[color=6ecff6][u][b]Mags and William Black, Logan Airport Terminal, Boston [/b][/u][/color] “What exactly are we doing in here Mags?” The ire coming from Mag’s brother, William, was clear as he carefully stepped around a broken piece of fallen masonry that had collapse out onto the hallway they were traveling through. “You damn well know why William.” “I know 'why', what I want to know is your reasoning. You accepted some strangers invitation that took us halfway across The Commonwealth on a lark? You know how this is going to look with the other bosses right? Fuck I don’t even want to think what Nisha might get up to with us gone.” “Lizzie can handle our affairs back in Nuka World well enough. I have complete trust in her.” Mags replied, as she turned back to her brother, “As for my reasoning...the invitation was very persuasive. That’s all I’ll say.” “Any idea what we might be up against at least?” “No...but I have a hunch. And If I’m right, we’re either be dead or set for life.” William scoffed but knew that further argument with his sister was pointless. She’d made up her mind. He looked back on the squad of Operator goons he had with him and motioned ahead to two of them, signalling that they should take point going forward. As they continued walking down the darkened hallway of the old Logan airport terminal, William started to get more and more uneasy. Something about the location was getting to him. “Gives me the fuckin’ creeps,” He said, as he stared into the darkness of a vacant room, “Didn’t this place used to be where those Brotherhood assholes holed up?” “Used to be. You haven’t seen the tarmac yet have you?” “No. Why?” “Its a mess out there with the wreckage of their airship. And I don’t think it's a coincidence we were sent here of all places either. Its a message.” “Message for wh---” William stopped mid-sentence and stared down the hallway, “Shit what was that? Did you hear that?” The Operator group was immediately on guard at the sound of footsteps echoing around them: heavy footfalls of what sounded like armored boots. The steps grew louder until it felt like they were right on top of them. Suddenly a blinding light shone right in their faces, several in fact, and the Operators found themselves staring down the barrels of a number of guns, “Raider scum bags. Is this some kind of joke?” A gruff voice called out from beyond the row of lights, “Are you the ones who sent that message? I’ll give you thirty seconds to explain before we start blowing your heads off. William’s eyes adjusted quickly and he realized that the lights were coming from headlamps, the source of which were a number of heavy combat helmets belonging to a squad of well armed, armored, and clearly pissed off, Gunners. “I should ask you the same question. We received a message as well inviting us here. But if you received one as well I would assume that you aren’t our hosts.” “More like your undertakers,” The lead Gunner sneered, “I’m Lieutenant Markus Kilhorn with the Gunners. Won’t bother with introductions beyond that because if you’re not the ones we’re meeting, then we’ll just be shooting you,” he said flatly, “Have a nice day.” “Idiot. If someone sent the message to both of us, do you really think they want us to blow each other away in this fucking hallway? Obviously they have something planned.” Mags snapped back. “Well if I don’t get an explanation in the next minute, I’m going to assume this is a trap. So someone, somewhere, better tell me just what the hell is going on here!” [i]“Hello.”[/i] The sudden unexpected voice caused both the Operator and Gunner teams to immediately turn to the direction of the sound. Standing before them was a metal skeleton. “Jesus fucking [b]christ[/b]. What the hell?” The Lieutenant yelled, “Where did this thing come from?” Mags and William both had the same question, wondering if perhaps the thing had been following them this entire time, or had just stepped out of the shadows. “Welcome. We’re glad that you both decided to travel the long distance to Logan Airport. We can assure you that you will not be dissapointed. On behalf of The Institute, I thank you. If you would please follow me now.” Both the Gunners and the Operators turned pale at the mention, Mags was the only one who seemed satisfied with herself, “The Institute? What the hell?” One of the gunners said aloud. “The fucking boogeymen?” “I think we should follow it,” Mags pointed as the Synth began to walk away down the hallway, “We came this far. Might as well see what they have to say.” Hesitantly, both the Gunners and Operators followed the Synth, more out of curiosity than anything. A short distance down the dark hallway and the Synth stopped sharply before a metal door, “Please enter. Before you do however, I must ask that you disarm and leave your weapons behind.” “We’ll comply,” Mags gave her brother a stern gaze, knowing full well he’d be the one to object. William sighed heavily but signaled his agreement with a nod of his head. “Like hell we will. Fuck that.” Kilhorn raged, “I’m not giving you jack squat.” “Please do not argue. This is for everyone’s safety. Your weapons will be returned to you after the meeting is concluded.” The Synth replied in its emotionless mechanical voice. “And I say again, fuck that.” “Drop your weapons. [b]Now[/b].” A far more stern voice answered the Gunner Lieutenant this time, and Kilhorn found himself staring at an Institute laser pistol pointed in his face. A Courser was standing before him, and several more suddenly appeared as they deactivated their stealth fields. The Gunners raised their hands in surrender. “Fine. We’ll play along, but I warn you if this is a trap…” “You’ll do what exactly, [i]surface-dweller[/i]?” Kilhorn grimaced but said nothing. “Thank you, you may proceed,” The Synth then opened the door and welcomed the two groups inside. To the shock of everyone, the room was well-lit, moderately well furnished, and had a table and a number of chairs on either side. More shockingly, however, was the fact that a ghoul in a suit sat at the head of the table. A glass of some sort of alcohol clutched in one hand and a smoke in the other. “Took you lot long enough. I was beginning to think you’d stood me up.” The ghoul quipped. “I didn’t realize The Institute employed ghouls…” Mags replied as she took a seat at the table, the others, following her lead, sat down as well. “I’m a bit of an exception. Names Desmond Lockheart. Former MI6 operative for His Majesty's government, now I’m working with Institute SRB. Bit a favor for an old pal of mine. Don’t expect any of you to really understand what all that means, but all you need to know is that I’m the one you’ll be going through for any communication with The Institute from here on out. Before we get started, anyone want something to drink? Have the tin-can over there bring it to you if you want something. No? Good then lets get started.” “Just why did The Institute contact us of all things. That’s what I would like to know,” Lieutenant Kilhorn said. “To offer you both a contract. Simple as that. The Institute needs some extra muscle on the surface. Lot of bad things going on above ground that they’re keen on working with some of the stronger elements of The Commonwealth. You Gunners, from what I understand, are probably the most well organized merc group on the eastern seaboard. Might be even better than Talon Co. The Operators on the other hand caught their attention for capturing and holding Nuka World. Got a good strong position there.” “Not as strong as we’d like, personally, the Operators are only one of three gangs controlling the park in any case. So I’d like to inquire why the Pack and The Disciples were not invited as well.” Mags stated. “Because you were the only ones worth working with, frankly speaking, and seemed at least moderately civilized. The Institute felt they could at least work with you on fair terms.” “So you’re cutting the other gangs out? That won’t go over well you know.” “Not so much cutting them out, as eliminating them entirely love.” Desmond smiled. “Pardon?” “The Institute will soon be imposing more stricter control over The Commonwealth itself. Nuka World included. Raiders like the Disciples and The Pack will soon be a thing of the past. You can either be a part of that future, or you can be eliminated with them. But you understood that when you came to this meeting, right?” Mags couldn’t help but give a smile, “Hmm. Perhaps I did.” “So that’s your plan Mags? Throw in with The Institute and take control of Nuka World ourselves?” William interrupted. “Do you have an issue with that dear brother?” William was silent for a few moments, before he gave his reply, “Nisha is mine. That murderous bitch has killed one too many Operators and thought she could get away with it.” “Whatever you like. Not like I or The Director give two shits how you handle your little tribal tiff. So long as you lot keep yourselves in check. A Courser team will back you up during the coup. Should be more than enough. Afterwards you can expand your gang and take over the entire park if you wish. Oh, aside from a few areas that The Institute has identified as points of interest. Nothing to concern yourself over, the rest will be yours to play around in to your heart's content.” “A fair offer, and I suppose we don’t have much choice either way.” “No you don’t. As for you,” Desmond pointed to the Gunner team, “You can tell your Captain back at Gunner HQ that he answers to me now. You’ve been running around here like hooligans for too long. You’ve got the discipline and trappings of a military, I’ll give you that, but no organization and no focus. That changes.” “Or we can fight you, how about that? The Gunners have more than enough firepower to give The Institute a run for their money,” Lt. Kilhorn replied. “Do they? The last group that thought that was called The Brotherhood of fuckin’ Steel. They flew in a giant armored airship, a fleet of vertibirds, and a entire goddamn army of Power Armored soldiers. If you want to go see the results of that expedition, hang a left out onto the tarmac when you leave.” “The Captain will never agree to it. I guarantee you that.” “Oh I think he will. If I recall, he was there when a single Courser blew through an entire company of Gunners without hardly breaking a sweat. Greentech Genetics? Right? He knows better than most that you’ve got two choices, either you can work with us and you’ll never need another contract again, or don’t, and The Institute will eliminate you with extreme fuckin’ prejudice.” “Say we agree to these terms, both of us, what exactly do they need us to do?” Mags asked. “The Institute might require some non-Institute elements to assist us in the future. People they can rely on that aren’t Synths. You’ll be that element, and you’ll support The Institute’s efforts to take full control of The Commonwealth. I don’t think I need to explain to you why doing so will be much more beneficial and lucrative for both of you in the long run.” “But why now? What prompted this.” Desmond sat back in his chair, taking a few puffs on his cigarette, “Lets just say the world’s a much bigger place than The Institute thought. And that there are some nasty oddball factions out there. Nasty oddballs with goddamn battalions of troops at their command. Ever heard of The Legion? The NCR? The Midwestern Brotherhood? The Free Commonwealth? The Cult? Neither had I. But they’re carving up the continent like a carrot cake.” “So we’re the muscle to The Institute’s brain, is that it?” William smirked. “No, those blokes in the black armored coats holding the fucking energy rifles are the muscle,” Desmond pointed to the Coursers standing guard, “You’re more like the appendix. Not worth the trouble of removing if you can help it, and might still serve a purpose if its cooperative. Understand?” “Hmm…..understood.”