Fallout 4: AR

50. Rogue Asset

"We've been looking for you," spoke a deep voice quietly in my ear. A blow to the back of my head stunned me, causing me to see stars. Strong arms encircled my own tightly enough that I dropped my shotgun with a loud clatter. I was lifted clean off the floor in an implacable hold, the tall figure who had grabbed me seemingly unmoved by my struggling and ineffective kicks. I took in a breath to scream, but he quickly shifted his arms to cover my mouth with one large gloved hand. "You're coming with me, ma'am. You are in possession of something that belongs to the Institute."

The clatter of my shotgun hadn't gone unnoticed, even as I was prevented from screaming an alert. Deacon was shaking his head, trying to restore his own vision. MacCready whirled around at the sound, and when he discovered my predicament, he immediately lifted his sniper rifle, aiming at my kidnapper's head. "Let her go!" he yelled, voice cracking in anger as he slowly moved forward, "or I'll blow your head clean off!" I trusted his skill implicitly and went limp, presenting less of a chance to skew his aim.

"I don't think so." With that emotionless rejoinder, the Courser, it has to be another Courser, he's so strong, did something I couldn't see and we were suddenly surrounded by an intense, yet familiar, blue-white radiance.

"No!" screamed MacCready in sudden panic, charging forward too late to reach us. "No! Stop!"

With a loud crack, I felt the tingle of electricity zing through my entire body, guided by my Pip-Boy's connection to the wires embedded within. The world appeared to disintegrate around us, but not with the same intensity as when I first arrived in Boston. I was able to hold on to my consciousness as we reappeared in a small alcove of some sort. The room was dimly lit, surrounded by curious metal arcs, and packed with open circuitry that slowly quieted from the frantic hum announcing our arrival. The air smelled slightly dusty, but completely free of the pervasive metallic odor that permeated the Commonwealth. Where are we?

My kidnapper shifted his grip on me, effortlessly slinging me over his shoulders in a painful, controlled hold. Frantically grabbing at my arm, I tried to quickly mark our exact location on my Pip-Boy's map, in the desperate hope that I could escape back this same way. Unfortunately, the Courser chose that exact moment to hitch me up higher on his shoulders, hands grabbing at my wrists and ankles, preventing me from moving. I grunted in pain, and he ignored me, striding confidently out of the alcove, through a busy scientific workplace staffed by several people who pretended to ignore us, and into a long, clean hallway. The Courser carrying me was very tall, nearly as tall as a Brotherhood soldier in power armor. He was dark-skinned, wearing the intimidating black leather Courser uniform, mirrored shades over his eyes. His tightly curled black hair was extremely close cut, presenting a very intimidating appearance.

I tried not to be impressed, but the creeping cowardice in my nature kept me frozen in fear. I'm alone, kidnapped again, held by someone so much stronger than I am that's it's practically laughable for me to even, ow!, think of escape. I wish MacCready were here. At the thought of my absent companion, a swell of misery crested in my belly, crashing over me. He would have already twisted free somehow and made a break for it. I'm not anywhere near as strong or courageous as he is. What can I do?

Turn your fear into anger. I focused on my partner's confident, brash attitude, the deadly intense expression in his eyes when he fought. He's so emotional, so passionate, yet he directs that emotion into anger to fight. I need to learn from him. Closing my eyes, I turned inward for a moment, dredging up my shattered courage.

This damn Courser may have my hands and feet secured, but he can't stop me from screaming. Suiting action to thoughts, I took as deep a breath as I could manage in my current awkward position and screeched as loud and high as I could, right in his ear. Having been many years since I sang in any formal sense, MacCready's singing lessons notwithstanding, my range was reduced, but I could still force a painfully high squealing tone. My abductor merely tightened his grip on my limbs and jumped slightly, causing me to bounce painfully across his shoulders and knocking the breath out of me. Damn it.