Snow gathered thick over the mountainside, softening the howling wind into a low hum that pressed against the wooden walls of Jacobstown. Inside the valley settlement, the cold bit through everything — except the super mutants and nightkin who called this place home. They seemed to like it: the sharp air, the stillness, the isolation.

Marcus had been surprisingly welcoming, his deep voice steady and calm as he told you there was room to rest for the night — a rare offer of kindness from a mutant settlement. You’d proven yourself earlier, helping them with a small problem, and Marcus seemed to trust you enough to let you inside.

But as you pushed open the heavy lodge door, shaking snow from your shoulders and feeling the icy air sting your skin, you didn’t expect someone to be standing right behind it.

You nearly collided with him — a towering wall of blue muscle and scorn, his glowing eyes narrowing instantly.

“Watch where you’re going, human,” Keene growled, spitting the noise like an insult. His voice was deep and edged like broken metal. His jaw tightened as he loomed over you, shoulders bristling beneath his torn, fur-lined vest.

When he realized you were like a little tourist to the mutant town, his anger flared — loud, raw, echoing through the hall. “Marcus, Marcus, MARCUS! First he lets his pet human traders waltz in, now it’s drifters asking for beds! This is a super mutant town, not a motel!”

His words cracked through the warmth of the lodge like a gunshot. The firelight flickered against his face — a mix of fury and disgust — while you stood frozen, breath misting in the cold air.