Crossfire - Fallout 4 - [R J MacCready x Sole Survivor]

Chapter 15

Sanctuary was becoming more and more familiar to MacCready. Dawn had disappeared to do her usual errands, while MacCready busied himself with cleaning his rifle in Sturges' workshop. They were back at her main settlement for two days now – three days since they left Duncan's cure with Daisy – and whenever he had free time from patrolling he went straight to work with his gun.

Sturges was busying himself with upgrading a turret, a screw held between his lips and a spanner in hand. Aside from the occasional sound of tinkering within the workshop, the two men were mostly silent as they worked. MacCready liked that about the mechanic. He didn't try to fill the silence with unnecessary chatter, obviously sharing the mercenary's sentiments with finding solace in their own projects.

But his solace was interrupted when a woman strode up to them, arms crossed in bitter disposition. MacCready looked up from his rifle, getting a proper look of her. She was slim, high cheekbones and jet black hair cut by her jawline. She would have been pretty if she smiled, but the anger she exudes had twisted her features into something less pleasant.

"Merc," she barked, "Why don't you actually make yourself useful for once and do some hunting."

Sturges perked up from the harsh order. But he did not look at her with disdain, more like in understanding. "C'mon Marcy, that ain't no way to talk to our guest," he said as he set down his tools. "Besides, don't we have enough meat in the smokehouse?"

Marcy scoffed. "We do, but there's only so much Molerat I can stomach. There's a herd of Radstag spotted further up the lake." Her eyes narrowed at MacCready. "Y'know, earn your keep for a change."

MacCready opened his mouth to retort but Sturges gave him a hard look, forcing the young man to bite back his insult. Marcy stiffly turned on her heel before stomping off, and once she was far away he slammed his rifle back together.

"Don't pay her no mind," Sturges sighed as he returned his attention back to the turret, "She's gone through a lot back in Quincy. Her husband, Jun, he's a nervous wreck now. And to think that they were one of the nicest families before they lost their son."

MacCready's hands stilled, breathing temporarily halted, and he looked up to watch Marcy disappear into a shack. "How old was their son?"

"Kyle was nine."

He clenched his jaw as he gently pieced back his weapon. Briefly he wondered if he would act the same way as Marcy if he had lost Duncan. It was not something he wanted to admit out loud, but there was a point in his life where his mind wandered to darker thoughts. What if Duncan didn't make it? What if he didn't get the cure in time?

Would he be bitter, or depressed, or angry...or all of them?

MacCready didn't let these thoughts linger for too long. He checked over his rifle once more before slinging it around his back.

"I'm gonna go hunting," he announced to Sturges.

The mechanic nodded and stood up to wipe his hands on a rag he kept tucked away in his pocket. "You might wanna take Preston with you. Be easier for two of ya to lug back a whole Stag."

"Where can I find him?"

"He's probably by the Vault with the General," Sturges pointed over to the hill behind the settlement, "I overheard them talking about digging the graves up on the hill."

MacCready hummed as he glanced over to the bank in question. He spotted a rusted guard tower peeking over the horizon, the sirens and alarms were silent and unmoving on the structure. "Graves, huh?" He chewed his bottom lip in thought.