Chapter Text
"Look, I don't know you, I don't like you. So I'm not going to sugarcoat anything. You go over to the train station, clear out the ferals, come back. Got it?" Rhys said.
"Absolutely." Delilah told him.
Stay low. Stay low or you'll be seen. If you're seen you'll be ripped apart. Preston will return, ask about you. Rhys probably won't give him an answer. If he does he'll head straight here, find the pieces of you all over. Then what will he do? He'll be out a general and only have the dog for company. The thoughts ran around Delilah's brain as she hid in the subway stairwell. Ferals were roaming around, searching for whoever killed their brethren. She took aim again, killing the other three in rapid succession, and then creeping through the station. What looked like raider corpses littered the ground, and feral ghouls were everywhere. Civilians? People attempting to survive? How long have they been down here-- were they trying to escape on trains when the bombs fell? Were they going about their daily lives? Or were they people just trying to hide down here in the years after, twisted into some sick form of a joke?
There was a pack on the tracks, where a wooden platform was attached to a train. The train car's door was shut tightly, and the ferals were trying to get in. Delilah shot two of them, hiding as they began to search for her. The other four were shot down quickly and she climbed onto the platform, looking in. There was a man inside, curled up in a ball.
"Hello?" She asked quietly. The man looked up, terrified. He can't be older than seventeen. He's not even through puberty yet.
"You-- you're not a feral-- who are you?" He asked, voice shrill.
"I'm a friend. Why are you in there?" She tried to sound as soothing as possible.
"Ghouls swarmed us one night. Took us by surprise. They-- they killed everyone except me. Because I locked myself in here." He's small. Small and scared.
"Why were you down here?"
"This is our territory. Or it was. I guess it's ghoul territory now."
"Are you a raider?" Delilah asked. He looked down.
"Yes." He said quietly. Kill him-- he's hurt so many people, kill him now and be done with it-- if you don't he'll kill you--
"I could shoot you right now and be done with it. Or you could unlock the door and help me clear out the rest of the ghouls." Delilah said.
"Why would you… why'd you let me help you?"
"Because I'm outnumbered and seriously doubting that my luck and skill alone can get me through the tunnel." She said flatly.
"And after?"
"Depends. Would you give up hurting other people for no reason?" He nodded. "Open the door." She backed up as he opened it, standing up stiffly. "What's your name?"
"I'm… Crag. Or, I'm called Crag. I'm not allowed to use my old name." He said, running a hand through limp shaggy hair.
"Why not?"
"It's bad for business. Everyone changes their names. Even if it's just changing from 'Dennis' to 'Trevor'. Putting your old life away, stuff like that."
"Fair enough. Got a weapon?" He held up a pipe pistol. "All right. Just so you know, a lot of people have tried to shoot me over the years. A lot of them did shoot me. But the bullets never killed me. So don't go trying to betray me, got it?" Crag nodded, following her down the tunnel along the train car. "So why'd you join a raider gang?" To kill. To torture. For fun.
"The caravan I was with was slaughtered by super mutants. I was one of the only survivors. Got picked up by a gang and it spiralled out from there." Crag told her. She nodded as she picked off a feral climbing under the train. "I've been with two different gangs. This one was definitely the worst."
"What kept you from joining a settlement or another caravan?"
"After the first one? Word gets around. No one wants to be near the ex-raider. If I could leave the area I would, but I don't have the caps or supplies." They headed into an open train car and onto the station platform. He took aim and shot three ferals as he spotted them in the stairway.
"Are you interested in quitting?" She asked as they climbed the staircase.
"Absolutely." Delilah stood up as they reached the top, gunning down the ferals that noticed them.
"There's a settlement up past Concord. Promise me you're not going to turn on me, you've got a new home." Crag turned to her, bloodshot blue eyes wide with surprise.
"You're joking. You wouldn't actually open your gates to me." He said.
"There's honestly not much you can do right now to call in reinforcements. Besides, we've got a whole lot of heavily-armed settlers up there. It's not like any buddies of yours could fight them." Good bluff. Casual, calm. He'll never know until he's up there.
"A lot of people? A lot of…" Crag squirmed, shifting his focus onto the lone ghoul in the old bathroom. He shot it. "You're serious. You're… thank you." He smiled, looking weepy. "You're the nicest person I've met so far." He's so young-- he's a child-- this is a child you're helping, a child with a gun and nothing to his name but a body count--
"Don't cry on me please." Delilah told him. He nodded.
The staircase up was cracked cement. A loose step sent Crag falling back down when it slid backwards under his weight. Delilah turned to him as he landed.
"I'm fine." He said quickly, standing up and readjusting his belt. She nodded, pushing open the doors to harsh sunlight.
"If you head northwest you'll-- Preston!" She spotted the minuteman heading through the empty street. He waved to her. "Follow me."
"Who's this?" Preston asked.
"Hi. I'm um, I'm Crag." He said nervously. Dogmeat sniffed him, growled softly, and then licked his hand.
"Found the kid in the subway. Can we give him a home?"
"He looks like a raider." Preston said, observing the makeshift armour.
"I don't want to be one. I didn't want to--"
"Dogmeat thinks he's okay. And he did help me out with a feral problem." Delilah told him.
"If Dogmeat thinks he's okay, then okay. Sanctuary's to the northwest. Past Concord, a Red Rocket, and then over a wooden bridge. There's a sign that says 'Sanctuary Hills' and a bunch of houses." Preston said.
"You really trust me don't you?" Crag said quietly.
"Honestly I don't trust you but I trust Del's judgement and Dogmeat's assessment. But you are pretty much on probation. You pull a gun or anyone finds you doing suspicious shit, you'll be questioned and potentially thrown out. Got it?" Preston asked. Crag nodded quickly. "Get going. Try not to die." Crag glanced at the two, and then began walking down the street. As he reached the intersection he took off running, vanishing from sight behind buildings.
"Did we make the wrong choice?" Preston asked.
"I found him in a train car practically sobbing with fear, surrounded by feral ghouls. He's just a kid." A child, a child with a gun and nothing but a few bullets and words to his name--
"Kids grow up pretty fast out here." Preston said sadly.
"It's on my head if anything goes wrong. Not yours." Delilah said firmly. "I took Quincy into account, trust me."
"I appreciate that. Why were you down there?"
"I may have joined the Brotherhood of Steel." Delilah said awkwardly.
"You what?"
"Look it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. Closest thing to military this place's got and my brain was begging for some form of structured order or whatever. I'm still the general, right?"
"I don't think I can kick you out for being part of the Brotherhood." Preston said. "Not entirely understanding of why you joined, but it's your choice."
"Okay great. Because I just went through an entire train station clearing out feral ghouls. Come on, the guy that told me what to do's an ass."