"There's nothing worse than a boring death."
"We need to head the Vim factory," Daemon said.
"I think we should get the launch key and the code," Ken said, "if only to ensure they can be removed from play or destroyed. Though admittedly, the launch key won't matter if we remove the defects and scrap the submarine base."
"Three teams of three," Chikusa said. "Heul, Sin, and Valentine. The Kokuyo trio. Then Daemon, Xeul, and Hayato. Each to one of those three."
"Any objections?" he asked and, when there were none, said, "Then my group will take the Vim factory. We can keep windows on each other, just in case."
A quick round of jan-ken saw the Kokuyo trio slated for the launch key, which meant Daemon's group would go after the wind farm code.
"I suggest we scrap this command center now, rather than waiting," Sin said. "We can finish the job later, but I don't think we want Chase being proactive and sneaking in, or the Children of Atom getting this far. Now that those memories are unlocked, any of them could listen to them via that terminal."
Tsuna nodded. He shifted in some battery operated lights, then headed to the back to throw that switch and cut power to the machines. "Let's get to work, my darlings."
xXx
The kill switch was on an unmarked island off the west coast of the main island, and it was little real trouble for Daemon's group to obtain it, the usual hostiles along the way notwithstanding. The Harbor Grand Hotel was infested with super mutants, but also not much of an issue with two powerful Mists and a Storm, all capable of using Earth Flames on top of that. A jaunt over to Fringe Cove Docks was next for them and, after a short pause to kill off the resident anglers and mirelurks, to unlock a safe located in a boat submerged below the surface using the combination obtained from the safe room to get the nuclear launch key.
Tsuna's trio went to the Vim! Pop Factory and were confronted with quite a few super mutants to take out, both outside and inside. Once the first area was cleared they entered the factory itself, a lobby and office side of things. There were still-functioning terminals here and there, but he ignored them. Vague recollections about taste testing were not a good enough reason to waste the time it would take to check them all, despite the curiosity of the "fishy" taste of the Captain's Blend.
The factory portion of the property was likewise infested with super mutants and their hulky dogs, and on the lowest level of the place, beyond some mole rats (the level of water in that room prompted Valentine to say, "Time for the latest round of: 'Are Nick's sealants still working?' "), past massive vats, was a maglock door and a terminal, which they hacked in order to get the thing open.
It protected a lift, which took them to DiMA's secret facility (which looked more like an employee break area) of concrete walls, columns, brain fungi, nuclear waste, and—
"Signs of life detected. Scanning… If you need assistance, please approach the intercom."
—a square room with a number of consoles, the aforementioned intercom, and a window into another room, with a maglock door to the right. He ignored that for the moment and focused on a section of the floor in the next "room" over, where the concrete had been cracked and removed, revealing bare earth. His quest marker pointed at it, so he grabbed a nearby shovel and began to dig, with Sin grabbing another so he could help.
A coffin was revealed.
Inside was a skeleton, a silver locket, and a holotape. He grabbed the locket, the holotape, and the skull (because the quest marker refused to move unless he did).
"Is it… Is it going to be painful?" an unknown woman's voice asked when he jacked the holotape into his Pip-Boy. "Yes," said DiMA. "It's going to be like having everything you are ripped out and replaced with something else. Someone else." "I'm ready. I just… I wish I could say good-bye to everyone." "No one else can know," DiMA said. "This isn't just about infiltrating Far Harbor. It's about becoming the human that synths drawn here need to meet. Reasonable, willing to accept them as just another living thing. No greater or lesser than humanity itself. You'll be the bridge between our two worlds. That all vanishes the moment anyone discovers that it's been manufactured. That you're a synth." "Did she have to die? This … woman I'm replacing? God … she looks so peaceful lying there." "Don't. Please. Avery's blood is on my hands. Not yours."
Valentine was shaking his head again. "He did the exact same thing the Institute kept doing. It's one thing to have it heavily implied, but this… There's no mistaking this."
He sighed, partly due to DiMA's actions, but just as much for Valentine's disillusionment with DiMA. Back in the console room he activated the intercom.
"Scanning. Approved user detected. Synth prototype. Unlocking medical area door."
"What? This thing knows what I am?" Valentine said. "How? Just who are you?"
"I am KYE 1.1, a computer intelligence designed to control medical facilities. Specifically, the room through that door. You match all specifications for an approved user. Personally speaking, they were very narrow."
"This must be DiMA's handiwork. Guess he never thought another prototype synth would be on the island," Valentine said. "Might as well grab anything useful we find in there."
The medical area had gurneys, racks to hold saline or other drips, microscopes, light boxes, various medical instruments, tanks of anesthetic… A desk with a broken terminal, more consoles—presumably where DiMA had altered the features of the synth who was to take Avery's place, and replace her existence with that of a dead woman.
There was also a unique weapon back there, but it got shifted to the appropriate section of storage. Once they were done looting they shifted to the decontamination room outside the house in Storage, went through the sprayer, then entered the house so they could get showers, Valentine excepted.
They met up with the others in the kitchen, where Tsuna produced a quick meal of BLTs and crisps to munch on.
"So, put the code and key into the usual storage?" Daemon asked as he fussily selected out just the perfect crisp from his plate.
"Yes. Let's go over our options for the Children of Atom. One, we could remove them as defects for their plans to wipe out Acadia and Far Harbor. Two, we could leave things alone and hope it shakes out okay. Three, we convince their leader to use the launch key and … divide … rather than worry themselves with Earthly concerns. Four, we mess with their heads.
"Five, we create wards around Acadia, Far Harbor, and the settlements, so that the Children couldn't get close enough to easily kill them all, assuming they weren't shredded by the turrets. And related but not directly so, create backup power for all those fog condensers at each settlement and wire them in so that even if the Children bombed the wind farm they would not lose that protection."
"Seven," said Hayato, "convince them to 'divide', but use illusion to fake it happening, so we aren't pumping more radiation into the air, then remove them painlessly. That sorta respects their, uh, religion, but isn't causing more harm to the rest of the island."
"Eight, 'borrow' a fog condenser from Acadia long enough for Verde to craft a fabrication plan, then quietly put it back. That way the people of the island would still have access to them and replacement parts even if things went wrong between them and Acadia," said Chikusa.
"Nine, more or less number seven, but with winnowing through their minds first to find the more moderate of the bunch, and dropping them off with the Children in the Glowing Sea, but removing the zealots," Sin said. "Though I could see a potential issue if those we relocated tried to return to the Nucleus. And, now that I think about it, some of the ones in the Glowing Sea tried to set off more bombs. Dios mio, the idea is looking worse by the second."
Tsuna shifted a whiteboard into the kitchen so he could jot down all the ideas by number while he munched on his sandwich. Had it just been Samsara? They'd have wasted the defects without a second thought, scrapped the place down the the bedrock, and moved on. But he felt the whole situation was delicate given DiMA's "relationship" with Valentine and DiMA's hypocrisy. He would prefer that Valentine would be on board with whatever decision was reached.
Valentine, in the end, preferred options eight and nine and the related, for the truly dangerous to be removed, and the remainder dropped off with the more moderate group in the Glowing Sea.
With that having been decided, it was time to figure out the power supply for each of those settlements, strictly for the fog condensers, as well as acquiring one of them from Acadia long enough to get fabrication plans for them. It would help if they knew the things well enough to attach the secondary power lines to them.
That they would have to figure out how to arrange for new fog condensers and parts to be available to Far Harbor and other settlements should Acadia ever back out of their agreement was something else entirely.
Tsuna couldn't necessarily see them spending yet more time on the island beyond the pressing concerns of the present, clearing more areas for people to settle. But finding a non-suspicious way for those same people to help themselves… Either his wily and twisty Mists could come up with something, or various people in the famiglie. Because really? Tsuna was no dummy, but his machinations tended to be a bit more straightforward and less mind-bending Mist fuckery.
A fog condenser was located, acquired, and dropped off at Verde's lab complex, with a note requesting a fabrication plan be made, as well as the question of whether or not the things could also be used to gather and make liquid normal radiation swirling around during radiation storms. And if Verde wasn't interested, that he please leave a note for Tsuna to see when he next checked in, so he could return the thing to its owners.
The Children would wait until after things with DiMA had been resolved, if only so he did not get wind of their interference and react contrary to Tsuna's expectations as based on the game.
xXx
"You're back. So, what did you find? Can we really trust DiMA, or is he hiding something?"
"We found DiMA's memories. He murdered and replaced someone in Far Harbor. Then he covered it up, even hiding the knowledge of it from himself."
"Damn it. I was hoping I was wrong. But I just knew there was something… Do you know why he did it?"
"Because of uneasy relations and unrest between Acadia and Far Harbor. He created a bridge between the two, controlling the situation from the shadows."
"So he means the best? Should we … help him? Is Acadia worth saving? There's good people … synths … here."
"Acadia is still an ideal worth protecting. But that isn't to say we can simply overlook that DiMA murdered someone in cold blood and had her replaced, just like the Institute did so many times. He might have the best of intentions, but his actions tell a contradictory story."
Kasumi nodded. "You're right. We have to see this through. Maybe you can use what you've found in DiMA's memories, convince the old synth to do what's right? I know you've been doing all the hard work. I've been making a few things. Take them."
Tsuna was handed a trio each of stimpacks and RadAway.
"Maybe they'll help? Come talk to me when this is all over, okay? And good luck."
xXx
"Yes?" DiMA asked, not looking away from the scrolling text his eyes were aimed at.
"I found something very … illuminating, DiMA," he said, holding up two holotapes. "These are copies, by the way. I happened to stumble over some memories of yours, hidden away, and they led me to a gravesite. One Captain Avery, in fact. You killed her and replaced her with a synth, so you could exert control over Far Harbor."
"What? That's impossible. Let me see what you found," DiMA practically demanded, holding out hand for them.
Tsuna obligingly gave them over and watched as DiMA took in the information. One hand came up to touch his forehead, then his head tipped back. "I… I did it. I killed a woman from Far Harbor and replaced her. I stripped a synth's identity from her and made her an agent."
"Why do it?"
"I needed to calm Far Harbor. A moderate voice. An example of what humanity should be. How we could exist together as equals. But I couldn't live with the memories of the blood on my hands. A human and a synth are gone because of me."
His eyes narrowed on hearing it for real. "And how would you plan to proceed from here, knowing that?"
"You're right. We have to focus on what has to be done now."
Which was not quite how Tsuna had meant the question.
"Is that what you call justice?" Valentine said. "Because I sure don't."
He cast a look at Valentine that said, "Trust me here. Please."
"I'm … starting to see things more clearly. We have to keep this a secret from Far Harbor," DiMA said. "If they knew I had done this, they wouldn't just destroy me. They'd come after Acadia. And then without us, the fog condensers will eventually fall into disrepair. Everyone will die. I … have an idea. There's still a way we can bring peace. But the fact that I've replaced a human with a synth must remain hidden."
"So you did all that on your own?" he said. "No one else in Acadia was a party to that decision?"
"What I've done goes against all of our ideals. I even hid it from myself. So, no, there can't be anyone else."
"I see. Then, make your case to the people of Far Harbor, DiMA. Let them decide."
"And if their judgment is to destroy Acadia? The synths I've gathered here are innocent. I'm responsible for them being here."
"They are innocent. But you said you wanted human and synth kind to be equal. Now you have to prove you mean what you say. Tell them the truth. Trust that they'll do the right thing. Because right now, the way I see it, by deciding for them, you set yourself up as being above them. That's not equality."
"You're … you're right. I … we … can't be above any other living being. When something terrible is done, there have to be repercussions. I'll go. The people of Far Harbor will have to decide what to do with me. And I will have to hope Acadia will be spared."
Faraday came racing in—he had clearly been listening in from his workshop—with objections tumbling from his lips.
"My dear Faraday… You know there is no other option."
"DiMA, there are always options. Don't do this. Don't … don't leave."
"If atoning for my actions can keep you safe, well… I care for you all too much to do anything else."
"DiMA, please…"
"Be strong, Faraday. It will be all right." DiMA headed off toward the exit, so Samsara and Valentine followed in his wake.
"I'm gambling the lives on my people that your trust in Far Harbor is not misplaced," DiMA said quietly just before he exited the building.
Most of Samsara shot Tsuna a look, to indicate that they understood what all those favors done really meant.
xXx
DiMA was kind enough to wait for them all to assemble down in Far Harbor before he started (or perhaps he took some form of courage to see Valentine there, or Tsuna, or both). It was appropriately solemn, with mist and fog darkening the sky and casting a somber light over the settlement. DiMA must not have often been seen in Far Harbor, at least not of late, as a number of the residents were gawking while trying not to look like they were gawking. To be fair, seeing a badly damaged and heavily modified Gen-2 synth with glass tubes sticking out of him was not an everyday sight.
"My long walk is over."
"What's this about?" Avery said warily.
"People of Far Harbor. You know me. We have lived peacefully together for years. We have come to trust each other, in our way. But I've betrayed that trust, and I've kept the truth from all of you. Early on during Acadia's founding, I murdered one of your own. I replaced them with one of mine."
Kudos for having the balls to say "murdered" and not "killed", Sin wrote.
"What!? Who?" Avery demanded.
"The identity of my … agent, must remain hidden. They are as much a victim in this as anyone. They will do you no further harm. I am the only one to blame." For some reason, DiMA looked to Tsuna for some kind of response.
He nodded encouragingly. "Continue, please, DiMA."
"I wanted to prove that humanity and synth could co-exist. That we did not have to fear each other. But I went too far. I see that now. I only ask that you judge me, and not what we've built together. Allow the peace between Acadia and Far Harbor to last beyond this."
"Peace?" Allen, of course. "You call murdering one of ours 'peace'? I say we end this bastard and then burn his whole god damn Acadia to the ground!"
"Allen," Avery said sharply. "Enough. DiMA will pay for his crime. But not Acadia. This path you want leads to murder. Cold-blooded murder."
"We leave them be and we'll never know if they're killing and replacing us one by one," Allen snarled back. "No, we kill every last one of them, just to be sure! Who's with me?"
Tsuna's brow went up. "Acadia is blameless. You have your criminal here, self-confessed. Judge him and him alone."
"You're not… Even… You… God damn it."
"Careful," Valentine said quietly. "This could get out of hand real fast."
"Don't listen to the mainlander. My brother knows what we got to do!" said a brunette woman.
"See the Hull?" Mariner said. "That's thanks to the mainlander. A true friend of the Harbor."
"You going to listen to Allen's hate-mongerin'? You even remember who did the Captain's Dance?" the doctor chimed in.
Dalton was next. "Mainlander cleared my farm. Avenged my family! More than the rest of you ever did for me."
"What's Allen really ever done?" Small Bertha asked. "Cause trouble. Remember who cleared the lumber mill. Remember who's given us a new chance to take back our island."
"I owe my very life to the stranger," Andre said. "We should listen now."
Mitch was next with a slightly slurred, "My uncle's safe and alive. The stranger's always steered us right."
Allen hunched his shoulders for a moment. "Enough. I'll … back down."
"The Harbor's spoken," Avery said. "So this ends here. DiMA. Murder's a serious crime. There's only the one punishment for it."
Then why isn't Allen dead for killing preacher man, or been turned over to the Children? At least we know Avery would see him hang if given the chance.
"If you have any last words… Now's the time."
"I'm … sorry," DiMA said, then he knelt.
"Mitch," Avery prompted.
The barman pulled out a gun, aimed, and fired. DiMA collapsed backward.
"Every homestead, town, and people has a dark side," Avery said. "But if we're ever to know peace—we don't let the worst of us define us. So justice has been done. And I expect everyone to respect the peace between us and Acadia." She gave a sharp nod, then headed for her office-house, which caused everyone else to break away to their usual places.
"So… DiMA is dead," Valentine said. His tone was edged with bitterness.
"I could accept the blame," he said. "I was the one to convince him to confess."
"No… No, because as much as it hurts, as close to home as this feels, DiMA was the one to put the first foot wrong. More than one. He was the one who played fast and loose with people's lives. The way he was talking, I expect next he'd have gone after…"
"Yeah. I expect so."
"Let's just hit the road, all right?" Valentine said with a sigh. "I don't think I can talk about this anymore. We need to finish things up with Kasumi Nakano."
He nodded. "Let's go see the young woman we were hired to find."
xXx
"DiMA's gone. You found out the truth, and now he's paid for it. We … did the right thing. Didn't we?"
Tsuna turned it back on her. "What do you think? Did we?"
"I don't know. All that's happened… I feel like everything's so much more complicated than I could have imagined. Hey, listen. So when you first showed up, you came to get me. To bring me home. I've been thinking a lot about that… I hurt Kenji and Rei by leaving, didn't I. I could've just stayed home, pretended everything was all right, but I left them. Should I go back? They obviously still care about me … or who they think I am. They need a daughter. They deserve to have one. Everything in Acadia's been … settled. I found my answers. Maybe it's time I did something for someone else."
"You did hurt them. You should go back. But that's my opinion, and no one can make this decision but you. If you feel in your heart you should go back, then that's the correct decision."
"…I will. I'll start gathering my supplies and I'll have to say good-bye to everyone. Thanks. For everything. Maybe I'll see you back in the Commonwealth?"
"Since we don't even know where the boat is you used, we can wait for you in Far Harbor and you can ride with us."
"Oh, uh… Yeah, the boat. I can use that. I shouldn't leave it behind."
"Then bring it around to Far Harbor, if you would, so we can make the trip back together. Will you do that?"
Kasumi gave them a nod, then wandered off to (presumably) go do those things.
On the way down the road a few minutes later he said, "Much as I hate to get in between participants of family squabbles, I'm thinking that Nakano-san was a bit too smothering and just … wasn't listening? Should we point that out to him?"
"Wrapping someone in cotton wool because you fear for them means they've a damn good chance to end up useless in real danger," Sin said. "Kasumi is clearly more capable than Kenji believes. If he had taken her along on some of those trips to the city, things might not have gotten to this point."
"They're both at fault, but as the parent, Kenji more so," Ken said. "He needs to learn to listen more, trust more, and Kasumi needs to learn more assertiveness. I'd say drop a hint, but don't push?"
"It seems clear to me with how she speaks that she's still expecting someone older to do some of her thinking for her, as she's never truly been allowed that freedom, not when it comes to adulting, anyway," Chikusa said.
"She felt alone, smothered, stifled, repressed, with no one on her intellectual level to talk to after her grandfather died," Hayato said. "I can see how that'd make anyone a bit mental and rash. It's too bad that Mercer is at Coastal Cottage. If it'd been a normal settlement… Well, there might not have been any geniuses there, but it would be a closer place they could go for supplies and additional company. Hell, a night out at a bar and a meal they didn't have to cook themselves."
Tsuna nodded. That had never occurred to him while playing the game, but it was a damn good point. There would have been people handling the supply line. The Nakanos could have negotiated for parts or supplies and been in less danger on long trips to acquire them, plus have had the occasional company of ten to twenty new people living nearby.
A quick shift once they got out of sight brought them to behind a building outside Far Harbor, but as they were walking toward the town itself, to their borrowed boat, a Miss Nanny floated toward them at a good clip, along the boardwalk from the west.
"Ah, there you are! Are you that detective I've heard about?" Its voice was female, as expected, and rather affected—high class snobby.
"Heard about? From who?"
"Mayor Avery said that someone new had arrived on the island, investigating a missing person. That must be you!"
"Seems word travels fast around here," Valentine commented.
"I haven't been able to find any of the local police force, the louts! I don't want to start a panic, but well, we may have a murder on our hands and we need an outside set of eyes."
"Where did the crime take place?" he asked.
"At the Cliff's Edge Hotel, just north of town. Will you help us? There may still be a murderer at large."
Tsuna felt like milking it for all it was worth; it wasn't as if Kasumi would be two seconds behind them. So he asked, "Who was the victim?"
"Well, we want to keep this out of the tabloids, but it's Ezra Parker, the financier of the hotel. Please, you must help us. Every moment we wait our residents are at risk."
"Who are your employers?"
"I shouldn't say out here in the open, but my employers are quite wealthy. As are the other patrons of the hotel."
"One murder mystery, coming up. Yes, we'll help you."
"Oh, thank goodness. Shall I guide you to the Cliff's Edge Hotel now?"
Tsuna shook his head. "There's some business we must take care of first. We'll be along the moment we can. Shall we meet you outside the hotel? I imagine it's that big structure in the distance behind you."
One of its eye stalks swiveled around. "Yes, that is the location. I shall await you at the front doors." The Miss Nanny, who had yet to give a name (though Tsuna knew it to be Pearl), pivoted and floated off at a decent clip.
"Right."
"Let's go wait for Kasumi, then," Daemon said. "And, incidentally, I have a window following that bot. We can just shift later."
"Thank you, brother."
xXx
"Mom… Dad… I'm… I'm home!" Kasumi called out as she opened the door to the Nakano home.
A startled cry of, "Kasumi!?" came from the kitchen, and then Kenji and Rei raced out.
"Oh my god," Rei said, a hand up to her mouth. "My baby is okay!"
"Welcome back home, Kasumi," Kenji said, hand to his heart.
"It's good to be home." Kasumi's tone was a shade uncertain, but she sounded happy enough.
"You. You saved my daughter," Kenji said. "Thank you."
"You are welcome, Nakano-san."
"You don't often see kindness in the Commonwealth. I'll never forget this."
"If any of you ever need help again, you know where to find us," Valentine said.
"Kasumi, does this mean… You know we're your parents, right?" Rei said. "You're not a synth."
"I know, Mom. I'm sorry. I was just … so confused. I wanted to go … somewhere. Anywhere."
"It's okay, Kasumi. You're home now."
Tsuna bit his lip, then said. "That she is. But… Nakano-san, please, listen to your daughter next time. Don't just try to keep her safe. Talk to her. Listen."
"I know," the man said, a bit shamefaced. "I will. I was holding on so tightly I almost lost her. There's one last thing. Your reward for bringing my daughter home safely. We don't have much to offer, but my father traveled the Commonwealth. He had quite a collection before he died. I buried it all near the house. I'm not the explorer he was. I don't need them. I think they would be better with you."
Tsuna shook his head. "No, you keep your father's collection for your family. It might come in handy one day. I thank you for the sentiment."
Kenji accepted that with a nod. "Perhaps we will need it someday. God knows plenty has happened to us already. Thank you. You saved my family. We won't forget that."
"See you around, Kenji," Valentine said.
"Good-bye, Nick. Best of luck to you and your partner in the future."
Tsuna quietly ducked out the door and stared out over the ocean. Valentine came up beside him and said, "In this line of work, you have to expect the unexpected. Still, I've got to admit, I've never had a case quite like Kasumi's."
"Really? Never?"
"Well, there was that one time I got hired by someone who'd been frozen in a vault for two hundred years. That one's been a doozy so far. I'm glad things ended as well as they have. The Nakanos are a happy family again, as much as anyone around here can be, anyway. Let's go talk to Ellie, eh?"
"Yeah. Much nicer to let her know in person, rather than a text message."
xXx
"Well, look who's back. How'd everything go with the Nakano case?"
"We tracked their daughter to a synth refuge up north near Far Harbor. She's back home, safe and sound."
"That's great! We don't often get to bring people good news. It's a nice change of pace. Thanks for coming in for this one. I knew something good was happening when you and Nick started working together. Don't be a stranger, gumshoe."
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were giving our friend here all the credit," Valentine complained playfully.
"Just keeping you on your toes, Nick."
"We have another case to solve, then."
Ellie's brow went up. "Oh?"
"An odd one," he said. "We were approached by a Miss Nanny, who works at the Cliff's Edge Hotel, on the island. Someone was murdered. We wanted to make sure Kasumi got home safe first, but we should probably get back to that."
xXx
The Cliff's Edge Hotel was a giant half circle of sorts, with a ground floor and three levels above, though the top level only had enclosed areas at either end, with the center being more like a deck. Underground levels he could not remember, aside from at least one, not counting what he knew they were headed for. Ahead of it, on the non-cliff side, was a vault entrance much like Vault 111's, with a burnt-out husk of a car on it and various metal crates.
If Tsuna recalled correctly, that entrance was not for human use. It was for the patrons' vehicles, so they could be brought down and stored in a garage deep underground. The exterior of the hotel was littered with suitcases, piles of trash, more destroyed vehicles, a deep layer of decaying leaves, and plenty of brambles and vines.
"The hotel staff really needs to do something about the lobby," Pearl said once they caught up with her. "I should warn you, some of the other hotel guests are a bit, hm, rowdy."
Considering he could see a feral ghoul sprawled on the lobby floor through the wide, open front doors, he expected to see quite a few of them.
"I was forced to defend myself when a few became a bit … handsy, shall we say? I had not been in this part of the hotel for some time. Perhaps there is some sort of sporting event that has them agitated. Several of them tried to grab me and well … their clothing was certainly not suitable for polite company. But the registered patrons are in a more exclusive area of the hotel, and do not associate with this sort of rabble. Shall we be off?"
"Yes, lead on, please."
"Very good. This way." Pearl floated off inside the lobby and then left, to a wall with dual lifts. "Drat. The elevators seem to be out of order on this level. We'll have to take the long way around."
Directly to the left was a massive cave in. It went beautifully with the piles of trash, the other out-of-order lifts, grungy, water-damaged furniture, and ceiling plates fallen to the ground. Pearl's route took them through a good part of the hotel, heading up one side and down the other, essentially, so they could get to a working lift (all so they could take on the side job of punishing the rowdy, the many normal, charred, and glowing feral ghouls).
"This elevator leads to the exclusive area of the hotel," Pearl informed them as she hovered in front of yet another set. "You should feel quite privileged that they will be allowing you in."
The level the lift opened out to was just ghastly, with wallpaper peeling off the walls, the usual piles of trash, with artwork and debris and papers strewn across the floor. The Employees Only room was designated for laundry, with an entire wall of stacked washers and dryers, plus shelving, sinks, an emergency shower, cleaning supplies, and employee lockers.
Double doors at the end of the short hallway opened to a rough cave with a remote access pedestal overlooking a vault door. There were two round tables up there, draped in fabric, with accompanying stuffed armchairs.
Ken moved to plug in his Pip-Boy and hit the Coupler Ignition button as Valentine said, "Well, well. This place just got a little more interesting."
Instead of the vault door opening, however, they were addressed by a Mr Handy via the speaker. "Greetings! Welcome to Vault 118. Your home away from home, underground. Are you the detective we sent for?"
"Yes," Ken said.
"Oh thank goodness. Let me just open the door for you," they heard, and then saw the warning lights start their usual rotation and heard the normal sounds of a vault door being opened.
On the lower level were more of those draped round tables with cushy chairs, vases with no flowers, and ruined books.
The vault's actual entrance sported a different layout than what they were used to. While the normal control pedestal was there, and the short stair down to where the door machinery was housed, behind that were two barred windows and hallways to either side. No rad scanners in sight. There was also a reception desk, something more normally found in a hotel rather than a vault.
"Well, it's about time the police sent someone out to investigate," the Mr Handy greeted them with. "We have many important residents and they are very worried."
"What is the situation right now?" he asked as another Mr Handy floated their way.
"It's Mr Parker, the primary owner and financier for the hotel. This is just a disaster!" Their greeter turned to face the new Mr Handy, and listened to whatever passed for a native language for the robots, a sci-fi sound of machine noises. (Tsuna was somewhat reminded of R2-D2 and the like, only less exuberant.)
"They're at the crime scene again? Don't they realize that they're going to disturb the evidence? You'd better come with me, detective."
They were led to the right and through a set of rad scanners (non-functional, given that he did not hear the noises he expected to hear), and into a T-shaped hallway with a fountain at the center.
Directly ahead, through a wide door, was the crime scene, as evidenced by the many robots he could see there. The hallway itself was of a curious make, with the usual vault pieces evident, but not enclosed at the top. Side pieces and floor pieces were used, but not ceilings, and it revealed the rock of the underlying excavation.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" a 50s Leading Man voice said. "This is a crime scene!" (Tsuna was reminded of Sgt Bilko's rival's voice, though he could not remember the actor's name offhand.)
"Do you not see it? The glory of the thing? The artistry?" A gritty, accented male voice.
The room itself was like a dining hall, with draped round tables (with silk flowers in vases) and a stage at the far end with two-storey velvet curtains, a microphone stand, and floor-mounted spotlights. There was an overseer's window up above the stage, and below it one of those wall-mounted statues, of a woman holding a sphere in each hand. A balcony ran along three walls, with doors on both levels.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" said Leading-Man.
"Excuse me," said their escort.
"Ezra," said Gritty-Accent, "you've outdone yourself. Oh, this is your finest work! There is more emotion in his death than most have in their entire lives!"
"The fuck are there so many Robobrains?" Hayato said roughly.
Ah, yeah, he wrote in private mode. These people had an odd reaction to the impending end of the world scenario.
Protectrons were also scattered about the room, presumably as guards to the crime scene.
"Our friend is dead, Mr Avida!" Leading-Man admonished. "Have you no respect?" He had a lavender cravat.
"I'm just saying that at least he had the decency to make a spectacle of it. There's nothing worse than a boring death," Avida shot back. He was wearing a paint-stained smock over the front of his Robobrain body's torso.
Most of Samsara turned amused glances on Tsuna, to which he huffed quietly.
"Please, if I may," their escort tried again. "If I could just have your attention!"
"That's what this is to you?" Leading-Man said. "You're sick…"
"I'm sorry for shouting," Escort said in an only slightly raised voice (because proper British gentlemen did not shout), "but the detective has arrived and shall begin the investigation henceforth. Please return to your rooms until the detective has examined the crime scene and had a chance to come speak with you."
The two patrons pivoted away and rolled off as Escort said, "Have a look at the crime scene for clues and when you are ready we can discuss your findings. You are free to question the residents, but their safety is our priority, so unless you have solid evidence, I would avoid accusations."
"I guess someone wasn't a fan of Robobrains," Valentine said, staring at the scene. "At least not this one."
The deceased wore a striped blue tie, was tipped over on his back, and sported a shattered brain case, exposing the brain itself to open air. Next to the corpse was a patch of shiny red.
"No way that's blood," Sin said. "There shouldn't be any blood involved."
The "blood" trail led over to the back corner of the room, where a baseball bat lay on the floor in another "puddle" of the red substance. Tsuna shared a look with his family and Valentine.
Valentine shook his head. "Even if that was blood, there's no way it could possibly drip off that bat the way we're seeing. The bat itself doesn't seem discoloured, and those splotches look far too much like someone slapped down some paint to create an obvious trail. No, someone went to a lot of trouble to plant misleading clues, to implicate other people. This so-called blood is too red, too shiny, for how long it took us to get here. It should have darkened or gone more brown. And I don't think Robobrains even have blood."
He nodded, picked up the murder weapon, and went to speak to Escort.
"Hello again, detective. How can I assist?"
"So how is it all your residents are Robobrains?"
"Back before the war, the residents decided the best way to wait it out was to put their brains inside robotic chassis."
"What can you tell me about the victim?"
"Mr Ezra Parker was the primary owner and financier for the hotel. He had vast experience managing venture projects around the world. It was his idea to have our premier clients become investors in the vault section of the hotel. He worked with Vault-Tec to have this built to their every specification."
"We found what appears to be the murder weapon. Do you recognize this?"
"Oh no. That's the bat from Mr McKinney's movie. You don't think he could be involved do you? I can't imagine him ever doing such a thing!"
"All right. Time to question the residents, then."
"I'll be here should you need me," Escort said.
The cafeteria was a sad, sad place, with one of the non-human-language-speaking Mr Handys, a kitchen set up, and a single worktable. Presumably, just a kitchen with service to the adjacent dining room. Directly across from it was a sign for Overseer and a stair leading up, which Tsuna took. That led to the balcony that ringed three sides of the dining area, but also a door with an Overseer sign above it.
Sin handled the lock and they were through, around a corner and up another set of stairs, to another door, which opened to a combined office-living space, with an attached bedroom which had an en suite bathroom. The desk had a functioning terminal. Beside it was a skeleton garbed in a rotting Vault 118 suit.
The first entry, [Vault 118 Overseer Instructions], read:
Vault 118 is designed to test the social interactions between the
working class and ultrawealthy when under confined conditions.
Working in conjunction with staff from the Cliff's Edge Hotel, this
vault shall function as a luxury hotel to attract the necessary
testing subjects. Upon beginning the test, additional subjects shall
be admitted from the local population into a second, much inferior
wing of the vault.
[Operations Protocol Manual] had three sub-entries, of which [Resident Admittance] read:
Prior to experiment activation, Vault 118 shall function as an ultra
elite hotel to attract test subjects of appropriate wealth and status.
This shall be operated as a clandestine area of the hotel to ensure
that individuals drawn to privilege and exclusivity are present.
Upon Activation Notice from Vault-Tec, the secondary wing of the vault shall be
made open to the public and selected from the local working class population.
These subjects are to be taken through the exclusive areas of the vault on entry,
but thereafter confined to the cramped second wing.
Once residents have been admitted, the vault is to be sealed until test results can
be determined.
[Preferential Treatment] read:
Test Group A: Ultra Elite
This subject group, not to number more than 10, shall have their every desire
tended to by robotic staff, to the extent that is possible. They are considered to be
above all legal restrictions when interacting with Test Group B.
Test Group B: Working Class
This subject group, should begin numbering 300 and shall be restricted to the second
wing of the vault. Measures should be taken to ensure that living conditions are
uncomfortable and cramped. Food and other rations are to be extremely limited and
any breach of rules are to be judged by Test Group A and enacted by robotic staff
members.
[Staff Duties And Security] read:
Due to the potential for extreme social interactions, Vault-Tec staff shall
be restricted to the Overseer and key research members. All other security,
services and maintenance positions shall be filled by robotic staff to ensure
safety and test compliance.
[Overseer'S Log] had three sub-entries, as well. [Change Of Testing Parameters] read:
This is ... completely unheard of. One of the subjects from Testing Group A is
apparently a researcher for General Atomics on some sort of advanced
robotics program. He and his wife have convinced the other members of Group
A that, with the international situation becoming tense once again, their best
chance to outlast the war is to have their brains inserted into these robots.
And they're doing this voluntarily! It's absolutely insane! I've tried to convince
my superiors that this will completely discount the test results, but they seemed
more intrigued by the idea than appalled.
[The Door Wouldn't Open] read:
We received the Activation Notice from Vault-Tec to begin the test, despite the
second wing still being incomplete. However, when I attempted to trigger the
recruitment protocol for Test Group B, the system informed me that I had been
locked out.
Someone from Test Group A seems to have overridden the system to prevent
the admittance of the local population of the island. They've been pounding on
the door for days and there is nothing I can do.
[I Can't Take This] read:
Oh god. It's been weeks now, and I realized today that I've become the test subject.
Instead of testing the social interactions between the locals and this group of rich
assholes, it's just me trapped in here with them. They're going to live forever, and
I have to deal with them for the rest of my life.
I can't take it.
"That would explain the gun and the position of the skeleton," Chikusa said mildly.
Tsuna ejected the holotape he could see and played it in his Pip-Boy.
"Progress on construction of the second wing of the vault has completely stalled. Once the premiere area of the vault has been completed, funding seems to have been cut off. My supervisors have informed me that they haven't received payments from Mr Parker, and Vault-Tec won't pay out of pocket to continue construction. "I've repeatedly approached Ezra about the finances, but he keeps telling me that Mrs Riggs hasn't transferred the funds. However, when I asked her, Julianna said that she had just given Ezra extra for the gold paint in the rooms. I've hired an investigator to look for signs of embezzlement in the next few weeks."
"So Parker was embezzling from his investors?" Xeul said. "That would certainly be a motive."
More wandering took them through Hydroponics (a small, sad room with barely anything being grown, not that the residents needed food) and around to the other side of the balcony, where Avida could be heard talking.
"I haven't felt this inspired since that time security spent all day chasing a molerat through the halls!"
The sound led them into a two-storey chamber housing consoles, a Vault-Tec generator, booze, paint splashes and cans of paint, and various pieces of artwork on the walls.
"Well. Well, well, well, well. If it isn't the long arm of the law. Tell me, are you a devotee of the arts? Does that cruel muse call you to her entrapping bosom?"
"Art is life," he said. "Without it we are no different from animals."
"Perhaps. If all we are is a sequence floating in a suit of flesh, or metal I suppose, then art is the only true communion with the world. Come with me." Avida rolled off to one of the works on the walls, a piece with a grey base, black daubs of paint in lines, and splashes of yellow, pink, and blue. And a lot of dirt, but he doubted that was part of the original creation.
"Tell me. What does this piece say to you?"
"I don't like it," he said. "There's no discernible subject. It's just random paint, and not even in an aesthetically pleasing arrangement."
"Perhaps that is entirely the point. Like life, there is no subject, no reason. Just random stimulae that our minds try to spin into a cohesive story. This way!" Avida rolled off to a different work. "Tell me, what does this one say to you?"
"It's like the war. Bombs from every direction—" For indeed it resembled many mushroom clouds, oriented up and down, with widening rings of force or debris moving outward. "—no up or down, the world turned on its head."
"I suppose in a way it must be. Art shapes the world, and the world shapes art in return. All art must therefore be constantly reborn through the lens of contextual and historic interpretation. We must ascend!" Avida rolled up to the upper level and paused by another work.
It was interesting, Tsuna thought, that there were absolutely no cans of red paint that he could see. Just yellow and blue and green, nor were there any red splotches.
"And what about this one? And please be honest, for art without honesty is just politics."
The painting in question was a grey tabby kitten wrapped around and biting a toy rocket. Tsuna rolled his eyes. "It's cute, I guess, but any technical brilliance is lost in it's kitschy subject matter. Some people like that kind of thing."
"More than you would imagine! Truth be told, this is my best selling piece. I did the series under a pseudonym, of course," Avida said as he rolled back down to the lower level. "This series has made me more money than any of my serious works, and I did the whole thing as a lark. What does that tell you about the value of art to the common man, hm?"
"A lot, really. But let's talk about the recent murder. Have any thoughts on that?"
"The person you should be looking at is Julianna Riggs. That philistine wouldn't know art from her own excrement. She and Ezra had a rather dramatic fight recently. You could hear her banshee screeches all the way across the hotel."
"What were they arguing about?"
"I don't know, I was painting at the time and was trying to block it out. Though I bet Gilda probably heard them. Maybe you should check with her."
"And you? Tell me about yourself."
"What is there to tell? I am one of the premier artists in the world. Santiago Avida! My work is primarily in oil paint, but I have been known to do sculpture or performance art, as well."
He nodded. "Thank you for your cooperation."
"Good. I hope my paintings are able to open your mind to new possibilities."
There was a classroom downstairs, filled with consoles, adult desks, a center counter such as in a lab, a chemistry station, and various other things commonly found in a laboratory, such as microscopes, test tubes, and flasks. But no occupants.
There was a star on one of the residential hallway doors, which led into a room with a sound mixing station, spotlights, a movie camera, and a small stage. On that stage were two residents.
"Why'd you do it?" a female voice said. "Huh? He deserved better than that." The Robobrain the voice belonged to was wearing a straw hat, and the voice reminded him of an early starlet, like Mae West or something.
"You think I'm stupid?" Leading-Man retorted. "I saw the way he looked at you. You gonna tell me that's nothin'?"
"It wasn't like that, we were friends. He helped me out of a tight spot or two is all."
"I couldn't stand by like some pasty-faced Percy while he put the moves on my best girl."
"But now the law is on our tail. What are we going to do?"
"Come away with me. Let's leave this dark hole of a city behind. We can be in Buenos Aires by tomorrow."
"Oh, I want to believe you, I do, but … they'll never let us go."
"Then we'll make our stand here. I-I've got a gun for each of us."
"No, no, no, no, no! The line is, 'Then we'll make our stand here. Two lovers, together, with a bullet for each of them.' "
Leading-Man huffed. "God. Why can't I ever get that line. Forget it, I can't do this right now."
"Ugh, fine. I'm going to the beach."
Straw-Hat rolled off in a huff, and Leading-Man (whom he presumed to be McKinney) rolled off the stage to address him. "Hello, detective. How can I help? Did you have questions about the case?"
"What are your thoughts on the murder?"
"It's obviously Santiago. He keeps going back to look at the crime scene."
Except that's far too cliché. The culprit always returns to the scene of the crime!
"I found a baseball bat at the scene, one purported to be from a movie. A prop, I suppose? Can you explain how it got there?"
"Someone is clearly trying to frame me for the murder. It's probably Santiago, you saw him skulking around the crime scene."
And so were you, pal.
"What were you talking about when I walked in? A rehearsal?"
"Yes, rehearsing a scene. Nothing to worry about."
"Right. Thank you for you cooperation."
"Of course, detective. Let me know if there's anything else I can help with."
The rehearsal room had two rooms off it, both bedrooms with en suites, though one was clearly more masculine if the weights scattered about meant anything.
A bit down the hall, at a door flanked by bronze lions, was a museum of sorts, and ultimately uninteresting. It did have an attached bedroom with en suite, and by the contents was most likely Parker's suite.
One of the residential suites had rad scanners just outside the door, which was odd. Just inside the door were two active decontamination arches, and a veritable maze of furniture. Two Robobrains were positioned in front of a fireplace (which had a number of urns on it and on the attached shelving), and a cat languished atop a stack of cardboard boxes.
"Hello, Mr Whiskers," a woman's voice said. "Who's a pretty kitty?"
"Julianna… Mr Whiskers died last month. This is Scruffy, remember?" said her companion and presumable husband. The presumable husband sounded like an absent-minded scientist, so perhaps the classroom was his usual location.
"Oh… Of course. Silly me." The way she said it was telling.
"Just let me have a look at the neural interface matrix and I'm sure I can clear that—"
"No! No it's not that, I've just caught another cold. Probably something that got in when they sent Pearl out."
Methinks the lady doth protest too much, Daemon wrote. And that she's a bad actor, doesn't respond well on the quick thinking front.
"Oh god, not this again. Last month you were convinced you had the measles."
"You're not a doctor, what would you even know about it. And besides, I think it may be malaria."
"First of all, I am a doctor."
"Yes, but not a real doctor. Robotics isn't an actual medical degree."
"I think they're gonna have to forfeit their deposit," Valentine said sotto voce.
"Secondly," Absentminded-Scientist said, "I've told you time and again, you can't get sick inside that suit. It's not physically possible."
"I know when I'm getting sick, Bert. Now why don't you just wander off and play in your lab. Mr Scruffy and I are going to rewrite the will, so he will get everything when I die because horrible Bert didn't believe me."
So Julianna and Bert Riggs?
There were at least seven urns at the fireplace. Which … made little sense, not if these people had been present in the vault since the time of the war. There had to be more urns elsewhere, or they had a super secret area in the vault that held a whole lot of cats in cryo, to be thawed out when the most recent one kicked it from old age.
"Oh god, Julianna. Whatever. I'm going to the lab."
"Have fun, dear!"
"Hello, detective. Did you have a question about the heinous murder?" Julianna had on a medical mask, positioned just below the brain case rim.
"I'm curious as to your thoughts about the murder."
"If you ask me, it's one of those actors. Or that horrible painter. Their type is always the cause of violence."
"I see. And the big fight you had with Ezra Parker, what was that about?"
"Oh, well, it wasn't that big a deal, really. He wanted more money to pay for repairs on the hotel."
Which is ludicrous if these people have any idea what's out there.
"I wasn't feeling well that day and lashed out a bit at the poor man. I really should have listened to him more."
He hummed. "I found evidence that Mr Parker was embezzling from you and the other investors…"
"Oh, well I really don't believe that. Mr Parker wouldn't do such a thing, I'm sure."
"And all the … stuff … in here?"
"These are our things," Julianna said primly. "We're just waiting till the war blows over so we can bring them back to the mansion."
Are they honestly all so fuckin' clueless as to not know what's out there? How much time has passed?
"All right. I do have some other people to question, so I'll be going."
"Good luck catching the murderer, detective," Julianna said in parting. Rather smugly, all told, or contemptuously skeptical.
The beach was through the communal shower area (men to the left, women to the right) and through a façade of normalcy, what looked like a wooden storefront with a center door and windows to either side. The beach itself had a short boardwalk, a dirt area pretending to be sand, and a painting on the far wall of a sailboat on the sea, all enclosed in a rock and dirt cave. A few loungers rested on the "sand", complete with sunshades.
"You think anyone actually felt like they were at the beach here?" Valentine said. "Yeah, me neither."
Straw-Hat (or Gilda) was tooling around in the water, but she rolled up to the dry area when they were noticed. "Hello again, detective. Here for my acting stories, I assume?"
"About the murder…"
"Perhaps if we were better … acquainted … I'd be willing to share what I know. Care to hear some of my stories, detective?"
"Sure."
"Did you know they were thinking of making a TV show of the Silver Shroud? Between you and me, Keith's agent had an inside track to get him the role."
Gossip duly shared, he tried for an actual question. "Mrs Riggs had a loud argument with Mr Parker recently. Did you happen to overhear any of that?"
"Oh ho ho! Yes, I haven't seen a woman go off like that since Theresa Dubois fired her costume designer. But to get back to your question… It was fever pitch, detective. She had apparently gone to the overseer's office to check on the state of things and found it in horrible disrepair. But, and this is where it gets interesting, it sounded like she found something that really set her off. Couldn't hear what, though."
"What are your thoughts on the murder?"
"Well … it is a bit strange how obsessed Santiago has been with the murder. I mean, he's always been a bit obsessive, though. He did a whole series of paintings of me, hundreds! Said I was his muse. It was flattering for a while, but the man is a bit much. Even for me."
"Found a baseball bat at the scene, Mr McKinney's. Any thoughts on how it got there?"
"I don't know, detective. I can't really imagine Keith killing Ezra."
"And what you two were talking about when I entered earlier?"
"Oh, that? We were rehearsing! Got to stay sharp if we are going to rebuild Hollywood. But Keith always gets flustered when he's upset."
"Thank you for your cooperation."
"I'll be around. Languishing from your inattention."
Back out in the hallway Xeul said, "So, Mr Riggs, then, if I'm counting right."
He hummed. "With a quick stop at Avida." He backtracked to the artist's lair and asked about why he kept returning to the crime scene.
"It's for inspiration, detective! The others don't like to think about it, but even we shall die some day. Like Prometheus's torch, it kindles within me the fire to create as much art as I can, with the time I have."
"And so many paintings of Gilda. Why her?"
"Our Gilda is a very singular creature, detective. Do you not see the joie de vivre within her? I have never met another who clings to life so tenaciously, who lives so in the moment. I must admit, I was quite smitten with her for a time."
"Ah, you're still in love with her, aren't you?"
"So what if I am?" Avida said defensively. "What business is it of yours? She deserves someone who truly understands her ephemeral beauty, not that brute actor."
"I see. Thank you for your cooperation."
Bert Riggs was in the classroom. His signature item was a red bow-tie with white dots. "Hello again. Did you need something?"
"Hello, Mr Riggs. Have you noticed your wife acting strangely lately?"
"Oh, well I'm probably just being paranoid, but… She's been so much more pleasant lately. I mean it's been nice, but also a bit unnerving. Most people don't understand us, but I always appreciated how she can just take charge of a situation. It's what allowed me to focus on my research. I'm worried something has happened to her. She doesn't seem like the same person."
"Could you elaborate on 'not the same person'?"
"…My wife has always been a very harsh woman, detective. I don't know who it is in our room, but that is not my wife."
"Do you know anything about the argument your wife had with Mr Parker before he died?"
"Well, I was here in my lab at the time so I didn't … didn't hear it, but Julianna has always been rather critical of Mr Parker. I think she found something in the overseer's office. I wasn't listening when she told me about it. I … I kind of had my head in my research. I don't know, really. I try to let her handle all the money stuff."
He nodded. "Thank you for your cooperation, Mr Riggs." He led them all out to the vault entrance for a modicum of privacy and smiled. "So, my fellow Cluedo fanatics, have you solved the mystery?"
Most of his family rolled their eyes at him.
"First issue: the identifiers they wear are all very cute, but easily switched around," Daemon said.
"Second issue: they're in robotic bodies," Xeul said. "How hard could it be to tinker with the voices? A tweak here, a modulation there…"
"Third issue: the obvious is very obvious, and I agree with Valentine that the clues left behind are a deliberate attempt at misdirection, and clumsy ones at that," Sin said.
"Fourth issue: Mr Riggs says that's not his wife. Everything else is incidental," Hayato said.
"Which leads us to…?"
"Well, duh," Ken said. "Parker killed Riggs after she found out about the embezzlement, swapped her mask for his tie, and fucked with his body's voice."
"Awesome. Let's go confront the killer."
"Julianna" was still in the Riggs suite. "Ah, detective. Did you have more questions about the heinous murder?"
"Not a question as such. You are the killer."
"That's just silly, detective. Why would I want to kill Mr Parker?"
"Oh, and you have a reason why it couldn't be you?"
"I'm sick all the time, detective. I don't have the strength to do such a thing."
He snorted. "Right, sure. Ezra Parker—that would be you, by the way—was embezzling from his investors. Julianna Riggs—that would be the deceased out in the dining room—found out and confronted Mr Parker, who planned and executed her murder, then framed someone else. Poorly, I might add."
"It's a shame," Parker said, the voice going from a woman's to a man's, "I thought I could keep the ruse going a little longer. Ah well, had to end eventually, I suppose. I hadn't planned on it, but Julianna figured out what I was doing and had to be dealt with swiftly. I thought I could get more money out of this place before making my escape. This doesn't have to end in more violence. Just, walk away. I'll leave and you can tell them I escaped. What's it going to be, detective? Join me in getting rich, or die defending some outdated ideals?"
"No deal. No more murder for you, no convenient escape."
"Then let us end this," Parker said ominously, then tried to drive his claws hands straight into Tsuna's torso. He missed, of course, and was gunned down in no time flat.
Valentine shook his head. "They really have no concept of how much time has passed, do they? They're just lost here."
"Sadly," he said. "On the other hand, these ones are not like those psycho Robobrains we encountered before. Let's go update what's-his-face."
Escort was right where they'd left him, standing vigil over the victim.
"The killer has been found. Ezra Parker killed Julianna Riggs and took her place to hide his tracks." 'Pun intended,' he thought to himself.
"My word! I never thought Mr Parker was capable of something like this. What happened when you confronted him?"
"He attacked me, but it's over now. He will no longer be an issue, and the remaining residents are safe."
"Ah… Here you are, detective. Payment for your services and a bonus for uncovering such a heinous plot. I don't think we could have done it without you." Escort forked over $400 in pre-war money, which was just another clue that none of them had a clue.
Shockingly (not) when they rode the lift back up, the nearby bank of two (only one of which was labeled as out of order) had a functioning lift which took them from the basement to the ground floor, to the lobby, rather than needing to shift out or take the long way.
"I say we take a break, and in the morning get on with the Children of Atom issue," Chikusa said.
After murmurs of agreement all around, they did just that.
xXx
The Nucleus Children of Atom were winnowed through to find the simple believers, who were tagged, and the murderous zealots. The whole base was flooded with sleeping gas so they could quietly shift out the former, then execute the latter (the corpses were shifted into the same tomb the Nuka-World raiders had been sent to). The base was then scrapped for everything of worth, recycled, and the material cubes dropped off at the famiglie warehouse in what was once Vault 75.
That left the issue of backup generators at the island settlements, and a potential secondary source of fog condensers and parts. The former took a fair amount of time, especially as they had to work around the settlers living in each location. Digging a cellar to fill with generators was not a task easily concealed for the average person, though Samsara was anything but average.
Avery was somewhat suspicious of their intentions, but when Tsuna explained why he felt Far Harbor should not be reliant on just the wind farm to keep the fog condensers running, she gave the okay for them to proceed.
Verde, when they checked in, said, "They are interesting, and I've made up fabrication plans for them, as you asked. I'm not so sure they would work well on normal radiation, though."
"We can bring you samples of the condensed fog if you'd like. I don't know how much it'd tell you, though," he said.
"Yes, yes, if you get a moment."
"We weren't sure if they'd be of any use down this way, with the radiation storms, or if it's more a matter of continuing to clean up any radioactive waste and nuclear material, and making sure everyone goes through decontamination and a medical check each time they come back from venturing out."
Verde shrugged, which said none of it particular excited him. "We'll see."
"I still don't see how we can set up trade of those things," Hayato said once they'd left. "Not believably. Maybe instead we just leave a small warehouse at each settlement, with replacement fog condensers and replacement parts? There's only so much we can do, and I'm not comfortable with handing out more Recyclers and Fabricators to complete strangers. If they wanted to create more settlements on the island, they wouldn't be completely reliant on Acadia to lend them a hand, though they would have to figure out how to power them."
"We could do that," he said. In truth, he was starting to wonder. They had experienced most of the content the game had provided, though not gone through each and every building or location to say they had "done it all", so what else was left aside from a hilariously stupid death? Turning Nervous-Stutter at Diamond City Radio into a more confident person or dealing with Bobbi No-Nose in Goodneighbor were not all that important.
Valentine was off in Diamond City, taking care of the usual petty things he was normally paid for, and they decided they might as well head off on a scrapping run. None of the famiglie needed their assistance, but there was always a need for scrap, even if not right that second.
It was, therefore, just when they had stumbled over a crashed alien ship, quite a surprise when Tsuna felt ice-cold fingers down his spine a second before he found himself trapped in a column of light—straight out of a cliché—and beamed into what was far too high tech and sci-fi of an atmosphere. He opened a window on reflex so his family could see what the hell was going on, and eyed up to two Roswell-like aliens eyeing him back from the other side of a forcefield or something. In fact, they rather resembled the animatronic aliens from that one roller coaster ride at Nuka-World.
His family all stepped in looking somewhere between amused, puzzled, and pissed off, which caused the aliens' eyes to go alarmingly wide. One lifted its hand so it could burble something into the cuff on its wrist, and then all hell broke loose as some kind of field snapped into place.
It was only later, checking in from his next life, that they were able to tentatively decide that the aliens had likely panicked, tried to use some technology to knock them out, and it had reacted very badly with their flames or magic or chakra. Stephen Russell, the poor man he'd been inhabiting, had been reduced to a pile of ash, and half the room had been blown to bits.
The two aliens did not survive.
— fin —