Verrah breathed deep as she prepared for her meeting with the detective. Instantly regretted inhaling such a large amount of wet fallout smells. She didn't know if she would ever get used to it, though she was sure she would. Eventually. Sometime. Maybe.
She shook her head, going to her left as Piper instructed. What would she say to this Nick Valentine? Hi, I'm from the past, and I want to find my parents, who have no hope of being alive, even though I am twenty four? Or, hey, I just woke up from cryo sleep and have no idea how to function in this world; can you help?
Her nostrils flared. She was truly hopeless.
Dogmeat nudged her hand and looked up with a flopped out tongue.
Smiling, she stroked his coarse fur. Came to a street sign labeled as "Third." Underneath, was neon displaying "Detective." Her eyes moved to the right before her feet did.
A somewhat tunnel formed from more corrugated metal and a…camper. Was that seriously a camper? Whatever worked in a scavenging time, she guessed. But a faint, pink glow caught her attention.
Cautious steps moved her down the dark alley. The leftover drizzle hanging in the air as a mist. She tightened her dripping ponytail. Studied the new sign.
Pulsing neon shaped a heart with an arrow through it. And the words "Valentine Detective Agency." A metal arrow to the left of the sign pointed toward a short corridor leading to the door.
She returned her gaze to the neon. This was stupid. She was stupid. The guy was most likely full of himself. Or had serious cases to solve, at the very least. He wouldn't have time for her. He'd laugh at her, and she wouldn't blame him. She didn't even have any money. Who would take a helpless cause for no money?
Obviously, there was only one thing to do.
Turn around and forget about this endeavor.
Dogmeat trotted up to the door of the agency and barked.
Verrah waved her hands. "No. Be quiet. We're leaving."
The shepherd barked again in response.
"No. Dogmeat, no."
More barking.
Before she could reprimand him further, the door opened. She held her breath.
A middle-aged woman stepped out. Dressed in a tattered floral skirt, jean vest, and scarf. She acknowledged the dog then turned to the Vault Dweller. "May I help you?"
Verrah blinked. "I, uh, well. Maybe? I'm looking for a Detective Valentine?" She awkwardly pointed to the neon. "I found it, I guess."
The lady held out an arm into the open doorway. "Yes, come inside. You can warm up and dry off. I'm Ellie Perkins, Nick's secretary."
She gave a nod and entered. "I'm Verrah. This is Dogmeat." Her eyes surveyed the small space. Desks, filing cabinets, a cigarette machine…cinder blocks? She blinked a few times. Nothing declared that the detective was full of himself.
Then again, she didn't know if there was anything in this new world that would allow anyone to truly decorate the way they wanted. On the other hand, if there was a will, there was a way. If people could build a tin city inside a dilapidated stadium, a detective could make his office as proud as he, if he desired.
Perhaps, this Valentine wouldn't be as horrible to work with as she originally anticipated.
Ellie sat behind the desk facing the door. "Have a seat. What can we help you with?"
The Sole Survivor fidgeted. Trying to come up with a story that wouldn't be considered lying. "My parents left a little while ago," more like a long time ago, "and I haven't heard from them. I'm afraid they might be dead. I just want proof of what happened to them, at the very least."
The secretary nodded as she took a few notes. "Sounds like a missing person's case. We're very familiar with those. In fact, Nick is currently working a possible kidnapping. Though, he's been gone longer than usual. I worry about him sometimes. He attracts danger like a magnet."
"I do have to be honest about one thing. I don't have any money to pay you with."
Ellie lifted her head. "Oh, your settlement uses pre-war money? Well, we use caps."
Verrah pretended to understand, though she still didn't know what types of caps were used. Baseball caps? Bottle caps? Fuel caps? Ammunition caps? There were so many types of caps. "Of course. Well…I still don't have payment. You know what, I can't allow you guys to perform a service for me without getting paid." Running her hands down her thighs, she pushed herself up. "I'm sorry I wasted your time."
She rose as well, eyeing the holding pack and wrench. "Let me ask you a question. How well can you handle yourself?"
Pausing, her ice blue eyes traveled to Dogmeat, who sat by the desk. "Pretty well, I suppose. I've made it this far."
"There's been rumors the Triggermen gang has Nick held up at the Park Street Station. If you can bring him back, that will be more than enough for payment. Nick gets in over his head all the time. One of his traits. Will you at least see if you can help him?"
"The Triggermen gang?" Verrah searched the floor before redirecting her focus to the other woman. "They shouldn't be too much of a problem. I'll go to the station and see if Detective Valentine is there."
Ellie sighed in relief. "Thank you. No one else I've asked has had the courage to go. And you can just call him Nick. He's not much on formalities."
The Vault Dweller smiled with more bravado than she suddenly felt. "It's not a problem. And thank you for listening to me. I'll see what I can do."
The secretary saw her out with an encouraging "good luck."
Verrah kept her positive expression until she made the right out of the small corridor. Dropped the smile. There had to be a reason no one else volunteered. She exhaled a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.
This was going to be fun.
She rolled her eyes at her sarcasm.
Instead of taking the back way behind the vendors, she walked through the center of the marketplace. There were stands for weapons, armor, food, and other general services. Since the rain had stopped, many of the employees stood in front of their stations, calling out their wares.
Verrah smiled to herself. They sounded like the hot dog and beverage vendors at the old games. She wondered if anyone knew how to still play baseball. It was more fun to play than watch. Maybe she could teach them if they didn't remember. Not that she remembered all of the exact rules, but she knew enough to make a game out of it.
However, before she could crusade the past, she needed to identify the present. She kept a keen eye on the payment or trading system. What kind of caps were used? It drove her nuts.
She eventually moved to the center of the marketplace. Which boasted an establishment called "Power Noodles." So, that tower really was a power station. Her attention shifted when a patron sat on one of the stools.
A faded protectron sporting a chef's hat lumbered over. Its monotone voice cackling. "Nan-ni shimasho-ka?"
The customer waved a lazy hand. "The usual." He placed a handful of caps on the counter, and the protectron provided a fresh bowl of noodles.
Verrah gave a slow nod. Bottle caps it was, then. Her eyes widened. She had found bottle caps on a raider. It all made sense now. So she had some currency. She just needed to figure out the value system. Though it most likely varied from seller to seller.
Once the noodle customer finished, she approached the counter and leaned against it. At home more with the robot than the few people she interacted with.
The protectron marched in place until it faced her. "Nan-ni shimasho-ka?"
Her brows knitted. She didn't speak any Asian languages, but there was an underlying code she detected. Barely there. Another language. The robot's own language. She just needed to listen closely. "Come again?"
"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" (What are we having today?)
"Oh, I don't have caps for noodles. I was wondering if you could give me directions."
"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" (Directions to where?)
She studied the mechanical chef. "You repeat the same phrase? What happened to your dialogue?"
"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" (A human tampered with my voice module.)
"Has anyone tried to fix it?"
"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" (Yes, but they failed.)
Her face creased with concern. "Oh. Well, I could take a look at it. Your style of voice modulator isn't complex, and your programming should be relatively simple."
The protectron kept itself busy by stirring a large pot of noodles. "Nan-ni shimasho-ka." (Mayor McDonough prefers me this way.)
Now a brow rose. "Really? Huh. That seems odd. Anyway, can you tell me where Park Street Station is?"
"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" (Northeast of here.)
"Okay, cool. Thanks. You've been really helpful."
"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" (I am Takahashi. Come again.)
A smile overcame her as she shook his free appendage. "Nice to meet you, Takahashi. I'm Verrah. I'll definitely come again. You're an awesome protectron. See ya around." With a small wave, she patted her left leg. Signaling Dogmeat to follow.
The shepherd gave a happy bark and followed with a wagging tail.
Verrah decided to give her right leg a break from her wrench and slung the large tool over her shoulder. Receiving glances from the various guards. Not that she minded. She was leaving Diamond City, anyway.
Her nostrils flared. Triggermen. Most likely, they were trigger happy. And she only had a 10MM pistol. Sure, she had survived one bullet, but how would she stand against many? She was literally going to walk in on a gang, hopefully saving a detective she had never met. Assuming said detective was in the station. And alive.
If only she had a friend to tell this ridiculous story to.
Piper.
Maybe she should've had the reporter come along with her, after all. Extra bodies would be nice when facing multiple enemies.
She paused at the top of the concrete stairs. Looked over her shoulder. Yeah. She needed to get Piper. Quick trots carried her back to Publick Occurrences. Then she rapped on the door.
Diamond City's reporter poked her head out. "Oh, hey, Blue. What can I do for ya?"
Verrah rocked back and forth on her toes. "I kinda agreed to rescue Detective Valentine from the Triggermen at Park Street Station. And, I think I'm going to need help."
Piper grinned. "I'm in."
"What about the article?"
"Nat can handle it. I already typed it out."
Her ice blue eyes widened. "Wow."
"Yep. News shouldn't have to wait on account of me being a slow writer. Let's get going." She stepped out and headed toward the city's exit. "This is gonna be great."
Verrah jogged to catch up to her. Waiting until they left the stadium to check her Pip-Boy for its compass. "Takahashi told me it's northeast of here."
Piper abruptly halted. "You can understand Takahashi?"