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heartofsnark · 4 years ago

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Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Two): Here In Night City

Notes: This one has been done for a while, I’ve been pretty busy and overwhelmed with school for a while, but I’ve been having some fun silverv shenanigans on my personal account and I figured it was time to post it. I’m not sure how I feel about it? It went through some heavy edits, so there might be some typos and issues with that, and writing a montage...is new territory for me...

Word Count: 14799

Chapter Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Casual Discussion of Suicide (its fairly common in Night City according to lore), Talks of Sex but nothing explicit

If you haven’t yet, you can read the first chapter here.

V fiddles with the frayed edges of her hoodie, following behind Jackie. The night air chills her skin as they walk. It's not far from the bar where he stops a building, among the shorter cluster of buildings in Heywood, in no way stretching up into the heaven like many of the buildings in Night City. Jackie has no hesitation, taking the steps two at a time and swinging the front door open. She moves to take her mask off, not wanting to risk creeping his mom out, though her bruises and blood matted hair won’t do her any favors.

“Ma! I brought a friend home!” He yells out, like they’re kids asking to have a sleepover and V finds herself smiling. V bounces slightly on the balls of her feet, looking around the living room, the little collections of knick knacks, little calavera skulls. The couch covered in blankets and the warm little cozy touches within the home.

“Jaquito!” A woman’s accented voice rings out, Jackie’s mom coming into the living room, “where the hell have you been!? I’ve been worried sick!”

Jackie’s mom is a woman somewhere in her fifties, if V had to wager a guess, with gray hair that falls down past her shoulders and blue eyes. There’s a softness to her as she looks at her son, something inherently maternal to her gaze. There’s wrinkled lines of worry around her eyes.

“Ay, I told you Mama, it was just biz. Nothing to worry about,” Jackie waves off his mother’s concerns.

“And your friend?” The older woman’s eyes land on her, she looks down finding a spot on the floor to focus on.

“Ma, this is V.”

Jackie turns to introduce her and V starts to look up, then his green eyes widen for a moment. It’s the first time he’s seen her without the mask, she’s realized, and she finds herself hyperaware of her features, worrying about how they’re being viewed. Her hands fidget and nerves flush her face. She’s not even this anxious when a hookup sees her face for the first time. The idea of a potential bedmate rejecting her is nothing compared to this visceral fear that her new friend and his mother not approving of her .

“Hi,” she signs, slightly stilted in her movements, feeling as if she might combust.

Her already awkward gestures completely freeze when she feels Senora Welles cups her cheek, fingers rubbing over the purple bruises on V’s skin. The touch is kind and warm, stirring up memories of V’s own mother. Memories of being a child returning to camp after hours of scavenging through a landfill or exploring the new land just for her mother to come look over her for every bruise or mark she may have collected.

“My Jackie drag you into one of his messes?” Senora Welles asks before V can go further down the slippery nostalgia slope. Fingers brush across the blood in the back of V’s hair, the worry etching the older woman’s expression only grows. The intensity makes the former nomad look at the ground, unable to maintain eye contact.

“It was a client, mama,” Jackie answers for V, “First night in NC spent bleeding out in a dumpster, second will be spent on the street unle-”

“Say no more. I’ll get you some clean clothes, you can use our shower, and we’ll get some food in your belly, alright?”

“Alright, thank you, so much,” V signs as Senora Welles pulls away. She doesn’t know what she did to deserve their kindness, but she’s thankful for it, nonetheless.

She’s given a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants once Senora Welles has shown her to the bathroom. It’s modest with a tile floor, stickers on the mirror and sugar skulls beside it. V catches sight of herself in the mirror and blinks at what’s looking back at her, she understands Jackie and his mother’s reaction now. While she suspected and felt what she may look like. But her reflection staring back at her confirms it. Purples, blues, and greens scatter across her face like galaxies over her skin. Her eyeliner has smeared and smudged around her eyes. Her hair is in tangles, darkening red flecks of blood staining the bleached blonde and dark brown of her roots where it sticks to her scalp the ponytail she tied it back in is now knots. She needs a cut and a touch up. But bleach may have to wait, when she tries to brush it out, it hurts, pulling at the not quite healed wound on her scalp and bringing fresh blood to the surface. She does the best she can for now before deciding it’s enough.

V triple checks the lock on the door, not out of distrust for the Welles, but her own paranoia and habit. Then she strips out of her clothes and takes out her hearing aids, stashing them in the medicine cabinet in hopes of protecting them from steam. She rubs at the reddened skin of her ears. She knows they’re necessary, but they chap and rub her ears raw after too long. There’s cream she has for it, that’s in her duffle bag, that was in her Rattler. She pouts at the realization before she turns on the hot water, stepping under it’s spray.

The hot water is a welcomed relief to her aching muscles, as she washes away the grime, she starts to feel human again. She scrubs the blood and mess from her hair, careful of her still tender scalp as she washes away the mess that was her first day in Night City.

V dries off and slots her hearing aids back in, they seem to still be dry. She throws on the clothes she was given. The shirt hangs off her shoulders and the hem hits at her knees, she gets the idea the shirt may be Jackie’s. She’s less sure of the sweatpants, they do sag on her hips and the legs go well over her feet, but with enough tightening of the drawstring they manage to stay up. Baggy, soft, and warm. If not for the still steady pain in her temples and the cramping of her empty belly, she could curl up to sleep. Her hair is still in absolute knots, so she ops for putting it up in a bun to save for a time in which she can handle combing through it. Then finally she leaves the bathroom, peeking around the corner.

“Chica, in here!” Jackie’s voice booms and calls her into the kitchen.

She pads her way in there, Senora Welles and Jackie are gathered around a table in the kitchen. He’s thrown off his jacket, showing the muscle shirt he wore beneath it. And despite having seen him all night, she truly feels like she’s seeing him fully now in the cozy lighting of the kitchen. Freckled skin, biceps the size of her head, a black and red tattoo on his wrist and forearm that’s cut off by a gold bracelet. The light catches off the cyberware across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He grins widely as his mother fills a bowl with chili, the grown man shoveling it in his mouth without waiting for it to cool, like an overexcited child.

“Over here, mija, take a seat and a bowl,” Senora Welles beckons her over.

V climbs up into a seat, awkwardly tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. Senora Welles fills a bowl to the top with chilli for her; the smell of the tomato, synth beef, and veggies making her stomach growl. She’s torn between gratefulness and feeling a bit like a mangy dog Jackie dragged in. It’s fine line between kindness and pity, she can only hope it’s the former rather than the latter.

“Thank you, so much.”

The second she’s done signing another thanks, she’s shoving chili into her mouth and its so good. Perfectly cooked and with a hint of spice. She nearly inhales the rest of her bowl, barely coming up for air as she gobbles it up. A second bowl goes by just as quickly, she’s pretty sure Jackie’s on her third by the time she grabs the second. She’s slowing down by her third, her stomach not quite bursting, and she’s willing to push it just to keep eating.

“Aye, you’re as bad as Jaquito,” Senora Welles teases, smiling as she calmly eats her own food.

“Sorry, its just really good…” V signs with one hand, still eating with her other.

“Told you my ma made the best chili.”

“Hey, what did I say about talking with your mouth full, Jackie!” His mother scolds him.

“V did it first.”

“I don’t talk!”

“See, she did it again!” Jackie teases when she signs again. V swallows her mouthful of chili and sticks her tongue out at Jackie. The joking around has eased some of the tension for V, Jackie still treating her like a new friend and not some sad sack he’s trying to help.

“So, V,” Senora Welles says after a few moments, “where are you from?”

“All of the everywhere, I think I was born in North Carolina? Maybe?”

“You’re a nomad?”

V chews her lip, the media talk about nomads is far from good, usually painted as asshole outlaws. Corps don’t like them. Corps own the media. So they make sure the media tells everyone that nomads are the violent assholes who refuse to fall in line, refused to sell their land, and then ran away to ruin everyone’s life when they lost the battle. Not that it stops them from lining a nomad’s pocket when they need work done. Which, granted, her own nomad family are…violent assholes and criminals, but that doesn’t mean they all are. And she doesn’t want to be painted with that same brush. And there are good solid nomad families out there, she’s met more than a few in Bakkers, Aldecaldos, and Red Ochre Clan; to name just a handful.

“Formerly, yeah, was hoping to make a new life here.”

“Your nomad family ain’t waiting for you?”

“Uh, no, just…no.”

Tears prick at the back of V’s eyes, threatening to shed as she thinks of her mom, put down in a med tent. The first time her father held a captive bolt pistol to the base of her skull, ready to kill her for her newfound disability. The way everything seemed to change when she lost her hearing. Her sister hunting her down like a dog, not caring who she has to shake down, what she has to burn to the ground; just to kill her on the order of their father. She bites down harshly on her lower lip, she doesn’t want to think about it.

Then there’s an arm wrapping around her shoulders, Senora Welles having stood up at some point, and now gently tucking V’s head under her chin. A gentle one-armed hug, not tight or all-encompassing but warm and kind, without pushing her.

“No worries, mija,” the older woman speaks against V’s skin, “you can stay here as long as you need.”

“Thank you, that means a lot,” V’s not sure if at the angle, Senora Welles eyes can translate her signing, but she squeezes the older woman’s hand, hoping it can be communicated through touch if nothing else. Appreciative as she is, there’s a small pit in her stomach, she’s already becoming a burden to someone new.

A moment passes and then Senora Welles gives a soft kiss to the top of her head before taking away the dirty dishes. V starts to gather it as well, she’s eating their food and staying in their house, the least she can do. If she’s going to impose for any length of time, she needs to make herself worthwhile to have around, to some degree.

“No, no, no, V. You’re a guest, go on and get settled in,” Senora Welles stops her before she can help any further.

“Uh-“

“C’mon, jaina,” Jackie gives a quick pat to her shoulder, “I’ll show you where you can sleep tonight.”

She gets up from her seat, feet padding up the stairs after Jackie. He barely fits between the banisters, his wide muscular frame completely blocking her view as they move through the house. He takes her up to a bedroom, its not particularly big, and she can’t help but think he’s had it since he was a child. There’s fitness posters on the wall, weights that she imagines Jackie could juggle if he wanted, a vanity with a rosary, but it’s what stacked on top of one of the desks that catches her eye.

Two desks are flush against one of the walls, one with a large aquarium balanced on it. Vivid blue and white fluorescent lights illuminating the water. Only one fish swims through it, gray with a fin, like a mini shark. V can’t help the noise of excitement she makes as she bounces on the balls of her feet over to the tank, sitting in the chair at the desk. She wants a better look at this beautiful baby.

“V, meet Taco,” Jackie introduces her to the dwarf shark.

“I’d die for him,” she signs, with zero hesitation.

“I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Heh,” she giggles at his response, “must have cost you an arm and a leg.”

“Think I bought him?”

V’s nose wrinkles as she laughs, hands forming words, “forbidden shark.”

V taps against the aquarium glass, getting Taco’s attention, she drags her finger back and forth across the glass watching the large fish chase her finger. Taco twirls and twists, trying to nibble at her finger through the glass.

“So, what happens tomorrow?” Jackie asks, bed creaking under his weight.

She turns in the chair, resting her arms and chin across the back of it as she shifts to face him. Jackie has sat down on the bed tucked into a cubby against a wall. Can he even fit on that bed? She’s still not even sure who’s sleeping where tonight, she has no intention of stealing the man’s bed, if anything she wishes you could buy him a bigger one to more comfortably fit him.

“Tomorrow? Gonna get my shit back, hopefully turn a quick profit off the cargo, and get myself a place. I don’t plan on making a nuisance out of myself, I promise.”

She’s thankful for the hospitality and as much as she maybe shouldn’t, she’ll take advantage for the night. But, she has no intention of leeching off of their kindness. They may be opening their door to her, but no one wants a mooch. She’s an adult and needs to take care of herself.

“Pfft, you ain’t no fucking nuisance, my ma’s probably just happy to have someone who’ll help with the dishes.”

“I don’t wan-“ she shifts gears mid-sentence, “you don’t help your mom with the dishes?”

“Eh, ya know,” he makes a vague wiggly hand gesture and scrunches his face up “it’s gross…” He shrugs.

“Of course it’s gross, you dummy! She cooks for you for god’s sake, the least you can do is help clean up!”

“I’m busy, okay!”

“Unbelievable.”

“Look,” he laughs, “ that, this was not the point, Chica. So, before you climb up my ass again… Lemme ask, what about the day after tomorrow? Day after that… you ice Sinclaire and then what? ”

“Hmmm,” she hums, tapping her fingers against the chair before signing, “I hate to disappoint but I haven’t come up with any grand plan since the last time you asked. ’

“Figured as much, you ever do any merc work before this?”

“Little things, smuggling jobs here and there, stayed out of cities so pickings were slim. You been doing it long?”

“Most of my life; work for yourself, live for yourself. Only way there is, if you ask me.”

“Probably be the easiest way to make eddies after I square away this cargo thing,” she admits, she never really put it into thoughts, but she always sort of assumed that’s where she’d end up once she landed in the city. The only other alternative would be some entry level job waiting tables or something and that might even be a pipe dream if they expect her to have cyberware or something resembling a formal education.

“Already got a fixer who likes you,” Jackie tells her, “and not to brag, but with me as your partner you’ll be getting preem jobs right out the gate.”

“Oh, so we’re partners now?”

“Don’t see why not, already know we work well together, I could use an extra pair of hands and you could use really any help you can get, and… ” he pauses for a moment, finding his words, “I just got a good feeling about this, ‘bout us.”

“A feeling?”

“Yeah, that the two of us could make to the top.”

She’s trying not to laugh as she sees excitement fill his eyes, like a child on Christmas. It’s not as if merc work is new territory to her, she’s taken odd jobs in the Badlands. But, it is sparser than in the city and mostly smuggling. She can’t exactly proclaim it’s her dream job or what she wants to do forever, but she can’t think of a damn thing else she’d like to do. Death has been nipping at her heels since she was nine years old, she hasn’t thought far ahead, hasn’t felt she had any right to.

And, she can’t really say she gives a fuck about making it to the top. Riches, fame, notoriety, being a legend. She couldn’t care less. She just wants to be in control of her own life, to feel like she has no restraints, and to build a life that has meaning to her. To be the person she wants to be, even though she isn’t quite sure who that is yet… She’s twenty, twenty-one this year, and she never even thought she’d get that far. Its hard to really expect her to know exactly who she is or what she wants.

But… could she really even get that far? Jackie seems convinced, but could she be capable of that? Is she strong enough? Competent enough?

“I’m talking the major leagues, V. The top of the top, the mercs who get the best jobs, are swimming in eddies; Night City legends.”

“That what you want?”

“More than anything. Raised in shit, told I’d never climb out, but I’m gonna prove ‘em wrong. Don’t you want to? Show every son of a bitch who put you down, looked down their nose at you, that they didn’t know shit?”

Her father and his words come flooding to her mind; told she’s weak, worthless, defective, not worth the lead to blow her brains out. And yeah, she’d love to prove him wrong. To be strong and show she’s capable. To know she can take care of herself, that she doesn’t need anyone else to be okay. She’d love to prove to the people who told her she needed to get her hearing “fixed”, that she’s not fucking broken. Even now, people like Sinclaire take one look at her and see her as gutter trash. She wants respect, the security that comes with it, not notoriety. Proving her strength, her capability, her worth by taking any job that comes her way is more than a little enticing, it’d earn her that respect both from others.

But more importantly, she’d like to prove that to herself. To know in her heart she really isn’t any of those things. That she isn’t a burden. To prove to herself that she’s capable of more than being a burden, more than meandering along to her father’s orders. For once she’d like for others not to look at her like cockroach and more importantly to be able to look at herself and see more than a waste of space. To finally feel right in her own skin, take that voice of doubt that keeps asking her if she’s enough, and crush it.

She could give a fuck less who knows her name, hell she prefers no one ever does. Its not the notoriety or fame. V greatly prefers being unknowable, between the mask and alias she’s a few blurry photos away from going full cryptid. And she likes that. If she keeps the mask on for business, keep work and personal separate with it, she could keep her privacy. Keep skeletons in her closet from coming back to bite her...

For so long she was told she was weak by The Herd. Weak for her disability. Weak for accepting her mother’s protection.

An outcasts among outcasts, thats what the sheriff said, and he didn’t know the half of it. Nomads the outcasts of regular society, raffen shiv the outcasts of the nomads, and her an outcast among the raffen shiv. An outcast from the outcasts of the outcasts. So unwanted by the world and even her own fucking body. There has never in twenty years been a place for her in this world. But maybe she’s finally found it, working her ass off with Jackie and showing Night City just what she can do.

“Lets do it,” she decides, she wants this, not to be famous or major leagues but to be untouchable, to prove a point, to take control of her life, to be more than anyone thought she could be, and to like what she sees when she looks in the mirror.

“Fuck yeah,” he shifts to face her fully, catching her hand in shake, his large fingers blanketing her smaller ones, “this is the start of a beautiful thing, I just know it.”

That night, Jackie sleeps on the couch in the living room, despite V’s constant insistence that she’ doesn’t want to take over his bed; his stubbornness wins out. And as he leaves to the living room she’s left with the weight of loneliness, of trying to sleep without the warmth of another beside her. It’s a dumb issue to have, keeping the world at arm’s length and keeping her walls up at all times, but needing a hug to sleep. Years of safety in numbers being beat into her head, sleeping alone feels like baring her throat for the wolves and expecting herself to find peace.

As odd, creepy, weird as it may be V takes advantage of the benefit that sleeping in Jackie’s clothes and bed has for her. Burying her nose in the pillows and blankets that smell like him, smell like another person, trying to convince her senses she’s not alone. Letting the smell of cheap cologne and some oil she can’t quite place soothe her. It used to be a band tee she stole from Ava, before…everything, though the scent has steadily faded over time, its still a source of comfort. And it was in her bag…in her car. Who knows if she’ll find it again…

Then there’s her pictures and the old polaroid camera she fixed up to take them. A little treasure she found rummages through a landfill out towards Oregon. Photos of her sister, her mother, and Ava; of her life before she had to run. Back when she still thought that a family that doesn’t want you was worth having… Pictures from her time on the road; her and Sabrina, the sweet group of Bakkers who sold her the Rattler, and just any place, sight, or person that managed to make her day or make a few days. Loneliness colored a lot of that time, but she made her memories, people she’s sure forgot her when she left but whom she’ll never forget.

Her mom’s guitar… the one thing she went back for the night she left, doubling back and breaking into her father’s tent for it when she realized she had left. Stepping into the lion’s den just to have it, she can’t play, she gave up on learning when her hearing went. But those early memories of sitting in her mother’s lap at camp with the guitar in her hands, small fingers callusing as they plucked at the strings….

And all of those could be gone. Every memory and memento could be gone for good because of one asshole. She digs her nails into her scalp and knots her hair, anger and anxiety pitting in her stomach, bleeding into each other.

She burrows into the blankets and pillows, trying to prevent her thoughts from wandering, though it’s fighting an uphill battle, trying to think of the name of every star she knows in alphabetical order if only to bore her brain into sleep rather than letting it race in circles. She’s somewhere between Meissa and Merga when she finally falls asleep.

And she awakes in the dead of night; chest tight and lungs struggling to get a deep breath of air. No nightmare this time, but a sense of panic and dread pumping adrenaline into her blood, making her heart race as she jumps out of Jackie’s bed. She checks the door, she locked it before she went to bed, she needs doors locked. And she knows she did, but she needs to check it. She locks and unlocks it, no windows to check, so her focus is only on the door. And she does that until the tightness in her chest ease, until she can breathe a little easier, locking it for the last time before walking away from the door. Security, safety, a paranoia that tells her to never feel safe. That the world has always wanted her gone and one day death will knock at her door for the last time.

Her body feels heavy as she wanders to Taco’s tank, the shark swimming in circles, V’s face bathed in the blue light from it. There’s still a shake in her hands, but her limbs are leaden as she sits down at the desk. She watches him swim and swish around for a few moments, sprinkling some of his food into the tank to watch him eat.

“Really wish I could hold you, right now.”

She speaks it out loud, softly to the swimming shark, needing to put her thoughts into the world but hands too shaky to sign worth a damn. Though they still ache and twitch to do so. After a few more moments of watching the mini shark swim, she crawls back into bed to sleep for the rest of the night. Thankful, that she doesn’t wake until morning.

The newly appointed merc is dragging when she wakes, as always due to her lackluster sleeping patterns. To make matters worse, her eyes are red and itchy, sensitive even in the light of the house. A flare up, autoimmune disease coming back to kick her ass for stressing and not sleeping. Her joints ache, swollen, as she groggily stumbles her way from Jackie’s bedroom, when a sweet smell hits her nose, stomach growling. She

Senora Welles and Jackie are at the table, she made breakfast of course, because she’s entirely too nice. On the table is a spread of french toast with cinnamon whip cream on top. Jackie already has a stack nearly as tall as V on his plate, half eaten.

Jackie yells out something, his mouth full, and she realizes the world is still quiet as his mother scolds him. Her eyes are too irritated and her mind too groggy for her to be able to competently read lips. She holds up a finger, asking them to wait a moment, and doubles back to Jackie’s bedroom. She grabs her hearing aids and contemplates grabbing her mask, just so it can translate for her.

Optic translations are pretty advanced for sign language, but they have limitations. Like people needing to look at the signer the entire time and name signs being essentially untranslatable since they’re personal to the signer. But she wants to eat and having to hold up her mask everytime she wants to talk is a pain. She turns on her hearing aids and leaves the mask behind, hopefully Jackie and Senora Welles will look at her if she has to say anything or she’ll just stay silent as she stuffs her face. Jackie raises an eyebrow at her when she comes back to the kitchen.

“Forgot my ears,” she signs, tapping her hearing aid, and flinching when it gives a bit of feedback in reaction.

“Ahh, well come sit your ass down, ma made tres leche french toast.”

“Thank you,” she signs to Senora Welles who gives her a soft smile.

“Something up with your optics, jaina? Looking red.”

“I don’t have optic implants,” she signs before pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Really? Guess that’d be why you don’t got lipreading tech and explain why they look like you rubbed peppers in them.”

“That’s just a flare up.”

“Flare up?” Senora Welles asks, concern darkening her expression.

“Autoimmune disease, some days my body hates me more than others.”

“That what happen to your…?” Jackie taps his ear, rather than say it outright.

She nods, it attacked the inner ear most aggressively, completely destroying her hearing by nine. According to the clan doctor, all the times she complained about her ears hurting, dizziness, and ringing in her ears it’s because her immune system was aggressively attacking them. But, she was only ever told to walk it off, until inevitably the world went silent. It still flares up, deciding it doesn’t like the rest of her either. Her eyes are what worry her the most but what can she really do.

“There ain’t anything that can help with that.”

“Uh, heard medications can, but haven’t been to a doc since I was sixteen and I ain’t looking to break my streak,” she signs, unable to help the way she scrunches her nose.

She hates doctors. Her last experience with the clan doctor ensured she never wanted to deal with another, not to mention how many times she’s been told to pop by a ripper and just “fix” her hearing.

“Hmm, you got any chrome, V?”

“Nope.” she signs.

“Seriously, nothing?”

“Not even a personal link.” She shows the palms of her hands and wrists, thankful the sleeves of the sweatshirt lent to her cover the brand on her wrist.

“Hate to break it to you, V, but you're gonna need some chrome. Personal link, neural port, bare fuckin’ minimum if you wanna get by in Night City.”

She doesn’t answer, just pouting as she pours sugar and milk into her coffee, until there’s barely a hint of brown coloring. She isn’t against cyberware inherently and everyone’s choice is their own, but whether it’s the years of being told they’re cheap tools to make the weak feel strong or just her own discomfort with everything it entails, the whole thing makes her skin crawl. V already hates doctors and would rather dose up on bounce backs if she has to. She can stitch her own wounds, has before, whatever it takes to avoid them.

Add in the fact most cyberware is made and licensed by corps, no. Sure, black alley shit exists, but just the idea of a corp having the right to her eyes. What if they revoke someone’s usage of them, spy through them, confiscate them?

“Once your two finish your business, take her to Viktor,” Senora Welles tells Jackie, before turning to look at V, “he’s a good man, I’d trust to take care of anyone, mija. I’m sure he can help with whatever you need.”

“Okay, if he has your seal of approval, suppose I gotta at least see him.” V concedes, Senora Welles seems convinced this guy is good. Even if V decides to just try to go without, everything, it can’t hurt just to meet the guy.

“Vik’s one of my closest friends, he’ll take care of you, promise. Though, uh, keep taking your coffee like that, he might have his work cut out for him.”

“I like sweets,” she signs, shrugging before taking a drink of her coffee and another big bite of french toast. They’re incredible, cinnamon whip cream sticking to her lips.

“You might as well inhale sugar.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t.”

They finish up the breakfast, V stuffed with a good three or more stacks of french toast. Senora Welles begins to collect the dishes. And no, V’s not letting this happen again.

“We’ll do dishes,” she signs, starting to collect the plates.

“We?”

“No, no, you don’t have to, dear.”

“I insist please, you cooked, it’s only right for us to clean up afterwards,” she signs with one hand then looks to Jackie, “right?”

“Right… we’ll take care of it ma.”

“Thank you, Mija,” Senora Welles squeezes her shoulder, “I washed your clothes last night, I’ll leave them in the bathroom, once you two finish with the dishes you can wash up and get changed.”

“Thank you,” V signs again before taking the dishes to the sink with Jackie.

“One night here and you’re already the favorite, Jesucristo.”

V can’t resist giggling at the comment, smile on her face. They don’t talk much as they wash dishes, mostly because she can’t sign and clean at the same time. It doesn’t take long before they’ve finished up. V going to shower and change, then they’ll head to the chop shop Padre mentioned. Then it’s time to end Sinclaire.

“You ready to go, V?” Jackie asks when she comes back changed, mask with her for when she’ll need it.

“Let’s get this show on the road.”

“Me and V are headed out, Ma! Be back in time for dinner, promise!”

The pair leave the house and make their way down the steps. The streets are jam packed with people and she’s still not used to the crowd, cringing as she has to weave through them. Jackie doesn’t have a car and her’s is indisposed wherever it is. She nearly trips over a bag of trash trying to keep up with her new partner. Why is the city so dirty? V never even let the camp site get this filthy and these city people just toss their trash out on the street?

“C’mon, we’ll take the train down to the chop shop, see if they got your car first,” Jackie’s voice cuts her off because she can start trying to clean the street.

“I still don’t have any-”

“I’ll pay for us both.”

“Sorry and thanks”

“How many times have you said sorry or thanks since we met?” Jackie asks.

“I wasn’t counting.”

The station is already crowded and she’s cringing at the sight of two many fucking people. They fall in line, jacking in personal links, eyes glowing as they pay the fee then wait for the train. Mothers holding their children’s hands, homeless people with signs at the sides of the station, begging for eddies.

“Too many times,” he says jacking in his personal link, eyes lighting up as he pays for both of their rides, “this is what friends and family are for, chica.”

“To pay my way in the world?” She asks as they step into the crowded subway train.

The crowd is forced to part around Jackie, everyone offering his broad frame more space, as his sheer size demands it. No one moves for V, she has to step and weave around people who easily crowd around her small figure without a second thought. Is it just the size difference? Or something more?

She curls in on herself, shrinking as she maneuvers through people. Too many voices, layering together into cacophony. She can feel the warmth of everyone’s body, the stench of body odor and contrasting perfumes or colognes. She needs her own car, for sure, this is agony. She can’t do this daily.

“To have your back, mija. Besides, acting like world’s doing you a favor by letting you exist, a good way to get your neck stepped on.”

“But, you and your ma are doing me a favor. You gonna step on my neck for thanking you?”

They’ve come to a stop, Jackie finding a empty pole on the subway train to hold onto. She looks up at him, waiting for his answer, blinking expectantly. He’s not seriously suggesting she not be grateful, is he? She’s no stranger to faking confidence or having an attitude, she’s not exactly a goodie two shoes. But she’s not about to be rude to people who don’t invite the behavior. Usually.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

“Look at you like what?” She asks, migraine forming as she’s surrounded by noise.

“With those puppy eyes.”

“Those are just my eyes, Jackie.”

“Well, stop it.”

“Fine,” she decides, kill two birds, one stone, “I’m gonna put my mask on and turn off my hearing aids for a bit.”

“Why?”

“Too much,” she signs and gesture vaguely to the entire subway.

“Ah, not used to the city noise are ya?” He asks just before she turns off her hearing aids, sliding her mask in place. She breathes a sigh of relief, silence, glorious silence.

“Its...a lot, but in general, world has either been silent or at least had a mute button since I was nine. First time I got my hearing aids, I broke down in tears, felt like the world was screaming at me and that was in the middle of nowhere. I’ve gotten use to them and its not even necessarly the volume, its just that its not cohesive if that makes sense. Not that any sound is too loud, just there’s too many of them.”

“I think, I get ya, if it’s one thing drowning out everything else it’s fine. But, when you got twenty different things going on, it feels like your brain is going in every direction?”

“Kinda? It’s just too much, like the world on low volume.”

“Eh, have a feel you’re gonna be hitting mute on Night City a lot.”

“Yeah, I kinda figure.”

“Hmmm, probably should figure out a better fix than the mask too, can’t wear it all the time.”

“I mean,” she shrugs, “ideally everyone in the world would just learn sign language to accommodate me.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, apparently catching the joke, “Night City ain’t one for accomadating.”

“A person can dream.”

“Tell you what though, chica, teach me sign language, I’ll teach you, Spanish.”

“You got it, and once you know ASL and I know Spanish, we can learn Spanish Sign Language, or if you prefer Mexican Sign Language. Or both.”

“How many different kinds of sign language are there again?”

“Not sure, but I probably can’t count that high. I mean there’s several variations even in just signing in English.”

“Oh…”

“You have ASL which is the most common, you have Signed Exact English which has a lot more fingerspellng. You have Conceptually Accurate Signed English, also sometimes called Pidgin Sign Language which essentially uses ASL signs but follows word order and grammar rules from English. And-”

“I’m regretting this already.”

“Then there’s different dialects used within different parts of the deaf community, like-”

“Well, lookie there, it’s our stop,” Jackie cuts her off when the subway train comes to a stop and she’s smiling behind her mask, watching the way the gears in his head turn trying to keep up with this information.

V stays close to his back as he leaves the crowded train, taking advantage of the space the crowd gives him to give herself some space. The chop shop is just a short walk from the station and despite struggling to keep up with Jackie’s longer strides, they reach it without much issue. V making sure to turn her hearing aids back on before she enters the store.

“Can I help you?” A worker grumbles when the pair walk through the door.

“I’m looking for a Galena Rattler, nomad vehicle, red. Someone brought it in here.”

The worker scratches at the cybernetics etching his face, searching his memory for a moment before he finally speaks up.

“Had something like that come in a day or two ago, had a dog bobblehead on the dash?’

“That’s the one.”

“Bucket of rust was sent to the landfill as soon as it got here, probably scrapped by now.”

Her heart sinks into her chest, her first car, her fucking home for the past four or so years; gone. All because some asshole had to fuck her over. She wants to scream, cry a little bit, kick something.

“Sorry, kid, uh, I can get you the stuff we got out of it. About all I can offer you.”

“Okay…”

She nudges the floor with the toe of her boot, fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she waits. It isn’t long until the worker emerges from the back room with her dufflebag, the guitar case, and her dog bobblehead. V checks through, all weapons and first aid shit gone. But her holophone, her clothes, the clunky old little computer, her photos, and her mother’s guitar are all still there. Basically anything they couldn’t feasibly make a profit off of is still there. Photos mean nothing, a crappy landfill camera worthless, beat up acoustic guitar, and tech that dates back a good couple years don’t amount to much when you want cash. At least being generations behind everyone else has done her some good. Even if she still lost her car.

Most of her mementos were saved, but a pit still forms in her stomach at losing her car, essentially her closest thing to home since she left The Herd.

“C’mere, chica.”

Jackie wraps his arms around her smaller frame, large arms encompassing her, threatening to crush the air from her lungs. Unlike the one-armed hug from his mother, this is overwhelmingly affectionate, surrounded by his warmth. She tries to think back the last time she was hugged like this, probably by her own mother, when she was fifteen? V freezes in his grasp, arms awkwardly hanging at her sides before she brings them up to lightly pat at his back. Not quite able to commit herself to hugging him back fully.

“…”

“Aye, Santa Madre. Is that how you hug, V?”

She shrugs within his hold, unable to sign while being pulled so close to him. He pulls away, leaving only a hand on her shoulder.

“What’s wrong with how I hug?”

“Everything, don’t worry though, we’ll work on it,” he tells her.

“You’re weird.”

“So,” Jackie switches gears, “Sinclaire, you got a plan yet?”

“Sinclaire lives in the penthouse of a megabuilding. Intel says he should be there today, taking a day off tricking nomads I guess. Need to get in, figure out where the cargo is, and gut Sinclaire.”

“Got a netrunner who owes me a favor, she might be able to get in the subnet for the building, trip the cameras and get us in.”

“Seriously, you wanna waste that favor on me?”

“Eh, T-Bug will help me out again, even if she says otherwise.”

Jackie rolls his eyes and pulls out his holophone, his optics lighting up bright blue as he dials a number, like many folks he has his phone hooked up to his eyes. .

“Hey, Bug, calling in my favor.”

V can’t hear the other side of the conversation, shaking her bobblehead as she waits patiently. Bobble bobble, the dog’s head bounces up and down.

“We’re trying to get into Megabuilding 12, huh…oh I got myself a new partner, she’s cool, don’t worry. Just need you to hack the subnet, get us access, kill the cameras. Can you do that for me?”

A smirk comes across Jackie’s face and he rolls his eyes, before looking to V, “Bug says she wants to be patched through to you, ain’t helping someone she don’t know. “

“That’s fine,” she signs, “I can sync my holophone to my mask just like optics.”

Her mask will display the person just like optic tech can, she has it set so her avatar displays instead of her face so all they’ll see is a picture of the same expression on her mask, and they’ll hear the AI voice as she signs. Jackie taps at his phone as he sends the call to V’s phone as well. Her mask lights up to let her know of the incoming call and she taps accept on her phone, a little video square shows up in the corner of her vision.

T-bug is older than V, most folks are, with dark hair shaved down nearly to her scalp and dark makeup surrounding her big brown eyes. A skin tight black net runner suit clings to what’s visible of her body.

“Hello,” V signs, letting the AI voice resonate through the connection.

“No face, no voice; the hell are you dragging me into Jackie?”

“Stop worrying Bug, V is good people, she just needs to get back at a client who fucked her over. You said you owed me one.”

“Fine, but this goes sideways and I’m frying you both.”

“Not sure you can fry V, but alright. Let’s get our asses moving.”

They opt to walk to the megabuilding, not to leave any trace of traveling out there. It’s not far out and before too long they’re standing before the stairs up to the towering building. Megabuildings are impressive to say the least, giant ecosystems in their own right, rows of rows of the same apartments until you hit the top floors and lower floors dedicated to shops. V tucks her bobblehead into her dufflebag and puts her bag down in a corner by the stairs along with the guitar case, preferring to travel lightly as they axe Sinclaire, she doesn’t need to worry about bashing a guitar into a wall while she’s taking him down.

“You play?” Jackie asks her after a beat of silence, eyes on the guitar case.

“No.” Her answer is flat, monotone through the translator, and she offers no other explanation.

“…talking to you is really gonna be like pulling teeth, ain’t it?”

“You asked a question, I answered.”

“Nah, nah, it’s okay, I spill my soul, let you in my home, my family, my bed; and you give me half assed hugs and one word answers, I get it, chica.”

“There’s nothing to get!”

“No worries, I got time, I’ll know you better than you know yourself, before you…well, know it,” his grin drops as he realized he said ‘know’ entirely too many times in that sentence

“Didn’t think that sentence through, did ya?”

“Shaddup, let’s get this asshole.”

T-bug’s avatar and quick flashes of technological info flashes at a camera as they enter the megabuilding. The imagery showing through to Jackie and V while none of the hundred or so residents buzzing around are any the wiser to what’s about to go down.

“I’m in the subnet, I can see you on cams and cut off the feed to security. Getting you penthouse access now.”

“Efficient as fuck,” V can’t help but sign, forever amazed at netrunners in general, let alone just how quickly T-bug has managed to take care of this.

“Don’t work any other way, besides Megabuildings have shoddy security at best, this is nothing.”

“Honestly, you could hack a toaster and I’d be impressed, this stuff is way beyond my comprehension,” V admits as her and Jackie reach the elevator, T-bug’s avatar just flashing before it opens for them.

“Your mask can work for scanning, get a cyberdeck and I could send you some quickhacks and daemons; set you up with the basics.”

“I’ll have to keep that in mind, never hurts to learn.” Even if she’s fairly convinced she’s too stupid to figure it out.

“So, V’s managed to win you over already?” Jackie comments, grinning.

“More like I’m trying to make sure you don’t call me over petty shit again,” T-bug insists, though there’s no real malice to her voice.

V leans against the elevator wall as it lurches into movement, screens playing the news around them. She smiles behind her mask as Jackie grins, winking before he responds to T-bug.

“You say that but you and I both know you like being part of the team, Bug.”

“Oh, brother,” T-bug says with a roll of her eyes and V can’t help but crack up, she can’t really imagine the two being fast friends; a loud energetic solo and a stoic netrunner. It makes her wonder how exactly they met or what favor T-bug might owe Jackie.

“On your toes,” T-bug speaks up as the elevator comes to a stop, “two guards outside the penthouse door, I’ll run a quick hack to distract them.”

“Get their backs to us and we’ll drop ‘em quiet, T.”

The elevator door opens and there’s a clanging mechanical sound that rings out on the top floor halls. Jackie and V stay low as they leave the elevator; turning a corner to see two of Sinclaire’s guards. They’re looking over a vending machine that’s began to spew energy drinks out on the floor. She suddenly wishes she brought her duffle bag up with her, if only to take advantage and stockpile some drinks.

They creep up behind them, V points at the guard at the left then herself, making it clear she’ll take him and Jackie nods. She gets behind her mark and lurches forward, snapping his neck with a crunch, feeling him go limp under her touch. From her peripheral she watches as Jackie crushes his target’s windpipe with one heavy press of his forearm. Two guards in a pile they stand up straight and make a beeline to the penthouse door. Jackie takes out his pistol, making sure its loaded, while V gets her own gun out, the one she stole from the 6th Street fuck.

“You get a peek inside the penthouse, Bug?”

“No more muscle inside, Sinclaire is in his office, its second door on the left going past the living room.”

“’Preciate it, T-bug.” V signs as the penthouse door slides open. Jackie and her have weapons at the ready as they go in.

Sinclaire’s penthouse is bougie as they come, more proof for her theory that rich people just have no fucking taste. Tacky and gaudy decorations in a lavish open room plan. The disgusting lack of taste nearly distracts from what he has that is of legitimate value; a bar stocked with expensive booze and a tv nearly as wide as a car.

“Doesn’t seem like Sinclaire was hurting for eddies.”

“That’s fine, plenty to sell off if he already moved the cargo.”

“Place giving you sticky fingers?”

“Mmhmm,” she hums as she rubs the dirty heel of her boot against the tacky zebra rug, satisfied when she leaves a smudge of filth in the white of it.

They move through the penthouse, finding the office door, Jackie doesn’t jump to do anything, instead giving her a nod. He’s letting her lead the charge, take care of her own business on her own terms and she’s beyond thankful for it. No desire to be subtle, V kicks the door in, slamming her boot into the door and watching it burst open under her force.

Sinclaire yells out, jolting at the sight of the two mercs bursting into his office. He’s still sat at his desk, hands raised in surrender as he looks at V, then his eyes drag over to Jackie. Staring down two barrels, he still finds it in him to sneer.

“V…see you managed to find yourself a friend in the trash.”

“Pair of crosshairs, both on ya, wouldn’t be mouthing off if I was you,” Jackie warns.

“Someone wi-“

“Already iced your muscle and got control of the cams,” V explains, smirking as his ego deflates, “the only way you’re getting out of here alive is if you tell me where the cargo is.”

“Seriously, all this over some ca-“

V cocks her gun and presses it to his forehead, finger on the trigger, held in one hand so she can still sign.

“Either I get the cargo or I get revenge; take your pick.”

“In the tank behind you.”

“Jackie.” She doesn’t want them to both turn their back on Sinclaire, slimy fuck that he is.

“What don’t trust me?”

She cracks her pistol across his cheek, the force of it knocking him out of his chair and onto the floor. V steps on his back, gun still pointed at his dome as she presses her weight down on him. The pale of his cheek starts to turn purple and she feels just a touch of satisfaction knowing she’s dealt him even a fraction of the harm he dealt her.

“Iguana, lesser Antillean I think,” Jackie calls out and with the new position she’s put Sinclaire in she’s able to crane her neck to see. A large tank with a bright green lizard, black around his face, and red spines down it’s back.

“What!?” Her voice comes out along with her signing, distorting and layering over the artificial one, unable to contain her temper as she looks down at Sinclaire, pressing her foot down harder on him, “did you try to kill me over a fuckin’ lizard!?”

“You got any idea how much that thing’s worth?”

She pulls her foot off of him just to grab his shirt collar, dragging Sinclaire back up to his feet. V keeps one hand wrapped up in his collar and uses the other to press the gun against his back. She shoves him, he tries to resist, but despite their size difference V is easily able to out strength him. The former nomad drags him through his penthouse and out the door, across the hallway towards a door. Jackie’s steps echo through the building as he covers her, keeping a lookout for any new guards that may show. She kicks the door open from behind Sinclaire, the flights of stairs greeting them, one’s going down and the ones that go up to the roof.

“T-bug, roof?” V asks, voice still distorted and echoing through the filter of her mask, unable to sign with her hand full.

“No muscle up there, you’re good.”

“Look, we can talk about this V, w-“

“Move.” She jabs her gun into the small of his back, emphasizing her point. Sinclaire marches up the stairs as she forces him upwards, they reach the final door that leads out and V kicks it open like she did the last before making him walk through.

The former nomad forces him out onto the roof of the megabuilding, cool air hitting her fevered skin. They don’t stop moving, V’s eyes trained on the edge of the roof as she pushes him forward. He babbles, utterances and insistence that they can work this out; but she’s pissed and he has to pay. He’s not going to get away with it, no one is ever going to get away with treating her like this again.

Sinclaire stops moving, feet cemented in place just before he hits the edge, still trying to beg for his life as he resists her pushing on his back and neck.

“V, please, please we can ta-“

His voice cuts to a scream as she shoves him as hard as she can with both hands, knocking him off balance and sending him over the side of the building. She watches as his body plummets; a low whistle ringing out beside her.

“Long way down, ya know I heard folks die before they even hit the ground on falls like that.”

“That’s a shame,” she signs, shaking her head, she wanted him to feel it when his head hits the concrete.

“Feel any better?”

“Yeah, lets klep the lizard and run before someone asks questions.”

“No rush, pigs will just think he offed himself, happens all the time.”

“Good to know.”

“Still wouldn’t throw yourselves a party up there, NCPD might come check the area once it’s reported.” T-bug warns over the comms.

“Yeah, in like two days, chill Bug,” Jackie assures her as him and V leave the roof, taking the stairs back down to the penthouse.

There’s a weight off of V’s shoulders as she and Jackie return to Sinclaire’s penthouse office. She hefts a little sigh as she sees the bright green iguana and she’s reminded of Jackie’s earlier comment, called it a lesser antil-something.

“You know a lot about iguanas?” she asks him, he has Taco after all, he seems to like fish and lizards.

“Ah, saw something about ‘em on the science channel,” he looks to the iguana, calmly sitting in it’s tank, “you come a long way, my scaley friend.”

She can see a softness in Jackie’s smile, and she can’t blame him, the iguana is adorable. Tentatively, V lowers her hand down into the terrarium. She nudges her fingers against the lizard, feeling it’s bumpy skin that’s been warmed under a heat lamp. It’s tail flicks against her just before it turns to knock it’s face against her hand, nuzzling under the touch. She can’t help but smile, signing with her free hand to Jackie.

“Yeah, I’d kill me for him too.”

Jackie laughs as the iguana latches it’s claws into her hoodie sleeve, before climbing up the length of her arm. She lets out a soft little exclamation as the reptile makes it’s way to her shoulder, burrowing itself into the junction where her neck and shoulder meet.

“Awww cuddly fucker,” Jackie coos, smiling softly at V and her new snuggle buddy.

“He’s…probably worth a lot…” She slowly signs, unable to have much energy at the idea of selling him. V wants to make the money she meant to make, iguanas are rare, but…he’s very cute. And maybe she’s too much of a softie for animals.

“Yeah, a shame too, been wanting another pet, Taco’s got some age on him now…Had the name Manny all figured out too.”

“Are the two of you, serious?” T-bug comments, rolling her eyes in the holoview, “all of this and you want to keep the lizard?”

“I mean…I don’t want him to fall into the wrong hands,” V tries to defend herself.

“Iguanas have very specific needs, not just anyone can take care of ‘em,” Jackie adds.

“But you’re like, an iguana expert, basically.”

“Basically.”

“And I mean, if you and Mama Welles don’t mind having me around a while longer, I won’t need the cash right away.”

“Hell no, we don’t mind.”

“Just keep the damn thing and shut up,” T-bug scolds, sick of them trying to justify it.

“C’mon, let’s get Manny home and set up,” Jackie explains, unplugging the heat lamp so he can grab it along with the tank.

“We gotta keep him warm, right?”

“Yep, can’t let him get chilled.”

She nods, deciding to scoop up Manny and move him from her shoulder to putting him in her hoodie, hugging him close to her body over the fabric. V feels a bit like she’s cradling a baby, which isn’t terribly off base. Manny is now her child, she has decided. Jackie starts to carry the iguana stuff out of the penthouse, cutting through the kitchen with V trailing behind him.

V jumps and yelps, a loud popping noises and sparks flying out of a toaster as she walks past. She clutches Manny to her chest, the iguana clinging to her under her hoodie after the startle.

“Impressed?” T-bug asks, raising an eyebrow and V tries desperately to suppress her smile at the joke. A part of her mad that she was caught off guard by the trick, damn netrunners.

“I’m something, alright, scared the shit out of me.”

“Holy shit,” Jackie says with a smile teasing at the corner of his lips, “Bug making jokes, I must be dying.”

“Fuck off, cutting comms, now.”

“Talk to you later, Bug.”

“Hmm, maybe, we’ll see how I feel,” T-bug teases, “nice meeting you V.”

“Thanks again for the help, and the minor heart attack I guess.”

“Anytime.”

“I’m not sure if you mean the help or the heart attack.”

“Could go either way.” T-bug tells her before cutting communication, the woman’s face blinking from V’s mask. The merc laughs, softly at the exchange as she pushes the mask up onto her head. T-bug seems nice underneath it all, colder than Jackie, but most people are. The teddy bear of a guy is hard to compete with warmth wise.

She trails behind Jackie as the pair leave to the elevator. V leans against one wall of the elevator, against one of the bright screens that play ads, looking down at Manny tucked in her hoodie. He’s too cute. Jackie gives her a wink before he hits the button on the elevator and it lurches into movement.

“Once we get little mano here set up, we’ll head over to Misty’s.”

“Misty?” She fingerspells the name out, cocking her head to the side in question.

“My mainline,” he gets a dreamy little smile on his face, “mi amada, you’ll love her, she’s the sweetest thing”

“Oooooh~”

“Jesus fuck!” V yells out and jumps to hide behind Jackie at the sudden keening moan in her ear, holding Manny tighter to her chest.

“Pfff,” Jackie’s shoulders shake, before he busts out in laughter, clutching at his stomach.

Heat flushes up to V’s hairline as she sees the source of her distress, the screen she’d been leaning against now display an advertisement for Milfgaard some cougar website with a scantily clad older woman spreading her legs and moaning. She threw a man off a building and the scariest parts of her day have been a toaster and a porn ad.

“My god, you’re wound tighter than a clock, Jaina,” he teases her.

“Shut up.”

“We have got to loosen you up,” he tells her as they step out the elevator and back out the lobby of the megabuilding.

She carefully pulls her bag and her mother’s guitar case on her shoulders, making sure not to shuffle Manny too much before she trots off behind Jackie. There’s already cop cars pulling up behind the megabuilding as the two mercs disappear into the crowd.

Once Manny is settled in his tank next to Taco’s and V’s stuff is put aside in Jackie’s room; her new friend is pulling her back out of the house. He’s pure excitement accentuated by a wide grin as he shows her the city and god it has it’s problems, what place doesn’t, but there’s something to it. She could write a list of flaws from the corps to the trash, to the cruelty, to the poverty, and homelessness that run rampant there.

‘Hellooooo there Night City!’

But there’s an energy she can’t describe.

Night City has a magic to it, it’s the only way she can define it. Neon lights distract her from the trash that covers every corner. The constant thrum of music helping drown out the just as constant sound of gunfire. Something is magnetic and she understands why so many people are drawn to such a place.

‘Stanley, here with you and we got another day ahead of us in this city of dreams!’

She meets Misty; Jackie’s mainline in her candle lit shop for tarot readings and chakra realignments. The pair adorable as Jackie spins the blonde goth around in his arms. She says V has a nice aura but her chakras are misalligned, which sounds dumb to the merc, but Misty says it with such a sweet smile and V loses the will to tell her as much. Turns out the oil smell in Jackie’s blankets is diluted cedarwood oil that Misty gives him to keep away negative energy and aura blockages.

Misty reads her tarot cards not long after they meet, her cards frayed and worn, as she tells V what the hanged man card means. V doesn’t buy into any of it; but Misty is kind and earnest, the merc willing to entertain her eccentricities if only to say in Misty’s company. V learns her aura is a bright cyan blue, is given a chrysocolla crystal which provides energy for a fresh start, and lavender oil to encourage relaxation and sleep. How Misty knew her sleep struggles, she has no idea, but the lavender does help her relax so why look a gift horse in the mouth. She signs a thanks while tucking the rollerball of oil into her pocket.

‘Ooh, I love this town!’

V meets Vik the same day, trying to hide her nerves at being in a clinic as Jackie and the ripperdoc playfully punch at each other. He’s a sweet older man, tattoos and jewelry showing his love for boxing. He doesn’t even get mad the first time he tries to even look over her and she has a panic attack, accidentally kicking him in the groin, before the ripperdoc glove can even touch her. She apologizes like her life depends on it, hands aching by the time she’s done signing it. He laughs it off, laughs harder when she jokes about not getting candy for being a good patient.

The next time he tries, he stops himself. Face contorting when he’s able to get as far as a diagnostic report this time, seeming stressed by the results. He asks about her autoimmune disease, diagnostics picking up on her overactive antibodies. She can nearly see his heart sinking, like she’s his own child and not just a stranger who freaked out on his table one time. He’s horrified to know her condition has gone completely untreated, that her fear of doctors kept her from getting the treatment she needed. She doesn’t explain where the fear comes from, not wanting to recount her experiences with the clan doctor, the fear of having treatments done against her will. He warns her that while it’s not attacking her eyes or joints as aggressively, overtime and without any treatment it could take the eyes next, the muscles, the joints, the organs. Her entire body could with time destroy itself. Before he fathoms giving her implants, he puts her on immunosuppressants. Making her sure her health is stable, that her body has calmed in attacking itself . Only then, do they go back to the idea of installing cyberware, she even gets a lolly along with her shot and pills; Vik leaning into her dumb joke.

She takes the personal link and neural slots well, cyberdeck and the like added. But the idea of losing her eyes is too much, he says he’ll work with her. He works with her lot, both on the money and with her own discomfort. Vik doesn’t press a “fix” for her hearing, instead beefing up her hearing aids so she has more control over the volume and so she can tune it to police scanners; not that she has any intention of doing contract work for the pigs, but it’s good to know what they’re up to if nothing else. He doesn’t even get mad when she nearly breaks her personal link a day after him installing it, unable to stop playing with the damn thing.

‘Love it like you might love a mother who popped you out on the steps of an orphanage once and now stops to ask you if you got a smoke for her!’

In a few weeks he’s gotten her contacts that work like optics and helped her fashion a choker with the same AI translator of sign language; for when she chooses to ditch the mask. He also has candy, leaning into her dumb joke, and for the first time she feels like she can trust a doctor. And she doesn’t go anywhere else, even if she catches a bullet in Pacifica, she makes Jackie haul her ass to Watson to see Vik.

She soon learns that she and Jackie just work. There’s a synergy to their partnership, an understanding and balance that shows in their merc work. He’s stronger than her, knows the streets and people of Night City better than she could ever hope. But she’s stealthier, quieter, and cleaner in her work. She leads the charge when dropping targets quietly and he runs the show when they’re going in guns ablazing. Though he always tries to keep her safe, perhaps out of care and perhaps out of a sense of obligation. It’d be smothering if it weren’t endearing.

‘Every new day here, means another hundred new arrivals!’

It’s not all cherries on sundaes, the two don’t always get along and butt heads more than once. Mostly over gigs; money vs morality. She won’t take corp or cop cash, unless it’s stolen; they want work they can find some other gonk. Jackie says cash is cash, no matter who’s paying. She gets the pragmatism but can’t do it, shutting down a fixer the second she learns their money is coming from Biotechnica. Jackie isn’t happy, but he respects the call. They agree to disagree, if he wants to take those gigs, he can do them without her. He doesn’t take it in the end, she wonders if he doesn’t want to solo it or if she managed to get him thinking about where his money comes from.

“But only half these gonks will survive a year and that’s if it’s a good one.”

They find a steady routine and flow; working gigs, grabbing lunch with Misty and Vik, more gigs, dinner with Mama Welles, maybe a few more jobs and maybe hitting the bars to spend the eddies they just made. Regular trips to the black market to pick up some ammo and firearms. He has a date with Misty about every week, something V always takes the time to mock. But it’s all in good fun. Some night her and Jackie fall asleep on the couch in a heap watching movies, waking up with Mama Welles having thrown a blanket over them. Other nights she spends at a Kabuki motel, wrapped up in whoever she picked up at the bar.

She experiences her first braindance, loses a tooth when they sneak into the Riot nightclub, gets in another police chase, and sees her first pair of Mantis Blades when they’re coming for her head. V realizes Mama Welles runs the Coyote Cujo and gets better introduced to the staff there; including a busboy named Jake who finds his way into her pants quite easily.

‘And why do these peeps come to NC?’

And then a month has gone by and she has no idea where it went.

V spends her saved back money on a car before she rents an apartment; sick of using the train. Nothing like trying to move a dead body on public transit. Jackie helps her pick it out, the car sold to her by Padre, because every fixer apparently doubles as a car salesman. It only seemed right for her to buy from him and to get Jackie’s approval before she made the purchase. Her bobblehead sits on the dashboard proudly.

She helps Jackie pick out a new deck of tarot cards for Misty, spending an entire day browsing mystical shops before they find the perfect one. Misty adores them and gives the mercs readings as soon as she opens the box, feeling a connection to the cards.

‘Well, to be street samurai like Morgan Blackhand and Waylon Boa Boa!”

Misty and Vik hear her voice, no mask, for the first time on a sunny day after she accidentally launched herself down the stairs in front of the doc’s clinic in an office chair. Laughing as Vik asked her if she was stupid and telling him, “yes.” Because who is she to deny the truth?

In between gigs, Jackie drags her down to Jig Jig street, the most perverse section of Night City. Sex shops, strippers, and joytoys as far as the eye can see. He gives her hell for the way cheeks flush red, they’re there for fun and not business so the mask is off, she’s still not used to the brazen displays of sexuality a person finds in the city. But, despite her awkwardness, she’s far from opposed to it.

‘The greater the risk, the bigger the bounty!”

She childishly demands Vik and Jackie teach her how to box when she finds out there’s a club for it that they both attend. V manages to last a round with Jackie, but only by being fast enough not to get hit, taunting him until he gets a punch in on the second round and knocks her ass to the ground. He apologized a thousand times but all she could do was laugh. Misty has it on camera, as she should.

Misty shows V her little rooftop get away on top of her shop, her zen garden with plastic chairs where they can spend time together when they need a nicer view during lunch, Misty, Jackie, Vik, and V eat their Chinese food takeout or whatever they’ve decided on up there. Once or twice V finds herself going up there alone at night, just to take in the way the neon lights of the city hit the black sky. The city may have been named after its founder, but she finds it more apt to describe when the city is at its most beautiful.

She also gets to witness a rare spat between Misty and Jackie when she catches the merc’s dangling a target over the side of said roof to get information. Jackie letting go of the guy to try to apologize for ruining the aura of the roof; while V struggled to hold him up…and eventually dropped him. But Jackie bought Misty some sage to cleanse the roof, so all well that ends well.

‘Or so they say!’

Another month gone by like she blinked it away.

T-bug starts to work with them again, off and on. Jackie told her she only owed him a favor and didn’t work with him long term. But she reconnects, helping get them more jobs and helping the jobs run even smoother with a trusted security expert on their side. She teaches V how to use quick hacks, but the merc still prefers blades and baseball bats. Mostly just using them to blind folks before she stabs them.

She catches a bullet in Santo Domingo, a 6th street member trying to settle a score and she refuses to go to anyone but Vik. The merc holds her hand to her wound as Jackie drives them to Watson. It’s the first time she’s ever seen Vik mad, he patches her up but he scolds her for hours after, that she should have seen the nearest doc. That she could have died. And she has no excuse, but she knows she’d do it again.

‘But you can only be a major league player for so long!”

A gig drags V and Jackie out to a supposedly haunted old building; Misty tags along, nearly bouncing at the prospect of contacting spirits. V learns that Jackie is afraid of ghosts and spends the entire job trying to entice the supposed specters into eviscerating her. They all leave unscathed though Jackie looked on the verge of tears.

T-bug hacks a Militch training datashard at some point and V decides to try to play through it, interested in learning any new tips or tricks that could help her. The netrunning lessons are the most useful, Bug managing to help even an idiot like V figure out how to do some quick hacks and use daemons. She also gains a new appreciation for being called maggot by her friend. Bug definitely had way too much fun play sergeant.

During a job, Jackie and V hear a man yelling into his phone demanding to know if the person on the other end fucked his wife. They lose their minds laughing and lose the person they were tracking for a good hour. Misty and Vik think they’ve gone nuts when they spend the rest of the day mimicking the stranger to make each other laugh; seeing who can scream “did you fuck my wife!?” the loudest without shame. Jackie wins.

‘The faster you live, the faster you burn out!’

Vik catches her eyeing the projectile launcher system implant; essentially a rocket launcher that goes into the forearm. She’d love to have that sheer amount of firepower at will, plus unlike other weapon implants it’s only on one arm, less intrusive for the cyberware shy merc. The ripper offers to install it for her on credit and she nearly chokes, amazed that he’d be so kind, maybe he just trusts her when she says she doesn’t go to any other doc. But she refuses, not willing to take advantage of his good graces. Deciding instead to save up once she gets the apartment.

She meets Cecelia, a waitress at Tom’s Diner, an older woman with pretty eyes. Jackie nearly rolls his eyes out of his head when V starts flirting, giving her even more shit about V’s taste in older men and women after she gets Cecelia in bed. Along with Jake, she becomes one of her rare repeat bedmates. They’re both significantly older than the young merc, each with children, and not interested in anything deeper than rolling around in the sheets, after all anyone with eyes can see V’s not stepparent material. There’s no danger of them wanting more, so V’s happy to return to them when she wants something more familiar than a one-night stand.

‘If you don’t get a bullet to the brain first!’

Misty gets confused when V signs Jackie’s name sign, instead of fingerspelling it. Optics getting the translation off and muddled. So, the merc is left explaining the inability of optic tech to translate name signs due to their highly individualized nature. Jackie’s name sign to her is only that, his name sign to her. It’s not mind reading tech…yet. Her cheeks flush red when she has to explain that Jackie’s name sign for her is a combination of the sign for the letter ‘J’ and the sign for ‘brother. Fingerspelling J, then bringing that fist with the pinky out onto an “L” shape formed by her other hand. Jackie pulls her into a hug immediately after, nearly crushing the air out of her lungs. She’s less timid during this hug, he tells her she’s getting better, but it still needs work.

Vik, Misty, and Jackie take to trying to learn more sign language; letting V teach them whenever they all find a spare moment. Mama Welles even uses a few, picking them up from V and Jackie. The merc tears up, none of them are fluent, but they’re trying. Trying to learn for her and she’s so rarely had anyone care enough to try for her; her sister and mother the only one of the nomad family who knew it fluently, who took the time to learn. Ava learned a few then stopped bothering. Years of no one caring enough to learn for her, but even with all the tech in the world to get around it, they still try. She doesn’t explain her tears, and no one makes her, Misty just gently rubbing her back as they continue with the lesson.

Jackie helps her with Spanish in return, just as they talked about. Some things are intentionally taught to her, other just picked up. Pendejo is forever ingrained in her head. Though, a part of her wonders how much use it really will be, if maybe Jackie just likes that she has to talk during these lessons. She’s become more comfortable with talking with him verbally. It happens naturally, over their time together. That when it’s just him and her, she’ll find herself talking along with her sign language. But, she’s still tight-lipped when she ventures outside her new social circle. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have it in her to be completely verbal.

Another month gone…

“NC’s Legends! Know where you’ll find most of them?”

Taco passes away, the mini-shark was an older pet even when Jackie first got him. He knew it was coming, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. They hold a makeshift funeral for Taco, Misty and V hugging Jackie as he cries. Mama Welles makes his favorite foods for dinner and V stays with him through a movie night. It doesn’t make things magically okay, he hurts and he grieves the lost of his friend. But he’s not alone and they fall asleep on the couch in a heap. He spends the next night at Misty’s and V finds herself wishing that Misty and Mama Welles got along better, that they all could have been there to support Jackie that first night.

She knows he’s back on the upswing when they find an abandoned grocery cart and he offers to push her around in it. V calls it a dumb idea than promptly climbs inside. Jackie gets a long running start and heavy push of his foot before putting both feet up, letting them ride out the distance, giggling like children. Then they hit a hill and flip at the bottom of it, on the ground staring at the stars and giggling like concussed children.

At some point in the month a client invites them to an orgy after they drop off the goods they were asked to steal. V finally gets her revenge for Jig Jig street, Jackie’s face turning red all the way to the tips of his ears. He refuses and runs to tell Misty as soon as he can, as if even getting the invite makes him feel guilty. Jackie’s the only one who ever finds out about whether V went, a secret she likes to keep close to her heart.

V gets…acquainted with her first exotic partner, that is to say someone who’s had animal based body mods done. She’s seen the cat ears and tails and nearly got bit by a ganger with fangs; but the full anthropomorphic furry mods took her by surprise. Some people played Sonic as a kid and just never looked back, she supposes. Not that she can judge, she did spot the heavily modded bunny exotic girl across a bar and decide why not. It was an interesting night, the fur took getting use to, and she thinks the girl was a little sick of V petting her ears after a while.

Her and Jackie find an illegal firearms dealer, her best friend finding a pair of pistols he loves. They’re embellished with gold and he proudly brandishes them, spinning them in his hands and giving her a grin a mile wide.

And another month finds it’s end.

“The Graveyard.”

She’s fallen into the habit of using her mask during her work and using the choker with the contacts during her personal time. It keeps business a bit more separate and she feels more secure in the hiding of her identity this way, most fixers and clients don’t know what V looks like. not that she worries much about The Herd anymore. The days blink by faster and faster without her ever thinking that her former family might have an inkling of where she is. Despite the polluted air, she’s breathing easier.

There’s a few rumors among mercs and fixers about what her deal is, why she hides her face. From burns, cyberware gone wrong, to some mutated twin stuck on her head. She encourages them, finding each new crazy idea funnier than the last. Her favorite is just telling people she was born with a bad case of ugly and seeing their reaction. None of them are any the wiser when they pass her unmasked on the street, thinking her just some other Night City citizen and not the same merc.

“Matters not where you’re from.”

In her six month in Night City, she finally gets an apartment to herself. Not wanting to have spent half a year mooching off of the Welles family. Even if Mama Welles insists it’s no trouble, that she’s a delight to have around and her stress cleaning has done wonders for their home. She still can’t bring herself to spend the rest of her day living off their good graces. Mama Welles holds her face and kisses the top of her head before she leaves, making her promise to come see her again.

Her apartment is in a megabuilding in Watson, one of the worst districts in Night City, though better than Pacifica she supposes. She’s on the eighth floor, the buildings all get nicer the higher up you get and have at least twenty levels. It is far from grand but it’s hers. Jackie and Misty help her move in, as well as decorate. Putting pictures and fairy lights up over her enclosed bed, another strand of lights across the opening for it and over top of the shuddered windows. And install a sensor on the door that will make a bright red light shine if someone knocks, so she can see it if she has her hearing aids out. The apartment only comes with a microwave and vending machine as far as food goes, no kitchen or fridge. But there is a stash room for weaponry because guns are more important than getting to cook for herself. But beggars can’t be choosers, Misty even brings some purifying crystals and burns sage to keep the energy clean even if the apartment floor isn’t.

She gets to know some of her neighbors and people who run businesses on the services floor of the megabuilding. Wilson runs the Second Amendment gun store on the floor below hers, he’s a curmudgeon of an older guy who runs away most customers with his consistent yelling about respecting firearms. But he doesn’t seem to mind her, maybe because his yelling didn’t scare her away.

“Matter not where you start.”

Brooks is an enby with green cat ears on the floor above her sells V edibles, pot brownies and cookies whenever she has the spare eddies. It helps her sleep a little easier on nights where she doesn’t have a partner and eases some of her anxiety that still pops up every now and again.

The guy who lives in the apartment just below her own is a beat cop named Barry. Something she learns when she’s playing music with her hearing aids out, top volume so she can feel the vibrations rattling her bones and shaking the walls. It apparently shook his walls too and he came knocking on the door. She didn’t get a chance to read his lips when she answered the door, but judging by the drop on his face when she started signing, she suspects he might have been demanding to know if she was ‘fuckin’ deaf or something’. Despite his job, he’s an alright guy and they find themselves talking a few times after laughing off the exchange. If he quit, maybe she’d consider calling him a friend someday.

“What matters here is the walk you walk.”

Things in Night City are good, really good for her. There’s conflict and struggles along the way, she collects new scars. The bullet in Santa Domingo, a mantis blade catching her gut, wolvers skimming her back, and bit by a ganger with vampire mods just to name a few. Night City rattles and rolls her, some days she craves the clean air and open road of the Badlands. She’d be lying if she said otherwise. But there’s an ease in the city, in the people she’s found that make it feel like another home.

She’s laughing and smiling more than she has ever before. V’s able to joke and play around, find a sense of humor and excitement in her life rather than just fear. She’s free to do her merc work, set her own rules and still make a mark. Her and Jackie are steadily carving their place into the ecosystem of the city. She’s showing her strength, her capability, her resilience. She’s not defective, she’s a merc on the rise, a couple fixers go to. She’s got money in her pocket; a roof and food she got with said money.

And she’s got a family, a real one, not made of blood but love. At least she loves them and she hopes they’ve managed to find something in her worth loving. In a dirty city of neon, she managed to find her place in this world, not where she expected but she’s exactly where she needs to be.

‘In Night City, the city of dreams!’

#cyberpunk 2077 #cp2077 #fem v #silverv #johnny silverhand #jackie welles #i hope its not disingenuous to tag johnny when he hasn't shown up yet #can you feel the sun?#aidan becker #aidan v becker

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

Text

The Mettle Of A Man; Part Eleven

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains brief mentions of pregnancy (relating to bodily changes and a C-section) and a graphic depiction of an emotional/nervous breakdown. Stay safe!]

Two weeks and three days.

Danse wasn't exactly certain of what to do. It had taken his squadron nearly three weeks to track down Cutler, so three weeks had become his hard limit almost unconsciously. The paladin had never been overly good at resting on his laurels, but it wasn't like he could single-handedly lay siege to the damn Institute for a retrieval mission.

Returning to the Prydwen without his charge might prove divisive , regardless of how many technical documents Codsworth had procured from the cul-de-sac's abodes.

Speaking of Codsworth…

"Aw, cheer up man." Sturges comforted the robot, who (unless Danse was imagining it) was hovering a bit lower today. "I bet she'll be back any second now!"

"Mister Sturges, as much as I appreciate your optimistic outlook," the robot sniffed dramatically. "I'm afraid that you cannot begin to understand the sadness I feel. I believed for two hundred years that I had lost Miss Vega, and to have lost her once again is...well, it is unbearable , Mister Sturges."

Danse grimaced. Did he actually feel bad for a robot? He was, at the very least, sympathizing with it. What the hell was his world coming to?

Knight Vega certainly kept some interesting company. Aside from the seemingly permanent presence of the elderly Mama Murphy, Sturges, Codsworth, and the married couple of Jun and Marcy Long, numerous colorful individuals had drifted through the settlement over the course of the weeks.

First there was Cait, a woman with hair red enough to put Proctor Ingram's to shame. She blew into town, provisioner in tow, speaking with a thick, caustic brogue and toting a sawed-off shotgun. "I owe Backhand my life." She said shortly when Danse enquired as to what her business was with Vega. "She got me off the chems, so now I keep her goddamn caravans free from pests."

She only stayed for a night, but she insisted that Danse join her for a sparring match. He wasn't afraid to admit that she put him through the ringer , his whole body sore the following morning.

"Tell Handy Cait sends her love!" The woman had called before she departed, giving him a small smile. Danse had ruefully promised to do so, trying not to visibly wince as he waved farewell.

One Robert MacCready followed shortly thereafter, who had acted like Danse being there would raze the town to the ground on nothing but principle. "I dealt with you ass--er, you jerks in the Capital Wasteland." The lithe man scowled up at Danse, pushing the bill of his hat back. He had a sniper rifle slung around his body with a barrel that was almost as long as he was tall, bearing an ornate, quick-slide scope.

"I assume you are used to the charity of former Elder Lyons. The eastern chapter is no longer so benevolent, civilian." Danse growled, pricked by MacCready's blatant disdain for the Brotherhood.

He could tell MacCready wasn't a bad sort, just overly suspicious and prickly. After serving with Knight Rhys for so long, Danse was almost tempted to tell the younger man that he would need to try harder to keep people away from him.

"Backhand saved my kid." Robert admitted one night after he had been drinking by the fire with Sturges. "She...She helped me get the medicine I needed. Helped cure my little boy."

Danse knew he shouldn't be surprised that someone who seemed as young as MacCready had managed to procreate. But as he watched the other man toy idly with a tiny, battered tin soldier that he had pulled from his pocket, Danse felt that perhaps...perhaps Robert had the right to be a bit suspicious and prickly.

The next visitor was a petite, dark-haired woman named Curie who had an incredibly strange accent. She was of the medical persuasion and curious about everything . Danse was a little taken aback by how blunt some of her inquiries were, but he did his best to humor her.

She seemed harmless enough, even if she was hellbent on learning the inner machinations of his entire existence. She asked everything in such a clinical manner, Danse didn't even have the presence of mind to be uncomfortable or embarrassed.

That is, until she asked whether he was sexually active and " when was zee last time you stimulated yourself, Monsieur Danse? " Then he clammed right up, loathing that he could feel his face going hot as he remembered exactly when the last time he had stimulated himself was.

"I will not be answering any more of your questions about my personal matters, civilian." The paladin informed her curtly, caught off-guard by her plaintive cry of dismay at his refusal.

"But Monsieur Danse, I must learn zee secret of your overgrown size! You are so very tall and muscular compared to your contemporaries, my research could result in a breakthrough for your whole species! If you are a genetic throwback, zis could mean-" Sturges finally came to his rescue, ushering the wailing doctor away and shooting Danse a wink that made the paladin huff out an irritated grunt.

Genetic throwback . Dogmeat was a genetic throwback. Danse just...maybe he had good genes. Both of his parents must have possessed more robust constitutions. That was the clear answer.

An elaborately-dressed ghoul had marched down the main road like he owned the joint a few days after Curie had come and gone, only stopping when he realized there was a fully-armored paladin aiming a laser rifle at him. "Whoa! Easy crewcut, you'll harsh my mellow." He exclaimed, taking off his tricorn hat and fanning himself with it. "The name's John Hancock," he continued with a showy little bow. "I'm lookin' for General Vega. She around?"

"Knight Vega is indisposed at the moment, but you're welcome to leave a message, ghoul." Danse gritted out, oddly keen on attempting civility.

Hancock whistled and Dogmeat came running over, immediately flopping onto his back for a belly rub. "Ah, there he is. My favorite of the general's mutts. Sorry, you say somethin'?" The ghoul asked lazily, the pitch-black void of his eyes boring pointedly into Danse's.

The paladin threw his hands up in the air after a moment and stormed off. God damn it, Vega, you could have warned me that you kept such diverse company! he ranted inwardly.

The visitor that had nearly sent him into a conniption was an old synth, its skin ragged and tattered enough to show its inner workings. Sturges chatted away with the damn thing (and its traveling companion, a self-styled reporter apparently named Piper Wright) and Danse just floundered . Backhand made friends with synths?

Ticking mentally over everyone else he had met during his stay at Sanctuary, Danse reluctantly admitted that yes, Backhand would absolutely make friends with synths. Perhaps he should have come to terms with that before everything that had occurred, but now here he was, fully kitted and watching this synth narrowly.

"Come on over and introduce yourself, big fella'. No need to glare from afar." The synth commented wryly. "From what I understand we're all on the same team."

"If it's all the same to you, synth , I'll keep my distance." Danse could tolerate a lot of things. Ghouls, specifically. He had met numerous in his travels and while it was unsettling to converse with them, he knew they weren't all diseased, mindless shamblers despite what the Brotherhood had beaten into him. But synths …

They were the embodiment of mankind's arrogance. Monstrous, uncanny, a mockery of bodily functions. They made Danse's skin crawl.

Piper huffed indignantly, rolling her eyes and pointing a finger at Danse as she remarked loudly to Sturges, "I wasn't aware that Blue had rechristened this place Bigotry Hills."

The synth inclined its head in the meantime, somehow giving off an air of mechanical resignation. "Alright, I'll go first I suppose, since you've forgotten your manners. Name's Nick Valentine. I'm a detective operating out of Diamond City."

Nick Valentine . Danse's mouth became a desert. This , this was the detective Vega sang the praises of when it came to tracking down the man who had stolen her son? "Knight Vega failed to mention that you were a synth." He muttered.

"She probably figured it wasn't relevant. After all, the Institute left me at the curb with another man's memories in my head. Miss Vega did me a good turn after I helped her out with that Kellogg fella'." The synth shrugged. "Let an old bot put a few more ghosts to rest." He dusted off the raggedy fedora he wore, those unnerving golden eyes focused on Danse. "I caught wind that something might have gone a little sour with her infiltration, so Piper and I thought we'd drop by and see if we could offer any sort of assistance."

"And can you?" Danse asked, concern and suspicion making his tone even sharper as he glanced at the woman. Piper stuck her tongue out at him, to his chagrin.

The synth looked regretful for a second and Danse pondered that its face could even convey such a complex emotion. "Probably not, but at least now I know I'm not the only one worrying about our doll Vega." It remarked shrewdly.

Danse blushed guiltily, dropping his gaze from that calculating stare. It felt like the synth could see every damn thing he had ever done wrong in his life and Danse loathed the idea of this machine being able to help where he couldn't. "I'll be watching you, synth ," he blustered. "If you step out of line-"

The synth actually interrupted him, waving a spindly, metallic hand. "You'll what, melt me into slag? I'd be careful, I might do something nefarious like trap you in an intelligent conversation."

…

Danse's sleep schedule had never been anything even bordering on concrete, but now the worry kept him up more than the nightmares. A thousand scenarios ran through his mind, each one worse than the last. His fatalistic tendencies would be the death of him one of these days, and wouldn't that be a poetic end. Death by apoplexy, his heart just exploding under the stress of his own imagination.

No one commented when he ended up abandoning that soft mattress in the front room of Vega's house in favor of planting his bedroll on the floor at the foot of her bed. He spent long hours there every night, disassembling his gun, cleaning it thoroughly and checking over his mods.

When he inevitably gave up on sleep, he would patrol the perimeter. Jun joined him fairly often, the soft spoken man having taken it upon himself to manage the security around the settlement.

"At first, I think Backhand just wanted me to have something to do." Jun mentioned out of the blue one evening, his haggard expression illuminated in the faint light of the moon. "So she told me to uh, walk the property line. Marcy didn't know what to do with me. Hell, she didn't even know what to do with herself . Losing Kyle was…" the man swallowed hard. "Well, the general understood, on account of her own little one. She knew I needed to be kept busy, especially after that close call in Concord. I'm just glad Marcy didn't give up on me." He admitted.

"Why would she have given up on you?" Danse asked, a bit confused that this conversation was even occurring. He didn't do this sort of thing. "Whatever transpired with your child wasn't your fault." He had never asked for the specifics and Jun hadn't volunteered them.

Jun shrugged. "Being married is...full of ups and downs. And sometimes the downs are really, really hard. Too hard. It's terrible, seeing the person you love turn into some kind of...angry husk because of grief and you're grieving too, and you know you can't fix it because-" the man's eyes welled up, his voice hitching. "-b-because you're not strong enough."

Danse's breath caught in his lungs because oh God , that had been him after Cutler. Frustrated, hollow, newly promoted and warming Arthur's bed out of duty as he tried to privately grieve the man he had lost.

It had been Haylen and Rhys who pried him from his depressive, wrathful tendencies. Brandis had suggested that Danse consider sponsoring his own initiates, and recommended him two candidates. The young woman, barely into adulthood, so full of life and eager to learn, and Rhys had been angry like him.

More followed after those two, but they had been his first. He sponsored Dawes, Brach, Keane, Worwick...squire or initiate to aspirant, aspirant to scribe or knight. All the while keeping them at arm's length, reluctant to open himself up again to the suffering that had wreaked its havoc upon him after the loss of Cutler.

Learning about Paladin Krieg's passing during the assault on Adams Air Force Base was a blade twisting in his back. Danse had felt like his entire body was on fire, raw with agony once more as everything he had tried so hard to keep under control collapsed beneath him. He emerged from that particular rubble stoic and grim, and it was shortly after that incident that Recon Squadron Artemis went dark in the Commonwealth.

Brandis was sent to die and you know it! That evening in the barracks had been one of the hardest in his entire military career. Danse had known he was lying, lying to every single man, woman and child in that room that he would pass along any information he learned about Paladin Brandis.

But what else could he do?

"You can't fix everything and every one, Mr. Long." The paladin murmured finally. "You'll only burn yourself out with the effort. All you can do is let time do its work."

"Oh, I know." The other man said calmly, having clearly mastered himself while Danse mulled over his response. "Marcy and I had a long talk about...our son, and even though it still hurts to talk about him, I know someday it won't." He smiled at Danse. "Thanks for listening, Mr. Paladin. I can see why the general likes you."

Danse may or may not have tucked that precious information away, deep down in his heart.

...

Backhand had no idea how many days had passed since she had departed. The Commonwealth was relatively quiet all around the settlement as she took a few steadying breaths after relaying back, bent nearly double with her hands on her knees. Overhead in the night sky, the moon beamed weakly between the thick clouds.

Staggering down the steps that were still attached to the bare foundation, a wave of exhaustion threatened to cripple her. Away from the artificial lighting and brilliant whiteness of the Institute, she abruptly felt like she hadn't slept in weeks. How long had she been awake for?

Bed , Vega decided with a nod. Bed before anything else . With slow, trudging footsteps, the young woman made her way to the house where she had lived before the bombs fell. Whatever time it was, it was obviously late. There wasn't a light on across the whole settlement, and she was incredibly grateful that she would be afforded a few moments of reprieve before she was plied with questions.

Backhand closed the front door behind her, doing her best to be quiet. Danse must be asleep. Either that or he had returned to the Prydwen. Vega was a little startled at how distraught that made her feel, like she had lost somehow.

She stifled a yawn as she jiggled the sticky doorknob to her room and, too impatient to ease the door open, she put her shoulder to it.

The door flew open and she immediately found herself on the business end of a very familiar laser rifle. Vega couldn't help her shriek of surprise and in her haste to retreat, she toppled into the hall and landed hard on her back. "Wait, wait! " She pleaded, throwing up her hands in surrender. "Don't shoot, Danse!"

The paladin just stared down at her for a moment, his brow slowly unfurrowing in recognition as he lowered his gun. "Elizabeth?" He asked, his voice rasping hoarsely.

"Y-Yeah. Hi." Backhand replied, her voice shaky. "It's me." Danse extended his hand, easily pulling her upright off the ground. She half-fell against his body, the large man accepting the weight without a word. "Why are you sleeping in here?" Backhand blurted out the first question she could think of, noticing the disturbed bedroll on the floor at the foot of her bed.

"I assumed that should you return, you would most likely head to your room first." The paladin answered quickly, too quickly for it to be the truth.

Backhand raised an eyebrow. "And the armed greeting?"

"A reflex."

Vega's hands curled into fists on his chest, taking handfuls of his shirt between her fingers. I missed you , she wanted to say, I missed you so much . "How long was I gone for?" She asked instead.

"Seventeen days." Danse replied in a no-nonsense manner. "It appears your infiltration of the Institute was a success." He was watching her closely. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Knight."

Vega wanted to kiss him, not missing the warmth of relief in his eyes despite his neutral tone. She hurriedly peeled herself off of his chest, awkwardly clearing her throat and casting her brain around for an excuse to leave. "I'm...I need to shower." She lied, grimacing. "I was going to go right to bed, but…"

"Take your time. I'll remove my personal effects and return to my quarters." The paladin intoned stiffly.

Backhand grabbed a random assortment of clothing from atop her rickety dresser and fled to the bathroom without another word.

She slid down the door once she had shut it firmly, closing her eyes and hanging her head. What the hell were you expecting, Vega? she chastised herself, starting to unlace her boots. Some kind of fairytale reunion where he sweeps you up into his arms and professes his undying love? And we ride into the sunset? Backhand scoffed, bringing her fist down on the side of the salvaged water heater to get it to function.

Vega stared down at her body as she showered, feeling oddly like a spectator. The faint scar at the bottom of her stomach mocked her, taunting her with the memory of the hospital room, the swaddled Shaun being pressed into her arms…

This was all so wrong.

She pushed the heels of her palms into her eyes hard enough to blind her for a moment, fending off the tears that threatened to close her throat. The scar was placed low enough on her body that the waistband of her underwear concealed it. She didn't have to think about it too often. Usually she avoided looking at it while she bathed, the surgical leftover making complex feelings of grief and resentment war inside her.

Her fingers drew over the faded scar, then rose to brush the stretch marks that striped over her belly from where her body had changed to accommodate Shaun's growing form. And still her eyes were dry.

Backhand emerged from the lukewarm shower and simply sat on the side of the tub, watching the water slowly swirl down the drain. She thought of the Institute, where clean water was just a faucet turn away. Free of parasites and radiation, bearing a faint reek of chlorine that had clung to her hair and skin after bathing.

Her brow furrowed and she toweled herself off briskly, donning the clothing she had grabbed at random. The shirt was too big, unfamiliar, and she realized with a sharp pang of a strange emotion that it must be one of Danse's. Had he done her laundry while she was gone?

The young woman hung her towel up to dry, scooped all her dirty clothes off the floor and padded back across the hall to her room.

Danse, true to his word, had removed his bedroll and pack from the room, leaving no trace of his previous occupancy. Vega dropped her ball of clothes in the corner and sank down on the edge of her mattress, putting her head into her hands.

I believe you will do great things for the Institute.

Her fingers dug into her hair, raking through it in a nervous gesture. She didn't want to do great things. She had never wanted to do great things. All she had wanted was a family.

A child, a husband, a modest house in a quiet neighborhood…

The bombs had taken so much from everyone else, did she even have the right to mourn the life she wished she had? It seemed so selfish, so...petty.

Shaun's crib sat empty by the door like always, but now its vacancy mocked her. Had she ever truly believed she would find her son? Or had she been lying to herself the whole time, trying to convince herself that she could have been a good mother and that it wasn't all her fault Shaun had been taken. Rage bathed her in a comforting blanket of numbness and Backhand clenched her fists, rising from the bed.

With a stilted, furious cry of, " fuck you! " she heaved the empty crib against the wall.

It was a simple enough task to snap the rungs in it, blowing through them one after the other. Next the flimsy headboard, torn from the sides with a shriek of abused screws. Backhand broke it over her knee, pitching the pieces off to land somewhere as the crib teetered on two legs. She grabbed those last two legs, picked the remains of the crib up, and smashed it against the floor with all her might.

It exploded in a cloud of chipped blue pieces, effectively destroyed. Backhand screamed in frustrated anguish, sinking to her knees and wrapping her arms around herself. She hadn't even noticed she was crying, but the tears were hot enough to burn on her cheeks.

She felt running footsteps vibrate through the floor, but she didn't so much as raise her head.

Danse, Danse , those brown eyes so warm and concerned, knelt in front of her. " Easy , Knight." He soothed. Backhand sobbed hysterically, her whole body shaking with each inhale. "Elizabeth." Danse said her name calmly, quietly, his arms falling open.

The woman flung herself into his embrace, gripping his back tightly. Danse held her close, like she was small and fragile and needed to be protected, one hand on the back of her head stroking her still-damp hair. Vega just went limp, weeping pitifully into his shirt.

"By Jove…" Codsworth breathed from the door. "Oh mum, I'm so sorry." She felt a metal pincer rest gingerly on her shoulder and Backhand knocked her forehead against Danse's clavicle when she turned her face to look at Codsworth. "You should have told us, mum. Whatever it is, it's all too much to carry alone." The robot scolded her kindly. "I helped you raise the little tyke, if you recall. We will always have those fond memories, you and I."

"It hurts." Backhand said thickly. "It h-hurts so much. I just wanted him back."

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth." Danse murmured, words laden with sorrow. And he didn't even know what had happened yet!

"I don't want anyone else to be sorry. I-I want to take every one of that smug f- fuck's toys and break them. If he wasn't already on his way out, I would-" Backhand dissolved into seething, nonsensical muttering. "There's good people in the Institute." She said finally. "People who wanted to help. People who need to get out."

"And the Brotherhood will do everything we can to save them." Danse promised solemnly, taking her hands in his own and making a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat as he examined the battered skin. "Christ Vega, you're full of splinters."

"I just...I don't know, I shouldn't have done that." Backhand mumbled, feeling idiotic for letting herself get so out of control.

"Not to worry, mum!" Codsworth cheerily clicked his pincers. "I'll have you squared away in a jiffy!"

Danse didn't let her go as Codsworth painstakingly worked over her abused hands to remove every last sliver. The paladin even assisted when the robot asked, holding her skin taut or flattening her palm out on his own to keep her steady so Codsworth could get a better grip.

Piper appeared in the doorway in the midst of the procedure, wearing a raggedy robe and carrying a steaming mug. "And there's our gal." The reporter said softly. "Heya' Blue."

"H-Hey Piper." Backhand sniffled.

The other woman tipped her head. "Nicky's on his way. You want tea or coffee?"

"Coffee, please. Please." Backhand begged, feeling Danse's hold on her tighten slightly. She was sitting in his lap still, his arms around her while Codsworth worked. She hated herself for enjoying the comfort his proximity provided, hated herself for being too weak to deal with this on her own.

As if he could sense her thoughts, the paladin settled her back more firmly against his chest.

…

She was back. She had come back. Harried and haggard but alive . Danse could feel the tension radiating from her and he wanted to kick himself for greeting her with a weapon at the door. His brain hadn't even registered that it might be her , he had awoken from his uneasy half-doze to someone breaching the door and his body reacted.

Danse wanted to question her. He wanted to grip her to his chest and never let her out of his sight again. He wanted to berate her for being gone for so long. He wanted to lay her down on her bed and--

He shoved that thought away. She was obviously exhausted and worn from whatever it was that she had gone through. Now was absolutely not the time to voice the pesky, budding emotions that warred in his chest.

He could sense the impending explosion hanging heavy in the air like the changing pressure of an approaching storm, but he hadn't expected the rupture to happen so soon. Vega was barely out of the shower when he heard the first crash , her yell of " fuck you! ".

Danse wrestled momentarily with himself, his hands clenching in the fabric of his sleeping bag. Expressing anger could be therapeutic in it's own right, and her getting everything out now might be miles healthier than bottling it all up until she imploded.

But her sobbing cries effectively wiped his plan of inaction. She sounded like she was in agony and Danse didn't even remember tearing the door open. One second he was in his own room and then the next he was on his knees in front of her, " easy , Knight," his voice gone soft and tender in a manner wholly uncharacteristic of the usually stoic man.

He couldn't help saying her name, her first name, even though he felt wrong for doing so. But she pitched forward into his embrace just like Haylen had, weeping as though her heart was fit to break. And all Danse could do, all anyone could have done, he assured himself, was hold her close.

She had no care for the safety and wellbeing of her hands, he realized wryly as he checked them over for broken bones. This was the second time patching up her poor fingers, the first time feeling like a distant memory. Her shredding her knuckles to ribbons on the manual release of his suit, her complete disregard for her own comfort…

Danse didn't move, even when the synth arrived on Piper's heels. Everyone crowded into the room and he knew he ought to feel self-conscious, but now Vega was the one refusing to release him . So there he sat on the floor with her secure in his arms, listening to the entire sordid tale as Codsworth quietly tidied up the mess that had been Shaun's crib.

The Institute was real , and it wound for miles underneath the Commonwealth. They had access to safe food and pure drinking water, all made possible by unimaginable technology. Her son wasn't dead or even a child, but instead old and frail. The years had stretched on longer than anyone could have anticipated between his removal from the Vault and Vega's own awakening.

The advances that made the generation three synths possible had been brought about by utilizing infant Shaun's pre-war DNA, and he was known as Father to all the synths. But he wasn't a father at all, at least not one that anybody would want to have.

"Synths are like lower class citizens to these scientists. Expendable. Seen and not heard." Backhand explained, and Nick muttered something uncharitable under his breath. "They're not people, they're tools. Shit, Shaun even listed them off like that, he called the coursers hammers ." Vega spat. "But they think . They dream. Hell, they grieve even though they don't know that's what they're doing."

She spoke of the courser mourning the loss of his friend, forced to grieve without understanding the feelings he suffered through and Danse was somehow full of sympathy for a damn killing machine. It must just be Vega's compassionate nature transferring to him. There was no way he could actually believe anything like that was even possible.

Spinal recalibration .

Danse wasn't sure why , but he felt a blunt stab of pain at the nape of his neck when she explained the procedure. It was probably psychosomatic, he reasoned. The process sounded gruesome.

Nick flipped back and forth through his notepad, scratching at the side of his head with his pencil. "I'll need some time to look all of this over, sweetheart." He said to Backhand, glancing at Piper. "And you need time to recover," he continued in a gently-chiding tone. "You seem half-dead, doll."

Danse realized with a barely-hidden start that he had begun to refer to the synth as Nick in his mind. What was happening to him? Had he been away from the Brotherhood for so long that he was going soft? Was his moral integrity being compromised?

Or was he just coming to terms with something that he couldn't bring himself to label yet?

Backhand nodded, tugging the paladin out of his reverie. "I really want to sleep." She mumbled. She must have been truly exhausted, because in spite of downing the mug of coffee Piper had procured for her, she was slumped in Danse's arms.

Piper patted Vega's knee, giving Danse a stern glare. The paladin wanted to laugh at her attempt to intimidate him. "You get some rest, Blue. Nicky and I will do our best to compile what you've given us." She assured her.

After the duo from Diamond City had left, Codsworth made a noise like he was clearing his throat. "I'm just so glad you're back, mum." He said, his words weirdly heartfelt for coming from a machine.

Vega reached out and caught one of Codsworth's arms before the bot could leave, the young woman smiling wearily up at the Mister Handy. "I'm glad to be back, Codsworth."

Danse managed to usher her into her bed just as the sun was rising, but she grabbed his hand when he turned to depart. "Wait." Backhand whispered, her eyelids drooping. "Please...please stay? I don't want to be alone, Danse." A lone tear wound its way down her cheek. "Please don't leave me alone."

Danse planted himself in the chair beside the bed, laying his laser rifle across his knees. "I'm not going anywhere, Knight Vega." He promised her solemnly, taking a greedy, selfish moment to push the hair back from her face. "Sleep."

Part Twelve

#fallout 4 #fallout four #paladin danse #fallout fanfic #fallout fandom #paladin danse x sole survivor #paladin danse x f!sole #paladin danse/sole survivor #Eventual romance #paladin danse imagine #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions #fo4 paladin danse #brotherhood of steel

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themusicenthusiast · 6 years ago

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Single Review: “wonderful life” by Bring Me the Horizon

The second single from amo (out on January 25th, 2019 via Sony Music Entertainment UK Limited) -- “wonderful life” – continues to showcase the creativity Bring Me the Horizon possesses and just how daring they’re willing be as they put more distance between themselves and the original metalcore sound that was crucial to their early successes. That makes them one of the more intriguing bands currently in existence, due to the fact that breaking a mold you’ve cast yourself in runs the risk of alienating longtime fans; and for those fans who thought their previous record was a vast departure, it seems that this forthcoming one will be even more eclectic. “wonderful life” alone incorporates a plethora of genres, even subtly hinting back to BMTH’s initial sound while also splicing it with some hard and heavy rock and alternative styles as well as a catchy pop tone. In regard to that pop influence, it relies heavily on a synth as well as some programming aspects, the electronic components generating an undeniable vibe that draws the listener in. All of that culminates with the breakdown. Done in the vein of what one might typically hear in EDM or even hip-hop, it still fits with the exuberant display that defines the track. Primal yet polished, it’s teeming with raw power. The use of some horns in the final moment isn’t to be overlooked, either. As out of place as it may sound, upon hearing it, it just sounds so behooving of the track, allowing it to pull off a triumphant, overwhelmingly positive tone as it finishes strong.

The riff that kicks “wonderful life” off is as classic as could be. A hybrid of rock and nu metal, it’s euphoric in a way but also haunting, alluding to the chaos that’s about to unfold; and when the track cuts loose, it makes sure that it’s an all-out assault, being unrelenting for the next four minutes or so. Self-described as being “mostly word vomit” by vocalist and songwriter Oliver Sykes during one interview, the singer also remarked that the lyrics were done freestyle in the studio. At times you can tell that, specifically during the intro where Sykes sounds as if he’s embarking on a train of thought and just seeing where it goes. Other than that, though, as unorganized as some of the lyrics may seem at times, it could be argued that never has such randomness sounded as significant and meaningful as it does during “wonderful life”. From that intro where he is pondering the gradual decay of the brain that begins when people are still just in their twenties Sykes moves on to an array of topics that constantly feel cohesive. In what some could view as being a bit disturbing, he likens his current disposition to that of an infamous killer, at least in regard to the fact that he wears a smile, masking the deeper feelings he’s experiencing from those around him. That’s crucial to the narrative, though, this latest single addressing the multiple feelings often raging within a person. In this instance, that seems to focus on the desire to be home and simultaneously still wanting to go out and enjoy a night on the town, enjoying the former to an extent but also needing to be a part of the action along with not wanting to be fully “domesticated” just yet. There’s a sort of sad irony about the chorus that works in contrast to the song’s title, Sykes proclaiming “Oh, what a wonderful life!” immediately after singing “…Nobody cares if I’m dead or alive…”. However, it’s difficult to discern if it’s meant to be slightly tongue-in-cheek or rather legitimate feelings that have come to be the new normal; and helping to give the track a little something extra is Cradle of Filth's Dani Filth, the vocalist being brought in to spice up the bridge. His throaty growls are absolutely chilling, and brief as his guest spot may be, it is unforgettable. It doesn’t seem that fans will be able to find any middle ground with this new material, either bound to love it or hate it. Nevertheless, it deserves recognition for what it is. And what it is, is Sykes, Matt Kean, Lee Malia, Matt Nicholls and Jordan Fish continuing to redefine themselves as musicians and a band. Thus far with the released singles there’s barely a thread even connecting this to 2015’s That's the Spirit, just proving that when they got to work writing for amo they didn’t have any self-imposed restrictions. Everything was allowed to flow as it may, and the result has been something that wields a universal appeal while also being a bit edgy. Parts of “wonderful life” do sound a bit more mainstream with more commercial undertones, though at other moments, if you listen carefully, there’s no arguing that Bring Me the Horizon is still very much in touch with roots. Whether he’s screaming or singing (in a surprisingly pristine manner in this instance) there’s a constant ferocity about the ever impassioned Sykes; the music casually bridging together genres that typically wouldn’t even be associated together, which just speaks to the artistry of the musicians that they could pull off a massive soundscape like this in such a cohesive way. Personally, “MANTRA” didn’t connect with me that much, but “wonderful life” is a brilliant piece that challenges preconceived notions of what can and can’t work in music. And hopefully BMTH will continue to push that envelope throughout the remaining tracks of amo. Pre-order amo on: iTunes | Google Play | Amazon MP3 Visit Bring Me the Horizon’s websites: Official Website | Facebook | Instagram | Twitter | Youtube Current Shows: 2018 November 5--Stuttgart, Germany--Schleyer-Halle 6--Hamburg, Germany—Sporthalle 8--Berlin, Germany--UFO Im Velodrome 9--Chemnitz, Germany—Messe 10--Vienna, Austria—Stadthalle 12--Zurich, Switzerland--Samsung Hall 13--Milan, Italy—Forum 14--Munich, Germany—Zenith 16--Antwerp, Belgium—Lotto 17--Frankfurt, Germany—Jahrhunderthalle 18--Dusseldorf, Germany--Mitsubishi Electric HALLE 20--Amsterdam, Netherlands--AFAS Live 21--Paris, France--Le Zénith 23--Birmingham, United Kingdom—Arena 24--Leeds, United Kingdom--First Direct Arena 25--Glasgow, United Kingdom--SSE Hydro 27--Cardiff, United Kingdom--Motorpoint Arena 29--London, United Kingdom--Alexandra Palace 30--London, United Kingdom--Alexandra Palace 2019 January 23--Nashville, TN--Nashville Municipal Auditorium 25--Orlando, FL--CFE Arena 26--Atlanta, GA--Coca-Cola Roxy 28--Fairfax, VA--EagleBank Arena 29--Manhattan, NY--Hammerstein Ballroom 30--New York, NY--Hammerstein Ballroom February 1--Boston, MA--Tsongas Center at UMass Lowell 2--Montreal, Canada--Place Bell 4--Detroit, MI--Fillmore Detroit 5--Chicago, IL--Aragon Ballroom 6--Minneapolis, MN—Armory 8--Dallas, TX--South Side Ballroom 9--Houston, TX--Revention Music Center 11--Denver, CO--The Fillmore Auditorium 13--Los Angeles, CA--The Forum 15--Phoenix, AZ--Comerica Theatre 16--Las Vegas, NV--The Joint at Hard Rock Hotel & Casino April 10--Brisbane, Australia--Entertainment Centre 12--Sydney, Australia--Qudos Bank Arena 13--Melbourne, Australia--Rod Laver Arena

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kuciradio · 7 years ago

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KUCI’s Top 10 Albums of 2017

As the year comes to an end, we asked our fellow DJ’s of KUCI to name their top 10 albums of 2017. After sorting through over fifty nominations, here is our list of our favorite albums that were released this year, with a some words from our community explaining why. We’ve also threw in some honorable mentions at the end! 2017 was definitely a great year for music, and we can’t wait to discover more in 2018. Happy New Year everyone!

10. Citizen - As You Please - (Run For Cover)

“Citizen was a band that I had always known about, but had never quite caught my ear enough to dive into their music. That changed, however, with As You Please. The opening track, “Jet”, is reminiscent of their past work with emotional lyrics and a driving yet somber punk instrumental feel. The following track titled “In the Middle of It All” provides a completely new and evolutionary soundscape for the band, while staying close to their usual deep lyrical content. The album as a whole is easy to listen to for both intent and absent minded purposes. Personal favorite tracks are “Ugly Luck” and “Medicine”.” - Jeremy Bibeau

"After I heard that they had a new record coming out, I just assumed that they were going to continue to develop the sound they decided to go with for Everybody Is Going To Heaven, which is why I decided to pass on As You Please at first. However, after caving in to all of the hype surrounding the album’s lead single entitled “Jet,” I was pleasantly surprised to hear that Citizen had not only made a return to their old sound, but that they had refined their sound to appeal to more of a diverse audience. This is the case for all of the songs on As You Please, not just “Jet,” which made As You Please quite a pleasant surprise upon listening to it for the first time. Much like some of their contemporaries’ latest work, As You Please is by far Citizen’s best and most complete album to date. By combining the best qualities of Citizen’s old sound (i.e. catchy yet intricate guitar riffs, powerful/explosive choruses, and angst fill vocals) with a new found sense of confidence, wisdom, and maturity, as well as more elaborate song structures and piano interludes, you get what in my opinion is the best version of Citizen that has ever existed." - Tommy DeSilva

9. (Sandy) Alex G - Rocket - (Domino Recording Company)

"The songs, while simple, sound absolutely timeless to me. “Proud” sounds like a drive out on the open countryside. “Big Fish” sounds like a quiet confession of strength to a father. “Powerful Man” sounds like a tear jerking show of emotional maturity to a skeptical family. While Alex has always been lauded for his songwriting chops (even earning a Frank Ocean co-write in the process), this is the first record that feels like it has emotional heft to it. " - Stephan Masnyj

"Rocket is revelatory, each song sampling and combining various genres (and creating new, nameless genres in the process) in a completely Alex G fashion. The melancholia, yearning, and dreaminess that pervades this album will tug at your soul in the best ways possible." - Sophie Prettyman-Beauchamp

8. Sampha - Process - (Young Turks)

"Sampha is not one to hold back the heart on his sleeve. While having worked with Sbtrkt and being it's other half, he has finally seem to come out of his shell and give his voice, well, a voice. "No One Knows Me (like the piano)" tells of his past childhood and struggles trying to figure himself out while making the living room his confessional. 'Incomplete Kisses' speaks of unrequited love with amazing lines and utter softness of ones heartbreak. Sampha has shown us his true colors while barely breaking the ice. I can not wait for more albums to come from such an amazing voice in R&B." - T.J. Bingamon

7. Thundercat - Drunk - (Brainfeeder)

"Very solid (and lengthy) release from Thundercat this year with Drunk. Each track on this album is dripping with funky jazzy vibes that make it really difficult to get sick of." - Alex Morrow

"A Personal favorite that could easily go unnoticed from the amount of music set out this year. Thundercat's Drunk is unprecedented in the ability to make emotion through his work with bass. A great album to listen to for long rides in the car alone." - Christopher Santiago

6. King Krule - The Ooz - (True Panther Sounds XL)

"I think The Ooz is one of those albums you really need to listen to a few times before it grows on you. I think it's an amazing follow up to his last album, and I feel like on The Ooz we get a better sense of his Archy Marshall music and sound. The imagery he uses is also interesting and creative!" - Katrina Vergara

"King Krule’s inventive garage punk-jazz fusion and mumbling, growling voice are always worth waiting for. The Ooz oozes creative frustration ingeniously overcame. The esteemed wunderkind who is Archy Marshall really did that." - Sophie Prettyman-Beauchamp

5. Lorde - Melodrama - (Lava / Republic)

"Lorde’s comeback that I didn’t know I needed, putting into words all the themes of finding oneself, looking for love, and just growing up from being a teen." - Caroline Nguyen

"The main narrative surrounding Lorde’s rise to prominence has been her authority for her age (as of now, she is 21), and that has never been more apparent than her clear-eyed analysis of teenage years on this record. “Homemade Dynamite” dissects the social dynamics and self destructive tendencies people often have during a party with surgical precision, while “Supercut” takes a relationship in retrospect and understand that memories of a lost lover usually have a rose-colored tint to them. The most stunning cut on the record is “Writer in the Dark,” a song that embodies the hate, regret, and mourning that often comes directly after the end of the relationship. The way Lorde is able to thread the needle between all the separate emotions throughout the verses and chorus is nothing short of stunning, and her vocal delivery delivers an emotional depth Adele would kill to have." - Stephan Masnyj

4. Alvvays - Antisocialites - (Polyvinyl Record Co.)

"Alvvays are such an awesome band, and in my opinion, Antisocialites is nothing short of a masterpiece. Characterized by jangly guitars, dreamy synth parts, poppy vocal melodies, and lead vocalist Molly Rankin’s soothing voice, the songs on this record sound as though they were taken straight from Indie Rock/Dream Pop heaven. While listening to this album, one can easily lose themselves in the dreamy nature of some of these songs. That’s not to say by any means that this record “drags on.” In fact, no two songs sound alike on this album, which definitely showcases the versatility of Alvvays’ musicianship as well as their ability to keep listeners on their toes." - Tommy DeSilva

“I was over the moon when I found out Alvvays was coming out with another album. Their self-titled is one of my favorites, so I was eager to know what they had in store for their sophomore album. When I first heard "Dreams Tonite" I knew the rest of the album would be just as great. This album is your indie pop dream, with a different feel on each track.” - Caitlin Ison

3. Kendrick Lamar - DAMN - (Top Dawg / Aftermath / Interscope)

"Releases by Kendrick Lamar never go unnoticed and DAMN certainly did not when it dropped. By far a definition of modern classic and experimental." - Christopher Santiago

"Kendrick Lamar's DAMN is an insightful look into the rapper's past life and future. While K. Dot relays the album to be the story of his father coming into a close call of having an alternative life ending, but while still relating to his current life woes. Thru tracks like 'Yah' revealing the grittiness of Compton blue-collar work, to 'Love' a record boasting of vulnerability and questions, Kendrick delivers yet another piece of his life's work and puzzle." - T.J. Bingamon

“From my perspective, it’s weird to think of Kendrick at the top of the pop charts; I always saw him as a supremely talented artist who’s ambitions ran deeper than pop radio. However, it turns out Kendrick can release pop hits while still maintaining the endless depth his raps often do. “Humble” is both a boast and a self-aggrandizement in the form of a three minute pop song. “DNA” is a firestorm of a rap that examines the good, bad, and ugly that exist within all of us.” - Stephan Masnyj

2. Tyler, the Creator - Flower Boy - (Columbia)

“Flower Boy is Tyler, the Creator’s fourth album, and encaptures his wittiness and internal conflict through a softer side with the use of neo-soul and the sounds of early 90’s hip-hop. He delves deep into his emotions in a mere 47 minutes, making this one of his most intimate and sincere yet shortest album. It focuses on isolation, the falling-out of friendships, and the pain of unrequited love, themes many listeners can find relatable. The whole feel of the album holds such a significant difference from Tyler’s older albums, which really goes to show his growth, not only in his music, but as a person.” - Raenna Caguioa

"Whenever Tyler, the Creator would release a record following his breakthrough “Goblin” in 2011, the question always remained the same: When will he finally grow up? His talent was always palpable, the dizzying raps in “Yonkers” and the emotional story in “48” showed his talents as a writer, and his growing production credits on “Wolf” and “Cherry Bomb” showed that he had a distinct style within his musical repertoire. Yet he always fell back on his worst tendencies; frequently using homophobic slurs or creating worthless posse cuts that did nothing but ruin the flow of his records. All of that changed with Flower Boy, easily his most cohesive and mature record to date. Much has been said about his alleged coming out in the record (a subject that Tyler has remained mum on since the album’s release), but it isn’t stated enough just how wonderful this record sounds. The strings and horns that dot highlight “See You Again” are stunning, and the queasy synths that Tyler has used in the past take on a new urgency on “I Ain’t Got Time.” Every single rap, beat, and instrument inform each other throughout the record, and not a single thing sounds out of place throughout. “Tell these black kids they can be who they are,” raps Tyler on the highlight “Where the Flower Blooms.” For the first time in his career, Tyler sounds like he’s living those words to the fullest." - Stephan Masnyj

1. SZA - Ctrl - (Top Dawg / RCA)

"I felt like this album came out at the right time in my life. The deeply personal lyrics on every song made it weirdly relatable for me. SZA really refined her sound since her last album titled Z. I love the concept and every song on this album. " - Yasmin Moradi

"An album that needs no explaining, SZA's Ctrl ups the ante with her debut studio album, most well known for her features prior to this, she makes a name for herself with this anecdotal release." - Christopher Santiago

"It's no wonder SZA is probably one of the biggest artists to emerge out of 2017. I hadn't listen to her prior, but there was so much talk after Ctrl was released, I knew I had to see what the fuss was about. To say the least, I was not disappointed. Of course there are the standouts of the album, "The Weekend" and "Love Galore," but there are also some underrated tracks like "Drew Barrymore" and "Prom." Personally, I think an artist's biggest success is when they can make a listener feel their emotions, regardless of if they can relate to the song or not. I felt SZA's emotions in every single track, and I don't think I've really ever been in any of those situations. I thought that was really beautiful. Also, it's hard not to fall in love her incredible buttery voice." - Caitlin Ison

"I love this album because all the songs are bangers but they also make me cry. One publication called Ctrl an album about side-hoe anthems but that's so far from the truth! SZA sings about insecurity, adjusting to adulthood, and bad relationships with such honesty. Anyone can relate to her struggles of going through your twenties feeling vulnerable, whether you're a side hoe or the main." - Katrina Vergara

"Where do I start? SZA’s vocals are gorgeous and lush, earnest and biting, confident even when expressing pain and insecurity. It’s a versatile album you can both cry to and dance to, mixing elements of R&B and lo-fi indie rock. It’s a reminder of female strength and independence, and even has an ode to the vagina that simultaneously disses ungrateful, trash dudes. SZA is a normal girl with the same wishes and fears as the women who listen to her music, her lyrics resonate with those of us who are still finding our way and learning how to love and respect ourselves. It’s like sitting down with a good friend who laughs with you, cries with you, and always knows the right thing to say, helping you regain your own power. Ctrl is what it feels like to be a woman." - Sophie Prettyman-Beauchamp

Honorable Mentions

The XX - "I See You" (XL Recordings)

"A perfect balance between pop and melancholy, with songs like "Dangerous" and "On Hold" upbeat despite lyrics suggesting doomed relationships. Meanwhile, "Say Something Loving" and "A Violent Noise" are filled with the emotional angst that has made the XX so popular." - Jarrett Lovell

The Drums - Abysmal Thoughts - (Anti-)

"You can always count on The Drums to deliver a fantastic surf-pop inspired album, and they do it once again with Abysmal Thoughts, the title appropriate for 2017 indeed. The album does have its fair share of these, as Jonny Pierce, blessed with an airily angelic voice, grapples with heartbreak and feelings of nothingness on “If All We Share (Means Nothing)” and chastises the upper class with “Rich Kids.” Nevertheless, The Drums remain beachy goodness with the beloved simple riffs and chords that bounce along, tambourines, cooing backing vocals, and 80s-esque synths that are sure to leave you dancing through your tears." - Sophie Pettyman-Beauchamp

Tigers Jaw - spin - (Black Cement Records)

"This record felt like it took forever to come out seeing that many of us Tigers Jaw fans had been talking about it ever since their last record Charmer came out in 2014 along with the announcement that Tigers Jaw would from now on be a two-piece band solely featuring founding members Ben Walsh and Brianna Collins. Would they be able to make a record by themselves? Would it sound as good as the original lineup? Two questions that had lingered for quite some time amongst the Tigers Jaw fan base. After making us anxiously wait for over three years (which producer Will Yip made even more dreadful by dropping little hints about the album here and there for like six months), Tigers Jaw finally released spin earlier this Spring, and as you would expect, it was definitely worth the wait. Tigers Jaw have always been an awesome band who have consistently put out great records from front to back, so for me to say that spin is their best album would be kind of stretch, but it’s pretty damn good and should be in that conversation. While staying true to the sound that the original five piece version of Tigers Jaw developed, Ben and Brianna were still able to add their own personal touches to the songs on this record, especially since they were both in charge of songwriting duties for the first time (spin is the first Tigers Jaw album that Brianna has contributed songs to). The thing that I like the most about spin is that you can really tell that Ben and Brianna spent a lot of time on these songs and put their best effort forward to make them the best that they could be in every way. Every song on this album is well crafted both musically and lyrically. No two songs sound the same and everything sounds perfect down to the smallest detail. I really appreciate great musicianship like that, and I look forward to hearing what Ben and Brianna have in store for us next as they continue to keep Tigers Jaw not only alive, but alive and thriving." - Tommy DeSilva

HAIM - Something to Tell You - (Columbia)

"By far, my favorite record that was released this year. I've been a huge fan of HAIM since their first album, which was released when I was in high school, and I had that sh*t on repeat for days. I remember finding out that the three sisters were working on new material, and I was literally counting down the days to hear their new single, "Right Now." The video of them singing the track live in a studio was so raw and filled with emotion, it left me speechless. I knew this album was going to be packed with tears and heartbreak. I love this album because while it dwells on the hurt and pain one can experience in a romance that could've been, the music contrasts it with its upbeat, dancey tones. This album really has got that Stevie Nicks / Shania Twain vibe (which is fitting because they chose to cover "That Don't Impress Me Much" for their tour), and mixing that with their HAIM sound really makes it a memorable record. One of my favorite characteristics of this band is their bad ass attitude, and although it's a record about heartbreak, you can still feel that energy throughout." - Caitlin Ison

BROCKHAMPTON - Saturation II - (QUESTION EVERYTHING, INC. / EMPIRE)

“Arguably Brockhampton’s best album. Nearly every song is one I can jam to (or if it’s the last song- one I can cry to). I love Brockhampton’s unconventional rap lyrics and I think it makes them stand out from up-and-coming artists. They really are the best boy band since One Direction.” - Yasmin Moradi

"BROCKHAMPTON came out with 2 other albums just this year but I would say this was the most iconic one. With this album they really established a signature sound and the members were able to find their voice within the boy band. Even though Pitchfork didn't give this album a good score, I would give this album a 10/10 if not only for cultural impact but for how good SWEET is." - Katrina Vergara

Hot Flash Heat Wave - Soaked - (OIM)

“HFHW’s sophomore album is what I like to call a true sound of the (indie rock) times. Soaked is a big step in a new direction, after Neapolitan delivered hard hints of garage rock and sunshine pop; this album rides a chiller, more ambitious wave, reflecting contemporary rock genres like Slacker Rock and Jangle Pop [The Smiths, The Beatles, Mac Demarco, Homeshake], while still giving into sunny roots of Surf and Garage rock [The Beach Boys, The Strokes]. The record clocks in at just under 40 minutes, while delivering two more tracks than its preceding album. One play-through will not be enough, especially on that cozy summer day.” - Spartacus Avina

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arctiinae · 7 years ago

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Anger headcanons for Fallout 4 companions

I actually sent @zirawrites an ask about anger headcanons for the different Fallout 4 companions but then I ended up sitting on the idea for a while and decided to write some out myself. Been wanting to write again, so this is a good excuse. Not all companions are there bc I'm not familiar with all of them yet, but feel free to add to this! (also please let me know about spelling mistakes!)

Cait: Is angry a lot, and at a great many things. Her anger is aggressive and very strongly externalized, but not dangerous unless you happen to be something that's been trying to kill her. When angry, Cait rants, raves, snaps aggressively at people, says things that are meant to be demeaning or hurtful. She goes looking for fights and often gets hurt in the process, deliberately. She vents her anger very openly but it dies down quickly, too, and she will not hold grudges over petty things. It's entirely possible that she would break your nose and then invite you for a drink, because once her anger at a specific thing or person has been vented out, it is gone.

Codsworth: Does not really get angry. He can be plenty indignant, scoffing and loudly wording his displeasure, but his programming does not really allow for full blown, boiling anger. His irritation is quickly forgotten and his mood defaults very much towards cheerful. If he dislikes people, it is mainly because the Sole Survivor dislikes them, in which case he will be either icily polite or snarky towards them, depending. He holds grudges, but only from slights against the Sole Survivor, not against himself.

Curie: Had to learn about anger very suddenly when she acquired her new body, along with a wide range of other emotions. The first time she got really angry, she ended up crying and hyperventilating, frustrated beyond measure at both the situation that set her off, and her inability to get a hold of herself. She is uncomfortable with being angry, because she feels it clouds her judgment and ability to act rationally. But despite her overall cheerful and enthusiastic behavior, she get angry a lot. At mundane things - like her body not working the way she wants it to, or not understanding a joke - as well as bigger things, like the state of the world and the loss of knowledge. She rarely acknowledges the feeling when it happens, though, and pushes it aside in favor of trying to rationalize the situation and focusing on what is important. If she feels her anger is justified, she will confront people about it, expecting them to cede to the voice of reason. If they don't, she is as likely to disengage as she is to break down crying. Curie does not deal well with anger and human idiocy. She is very quick to forgive, even after multiple offenses.

Danse: When angry, will be snappy and short, somewhat aggressive but not violent. Despite what you could expect from a guy who's constantly parading around in power armor spouting army propaganda, he has a pretty good grip on his emotions, and doesn't take them out on his companions. He's not too likely to vent it out in battle, either, aware that clouded emotions can and will negatively affect a soldiers performance. If he needs to blow out steam, he will do so by sparring or training. He will be much less in control of his anger when around non-humans, though, and much more likely to snap at them and react to perceived slights with violence. He holds grudges, but gives people a chance to redeem themselves through positive actions.

Deacon: Is practically impossible to get truly, aggressively angry. Deacon is snarky, distrustful and deceitful, a trained liar and excellent actor, and as such he needs to have a really good grip on his emotions. He will play along, provoke, taunt, flatter, flirt and threaten his way out of any situation, and does an excellent job at not letting anything get to him. Or, rather, at stomping down and bottling up any emotional responses he might have because they do not fit his plan. It takes a lot to break down Deacon's emotional walls. It would require earning his trust and then betraying it in the worst possible manner, or seriously hurting someone he is attached to, and there are not a lot of people this applies to. But if you manage to make him snap, he fucking snaps. Deacon angry - truly, deeply hurt and angry - is a terrifying, murderous whirlwind of destructive rage coupled with professional, deadly competence. When he took down the Deathclaws, it was messy and gory and an absolute bloodbath. Now he has years of Railroad experience under his belt to top it off, and getting on his bad side enough to make him loose it would mean a slow, excruciatingly painful death, and no one would ever find your corpse. As for grudges, Deacon will hold them pretty much indefinitely, but be surprisingly cheerful about it. It won't stop him from working with someone, but he will make sure to be completely insufferable the entire time.

Dogmeat: Much like you would expect from a dog, an angry Dogmeat is a growling, snarling mess of teeth. He bites, and he bites hard. It doesn't happen very often, though, and mostly out of self-defense or to protect his favorite humans. Dogmeat remembers humans that he registered as thread before, and will remain wary and threatening around them.

Nick Valentine: Much like Deacon, angering Valentine is a herculean feat, although not for the same reasons. He is not easily provoked, having heard every kind of insult ever that you could throw at a cop, at a detective AND at a synth before. If he does get angry, it will be a quiet, seething but driven sort of rage. He does not raise his voice, doesn't rant or rave or lash out, but rather sits down and quietly, efficiently breaks down the problem and sets out to solve it, stubbornly keeping at it even if it seems hopeless. Valentine's anger is the kind of anger that gets shit done. In truth, though, you are more likely to disappoint him than you are to truly anger him. But let's face it, no one wants to be on the receiving end of one of Nick's disappointed looks. They are too powerful. Contrary to what one would expect, though, Valentine does holds grudges. It takes a lot to make it into his bad books, because he is always inclined to see the best in people, but if you make it onto his shit list, you're probably stuck there for the rest of your life. It also might not end well for you. Ask Eddie Winter about it.

Piper Wrigth: Gets angry fairly often, and like Valentine, her anger is the kind of anger that pushes her forward, drives her to take action and get shit done. However, unlike Valentine, Piper's anger is loud, outspoken, biting and very much in-your-face. She will rant, she will shout, she will provoke and get all up in people's personal space and yell and threaten and terrify. She is scary when she is angry, and you do not want to stand in her way when she gets worked up, because you will be collateral damage. Piper holds grudges and will absolutely drag your name through the mud if you give her a reason to. This woman knows the power of the press, and while her greater goal is the pursuit of the truth, she is not above using her skills for petty revenge.

Preston Garvey: Tends to internalize his anger a lot, and redirect it at himself. It does not show much towards the outside, other than his tone getting more cold, more formal. He will express disagreement, and put his foot down and try to defuse or fix the situation, but he very rarely shouts or gets loud about it. But he will often be angry at himself for longer than he is angry at whatever set him off in the first place, replaying the situation in his head over and over, poking holes at his own behavior and trying to find what he did wrong, what he can do better next time, how he misstepped or misjudged or failed, even if he really can't be blamed for what happened. Much like Curie, Preston is quick to forgive and trust again, eager to believe in people and give them another chance. Slight him often enough, and he will be wary and tired, but still can be bullied into giving people one more chance. Just one more. One more.

Strong: Is angry pretty much all the time, and proud of it. Anger is an inherent part of his personality. Perhaps a side effect of the FEV-virus, since most super-mutants tend towards volatile and murderous. Strong's anger fluctuates between a quiet, rolling wrath and an all out screaming rage, and can be directed at nothing and everything, depending on the situation, but it never really goes away. Surprisingly, he does not hold grudges much. Maybe he considers humans unworthy of such attention, but his feelings towards them range from disdain to begrudging respect, and leave little space for angry resentment. People are worth his time, or they are not. Simple.

Companions I skipped because I am not familiar enough with them yet: Hancock, MacCready, and X6-88.

#fallout #fallout 4 #Cait #Codsworth #Curie #Danse #Deacon #Dogmeat #Nick Valentine #Piper Wrigth #Preston Garvey #Strong #… you can totally tell which ones are my favorites by how much I wrote xD

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thechiyodan · 7 years ago

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K1-71 (Kitty Johnson)

K1-71, or Kitty, is an Institute Courser, primarily kept in the SRB and used as an internal enforcer in the Institute. Kitty rarely, if ever, leaves the Institute, but will do so when recruited. Kitty can only be recruited after Mass Fusion is completed for the Institute.

S4 P7 E5 C7 I9 A8 L6

Inventory: Courser Uniform, Institute Pistol, Synth Component (upon death), Med-X (2)

Perk: Upon reaching maximum affinity with Kitty, the player is granted the Perfect Structure perk, granting a 10% bonus to limb durability.

Loves: Destroying the Prydwen, calling Diamond City disgusting in Piper’s interview, destroying the Railroad, entering Power Armor (once every 2 hours)

Likes: Hacking terminals, telling the Vault-Tec rep that you use the blood of your enemies, entering Covenant for the first time, using threatening dialogue, cannibalizing corpses

Hates: Killing Synth Art, recruiting Strong or Hancock, becoming the General for the Minutemen, joining the Brotherhood of Steel

Dislikes: Giving Sheffield a Nuka-Cola, executing Danse, using peaceful dialogue, protecting the Peabody family

General Ambient: "I can’t understand why people would even want to survive out here when they could just join us.” | “I’m not carrying that disgusting thing.” | “Living in an old baseball stadium, and they call this a great jewel? Please.” | “This ‘Goodneighbor’ is an absolute cesspool. Get what you came for so we can leave.” | “Gear upkeep is important. Good idea.” | “That is... your spouse? A shame.” | “Are you ready to continue?” “Very good./A foolish decision, but yours to make.” | “I’ll return to our base. Try not to die.”

Lockpicking: "Interesting use for those.”

Hacking: You and I make that look so simple.”

Swapping Others For Kitty

Strong: Pretty lady instead of Strong. Okay.” Kitty: "Don’t come near me, beast.” Piper: "If you even think about hurting Blue...” Kitty: "Go on, human. Finish your sentence. I dare you.” Preston: "I’m not telling you how to pick your friends, General... but...” Kitty: "Hah. Angry that a competent person was chosen instead of a boy playing dress-up?” Danse: "Don’t come near me, you abomination.” Kitty: "A shame you’re so dim-witted, Danse. You’d make an excellent servant.” Hancock: "Don’t let this robot dictate your choices. Remember your morals.” Kitty: "Cheap words from a drug addicted anarchist.” Valentine: "Not sure what good you’ll be doing with her around.” Kitty: "Shouldn’t you be cleaning something, unit? Or are you as defective as you look?” Cait: "Replacin’ me with this witch? Ye hit yer head?” Kitty: "Sometimes a mission calls for finesse. Is that in your vocabulary?” Curie: "Madame le Chat, please do not endanger Madame/Monsieur.” Kitty: "I would never endanger our future Director, unit. You can count on that.” X6-88: "Good luck on your mission, K1-71.” Kitty: “You know as well as I that a Courser needs no luck. But thank you, X6.” MacCready: "You’re up, Kitty. Er, ma’am.” Kitty: "Ugh, please take a bath while I’m gone.” Deacon: “Seriously? Her?” Kitty: "Seriously. Me.” Codsworth: "Miss Johnson... please take care of my master/mistress... I worry so much when they’re gone.” Kitty: "They’re in good hands, unit.” Dogmeat: "[Untrusting growl].” Kitty: "Beat it, mutt.”

Swapping Kitty For Others

Kitty: "I’m guessing you need a heavy hitter.” Strong: "Strong hit the hardest!” Kitty: "Let’s hope your aim is as good as your snooping skills, human.” Piper: "Wanna find out?” Kitty: "Garvey.” Preston: "Johnson.” Kitty: "Well, I suppose he’s good for something.” Danse: "Don’t try to butter me up, freak.” Kitty: "Hancock. I thought I smelled something.” Hancock: "Can it, people snatcher.” Kitty: "Couldn’t you dress your toy a little nicer?” Valentine: "I’ll be sure to file your complaint to the Important Files, next to the garbage can.” Kitty: "Put those fists to good use, human, and keep our future Director safe.” Cait: "I ain’t doin’ it fer you, ye bot bitch.” Kitty: " Faites attencion.“ Curie: "Merci, madame.” Kitty: "I trust you to take care of the future Director, X6. If anyone could, it’s you.” X6-88: "You’re too kind, K1-71.” Kitty: "Trusting your safety to a little boy? How foolish.” MacCready: "Hey, I’m not that little!” Kitty: "We’ll be watching you carefully, Deacon.” Deacon: "Watch me not care.” Kitty: "Wouldn’t a Mister Gutsy be more efficient?” Codsworth: "No Gutsy would be as dedicated as I, Miss Johnson. Count on that!” Kitty: "Stupid dog.” Dogmeat: "[Angry growl.]”

Quests

No personal quests.

Kitty will occasionally provide Rad Away.

Like, X6-88, settlers and citizens will view Kitty with unease and fear.

#fallout 4 #Sole Survivor Miss Kitty #fallout oc

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musikmusing · 8 years ago

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ARRIVING AT ‘THE ALTAR’ WITH BANKS: A TRACK-BY-TRACK REVIEW

(By Regan Wojick for Atwood Magazine)

The artist known as BANKS started out somewhat of an enigma. The Los Angeles songstress, who drops her first name Jillian when she hits the stage, rarely ever made waves on the black holes that are Twitter and Instagram. It only added to her mystery. Really, social media presence isn’t entirely necessary when your music speaks for itself. In 2013, she released two EPs, Fall Over and London, lighting a widespread fuse for BANKS . Without breaking a sweat, she absolutely lived up to all of the well deserved hype.

Late in 2014, BANKS put out her first full length, Goddess. The album was on everyone’s playlists, whether they were into pop, indie, electronic, R&B, etc. At the same time BANKS was able to isolate her listeners yet reach out to eclectic groups of people by referencing influences like Tracy Chapman, Fiona Apple, and the Weeknd. Goddess was an in depth look into the pain and passion revolving around love in relationships. Jumping forward two years, after long months of touring and releasing singles here and there, we have arrived at The Altar (released 9/30/2016 via Harvest Records).

In religious terms, the altar is symbolically a place of sacrifice. It may seem like an old-fashioned tradition now, but a majority of weddings have happened at the top of an altar, where the groom awaits his life partner. It raises the important question: Do love and sacrifice go hand in hand?

When BANKS is involved, the answer seems like an absolute yes. Perhaps, it is the sacrifice of giving up independence. However, it is never that simple with the multi-layered singer. With an album like The Altar, you can’t just look inside the thematic box; you need to look around, under, and above the box. It’s possible that the album works as her altar as she bears all in front of the world, when her own timidness could not let her do so before. The Altar is a place where things are front and center. BANKS can be BANKS, with her emotional curtains drawn.

Any fan cannot help but notice the drastic difference between the two albums visually, lyrically, and sonically. On her debut album cover, Goddess, BANKS is almost unrecognizable as she was hiding behind her dark bangs and the deep red album art. Again, running with her mysterious persona. While The Altar’s cover is different in every way possible. The album art is light gray with her au naturale face front and center, embracing her freckles. (What? BANKS has freckles?) Just by the look of the new record, you can sense an aura of change.

She has grown in confidence, and is welcoming it with open arms. With each song, you can hear the gradual evolution of BANKS: from a shy, less controversial singer to an artist with bold lyrics and vocals that are not be messed with. The Altar takes a similar approach following her debut, musically, but amps it up even more. Each beat hits harder and each synth is striking. Although her last album was entitled Goddess, BANKS has embraced the Goddess she is supposed to be more than ever.

Gemini Feed

The opening track of the album sets the mood for what listeners can expect for the next 12 songs to follow: honest, passionate electronic pop music with indisputable soul. BANKS sings each emotional line in a lower, growling almost frustrated, voice. We can all relate to a time when, no matter how loud we spoke, we couldn’t get through to someone; pride works as a barrier, deflecting anything and everything having to do with feelings.

“I tried to say I love you but you didn’t hear me And you’re passive aggressive Convinced me other people they don’t care about me”

BANKS reflects on the way she was treated by her passive aggressive ex. While she was only trying to mend their spiraling relationship, he only brought her, and her crushed ego, down.

So, what exactly does being a Gemini entail you might be wondering? With the growing obsession of astrology signs, it’s slightly shocking that you don’t know, but I’ll refresh your memory. The sign represents a pair of twins, so Gemini’s often have dual personalities and you might not know which personality you’re dealing with. Putting two Gemini’s together might not exactly end in harmony.

“When I said I miss you, you never believed me And we were so depressive You and me together we were Gemini feed”

Likeness and differences can make or break a relationship, and in BANKS’ case, they may have been too similar to work their differences out.

“And to think you would get me to the altar Like I’d follow you around like a dog that needs water But admit it that you wanted me smaller If you woulda let me grow you coulda kept my love”

In the verses, BANKS may have been using a gruff voice, but by the piercing choruses, she was ready to get her point across. Loud and clear. The last chorus is where listeners are properly introduced to The Altar. When she looks back on the relationship she was in, she can hardly believe her love was almost sacrificed to be with a man who made her feel lesser than he.

Fuck With Myself

BANKS gives us a lesson in self-love with the fervent and sexy “Fuck With Myself.” The second track, and the first single released off the album, reeks of imitable confidence. There’s a definite cockiness to song, but it feels more like well deserved self assurance. The song explores different electronic sounds, and uses familiar hip-hop beats making it fall somewhere in the left field pop, R&B region.

The song reiterates, in it’s own unique way, that you need to “fuck with yourself,” or love yourself, before you should step up to the plate to love somebody else. Pushing romance aside, being able to feel and trust yourself is important in all relationships, whether it’s personal or business.

Lovesick

The introduction to “Lovesick” is reminiscent of moments on Goddess, particularly, the heart wrenching ballad “Change.” This time around though, BANKS isn’t recounting the sad moments of a crumbling relationship, nor is it her offering to change herself just to salvage what was left of their love. “Lovesick” is a sweet ode to her love. It narrates the simplicity of an instant love affair; the kind that has a pure, undeniable connection from the start.

This is one of the happier, lighter tunes that BANKS has to offer on the album, which works as a nice contrast to her darker, more intense tracks of heartbreak. The song starts off as a slower piano ballad, but by the end of 3 minute and 20 second track, you’ll undoubtedly be bobbing your head and tapping your foot.

Mind Games

“Mind Games” explores the pain of toxic relationships. As humans, we need confirmation in love; we crave attention and adoration. “Mind Games,” the longest song on the record, brings us into a dark state of mind. It’s heartbreaking to love someone and to know that you can’t, or shouldn’t, be with them. At times, we’re blinded by fond memories, but “Mind Games” focuses on each twisted thing that happened within the relationship.

“I foresee it’s true That you would love me better If I could unscrew All of your moods that make me wanna runaway But I got stuck with faulty legs”

Her ex let let his bad moods get in the way of their own love. Although she knew the kind of man she was partnered with, she could not muster up the courage to leave him. Perhaps, she was afraid she wouldn’t find anyone again.

“You claiming I’m a handful when you show up All empty-handed The way you say you love me like You’ve just been reprimanded Cause I know you like mind games”

It sounds like a war of tug and pull. She had to squeeze the word “love” out of ex’s mouth, and he only ever said it like he was being condemned or forced, which may have been all part of his “game.”

“Do you See me now”

The last line of the song is powerful. She repeats “do you see me now,” and each time it’s uttered out of her mouth, it’s grown stronger. It’s as if she’s saying “look at me, I don’t need you.”

Trainwreck

The fifth track on the record follows behind “Mind Games” with a similar theme, but in a different voice. On “Trainwreck,” BANKS has let her frustration boil over, and she is not being shy about it. The pop, trip-hop track is an absolute banger. We find the songstress practically rapping her biting lyrics over solid electronic beats. BANKS has a unique style of rapping. She speaks each line in a sweeping breathe. She strings words together that just shouldn’t make sense, but of course, they do.

“Talking to ears that have been deaf for as long as I Can remember. A self-medicated handicap so i speak to Myself and i try so hard to get his stupid deaf ears to hear that I’ve become illiterate. I become dumb”

She’s dealing with the same man she’s been dealing with for a long time, and now, she’s over it. Rather than talk to someone who won’t hear her, she’s decided to talk herself out of the mess she’s in. She tried to save him, but realized it was useless when he wasn’t willing.

“And I saved you from your darker days Born to Take care of you Or I thought so Maybe it was just a phase”

Some of us are born as savers: people who so badly want to help those who can’t get up in the morning. BANKS is one of those savers. Some people can’t be helped; if you don’t want the help, then you won’t get it.

“You showed me all your letters that I Should’ve confiscated Both of my eyes were weighted I had to get away”

It’s dangerous to be in a trapped relationship. The walls close in, and there’s no light at the end of a tunnel. BANKS escaped the “trainwreck” that her fate was headed towards and is ready to move on.

Now when people ask me what BANKS is like, this will be the song I play.

This Is Not About Us

BANKS has a smooth way of saying “it’s not me.. It’s you.” In “This Is Not About Us,” she tries to let down a man in her life, who’s been attracted to the idea of a relationship for a long time. Maybe they were short term lovers that didn’t work out. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the memo.

Sonically, this is the most pop she gets on the record. It has a catchy chorus with a radio friendly instrumental.

Weaker Girl

Through the record thus far, we’ve already seen evolution of BANKS not only an artist, but also as a person. She is strong, confident, and candid. Although she didn’t exactly lack candid moments on Goddess, there was some power missing behind some tracks. “Weaker Girl” is a song would have been unfathomable on BANKS’ debut, but on the new record, it makes perfect sense. It echoes the cockiness that we heard previously on “Fuck With Myself” and the self-awareness of “Gemini Feed.”

The dark R&B track is sultry and tempting with the repetitive chorus “I’ma need a bad motherfucker like me.” No matter how sure she sounds in the track, there was a time when BANKS could never say that. And in such an explicit, this-is-what-I-want attitude. She recalls when she was a “weaker girl” and how her ex still wishes she was that girl. When she grew taller, she was seen as a threat. This song is an ode to her newfound badass-ness.

Mother Earth

The only song transition, which is seamlessly beautiful I might add, is between “Weaker Girl” and “Mother Earth.” It might seem like an odd pairing, but it’s a reminder that she is multi-layered, and that for each time she is rough, she is also warmly tender. BANKS’ entire album is certainly full of soul, but with kind words and gentle vocals, “Mother Earth” stands out as the most soulful tune.

BANKS bears all and takes the role of an older sister, a kind neighborhood, a best friend, or a mother figure. The artist has had her fair share of heartbreaks and pain, so she’s reaching out to anyone who might listen. She’s gotten in touch with her roots and femininity, and she’s offering to be that shoulder to lean on.

Judas

Judas: the notorious biblical figure most famous for his kiss of betrayal. His name is now synonymous with traitor. In “Judas,” BANKS bites back at the treason her ex committed. Traitors always seem to be the closest people to us until… they’re not.

Too dumb to deal Too numb to feel the knife in my back

As a younger woman, it’s hard to stand up for yourself. Real life, altering situations can be hard to deal with, and hard to realize.

Beggin me for thread, I think you need to change your brain

This line is kind of a reference to BANKS back in her Goddess days. The tables are turned, now she’s the one with the power and control. She’s grown far beyond the timid and guilty woman she was on her debut.

Haunt

I’ve always felt that BANKS had a witch-y side to her, and “Haunt” slightly confirms my suspicions. The track is spellbinding with tropical beats and experimental production. It sounds like running through a dark, cold forest with crickets and animals of the night.

BANKS holds a steady tempo in an even tone for the duration of the track, almost like she’s hexing her ex. Although her vocals stay in the same range for the majority of the song, there are moments where she channels the lower BANKS growl that I love so much. The tenth track on the album perfectly describes the way we feel “haunted” by people that have left our lives when we most needed them.

Poltergeist

“Poltergeist” and “Haunt” are back to back, making for a sultry pair of songs. “Poltergeist” follows in the same manner, being disturbed by the thought of someone, even when they’re gone. The eerie track’s production does a good job of making the singer sound like she’s, for lack of a better word, possessed in some bits. This song is at the top of my favorites list at the moment because of the crafty lyrics. Again, I can’t stress the importance of her production; each line brings you into BANKS’ dark, twisted little world.

To The Hilt

“To The Hilt” is the only pure piano ballad on the record. BANKS’ vocals pair so beautifully with the piano, I wouldn’t mind a record full of just ballads. Her voice is light and gentle, like she’s trying to get what she has to say out before her emotions take over. Most her songs deal with romantic relationships, but on “To The Hilt” she sings about the pain of a friend leaving her behind in the music industry.

“We backed each other to the hilt Now I live in the house we built”

They’ve built this music, their brand, and now that she’s right where she wants to be, she can’t share with the person who helped her get there. It’s an interesting internal conflict: to be happy with success but be haunted by the person who aided your way there.

“You saw me as a superstar when i was in a cave You helped them to see”

The person she sings of believed in her when no one else did. He made her feel like she was capable of things, maybe when didn’t feel so capable.

“Hated you for leaving me You were my muse for so long Now I’m drained creatively But I miss you on my team”

Artists and muses have beautiful relationships, but sadly, one cannot work without the other. Not only does she miss having someone to help support her creative outlet, she simply misses the friend who’s been with her since the beginning: before BANKS was BANKS.

27 Hours

BANKS ends on a high note, with her voice loud and powerful as ever. By the end of the record, we realize that she isn’t as fragile as she used to be. She’s bold, brave, and sometimes, a little bit mean. The passionate feelings of love or hate that have been prevalent in each and every song are what make humans, human. It’s what makes soulful music honest.

“27 Hours” is her owning up to hurting a man, after telling him to stay away. She does not shy away from the incident. No, instead she’s open and unafraid to bear all, even if it means revealing her mistakes. It ends the album on a memorable note; it’s the kind of song that echoes through your head at night.

The Altar is the artistic, and personal, evolution of BANKS as she navigates her way through life, pain, and love. She is only human, and as humans we learn from our mistakes with no shame. This is pure BANKS, on her Altar, unafraid and uncensored. You can embrace it or you can leave it.

#banks #the altar #album review #album #review #atwood magazine #magazine #pop music #pop #r and b #electronic #trip hop #hip hop #electronic pop #gemini feed #trainwreck

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lordmayokcorner · 1 year ago

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UPDATE aespa My World - Album Review

-- image: koreatimes --

After what feels like a lifetime, SM Entertainment’s aespa has finally dropped their new mini album My World. The group released a whopping 4 prereleases, always a red flag in my opinion. That said, I think that this EP has the potential to be a big hit among fans. This is a pretty noticeable departure from their original sound, but I see it as a good thing. Despite my bias being Ningning, we all have to admit that Blonde Karina is a massive slay.

I’ll listen to each song 3 times and rate them afterward. Each song will be rated on a scale of 1-10 with 5 being completely neutral, 1 being my least favorite song, and 10 being the best songs ever. Please take my rating with a grain of salt, my goal is to be honest, no hate :)

Welcome To MY World (feat. nævis) - 10

We start off with a somewhat ominous but sweet guitar riff. When the refrain hits, the bass is incredible and super smooth. Ningning is killing it on the refrain! (or chorus depending on how you see it). In the verses the autotune is quite excessive, but the chorus sounds more tasteful to me. As the song progresses, it continuously builds to hit harder and harder, adding drums, strings, more bass, synths, harmonies, backups, and the vocaloid-esque nævis lines. The descending strings into the final chorus are the highlight of the entire song. Every single word and musical element of the last chorus feels intentional and precise. The previous sense of suspense has been supplemented with passion and power. This song is amazing, I have nothing else to say.

Spicy - 9

The tense suspense and power of Welcome to MY World is replaced by a hard-hitting funky beat. The sound design of the synth bass is seriously impressive and pleasing to the ear. The production is done by Moonshine, an absolute beast in the kpop scene. Peek-A-Boo, Naughty, and Forever 1, just to name a few. The rap in the verse feels like a cross between the Irene rap in Dumb Dumb and Robyn’s Konichiwa B*tches. The chorus slaps. So. Hard. All the pitch sliding in the vocals and synths gives this song a jazzy, danceable feel. Some parts feel a bit boring and repetitive, but the track is addictive nevertheless. There are elements of Illusion, but other than that it’s a new sound for aespa.

Salty & Sweet - 7.5

This song continues the trend of excellent sound design in the bass. The vocal processing is also quite nice. The master is a little quiet compared to the other songs which is a bit disappointing, but if you turn up the volume it’s just fine. This one reminds me a bit of Savage, and both of them aren’t exactly revolutionary, though I do prefer this song. The production is super satisfying, perhaps even more than Spicy, but the songwriting could use some work. The only part that I find to be all around incredible is the breakdown/refrain with the heavy synth stabs. A classic hard-hitting aespa track that can be a little boring if you aren’t really focusing on the sounds and production.

Thirsty - 7

They’re going for a Red Velvet style R&B track here. They pull it off…mostly. I personally don’t think aespa suits this style, but it does sound pretty good overall. Once again, heavy autotune that at times is distracting. I don’t think aespa really needs as much autotune as SM gives them! The production is also not quite as exquisite as the previous 3 tracks. I’m a sucker for this style though, being as much of a Reveluv as I am. Very pretty and dreamy.

I’m Unhappy - 8.5

Another R&B feel to this song. Aespa is really bringing the groove in this EP, I must say. The verse has a nice fun light beat, the pre-chorus is smooth R&B, and the chorus is a combination of Spicy and Welcome to MY World in sound. I love the vocals, particularly in the chorus, my God! Other parts don’t really stand out to me as much however. The rap parts aren’t that impressive, but that’s not necessarily the goal. The slight vocal fry and growl in the “I’m unhappy” just adds to the aggressively cool sound of the song. I think that Giselle and Karina in particular absolutely nail it here. Relaxed and powerful, love it. Thumbs up aespa 👍

‘Til We Meet Again - 4

The song begins with some beautiful bells, strings, and soft vocals. The acoustic guitar that enters afterward isn’t exactly for me though. The chorus cements this song as a power ballad, but it’s not really a good one. There’s nothing very wrong with this song, I just don’t really see anything that notable in it. It’s a fine song, it just happens to be extremely similar to almost every end song ballad in kpop, and feels a bit cheesy. I feel like there would be better ways to end this album, but this isn’t necessarily a bad way to do it.

Final Thoughts

This must be the 10th time I’ve mentioned groove in this review, but this comeback really embodies the word. I certainly think this is a good direction for aespa. I like their older concepts too, but I think progressing as a group is very important. In my eyes, if they keep reinventing and developing their sound, they possibly have the ability to overtake groups with more defined, static sounds such as Blackpink, who they are often accused of imitating. That however is a whole other debate. I found this album to be generally impressive, particularly on the production side. SM undeniably has the best producers of the big 3, at least from my opinion as an amateur producer and sound designer. I give this album an overall score of 8, with my favorite song being the opener, Welcome to MY World. Thank you for reading, let me know what your thoughts are on any of this!

- Maya

#aespa #album review #aespa girls #music review #kpop #kpop gg #kpop girls #giselle #karina #ningning

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siribear · 4 years ago

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morning breaks bleak and cold across diamond city. alice keeps the flannel shirt - she figures it won’t be missed - and pulls the leather jacket on over it. the spare jeans she stuffs in her bag. few are awake in the morning; the market populated only by merchants readying the shelves for the day or early risers getting in their daily dose of power noodles.

alice heads out to find valentine’s. she turns right, continues further into the alley instead of heading back toward the market. and - there, it isn’t difficult to spot in the morning sun. valentine’s is an indented doorway, set apart by a neon sign, valentine’s detective agency glowing bright. she heads inside.

the agency is a small office, walls lined with filing cabinets. in front of her, a desk and chair; the desk itself decorated with photos and drawings and notes of thanks. in the center of the room stands a woman slowly removing papers from the filing cabinets and piling them on another desk in the back. she doesn’t acknowledge alice’s arrival. even when she steps fully into the building and knocks twice on the wall, the woman only mutters something to herself.

‘is everything okay?’ alice asks, stepping around the desk.

the woman barely lifts her head, but nods slowly. ‘yes, sorry. the - the office is closed.’

‘oh. i can come back later?’ the woman shakes her head and turns back toward the files. ‘wait, please. are you valentine? i need.. help finding a missing person.’

‘no, i’m his assistant, ellie. nick is.. i’m sorry,’ she repeats.

‘please.’ alice puts a hand on her shoulder, ducking her head to meet ellie’s eyes. ‘it’s important.’

‘you’re - right. it’s just that nick is missing. he hasn’t returned in a week.’

‘okay,’ alice says, arms crossed. ‘do you know where he’s gone?’

ellie’s eyes widen, hopeful. ‘yes, there’s a gang that hangs out in park street station. nick was investigating a missing daughter that disappeared with the gang leader, skinny malone.’

park street. that was - she pulls up the map on her pipboy, scrolls over to - there. near the boston common. ‘i guess i’ll be back, then.’

‘wait, you’re going after him?’

‘of course. maybe he’ll waive the fee for my case if i save him, hm?’ she says with a wink.

‘sorry, ma’am. we don’t have the people to go after him.’ sam tightens the buckles on his catcher’s padding-turned-armor. he tucks his gun in its holster and picks up a baseball bat.

‘a citizen of diamond city goes missing, you know where he is, and you just... aren’t going to do anything about it?’

‘sorry,’ he repeats, and gestures for her to leave the security office ahead of him.

‘told you the diamond city security is useless.’

alice and piper sit on the lone couch in piper’s home, alice with her head in her hands and piper with her legs tucked up under her. on the coffee table next to them are their own bowls of noodles.

‘you told me to come talk to you,’ alice says, lifting her head. ‘did you know about this?’

piper leans back against the arm of the couch. ‘i’m just a reporter, blue. skinny malone, huh? he’s in charge of the triggermen.’ at alice’s blank stare, she clarifies, ‘they’re a bunch of gangsters with submachine guns. and you want to go after them?’

‘what choice do i have?’

piper makes a thoughtful noise. ‘i have a deal for you. i wanted to bring you in for an interview, anyway - an outside look at the commonwealth, the city would love it. so, do this for me and i’ll go with you after valentine.’

‘you’re... serious?’ alice looks to piper’s sister sitting behind her, perched on an end table with a notebook and pencil in her hand.

‘of course i am, blue,’ she says. she tips her cap with her thumb and index finger.

‘uh, blue?’

piper points to the pipboy. ‘yeah, blue. you aren’t wearing the vault suit now, but the pipboy and that fish out of water look? dead giveaways.’

alice frowns. ‘i’m not - from a vault. the one i picked this up from was long dead. skeletal. surprised it still worked. i came from a small town, outside the commonwealth.’

‘oh. well there goes that line of questioning.’ nat jots down a few notes when piper leans back to look at her. ‘still. since it’s your first time in diamond city, what do you think? how does it compare to your town?’

what does she think of diamond city? it’s foreign. utterly different from what she remembers the area looking like. two realities layered on top of each other and nothing fits. but it’s - ‘it’s... different. where i came from, everything was open to the area around it. no walls, no security. so it’s kind of genius, really.’

‘is that all?’

‘i’ve seen the buildings in the area, crumbling and ruined. but this place, it’s the opposite. it’s flourishing despite the dangers around it. it gives me hope that maybe - maybe things aren’t as bad as they seem.’

in the background, nat scribbles furiously at her notebook. piper smiles, almost proud. ‘that’s actually kind of inspiring. living here every day, you don’t get that kind of.. perspective.’ alice shrugs. ‘next question: why are you going after valentine? what did you come to diamond city for?’

at that, alice freezes. maybe it was a mistake, doing the interview. admitting it - still makes it too real. ‘i’m - i’m looking for someone.’

‘who?’

alice blinks once, then lets the question settle. ‘a family member,’ she says evasively. ‘they... went missing, a few weeks ago.’

‘there,’ piper says with a muted clap of her hands. thankfully, she doesn’t pry. ‘if they went missing, do you think the institute is behind it?’

‘the institute?’ she remembers danse mentioning them - the synths, the technology, the apparent perversion of technology. ‘i honestly don’t know.’

‘yeah, no one does. damn, though. doesn’t look too good if their reach extends even beyond the commonwealth. okay, last thing. but i want to try something a little different.’ this time, piper stands. alice instinctively mimics her. ‘what would you say to someone who’s had a loved one go missing, but is too scared to look for them?’

‘don’t give up,’ it comes easily. ‘no matter what, you can’t give up hope that you’ll see them again.’

piper grins. ‘we’re definitely quoting that. nat, you get everything?’ nat, to her credit, never stops writing even as she flashes her sister a quick thumbs up. ‘great! we made a deal, then, didn’t we?’ she holds out a hand. ‘piper wright.’

alice takes it and finds herself smiling. ‘alice.’

from diamond city they head east, piper following a short distance behind alice. the inner city looks more like a war zone, with spiked barricades and toppled buildings making the streets near impossible to traverse. more than once, piper has to redirect alice’s path. the streets she once knew simply no longer exist.

‘blue, you’re leading us right to the commons,’ she says. there’s an edge to her voice. ‘no one comes back from there.

alice makes a show of checking per pipboy. ‘it’s the quickest way to park street station.’ piper only groans. ‘come on. it’s probably just a bunch of ghost stories.’

it isn’t just a bunch of ghost stories. the closer they get to boston common, the more warning signs they see. sometimes, literal warning signs. piper points out the third building tagged with graffiti: stay away. at the sound of a low growl, alice ducks into a crouch, piper following suit.

‘ghost stories,’ piper whispers harshly.

alice edges around an abandoned army vehicle. she peeks her head out and sees - nothing. not a single person. she turns to piper, brings a single finger to her lips, and gestures for her to follow. they slowly creep around the fenced park, and through the bars she can see the old pond and a single swan boat.

it moves.

they stop. the boat moves again with another growl and a series of bubbles on the other side of the pond. and again. and - alice exhales quietly, indicating for piper to move. the station is on the other side of the park, just beyond the pond. they quietly make their way toward it, and whatever lurks beneath the pond snores on.

they break into a run at the stairs leading down into the station, taking them two at a time. at the door, they take the moment to breathe.

‘what do you think - ?’

‘no.’ alice shakes her head. ‘no, absolutely not. i’m not going to think about it.’ she doesn’t want to think about what could be under that water. what could be so terrible that the entire area is a ghost town.

‘they call it swan’s pond,’ piper continues. 'jesus. i think swan is - ’

‘piper.’

‘okay. sorry. uh, my legs feel kinda numb. is that normal?’

alice takes a seat next to her when piper all but collapses to the ground. ‘yeah. kind of normal. do you do this often?’

‘what, hang around giant monsters? no. i deal with enough just publishing the paper. don’t... usually go chasing down danger.’

what a pair they make. ‘we’ll be alright.’ alice stands, draws her pistol. ‘you good?’

‘think so.’ piper stands with alice’s help. ‘yeah. i’m ready to go, blue.’

‘you’re not letting that nickname go, are you?’

‘fine, alice.’ she wraps her hand around the door handle. ‘let’s get this party started.’

the party consists of a handful of triggermen sitting in the dust covered reception of the subway. they sit on crates emblazoned with vault-tec logos, talking amongst themselves. alice catches handfuls of conversation. something about joining the gang, more caps than they could have imagined, skinny malone’s girl and her short temper.

and nick valentine, held deeper in the vault. vault.

alice signals to piper and slowly brings herself to look over the stack of crates they’ve hidden behind. one of the triggermen spots her and manages to point before getting shot in the face. she crouches back down.

‘got their attention?’

rapid fire gunshots ping off the crates. ‘maybe.’

piper shoots one that tries to circle around them with a baseball bat. he falls to his knees, one covered in blood, before his head bursts open from another shot. alice shrugs it off, ignoring the bit of bone that falls out of her hair, and continues shooting at the others.

two more go down by her count and piper’s exclamations of yes! they’re almost through until three more triggermen run into the room.

‘any ideas?’ piper yells over the gunfire peppering their hiding spot.

alice digs in her pack while piper covers them. ‘just the one,’ she says, pulling out a grenade. she pushes piper down by the shoulder as she pulls the pin and lobs the grenade across the room.

the world explodes. lights flicker overhead. her ears won’t stop ringing, but it’s the only sound she hears. which means - alice shakily draws herself upward, one hand on the edge of a crate. reception is a mess of scattered plaster, blood, and gore.

‘wow,’ piper says, surveying the damage. ‘nice, i guess. good timing, too. i’m out of ammo.’ alice ducks back down to rifle through her things, producing three more packs of ammo. ‘hey, thanks. what about you?’

she unslings Righteous Authority, smiling faintly. ‘i’ve got a spare.’

#oc: alice ward #siri drabbles #series: we will all go together when we go #the interview section is a little rough but hey so is this whole thing #i still kinda plan to go through this again and post it on ao3 #but that version is gonna be super different #and i have to get through this version first... yikes tm

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falloutdelmarvaau · 4 years ago

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Fallout: Delmarva (Chapter 2)

Mission: Into the Unknown

My first steps into the wasteland are slow and tentative, but I eventually manage to coax myself outside. As my eyes adjust to the light, the first thing I notice is a single dead tree right next to the Vault entrance, no doubt killed during the Great War. My vision becomes clearer and clearer, and I notice that the entire area seems to be devoid of any life whatsoever. There are no living plants, no animals, no nothing. The whole area is nothing but a dry, brown, barren wasteland as far as the eye can see. Which way am I supposed to go? It’s all so overwhelming!

I get another alert on my Pip-Boy. This time, it’s coming from the Map section. I take a look and discover that a new map has already started to generate. Vault 26 is clearly marked right next to the little triangle that represents my current location. As I zoom out to get a more complete view of the area, I notice another location labeled Beach City. According to the map’s legend, it’s about twelve miles from here. I wonder if it’s a pre-war town or a post-war settlement. Nevertheless, it’s as good a place as any to start to. Maybe I’ll run into these rumored strong people. The directional compass says that Beach City is due east of here, so I start heading that way.

As I trek through the wasteland, I notice a complete and utter lack of anything. I grew up hearing scary stories of ghouls, synths, and super-mutants that dragged humans away and killed them. However, I have yet to spot so much as a radroach out here. There aren’t even anydistinctive features to the landscape apart from the occasional rock that’s slightly larger than all the other rocks.

It doesn’t take long before I start getting bored. I idly scroll to the Music section of my Pip-Boy. I’m about to play one of my favorite songs from the 1950s, but then I notice something else. A new feature has appeared alongside all of my songs: an option to tune in to a local radio tower. Curious, I scroll over to it and select it. This pulls up a new page that lists radio options. The only option is Radio New Delmarva, so I select that.

After taking a second to clear out some static, my Pip-Boy delivers the sound of a man’s voice to me. “What up, my irradiated dudes? This is your undead homie DJ Sour Cream coming to you live from an undisclosed location,” the voice says. I pause, trying to process that. Undead? What did thatmean? After a second, I decide that it’s probably just a DJ gimmick. From what I’ve heard, radio DJs are a weird bunch.

“Not much in the way of news today,” DJ Sour Cream continues. “However, I should point out that today is the first day of deathclaw mating season. Remember: if you don’t bother them, they won’t bother you. Now, without further ado, let’s get back to the music. And remember: when you want a fresh new sound, turn to Radio New Delmarva.”

Then a song starts to play. The DJ was right; it does sound fresh and new. I’ve never heard anything like it before: was it written in the 1950s? Before? After? I don’t know, and I’m not really sure I care. All I know is that I like it.

Looking for your place

In the Universe

Don’t you know the Universe

Is looking too?

Looking for its place

In you

And now it’s coming through

Your dream is coming true

Welcome to the party

Mr. Universe

We’re so glad we are

A part of you

Meet the rocks and flowers

The seconds and the hours

The splinters, winters

Apples, chapels

Teardrops, temples

Cats and castles

Anything that you can be

The things you see and cannot see

Are Mr. Universe

Mr. Universe

I can’t help but bob my head to the beat as I walk. This has to be the most unusual song I’ve ever heard. After a lifetime of hearing nothing but jazzy beats, this slow-paced melody is suddenly pulling me in in a way that nothing ever has before. It kind of makes me feel like maybe I was just being paranoid before. Maybe the outside world isn’t that big of a disaster. Maybe I’ll be just fi-

ROOOOAAAAAAR!

The noise comes from behind and startles me just as the song is wrapping up. I turn around to find myself staring face-to-face with… heaven only knows what! It’s a tall, reptilian beast that’s walking on its hind legs. Each of its six toes and eight fingers ends in a deadly-looking claw, but that’s only the tip of the iceberg. Its back and tail are covered in plates that could probably do some real damage if I ran into any of them. Its head is about the size of a Vault-Tec generator, with curly horns that look ready to ram. Worst of all, however, are its sharp-looking, meat-covered teeth. The horror of these eating implements is accentuated by its foul breath, suggesting that it has eaten recently. And, yet, judging by the look in its orange, cat-like eyes, it’s still hungry.

My heart leaps into my throat. What is this thing? Could it be one of those deathclaw things that the DJ had mentioned? Whatever it is, it doesn’t seem keen on letting me leave unscathed. Unfortunately, in my zeal to please the Overseer, it hadn’t occur to me to pack a weapon. That leaves me with only one option: running like hell.

My legs propel me away from the nightmare creature as fast as they can. I was never the fastest runner in my Vault, but I seem to be staying out of reach of this thing’s nasty claws, so that’s good. Still, this thought does very little to calm my racing nerves, which is probably for the best, given the circumstances. In fact, the dominant thought that runs through my mind as I attempt to escape is, “Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!”

It’s not long before my legs and lungs start to tire. The panicked, “Shit! Shit! Shit!”in my head grows louder. My endurance is absolute crap. I always had a feeling that could be my final undoing, but I never realize that it would be quite this horrifying! My legs are getting more sore by the minute. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna-

“Get down!”

In my panicked state, it doesn’t occur to me to wonder who just said that. I simply obey, diving to the ground and covering my neck with my hands like in those old nuclear war instruction videos. I’m about to close my eyes so that I won’t have to see my fate, but then a red streak above me catches my eye. I turn to look… and my jaw literally hits the ground. As it turns out, the source of the red streak was a person… at least, I think it’s a person.

I can’t see much of this person’s skin, but I can tell that her head and arms are completely red. Judging by the sound of her voice as she screams in primal fury, she is female. Her hair is black and kind of… square? How is that possible? More perplexing than this, however, is her outfit. She’s wearing what appears to be a World War II-style bomber jacket that’s open to reveal a white shirt that reads “Blame my wife” in blue letters. On her lower half, she’s wearing yoga pants that are tucked into combat boots. She’s fending off the horrific creature using two large gauntlets, one on each hand. A yellow visor completes the mysterious look.

The woman leaps high into the air and gives the creature a massive punch to the face. The creature lets out what sounds like a cross between a roar and a whimper as it stumbles backwards. When she lands on the ground in front of me, she takes a protective stance that reminds me of a mama bear defending her cubs. “If you want to live to raise your own offspring,” she threatens the creature, “then I suggest you turn back the way you came!”

To my surprise, the creature actually pauses as if it somehow understands what this woman has said and is contemplating it. Or maybe it just has its doubts about continuing to attack a being that can send it stumbling backwards with one punch. Either way, it lets out an indignant growl as it turns around and skulks away. I watch in amazement as its tall, lumbering form disappears over the horizon.

The threat eliminated, the woman turns to me and asks, “You okay, miss?” Then, as if this whole experience wasn’t surreal enough, her gauntlets vanish into thin air! I have to blink a few times and rub my eyes to confirm it, but those things are well and truly gone, revealing a pair of black gloves that only cover her middle fingers. She extends one of her hands to me. Bewildered as all hell, but still grateful, I take it.

“Um, yeah,” I say, allowing her to help me stand. “Thank you, uh...”

“Garnet,” the woman answers. My eyes widen. Her name is Garnet. This is one of the people I’m looking for! “And you are?”

It takes me a second to remember my own name, “Uh, Angelica. Angelica Miller.” I’m about to mention that I was looking for a Garnet, but then I notice something else. My hand, still in hers, brushes against something hard on her palm. Curious, I turn her hand over to take a look, only to come face-to-face with a gemstone! Again, I have to blink a few times to confirm that it’s there. Judging by how smoothly the skin on her palm bends around her gem, it’s an actual part of her body. But… that can only mean… Holy shit!

“You’re one of those gem aliens,�� I breath, starting to feel light-headed. “The old legends are true.”

“Correct,” Garnet replied pragmatically.

“This… this is insane! I-I’d always assumed your stories were just distractions from our brutal reality. And yet… I can’t believe I’m actually talking to you.”

Garnet smiles good-naturedly. “I take it this is your first time on the surface?” she asks.

I blush. “Is it that obvious?”

“Many Vault-dwellers who first come to the surface and meet us don’t believe what they’re seeing, either,” Garnet explains. “Plus, most humans who live on the surface don’t have as much trouble dealing with a deathclaw.”

So that was a deathclaw. “Yeah, I’m pretty new,” I confess. Then, figuring it was as good a way to get to know her as any, I ask, “Can you help me?”

“I certainly can,” Garnet answers. “First things first; we need to get you a weapon. I’m assuming that if you had one, you would have used it.”

My blush deepens as I answer, “Yeah.”

“Well, come with me,” she offers. “I have a friend in New Beach City who knows her way around a man-made firearm.”

I blanch. “New Beach City?”

Garnet frowns. “Your Pip-Boy just listed it as Beach City, didn’t it?”

“Um… yeah?”

Garnet sighs. “Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. None of the world’s GPS systems have been updated since the War. In any case we should get moving if you want to get a weapon before another deathclaw attacks you.”

“I’m right behind you,” I reply peppily. She smiles and starts walking towards New Beach City, and I follow close behind. This is great! I can hardly believe this is going so well! As we walk, I look at my Pip-Boy’s screen, switch the display to the Message section, and send a quick message to the Overseer. [I’ve met Garnet. Why didn’t you tell me she was a gem alien?]

It doesn’t take long before I get a reply: [I had heard that these individuals were aliens. I didn’t want to get you all excited in case it wasn’t true. You know how exaggerated those old legends are.]

[They don’t seem all that exaggerated now.] I tell him, remembering how Garnet punched a motherfucking deathclaw until it went away.

The Overseer’s next message reads [In any case, well done for finding the first of your new friends. Contact me again when you have met the other three. In the meantime, don’t tell them that you are receiving orders from me. I want our plans for an alliance to be a surprise.]

This seems reasonable enough to me. After all, I don’t want to overwhelm them within 10 seconds of meeting them. [Okay.] With that, I lower my arm. The music of Radio New Delmarva has still been playing this whole time, and Garnet and I continue our walk to the sounds of a pre-war band singing about dead-end jobs.

#Fallout: Delmarva AU #SU AU #Steven Universe AU #Fallout AU #Fallout #Steven Universe #Angelica Miller #Garnet #Deathclaw #Garnet punches a deathblow in the face #DJ Sour Cream #Sour Cream #Mr. Universe

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deadcactuswalking · 7 years ago

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REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 15th April 2018 -- Extended Super Deluxe Version 3 & Knuckles

Holy busy week on the charts-ioli! There are nine new arrivals this week – two of which sample the exact same Lauryn Hill song - so let’s just get on with it, shall we?

Top 10

Drake... Thank you. Thank you for being such a streaming Cookie Monster that your new track, “Nice for What”, debuted at the top. Please stay. I don’t want the dreck one space below it to even see another week in the top ten, let alone at the top of the charts.

What is that dreck, you ask? Well, unfortunately to you and fortunately to me, I shall refuse to repeat its name until it exits the top 40. Google it! I won’t waste any more space in my show to talk about this trash.

At number-three, we have our second new arrival in the top five, “One Kiss” by infuriatingly hit-and-miss producer Calvin Harris and the latest of many of his pop girls that he can just grab out of a bucket for a quick smash (hit, for all you people with minds in the gutter), Dua Lipa.

Sadly, that means that “These Days” by Rudimental featuring Jess Glynne, Dan Caplen and the return of the Macklemore, has dipped down two spaces to number-four.

“Paradise” by George Ezra also took a small one-position hit to number-five, but if you care about that song’s existence, you’re a terrible liar.

“Friends” by Marshmello and Anne-Marie won’t budge at number-six. Good for them, I suppose.

“This is Me” by Keala Settle and The Greatest Showman Ensemble streams down (no pun intended) four spaces to number-seven.

“Feel it Still” by Portugal. The Man, the most unlikely sleeper hit of this year – and that’s only because it was a hit LAST year in the US – has been taken down a notch or two... or three, to number-eight at its thirty-seventh week in the chart.

“Lullaby” by Sigala featuring Paloma Faith at number-nine won’t go away!

Although the saddest drop here is Post Malone’s “Psycho” featuring Ty Dolla $ign, dropping two spaces to number-ten. Am I the only one who wanted this to hit the top, especially after it got a video and noticeably an increase in radio play? No? Well, let’s just get on with the climbers.

Climbers

“Love Lies” by Khalid and Normani grows on both me and the charts, where it took a five-space jump to #18... but that’s it in terms of anything notable. I could talk about Bebe Rexha and B Young possibly getting a top ten hit as they creep up into the top 15, but they’re not really having immense leaps so I’ll decline.

Fallers

She says, “do you love me?” I tell her, “only partly. This forced meme couldn’t give my song boosts while it’s charting.”

Talking about forced memes, I apologise for possibly the cringiest passage I’ve written on this show thus far, but the content still rings true, as Drake’s “God’s Plan” just kind of cannonballs from its

number-one spot it had just two weeks ago, dropping five spaces to #16. The Weeknd sees some falls too, as “Call Out My Name” drops ten spaces to #17, and “Wasted Times” takes a 12-space drop to #30. The biggest story here, however, is Mabel’s “Fine Line” featuring Not3s, just nosediving 20 spots to #35. Damn, these new arrivals really shook the charts, huh? Talking about losing songs too soon...

Dropouts and Returning Entries

We have a whole lot to mourn here, with some damn good songs like “Havana” by Camila Cabello featuring Young Thug, “Tip Toe” by Jason Derulo featuring French Montana, “Blinded by Your Grace, Pt. 2” by Stormzy featuring MNEK as well as “Mine” by Bazzi (which still might rebound next week due to the album) all dropping out from #34, #40, #39 and #27 respectively. We also have the not-as-sad losses of “Never be the Same” by Camila Cabello from #20, “New Rules” by Dua Lipa from #37, “Let Me Go” by Hailee Steinfeld and Alesso featuring Florida Georgia Line and Watt from #38, and “Strangers” by Sigrid from #35. We also have some absolute collapses for “Try Me” by The Weeknd from #17 and “Check” by Kojo Funds and RAYE from #32, both of which are not even in the top 75 anymore. Rest in peace to all of you, but good riddance to some.

“Pray for Me” by The Weeknd and Kendrick Lamar also returned to #32. I don’t know why but I really don’t care – this song doesn’t really deserve the attention.

NEW ARRIVALS

#40 – “I Like It” – Cardi B featuring Bad Bunny and J Balvin

People who follow me on Twitter know that I listened to Cardi B’s album, Invasion of Privacy, and wasn’t too big of a fan. This track, however, was definitely one of my favourites out of the bunch. Some part of me just absolutely loves that delicious Pete Rodriguez sample, providing Cardi with a Latin-infused trap beat that matches her bombast and simple yet effective flow. Those horns are just beautiful, and I love how the vocal samples play into Cardi’s hook and her “woo!” ad-libs that are just injected with fun. Bad Bunny’s deeper growl is entirely different from his sadboi moaning on his last single, “Amorfoda”, but damn, if it doesn’t still impress, with a melodic flow and Daddy Yankee inflections. Oh, yeah, J Balvin is here with some Lady Gaga references, but his autotuned bounce is completely drowned out by this crazy instrumental. Cardi, don’t do anything else. I like it like this.

#39 – “Mad Love” – Sean Paul featuring Becky G and David Guetta

Why does David Guetta get a featuring credit? Sure, he produced the track but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t give you free range to a feature, especially when producers usually (should) get credited for their work anyway. Well, is the song any good? No. I can tell you that. The watery synths that introduce the track are just kind of... pathetic? As are Becky’s attempts at Jamaican inflections, and Sean Paul’s as-always infuriatingly mediocre bars, coupled with his hilariously careless “singing” on the pre-chorus. Don’t give me “Fake Love” flashbacks. All that, however, can’t really distract me from the fact that maybe Guetta deserves his featuring credit, as his dancehall-influenced beat has some buzzing synths and clattering drums on the chorus that just make everything so much more exciting and... “mad”. Despite by enjoyment of Guetta’s instrumental, I can’t dig Becky or Paul here, so I think I’ll give it a skip if you can’t look past the vocals.

#38 – “Dancing” – Kylie Minogue

Man, it’s hard to believe that Kylie Minogue of all people has a song that takes ages to get to the top 40 after bubbling under for weeks on end, but yeah, I can understand why, because this track has an identity crisis. Is it country? Is it just some of what Minogue does best, bubblegum dance-pop? Who knows? Who cares? Well, Minogue does, obviously, as she tries to pull off a country twang and a melody that I don’t think she can really handle anymore on the chorus. The instrumental is the least notable thing here, especially with that weak drop – well, that is, if you ignore the pop-by-the-numbers writing. That one line as the hook – “when I go out, I want to go out dancing”. Yeah, maybe, you should stay home tonight, Minogue, as if you’ve lost your touch on making damn good pop jams, you’re probably not too great on the floor, either. Sorry.

#37 – “I See You Shining” – Nines

I feel like Patrick Star when I see these nobodies creep into the top 40 on this show sometimes. Who are you people? This one bothers me especially, mostly because of how terrible the name of this act is. Nines? What, are there bands called Sevens and Eights that just couldn’t blow up? Are you going all Timberlake on us and being dressed up the nines? Actually, looking at this dude, I don’t exactly think he is – no shade and he doesn’t look bad, particularly, but the dude’s not wearing a suit and tie or anything. Apparently, he also goes by Nina with the Nina. I see... Well, since I’m supposed to be talking about the song here, I suppose I should mention how it sucks. It’s just some more generic braggadocios faux-reggae faux-grime nonsense with a nice vocal sample, if anything. Nines has very little of a presence. It reminds me of the trap-rap you poor Yankees get oversaturated with, but with a bit more energy and more cluttered instrumentals. I’m just getting sick of this new brand of bore-hop, with the stale reggaeton drum patterns and the uninterested MCs.

#27 – “Be Careful” – Cardi B

Yo, Cardi, why’d you have to be so brutal on Offset? What did he do except be somewhat homophobic, possibly a cheating jerk and a terrible liar...? Yeah, maybe, I get why she had to go in on this dude, and I can buy her aggression with the Wii Shopping Channel synths and the occasional reverb-soaked shrieks of some person saying “yeah”, which I assume is a twisted sample of the classic “yeah! Woo!” break, but I’m not entirely sure. Cardi’s singing doesn’t totally impress, but it does its job at making elevator music somehow threatening (despite her insisting that it’s NOT a threat) and pretty awesome, which it really shouldn’t be. Sure, it does feel monotonous, but it’s a pretty nice love-on-the-rocks track, with a catchy hook to boot. However, it’s not the best song to sample Lauryn Hill’s “X-Factor” that debuted this week.

Fun fact: Lauryn Hill’s song also samples a Wu-Tang Clan song which samples a Barbra Streisand song, so I imagine Marvin Hamlisch and his team, writers of “The Way We Were”, is getting royalties upon royalties for the decades of use his song had. That also means that “Be Careful” has like seventeen credited writers, but that’s besides the point. The song’s decent.

#25 – “Answerphone” – Banx & Ranx and Ella Eyre featuring Yxng Bane

I’ve heard of these artists before several times in passing, mostly because Ella Eyre is one of UK’s favourite feature-pop girls, Yxng Bane has charted last week and Banx & Ranx did a few Gorillaz remixes last year. I didn’t really know how they’d mesh, but I did know what to expect – a boring dancehall track with some autotuned rapping from Bane and serviceable vocals from Ella Eyre.

Yep, I was right. Eyre has a slightly smoky voice here, which can sound croaky and unfitting against the bouncy dancehall production and looping melodies on the keys, along with an ugly synth tone and a stale but notably somewhat garage-influenced drum pattern that speeds the song up enough for it to not become boring. Yxng Bane has like 20 seconds of the song, and I’m glad, because he’s not very interesting here at all, and I wouldn’t want this song to be longer than the three minutes and eleven seconds that it is, otherwise it’d be pretty gratingly snooze-worthy. If you have insomnia, I recommend this instead of ASMR or whatever you find on the Internet, because this will definitely send you to sleep.

Well, now we have our three big ‘uns, starting with...

#14 – “Dreams” – Ruti

Who? What? Where? When? How? Let me repeat that first one, who? That’s the problem with these reality shows – they have much more of an effect on the UK charts and honestly, I couldn’t care less for who wins; I just watch the auditions. Ruti here is the winner of The Voice UK this year, and on her debut single, she covers a Cranberries song that I hadn’t heard prior, “Dreams”. Hence, after listening to this decent enough albeit bland piano-lead rendition with a shaky vocal performance from Ruti, I listened to the original version and realised that I really could have gone without knowing Syco put their turn-songs-to-snoozefests hands on it.

#3 – “One Kiss” – Calvin Harris and Dua Lipa

Calvin and Hobbes bring us some by-the-numbers slightly tropically-tinged EDM-infused electropop, with a decent synth melody and some interesting vocal samples, as well as experimentation on the drop that is just kind of all over the place and balls to the wall, with its deep samples of Dua singing “one”, brief blips of a horn riff, a reversed percussion pattern and a whole lot of pointless synth noise.

That’s really all I can say about this. For the first time from Dua Lipa and the seventy-eighth time from Calvin Harris, all I can say is that it exists and I’m entirely indifferent on it. Sorry.

#1 – “Nice For What” – Drake

So, this is the biggest debut, because of course, it’s Drake, and, yeah, guys, as much as I hate this dude’s lack of charisma and overall just boring flow, writing and even beat choice, he’s won me over on this one. Big Freedia starts the track with a few drum fills and distorted shouting, before the pitched-up Lauryn Hill sample (I told you it’d come back) enters like a Kanye track from 2004, and the percussion hits heavy as with nearly all of Drake’s singles. Then Drake starts spitting with delivery I’ve never heard from him before – a Kanye-like melodic hook as well as a repetitive but effective flow in the verses as he talks about this girl that “hits them motherf***ing angles”. Big Freedia then comes back to break it down into the chopped sample hook as Drake chops his own verse up, creating a weirdly jerky experience. If she hits them angles, you’re hitting the gym because this is the strongest single I’ve heard from Drake in years. Congratulations, my man, you deserve this number-one! It’s probably the best I’ve heard for a long time.

Conclusion

Damn, Drake really takes the cake with “Nice for What” running with Best of the Week, with tied Honourable Mentions for both of Cardi B’s debuts. Worst of the Week... I can’t really say anything here is outright bad, but I suppose Kylie Minogue takes it with “Dancing” while Dishonourable Mention goes to “Dreams” by Ruti for taking all of the excitement out of an excellent song. See ya next week!

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years ago

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The Mettle Of A Man; Part Fourteen

Fandom: Fallout (4)

Pairing: Eventual Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Enjoy!

Part One: ArcJet

Part Two: The Prydwen

Part Three: Orders

Part Four: Finding Brandis

Part Five: Weston Water And Oberland

Part Six: Meeting Preston And Matthew

Part Seven: Radstag And Radstorm

Part Eight: The Return To Sanctuary Hills

Part Nine: Domestic Ruminations

Part Ten: Institutionalized

Part Eleven: Two Weeks, Three Days

Part Twelve: Haylen’s Warning And The Glowing Sea

Part Thirteen: Under Fire

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of abuse. Stay safe!]

"This would be so much easier if you would just comply , Vega." Maxson sneered.

"How the fuck else am I supposed to comply? Danse never told me he was a synth, Maxson!" Backhand protested, glaring up at the young man as best as she could with his boot pinning her head to the floor.

Across from her in the brig Brandis floundered against his shackles, the older paladin clearly furious but unable to articulate around his gag.

Maxson ignored him, leaning down and applying more pressure to the side of Vega's head. "My patience is growing thin , Vega. I refuse to believe that he did not confide in you. You're the only person who's been in and out of the Institute, no doubt keeping that traitor apprised of orders from the masterminds of his true agenda."

"After everything that Danse has been through, I can't even believe that you would think he's a threat to the Brotherhood! Whether he's a synth or not!" Backhand retorted hotly. "So what if he is one? Synths can be rescued , wiped, reprogrammed with new identities. They aren't all infiltrating units, some of them are-"

Maxson hauled her to her feet, shoving her back against the wall. The rivets of the brig ground through her Vault suit, making Vega grunt in pain. "You certainly have a lot to say in the defense of synths, Vega." He hissed, taking a fistful of her hair and forcing her to look at him.

At the tearing sensation on her scalp, two hundred-plus years abruptly melted away for Backhand. She was suddenly in the pristine kitchen of their first apartment and Nate , shouting as loudly as any drill sergeant, throwing his briefcase in frustration, grabbing her neck and dragging her--

No . She had fought back then and she could fight back now. Backhand jerked her head to the side, not caring whether she lost a handful or two of her hair. "Get your fucking hands off of me!" She snapped, and Maxson's gloved fingers slammed shut around her throat.

"You would disobey the elder of the Brotherhood?" Maxson asked, a sinister smile twisting his mouth as Vega choked for breath. "I think your insubordination deserves repayment in kind."

...

When Danse awoke, he was incredibly disoriented. His hands clenched tight into the blanket that covered him as he stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, feeling his breathing stutter as he tried to remember what the hell had happened.

Haylen . The message the scribe had given him. Confusion. Terror. Panic . Crushing it all down, I am a paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel I have sworn an oath protect sisters brothers skills weapons body --

Finding the munitions. Elizabeth Knight Vega damn it departing to report back to Maxson, the paladin knowing almost definitively that she had no idea about what he was, about the hideous truth of his existence. Her giving him her lucky bandanna, wrapping it around his neck like a scarf, touch light and tender.

Fleeing the Sentinel site, abandoning his armor, the deathclaw, the walk of shame that culminated in...God, was he really a synth?

M7-97 .

A synth . With a sinking feeling in his gut, Danse cast his mind back over his first memories yet again, growing up alone in the Capital Wasteland …

If he wasn't a synth, surely he would have something more concrete than a hazy record of empty locations? Something tangible, maybe an encounter with a friendly trader or a scuffle with some other children, something . But nothing seemed solid until he got to the memories of opening his junk stand in Rivet City. Eerily similar to what Sturges had mentioned. At that point he had been an adult for several years, or at least he believed he was--

God, his head was pounding . He was so confused. Danse pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying in vain to rub the tension away.

"Oh, you're awake! Good."

Danse jerked his hands down, shoving himself half-upright on his elbows. His confusion only intensified when he realized that it was Mrs. O'Brian who was currently hovering in the partially-intact doorway, the woman pointedly keeping her distance.

"Wasn't sure how fighty you'd be when you woke up." She said by way of explanation, "you looked like you'd been through hell."

"Where am I?" Danse rasped.

"At the O'Brian homestead, just a little ways south of that Oberland settlement. How do you feel?" She queried.

"I…" Danse paused, taking a mental inventory. His legs felt like they belonged to someone else. His face and shoulders were, admittedly, worse. Bandages pulled at his shoulders, the fabric wrapped over and under his arms. "I'm in pain, but the levels are manageable." He muttered, struggling to swing his legs over the side of the bed. "I have to-"

"Whoa whoa, hold it! I did a lot of work getting you all fixed up, you're absolutely not movin'!" Mrs. O'Brian scolded him, waving her hands in front of her like Danse was a rampaging brahmin. "You are going to sit and heal, so help me God, if I have to strap you down to do it!"

"Citizen, you don't understand . Having me here puts you in danger." Danse's brain finally caught up with the rest of him as he remembered, "you have children , a family, innocents--I shouldn't be here." He said in a panic, trying to stand again.

M7-97 .

Mrs. O'Brian scoffed, stomping over to the bed and giving Danse a careful shove in the middle of his chest. He was immediately knocked prone, his back hitting the mattress hard enough to make him grunt. "Don't give me that shit, Mr. Paladin. You're all kinds of banged up and you're not goin' anywhere ." She instructed him firmly. "Trouble might have been followin' you before, but you've already been out for two days and we haven't received any visitors."

Danse blinked dully up at her. Two days . His stomach growled abruptly, hunger pangs digging in on top of everything else.

"Now, you just sit tight and I'll get you some noodle soup, alright?" She patted his arm calmly, a fair contrast between her previous attitude. "If trouble comes, then trouble comes. Until then, we'll focus on getting you back to your old self."

He was almost too weak to move, aside from adrenaline-fueled bursts. Danse felt anxious, skittish, frantic . What the hell was he going to do?

He had to leave. But where could he go? He could return to the Capital Wasteland. Or maybe he should head north instead, run to the untouched expanses of Maine or the mountains of Vermont.

He had to leave. He couldn't stay here.

M7-97 .

He should be dead.

"Mrs. O'Brian," He began carefully when she returned with the soup. "You don't grasp the danger of this situation. I'm a s…" His voice hitched. "A...a synth ." Danse finally forced the word out, speaking it aloud and solidifying it as reality. His empty stomach pitched violently.

"That's nice. You can just call me Katie." The woman replied absently, patting his hand. "Should we get in touch with the Railroad?"

" What? " Danse asked incredulously. " How can you be so nonchalant about this? I should be dead , I'm a monstrosity -"

"Mr. Paladin, what you are right now is a hungry and scared man. So hush up and eat your soup." Katie interrupted Danse gearing himself into an elaborate diatribe. "If you were supposed to be dead, you would be." Her eyes were almost as green as Brandis', and she narrowed them at him. "I don't doubt that if you could have done the job yourself, you would have. And since you haven't ," she continued pointedly, "I'm going to assume you won't."

Danse mulled over her words as he slowly consumed the soup, more water than broth and noodles. She was right, he realized. He was too afraid to end himself, and too cowardly to wait to be destroyed.

M7-97 .

What the hell was he going to do?

…

He tried to slip away the following night, but his attempt was foiled by Mr. O'Brian's watchful eye. That and the fact that he was barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Hell, just tying his boots up had almost made him pass out. He knew deep down that it was idiotic to attempt to leave while he was in such a sorry state, but he kept imagining the sound of vertibirds drawing near and the fear that the O'Brians could be in danger because of him kept him from getting any meaningful rest.

The older man startled Danse out of his skin when he cleared his throat from his shadowed spot beside the door. "I had a feelin' you might try somethin' dumb like this." He remarked, shaking his head while Danse cast wildly around for a way to explain his current ambulation. "Have a seat, big fella'."

"I can't stay, Mr. O'Brian. If the Brotherhood-" the paladin began desperately.

"Call me Tom, Danse. I'm of the impression that we're in this together now. If trouble finds you, then it finds you." Mr. O'Brian interrupted him, inadvertently echoing his wife's sentiments. "Personally, if it was me in a jam, I'd much rather I was surrounded by people that care about me when trouble comes callin'."

"I'm trying to leave so that you don't need to get involved-"

"No, you're tryin' to leave because you're hellbent on runnin' from this problem." Tom's expression was sharp in the warm glow from the lantern. Danse had no idea whether Mrs. O'Brian had told her husband that their unanticipated guest was a synthetic freak . "You wanna' get the hell out of here, maybe go back to the Capital Wasteland and pretend like nothin' happened. But the weight of the truth is heavier than any sin, Mr. Danse. You'll figure that out. I hope for your sake it's sooner rather than later."

"Mr. O'Brian, I...I don't know what to do ." Danse admitted softly, sinking down into the rickety chair beside the other man in defeat and putting his head in his hands. Everything ached.

"I can tell, son. You're all tangled up like Katie's balls of yarn. I don't have the answers for you. All I know is that runnin' away only prolongs the trouble." Mr. O'Brian rose slowly, muttering about his old knees. He clapped a hand on Danse's shoulder in passing. "The O'Brian family doesn't give a flying fuck one way or another about whether you're a synth, got it? And if anyone else in the Commonwealth has any sense left in 'em, they'd be wise to follow suit."

Tom left him to think beside the door, and Danse was there until sunup the following morning.

...

The O'Brians homestead consisted of an acre or so of land and an old, half-collapsed commercial brick building just outside of Forest Grove Marsh. Danse had apparently crash landed on their proverbial doorstep that fateful morning, though he didn't remember much after he had passed out.

Tom and Katie had eight children, four sons and four daughters of varying ages. They ranged from the eldest, a boy named Eamon who was nineteen, to the youngest, a tiny girl named Siusan who was almost a year old. Between them was Thomas Junior (known strictly as Teej), then came the triplets of Connor, Matthew and Bridget, and the twins Kathleen and Fionnula.

Danse had never had such a difficult time remembering names, consistently stumbling over Fionnula while the three-year old patiently coached him.

It didn't help that Connor and Matthew looked exactly alike, as did Kathleen and Fionnula. Bridget at least wore her hair longer than her identical brothers, so that gave Danse a fighting chance amongst the triplets.

Eamon was tall and lanky like his mother, while 'Teej' was on the stockier side like his father. All of the children were freckled and sported either blue-black or dark brown locks, further adding to Danse's predicament.

As the days turned into weeks and the paladin slowly regained his health, he found himself automatically settling into the schedule of the O'Brian family. It was comforting to have a routine. Maybe that was the military in him. Rise before daybreak, milk the brahmin, gather the laundry, weed the crops…

His nose mercifully healed as good as new. No visible damage remained aside from a small mark at the peak of the bridge, right between his eyes. His shoulders were much the same, functional even though they were now graced with long, jagged lines of scar tissue from where the power armor frame had collapsed. Danse knew he was incredibly lucky to have escaped from a deathclaw so unscathed.

Tom managed to find a few old pairs of jeans that would fit Danse somewhat after the paladin expressed his concern at his threadbare jumpsuit. "From my younger days!" The older man claimed, tugging Katie close and planting a kiss on her cheek. "Back when I had to stay in shape so that my beautiful bride wouldn't grow tired of me."

Katie chuckled, swatting Tom's arm. "If you thought a few extra pounds would scare me off, you don't know me very well." She teased.

Clad in blue jeans and a tattered assortment of too-small hand-me-down flannel shirts, Danse almost fit in. Almost. He still held himself a bit too rigid to really get away with assimilation, but Katie assured him he at least looked the part. He was still certain to make himself scarce whenever company came calling, not wanting to bring trouble to the O'Brians.

He refused to be deadweight to the already-struggling family however, and as he was not exactly gifted in the areas of agriculture and animal husbandry, the paladin quickly fell back on one of the many practical skills he possessed.

Hunting.

Only armed with his service pistol now, the man was up well before dawn on the days he stalked prey. He avoided the roads as much as possible, sticking to the brush. The last thing he wanted was to draw any attention to himself and, in turn, the family fostering him. Occasionally he was accompanied by Teej or Tom, both senior and junior relatively skilled hunters in their own right. Through their combined efforts Danse was able to contribute a bit more protein to the large family's diet, while simultaneously balming the concerns that he had about being a burden.

Eamon was a quiet, peaceable young man and helped Katie manage the younger children while Tom was away. He was adept at settling squabbles and redistributing toys to keep the peace. Danse couldn't help but picture him becoming a knight and sponsoring countless fledgling initiates.

He then felt idiotic for still thinking about young people and children in the Brotherhood way, as if they were all destined to be military assets thrown at the next enemy. Danse slowly forced himself to recalibrate, doing his damnedest to imagine a world where a gentle man could still have a future. Maybe Eamon would be a teacher, or a merchant in tandem with his mother's wares.

Matthew and Bridget were all but attached at the hip, the two of them dogging Danse's footsteps and peppering him with questions when he was in the yard or weeding. The paladin had taken over a ramshackle trailer that sat across the road from the homestead as 'his', and the two children were always eager to visit as soon as he sat down on the front step in the mornings with his cup of coffee. Connor was a little more shy, hanging back from his outspoken siblings.

Bridget was the first one to demand that Danse show her how to shoot. "Papa won't. He says I have to be twelve." She huffed. "But I'm almost twelve, and that's like being twelve."

"I'm sorry, little one. I can't go against his orders." Danse tried to soften the blow by asking her to teach him how to do something, which was how the paladin found himself learning how to make a poppet out of dried corn husks. Not exactly a practical skill, but he supposed he could do with a few less conventional lessons.

Connor actually approached him while he was being instructed, the normally-timid boy offering him a few pointers to make the task a little less challenging. "I'm not good at braidin' like Brigey, so I gotta' hold the ends real tight." He mumbled, tiny hands miles more deft than Danse's had ever been pushing and pulling his fingers to get the arms of the doll tucked properly.

Bridget praised Danse just like her mother praised her when she accomplished something, and the paladin got a little misty at the notion that his own tendencies towards praise while he was in the Brotherhood might have made a few of the aspirants more inclined to be encouraging to their fellow soldiers.

It was hysterical to be supported by a child for his proverbial 'field work', but the way Bridget's little brow furrowed sternly told Danse that she was deadly serious and he should take her as such.

"You are very patient for someone your age." Danse commented, holding up his latest attempt for her inspection.

"We gotta' work together, Mr. Danse. Mama says I'm the strong one, Matt's the brave one and Connor's the smart one." She replied, squinting at the length of husk he had tied around the body of his little creation. "Almost! You're getting better and better." The thin girl clapped her hands like she was applauding him and Danse couldn't help his sad smile.

"Show me again, please?" He requested.

…

Vega had no idea how many days it had been.

After Rhys had brought Brandis' evening meal (and snuck Vega something in the process), the knight had whispered that Maxson seemed to be waiting for something when it came to dealing with the two 'dissenters' in the brig.

"Not sure if he's trying to use her to draw the Institute into attacking us directly? I just don't get it." Rhys swallowed hard, glancing over his shoulder before continuing, "According to our field reports, Danse is dead. They bagged him out in the Sea and incinerated his body."

Backhand had been expecting this news, but hearing it aloud felt like a kick to the stomach. She sobbed out once before she could help it, drawing Rhys' attention back to her.

" Fuck , Vega, I'm so sorry." The knight apologized tremulously. "He sponsored Haylen and I, he was fucking selfless and loyal to the cause. I don't...God, I can't believe he's gone."

"Rhys, this cannot be allowed to continue." Brandis declared, "we are being held without trial, without evidence! Maxson has no right to-"

"Anyone who questions his judgement is threatened with the same treatment Vega is getting." Rhys interjected dully. "None of us know what the hell to do , Brandis. The consensus is that we need to forcibly eject him, but no one person seems to have the balls to do it." The knight tipped his head forward in shame. "Not even me. If something happens to me, I don't know what might become of Haylen and I...I can't risk it. I'm sorry, Brandis. And Vega, you don't deserve this shit."

"Don't apologize, son. I'll...I'll figure out something." Brandis replied sadly, letting the knight re-shackle him as loud footsteps heralded Maxson's approach to the brig.

"Out of the cell, Knight Rhys." The elder ordered sharply, his voice sending a new frisson of scalding fury through Backhand's battered body.

He killed Danse .

"Maxson, how long do you plan to stand on ceremony like this?" Brandis queried as Rhys obediently departed. "This is not justice! "

"I see the knight forgot to gag you again." Maxson shrugged. "No matter. Nothing that you say will have any real impact." He tugged open the cell door and sauntered in, standing over Vega's crumpled body. "We slaughtered that abomination out in the Glowing Sea." Maxson chuckled in a self-satisfied manner. "It thought it could run from us."

Backhand squeezed her eyes shut tight against the hot wave of tears that threatened to spill over, forcing herself to focus on the rage instead. "You're a real prick, Maxson." She rasped.

Maxson caught her arm and roughly yanked her upright from the spot where she had collapsed previously, gripping her shoulders in a pantomime of a caring embrace. "We incinerated it and cast its ashes to the wind." The young man answered smugly, those cold blue eyes boring into her own when she mustered up the strength to raise her head.

" You ," Vega seethed through her teeth at the elder of the Brotherhood, "were a fuckin' god to Danse, know that? You could do no wrong in his eyes. And you killed him ." The reality of it hadn't wholly set in for her yet and she clung to the rage she felt, nurturing it into a grudge in her chest. "But you're not a god at all, are you Arthur? You're just a scared little brat who got too much power too soon." She spat.

Maxson ground his teeth, grabbing her by the throat yet again and slamming her back against the bars of the gate. "Keep testing my patience, Vega, and we'll see who the scared one is!" He roared in threat as she struggled weakly in his grip.

...

The celebration dinner for Siusan's first birthday was surprisingly elaborate. The entire house was decorated with garlands of hubflower and ash blossom, painstakingly woven together by Matt and Connor. Katie had been baking with Eamon and Kathleen for the past two days, stockpiling a variety of sweet treats for the youngest family member's fête.

Danse, for his part, had done his best to stay out from underfoot. He helped Tom move several of the old tables together, and obediently smoothed the wrinkles out of the faded purple tablecloth that Katie asked him to cover the tables with.

Vega never even got to have this with her son , he thought somberly. No birthdays, no celebrations...nothing. First the divorce and then the war, one right after the other .

It was a saddening topic to think about and Danse found himself distracted by it. The fact that she had been so thoroughly robbed of raising her child, despite her oft-voiced trepidation of whether she was a good parent...

Well, there was nothing he could do about it, was there?

That night Siusan sat on her mother's lap at the table, staring wide-eyed at the child-sized mutfruit pie that was just out of her reach while everyone in the family sang her Happy Birthday .

Danse hung back in the doorway, feeling a little awkward until Katie urged him in. Fionnula immediately clamored that Danse had to sit next to her. Sandwiched between Kathleen and Fionnula, Danse slowly relaxed enough to smile and even laugh once or twice, his own attitude affected by the collective high spirits of the O'Brians. It reminded him of being at Sanctuary and with a melancholic pang, he recalled the simple meal he had shared with Elizabeth and her makeshift 'family'.

Not a day passed that he didn't think about her. Her smile, her voice, the pleased flush she got when he praised her performance in the field, her selfless nature...

Danse had convinced himself that she was better off without him, though. The Brotherhood would allow her to achieve her future goals of totally breaching the Institute's defenses, hopefully letting her enact that master plan of freeing any synths that wished to be freed. He just prayed that the Brotherhood wouldn't override her and decide to wholly eradicate the Institute instead.

Maybe once he got himself far away from the Commonwealth, he could send her a message. Something simple that wouldn't compromise her position. Would she even care, though?

Danse, lost in thought about Elizabeth once again, didn't notice the young man looming in the front doorway for several minutes. Not until Tom called, "Garvey! You're just in time for pie, pull up a chair!"

Preston removed his hat politely and Danse felt his heart plummet to his boots. "Evening, Thomas. Katie. I'm afraid this isn't a social call." Lieutenant Garvey said calmly. "I'd like to speak with you outside, Paladin." His eyes were flinty despite his mild tone. Dogmeat was at his heel, the large German shepherd's ears flat against his skull.

Danse surprised himself by nodding, the paladin rising from the table with a murmured apology. "I'll return shortly." He promised Matthew, the little boy looking like he might pitch a fuss. Danse then followed Preston outside, barely resisting the urge to jam his hands into his pockets and hunch his shoulders like a squire waiting to be scolded.

What he didn't expect was Preston's next sentence. "Alright, where the hell is she?"

Danse blinked at the other man, suddenly confused and off-balance. "I don't understand." He said finally.

Preston huffed angrily, "The general , Danse! She's been missing for weeks now, ever since you and your little tin soldiers were all getting prepped for heading to the Sea!"

Danse was sure all the color had drained out of his face. Was he going to pass out? Did something like him even have the ability to pass out? No, no, he had been unconscious before. But did that count as actual unconsciousness-

He grabbed the side of the building to steady himself, his voice shaking when he pleaded with Preston to explain. Dogmeat whined, licking at Danse's hand.

"How the hell do you not know?! She went missing on your watch!" Garvey protested. "She hasn't been seen at all, Danse. Not at any settlements, not around the airport... nothing . It's been a big fat radio silence."

"Oh my God." Danse's voice was frail.

"You...you really didn't know, did you?" Preston asked incredulously. "What are you even doing out here anyways? Shouldn't you be at the airport with the rest of your troops? I thought Dogmeat's nose had busted when he led me here ."

Danse opened his mouth, then hesitated. The reality of being a synth was something he was still trying to come to terms with, but lying to Garvey would no doubt make everything worse. "Lieutenant Garvey, I must confide in you." He fixed his attention firmly on Preston's boots. "Some information was discovered after the first journey into the Institute. Something pertaining to me. I of course, was not made privy to such information before we had departed for the Glowing Sea, but another individual of the Brotherhood managed to tip me off in time. When last I saw Vega, she was returning to Waypoint Echo on foot per the elder's orders. After we were separated, I...I was fired upon." He said gruffly, the words filling him with a morose sensation.

"Whoa, wait a minute. Danse are you saying you're a-" Preston lowered his voice, "are you saying you're a synth? " His heart hammering in his throat, the paladin raised his eyes to Garvey's and nodded wordlessly. "So what happened in the Sea, then?"

"We reached our target and cleared the area without incident. She was under orders directly from Elder Maxson to report back immediately once the area was secured. I was tasked with guarding the munitions. I was attacked by my own troops, so...I fled." Danse confessed.

" Damn . That is...that's a lot , Danse. She had to report straight back?"

Danse nodded. "Correct. Maxson was very firm on that."

"You don't think your elder guy would have...I dunno', locked her up or something?" Preston suggested, pointing out, "You disappearing probably looked pretty bad. She'd be a suspect."

The paladin swallowed hard, this new realization crushing down on him. "I had not considered the ramifications my sponsorship would impose upon her." He rasped. " God , Garvey, I didn't think...I didn't...I thought I was doing the right thing. Hell, I should have let myself be slain. I'm an abomination , I'm everything that I signed up to eradicate. Of course they would--God, I'm so sorry, if they suspect her, I..." His thoughts were a tangled mess, loping this way and that.

"Don't be sorry yet." Preston grumbled. "What the hell am I supposed to do, Danse? She's the only way into the Institute. I can't just let her cool her heels on that fancy balloon, not when we're so close to taking the Institute down!"

"If I had my armor, I might be able to sneak into the airport. But I don't." Danse said unhappily, burying his fingers in the thick ruff Dogmeat sported. "If I go anywhere near there without some sort of protection, they'll just gun me down. Kill on sight."

"Now's not the time to consider a sweeping policy reform, unfortunately. If we got you a suit…" Preston trailed off, then changed the subject. "Pack whatever you have. You're coming with me."

"Right now?" Danse asked.

" Yes , right now!" Preston retorted sharply. "The hell is wrong with you, man?"

"I just...I'll need to say goodbye, that's all." Danse felt immensely awkward, but he pressed on, "The O'Brians have been extremely kind to me during my prolonged stay in their residence."

"Oh. Oh . Okay, yeah. Go ahead. But make it quick!" Garvey blustered, jamming his hat down a little.

Danse crept back into the O'Brian family dwelling, his footfalls muffled by a rousing rendition of The Ants Go Marching that Siusan was enthusiastically enjoying. This struck Danse as odd, seeing as how the only ants he had ever seen were the size of stray dogs. And why on earth would ants trouble themselves about the rain? Most of the irradiated insects seemed to love it.

He managed to catch Tom's attention and pull him off to the side, explaining in low tones what was happening.

Tom surprised him by punching Danse lightly in the chest. "I'm shocked it took you this long to get your head straight." The older man chuckled. "Go get her, Danse. Paladin Danse."

...

The trek to the Castle, or rather Fort Independence, took almost six hours. Preston avoided a majority of the destroyed roads, the both of them tensing up every time they heard the whirring blades of a vertibird approach.

"They shouldn't be able to see us without using the searchlights." Danse informed Preston as Dogmeat flitted behind the supports of a ruined overpass. "They have no methods of thermal detection."

"I'm still not taking any chances." Preston grumbled. " I've got people counting on me, Danse." Danse fell silent at that, just following after the Minuteman and keeping his mouth shut.

I've got people counting on me .

Once upon a time, that had been Danse. An example to his brothers and sisters, the pride of the Brotherhood. Now, he skulked through the darkness like a fugitive. A traitor to his cause. A liar, by omission or by ignorance. A fraud .

Danse wiped at his eyes, frustrated with his own weakness. How the hell was he such an emotional wreck? He was a machine for God's sake. It was hardly fair that everything in him was screaming that he was human when he had already been backhanded with the empirical evidence to the contrary.

M7-97 .

He gritted his teeth, exhaling through his nose. He didn't have the luxury of contemplating his humanity at this point in time. Maybe someday, once everything had sunk in, he would be able to examine himself from a critical stance. But for the moment, it needed to be compartmentalized.

"If I cannot reacquire the general," he began cautiously, "perhaps I can still be of service. If I am a synth, maybe there's a way for me to…" A lump rose in his throat. "Return, I suppose? Breach their defenses accordingly?"

Preston hummed thoughtfully. "Vega did mention a synth reclamation department. And coursers , the guys sent out to reclaim the escapees." He shuddered, his grip tightening on his musket. "She had to put one of those bastards down to get what she needed in the first place. It was brutal. She said he almost killed her. I guess they're made for hunting synths or something?"

Danse felt sick to his stomach, remembering Vega talking about the courser mourning the loss of his friend. "Well, we have the option," He muttered, "should the need arise. Proctor Quinlan often said that the best edge is the unexpected one."

The walls of the Castle solidified against the night sky and Danse caught the scent of the sea on the breeze, the smell refreshing his memory of finding Vega half-dead in the Minutemen's crumbling excuse for a fortress. It appeared that they had done extensive renovations since his last visit, however.

"Well well well, look what the lieutenant dragged in!" Sturges chuckled without humor from beside the outermost guard tower, his eyes uncharacteristically narrowed. Danse didn't miss the way his grip on his old rifle tightened. "You've got some explainin' to do, big fella'!" The cheer in his voice was decidedly hostile.

"Stand down, Sturges." Preston said wearily. "We need your help. You still got that suit you were working on?"

Sturges chewed on his answer for a moment before he finally nodded. "Garvey, you'd better not be suggestin' what I think you are." He gestured up at Danse with the hunting rifle.

"We don't have a lot of options, Sturges. He's been kicked out of the Brotherhood." Preston replied curtly.

Sturges did a double take. "You uh, wanna' run that by me again sir? The holiest of rollers was kicked out? What the hell did you do? " The mechanic asked Danse incredulously.

Danse swallowed hard. "It would appear that I am...less human than I had been led to believe." He stated, trying to choose his words with care.

"Well, physically anyway." Garvey tacked on grudgingly.

Sturges' mouth curved into an 'o' as the truth dawned on him. " Ho then. That uh, explains that. Damn. Damn . But...shit. So where the hell is the general?" He muttered, as if to himself.

"According to Danse, he's been on the run since their foray into the Glowing Sea. That was also the last contact he had with General Vega." Preston explained.

"I've heard about how damn wild the Brotherhood gets over synths. How the hell did you even escape?" Sturges queried, his tone suspicious.

Danse cleared his throat. "One of the soldiers I sponsored tipped me off right before we set out into the Glowing Sea. Scribe Haylen saved my life. Originally I assumed that Vega was to be my executioner, but it turned out that she had orders from our elder to return as soon as we have verified the location." Danse paused. "We were separated and shortly thereafter, the Brotherhood attempted to end my life."

"Just like that?" Sturges gawked. "How long you been Brotherhood, Danse? Good ten years? Fifteen? I can't even believe that shit. Pitched to the wayside on account of some fuckin' speculation!"

"Not speculation, if Scribe Haylen's information was accurate." Danse corrected the other man. "My DNA matched the DNA of an escaped Institute asset known as M7-97."

" Escaped , though. So you're a Railroad refurb like me, you ain't some shitbag infiltrator unit!" Sturges protested, ushering Preston and Danse further into the courtyard. "How could they just try to snuff you? Brotherhood's gone balls-deep this time."

Danse hadn't actually thought about it like that, but he supposed it made sense. He wouldn't have been listed as escaped if he was assigned to infiltrate the ranks of the Brotherhood, that wouldn't make any sense. It was almost a relief to realize that maybe, just maybe there hadn't been some ulterior, coded motive behind him joining up with the Brotherhood. That and the fact that there wouldn't have been someone he was replacing.

So for all intents and purposes, he was the original and only Paladin Danse. A comforting thought.

Sturges wasn't done though. "If you're here and Vega ain't, that means your boys in armor have her. If she ain't dead, of course." The mechanic mused. "Might be that they thought she was in on your little secret and capped her instead of botherin' with interrogation."

"I would greatly appreciate if you would not suggest that Vega is dead, Sturges." Danse's palms started to sweat, his breathing rough for a moment. Calm down, calm down .

"Well I'd greatly fuckin' appreciate if she wasn't dead neither, big fella', but until we know for sure…" Sturges shrugged. "Anyway, to work. Got a real cherry suit here, a little pet project of mine, and if you're goin' to that airport, I imagine you'll want some protection."

"I'll need it just to get near to the damn place at this point." Danse mumbled.

Sturges' grin was a little less hostile this time. "I think you'll like your chances."

Part Fifteen

#fallout 4 #fallout four #spoilers #paladin danse #paladin danse x sole survivor #Eventual romance #paladin danse/sole survivor #paladin danse x f!sole #paladin danse imagine #fo4 companions imagine #fo4 companions #fo4 paladin danse #preston garvey #fo4 preston garvey #brotherhood of steel #canon-typical violence #slow burn

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