Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 38: With Fire We Play

Their vertibird glided over the small gulf between the Brotherhood and Minutemen HQ's with a smooth bearing under Danse's hand. Although not officially established within Lancer ranks, Maxson had suggested he be their pilot for the short trip, and the two men had shared an intimate grin at the prospect.

Kelly had watched their almost boyish trade-off from the sidelines, guessing it was some type of nostalgic inside-reminder to that story Danse still owed her of the two dabbling in the Outcast alliance. It was bizarre seeing them at ease around each other like that, even for a snippet of a moment. They must be closer than she first thought, and she made a mental note to keep a closer eye on them if the three of them were going to be a triad of war.

She couldn't have them both gunning against her.

Kelly stood in the troop hold overlooking the radioactive sea as it heaved below, choppy waves reflecting the morning sun. Salty mist infused with the familiar scent of wilderness filled her nose, and she welcomed it, breathing in deeply. It was refreshing to be off the Prydwen and back out in the Wastes.

The Elder stood on the opposite flank of the vertibird adopting the same ritual, though his tension was palpable across the distance between them. He was not happy about this.

...and it made her very, very happy.

The only thing to frostbite Kelly's happiness on this little trip was the woman in power armor looming behind them both. Star Paladin Groves. Elder Maxson's stalwart bodyguard. Tendrils of her icy blonde hair rebelled from her rigid top-knot and lashed across her face in the wind. It was the only movement over a sullen backdrop of features as she stared Kelly down unblinkingly.

Kelly smiled pleasantly at her and flicked her chin up in greeting.

Groves did not blink. The bitch.

As Danse guided the vertibird into a low prowl around the Minutemen Castle for an appropriate LZ, Minutemen scurried about like army ants, taking up defensive positions and manning their artillery. Kelly had radioed in to forewarn of their appearance under 'political means' but she couldn't blame them for taking every precaution against the Brotherhood.

Did they still trust her?

"Alright, bringing her down," Danse alerted them as their altitude dropped to second him. The twin rotors buffeted off the dusty gravel and whipped up at the passengers as they dismounted, though all four were battle-hardened and accustomed to such minor inconvenience, eyes squinting through the sting of debris. They manoeuvred around to stand before the nose of the aircraft in preparation of the Minutemen greeting, Groves striding to her Elder's forward flank with rifle in a taut cradle at her chest, casting out a clear warning to all. Danse had attached himself protectively to Kelly's left, one subtle step ahead of her, though he wielded no rifle to alienate the militia. Why he was assuming such a protective guard against the Minutemen, her people, she had no idea. Maybe just his typical hypervigilance. On her right, Maxson himself looked on edge, though Kelly knew it wasn't because he felt threatened by the Minutemen.

Through the collapsed fortress wall marched Ronnie Shaw with two men on her flanks, all three of them clad in traditional Minutemen attire, from the dusters to the rawhide hats. Kelly strode forward to bridge the remainder of the gap, wearing what she hoped was a cordial smile.

"General," Ronnie greeted, a fissure of wariness in her tone. She regarded Kelly with a once-over, maybe checking for evidence that the Brotherhood had held her against her will and beat intel from her. Or, maybe checking for a tattoo of a sword and gears to symbolize her new allegiance. Kelly had adorned her stitched and patched vault suit to appear neutral for that very reason.