#brandis

I wanted to travel as far as possible the first day, resulting in an exhausted Cait and I seeking shelter at Bunker Hill late at night. They had a bed available, which Cait insisted I take this time, while she took the bedroll on the floor.

“You’re out of psycho,” I stated.

“I’m out of everythin’,” she grumbled.

“Withdrawal is hellish, but it’s better than dying.” She rolled her eyes. I pressed, “Even if Mr. Lonegan hadn’t mentioned your habit of ‘pumping junk into your arm,’ your scars tell more than enough.”

“What’s it matter to you as long as I’m doin’ my job?” she challenged.

“You won’t be able to continue doing your job if you don’t stop.”

“Oh, and I suppose you’d know,” she sneered. “Here I thought you were a detective, not a doctor.”

“No,” I removed the bracer on my left arm and rolled up my shirtsleeve, “I’m simply the voice of experience.”

I leaned over, the lantern light between us illuminating my skin. She stared at the old needle marks, the remaining scars along the veins in my arm for a long moment, her eyes hard, mouth tight. I rolled down my sleeve, and laid down to sleep. The lantern went out, and all was silent.

In the morning, I worried I’d gone too far. I had no experience discussing addiction with another addict. My own recoveries were all instigated by people who loved me, not a practical stranger trying to give anecdotes of his own experiences. So neither of us spoke as we continued along the river down to Boston Airport. We avoided the East City Downs, and were surprised to find a pack of ferals dead further up ahead.

“Someone’s been busy,” Cait muttered, the first words she’d said to me all day.

I nodded, “The piles of ashes and precision required for some of these shots makes me think someone trained with a laser weapon was responsible.”

“Gunners?”

“This isn’t quite their territory. The Brotherhood of Steel is more likely, especially as we’re approaching their base of operations.”

“What’s your business with these toy soldiers, anyway? Why does the guy in charge of them want to start a war with you?”

“He doesn’t.”

“Oh Christ, don’t tell me you believe that shite.”

I couldn’t. I hoped… but I honestly didn’t know. “The Minutemen protect everyone in the Commonwealth, be they human, ghoul, or synth. The Brotherhood take issue with that policy.”

Her eyes widened. “Synths. The machines that pretend to be people, that replace them?”

“The Institute is gone; all the synths want is to live in peace.”

“And you believe them?”

“It isn’t their fault they were made.”

She shuddered, “Just the idea gives me the shivers. How can you trust a thing that pretends to be somethin’ it’s not?”

“Some synths don’t even know they’re synths. Some do, and choose to hide that fact to keep themselves safe.”

Cait shook her head, unconvinced, “I wouldn’t waste my trust on ‘em.”

“Would you trust anyone?”

“Trustin’ you so far, ain’t I?” she snapped.

I had to concede, “That’s true.” And again, nothing more was said between us. I don’t know how to talk to this woman.

It was well into the night when we found Danse and Preston waiting two blocks down from the airport entrance. “Gentlemen,” I said, giving them plenty of time to see it was me approaching in the dark, not an enemy. The headlamp from Danse’s helmet suddenly illuminated me. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”

“We got here a couple hours ago, General,” Preston said. He looked at Cait, “Who’s this?”

“This is Cait, former cage-fighter turned bodyguard. Cait, Colonel Preston Garvey and the Lieutenant Colonel of the Minutemen.” She was unimpressed and bored, but didn’t make any comment. “Thank you for joining me, both of you.”

“You nearly had a mutiny on your hands,” Danse said.

“Don’t exaggerate,” Preston frowned. “I’ll follow your orders, sir, but I don’t like it this time. I still think this is a dangerous idea.”

I nodded, “I understand, but as much as Maxson enjoys trying to intimidate me, I need to know what he has planned. Any information I can glean during this meeting will be helpful, and the best way to keep him amicable and willing to talk is to humor his demands.”

Preston sighed, “I’ll follow your lead. Let’s get this over with.”

“Maxson is probably awake,” Danse said, “but there’s a chance he’s retired for the night.”

“Maxson insisted this was urgent,” I said, “and here we are. We wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

I asked Cait to wait, hidden, and keep an eye out for trouble. If we didn’t return in an hour, she was to go to Nordhagen settlement on the east side of the peninsula and alert Radio Freedom.

“Sure you wanna trust me with that?” she grumbled.

“Yes,” I said, and I meant it. “You’re quick, you can hide, your pain tolerance is impressively unhealthy, and I have no doubt you’ll obliterate any obstacle in your way.”

She rolled her eyes, but I think she might have been pleased. “If this is your version of flirtin’, no wonder you’re datin’ a machine. Stop gabbin’ and get in there, I’ll watch for you.”

We approached the airport. “Former cage-fighter, General?” Preston asked.

“Combat Zone.”

Preston frowned. “That doesn’t explain… oh. Oh hell no, man, you hired a Combat Zone fighter to be your bodyguard?”

“The rest of the clientele having been killed, she was out of a job. Her manager gave me her contract.”

“What?” He shook his head, “You know what, tell me later.”

We were stopped at the entrance by the armored Knight on guard duty. “I have an invitation from Elder Maxson,” I said.

The Knight nodded, “I have orders to escort you and your men. Follow me.” We followed. “Never seen a complete X-01 functional before,” the Knight commented. “Give you any trouble?”

“No,” Danse said, unwilling to say more for fear of recognition, but not wanting to be rude.

Preston saved him. “Holy shit,” he breathed. We were passing Liberty Prime.

The Knight chuckled, “Yeah, I said that, too, the first time I saw him. Good thing robots can’t get bored.”

We reached the transport vertibird, and were taken up to the Prydwen. Preston gazed down off the edge a moment as we crossed the walkway, and quickly focused on facing forward. The Knight on guard on the ship was not as amiable as the one on the ground had been.

“Elder Maxson is expecting us.”

“Elder Maxson is busy. You’ll have to wait.”

“Then we will wait inside.” A cold wind blew, “Your Elder called this meeting, not us, and now you are delaying us. If this is on his order, then it is insulting, and if this is of your own initiative then you are being insubordinate.”

The Knight opened the door, “Follow me.”

“I know the way.”

“That doesn’t matter.” We were taken to the observation deck, and the Knight stood guard at the entrance.

“Shouldn’t someone alert the Elder to our arrival?” I asked him.

“You can’t be left unsupervised.”

“Wondered if I’d ever see you again,” a voice said from behind him.

All three of us stared at the grey-haired man in a black Brotherhood of Steel uniform. “Paladin Brandis?” Preston asked, surprised.

Brandis chuckled, “I clean up well enough. Going to be a while before I get back to my old routine, though. Cade won't clear me for duty yet. To think he's giving me orders, now.”

“Paladin,” the Knight began, and Brandis sighed.

“You’ll find Maxson with Proctor Teegan. I’ll keep an eye on these three, Knight.”

“Sir—”

“I may not be cleared for active duty, Knight, but I still outrank you.”

The Knight nodded once and hurried up to the next deck. Brandis shook his head, “He’s recently promoted. I admit, I'm worried about these recruits. Too young, too green. Not like the Initiates back in my day.” He spoke quietly to Preston, cognizant of the open door and ship’s bridge below us, “Listen. I didn't have a chance to thank you properly before. I want you to have my old gun. It kept me alive all those years, maybe it can do the same for you. It's not exactly regulation-issue, for either of us, but I hope it serves you as well as it served me.” He handed Preston a modified laser pistol.

“That's not necessary,” Preston tried to politely refuse, but Brandis just smiled.

“I understand our organizations aren’t exactly… friendly, at the moment. However, I insist. I’ll be honest; I’m not sure I still have a place here. I’ve been away for too long. But I’m going to give it time. I owe it to my team. You gave me another chance, and saved my skin in more ways than one. So, I want you to have this. I’ve got all the memories I need of that time, and it’s the least I can do to thank you.”

Preston sighed and took the gun, securing it under his duster. “Thank you. It really wasn’t anything special. Helping people who need it is what we do.”

“Good. Now, from what I understand, the Minutemen also help ghouls and synths.”

“That’s right. You want this back?”

Brandis snorted, amused. “No. I meant every word of what I said.” He turned his attention to me, “And you’re General Holmes. We… met?”

I nodded, “I tried to convince you to return to the Brotherhood before my men met you. I’m glad to see they succeeded where I failed.”

“Thank you for trying,” he said, sincere. “I understand you were quite the Initiate. Promoted all the way to Paladin in only a matter of months, and then abandoned the Brotherhood. Lots of people seem to think the reason you left is because you were forced to kill Danse. Everyone else thinks you were secretly a synth-sympathizer from the start. Sometimes you’re an Institute operative working with the synth, sometimes you’re a Railroad agent, the story gets more colorful each time someone tells it.”

“The Brotherhood of Steel and I shared a common goal; the destruction of the Institute. When I saw first-hand how little they value the life of those who have been faithful, when Danse was given no chance at explanation, no investigation into intent, only immediate and bitter execution, I found I couldn’t stomach any further association. It is one of my deepest regrets that the giant machine of death and destruction standing in the airport is there because of Danse and I.”

Brandis, of sane mind, is observant. He glanced at the man in power armor with the Minutemen symbol on his chest. “You used us. Used Danse.”

“Initially. I discovered, I admit to my surprise, that Paladin Danse was a good man under all that armor. I never felt like more of a fraud than when I was in his company. He was everything a good soldier should strive to be, and the Brotherhood threw him away.”

Something creaked overhead, causing Brandis to glance up with a shake of his head, “Never did like this rustbucket,” he muttered. “A fine ship, but put me in the field any day.” A glance over his shoulder alerted him to Maxson’s imminent arrival. He spoke clearly, louder than he had been before, “Well, I wanted to say thank you, and I have. I wouldn’t be here without your help. I would hate to put our respective loyalties against each other.”

“So would I, Paladin,” I shook his hand. “So would I.”

Brandis and Maxson greeted each other as they passed in the hall, Maxson pausing to ask how Brandis was recovering. Brandis appreciated the concern, and implied he was frustrated with Knight-Captain Cade's caution. Maxson nodded, said something encouraging, and Brandis continued back up to the main deck. Maxson's pleasant expression vanished as he stepped onto his observation deck. "General Holmes. I understand your men are responsible for the return of my Paladin."

I hadn't expected that. "Yes."

He looked at them, "Thank you." I believe he actually meant it. Before anyone could respond, he turned his attention back to me, "And thank you for coming, even if your timing could have been better."

"We are both busy men, Elder Maxson, and your invitation made this meeting sound urgent. I thought it best to arrive as quickly as possible regardless of minor inconveniences such as the time of day."

"So I see. Since we are, as you said, both busy men, I’ll skip further formality. I do not want to go to war with the Minutemen. You make it remarkably difficult to prevent that eventuality."

"I appreciate you being candid. I assure you, war is the last thing I want as well. However, I must stand by what I believe to be right and just."

"Unfortunately, what you consider to be 'right and just' is anathema to the Brotherhood. Synths are machines."

"They are people who happen to have been built instead of born."

"Enough of this. We agree any hostilities between Brotherhood and Minutemen would be detrimental to each. The Minutemen have the firepower to destroy the Prydwen, and the Brotherhood have Liberty Prime. You were dismissed from the Brotherhood for your support of Minutemen policy regarding synths and your choice of… living companion, though I doubt you noticed."

"On the contrary, that message was a lovely Boxing Day gift."

Maxson scowled, "This is serious, Holmes."

"I apologize, Elder," I conceded, "you’re right. The unfortunate truth is that I cannot see any way war can be prevented as long as you remain in the Commonwealth. You will strike at any synth you find. The Minutemen will defend that synth, if their only crime is existing. You have been searching for the Railroad—"

"We have found the Railroad. We have not attacked, because a single strike will merely send them into hiding, running through escape tunnels to form again at another base. We have to eliminate the entirety of the command, be certain no one will rise up again to help them, and unfortunately the General of the Minutemen also happens to be one of their agents."

I confess, I was surprised. "Ah. Interesting."

"Do not lie to me."

"I neither confirm nor deny what you have said. I simply add that it is an interesting conundrum."

“Why are you even here, anyway?” Preston asked. “You want to scavenge the Commonwealth for tech, go ahead, kill some ferals and mutants while you’re at it, but the Institute is gone. Wasn’t that your big mission, taking down the Institute? Why haven’t you gone home?”

“Synths are an example of the misuse of technology that nearly destroyed mankind in the first place. Men pretending to be gods without consequence to their actions is what unleashed super mutants, feral ghouls, every danger of the wasteland below us. Synths are one more abomination, and should be destroyed. As the Commonwealth is the sole source of the threat, we will remain until it is eliminated. I would prefer the Minutemen stay out of our way.”

“We’d prefer you leave.”

“Hence our impasse,” I cut in. “May I suggest, Elder, that for the moment peace can be centered around a common foe? You said in your invitation that you wanted me to look into the robot problem.”

“Yes. I have reports of eyebots in the company of robots built from scrap playing a recording from someone calling himself 'The Mechanist.'”

“I've heard similar accounts,” I said. “I’ve begun an investigation into the location of this Mechanist.”

“And your intention once the location is found?”

“Confront him, and stop him.”

“Alone?”

“I will inform the Minutemen of the location and provide instructions should I be unsuccessful. As you yourself witnessed, I tend to be most successful when I am able to act independently.”

“Then you propose the Brotherhood work with the Minutemen as far as defeating the robots attacking humans is concerned, and then once this Mechanist is defeated we will… cease our cooperation?”

“That does seem to be the outcome. Of course, you can’t prove a person is a synth, so there’s no reason for you to attack any Minutemen settlements.”

“The fact that you welcome everyone without questions asked guarantees that there are synths among your settlements. If, however, we eliminate the Railroad and you gave us the few synths we do know about--”

“Not a chance in hell,” Preston said.

“Easy, Colonel,” I cautioned, “though he’s absolutely right, Maxson. Not a chance in hell. Any attack on Minutemen troops or our aligned settlements will be considered grounds for The Castle to fire upon the Prydwen.”

“Any attack on Brotherhood soldiers will result in Liberty Prime reducing your Castle to dust.”

“And so we return to square one.”

Elder Maxson sighed deeply. He looked tired. He didn’t want to be here anymore… but he had his mission, and his ideology, and he couldn’t let them go. The young man was trapped in a purgatory of his own making. I almost felt sorry for him.

All of us jumped to hear Danse’s quiet plea, “Send the Squires home.” Maxson’s face hardened, but Danse persisted, “Don’t let the future of the Brotherhood become collateral damage.”

Maxson ignored him. “If there is anything specific the Brotherhood of Steel can do to help defeat the Mechanist, let me know.”

I took the dismissal for what it was. “Thank you, Elder, I will.”

We quickly made our exit. As soon as we were out of the airport I asked Danse for his opinion of Maxson’s intentions. Danse was quiet for a moment, but said, “When Elder Maxson says he doesn’t want to go to war with the Minutemen, what he means is that he doesn’t want to lose. He will use your preoccupation with the Mechanist as an opportunity to plan and prepare his assault on the Minutemen.”

I nodded, “That’s what I suspected. Yet, eliminating the Mechanist also provides a similar benefit to us. If Maxson is watching me fight robots and organizing his men, then there’s a chance the Brotherhood won’t notice the Minutemen moving into positions of our own, if we act quickly and quietly.”

We’d reached Cait. “If ye’d been in there much longer, I would’ve taken off to Nordhagen,” she said with a scowl, her arms crossed.

Rules: Pick ONE of your OCs and THREE of their relationships (friends, parents, LIs, whatever). Find a gif that represents each relationship.

I was tagged by the wonderful @eluvisen and @sociallyacceptablemadness Thank you! ♥♥♥

Tagging: @mrninjapineapple @ariejul @sharonaw @marvilus73 @val-rampage @beckiboos @impr0bablyhighrn @lothrilzul @solesurvivorkat @mars-colony @zacklover24 @bladesremains @red-king-4 @rinasai-rambles @alexaberkeley @scarecrow-forest @charomiami @ronqueesha @maxrev @purple-martin87 @prydwencats  and you reading this! :3c No pressure to do it of course!

Nora and Nate Hart  

Nora and Danse

Nora and Brandis (with another caps making scheme no doubt!)

Brandis… a broken man, lost hope, cooped up in some bunker, alone, having lost all his squad. No way to go home, not much in the way of supplies, and no friendly settlement for MILES.

His entire team lost- killed, brutally, alone and hopeless. He knew he left them to die, each and every one of them was going to die. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He tried, he really did try.

Panic, fire, blood, bullets and screaming- those were his world for the duration of that hellish recon into the commonwealth.

The Power armours were destroyed, and Varham was killed mid-speech. Astlin was broken, and she later died alone, hopeless, ripped apart by irradiated beasts. Faris later bled to death, and Brandis had to leave him too. There was just no way, no supplies, and no help. The brotherhood was not there, and everywhere being enemies.

And then the desperation set in after his arrival to the bunker—no communications, no voice of Tara or Faris. No communication from the Brotherhood either. He tried to scout out, for supplies and for his team but… nothing. Despair set in, and after a while… he just stopped.

He won’t hear his team’s voices ever again. No one was ever coming back, and the Brotherhood was far away.

He was a man who was forgotten.

And in just three years, he is this broken husk of the great Paladin Brandis, leader and inspirer. He lost EVERYTHING. He probably has huge mental issues, severe PTSD, and can’t even sleep.

The man has so completely given up that he thinks that he no longer deserves his own title, something he worked for.

And it takes so, SO much convincing that he is someone worthy, and what’s more, needed. Brandis dying would have helped the Brotherhood of Steel with a fat load of nothing, and he knew that too. When he is convinced, he is so damn happy (or some proxy of it) because even he knew how valuable he is.