Marvin had a sincere smile on his face as he walked away from the duo. That look of understanding from John and Frankie's comment made him a little giddy, but maybe that's just because it's a first for him to be cared about. However little it may be. It was an odd feeling to have someone in the group not want you to die. He was always the expendible member - someone who was just paid a certain amount of caps and only really was the muscle. The eye in the sky. The cover they need. If he died, oh well. If he lives, that's good. Perhaps having some people on your side wasn't too bad. Being the lone wolf wasn't always the correct way to do things.

When he saw that their Brotherhood leader began speaking through the radio, he quickly went on to get his mini-radio - something he had gotten from a mission from way back - and then tuned into their channel to listen to them. Once he was there, he placed it back into a safe place so it wouldn't get destroyed at the first hard bump onto his body. This way, he can at least listen to them since he didn't get a rad suit which apparently had built in communicators. As much as he wanted some of those, he didn't want to lug around that heavy suit when he didn't really need it. Oh well, right?

Marvin then looked back at their leader when she questioned him about the map. He took it out again, slinging his rifle on his shoulder for a moment. There was no danger. None yet, at the very least. He slowed down a bit as he looked at the map, moving at the pace of the Power Armored woman beside him. "Yeah, they're marked right here." He started. The map was already filled with symbols and their destination was there as well. "So we're right here and we need to get to here so..." He then traced his finger over the lines. "Closest station there is on East 23rd and Bronx River. We should exit there." He suggested with a small shrug before handing her the map so she could look at it as well and see what she thought about it.

He then looked back at the Power Armor the woman was using. Brotherhood armor. He hated seeing them before, when his ghoul appearance was more pronounce. There's always that eighty percent chance of being shot without even saying anything. It's one of the reasons why he's not on really good terms with their group, even if he was willing to take on some mercenary work for them. So really, being this close to her actually made him nervous. Her multitude of weaponry didn't help either. A sword and a spear - like holy crap those were more intimidating up close than they were through the scope. Marvin wanted to stay far away from the length of those weapons 'cause she can just sweep that and slice his head off.

Marvin then heard more chatter over the radio. Sounded like... "As much as I love to hear some juicy secrets with these communicators, I think you all should be careful about what you say." He then followed it up with a light chuckle. Maybe he'll have some fun here in the down time after all. He wondered what kind of things await for them aboveground. It was a little exciting.

@Alfhedil @Dread

Such a minor difference it seemed to be walking among what the Brotherhood would have called amateurs, the soft chatter over the radio provided a slight distraction from her thoughts of the journey ahead. Up ahead of them and staying on point, she let it be a reminder of those she was leading into a literal hell, and that she would need to protect over the course of their mission. It wasn't a bad distraction in that respect, and a smile came to her as she listened in on the difficulties involved by some who were not quite used to such things.

"The suits are mostly intact and pre-war from the looks of things, though not built for comfort." Khaliya called back, not even glancing behind her to one of the medics who was having a tougher time than most with her suit. "When we make camp I'll see if mine might fit you a little better. Since we're about the same height and all."

A little bit of help would go a long way she figured, and might dispel some of the hard feelings more than a few in the group had towards her and Jeremiah. Of him there was precious little, but she knew he was in the back and keeping watch, which was all she needed for now. First and foremost was figuring out where to go, and how long they needed to take the subway tunnels. Luckily Marvin was on point there and provided the map, showing her the marked areas on the island and immediately she had an intended route.

"Looks like about a mile or so until the first station exit, and another two miles to the more ideal station." At a decent pace they could make it within the hour, but there was no predicting the dangers above or below, especially once they passed the demarcation line that was the wall. More than that, again was the point of most of the group being in hazmat suits, and those were not conducive to extended physical exertion in the slightest. She had concerns to begin with over how they would hold up if the group needed to move in a hurry, but that was what a healthy supply of rad-x, rad-away and patch kits were for.

Behind the metal faceplate of her armor her expression was unknowable to the ghoul pathfinder, but she furrowed her brow deep in thought, taking the map for a moment to study it. "We should actually be coming up on…"

Khaliya went silent as a mechanical hum was just barely within their range of hearing, a sound that was distinct from her power armor's soft whine and hiss of hydraulics. This one was more distinctly mechanical, akin to gears shifting and grinding against each other in the distance, but also as if being heard underwater. The more she focused on the sound, the more disorientating it became, as if it was something that wasn't supposed to be heard. A wrongness about it set her teeth on edge, and she had to quickly adjust the filters on her armor to screen it out.

"It's the wall. The barrier that keeps everything in the Necropolis." She said at last, handing the map back to Marvin as she began moving again, unaware that she had stopped dead in her tracks for a good moment. "Let's get past it as fast as we can and get to the station, it would be best not to dwell beneath it."

@Dread @Polaris North

He heard the Brotherhood Star Paladin mention something about a wall of some sort. And apparently, it was a wall that keeps things INSIDE of the irradiated hellscape that is the ruins of New York. Walls were usually a good thing, meant to keep things out and protect you from all the nasty things that may want to eat your face. This wall didn't seem to be that kind of wall. "Abandon all hope, ye who enter here..." Emil muttered to himself. He might as well have entered the gates of the inferno itself considering the situation.

There was no need to dwell on the topic. Emil nods in agreement to the suggestion of the power-armored paladin and keeps his mind from wondering what kind of things were kept within the wall.

[ Fleetwood Subway Station ]

Even from the nondescript cover of his hazmat suit, John's stride and posture remained distinctly leisurely, hands awkwardly at his hips in a manner mimicking where his coat pockets once were, now a whole layer beneath the lead-lined and reinforced suit. Even after trying to adjust to it's feel, he - and others - still found themselves facing discomfort. His first steps were slow, deliberate thuds, a noisy gait that contrasted heavily with the lightweight maneuverability he'd prided himself on in years past.

Closer to the front of the pack, the small Paladin stopped to rendezvous with Marvin, almost certainly about the map he had taken from the storage kit. John silently wondered to himself how the two felt about working together. While his experience with the Brotherhood proper was slim-to-none outside general rumor and speculation, it was fairly common knowledge that all chapters, regardless of region, shared a certain disdain towards mutants of any kind. This disdain trickled through generations of soldiers, spreading to the point that even non-feral Ghouls were treated as lepers at best, and abominations to be shot on sight at worst.

'Leper, Outcast, Untouchable, Unclean, Castaway... Pariah.'

And John smirked softly under his helmet.

Still, he found the Brotherhood's nationalistic sense of superiority vexing. The world, and all the institutions that were part of it burned up in nuclear fire centuries ago. Human, Ghoul, Super Mutant...Synth, all of them were maggots, feasting off the life that was once there, writhing in the same patch of Old World ash.

He overheard the Paladin's next words, about a three-mile trek to reach the station. On paper, a walk that distance was hardly an issue - particularly for a group like this gathered together. It was what would await them on the trip that would provide the obstacles. Any manner of beasts lurked within the Necropolis. John had heard the stories, entire Brotherhood patrols going in only to never come out, ceaseless storms that would have put the Commonwealth's Glowing Sea to shame, factors that were all the more reason he had no business traveling within. Which was exactly what any rogue Synths would be thinking.

But then she stopped. It was sudden, alert, like when a suspicious sight or sound, just out of the corner of view processes itself in the mind. Whatever it was, John could hear it too. A hum, mechanical, but not hydraulic-based or fusion powered. It was like the inner mechanisms of a giant clock, yet it was distorted, as if the sound was filtered through a barrier. Whatever it was, it etched itself in his brain, leaving behind a God-awful ringing sound, as if the more he focused, the more his mind resisted -- or was it the sound resisting being heard?

After moments-- no, minutes? Seconds? The Paladin came to, and John with her. Whatever it was, it put her on high-alert. Their next motivation wasn't so much "make it to the station" as it was "get away from here." John wouldn't question it, he'd have been lying if he said he wasn't eager to escape the source of the noise, himself.

It was when one of the mercenaries recited a line from...something, something Old World, that John finally seemed himself again, his thoughts his own. The sign of present uncertainty had unbalanced him, thrown his mind off, but it returned as quickly as it had left, and John seemed none the different for it.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here." A bit too dramatic for John's own tastes, but he supposed he wasn't one to judge. His reply was a blunt, acerbic "Cute." And that was that.

---

---

[ Fleetwood Subway Station ]

Frankie was caught off guard by Khaliya’s low, even-toned voice over the comm once again, realizing a moment later that the Paladin was responding to the girl’s comment about the uncomfortable radiation suit. And what was even more surprising, the soldier’s offer of her own suit, which made the young medic make a weird face as though that was the most ridiculous thing she’d heard. The truth was, she was somewhat intimidated by the woman, by her position, the hulking power armor, and frankly not quite ready to start exchanging clothes with a stranger, regardless of similar stature.

“Um.” She cleared her throat as a slight nervous chuckle escaped, feeling a little awkward at the previous -and unintentional- broadcast into the open channel of the radio. “Thanks, but I think I'll be fine, ma’am. Like you said, they're ‘not built for comfort’.” The sheepish grin still plastered on her face was, of course, lost to those not standing directly in front of her, hidden mostly by the suit’s protective helmet.

The young girl surveyed the surroundings, trying to keep her mind occupied and focused enough on the journey, without having to worry about such trivial matters as “wardrobe malfunction”. Without admitting it though, she was part excited and part afraid, but it was fear of the unknown that always seemed to break a person down more than being aware. If fear gave a person wings, then she should already being flying her skinny ass out of there, but that wasn't why she was summoned to the group. She had a gift to heal, and while she may be terrible at calming her own nerves, she’d make damn sure that everyone else was taken care of.

There was always the pain killers...

Frankie sighed when Khaliya mentioned how much further they'd have to go. Sure, what was another couple of miles in the grand scheme of things? They most likely had several miles to cover before reaching their destination. If there even was a destination.

Just breathe. She mentally repeated a few times, knowing that the helmet radio’s channel was open, and she didn't really need to broadcast any of her negative thoughts into voice. No doubt she probably came off like a young, immature, and inexperienced basketcase to most of the group. Like, why the hell is the kid here??

Yeah well this kid will keep your dumbasses from bleed all over the place, and perhaps even long enough to live and tell about it.

A wall? She overheard Khaliya on the comms once again after several moments of silence, as clearly we all heard the odd humming emanating from somewhere. It also sounded like we’d be picking up the pace a bit just to slip past whatever was bugging the Paladin about the mysterious wall.

"Let's just hope we don't run into much trouble." Marvin commented as he walked beside the Paladin. Hoping that trouble wasn't at every corner of this place was like hoping for a miracle - or even hoping that he'd be human again. It was just impossible. They weren't under any time limit so there was no worries there. He was not looking forward to what they might potentially see and fight during their adventure. He's fought Deathclaws, sure, but who knew what inhabits the inner places of the Necropolis.

As the map was taken from him, he let his hand rest on the strap of his rifle and tilted his head when the Paladin had stopped abruptly, as if something was wrong. He looked towards her, not knowing the emotion her face held thanks to the mask hiding it, and then that was when he heard it. It was a low hum. He could barely hear it and wouldn't have noticed it if Khaliya hadn't stopped.

He began to furrow his eyebrows as he continued to listen to this... mechincal sound. Marvin couldn't say what exactly was wrong with it, but his instincts were telling him to get the hell out of there. The more he tried to listen to it, the more it messed with him. It was like hearing grinding gears underwater, distorted somehow. And he couldn't block the sound out. His grip on the strap of his rifle tightened but was snapped out of it when Khaliya finally spoke up again and handed him back the map.

"The wall, huh?" He then folded the map quickly and put it in his coat's inner pocket and then nodded. "Agreed. That wall sure is doing a mighty good job with trying to keep everything separated..." He muttered, well aware that the radio could pick up on what he was saying. Frankly, he didn't care about it. Let them hear that he wasn't completely sure about getting out of there alive. The wall was just the beginning. This was when things get way worse.

He turned back to look at the group. Some of them reacted to the sound. Or at least, he assumed they did through their body language. He couldn't exactly see their faces thanks to the helmets the rad suits had. Looks like it'll be difficult to read any faces this tiem around. No studying other people and their reactions then. The suits don't exactly give much out either considering how bulky they were. He was the only one here who was in complete display.

Well, at least he didn't have to worry about being inhibited by said suits. He heard that moving around those was a nightmare and a half. He snickered but hid it under his hand. Who said being a ghoul was a bad thing?

Bailey listens in on conversations through the radio and notices her hand is shaking from the pent up adrenaline, to calm herself she starts singing one of the marching cadences each trooper learnt in basic training. Her voice croaks at first but she soon breaks into song.

"Airborne Ranger, Airborne Ranger, where have you been?
Around the world and back again.

Airborne Ranger, Airborne Ranger, how did ya go?
In a VB-02 flying low.

Airborne Ranger, Airborne Ranger, how’d u get down?
With a Bravo-Hotel big and round.

Airborne Ranger, Airborne Ranger, what did you do?
I killed a Mutie for me and you.

Airborne Ranger, Airborne Ranger, how’d you get back?
In a black and gold body bag."

Bailey stays in her part of the group and keeps glancing over at the BoS traitors, She silently contemplates methods of killing them from pushing them into a radioactive lake to fragging them.

Monika walked along keeping to her position in the group. Occasionally fiddling with her suit which was designed for someone a bit larger than her, then again years of malnutrition tended to make one a bit thinner than normal. As concentrated as she appeared, she could certainly feel that her eyes were starting to go together. Walking for this long without the ability to use her cigarettes as a crutch to keep her concentration up was definitely taking its toll on her.

That was until she saw the wall up close. She had already seen it from when she arrived outside the subway, but then it was far away and looked rather small. But up close, it was huge and imposing. The thought of what lay on the other side sent a shiver down her spine. Looking around she still found little comfort with the company that had undertaken the mission with her which only worsened her mood.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here..." She recognised the words that Emil spoke, they were from one of the books she had glanced through while exploring the university in Hartford shortly before her encounter with the Brotherhood "Certainly fitting Emil." Monika said into the radio in a flat tone while raising her head in bewilderment of the wall in front of her.

Hearing the Paladins instructions, she put her head back down and pressed onward into the abyss with the group. Not knowing if she or any of them would make it back out in one piece. Both physically and mentally this was going to be one of the biggest challenges of her life, but she was ready to sacrifice it all for his future.

"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."

Those words settled uneasily among the group, almost as much as that strange sound that had dissipated the moment they passed the invisible barrier. Already a few of the mercs were looking fit to bolt, nervous eyes glancing back and forth as they scanned the tunnel walls. Where before in the station the tunnel had been almost pristine save for a few blemishes here and there, now that they were fully within the Necropolis cracks spread across the ceiling showing the stresses of the Great War. It had been rumored that the reason for such a dense field of radiation around and inside the city was multiple direct impacts, but it had never been confirmed. Khaliya spared the group a grim chuckle as she thought of how they may be the ones to put rumor to the test.

As it stood, they could use something to distract themselves from the imminent danger lurking around that next bend in the subway, and for sure above ground itself. Luckily she didn't have to improvise as a voice came across the radio channel, singing a simple cadence that seemed to help out a little bit. Bailey was her name, a quick glance behind her finding the woman with her weapon at the ready. Putting her at her back was a risk, especially if Jeremiah's concerns had grounds, but she needed to break away from the assumptions that the two of them were here for their own glories. The Brotherhood had enough issues and public relations was one of the biggest ones of late, if the group felt that they were there to seize the tech, then things would get very ugly in a hurry.

At the very least it seemed that their resident ghoul was assured that he wasn't going to be executed, something she knew was more common than she was comfortable with. A quick signal to him showed that she was turning off the group channel, and she slowed a moment so that she could speak more directly.

"Don't quite think I caught your name earlier, and since you've got our back with that rifle, I would be remiss if I didn't properly introduce myself." Khaliya extended her right hand out to him, palm up and inviting. "Khaliya Bertrand, or if you're one for formalities then Star-Paladin works just as well. That or just shout for some armor. I know that we're not too good with your people, but in here…" She knew he would understand what she was meaning by "we", the turning of her helm indicating her husband bringing up the rear of the group.

"Prior allegiances don't matter when it comes down to the mission, and more importantly survival. Most of the group here won't know anything more than the basic rumors, and I figure the westerners might not even know that. I want to make sure we take this slow and carefully, avoid as much danger as possible. The fewer risks we take up there, the greater the chances that we all get out of this hellhole alive."

As they walked, her headlamp illuminated the tunnel ahead, other lights flickering on and off along the walls and in the distance a brighter sign. It was the next station, and for a moment she had wondered if it had really been that long since they began, or if it was just closer in reality. So far nothing had happened beyond the idle chatter, not even a feral sighting or signs of recent activity. In fact… There were no signs of the tunnel being used by anything in a long while, likely since the bombs fell and there was no longer a need for it. A safe and stable route in and out of the city, uninhabited by feral ghouls, stray mirelurks or even radroaches… What is going on here? Khaliya was troubled by the very distinct lack of habitation, up until they were coming up on the first station.

The reason why became evident quite immediately, to the point where again she stopped. Before the group was a tunnel collapse, a subway car embedded in the rubble with just a narrow passage leading deeper. There was no way to tell just how far that path could lead, if it was just that single car, or if the entire train was open. Nor was there any way to know if the collapse was local or extended beyond what they could see. Khaliya went back to the open channel, turning to address the group.

"It looks like when the bombs dropped and the subway trains lost power, this one derailed and impacted the wall. There's a path through, but unless someone wants to scout it, we can't risk entering the carriage. We'll have to go above ground here."

Other than their encounter with the wall keeping things inside of the city, the tunnel trek was uneventful...almost too much so. Routes like these were few and far in between. Though Emil would be lying to himself if he did not admit he appreciated the lack of hostile things trying to tear his face off. They then approached the reason why things were so quiet. A train had derailed and smashed into the wall. There was a small and narrow passage, but other than that passage, there seemed to be no other way through.

"It looks like when the bombs dropped and the subway trains lost power, this one derailed and impacted the wall. There's a path through, but unless someone wants to scout it, we can't risk entering the carriage. We'll have to go above ground here."

The idea of going above ground didn't sit very well with Emil. One little mistake that gets your suit damaged too bad and that's the end of it. Though the narrow path ahead seemed to be the only path he would willingly take, though as the paladin mentioned. They didn't know what dwelt past the collapsed tunnel nor what things were inside of the train itself. Emil decided then and there, creepy narrow passage trumps irradiated hell. "If you guys need people to scout the path ahead, I'll be the first to volunteer." Emil was fine with the idea of going alone but he would appreciate it if he had a partner to join him. It would drastically decrease the likelihood of an untimely death because he can't see what's behind him. "...though I think it would be wise if I have someone accompanying me."

Marvin was now happily whistling to himself as he moved forward with the group. It seemed that he had moved on from the eerie sound from earlier. There was no use dwelling on the past when your future is so bleak. He wanted to just take in the peaceful moment because he was pretty damn sure that this wasn't going to last. Others felt jittery, and the century old ghoul felt like he was having the time of his life.

So far, no one has shot anyone yet. So that was good, right? No one's going all bat shit crazy and shooting up those who they don't trust - especially the ones in the factions. He wasn't sure who had their own beliefs in this group, others were obvious but others were... less so. Sure, there were some of them who seemed to be mercenaries. John looked like a private investigator and hopefully wasn't tied down to a faction. Frankie, as a medic, wouldn't be bothered with allegiances he imagined. Being healed is an equal opportunity thing, after all.

His eyes drifted to the Paladin who made a gesture about the radio. She turned hers off. Private conversation it would seem. He reached inside his coat to turn his off as well. She asked for an introduction. He didn't mind. As he said before, being a sniper, the group needed to give him at least a semblance of trust that he wouldn't blow their heads off. Though, he doubted the Paladin would be too worried about that considering her armor. He'd have to take some big risks just to take down someone who is in full Power Armor.

"Marvin Hiller, or Spectre, if you prefer code names." He replied, taking her hand and shaking it. It was an odd sight, he imagined, for a ghoul to be shaking hands with a Star Paladin of the Brotherhood of Steel. After that, he released her hand and then placed it back on his rifle. "Miss Khaliya then." He said with a small nod to himself, as if he was mentally telling himself to remember her name.

He gave a small smile to the Paladin as she went on to tell him - to reassure him - that her being a Brotherhood Paladin did not matter right now. Then, she went on to tell about working together. Marvin then let out a light chuckle, as if what she had just said was a joke. "I assure you, Miss Khaliya, that I am well aware that you're not here on Brotherhood business. And even if you are, I simply do not care. As long as you will not kill me, then you're good in my books." While he wouldn't completely be at ease around her, he certainly wasn't feeling as queasy as the others. "I won't cause any trouble, if that's what you're worried about. We're all buddies now, Miss Khaliya. Hopefully the others feel the same way."

With that, he returned to his normal walking and turned on his radio. It was true. Her reassurances were not needed at all. Marvin could at least trust those that don't shoot him the moment they see him. And if that was a Brotherhood Paladin, then so be it. He could work with them procided they reciprocated the feeling. Though, he wasn't sure what the others thought of each other. He knew that John and Frankie won't betray them. They seem to only really wish to finish the job as well. He took a look back at them but only for a few seconds.

They came upon an overturned train making it impossible to pass through the side. Looked like they'd either have to walk inside individually or go up like Khaliya said. Like the others, he wasn't exactly comfortable with going up since most of the horrors of the Necropolis is sure to be up there. Khaliya asked if someone wanted to scout the train and someone stepped up for it. And then another volunteered to go with him as well. A duo. Perfect. Now if only there was nothing on the other side.

He turned back to the entrance. "Good luck, you two. Come back alive, yeah?" He then looked back at Khaliya. "Want me to set up so I have a good view of that entrance? Just in case something comes down chasing these two?" He questioned. He wasn't clumsy enough to shoot his own allies, or even take that risk shot if he wasn't sure he can do it. But even in that cramped area, he does feel like he could get a few shots in if the two are in trouble.

@Alfhedil

Monika watched on as Emil and the quiet girl who never introduced herself went down the narrow passage to scout ahead. She knew it had to be done, as going above ground was not exactly desirable and so far they hadn't encountered a thing that wanted to kill them. Monika sighed with relief that she could take a minute or two to relax while they scouted ahead. All of a sudden she became overcome by lightheadedness which made her slouch back against the wall behind her.

She looked down at her suit and noticed a small tear in the right leg. "Shit, must have caught it on something on the way." she thought to herself. As she took her pack off to reach in and get the repair kit out she noticed a set of feet in front of her, clad in Centurion boots. She looked up and saw Lucius, her captor, her tormentor, her abuser. His face was still bloody and his neck still had the Machete wound she made in when she escaped. He looked down at her with pure rage in his eyes. "You know you can never escape me, I own you, I branded you and that little brat of ours, Vacca stulta." He raised his leg as if to kick her and Monika closed her eyes and braced for the impact. "NO! futue te ipsum!" She exclaimed in return.

She waited for what felt like an eternity for the impact of the kick yet it never came. She opened her eyes and the monster standing in front of her had dissapeared. She realised that it had all been an illusion, a figment of her imagination brought about by whatever had gotten into her suit. She looked up to see some of the others looking down at her and although she couldn't see their faces through their helmets she could tell most of those who looked had utter surprise on their faces at the seemingly alien language she had just uttered in front of them. She was also glad they could not see her face for the tears coming from her eyes would have been most unbecoming.

Quickly patching her suit up she retook her place in the formation she did her best to hide from the gazes of the others and began muttering to herself "Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why the hell did you ever think he was real you know he's dead you killed him." She let out a sigh and tilted her head back and began thinking of ways she could either avoid questions or explain what just happened in a way that others would understand when the group stopped to rest when night fell.

---

---

The wall. Why did it feel more like a tomb than protection?

That thought crossed her mind more than once, and yet did she seem to let it dissuade her from committing to the path laid out in front of her? Not in the slightest. But, that didn't mean Frankie was going to plunge into a mess without first taking all the necessary precautions possible. The suit was certainly about as good as it was going to get, and shielding from deadly radiation trumped comfort any day, so she dealt with the issue like a champ. Personal protection? Along with her a 9mm pistol, a combat knife, and an old wooden quarterstaff, it was all she had to keep a fair distance between her and whatever monsters awaited her. However, she also knew that John and Marvin recognized her less-than-perfect combat abilities and would grant her the cover she needed to at least survive.

“Wow, depressing.” Frankie muttered, reacting to the low singing from one of the group members, the morbid words and tonality having really no effect on uplifting the girl's spirits. Of course, how could such song lyrics lift anyone up?

Up ahead, she noticed Khaliya and Marvin locked in some discussion, and hopefully -the medic thought- a good strategy to get everyone through the journey with little to no casualties. Sure, she was good at her job, but at the same time, didn't want to patch up a wound just so her patient could go run back out into the fray with reckless abandon. Frankie had seen enough of that while imprisoned with Raiders, forced to sew up torn skin, cauterize lost limbs, pull out bullets and fragments, and a myriad of very bloody procedures just so the idiots could go back out and do it all over again. But she figured this group to be much more sensible…

Khaliya’s update on the situation seemed rather grim, but doable, considering there was an alternative. Thankfully Frankie didn’t have deal with the awkwardness of being stuck deciding whether she should volunteer herself for scouting, considering she was small enough to go unnoticed. But, as it happened, not one, but two of the group members stepped up only moments after the call, and began heading toward the front, Frankie nodding to the new girl as she passed. The medic quickly turned her attention toward the area where another one of the younger female team members, who had and rather weird and unexpected outburst before she fell silent again.

Arching an eyebrow, Frankie sighed as she returned her attention to the front of the group, and took a few deep breaths to even out any buried anxiety.

This was already turning out to be an interesting trip…

Before them the railcar's twisted carriage lay buried in the rubble exactly as it had died two-hundred years before, every slight sound carrying in a soft echo through the darkness within. As the tunnel prior, there were no signs of recent habitation, only the dead still seated or strewn across the floor in heaps. Here and there luggage racks had popped open, suitcases dangling precariously and threatening to fall with just the slightest jostling. Luckily neither were enough to sway the subway car too much, though it was clear if the group chose this route they would need to clear the way for their power-armored escorts. It was confined almost unbearably so, the weight of the tunnel above crushing the roof and sides to compress into a space barely passable single-file in the hazmat suits.

Only careful and steady going would allow them through the darkness, the silence interrupted by the increasing click of their geiger counters. As soon as they had stepped aboard, it had increased from the rather balmy and comfortable +15 rads at an exponential rate, until by the time they had crossed the divider it was clicking at an angry +150. Khaliya stood watch just at the end of the railcar with the rest of the group, her headlamp illuminating the thin passageway.

"No risks, just take a look out the other end and come back." That said, she turned to Marvin and nodded in acknowledgement, stepping to the side and putting a hand to her blade to stay at the ready just in case. If anything did give chase, it would find a face full of lead and a sword in its chest before getting to the rest of the group.

[ New York City Metro - Blue Line ]

"Great. One's a poet and one's a singer."

John couldn't help but scoff softly underneath his helmet. The mercenaries with them were hardly grizzled veterans. Their fear, anxiety, it bled out of them like an open wound. John didn't know much about any of them and didn't quite care to. They were chatty, uneasy, eyes alert but never seeming to look past the surface. At least not to him. He couldn't help it, the years spent noticing flaws, discrepancies. It ruined him. For hours he could stare at a painting, ignore the imagery, the beauty, and see only a crack in the fault line, a slight discoloration where the painter had made an all-but-unnoticeable mistake. To never see beyond that, appreciate the painting for it's message: that was John's punishment.

As the group walked, John's movements seemed to finally settle into a gait comparable to his own outside the hazmat suit. His muscles moved themselves while he was lost in thought, working far better together than his own mind could do. The weight of the suit wasn't a hindrance but a factor, one that was dealt with accordingly. Whatever it was, in those brief moments of unconscious control, John had forgotten he was wearing a suit at all.

At the front of the group, Marvin was once more speaking with the head Paladin. But this had to be more than just business: they had just gone over the map minutes earlier-- least what felt like minutes. But now she was offering her hand to shake. Trying to read the body language of someone wearing Power Armor was about as effective as shooting it with a BB gun. All he could see were the layers of steel and pistons, the curved features of the helmet, somehow dispassionate, yet wrathful. Nevertheless, her action said enough, an attempt at acclimating herself. No doubt, the Paladin was smart enough to know just how the Brotherhood was viewed by the others, and was probably attempting to actively change that image, first with Frankie, then with Marvin.

Though, immediately going for the token teenager and Ghoul of the group seemed rather on-the-nose, least in John's mind. But, if that was on-the-nose, then what was he?

"Starting to turn hypocrite, old man. Losing your touch." He thought to himself with a bitter humor.

Finally leaving his thoughts be to focus on the mission at hand, it had settled in just how...quiet everything was. It was a twisted irony: nothing around, no Raider, or Ghoul, or even a Radroach scuttling about, yet the air was somehow more tense, a palpable sense of unease. John felt the fingers at his right hand twitch, an unconscious muscle response to impending danger, usually would happen right before he went for his gun. Damn it all, it was affecting him too.

The group finally came to the sight of a massive tunnel collapse, one that stopped them dead in their tracks. Now, they had two options: either head above ground, or send a poor, lost soul or two inside the tunnel to scout it out. A test of altruism, then. John said nothing to the Paladin's subtle request, instead leaning his back up against the tunnel wall in a half-resting position. He'd watch what would play out.

Almost immediately, one of the mercenaries from the trio volunteered himself. Looks like they found their hero. Then someone else volunteered to accompany him. Jesus, had they snuck into the group? This person, this voice, it was unfamiliar. He hadn't remembered seeing them in the tunnel before moving past the Wall. Either she was that good at hiding, or he was losing his touch.

With a mere shrug of response at the possibility of either, John's attention immediately turned to one of the other mercenaries: the red-headed one from earlier...at least, he was 90% sure it was that one - Christ, he hated these suits.

There was a tear in her suit, at the right leg, immediately causing her to take notice and grab a patch. Torn this early in...never a good sign. But then she stopped, froze, like locking eyes with a wild animal. Then she cried out, a different language, John couldn't have told you which, prompting him to shoot up from his place against the wall.

John grimaced under his helmet as the woman seemed to recover and get back to her feet, trying to blend into the group as she had once before. But something told John that wasn't going to be possible. Whatever that was, whether nerves or...something deeper, John wasn't exactly fond of it. No, these mercs weren't grizzled veterans, that much was now clear. Too human to be that.

Servius had lingered towards the rear of the group, listening to their conversations where possible while acting as a rear guard. It seemed as though removing the more overtly legion symbology had worked - or they just hadn't noticed before he'd put on the hazmat suit. Either way, it was not a moment too soon either, as some of them seemed more than hostile; He had half wanted to defend the legion against the allegations it had simply collapsed into small tribes... The truth was a tad more complex than that. Civil wars often were. Still, he managed to hold his tongue as they pressed on. Others had seperate rivalries that seemed to burn almost as deep, and there was something of a lack of confidence in their leader due to her connections to the BoS. This seemed much too fractious to work together for long, nobody seemed to trust each other...

Hazmat suits. Not exactly the most comfortable things on the planet. He exhales heavily as he geared up, thinking about their task. Descending into some pre-war building sounded like an excellent way to encounter some of those damnable machines or ghouls. He dwelt on the thought of the Pariah for a moment, puzzling something out in his head before moving on. This whole thing was sitting more uncomfortably with him as he got closer...

Rebuilding American under a single flag. He couldn't really comprehend the idea, to tell the truth. No legion, no NCR, no brotherhood. After an entire life spent in that dichotomy, the idea that it would be different just seemed too foreign. And the promise too much like Caesar's own pipe dream of taking New Vegas. Perhaps it was possible to finally bring some peace and safety across the continent... But people would resist. The NCR wasn't about to quietly submit to a New America, that much he could be certain. He'd spent his entire life bringing order, safety and civilisation across the wastes and rarely had it been embraced quickly and willingly.

***

Abandon all hope, ye who enter here

Servius laughed a little at that one. "Here be deathclaws, per chance?" He murmured darkly, checking his rifle quickly. As the scouts went ahead, Servius tried to make out each member of the group. He hated this damn hazmat suit, but from the sounds of the clicking he'd be dead already without it.

Above ground didn't sound too bad to him right now, provided it wasn't radioactive sludge. He wanted to feel the air, he wasn't exactly comfortable down here. Still, he could see the tactical value in it and was glad to see two of the others volunteer. He thought of it himself, but two seemed the best fit, else they may as well all just walk in anyway.

Mars guard them, he silently prayed

He checked his weapons quickly, so that if they were caught out by something he'd be ready for the fight. All seemed loaded and good to go, which eased him slightly but didn't vanquish the concern. There was no life here, at all. Not even a creature. Everything was way too quiet-

Spoke too soon, evidently!

A loud shout drew his attention go the side and he brought his rifle up, ready to fire at whatever the threat was- yet he couldn't see anyone or anything. He cautiously lower it slightly and advanced a few paces, shining his flashlight over. Although he couldn't make out any features, the voice and the latin led him to the conclusion that if was that former slave girl... Yet he couldn't see any threats to her.

"Is everything okay over there?" Servius called across, his hands tightly wrapped around his gun. Maybe something had just startled her, a rad roach or rat or something - though why shout in Latin, that didn't make sense. Deep inside, he wanted it to be a creature of some kind; even in the Mojave, there was life around. Here there was just... Death.

But she was just huddled up as though a primal animal cowering before a monster, as a slave before a wrathful legionary or as a wastelander before a deathclaw. He remained motionless for a few moments, unsure on what ezactly to do - and then she unfurled and appeared to be quietly mumbling to herself.

As she stood up and headed back over to the formation, Servius tracked her with his gaze. He dared to take another step in advance so he was some 10 feet from where she had been slumped , and leant to the side to peer around... No, there wasn't anything there at all. Just dust.

With a light grunt, Servius turned his back on the corner and headed back over to the group. He couldn't see her face, but from the way she was avoiding looking towards anyone he guessed she was a bit shaken up still. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again, thinking better of pressing her on the matter; that would only make it worse, and the group needed to be able to rely on her.

Servius could see some of the others looking at her, including the grizzled detective and the younger medic (at least, he thought that was them. It was difficult to tell with the suits on) Probably the last thing she wanted right now. He grimaced beneath the visor of his hazmat suit, he knew that feeling and it wasn't pretty for ones mental state or morale.

Maybe he could help ensure her a reprieve by stimulating a different conversation. He jumped straight into asking about the consulate, even though he wasn't particularly knowledgeable on the matter. The USSR, were they the Chinese or the Russians? Why was old world politics so damn obscure.

"So, what do you all think we'll find in this consulate? USSR - those were one of America's rivals, weren't they? I don't think they would leave any vital data or blueprints of their own in enemy territory so what do you think they had hiding down there that the Pariah wants? They got some documents through espionage maybe? Stolen prototypes?" He finished, looking around the group quizzically. He'd rarely have asked questions like this - it wasn't in the legions nature to dwell on what they were ordered to do, only to do it. Obviously whatever it was would be important, along with everything else in this city; nobody in their right mind would have assembled such a diverse group if not, it was doubtlessly a large investment to have tracked everyone down and brought them together here.

As the group approached the partial collapse Bailey leveled her weapon, pointing it down the train carriage and stepped carefully forward until she was level with the Paladin. She dropped down on her right knee into a more stable firing position keeping a vigilant watch into the darkness ahead, It's hard not to notice the Damp, Musty smell of the Pre-War tunnels she could smell it even through the suits filter system.

She knew that if the Tunnels were anything like the ones in D.C then they'll be infested with Ghouls and with this high level of radiation there would likely be more than one of the highly dangerous "Glowing Ones" as the Wastelanders called them. The Enclave assigned alphanumeric designations to wasteland flora and fauna.

Looking into the darkness ahead she can't help but remember the many patrols she spent in the tunnels under the D.C area, The one that killed her brother, the one that took her to the abandoned White House and the operations to seal the tunnels under the Purifier. The death of her brother sticks with her the most cause that was the only member of family she saw die with her own eyes, her sister's body was never recovered after the Vertibird Crash and her parents are assumed dead in Raven Rock.

She shakes her head as if to clear her mind and focuses back on the task at hand and the potential threats lurking in the shadows ahead.

"Is everything okay over there?"

"That voice, the tone, the accent. It couldn't be, surely not this far East." Monika thought to herself as she continued to avoid looking at the others in the group. She wasn't 100% sure that she heard it right. Then he spoke again.

"So, what do you all think we'll find in this consulate? USSR - those were one of America's rivals, weren't they? I don't think they would leave any vital data or blueprints of their own in enemy territory so what do you think they had hiding down there that the Pariah wants? They got some documents through espionage maybe? Stolen prototypes?"

Now she was certain. It was him, she couldn't remember the name and couldn't see his face to get a proper ID but she'd never forgotten the voice. How could she, she was sure he was an important man, the dumbass headdress he wore would certainly suggest it. Last time she saw him he was getting kicked in the stomach by Lucius for something or other, she tended to turn off when she wasn't being addressed directly.

The voice hadn't changed a bit. The man she saw "save" a slave girl from being raped. His face looked disgusted at the thought of what was about to happen to the girl. It made Monika slightly hopeful. Hopeful that all Legionaries weren't scum. Of course given half the chance, she'd quite happily put a bullet or two in him. He was at the end of the day still a walking, talking embodiment of the most horrific part of her life so far. But that moment has stayed with her for all these years. And occasionally reminds here that maybe, just maybe a diamond can be found in any amount of rough.