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“I imagine Dad creating Project Purity is only going to save my ass so many times in my life. My short, short life…”

Wesley reflected on just how long that life would last, peering a somewhat thousand yard stare past the new recruit. Or multiple recruits. Wes staggered a little before reaching out for the wall to steady himself. The now snuffed out cigarette still between soot covered fingers, his clothes dark with blow back from the explosion as well. He coughed, and squinted his eyes shut as even small movements shook plaster and centuries old paint from his hair.

“I can’t run. I can’t see straight…”

He made the smart decision of putting his hand through his hair and shaking the plaster free instead of any attempt to shake his head. He had double vision and a ringing in his ears. He’d probably be okay but… Yeah, that was dumb and careless. Ever since he escaped those damn Hillbilly nightmares of genetics and that… cult, he’d been reckless, impulsive, moody. Not like himself. But he hadn’t been like himself since leaving the Vault.

His vision righted itself a bit more and Wesley recognized the dude he’d found in the simulation. Jamie. He’d taken a shine to the poor son of a bitch. Maybe mostly on account of his name, but largely because he’d been stuck in a nightmare situation for 200 years and suddenly found himself an orphan.

“Jay.” Wes looked a little relieved, blinking hard, “Save yourself. The explosive compound is obviously a success, but you’re young. You still have your career to think about.”

“Jamie.”

It’s admittedly a little curt, but he’s still in a very STRANGE headspace as of late. With everything, it’s hard to imagine still that this new reality. He figures maybe it’s his own fault that everything ended up turning out the way it did. He leans forward a little, rubbing the back of his neck for a second before puffing out a bit of air.

“There’s not much to save I think. This is still a wasteland you know.”

Perhaps it’s a little bit of a strange way to look at it, but as far as he’s concerned the reality of this new world order was that there was no REAL chance at true happiness. Not that the old world offered it, but everything is in ruins now. It’s hard to imagine it any other way. He exhales heavily, rising to his feet before eyeing the other man with hands on his hips and shaking his head.

“You overreact. I’ve heard how people speak about you around here. They’re calling you some sort of wasteland savior, I doubt there’s much you could do that would ruin your chances at staying happy around here.”

Happy was perhaps a RELATIVE term, but he didn’t really think much into it. Most people who were from the pre-war didn’t really survive, so he suspects “his kind” aren’t likely to find a place here, but at least for him he thinks perhaps he might have more luck.

There’s a boy no older than fifteen leaning against the shoulder of his mother; her own arm wrapped tight around him as they stare on at the shrinking view of Nuka World. For a while, Quinn is captivated in the sight, frozen and wanting. It feels like envy, but it also feels like hope. Hope for them. A new chance to begin again.

Her memories drift to Shaun. Not the young one, the one forced to pretend. The one whose guilt lances her like a hot bullet. No, the original one. Hers. Old, and greying, and lifeless; stretched out in his bed, his hand gone limp in hers. But then, Jamie speaks, and the spell breaks, and she looks back at him to hear his answer.

Same place you did. 

❝If that’s the case, I get it.❞ She says. And then, adding, ❝Get why you don’t want to talk about it, I mean.❞

The tram begins to pull into the station. Quinn stands, readying her rifle just in case. It looks clear, until her eyes land on the small glass office and sees two Raiders. Pack, judging from the colors. Shit. 

❝Jamie. With me. Just you – we need to talk with them.❞ She points out. They’re already standing, eyeing the tram warily, and noting all the people crammed inside. ❝Now. Before they do anything.❞  

He’s fixated on her for a second, clearing his throat. It’s the BEAUTY of having her as General. They PERHAPS might not always see eye to eye, but if nothing else, there’s a lot they have in common which makes communicating with her EASY. He can understand her apprehension, so perhaps it’s RIGHT to explain himself, so when she speaks he clears his throat.

“...I’ll elaborate back at HQ. This...now is not really the best time.”

He leaves it vague, but makes the intent clear enough. If nothing else, he suspects that his HONESTY would be preferable. He’s a colonel in this little coalition, and if she couldn’t at the very least trust who he was as a man then they’d undoubtedly have problems in the long run. He respected her enough to offer her the truth above all else. 

It’s not until she tenses up again, the statement she makes making his blood run cold as he returns to his otherwise STONE demeanor. The one he’s known for. ENFORCER OF THE MINUTEMEN. When she speaks the order he does so with a nod.

“Understood General. I’m at your back.”

He rises, slowly as not to alarm anyone on the tram. Admittedly he’s smarter than to think that if they make sudden moves it won’t cause panic. So he speaks calmly to the Lancer nearest to him, gently speaking the order into their ear before nodding at Quinn.

“I’ll follow your lead, General.”

           ‘ there’s an easy fix for that, it’s called using the venom on them before they can get a hand on it. ‘ her hand moved to the brahmin waiting patiently for her to guide it to it’s next stop where it could nap and feed, opening one of the trunks and pulling out an array of vials filled with venom. most of it could only be crafted with things from the mojave, but if the trade lines worked out as well as she hoped, they’d be able to get a relatively steady supply. ‘ as for food, we’ve got hardy crops, but they need sun and heat. bighorners are good to raise for meat and hide, considering they’re too useless for carrying things. ‘

             lidia took a moment to catch her breath, pushing her hair from her forehead. she’d need a nap before she got into all of that. ‘ i’ll take whatever i can get. though i heard no one around here knows how to make a good cocktail. ‘

“I’m sure we can make things work. If there’s one thing that can be consistently said about the people of the Commonwealth, it’s that they’re hardy and they’re not known for giving up without a fight first.”

He leans back for a moment to study the map laid out before him, contemplating just how much this new group will shift the dynamic of the Commonwealth’s factions. Granted it’s less out of concern and more out of curiosity given the fact that the Minutemen had helped establish SOME form of peace.

If he’d been on more stable ground Devil probably would’ve been able to dodge, or at least catch himself before he toppled over. But he was waist deep in sludge and water, and so he went headfirst into the gunk with a garbled cry of protest.

It looked like he was occupied trying to dig himself out for a few moments so Jamie could relish his victory… but the Devil was fast. Fast, and stronger than he ought to be. 

With a growl of anger he managed to get a hold of Jamie before he even touched the gates, a rough tackle and spin that sent him flying into the filthy water instead. Granted Devil sort of flew along with him, but it was worth it to see the smug look on the man’s face washed away with grime.

“How do you like it, huh-?” Instead of the smooth, almost charming tone Devil usually took, this one was angry– finally fed up with his treatment. An arm tried to wrap under Jamie’s to keep a hold of him while he was dunked in the water. “Sit there on your fucking throne treating me like I’m the only one with a fucking past–” 

GRAVE AND ENRAGED AS HE IS, he keeps a calm demeanor on his face, having managed to protect the book he’d been carrying from the same fate he does, Jamie leers death upon the man before him, COLD ENOUGH to slice through even the most hardy of souls as he Jamie takes grip of Devil’s arm, vice-like as he maneuvers and rises from the sludge like some sort of aquatic phoenix before taking hold of Devil’s throat with his free hand, CLAMPING DOWN HARD and staring him square in the eye.

JAW stone and tight as he all but snarls at the man, dragging him from the water and throwing him upon the shore before tugging off his coat and gently resting it over one of the outstretched pipes of the water filter. Turning his piercing stare to Devil as he grunts quietly at the disgusting filth that now coated his clothes.

“What exactly would you expect of me hm? You want a pat on the back and a ‘GOOD JOB’? You want praise for doing the simple task of being a decent human being? Well I’ve got news for you, that’s not how this works.”

The coldness of his tone is indicative of a man lacking any patience now for the PLAYFULNESS & tantrum-like behavior he’s being faced with. He had far more to worry about than the FEELINGS of a man who has all but been a thorn in his side.

“Make no mistake I am FULLY aware of the origins that I come from, but UNLIKE you I don’t throw my weight around expecting people to forgive me because I turned over a new leaf. I fought like a DOG to earn the right to be trusted by these people. I fought like a DOG to earn my station in this organization, and never once did I ask or EXPECT anyone to pat me on the back. You know why? Because that’s NOT why I’m here. If you want hand holding, find someone else. I’m not your mother. You are an adult, and despite what you might think I actually COMMEND your efforts to be better, but that doesn’t excuse your behavior. How about considering an OUNCE of humility. We all have to do things that make us uncomfortable, but the strongest of us do them ANYWAY.”

He takes one step forward, jaw even tighter now as he feels himself boil just a little at how AGGRAVATED he is.

“This...this guilt you’re having or you SEEM to have. Don’t take it out on ME because you think I’m the one holding it over you. I’m not. And believe me when I say I don’t need YOU to remind me that I’ve done things I’m not proud of.”

He exhales heavily, staring intently at him, piercing icy stare cast his way before he draws in a deep BREATH, he leans back, adjusting his vest and tie before wiping some muck from his face.