
I cut him off immediately. “Stand down, Lieutenant.” My voice was blade-sharp.
We introduced ourselves properly, but Clancy’s contempt didn’t soften. “I don’t like you,” he growled. Colby gave him the look of a man used to hostility, but not cowed by it.
Then Pinball spoke, his tone uncharacteristically cold. “Colby sounds trustworthy. But the Brotherhood as a whole? They are not to be trusted.” His words cut deeper than Clancy’s outburst. Pinball rarely spoke without evidence, and he never used instinct as his guide.
Colby ignored the tension. He pressed on, clarifying their operation. “This isn’t about hoarding technology. Louisiana is chaos. We adapt, or we break. Here we house families, offer refuge. But nothing is free. Refuge comes at a price—caps, tech, or labor. You work with us, we provide shelter, food, and security.”
His eyes returned to my armor. Admiration, but also calculation. Bright yellow T-60 makes me a beacon, but also buys me passage.
Before leaving, he offered what felt like both an invitation and a test. “We’ve still got work to do tonight. But you’re welcome to stay. Think it over. Stability comes at a cost—but it’s better than the alternative.” His armor clanked softly as he walked off into the dim-lit corridor, shadows swallowing him whole.
Once alone, Pinball whispered through static: “This place functions as a Station. A pause. Shelter. But it is not the Railroad.” His sensors pulsed faintly, almost like a heartbeat. “Observe, Chief. But tread carefully.”
Larry muttered from the shadows, “They’ll kill me if they find out.” His fear was thick, but I didn’t press him. His survival instinct was his only truth.
For now, we had walls, we had light, we had the illusion of safety. Colby’s parting words echoed as the night crept in:
“Tomorrow is Halloween, fellows. Trick or treat.”
—The Big Chief
No comments:
Post a Comment