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incensus-nix · 5 years

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.: tree house :.

❝ Hey Bethany. ❞

❝ Hey what? ❞

❝ Have you ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight? ❞

❝ Have you ever been punched so hard you had to stop talking for a week? ❞

He whines, leaning into his fist and pushing up his sunglasses with his other hand. ❝ Sheesh, what’s gotten into you? ❞

❝ Nothing, until you started talking nonsense. ❞

❝ I was being poetic — ❞

❝ Stick to spying, kid. ❞

There was a moment, then he laughed, picking his chin off his hand and setting them behind his head. ❝ Did you hear about that chef? ❞

❝ Huh? No? Wha — ❞

❝ He pasta away. ❞

She grumbled. ❝ I hope you pasta away. ❞

Shocked, he puts his hand over his chest, mouth agape. ❝ You are just fresh today. ❞

Rubbing her eyes, Bethany sighs, the stretches her arms across her legs, falling forwards almost comically. ❝ I have a headache. ❞

❝ Try some tea or something. ❞

❝ Not that kind of headache. ❞

❝ Ah — well, ❞ he wasn’t sure what to say for that. He’d been spending an extra amount of time with her as she cut herself off of chems. Usually she used booze and an excuse to ward any urges but lately she’d been cut off from that. Purified water and hubflower tea had become the norm. ❝ Just take a nap. ❞

❝ We just woke up. ❞

❝ Sometimes we need a nap after waking up? ❞

She looks up at him with a small grin, then just shrugs it off. ❝ Maybe later, c’mon. ❞ Standing up from where they were sitting, Bethany opens and closes her hands repeatedly for him to follow her and take her hand into his own so she could lean on.

He does as silently instructed with no protest, pushing himself up and slipping his hand into hers, then adjusting it so that their palms together turned to being fingers lacing and intertwining against the other’s.

❝ Where we off to? ❞ he asked, moving along with her nearing shoulder to shoulder now, looking over his own to make sure no one was creeping on them either. Not that they weren’t obviously an item at this point, but he didn’t want to invite the idea that people could snoop either. He wanted privacy, whereas Bethany didn’t seem to care if all of a sudden up was down.

❝ Treehouse, ❞ she answered back, her voice slightly aloof now. Though she was cut off from chems, sometimes she still had a distant air about her that he couldn’t quite pinpoint. What was going on up there? She promised to talk about certain topics, but they hadn’t exactly picked up on that yet. He figured for now they’d get on with figuring out the physical stuff but it was all still directly related in the end. The chems helped get her away from the chaos, but then created a whole new one. Off of them, she had a more clear sense of her surroundings, however, her mind would never really recover from the mental damage over the years.

Giving some of the cats pats on their heads, two of the many furry critters followed Bethany and Deacon up the winding stairway up into the house fixed upon branches. It was cozy, though slightly barren of furniture. Still of a bit of a work in progress, at least it was fixed with lighting and some decent seating. Empty bottles from someone else’s gathering still remained from the night before, Bethany separating herself from him to clean up the little mess left behind for them.

Assuming now this was their project for the time being, Deacon arranged some of the furniture and things, like books and magazines, back in order until the area seemed presentable enough for the two of them to hangout in.

Plopping himself on the couch, he grabbed a Grognak the Barbarian comic to flip through, still have amused by the content that he must’ve read over a hundred times at this point. Those prewar writers surely had the sense of imagination…

Leaving the bottles at the edge of the stairwell to take back down with them when they leave, Bethany turned her attention to Deacon relaxing on the sofa, tiptoeing her way over to him and kneeling down at his side.

Sensing she had joined his bubble, he slid his glasses down a bit, folding the comic back up and tossing it back onto the pile on the table, then placing his arms behind his head with a light smirk. ❝ What’s up? ❞ Pursing her lips forward, Bethany held back a girlish smile, then leaned in over the side of the couch to give him a soft peck on the lips. ❝ Oh, I see — ❞ He couldn’t help but let himself go with a grin.

With all the arguments and frustrations surrounding them both, it was undeniable that they had a magnetic attraction. Why he allowed himself to give into her charm was beyond him, but she had a way of pulling people in that wanted to business with dealing with her. The piercing steel eyes that almost looked like reflections of polished silver in the light would make anyone a believer of what she was preaching.

They both shrouded themselves in a type of mystery that neither one of them had completely uncracked. While somethings had played themselves to the surface, it was merely a tip of the iceberg of everything that happened between them. So when they bumped heads on methods and madness, there was an underlying respect they shared for the other. Beginning as a smoke and mirrors game, the truth eventually revealed itself. Sometimes they find themselves both still playing but they both have learned to believe in the lies and question the truth.

Rolling a loose hair from her ear, Bethany hugs her knees as she remains on the floor next to him. ❝ You leave tomorrow, right? ❞

He pushes his sunglasses up, turning from her to lean his head back into his hands. ❝ Yeah — ❞ he drags a bit on that note. ❝ Doc’s got lead on a synth that needs to be picked up. Figured I give Mina a helping hand on this one. Navigating those subways is a real pain in the ass. ❞

A light nod, she looks away onto the floorboard, then back up at him. ❝ Don’t die out there or I’m gunna kill you. ❞

He turns his head at her, pulling down his shades by the bridge and squints at her, smirking a few then letting out a small laugh. ❝ You’re gunna kill me if I die? ❞

Poking at his rib, she answers. ❝ Absolutely. ❞

❝ Yikes, this is a lose/lose scenario for me, huh? ❞

❝ Not unless you come back alive. ❞

❝ Woof, guess I’ve only got one choice. ❞

Affirming his answer, Bethany feels a sense of pride getting her message across and somehow not starting some type of bickering contest between them. It’s been calmer, at least, with her being able to slow down and rationally form some thoughts and not immediately jumping the gun.

Another bit of silence, Bethany couldn’t stand it, the deafening sounds of her own thoughts once again filling. A new level of anxiety now filled her, when Deacon left on Railroad business, instead of worrying about her own demise, she was thinking of two.

It was a quick moment, Deacon saw, the switch between calm and fear, himself quickly reaching a hand out towards her jaw and using it to pull her into a kiss, shifting more to his side to deepen it. The harsh breathes in they both took, holding into their breath as long as one could before parting lips to take in oxygen again.

❝ It’s alright. They never see me, ❞ he whispered in reassurance, Bethany now touching her forehead to his. ❝ Don’t worry about me. ❞

❝ Hard not to… ❞

He keeps her mind at ease, though, kissing her again and sitting up on the sofa and pulling her up onto his lap. He’d have to try and keep her focused on something else — something better.

Taking off his sunglasses, he tossed them onto the table with the comics, then pushed her closer into his torso, locking her into a fury of kisses now, giving her a distraction away from the thoughts that had crossed her mind earlier.

Her own hands crawled up underneath the fabric of his shirt, touching the ripples of his abdomen hidden beneath. She was aware of his attempts to calm her down, but it wasn’t exactly working. At least, it was turning into a different energy in the room now.

As soon as her fingertips reached his skin, Deacon reached around the sides of his shirt and pulled it from the bottom up over his head. In turn, he now had his hands over the buttons of her blouse, opening the closures quickly from top to bottom, revealing Bethany’s pale toned skin and bare chest.

Unlike the first time they had attempted fate, they found themselves awkward and unknowing of what the other wanted. Now, it was a different tune. Where they once had to brace themselves for glance or touch, they craved it from one another.

As each piece of clothing was tossed and fallen to the treehouse floor, the two loved now lay across the couch, barely enough space to fit the two of them horizontally. There were moments to which one of them nearly fell off the edge, unleashing a roar of giggles between them, then interrupted by gasps of air and quiet pleas.

With a trembling cry from her, Deacon placed his fingers softly over her lips, insisting she try to keep it quiet in a somewhat public place. Biting her bottom lip, she whined a bit more as he lasted only moments longer and doing his best to not completely collapse overtop of her.

Tiny beads of sweat pooled on them both, Deacon pushing hers off her forehead and pressing his lips against it, then forcing himself next to her and sharing the sofa space as best as possible.

Only a few quick comments, unrelated to even the passing actions, one on how the cats managed to flee the scene in time. Sharing more soft moments, a shiver was felt over Bethany’s skin and yet no blanket to fix the problem.

❝ Alright, time for clothes. Up, up — ❞ he popped up and leaned on one arm, waiting for her to try and make the next move, but she instead turned into him and buried herself into his bare skin.

❝ I’m not ready for you to leave, ❞ she said in protest, pressing herself more into him, in turn forcing him into the cushions.

Sighing, he played with a few stands of loose hair that had fallen into her face, then rested a hand on the crook between her neck and shoulder. ❝ I’m going to come back. ❞

She squeezed her eyes closed. ❝ You don’t know that. ❞

❝ Yes I do. ❞

❝ How? ❞

❝ I wanna do that again. ❞ She threw her head up at him, then glared, but he was without any sort of shame on the comment. ❝ What? I do. That was awesome. I’m totally legit coming back for some of that again. ❞

❝ I legitimate can’t stand you sometimes. ❞

A laugh, then he moved his hand down to her backside to give it a slight squeeze. ❝ Get dressed, and I’ll be back before you know it. ❞

With the lighter mood, she still groaned and rolled off the couch and lazily started putting on her clothes and tossing his back at him.

Once standing up and ready to go, the two faced each other checking to see if the other was on the same page. But hesitation followed, neither one of them taking the first steps. Rather, Deacon making the motion to her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders and speaking low into her ear. ❝ There’s a million more things in this world I want to do, and I want to do them with you. ❞

She pulls always for a second to get a better look on his face, Sneaking up a finger to pull down his sunglasses, Bethany finds a pair of smiling blue eyes staring back down at her, her own welling up slightly.

❝ I want to do them with you, too. ❞

Strangely enough, her headache had disappeared.

#*my writing #ch: bethany #ch: deacon

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incensus-nix · 5 years

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❝ i don’t even like you. ❞ ❝ you’re my favorite, too. ❞

#ch: bethany #ch: deacon #*my edit

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incensus-nix · 5 years

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❝ i can help you carry this burden -- whatever it is your carrying. let me in. ❞

#*au #*avengers fallout #*my edit

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incensus-nix · 5 years

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❝ he was my friend... b3-10. -- and i’ll do whatever it takes to remind you who that was, bucky. ❞

#*au #*avengers fallout #*my edit

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incensus-nix · 5 years

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after experiencing “feelings” i have decided that this just isn’t for me but thank you for the opportunity

#ch: deacon

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incensus-nix · 5 years

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A tall, broad shouldered man walked leisurely beyond the gates of the great, green jewel, Diamond City. Removing a batter’s helmet off his head, long blond locks fell onto his shoulders, his fingertips raking over his scalp to control the few strays out of his eyesight.

❝ Whoa, there, Odinson. Where th’ hell didya find that hammer? ❞ It was one of the other security guards, Volstagg, larger in girth, poking at the giant modified sledgehammer across his back.

The blond grinned, pulling off his back and setting it on the counter space of what was once a ticket booth. ❝ Found it! Well, had my way with a couple of supermutants and stole it off the biggest one I killed. So, that whole finders-keepers sort of deal. ❞

❝ Hm, playing dirty now, are we, Thor? ❞ A raven haired guard approached, throwing her long hair up into a high pony tail.

❝ Only if they started it, good Sif ❞ he winks at her, then leaning into both hands against the booth. ❝ Any word from McDonough? ❞

❝ Mayor McDonough, boy. You don’t want to be caught bein’ disrespectful now, ❞ the gingerly guard added, tearing into a roasted yao guai leg.

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. ❝ Right, mayor. ❞ Thor hadn’t been exactly his biggest fan, but the pay was good enough to stick around. And for whatever reason, McDonough was fond of the guardsman. Thor had the best track record out of them all when it came to killing unwanted creatures from the outside. He was becoming a legend around the area, some wondering if he was even real himself.

Sif shook her head, then leaned into the wall. ❝ Nothing more than spooking everyone inside about synths. Piper’s been snooping again, too. ❞ Thor grinned. ❝ The mayor asked me to keep her out but I may have been preoccupied and let her slip away. ❞ Looking at her nails, she shrugged off the mistake as if she meant for it to happen.

❝ Bummer, maybe we should keep a closer eye on her, ❞ he responds with a yawn, rubbing at both of his own in the process.

❝ Indeed. ❞

The larger guard just shook his head, continuing to chow down on his dinner.

Hours later, the guardsmen were switching shifts, and the three wandered off deeper into the old stadium. Inside, they sat at the bar enjoying rounds of Gwinnett brews and noodle bowls. In the midst of conversation, a lit tap touched the shoulder of Thor, him turning quickly to see who was disturbing his relaxation.

❝ Ah — Piper. ❞ He looks down at her hand, two fingers holding a folded note. ❝ What’s this? ❞

❝ A message from Goodneighbor. Fancy that, ❞ the reporter arched a brow, handing it off to him. Sif squinted a bit at the other dark haired woman, but creeped around Thor to read what was on it. The two of them were far too alike at times.

❝ This… is from Loki? How did you come across this? ❞ He asked, looking up from the note now.

She pushes her lips to the side a moment. ❝ I was… out. A friend of mine insisted I was escorted but not before traveling to there first. Your brother found me and told me to give you that note — I promise I don’t know what it says! ❞ She leans as Sif did though, just to see if she could get a hint of handwriting out of it.

Instead, Thor crumpled it up and tossed it into Takahashi’s stove fire, burning the paper up instantly. Everyone pouted.

❝ He’s just high on chems again. Good for nothing scoundrel. ❞

Sif looked to Piper, then back to the blond with a smug grin. ❝ What did he accuse you of this time? ❞

Thor said nothing but slammed a fistful of caps onto the counter and removed himself from the bar, heading back to his place in the upper level stands. Sif, taken slightly aback, rubbed her forearm and looked away from the rest, ordering two more rounds of beer for each hand.

The following morning, Sif wandered her way up through the broken seats of the stadium to knock a few on Thor’s door. Hopefully his mood had changed up a bit from hours prior, herself loosing a bit of sleep over the matter.

Moments later, the sounds of the door unlocking and creaking open to Thor who was in the middle of packing. Brows wrinkling together, she stepped in slowly and asked, ❝ What’s all this? ❞

❝ Just a few days in Goodneighbor. Less if I’m lucky. ❞

She licked her lip, then rolled a piece of loose hair behind her ear. ❝ This has something to do with your brother? ❞

After zipping the pack and throwing it over his shoulder with his sledge hammer, he walks to move past her. ❝ Yep. ❞

Throwing her hands down and turning to follow him, she protests, ❝ You don’t have to do this alone, Thor — He’s always giving you trouble and every time you come back from there you become a different person. He’s — he’s slowly tearing away at you. ❞

Closing his eyes, he sighs and turns to Sif, his patience running thin. ❝ It’s a family thing. Don’t worry about it. ❞

❝ Fat chance on that. You have a family here, you know. Whether you want to admit it or not, we’ve all found family here! ❞ She wouldn’t dare admit anything beyond that. Harboring intense feelings since the moment they joined the guard together, there wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do to watch his back. Even as mighty as he was, it was still dangerous out there. Somebody had to take care of him while he took care of everyone else. Her voice softened, reaching out again to touch his arm. ❝ Please don’t shut us out, again. Please. ❞

It was like his skin was burning at her fingers wrapped across his forearm. She had been desperately trying for weeks to keep Thor grounded. The mysterious notes from his brother, and then disappearing for days at a time, only to come back haggard and worn was getting to him. But he saw no need to subject others to his problems. It wouldn’t be fair to them, especially with a world in ruin.

Pulling his arm from her, he then wraps it around her waist and closes the gap between them in a tight embrace. Leaning his forehead down to her temple, he speaks low into her ear, ❝ Take care of Volstagg, won’t you? He’s getting fatter by the day. ❞

And seeming too soon for her liking, he slips away and not looking back to continue his journey out of Diamond City to find Loki in the filth of Goodneighbor. Wiping a tear from her cheek, she clasps her hand over her chest and finds herself escaping into his loft, closing the door behind her with the lock and attempting to fix the place up for when he returns. He always left things such a mess…

It wasn’t the walks to Goodneighbor that was dangerous. It was the newly established and lawlessness of the new town that was. Most drifters that came from Goodneighbor wanted nothing to do with it after the fact. And those that stayed had a particular style of living. It was a miracle Thor made as many trips there and left without being completely consumed.

Entering the main gates lit up in neon lights, Thor walked briskly past the vendors as he wove through the gutters of the streets, looking for Loki. Cursing as he was only finding junkies and Triggermen, he then checked down at the local bar, The Third Rail, but no sign of him either.

With Magnolia on the mic and Whitechapel Charlie serving drinks, the hulking guard sat up on a barstool and laid out some caps. He needed a drink already and it was barely midday.

❝ You look like shit, mate, ❞ the modified Mr. Handy said to Thor, cleaning out a glass with a rang and setting on top of the pile of clean drink ware.

Pushing his lips together, he forces a smile and lifts his beer slightly to acknowledge the comment. ❝ You’re looking rusty as ever, Charlie. ❞

The robot gives a snarky laugh, then leans in closer with one of three mechanical eyes. ❝ What’s it this time, mate? ❞

❝ You know. ❞

❝ Last I saw him was in the Memory Den. Best to try your luck there, mate. ❞

Thor wrinkles a brow. The Memory Den? But why? He had no business there. ❝ I suppose that’s the next stop. ❞ Chugging the rest of his drink, he slams the bottle down and makes for an exit.

❝ Don’t forget to leave a tip for the lady, mate, ❞ the robot moans out, collecting the drink caps for himself.

Flicking a cap into a hat laid out at Magnolia’s feet, she gives her patron a wink and continues on her tune for the rest to enjoy.

At the old theater, Thor makes his way through the giant wooden doors and travels through the winding halls to find the owner, Irma, slinked over her chaise lounge. ❝ We’re not taking any new guests — ❞

❝ Where’s Loki? ❞ he interrupts, already looking into the pods and trying to find his brother plugged into one.

❝ You’re have to wait, sir, ❞ she stands up slowly and makes her way to him. ❝ You cannot interrupt the sequences while they’re still in the pods. ❞

Curling his lips, he targets one in particular pods, then starts banging on it loudly. ❝ The fuck I can’t — ❞ He bangs again and starts tearing it open from the bottom until it starts to budge open.

❝ Mr. Odinson! ❞

❝ Quiet you! ❞ he snaps back, then tears the pod open to find a very, very terrified looking man on the inside. Messy black hair in his face and dark circles around his eyes, he wasn’t exactly expecting this reunion to be so dramatic.

Waving weakly, he curls his fingers back into his palm, a wicked smile stretching over his lips. ❝ Hello…. brother. ❞

Yanking him from the seat, he throws Loki into the ground and kicks him in the thigh. ❝ For god’s sake, you two, take it outside! I have other patrons here! ❞ Irma yells, chasing after them both. Thor spat, then grabbed Loki by the collar and dragging him through the halls until he threw him yet again, through the double doors and into the street filth of Goodneighbor.

❝ Are you high or just this fucking stupid all the time now? ❞ Thor growled, kneeling at his brother’s level, who was just rolling over onto his back, coughing a bit before smiling again at the blond.

❝ Enlightened, I’d like to think… ❞ he coughed again, the sprawled out on the dirt.

❝ Gyah — ❞ Thor slapped Loki across the face, then leaned down closer again. ❝ You’re going to get us killed. ❞

Waging a finger, Loki then pointed into Thor’s chest. ❝ No, just you. Which, honestly, would makes things around here much simpler, don’t you think? Less of your kind to bother with. ❞

Pulling the dark haired brother by the collar, Thor throws down another punch into his cheek, grinding his teeth. ❝ I’m not a synth you imbecile. ❞

❝ Are you sure about that? Better check your memories, brute. I get mine done regularly now. Not a single loss — ❞

Letting Loki fall to his back, Thor took several heavy breathes to calm himself down before speaking again. ❝ I know who and what I am. ❞

Achingly moving to sit up, Loki wipes the blood from under his nose, then cracks another sharp smile. ❝ We certainly have been questioned as brothers, and I’m having my own doubts. ❞

❝ Maybe if you stopped burning out on chems, you’d remember we’re adopted. Or have you fired you brains enough to forget? ❞

❝ Oh sweet Thor, I haven’t forgotten anything. But have you? After all, you’ve been quite different since McDonough took office. Funny, what are you scared of big brother? That he’ll find you out — ❞

❝ Shut up! ❞ He kicks Loki again, his face twisting more. Thor had been praised somewhat in Diamond City, but he knew he had to keep his opinions to himself to keep it that way. He hated seeing the ghouls and undesirables chased out all to make a stupid point. Inciting fear into the masses wasn’t going to fix the problems in the Commonwealth. Now, Loki, ready to spread rumors of a false heritage only meant things would get worse for everyone… And Loki would love to see that happen. The chem addict lived for chaos and the more he delved deeper, the worse things would get. Sooner or later, it would come after him. That’s why Thor made these trips to this town of lowlifers. He was trying to save them both. He saw no good coming from his brother’s mental outbursts.

It wasn’t always this way with him. Both, as children, played together and set out on grand adventures. Best of friends and brothers by bond, taken in by the city to be raised and show the world that a good community could change a child’s future. And while Thor continued to shine through their efforts, Loki begun to see the dark side to everything.

Overhearing the new mayor’s idea of running undesirables out of the city, he begun banking on their fears and turning the paranoia into a profit. Only then when Thor saw this for himself did Loki end up joining the rest to be cast out to Goodneighbor by his actions. He was considered one of them and that didn’t sit well with the older blond.

For Loki, however, he saw it differently. The more into chems he got, the more he resented Thor for being the best of the two. Why Diamond City favored one over the other made the younger of the two lash out more and more. It soon became a realization that all his problems stemmed from one man. Once Thor was gone, then he would be seen as the most beloved son.

Instead, he was getting beaten to a bloody pulp on the streets by said brother.

❝ Hey — hey! Enough already! ❞ A woman’s voice, a different one from Irma’s scolding them earlier. Pushing at Thor’s shoulder, the brunette in a white lab coat tried breaking up the street fight and calling them out for the unwanted attention. Now going over to Loki, she pulls him up off the ground, lifting up his shirt to check the bruising on his ribs. ❝ This is immature. ❞

❝ And who the hell are you? ❞ Thor questioned, having enough meddling people for one day.

Before she answered, Loki shook himself off her, straightening himself up a bit and tugging down on his shirt. ❝ Dr. Foster — Pleasure again. ❞

She sighs, folding her arms and scolding the blond. ❝ Leave our clients alone! You could have completely wiped his memory without knowing. Those machines are measuring brain frequencies and if tampered with — ❞

❝ I don’t care. Stay out of our business, ❞ Thor snapped.

Taken aback, she smacks at his shoulder again. ❝ You should care. If nothing else, we’ve been recording his memories that might actually prove your — ❞

Squinting, Thor leans in a moment, then looks at Loki and back at her, speaking threateningly slow, ❝ Prove. My. What? ❞

Licking her top lip, she silences herself in the moment of passion of her work, pulling on the bottom of her lab coat sleeves. ❝ If you two can behave, I will tell you more inside. ❞

Glaring between the two of them, Thor kicks his foot into the ground, then begrudgingly moves back into the Memory Den. Loki, a smile still twisted, follows suit.

Back inside, Dr. Foster apologizes to Irma for the disruptive behavior and leads the two men into the basement lab where she was recording her readings. ❝ Dr. Amari is currently on leave and I’ve been assisting her in her projects for some time now. ❞ She bops and turns to force a hand out to shake Thor’s, in attempts to start over fresh. ❝ Dr. Jane Foster. ❞

Thor looks down at the hand, keeping his own still tucked under his chest. ❝ Thor. Odinson. Brother to this junkie. ❞

Holding a finger to his lips, Loki corrects, ❝ I prefer visionary. ❞

Jane rubs her hands together awkwardly, then goes through her files to sort her notes. ❝ Right then, um… There’s just a few things I wanted to share with you both… See, from Loki’s memories, we did find an anomaly in our findings. There’s just things in the timeline I was hoping to figure out. I have a feeling chems were the cause of the, er, visions, but I was hoping you, Thor, could fill in those blanks. ❞

With a curled lip, he looks at the doctor, confused. ❝ Why are you doing this? ❞

❝ Because, Mr. Odinson, if you are in fact a synth, this poses a great danger for you and your brother. While his ramblings might be considered nonsense, we can’t take too many precautionary measures to ensure that what he is saying is just nonsense or in fact, truth. ❞

Huffing a laugh, the blond looks at her in disbelief. ❝ And in the unlikely scenario that he’s right, why does this even benefit me from finding out? Have none of you thought to think I don’t want to know? I could lose everything. ❞

Jane pushes hair away from her forehead, giving a sad look. ❝ There are places for people like yourself, you know. I mean, if you are a synth. ❞

All these accusations of Thor being a synth or not had his mind reeling. He was never one to doubt, but whatever evidence is provided that he might be, the confirmation might have been too much to handle. Closing his eyes, he just waves his hands out, then walks from her. ❝ I won’t do it. He’s insane, and just leave it at that. ❞

Putting her foot down, Jane argues, ❝ If you don’t go through with locating a specific memory Thor, I’m afraid you will be fighting for you life out there based off little proof. If you want to have a clean slate, you should consider doing this procedure and getting it over with. For your sake, alone. ❞

His voice boomed, ❝ I will not have my mind tempered with! Leave me out of this madness, you hear? I am not a synth. My brother is an idiot and he lies constantly to get what he wants. ❞

A soft cackle was heard between the other two arguing. Loki, rubbing his eye with ice he found snooping in her freezer, pointed at his brother with a long, gangly finger and said, ❝ Then explain why you fraternize with Institute slaves over by the college ruins — ❞

❝ — What? ❞

❝ You know, brother — Why are you helping the white suits replace us good folk of the Commonwealth? ❞

Jane bit the inside of her cheek, looking up at Thor. ❝ The anomaly is a memory of you helping a synth to his feet. Then you handed him this — ❞ Turning to her file, she hands him and orange and white holotape with a lantern drawn on. ❝ We all know what the Railroad does. Who do you think does the memory wipes? Your brother might be a little... mentally unstable, Thor, but I’m trying to help you prove that you’re not dealing in enemy territory. Trust me. ❞

Swallowing hard at Loki, then turning to Dr. Foster, Thor narrows his eyes. ❝ You think I’m a synth because I helped one once? ❞

❝ Rogue agents don’t last long. Hell, even their own don’t all make it out. You’re a Diamond City guard, you’ll put all your friends at risk if you keep up with this stubborn attitude. ❞

He shakes his head again, then waves her off, heading towards the stairwell to leave the room. ❝ Get him some addictol, will you? You’re not sticking me in that machine. ❞

Not again.

He didn’t remember why he done it in the first place. And he’d rather keep it that way. But it was better than her finding out how far back his memories had been displaced. There was a reason for what he did, but if it was because of one thing, it wasn’t because he was a synthetically made man.

#*au #*avengers fallout #*my writing

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incensus-nix · 5 years

Text

The likelihood that four synths had made it out of the Institute was a miracle, let alone having them all remain alive and in hiding for the others to follow suit. The last, S7-04, emerged from the rubble and found a care package left at the location of his landing — the destination of all the synths that escaped during molecular relay. Only a shoebox size of necessities was left for him. A dirty wastelander’s jacket with pants and grey knit cap, to which he changed into quickly. The note left for him where the remaining coordinates he had to travel to and instructions of what to do with a set of matches.

Doing as it told, he set the remains of his Institute attire in flames and memorized the location, setting the folded paper aflame as well. If any caught the location, especially any of the coursers that had been searching for them, it was all for nothing. Smearing the ash across his skin and hair, dirtying himself up to look more the part, he headed due east, deeper into the city.

Unarmed and unknowing of the world, he tried to keep his head low and the sounds of him moving even lower, only scavenging what he needed to get by. Fortune favored him as he found a pistol and ammunition in an old settlement that must’ve been taken over by raiders, and since been abandoned once its resources had been diminished. Only the remains of the few that didn’t live to see the next day’s sunlight lay in heaps of bones. It was almost enough to turn himself back into his makers, but there was supposed to be a light in this world, no matter how terrible it had gotten.

Learning to navigate the area, he finally found the location he was meant to find per instructions. Two of the three synths that escaped previously had been waiting, seeming to have already looked as if the Commonwealth had consumed them. ❝ Where’s B3-10? ❞ the last escapee asked with a look of concern.

❝ He wanted to move on and find the Freedom Trail. While he reported back with finding where it lead, he also said he was going to volunteer for the memory wipe. He… he said he had to. That… he couldn’t live with the memories… ❞ Regret took over, all knowing that they should have made him wait until S7-04 emerged from the inside.

He swallowed hard, them closed his eyes. ❝ So, now what? ❞

❝ We follow the road he took… There are others that can help us. At least… That’s what he said. ❞

❝ What other choices do we have? ❞

❝ None. ❞

The three of them looked to one another, then S7-04 nodded as he pushed himself through the doorway to the outside. ❝ Lets go then. We don’t have anyone else to wait for. ❞

Nodding in agreement, the escape was all his idea. It was only fitting for him to lead them towards freedom. Once in the city ruins, there lay a torn prewar flag of stars and stripes. Bending down to pick it up, observing the giant star with the ring of smaller ones around it, he tilted his head to try and understand what it all meant. Somehow, it reminded him of the Institute’s symbol of the man inside the circle. But this one… It had a feeling of unity about it, and so he tied it around his waist and carried on. It felt right, carrying that weight.

❝ There, the red bricks! ❞ One of them pointed out, the linear trail began to show as they walked closer. It was a sign that they would soon reach their destiny, whether that was a good or bad thing was yet to be seen. But they had to trust it would be alright… And deep down, they all could feel it.

Some parts of the trail had been painted, as much of the brick had been eroded away over time. Here and there, they had to fire a bullet to protect themselves from feral ghouls and mongrel dogs that had attacked them. Having at least three of them fight them off had S7-04 wonder how it was even possibly that B3-10 made it out this way all on his own.

Hours passed and finally the trail lead to a church on the North End, the backdoor with a small lantern painted in white next to it. Running his fingers over it, S7-04 looked to the others and nodded, assured this was meant for them. ❝ We’re here. ❞

Upon opening the door, the trio walked in, keeping their guns at the ready. The one female, B6-09, held shock batons in both hands, finding comfort in close combat rather than shooting at a distance. She’d leave that with her partner for the greater about of time, S9-69, who found use of a crossbow and easy to forge arrows in it with scraps he found. It was enough to get them by until their new leader emerged.

With the trying to keep at quiet as possible, it still caught the attention of another, who had been shooting down ghouls with a laser rifle, the red beams burning holes into her enemies. ❝ Hold it right there — ❞ her voice rang out, slowly moving forward to the trio. She was outnumbered, easily, and now words were her only hope at this point. ❝ How did you find us? ❞

Us? There was only one of her… S7-04 spoke up. ❝ We were told to follow the Freedom Trail. It lead us here… ❞

She breathed out a sigh of relief, lowering her gun. ❝ You’re the others he spoke about. B3-10 — ❞

The trio all looked to each other in the same fashion, S9-69 even giving a wide smile in response. ❝ So, he made it after all? ❞

The women with long auburn hair nodded, the waved for them to follow her. ❝ C’mon. You need to meet the others. ❞ Leaning down to grab her dimly lit lantern, she turned the nob on the bottom to increase the flame and pushed on. ❝ Today is a good day for all of us. ❞

The four of them now moved through the catacombs, the bodies of previous feral ghouls laying across the ground and leaving a path of bones to the secret entrance. Upon reaching a wall, there were red wires all crudely attached to a wheel reading The Freedom Trail Boston. As the woman approached it, placing her lantern down and moving the wheel around with both hands, spelling out RAILROAD. At the final letter, she pushed it in, causing the wall to move and reveal a second pathway deeper into the catacombs.

❝ Welcome to the Railroad, my friends, ❞ she said, picking up her lantern again and leading them inside.

Down a flight of stairs, a young man in a worn blue padded jacket and a news cap ran up to her, then looked at the others. ❝ Scarlett, is this them? Desdemona will need to know — ❞

She nods, then pats the other on his shoulder. ❝ Why do you think I’ve bought them all with me? ❞ She winks, then waves for them all to keep following her.

Now entering a larger room, the three synths looked around in awe. It was nothing near clean as the Institute, but impressive how they were able to operate so well in such conditions. They were nothing short of grateful.

❝ What are your names? ❞ A women, wiser in age, walked up to them, arms folded as one hand reached up to inhale from her cigarette.

Speaking for them all, their leader stepped forward. ❝ I’m S7-04. This is B6-09 and S9-69. We… hoped you might know where B3-10 is? ❞

❝ Lets not get too ahead of yourselves, S7-04. We’ll have to give you new names, seeing that using your designated ones will give you away easily if you wander back out into the Commonwealth. ❞ Blowing out the smoke, she continued, ❝ I’m Desdemona, leader of the Railroad. The woman you met upstairs is Agent Scarlett. ❞

With a shrug, she buts in. ❝ Here, you can call me Wanda. ❞

❝ We prefer nicknames when operating, however. Keeps us and you safe. ❞

❝ Did B3-10 choose a new name? ❞ B6-09 asked, finding a place to put her batons now she was safe from any encounters from the outside world.

Desdemona nodded. ❝ James Buchanan Barnes Here, he went by Bucky. However… I wouldn’t go around saying that name out loud. ❞

❝ Why not? ❞ S7-04, feeling troubled by the news.

❝ After the memory wipe, he’s taken a much different path than we had hoped, ❞ her voice was grim and disappointed.

❝ And that is? ❞

She huffed out, placing her cigarette into the ashtray. ❝ He got picked up by a raider gang. Ruthless is his reputation and it would be best if you didn’t try looking for him. But — ❞ her voice resides back to calm and collected. ❝ That’s the choice you make with the memory wipe when you’re through with it. To live your life by your own choices. Bucky’s the example of what can happen, despite that not being what we wanted for anyone coming out from it. ❞

A hard swallow, S7-04 looks down. ❝ He was my… best friend. ❞

Desdemona sighs, ❝ And I’m sorry for that. The Commonwealth isn’t for the faint of heart. It’s up to you now how you want to live. ❞

Wanda rests a hand on his shoulder, bringing his eyes back up to hers. ❝ You can make the choice to help others. You can keep this memory and use it as a tool to help more like yourself. The memory wipe is optional. ❞

❝ I — I think I want to keep mine. They’re… important, ❞ he says back, making eye contact back with her, forcing a small smile.

❝ Yes — yes they are. ❞ Wanda wasn’t a fan of the wipe, but she would never force her opinions on the others. She could only imagine how terrible life would have been for them to constantly live in forced servitude and that some would rather not remember such things. But, she believed in the strength in overcoming those memories and use them as a fuel. She was happy to hear he was feeling the same.

❝ Well, Cap, looks like you and your crew better find new identities. Here, ❞ a new figure approached, a bald man in sunglasses, tossing a book S7-04’s way. ❝ Baby names popular in 1920. Gotta love those prewar weirdos need to publish a book of trending names. ❞

Making the catch easily, he looks to the other and raises a brow. ❝ Cap? ❞

❝ Yeah, you’re the Captain, aren’t ya? I like it, anyway. It’s already starting to stick. Captain. Cappy. Cap — ❞

The blond smirks, puling off his grey knit hat and starts to flip through the book. ❝ And you are? ❞

❝ Deacon. And that’s all you need to know. ❞ Pushing up his glasses, he slips away, saluting the other and picking up a beer from the table in the center of the room and walking into another.

Wanda speaks up, grinning. ❝ Don’t mind him. He’s actually one of our best agents, if you can get through the jokes and sarcasm. ❞

❝ Didn’t bother me much, ❞ S7-04 responds with a light laugh. Scrolling through some of the pages, none of the names seemed to interest him, handing the book over to S9-69 to have a look with B6-09.

After several hours getting navigated and acquainted with the rest of the Railroad, the synths began to settle in and for the first time in a long time, feeling the weight of the world lifted. Even if it was only for a few short moments, it was the freedom they had been searching for so long.

❝ So, we’ve got some ideas for names, Cap, what do you think? ❞ S9-69 approaches, having a seat in an open chair.

❝ Sure, lets here it — ❞ Cap as a nickname was already taking off with everyone there. He was getting used to itself, even.

❝ Alright, so we have myself, Samuel Thomas Wilson! Agent Falcon, though — Because, Tinker Tom says I’m pretty fly — I like it, ❞ he says with an easy laugh, though his cheeks a bit reddened. He wasn’t sure if that was stupid or not but he and Tinker Tom had hit it off quickly, both having similar interests in messing around with old tech. He felt the need to honor his new friend by adding it into his new name. ❝ I mean, I was thinkin’ Sam for short, too. Since, I mean, that might be easier. ❞

❝ That’s great! ❞ Wanda adds, interjecting herself into their conversation, crouching down on her feet to get closer to hear.

❝ Well, uh, thanks! And, well, B6, you tell them, ❞ Sam insists to the female, who was leaning into a brick post.

She smiles, flipping her hair over her shoulder. ❝ Barbara Morse — Though, Deacon gave me a hard time about it and has been calling me Bobbi instead. Which, I guess I don’t mind so much either after some debate about it. Sensitive, that one. Desdemona suggested I go by Mockingbird because of it. I like that even more. ❞

The rest had a laugh, seeing how when riled up, she had a knack for using words like fire to taunt her enemies. As much as Cap advised against it, there wasn’t a time he wasn’t amusedby it either.

❝ Which, by the way, we came up with a name for you, since you can’t make a decision yourself, ❞ Bobbi said, folding her arms. ❝ There was a solider that was pretty well known, according to the papers. Steven Grant Rogers. Hell, he even had a title ranking like yours, Captain. It was too perfect of a fit. What do you think, think you can go with Steve for the rest of your life. ❞

Giving his chin a rub, he had no reason to oppose it. And a war hero? Seemed too fitting, to say the least. ❝ Yeah, yeah Steve works for me. ❞

❝ Well, there we have it! Sam, Bobbi and Steve. I think you guys will be alright after all, ❞ Wanda says excitedly, approving them all of their name choices. ❝ Now, it’s been almost too exciting of a day. I think we all better call it a night, hm? ❞

While Sam and Bobbi agreed that they needed time to recuperate, Steve only remained awake and sitting alone in the chair, holding onto a can of purified water as his mind swam over the details of the journey.

❝ Better give it a rest, Cap. ❞ It was Deacon, finding a knack for showing up in a middle of important thoughts.

❝ I need to know where B3-10 — Er, Bucky, is. ❞

❝ Not a good idea, trust me on this one, pal. ❞

❝ He needs our help. I’m sure we could — ❞

Deacon interrupts, putting out a finger. ❝ Bad. Idea. If he’s gone with the raider lifestyle, you bet he’s a lost cause. I wouldn’t think about it anymore past tonight. Save yourself of the worry. ❞

Steve shook his head. ❝ I don’t think I can do that. ❞

Tight lipped, Deacon shrugged, then gave the synth a few pats on his shoulder. ❝ Then you’re in for a long life of disappointment. Get some sleep. ❞

It wasn’t going to be possible, not this night, anyway. He wasn’t giving up yet. Even with the mind wipe, there had to be a spark of the synth that Steve once knew. And he was willing to give up everything to find out.

#*au #*avengers fallout #*my writing

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