Chapter Text
Mason hated the noise. He wasn’t sure when it started –or if it’d always been there –but he felt its dry static hum ever since his packmates forced him back through Nuka World’s gate. Day in and day out, their voices grated against his ears. Incessant. Droning. Always some pea-brained status report whispered throne-side like they were too afraid he’d hear it –like any minute they’d be the unfortunate straw breaking the camel’s back –pressure plate triggered, explosion imminent.
“Mackenzie stopped by again today–She really thinks you outta let her look at those cuts.”
“Alpha…We’re–the boys have been complainin’ about the Beaton’s getting low again…”
“I know you don’t wanna hear it, but Mags is at the entrance–says ain’t leaving this time ‘til you talk to her.”
What did he care if the resident ice queen froze out on his doorstep? The minute William and his party stepped foot back under his sister’s protection, he would have spilled every giddy detail about their trip into the Commonwealth. They failed. Nora’s handpicked party ventured into the Commonwealth, recaptured their target, and they still managed to come out with a loss. One hand less. Overboss gone. It didn’t matter if Dixie sat under heavy guard in one of the Safari Adventure exhibits. The moment she was gone, they’d fall back to what they did best; petty squabbling over territory, resources, caps.
“Alpha?”
Mason ignored Talis’s probing question by turning up the volume on the radio next to him. Distorted barks crackled through the speaker in response, overshadowing his second in command’s apprehensive shift in position. Ever since his return, the pack Alpha glued himself to a chair nearby. The reception never came in quite right. Once in a long while, they’d pick up a string of fragmented music; rarer, part of an announcement from Radio Freedom. He waited for a sign she was alive, breath catching in his chest anytime the announcer mentioned Sanctuary hills or raiders in the area.
She had friends in the military’s ranks. He told himself their history mattered.
Turns out, he was right.
Weeks after his escape, Talis managed to tap into a Diamond City Radio feed, catching the tail end of a song.
“This is Travis “lonely” Miles–” the voice announced in a forced, low croon, “–Our next one goes out to all the ladies broken up over the Mayor of Goodneighbor’s recent wedding announcement.” he laughed –nervous and breathy– an awkward sort of silence filled with cluttered internal dialogue, trying to weigh the consequences of bringing up something controversial. But truthful; not worth the risk for taboo speculation.
Settling on a decision, the announcer cleared his throat, falling right back into his persona, “Whether you’re a ghoul or a ex-general turned raider —and uh…turned minuteman again –there’s always time to turn over a new leaf, to find that special someone–” a metallic squeak interrupted the speaker’s train of thought. After a couple seconds of silence he tried to lurch back into his syrupy charisma, an unexpected voice crack setting him up for failure, “D–don’t believe me? Just…uh–just ask my pal, Detective Valentine here…”
A soft, feathery chuckle took over the mic, the synth’s modulated voice coming over the radio waves, “Thanks Travis” he eased, “Now, I know most of you weren’t thrilled by the representatives’ decision…”
The synth went on a romanticized retelling of the bride and groom’s meeting –how they gravitated to one another the minute they stepped into each other’s proximity. He tried to ease the listener’s apprehension by reassuring them Hancock planned on proposing to Nora in Nuka World; but as the audience was familiar, raiders had a habit of ruining good people’s plans. Nora and Hancock were the lucky ones. They were star-crossed lovers who went through hell and back just to end up together in the end. Nothing could keep them apart. Not the glowing sea. Not raiders. Not a ten year sentence being the minutemen’s stooge.
Even though the ceremony’s planning fell through numerous times over the last month, he confirmed this time the date was set –guaranteed by the Mayor of Goodneighbor. Nora was assigned to take care of a super mutant stronghold and a couple other tasks for the minutemen over the next few weeks, but once she returned, wedding planning would be in full swing. A month. Hancock set the date, issuing a playful challenge to the minutemen general that if he dared to postpone the ceremony again, Goodneighbor would lock its doors up tight, harboring their new weapon until it was over.
News of the Overboss’s capture and sentencing spread through the park, putting everyone on high alert. Talk sprang up of finding a new overboss to take Nora’s place, to return to the status quo for fear any time spent without a unifying leader would lead to their destruction. Mason wasn’t in any condition to take the job. His god awful moods hobbled the pack, making them disjointed and nervous. He didn’t care. He needed a fresh coat of blood to mask his wounds, make them taste like revenge, make them feel like he got something at the end of it.
Mags was the alternative option. Her level head kept the trading post afloat while the Pack Alpha squandered his position. Despite her peoples’ urging, she made no move to take up the position as Overboss. Instead she kept her head down, working with Talis when she could, trying to maintain the fragile peace between them. Any move to usurp Nora’s vacant throne would be met by violence from the Pack –her natural favorites –the act a sign of treason, a threat to engulf the Pack and Nuka World with it.
Taking a step forward, Talis tapped a rolled up magazine against his hand, “Alpha”
It’s not like Mason wanted Nora dead. She was alive –and he was thankful–but he just felt so goddamn….stupid. Nuka World raiders forced her to become one of them. They made her old life become so twisted and unrecognizable she was willing to loosen her ties to her past and become one of them. It wasn’t organic. He knew that. If she had any hope Hancock was alive those first few months she was with them, she’d play along until she found an opening. Then she would have escaped Nuka World, leaving them behind without a second glance.
But she made promises and he got caught up thinking there was a future where they existed together. It was never his –not in a way that mattered at the end of the day. The two of them worked in a time capsule, holding on to each other while the universe pulled them apart. The second one of their hands slipped, they were shot back to their opposite corners of the world. Where they belonged. She picked back up where she left off, getting married, knowing he was alive in Nuka World waiting for her, knowing she promised not to make him go back alone.
He just couldn’t help feeling cheated. Silly. Aimless.
Heavy panting took up the breaks in the mongrel’s snarls, footsteps pounding against concrete. Twisting and turning through a maze of trip wires, she threw herself against a solid object, breath rushing out of her in a strained wheeze. Realizing the mongrel pack was a new addition to the gauntlet, she doubled back on her efforts. Smart…but worthless. Despite every effort she made to lose them in the maze, they regained every inch by the time she made it to the gauntlet’s entrance, just to find out it was locked. Reinforced. A dead end.
Elbows rested on his knees, Mason peered through smoked glass into the center of Cola Cars arena. One of the creature’s snarls was rewarded with an anguished cry, cutting a smug smile in the alpha’s cheek. Revenge. Slow and painful. Somehow it felt like nothing and everything in a split second; a black hole swallowing all the anger, all the pain, leaving him with an empty hollowness in its wake.
“How long has she been at it?”
“Two days” Talis answered when Mason didn’t show any signs of acknowledging Mag’s question, her brother offering a node in greeting as they made their way to the back wall, “We think she’s been drinking from the mirelurk pond–” a disagreeing huff, a chuckle at their captive’s expense, “–idiotic considering how much radiation’s packed into that thing –so far hasn’t even attempted to come through the arena.”
“It’s smart.” flat, Mason shot back through sleep deprived strain, “She took her time learning the new layout –figures we’ll get inpatient –send someone after her.”
And he would have if it was anyone else. The last thing they needed was Dixie wasting whoever they sent in. The minute she got her hands on a weapon, the odds changed. The pack redesigned the old gauntlet to be the Disciple’s personal purgatory. She could fight. She could run. She could prolong the inevitable –but at the end of the day, there was no chance in hell Mason would let her get out of there alive –not after everything she had done. He wanted her to feel as helpless as her victims felt under her reign –as he coming back to Nuka World.
Another pained groan came through the speaker, hushed, forced to become a whisper. The mic attached to Dixie’s collar gave the raider’s of Nuka World insight on every scrape, every coveted second she fought for her life. Mason became obsessed with it. For the last two days he forced himself to sit inside the announcer’s box in Nuka Cars, listening for the raider’s final raspy breaths to slip through the radio next to him. She had two options; either face him in the arena, or die inside the locked maze like the rat she was and he wasn’t about to miss a second of it.
It all started in pre-war attraction. Dixie’s need to torture the unsuspecting people of the Commonwealth the catalyst for Mason’s destruction. She set Harvey up to bring people like Nora to Nuka World. She caused Nora to leave and seek her out in the Commonwealth. She was the reason he was captured by the minutemen, Nora was gone, he was alone.
“Doubt she’ll be ready for the Yao Guai we planted last night though” he smirked, leaning back into the metal folding chair beneath him with sadistic satisfaction, “I don’t know anyone who faced one unarmed and came out of it alive.”
The room remained silent, its inhabitants observing the raider in front of them with concern. Logic and reason couldn’t reach the Pack Alpha anymore. The last time they tried, he forced the rest of them out of the announcer’s box, locking the door behind them. Hours passed before he finally let Talis in again on the promise he wouldn’t try to change the alpha’s mind. He was dead set on seeing his vision through. Duties be damned, they were either with him or against him, and if anyone had the balls to try and stop him, they were in for a fight.
“She should be here” the broadcast took its toll on him, ripped away years of planning, promises, ideas he had the naivety to believe could come true, “Ten years.” he laughed, ironic and cheated, “Petty assholes.”
This time, Talis didn’t wait for his friend to acknowledge his existence. He couldn’t continue sitting by, watching Mason waste away. Two frustrated steps and he shoved the rolled up magazine into his lap, “Here.” quick to move out of reach he gestured towards the slowly unraveling pages, “A trader dropped this off –said it’s for you.”
And when Mason didn’t move to inspect the contents, he sighed, pent up annoyance slipping through, “It’s from the Commonwealth, Mason –from Goodneighbor.”
As if on cue, the Alpha’s posture stiffened, a split second where fear washed over him, seizing his joints and preventing them from seeking out the meaning behind the sudden package. He picked up the magazine, delicate, dissecting each page like a ticking bomb was waiting for him on the other side. Past advertisements for Nuka Cola flavored shaving cream and propaganda to join the fight against a pre-war republic of China, Mason’s anger grew. Nothing. What was the ghoul’s deal? He won. He had Nora, the minutemen’s sure fire promise of time together, and yet, he took the time out of his day….to showboat?
“Is this a joke?” Mason growled, already minimal patience wearing thin.
“No” dumbfounded, Talis glanced between the magazine and Mason’s furrowed brow, “He–” the second in common looked for reason, kicking himself for jumping on the idea the message came from Nora herself, “He said it was urgent.”
Mason continued to fumble with the pages, each one just as meaningless as the last. He landed on a page depicting the perfect nuclear pre-war family; father in a suit and tie, his arm curled around his wife next to them, a small pig-tailed child’s hand held gently in her mother’s. Someone took the time to scribble over the parent’s faces, a mess of wild untamed red hair taking up where the father’s used to be, a set of heavy black lines placed over his eyebrows, forzen in a comical furrow. They altered the mother’s hair to be just as red, drawn into a messy braid, a thin black frown drawn over her face.
Definitely showboating. Mason hurled the magazine at the glass in front of him, watching as the magazine thudded against the wall, pages splaying wide, then tumbled to the ground, “Burn it” he growled through his teeth, “Next time anything comes from Goodneighor, send that shit back. I don’t need it.”
Talis moved to pick up the contents at the far side of the room, a postcard sized piece of paper falling from between the pages. Curious, Talis bent down to retrieve it, inspecting a picture on one side. Patchy areas of gray and white sat in a semicircle, encompassed by a sea of black. Making little sense to the second in command, he flipped the card over, finding a message written in perfect penmanship. Eyes widened as he filtered through each word, a tense glance shooting in Mason’s direction.
“What is it?” Mags prodded from the back of the room, “They sent a postcard?”
“No” he breathed, ghostly quiet, “Mason, you’re gonna want to see this.”
Mason huffed, “I don’t care what that asshole has to say” he doubled down, “Burn it.”
The command didn’t stop Talis from hesitating. He glanced back down to the message, then let his hand drift to his side, making a move to join the others at the back of the room. Hand out, Mags asked to see what the infamous Mayor of Goodneighbor could possibly have to say to the raiders of Nuka World. Begrudgingly, Talis handed it over, letting Mags sift through the message on her own. Just like Talis, her eyes widened then darted up to meet Talis’s gaze, the same sort of urgency taking over her expression, then softened into sparkling laughter.
“Oh, you’re definitely going to want to read this one.” she flipped the paper over, analyzing the image in her hand, a smirk working into the corners of her mouth. The information delicious, the secret tempting, “I could read it, if you want.”
“Fine.”
In dramatic fashion, Mag’s curled a stray lock behind her ear, clearing her throat, “This little enemy of the state has been stowing away for a few weeks now. They’re safe. Just thought you should know. Congrats dad :) – L.” she read a little further, breathy laughter easing its way out before she managed to relay the message, “PS. The bean-shaped blob is your kid. I marked it so you could find it.”
William tried to snatch the paper from his sister’s hands, her tight grip .He settled for peering over her shoulder. As soon as he read the message for himself, his expression mirrored his sisters. Smug superiority, “So much for keeping your little rendezvous a secret, eh mutt?”
“Like anyone believed th– hey.”
While the sibling’s bickered, Mason leapt out of his seat, plucking the piece of paper from their grasp. Feverishly he scanned through the message, starting over when his brain couldn’t make sense of what he read. Just like the writer said, they scribbled a red circle around a gray blob in the sea of black. He couldn’t think –a kid –his kid.
“Where is she?” abrupt, he redirected his attention to his second in command, expectant, rushed. They tried to keep it a secret, but he knew Talis kept tabs on her whereabouts, quick to turn off a radio whenever he came into the room. The raider held the information close to his chest –to the grave if needed –just in case Mason ever wanted a status update, “where is Nora?”
“She–” he tried to find his words amidst the rising tension, “Last time we caught anything over the minutemen comms, they were going to send her to that summer camp to the east of h–”
“Get her things –get a team together” he interrupted, hazy and disjointed, “Make sure they’re ready –I’m leaving in the morning, with or without them.”
“And Dixie?” Mag’s teased, gesturing towards the empty arena in front of them, “You want us t–”
“Shoot her as soon as she gets in the arena. I –I don't care –just take care of it.” and he stormed out of the announcer’s box.