This town was the pits.

Nick Valentine had never seen such a dump before. It was like a bomb hit the place or something. Nick kept glancing through the empty buildings, hoping to find something to clue him into where he was and what was going on. He did manage to learn that the town he was in was called Compton, and it rested somewhere on the outskirts of Boston. He found some old, decaying newspapers that listed the date as October 23rd, 2077.

When Nick saw the date, he had to admit he was floored. If the newspapers were right (and there was no reason they shouldn't be) then he was missing nearly a year of his life. He couldn't even imagine what his friends on the force were thinking right now about him. Did they think he was missing? Dead? Nick was fortunate, at least, that he had no close ties anymore. His parents were long past, his brother estranged, and Jenny...well, Jenny was gone too.

But what had happened in his absence? Just what the heck was going on here? Nick wasn't sure what was more confusing-the fact that he was somehow now trapped inside a robot, or the fact that he was in some strange bombed-out town nearly a year after the last point he remembered.

Nothing to do but keep going forward. Remember the steps, Nick, he kept reminding himself. No use bogging yourself down with too many questions at once.

Nick finally scored dirt when he found an old boutique off the main street of town. Robot or not, he could sure use some proper clothes. The boutique was as hollowed-out and decayed as the rest of the town, but Nick found a basement that still had a number of clothes boxed up in storage. He shifted through the boxes until he managed to find a plain button-down shirt in good condition. He slipped it on, and even managed to find himself a tie. Nick was a tie-and-suit kind of guy, always had been. Jenny used to joke that he'd been born in a suit.

I may be stuck inside a robot, stranded in a wasteland of a town, but I'll be damned if I don't at least look presentable.

Nick was rummaging through the counters, looking for anything loot-able, when he suddenly heard something shift from the corner of the room.

Nick froze, instantly on alert. The sound had come from a large pile of debris near a half-collapsed wall. There was no electricity, obviously, but Nick found his eyesight naturally switching into the night vision spectrum as he struggled to look into the shadowed corner.

Handy, that.

Something was moving inside the pile of debris, waking up. Whatever it was didn't sound too small. Rats, probably. Normally Nick wouldn't be afraid of some rats scurrying around, but given how his day was going so far he decided to err on the side of caution. He looked around for something he might use as a weapon, eventually locating a broken metal pole that looked like it might have once been part of a clothes rack. The broken part was sharp enough. It'd have to work.

And it might be entirely unnecessary. Still, Nick inched closer to the debris pile. He heard a scurrying, clicking sound. Rats, gotta be.

"Hey!" he shouted, deciding maybe he could scare it off. "Whatever you are, scram!"

The shifting stopped.

Nick lowered the pole a few inches. He hesitated, taking a step back, wondering if maybe it was gone.

Suddenly, something exploded from the pile of debris, a giant blur of pink and teeth that threw itself at him. Nick cried out and threw his arm up. He managed to knock it aside and throw himself backward, stumbling, still not quite used to his new robotic limbs.

The thing fell on its back but quickly recovered. It was a rodent, but it was the biggest rodent Nick had ever seen, closer to the size of your average dog. It was hairless and pink, and it had huge front teeth that looked like it could easily rip him in two. The claws were long and curved, and skittered across the wooden floor as the creature prepared itself for another go at him.

Knowing this thing was spoiling for a fight (and possibly looking at him for lunch, not that Nick thought his new synthetic skin and innards would be all that tasty) Nick aimed the broken metal pole like a spear and advanced slowly on the rodent. He was reminded of a time back when he was still in uniform in Chicago, and had to corner a rabid dog that had just killed its owner.

The giant rodent lounged at him, and Nick stabbed the pole forward. The broken sharp edge managed to catch the rodent in the belly right as it jumped at him. Giant teeth were suddenly precariously close to Nick's face as the pole slid in, and Nick suddenly found himself with a skewered rat.

The thing still thrashed madly, even as it bled out on the pole. The thing was also ridiculously heavy, and it took all the strength in Nick's new robotic limbs to heave the thing off of him. The teeth had managed to make contact with his shoulder and nick through his nice new shirt. The teeth tore off a good three-inch layer of skin before Nick could push the creature off of him.

Nick didn't feel any pain, which was odd. But at the same time, words flashed across the invisible screen in front of his eyes as a diagnostic test was run, assessing the damage and recording the loss. No major structures impaired, just a skin tear.

While his body ran through its damage assessment, Nick looked down at the screaming creature as it died. He didn't feel much pity for it. If he could breathe, he'd be breathing hard now. He'd just had the scare of his life.

What was that thing? Nick had never seen any rodent so large. He was pretty sure they didn't make them that big, not under normal circumstances.

But Nick was quickly starting to suspect that he was not under anything like normal circumstances.

Again, that question flew around his brain, that big question. Just what the hell is going on!?

Just keep moving forward. Gotta keep moving. Nightfall wasn't too far away, and he wasn't exactly keen to find out if there were more creatures like the one here. He needed to leave this town and find civilization. Boston. Home.

He left the creature and the boutique store.

By the time the sun had set, Nick was well on the other side of town. He'd been hoping to find some sort of civilization he could work with-a working phone booth, an abandoned car, but it was no dice. The only abandoned cars he found had been blown out in the same explosion that seemed to have obliterated the town, and rust had long turned them into nothing but junk. The buildings started to get sparse as Nick found himself on a small, lonely highway. He took heart, however, when he found a half-broken highway sign telling him that Boston was in fifty miles.

Not the worst distance, assuming he could eventually find some transportation. As the sky got darker and the stars came out, Nick was grateful he couldn't seem to feel temperature anymore than he could pain. He had no idea if it was cold or hot out right now, but that was just one less thing to worry about.

Nick was walking down the highway for several hours when he caught something miraculous-the flicker of fire light.

Thank heavens! Nick thought as he picked up his pace, heading toward the light that was further down the highway. Civilization at last!

Nick never thought he'd heard anything more beautiful than the murmur of voices that grew as he approached what appeared to be a camp on the middle of the highway. There were a half-dozen people scattered around a large fire appeared to be made out of wooden debris. They were dressed in a mix of worn leathers and threadbare clothes. They looked like bikers, though Nick didn't see any motorcycles around.

"Hey, fellas!" Nick called out as he approached the camp. Finally, things were starting to look up.

That is, until Nick suddenly saw the steely-eyes of a line of pistols aiming toward his face. Almost in unison, all of the campers had abruptly halted their conversation and rounded on him, weapons out.

"Whoa!" Nick threw his hands in the air. "I come in peace, and all that. Chill, fellas. I could actually use your help."

"He's an Institute Synth!" One of the campers hollered back to the others. "Open fire!"

Well, that didn't sound good. Fortunately this wasn't the first time Nick had suddenly found himself used for target practice. His robotic limbs responded to his command and he jumped out of the way, ducking behind a nearby burnt-out car just as the zip of bullets flew his way.

"Hey!" Nick shouted as the bullets took a pause. "I'm not-I'm not trying to hurt you! I know I might look a bit strange-"

"Kill him!" the campers cried, and the bullets resumed, pinging against the metal vehicle.

Perfect. As if his day couldn't get any better. Nick was trapped behind this car, clutching only a broken metal pole that might as well be a leaf against the bullets that were headed his way. It was only a matter of time before the goons circled around the car and put an end to his new, brief existence.

While Nick took a moment of self-pity, he also began to notice a hissing noise, something that wasn't coming from the bullets. In fact, it seemed to be coming from inside the car. And it was getting louder.

Nick knew that sound. He didn't like that sound.

There was another rusted car a bit further behind him. As the hissing sound got louder, Nick knew he didn't have much choice but to risk it. As soon as he heard a pause in the gunfire he jumped out, hunched low as he flew toward the other vehicle. He had just reached the other one when the first car exploded, the atomic engine igniting after being battered too many times with bullets. The explosion roared, causing many of the campers to fall backward in surprise. There knockdown didn't last long, however. Plenty of them got back on their feet quickly. Would they ever run out of bullets?

Nick wasn't sure what he could do here. He may be in this strange, bizarre world, somehow trapped inside a mechanical body, but he didn't want to die.

Nick peaked out behind the vehicle toward the campers, trying to get a sense of the situation, wondering if they could still be reasoned with.

"This has all been a misunderstanding!" Nick called out. "There's no need to fire at me!"

Suddenly, something whizzed over Nick's head. A bullet, but it was coming from the other direction. Nick didn't even have time to be surprised before one of the campers-the guy who was probably their leader-let out an abrupt cry and fell to the ground.

The other campers paused, looking at their fallen comrade, astonished.

Then, a dozen more bullets flew overhead, knocking over another three of the campers. Blood spurted as they fell to the ground.

The remaining campers split, half of them turning tail and fleeing as soon as they realized they were no longer the aggressors. The other valiant flew looked around wildly amidst the trees and darkness and empty road, vainly struggling to find the source of the gunfire.

Nick identified it quicker than the others, tracking the bullets and locating the source as coming from a small slope off the edge of the road, in a patch of burnt-looking trees. His night vision allowed him to see other people moving around in the darkness, bearing down on the campers. Since they weren't shooting at Nick, he decided to call them friends.

The other party took care of the campers in short over, coming down the slope and picking them off with practiced ease. Nick wasn't complaining, although he regretted the loss of life. If he had been back home, in the land of the familiar, a gang shootout like this would have caused a whole mess of paperwork and headaches for guys like Nick and his fellow cops.

One of the members of the second party peeled off from the others and approached Nick, an automatic rifle resting easily in his hands. He was young, probably barely in his twenties. He wore patched clothes and had the hardened look of someone who is used to working out in the sun for extended periods of time.

"Hey there," the young man said, "Just wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?" asked Nick.

"For distracting them raiders," the man replied. "We'd been wondering how to deal with them for awhile now, strategizing and whatnot, so that our caravan could continue on this road. But you provided the perfect distraction, saved us a lot of effort. So, thanks."

There were so many things wrong with that sentence that Nick had a hard time what to pick at first. Eventually, he decided on: "You called them raiders?"

"Well, yeah," the young man said, shrugging his shoulders like it was obvious. "What'd you think they were? They'd been camping in that road for awhile now, attacking and looting any caravans that came their way. This is the best route in and out of Boston, you know. We're from Oberland Station, on our way to Diamond City."

The young man tilted his head then, looking at Nick more closely. "So you're a robot," the man deduced. "That's sure odd-I wasn't sure from a distance. You sure talk like a human. But you look like a Synth. You're not a Synth though, that much is obvious-every Synth I've met has always attacked on sight, and they were nowhere near as eloquent as you."

"Well, thank you kindly for that," said Nick, not entirely sure how else to respond. "I'm afraid I don't even know what a Synth is."

"You're kidding," the man said. "What the hell are you anyway? What's your story?"

"I'm not sure you'd believe me if I told you," said Nick.

The young man grinned, "You'd be surprised the crazy stories you hear wandering the Commonwealth," he said. He gestured with a rifle, "You can tell me on the way. My name's Jim, by the way, what's yours?"

"Nick. Nick Valentine."