Crossfire - Fallout 4 - [R J MacCready x Sole Survivor]

Chapter 5

It's been a week since the Gunners confronted Sanctuary, and Dawn has decided to leave her settlement behind to run some of her promised errands out in the wasteland. With all of the small tasks now completed, Dawn has taken upon herself the quest to trek back to the C.I.T. ruins, MacCready as her chosen companion for this particular stint. As days went passed, he found that his patience has constantly been wearing thin.

The end of the week drew to a close, and Dawn realised that with her shortage of caps, she has resorted to scavenging some buildings within the partially demolished buildings around this new dilapidated Boston. MacCready previously barked his thoughts about her junk hoarding, but she carried on regardless.

After all, she has a salary to pay.

"Boss!" He called. Her back was turned from him as she was busily rummaging away in an old store. "C'mon, it's been hours. Let's go."

She ignored him. As usual.

No, he thought, he's fed up of being ignored.

"For the love of..." He cut himself off before he would say something regrettable, then stomped up to her to see what junk she's found this time.

MacCready stared at the object in Dawn's hand.

It was a blue telephone, crusted with dirt and grime, the plastic casing cracked from where it was previously dropped. The telephone handle was missing, the frayed wires that sprouted from the bottom of the main body was the only evidence that a receiver had ever existed, and numerus holes were dotted on the dial where the button's used to be. He stared at the plastic monstrosity for a little longer before he slowly looked up at Dawn, whom was looking at him expectantly.

"What?" She asked as she raised an encouraging brow.

MacCready's only reaction was to stare at the broken telephone once more, then promptly walk away.

"H-hey!" She stammered, shoulders slumping as she tripped up to him. "What's with the face?"

He gave her an incredulous glance as he stopped mid-step. "Because you're crazy," he pointed an accusing finger at the phone. "Who the hell are you going to call on that damn thing? A shrink?"

An indignant huff slipped from her lips as she pouted, an action that irritated MacCready so much he walked off without waiting for her. Dawn shoved the destroyed telephone into her pack - which was already bulging from other dilapidated pre-war relics - and then stomped up beside him. His foul mood was apparent from his constant scowling, and over the past week alone he has berated her about everything she did, no matter how big or small the issue.

"Do you have to stomp around like that?" Another offhand remark was called from over his shoulder. "You're gonna push your foot into a pothole." He strode faster to get some distance away from her. "Then you'll break your ankle or something..."

Dawn huffed again at his words, but heeded them and stepped carefully at the rubble beneath her boots. "Like you care if I break my ankle or not," she spat as she hoisted her pack further up her shoulder. He only looked back to shoot her another scowl.

"You're right," he said, "I don't care. If I had to choose between carrying you or that bag full of junk, I'd choose the junk."

Her eyes trailed down to look at the floor, her arms swinging loosely as she trudged up to follow him. "It's not junk..." She lamented as she weakly defended the hoard on her back.

MacCready looked up to the sky again, and it took every inch of willpower within him to refrain from screaming like a mad man. A strangled growl gurgled from his throat instead, and with his moment of rage now over, he expelled the rest of his frustration by booting an aluminium can by his feet. He took in a few deep breaths, promised to himself to remain calm, and pulled out a box of cigarettes from his pocket.