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“How do you manage it, Hancock?” The ghoul's really the only one he can think of, who'd have any sort of advice for this sort of thing. “Being a leader, I mean. Goodneighbor, it can't be easy, right? I've been there, it's sort of... well, no offense, but a shithole.” Daniel gives him a slight shrug. It's not said with an insulting tone or anything, but it's the truth as he sees it – Goodneighbor was filled with crime, chems, sex, everything an apocalyptic wasteland needs to thrive on.

BOSTON DIPS INTO A CHILL, and it lingers in the bones as the two travel. There’s a frenetic energy in Cait as even she has deigned to wear layers to buffer the worst of it. They’d traveled miles following the ticker on her Pip-Boy, marching through cold slush to descend upon the chaos, and it’s here that the sight violence is almost WELCOMED. Cait is a hornet in an puffy coat, buzzing and furious at an unnamed and unbeatable enemy. In this, her rage has a target. In this, the adrenaline can shake off the cold and replace it with something more scalding.

Quinn lets her do it. Picks the targets off from afar, and watches her companion closely. It’s only when a path opens up to the home that they make a beeline through. They have only seconds before the Raiders replenish.

“Hey – Daniel, are you in there?” Quinn calls out. She can already hear Cait mumbling under her breath in disdain of it all. “We got your distress call.”

Cait stares her dead in the eyes. It’s here that Quinn sighs, before tacking on, “The Minutemen’s here to help.”

The disapproval rolls from Cait’s shoulders. She can’t even blame her for it, either.

There wasn't a single fucking thing about the whole situation that he didn't hate. The cold, the adrenaline, having to call for the Minutemen – it all sucked. Hell, even watching the two Minutemen cut a path through the raiders sucked.

Why the Hell couldn't he do that?

In response to call, the gate opens long enough for the two to enter. It's... kind of a shithole. Now, the walls protecting it are great – metal from cars make up the bulk of them, but everything else is pretty bad. A meager farm, suffering from the cold and neglect; a home, build on to the platform on which the tower resides, looks like it could collapse at any moment. 

 “Took you long enough,” it's not meant to sound ungrateful.

It probably does.

❛  no  one  ever  does,  ❜  alex remarks with a laugh, truth be told it wasn’t her hideout so much as it was abner’s. he gave her a room, a workshop, and she built herself a shopfront loaded with turrets for protection. her brow raises as he looks to the giant cannon-esque object.           ❛  the  junk  jet,  boner  bomb,  dildo  delinquent.  basically,  if  you  want  someone’s  face   literally  fucked  you  use  that  thing.  i  made  it  as  a  gag  then  got  attached.  there’s  tons  of ruined  adult  entertainment  stores  in  vegas. made  it  easy.  ❜

“Wow.” Brief, and to the point. But, well – the junk jet he could understand, didn't surprise him too much. Boner bomb, dildo delinquent – now those, those sure were something special. If those didn't shock him, the idea of Vegas still being around sure did.They both shocked him.

Gunshots crack and echo, bullets ping meaninglessly against metal – and one man sits angrily in his home. This was the second time that week, and it was always the same. Raiders from that fucking radar station. Protect the people at a minute's notice, they said! Just radio it in, we'll come help, they said!

“He's an idealist. I can respect that. But I need him to understand that things will never be good. They weren't great before the bombs fell, and they sure as shit won't be good now.”

Daniel owes a lot to Garvey, he'd do a lot for the man. There's a lot of respect there, really, no matter how much Garvey bothers him about this settlement, or that settlement, he'll help, no matter how much he complains. Hell, Preston made him leader of the Minutemen. He put Daniel there, and now, well. Now Daniel's going to fulfill the responsibility Preston gave him.

“It's a rough life, I understand. I'm – we're doing our God damn best here, alright? You jackasses need to pull your own fucking weight, the Minutemen can't solve all your issues. We're not the police, we're a peace keeping force occupying a warzone. Preston's constantly on my ass about this settlement, or that settlement – I can't do it all. Help yourselves. Become self-sufficient, we're here to help, but we aren't the end all, be all.”

It's not a position Daniel wants to be in, really. He doesn't want to be a leader, yet, he is one. He doesn't want people to rely on him, he's failed to protect enough people as is. Ideally, in his eyes, the Minutemen would be a peacekeeping force – they shouldn't solve every issue that arises, only the major ones. They should patrol the Commonwealth, dealing with issues as they arise, but they're too few. Now, this isn't to say he won't help whoever he can, just that he'll do so reluctantly. In a perfect world, his Minutemen would become a standing army.

GENERAL KONSTANTINOU, COMMONWEALTH MINUTEMEN.