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

"Aye, seems like a good plan," Longfellow nodded, "The townsfolk can start stripping the bird and make some kind of sled from the parts. Ain't got to go far...just far enough to get us back to town. Don't know what to do 'bout the power armor, but I'll leave that to you two," He said, pointing to the two James', "Lets get this done and get this done quick. I don't want to be out here any longer than we have to. Them cultists might be back any moment now."

James nodded and went back to the power armor. His custom suit was still in the back where he had left it and he gazed towards it appreciatively. The helmet, right leg, and right arm had all been replaced with shiny T-51b, while the rest was all the original T-45. Just looking at it brought back memories of the good years. He reflexively reached around, popped open the back, and jumped in.

James mumbled an involuntary “hoorah”, as he felt the systems come online.

While the Enclaver grabbed all the corpses they cared for, he carefully detached the minigun. He directed him to grab the three Brotherhood men as well. Maybe they deserved something better than this. 

James proceeded to direct the townspeople to what was and wasn’t important. He chose the islanders to use the two remaining suits for now, distributed the equipment evenly, and showed them the strongest and most useful salvage. It was not much more than an hour later when they left what remained of the Vertibird behind, departing into the night. 

[u][i][b]
Back in the town…[/b][/i][/u]

At first, the mood was like any celebrating the return of victorious Knights. It was always that way before the reality of the casualties was realized. More shed tears for Avery than just Corrine. Even though the Enclaver and him knew that they were holding something else entirely, he didn’t have the heart to break it to them.

James was unlocking the 5th crate when the call came from the Watch: “Something’s coming!” He got up and quickly fell in behind the Enclaver as his stomach sank. Another attack now? Despite his power armor, he wasn’t exactly battleworthy.

The Enclaver turned and talked over his shoulder as they got up the stairs, "If this is an attack we need stall them up long enough for Brooks to hand out the weapons and supplies."

He nodded and unslung his own weapon. As he peered off into the void, a single light bobbed its way towards them like it was being carried on a large murky wave. Once it got closer, he could see it was a singular cultist wearing… pre-war marine armor? He was more than a little dumbfounded at the walking contradiction coming towards them. 

The figure spoke with a voice that was filled with both conviction and authority,

"Hold your fire," the armored cultist asked, a male voice audible through the helmet, "I'm not here to fight. I'm here to retrieve the bodies of our fallen brothers and sisters. The one you know as 'Avery', we know by another name. She is not the friend you once knew, I'm sorry to say. Captain Avery was dead long before today. The woman you killed...should be with her family, not with you. Do us this kindness...and we will return the favor in kind." 
 
As usual, he wasn’t sure what to say. Words weren’t always his strong suit. Corrine glanced side to side and saw that indeed, the harborfolk seemed to have each looked to her, expecting her to respond. "What," she began, though it came out as a combination of a croak and a squeak. "Avery was one of ours, born 'n' raised on the Island, no matter what she...what she chose later," she called down.  "She may have spent 'er last days...elsewhere, but her family, her real family, are the folks who stand with me here and behind this wall."

She started to shake. James felt a pang of worry.  "Her roots," she began, her voice breaking, "her roots are here, with us.  I'm sorry fer your loss, but our loss is deeper.  Simple as that."

Corrine paused, to realize people were still staring at her.  "Ah...oh, I guess I mean...no.  Ya can't have Avery." Seemingly flustered, She looked around to the stony faces of the other harborfolk.  "Well, ain't I right?!"

 "I have an question, well two actually" James stated with Brotherhood armour voice box echoing it down to the helmeted cultist "How did you know Avery was an synth? and do you know why it had replaced Avery?”

This was a mess. On one hand, there was no doubting Avery was a synth. The tech in her head showed that. To make matters worse, she wasn’t just a synth; she, or it, was a replacement. That made his stomach churn and his neck hairs rise. He had doubted Maxson’s grand conceptions of Synth spies, but here it was staring him in the face. Scientists somewhere got caught up in their power and only hurt humanity, rather than progressing it. Just like before the Great War. 

On the other hand, this synth Avery had been leading these people for a while, as he understood it. She might not have even known she wasn’t real. It also seemed like the cult had done something to brainwash the synths. How else would they go from peaceful hilltop community to cultists foaming at the mouth with devotion? Rose had shown synths have their own kind of brotherhood and it was hard to see them breaking it for some island worship. Even if she wasn’t the original Avery, her true family was still in Far Harbor rather than with this cult.

His words came to him suddenly, sounding harsh and familiar in his power armor accent. “How did the synths of the island become so intimate with you?”, James shouted down. He halted, making sure his wording was right. Then he called down with some heat, “How do synths living peacefully in Acadia or Far harbor just up in leave their homes and become fanatical cultists the next day? No, I think Corrine is right. Whatever Avery was, she was a member of a family here first.”

James realized he may have spoken a little boldly in representation of a town he’d only been in for a day, and turned to Corrine in somewhat sheepish deferment.