[color=ed1c24][u][b]James Gregor Castner[/b][/u][/color]

Rose looked up at him with watery eyes, and she eyed him with stern suspicion,

"You're the Brotherhood soldier aren't you?" She asked peevishly, "What would it matter to you that these Synths died? Just a few less abominations to wipe out in the world right?"

He didn’t know what to say. She turned back to looked at the dead cultist lying before her,

"But if you really want to know what they mean to me...family I suppose, in an odd way. I don't know any of them by name, but I recognize their faces somehow. As if I've seen them before. All Synths come from the same source, the same...home...if you can call it that. Maybe...maybe before the Institute's security measures wiped my memory...maybe I knew them somehow, and now I only have the faintest hint of recognition."

It was a kind of shared family. Not unlike when soldiers could recognize other soldiers, no matter the conflict they were a part of. All synths recognizing each other to some extent could help them survive, but it also could be a boon to anyone of their enemies. Again he didn’t say anything.

Rose then stood up, wiped her eyes and sighed,

"It doesn't matter now I guess. They were trying to kill you, and I suppose you did what you had to do. Look I don't know why there would be Synths among the cultists, but something tells me there's a lot more to these people than we realize...."

“I’m sorry about your family.”, he said a little abruptly. “I feel the same way about those men over there”, he pointed at the dead knights “I didn’t really know them, but we were both a part of a bigger family I used to have connections with”. He paused for a few moments. “Look”, he said with more certainty “I’m not really with Maxson anymore. I was sent on this mission to disappear from his ideal Brotherhood and I doubt I’ll ever head back.” He looked over to Avery’s crushed synth parts that peeked out of her ruined head and had an idea. “The synths have a computerized part in their brain right? Maybe the Cult somehow hacked them and forced them to do this? Or maybe their control over animals extends to humans…” 

After his conversation with Rose was done, James decided to take full scope of the devastation and walk amongst the wreckage and bodies. Three dead Knights out of power armor. He carefully lifted the strange white rags the cultists placed on them, grimacing as the cultists handiwork was revealed. It was immediately apparent that Knight Jackson hadn't survived the crash. He would say it was poetic justice for being an asshole, but nobody deserves being nearly crushed in half by a hunk of steel. The other two were shot full of grimy radioactive rounds from the cultists. He grabbed their holotags and gingerly reapplied the white rags. All he felt for them was a hollow sadness for fellow soldiers. He would prefer to bury or burn them, but he was aware that probably wasn't an option. The vertibird equipment came first.

James then surveyed the wreckage. The Vertibird had a nasty crash on it’s side with scorched earth and pieces of it all around. The whole structure was propped up at an angle by the gnarled right wing, whose ravaged rotor was weighing it down on that side. The left wing was yards behind the craft. The massive hole through both sides of the bird gaped menacingly, but it also provided an easier entrance point than the cargo door in the back.

The cultists had already pulled out all of the hardened steel crates out of the wreckage and left them scattered around. They had even managed to pick a few of the locks, though they didn’t have the time to make off with any of the loot. He remembered the manifest and he still had a key that could open all the crates. All that was needed was to carry it back. Twelve crates in total carrying a few spare AER9s and R91s, fusion cells and bullets, fusion cores, military rations, medicine, water straight from the D.C. purifier, and radio equipment. All emergency backups and surplus, but still useful in the current situation. 

James pulled himself up into the vertibird through the hole, wincing at the pain in his leg and chest. He would have to go to the doc again back in town. Stopping to catch his breath, he looked around the tiny wrecked interior of the vertibird. It felt like it had been a week since he fell out of this bird, not a single day. In that time, he had joined a mission not unlike those he completed with Lyon’s Pride. Originally, Knight Brendan had planned to acquire lodging with the locals, while they found out what they could. If they had successfully landed, would he still have been able to help out like he was now? He doubted it. 

The left door minigun was still securely in it’s dock, while the right was hopelessly twisted from the forces of the crash. With some help, he could securely detach the left and re-dock it somewhere else. No need to use power armor to rip it off. And yes, the four power armor suits were still securely docked in the back with fusion cores. None of the suits had fallen and still stood stoically, though at the same angle as the vertibird. He squeezed between them and opened the cargo door. It was bent at the right edge, but it creaked down all the same.

Through the door, he could see Steve was awake. He rushed over to find they were talking about burying Avery… and the little mutated monster with her. He looked at Steve strangely, unsure what the badly wounded man was talking. Maybe it was the shock talking? Once he was done he spoke: “We’re in the money with the supplies and power armor, guys. And there’s one minigun still operational. We just need to get it back to town”, he looked at the jagged bits of hull scattered around “Maybe we could make some kind of sleigh to put the crates on?”