Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 13: Prydwen Heist

Danse knew this wouldn't end well. He just knew it. So why was he doing this? That was a very good question. He should listen to his rational self more often.

Unfortunately, his rational self was not taking charge for the foreseeable future.

The red signal smoke roiled into the sky, drawing in the vertibird like a predator to blood. The Paladin blew out a lengthy breath and glanced around his armor's shoulder at Kelly and Deacon, standing there with ridiculous grins painted on their faces. Deacon had procured quite the collection of Brotherhood paraphernalia in his line of work, and both were aptly disguised as Field Scribes, complete with headgear and combat goggles to hide their faces. They both gave him the thumbs up. He sighed.

How on earth did Kelly manage to talk him into this?

She had also managed to talk the Minutemen into providing support for the raid, tempting them with those synth relay grenades. With just a handful, they were capable of wreaking some serious havoc when deploying synth units behind enemy lines, and had the potential to get them through a multitude of situations. With the raid now a certainty, he felt compelled to do his part to increase their odds. But it was more than that. Not only was Kelly just very, very persuasive, but she had a powerful pull on him.

The flight to the Prydwen was awkwardly silent, more so than usual. By some stroke of bad luck, Lancer-Knight Duval, who had been under Danse's command during the Rad Land op, just happened to be the pilot to pick them up. If Kelly even spoke a single word, he would recognize her immediately. The two thieves sat in the troop hold while Danse stood with a hand on the overhead support, praying that Duval wouldn't be in a good enough mood to start up small-talk and put them all at risk of discovery.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

God damn it. Danse felt his sweat glands kick into action. "Go ahead."

"Thank you, sir. I just wanted to give you a heads-up, is all," Duval spoke hesitantly. "Our squadron was given orders to keep a vigilant eye for any signs of Knight Harper on the ground, as well as you, sir. Apparently she never reported back to the Prydwen when due, and she was last seen with you at the Cambridge Police Station. I want to make it clear that I'm not accusing you of anything, sir. You're the finest officer I've ever served under, and I don't doubt your allegiance for a second. But I overheard Elder Maxson speaking with Captain Kells, not that I was eavesdropping, sir, but... well, he wasn't exactly quiet..."

Danse tapped his finger impatiently against the metal hull. "Is this going somewhere, Duval?"

"Sorry, sir," the Lancer-Knight stammered. "I just meant to warn you that the Elder sounded... well he sounded like he didn't trust you, sir. I thought you should know what to expect..."

He should have expected this. Considering his choices lately, it was no surprise that Maxson had his suspicions. And his suspicions were valid. Danse shifted his weight nervously. What the hell was he doing? He was willingly assisting in a crime against the Brotherhood, an accessory to the theft of a valuable resource. He was putting his entire career, no, his entire life on the line. If Kelly and Deacon were discovered, everything was over. And Kelly... she would be executed.

Doubts swirled around his head, taunting his nerve, judging his allegiance. Almost against his will, he glanced at Kelly. She was watching him intently, her eyes screened by her goggles, but the set of her features spoke of all her guilt. He averted his gaze. He wouldn't place the blame on her, he was fully capable of making his own choices and responsible for the decisions that had led him to this point, but he knew that ever since she walked into his life, she had changed him. Every day he spent with her was changing him.