OOC: Next post will be for The Legion once Tib does the lead in for them. [color=00aeef][b]Lancer-Sergeant Robert Kyle[/b][/color] [i]"Pleased to meet you, Brother", Stahl said, extending her hand to Kyle, "On behalf of the Midwestern Order, I welcome you to our lands." she then added, "Please come with me. You and I, and the other rescuees will take the first Vertibird. My associate will travel with the prisoners." [/i] "Likewise ma'm," Robert replied as he returned the gesture. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of her title of 'Inquisitor' just yet, but decided that it didn't matter for the time being. "I guess this is where we part ways," Robert gave a sharp Brotherhood salute to Harkness, "Ad Victoriam, brother." It was hard to contain just how proud he was to once more be saying that phrase with pride. "[i]SQUAWK[/i]!" The sound of that annoying fat crow caused Robert to briefly glance upwards and, of course, there was that damn thing sitting atop one of the blades of the vertibird. He was about to mention something to the Inquisitor, as a joke perhaps, about the constant harassment of the birds in this town, but something inside him seemed to stop him from doing so, and he forgot the matter entirely shortly thereafter. After a briefing time in which the vertbird was reloaded with some of the raider prisoners that had been captured, along with himself, the vertibird took off once more and they were in the air and they were well on their way. Stahl turned to him again. "We'll be at the forward command base in Indianapolis in about fifteen minutes", Stahl said, "After what you've been through, I'm sure you'd like a hot meal and some sleep before we interview you...they are also sending someone from Omaha to speak to you directly..but if you have any questions, i'll answer as best I can." Robert sank back in his flight seat, a bit uneasy at the notion of just what sort of interview he'd be under, but he still maintained his composure, "Brother Harkness cleared up some of my questions already," he instead replied, "And I'm sure the rest will be cleared up in good time. The only thing that I'm wondering right now, however, is how much your Order knows about the East, and what has happened there, and how much I'll be expected to fill in the blanks." [color=00aeef][b]The Commonwealth - Goodneighbor, The Third Rail Bar[/b][/color] "Whats a guy got to do to get a decent drink around here? Charlie, you been watering down the drinks again?" The voice of an exceptionally drunk patron of the Third Rail called out to Whitechapel Charlie, the cockney robotic barkeep of the seedy little underground pub. "I'm sure I don't know what you're implying...but I think its best you shut yer gob or take a walk...your choice mate." "Fuck that Charlie, get me a decent drink or I'll turn you into scrap, how does that sound?" The drunkard began reaching for a hidden gun underneath his dirty jacket coat, but stopped when he felt the cold steel of a barrel pressed to the back of his head. This was followed shortly by the icy voice of a stranger. A ghoul from the sound of it. "I think that sounds like you've got quite the attitude on you. Best drop that before I splatter your brains all over the good brandy." "Watch who you're threatening there pal...I'm a made guy in the Triggermen." The drunkard threatened. "Triggermen? Ooo, is that the name of your boy scout troupe? Sounds fucking adorable if you ask me." "Why you little..." The drunkard spun around but before he had any time to react, the stranger cracked his head good with his pistol, sending the Triggerman crashing to the floor of the pub. By this point, the commotion had caused quite a few heads to turn in the Third Rail, but after seeing that the situation had apparently been resolved, they all quickly went back to their drinks as if nothing had happened. It was just another night in Goodneighbor. The stranger stepped over the now comatose drunkard and took his place at the bar, "Don't suppose it would be possible to get a passable scotch here..." "Probably can manage passable..." Whitechapel Charlie replied, and he hovered over to pour him his drink, "Appreciate the help mate. Ham will be down in a jiff and throw that pile of garbage out soon. Blasted Triggermen...everthing's gone to shit since ol' Hancock got himself offed. If he was still alive, you can bet nobody would be stupid enough to pull that kind of stunt in the Third Rail.....by the way, what's your name? Can't say I've heard too many accents like yours around these parts." "Desmond Lockheart," Desmond took a swig of the scotch and exhaled deeply, "Not the best...but not bad either. As for the accent...I'm not exactly from around here. Just passing through on business. I'm looking for someone actually." "Looking for someone? Well maybe I can help you out," Charlie offered, "Normally I'd charge for information..but seeing as how you got me out of that tight spot back there..." "Doubt you'd be able to help me," Desmond chuckled, "The part I need help with isn't locating him, its getting to where he's at. You see I already know where he is." "Oh, and where's that?" "The Institute." Charlie was stunned to silence and so was everyone within earshot it seemed. "Hmm. Seems to be a common occurrence wherever I go. You'd think I'd just shot a man dead.." Desmond mused, and he took another drink of his scotch. "Not sure who you're after mate, but I think its best if you forgot about it. Certainly aren't going to get much help from anyone in The Commonwealth if you're trying to go against The Institute. Not anymore at least..." "So I've gathered. To be honest however, I couldn't give a rats anus about fighting The Institute or freeing you knuckle-draggers from whatever tyranny you think you're under. I'm only here to complete The Great Game. My list is growing shorter every year, but I can already tell this one is going to be much harder than Calvert was to put down. Especially if that cowed journalist's information was correct." "Well I suppose not giving a toss is better than the alternative..." Charlie sighed, "Color me curious, what is your plan exactly?" "Simple....wait for him to find me," Desmond shrugged, "Hence my stunt here. Damned if it isn't already working too. You can all drop the act by the way, I'm not an idiot." A tense silence filled the bar, and the patrons, all of whom were previously enjoying their drinks, conversation, and good company had fallen utterly quiet, their faces transfixed with blank stares leveled at Desmond. There was not a soul in the bar that was not looking at him now, and even those who had previously appeared to be passed out or drunk off their asses were now sitting upright and giving him the same blank look as everyone else. "Thought so," Desmond sighed and finished off his glass. He spun around on the bar stool to face the eerie expressionless crowd. "I'm sorry sir, but I had no choice...never could have had a choice as a matter of fact.." Charlie apologized, as he slunk away from the bar counter. A soft clapping emanated from the back room of the Third Rail, and a red haired woman in a white and red jumpsuit stepped out, "Well now, he told me you were good...but I didn't imagine you'd be [i]that[/i] good. I'm impressed. what gave it away?" "Nothing really. I didn't know for sure until your clockwork people here stopped moving. They gave themselves away. Not that it really matters though... So can I guess that your name's Cait? The Irish broad that's my quarry's new squeeze? From what I hear, you've moved up in the world. Pit fighter to Institute Merc huh? That journalist in Diamond City had quite a bit to say about you...nothing nice by the by." "One in the same," Cait replied with an exaggerated bow, "And little Miss Pipsqueak yaps too much. She should know she's not supposed to be talkin' outside of school. That was part of the arrangement." "Hmph. Fair enough. So he sent you to kill me then? Figured maybe I might have bitten off more than I could chew this time after I talked with the journalist. If I'd only gotten here a few years earlier...he'd still be on ice right now and it would have been a cinch to cross him off my list. Instead he's got an army at his back now. Oh well, its all part of The Game. Kill and be killed and all that bullshit." "If it were up to me you'd have been dead the moment you stepped inside The Third Rail, but...Thomas wanted me to bring you in alive." "So he's taking me to the one place where I could never reach him? Tsk tsk, that's not the sort of decision that makes a good player of The Great Game. He's going to end up dead sooner rather than later." "I think you'll find an SRB cell isn't a place where you're going to be pulling any sort of stunts. But you're welcome to try." "I suppose we'll find out. So then, how are we getting there? Have you got a Vertibird shoved down your knickers or are we going by magic carpet?" A mischievous smile crossed Cait's face, "Not exactly..." Desmond then experienced a rare moment of genuine shock as his eyes and ears became filled with a bright blue light and a loud crack of energy.