A/N: Accostings from the domain of strange mashups that probably shouldn't exist. Well... I managed to get another chapter up for this month as promised for last month's, uh, lapse. I know I said I would get the other chapters updooted, but as I keep rereading them, I find more that I want to fix so I'm still working on that. As I went back through what I've posted thus far I realized that I, quite unintentionally, gave Damon a similar demeanor to Goblin Slayer (I'm a nerd, fight me). I feel like I'm kind of complimenting myself by saying that, I think GS is a very well written character but the comparison might be a little optimistic. Anyway, it's time to get after Kellogg (and screw the story up... but you'll see what I mean). Enjoy!
Chapter 8: Hunting the Hunter (Sort Of)
I led them back through the brightening city ruins to Diamond City. This area seemed fairly clear; maybe it was because the civilians operated in this area? Whatever the case may be, there were no incidents on our short journey back through the collapsing buildings.
Awaiting us were the crowds once we entered the stadium.
I would have preferred fighting my way out of the Vault.
Valentine's pace slowly increased as we neared his small office, the eagerness evident in his body language. Or at least I thought it was; I still have no idea what the detective is.
Synth?
Possibly, but considering I had exactly zero information on what a Synth actually is, it was just a guess.
Once we reached the shack tucked away from the marketplace, he burst inside.
"Ellie?"
I reached the door in time to see the woman look up from the desk, wide eyed astonishment on her face.
"Nick?" The secretary's voice was barely above a whisper as they stared at each other for a long moment. Eventually, she stood from the desk. "Oh my god! Nick! You're alive!"
She rushed forward and jumped into his arms.
The detective laughed. "Of course I am. You think I can't handle Skinny and his boys?"
Ellie pulled away from him and glanced at me. "No, that's why they had to come save you."
"Right…" He looked back at me as well. "Where did you find these guys?"
"They came in yesterday looking for you. They said they weren't from around here and need help."
"Yeah", he looked at me again. "You mentioned something about that. Look, I'm more than happy to lend you my talents, but would you mind giving me an hour or so to unwind? Being held hostage for two weeks can get a guy on edge."
As much as I wanted to say no, I at least knew enough about high stress situations to know forcing him to help wouldn't be productive.
I nodded.
A strange cough from behind me drew my attention to Nate. He looked like he wanted to protest, but didn't say anything.
"Thanks, come by in a little while and we'll get down to business."
A half hour later I found myself sitting in the stands, checking my equipment. My shields took a few hits, nothing made it through to armor, and my rifle hadn't had enough ammo run through it to need cleaning, but the post-op routine was at least familiar.
Nate was sitting a half dozen meters away with the dog, having retrieved him from Ellie, diligently studying everything but me. It reminded me of how he'd behaved after the Raider attack, but this time he was clearly upset.
In all honesty that wasn't my problem at this point; I'd felt uncomfortable about him being afraid of me, but the sentiment had passed. Besides, now that Valentine was able to help, I saw no reason to keep the ex-soldier around. Considering how scared he was of me, the protection I could provide didn't seem worth it for him either.
"You really don't know how to do anything else, huh?"
I looked up from the partially disassembled rifle and fixed him in my gaze.
"You just fight."
There was no point in responding; he knew the answer and I saw no reason to justify myself, especially given the circumstances. I didn't know why he was so concerned with it, he was trying to get his son back and I've gotten him closer to that than he would have ever gotten himself.
Most people aren't comfortable with killing.
I don't know that about this place; it seems like fighting for survival is part of the daily routine here.
The smaller man shifted uncomfortably. "You know, you could say something."
"Why?"
He huffed angrily. "Well, you just- between that little massacre and the one you had back in Sanctuary, you killed more people than I did in 16 years. Way more. And now you're just going to sit there like nothing happened?"
What else was I supposed to do? Why did it matter? The objective was to repel or eliminate the Raiders before, and now it was to extract Valentine.
"What do you want?"
"I don't know- some sort of response. Anything to suggest killing people means something, that it affects you. Hell, you looked like you were enjoying it."
Not particularly. I like a good fight, but nothing I've run into so far has been that. The Triggermen were far and away better than the Raiders, but they were still untrained gangsters at the end of the day. It wasn't as if they were the same type of challenge insurrectionists posed, not to mention the Covenant. No, that was completing the mission.
"It doesn't, it's a job."
His eyes shot wide and a strange grimace plastered itself onto his face. "So people's lives mean nothing to you? If you had to kill me to 'accomplish the mission' you wouldn't think twice?"
I cocked my head at the smaller man. Would I have regrets about killing him? I'd never given anything like that thought… if it was necessary for the operation, I did it. Who or what was in the way didn't concern me, just how to remove the obstacle.
Even so… I couldn't give a definite answer.
"Not sure. Do you plan on getting in my way?"
He hesitated a split second before shaking his head.
"Then you shouldn't worry."
An exasperated sigh exploded from the ex-soldier. "That isn't the point, you- you know what? Nevermind, you won't get it apparently."
I shrugged and resumed reassembling my rifle.
"Unbelievable."
Relative silence fell back over the stands, with only the bustling of the marketplace below breaking through its veil.
Nate's response was odd; I'd never met anyone who reacted like that to fighting. Maybe that was because the only people I've interacted with were ONI, ODST, or other SPARTANS, but what we did to complete an operation wasn't a point of contention; it was about whether or not we got it done.
I finished putting the pins back in the rifle's handguard and racked the bolt a few times to make sure it was functional.
No… that wasn't quite true; the ODST's I'd worked with before, they were upset about losing people during the operation. That was different though, those were their people they lost. As much as I thought they were wrong blaming me for the dead, I could understand the anger. The Raiders and Triggermen- that would be like getting upset about killing insurrectionists; it didn't make any sense, especially if they're trying to kill me too.
In all honesty, I'm not equipped to handle that type of internal debate; it isn't my job. I shrugged mentally, slipped a fresh magazine into my rifle and chambered a round slipping the sling back around my neck.
I had just as much reason to be upset with the ex-soldier; his antics put everyone's lives in danger. Did it 'save' the rest of the Triggermen? Yes, but it was an unnecessary risk and leaves a large, well equipped group of people that is now actively hostile. Removing the threat is always the correct choice in that situation.
No point in complaining about it now; once Valentine agrees to help, he won't be my problem anymore.
"You think Nick is a Synth?"
Nate was gazing toward where the detective's office was.
"Possibly."
"What else would he be?"
While I had wondered the same thing, it was obvious neither of us had a solid grasp of what this world's norms had to offer.
"There are a lot of things I still don't know."
"But given what we do it makes sense."
"Possibly."
He glanced at me.
"People's conversational skills usually improve the more time they spend around someone."
What about me says 'usual' to you?
"And?"
"Don't you think it's a problem the only interactions with people you're interested in is killing them?"
Oh, I'm not having this conversation with you.
I didn't respond, and eventually the smaller man huffed and returned his gaze to the collection of rickety buildings that used to be a field.
Times like these were always frustrating; I hated having too much time to think, and being around someone who enjoyed actively picking at me only made it worse. Now those questions were bouncing around my head maddeningly quickly. It wasn't the first time anyone has said something along those lines, and it wasn't the first time I'd thought about it. The answer was always the same though: I have a job to do, and I'll do whatever it takes to get it done. Right now the job is to get back to my reality.
But is that all that matters? Why shouldn't I think about it more?
Because it doesn't matter. Thinking about it always leads back to the Covenant attack, and that never helps.
Haven't I been hiding from that long enough?
What good would dredging that history up do?
Maybe help figure out why I don't think it matters.
Did the Covenant think it mattered? Did they care about who they were killing? How about Innies bombing civilian settlements? Did they care?
Image flashed through my head once again, this time it was new ones: the inside of a house… my house.
A spreading pool of blood.
The strange, metallic smell of blood clogging everything.
A group of Kig-Yar, Jackals, standing over…
They were standing over a mangled corpse, missing an arm. And a head.
They were standing over what was left of my father.
He'd been alive only moments ago. He was trying to protect us… Several dead Kig-Yar were laying just outside the front door.
But there had been too many.
And they sure as hell hadn't cared they'd just butchered my dad.
He was just trying to protect us, they were the ones who attacked; we'd never done anything to them.
They hadn't cared then, the universe didn't care about taking him from me. The images of what happened to my mom, or my older sister… they were still hiding in the swirling depths of a place I'd locked away.
But I knew they were dead too.
The Covenant hadn't cared they took everything from me. The universe hadn't cared it destroyed everything I knew. ONI hadn't cared I was some kid who'd seen their entire life literally torn apart, they just saw an opportunity. They turned me into a weapon and pointed me at whoever they felt deserved to be removed, and they didn't care who they were either.
So why the fuck should I care?
That same familiar anger took root in my mind, tinging those far too vivid images red.
Had I been what I am now, I would have killed every last one of them. I would have butchered every single Covenant asshole who came after us, torn them apart with nothing but my hands and rage. I've spent my fair share of time covered in blood, but that term doesn't do justice to what would have happened had I been there now.
… But I wasn't; I was just a useless kid, standing there, crying.
And those Covenant, those bastards who had destroyed my life, torn it apart with their bare hands and claws, even now, after I'd killed so many of their comrades, were still towering over me.
They. Didn't. Care.
My mind was a torrent of burning rage and ice cold certainty.
But it matters. What I do still matters.
The thought exploded through my head like a gunshot, piercing the veil of anger that had fallen over the world.
I should care.
And here I was again, this internal conversation that I explicitly tried to avoid, leading to the same place it always does.
And my answer was the same: if it doesn't help the mission, it doesn't matter. I'll leave the rest for everyone else to sort out.
I glanced at Nate, who was still staring into the marketplace, annoyed. He was aggravatingly good at dragging these memories out. Another reason to get the hell away from him.
Right now, my focus needed to be on Valentine and what he could do for me. As usual, this conversation wouldn't get me anywhere, so stow it and keep moving.
What was Valentine? Nate had suggested he was a Synth, which I'd thought about earlier, but it didn't make sense: if he was a Synth why was he living in a city that clearly didn't trust him?
What else could he be?
The name suggested Synths are some type of synthetic life. If these people thought Nate might be one, they were close enough to real people to be mistaken for one. Valentine certainly had human-like features, but there was no way someone would confuse him with a real person. Whoever had made him was certainly trying to imitate human characteristics, so it was possible he was an older version. That still begged the question: if he was a Synth, why would the people here trust him enough to allow him to stay?
There's too much about this I don't understand.
Though I knew the questions I had wouldn't answer themselves, I spent the remaining time until Valentine was ready, running through them over and over.
Eventually I stood and began back toward the small office, Nate in tow. He was still frustrated, but I couldn't be bothered to care at this point. My own aggravation notwithstanding, there was no reason to be concerned with it; I'd gotten what I needed out of him, he had what he needed from me, our arrangement was over.
Once we reached the shack, I rapped on the wooden and steel door. After a few seconds of silence, I heard a set of footsteps approaching the door and it swung open to reveal Ellie. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying, but she was smiling broadly as she greeted us.
"Come on in, I think we've had enough time to catch up."
The secretary turned back toward the desk where Valentine was already seated.
I ducked into the cramped shack and followed her, Nate still behind me.
"Ah, my hero and his sidekick", Valentine called as we reached the desk, "take a seat and we'll get started." I couldn't help but wonder which of us he was calling 'hero'.
Nate maneuvered around me, carefully avoiding my gaze, and took one of the offered chairs. The detective cocked an… eyebrow at me as I remained standing. I'm not sure if he actually expected me to sit in the other chair; it looked like it might collapse on its own.
"Well let's start with the most obvious question shall we? Who are you two?"
The ex-soldier shifted, stealing a glance at me out of the corner of his eye. "My name is Nate, I'm looking for my son."
Valentine nodded. "And what about your friend here?"
The other man declined to answer; I guess he was of the same mind. "Damon; I need to contact the Institute."
"Okay, that's what Ellie told me, but it doesn't answer my question. Neither of you are from around here and you", the Detective looked at me, "aren't anything I've seen before, and I've been around the block."
I shifted my weight but didn't respond. The fewer that know who and what I am the better.
After a short staring contest, Valentine gave up and returned to the man sitting in front of him. "Well, big, strong, and silent isn't talking, what about you?"
"That's par for the course. What do you want to know about me?"
"Where are you from?"
"Here." I couldn't see his face but I could hear the frown in the ex-soldier's voice. "Well… here before the war."
Valentine squinted. "Before the war? You don't look like any ghoul I've seen."
"I'm not, I was in a Vault. Speaking of… if you don't mind me asking what- what are you?"
"Oh me?" The detective offered a small smile. "I'm a Synth. Synthetic man. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells. Been out here on my own for a long time though. Don't remember anything about the Institute unfortunately."
That seems convenient.
"A Synth? I thought people around here didn't like Synths."
The Synth let out a mocking laugh. "They don't. Hell, they barely let me hang around until recently."
"So why don't you remember the Institute?"
"Don't know. Woke up in the middle of nowhere and that's where my memories begin." The detective shifted. "But enough about me, as much as I love trips down memory lane, you two interest me; I'd like to see what I can do for you." He looked at me. "If you're willing to cooperate."
Nate nodded.
How helpful would Valentine be finding the Institute if he didn't remember anything about it? Or was he lying about that?
"I know you're trying to find the Institute, but they're about as mysterious as it gets, even to me and they built me. I won't be able to lead you directly to them, but we may be able to track down some leads. That's going to be a lot of leg work, and digging around in areas I wouldn't risk… I'm assuming you can provide the muscle down the road."
I nodded.
"Okay then, for now let's focus on the missing person." His gaze returned to Nate. "When you're trying to find them, the devil is in the details. Tell me everything you can, no matter how… painful it might be."
Nate's shoulders sagged. "Shaun… he-he was less than a year old. Why would anyone take him?"
The detective nodded. "A good question. You said you were in a Vault? Was he taken from the Vault?"
"He was."
"So this was targeted, they were after you, but why your family in particular, and why an infant?" The detective's voice was strange, almost like someone trying to hold a conversation while concentrating on a difficult task. "Someone would be taking on all of his care, and a baby needs a lot of it… What else can you tell me?"
"My wife was-" The ex-soldier's voice broke. He sounded the same as he had when I met him, and when he first saw Diamond City. His voice was thick with pain and emotion. It was something I could relate to, but given the circumstances I didn't understand; it wouldn't help him here.
"My wife was… murdered. She was trying to keep them from taking Shaun and they… they just…"
"It's okay", Ellie jumped in before he could finish. "You don't need to say anything more."
Valentine nodded again. "So we're talking about a group of cold-hearted killers, but they waited until something went wrong to resort to violence. That confirms it. This isn't a random kidnapping. Whoever took your kid had an agenda." He paused for a moment in thought. "Hmm… There's a lot of groups in the Commonwealth that take people. Raiders, Super Mutants, the Gunners." He glanced at me. "And of course there's the Institute. Them and the Gunners would be the only large group with the organization to pull something like that off, and the Gunners don't have the knowhow to do it."
The ex-soldier cocked his head. "So you think the Institute is responsible?"
"Well… they are the boogeyman of the Commonwealth. Something goes wrong, everyone blames them."
The more I hear about these people, the more like ONI they are. Do I want their help?
If they can make synthetic intelligence, that's probably the closest I'll get to UNSC technology; they may be my only chance.
Even so… getting away from ONI was one of the positives to being reassigned to a SPARTAN IV unit.
And that doesn't matter right now.
"It's easy to see why. Those early model Synths of theirs stripped whole towns for parts, killing everything in their way." Nate stole a glance at me out of the side of his eye. "Then you got the newer models, good as human, that infiltrate cities and pull strings from the shadows."
Yeah… that's ONI. Or at least their version of it.
I was never involved in anything of those, but there were several operations I had POC's in colonial leadership positions. It wasn't often, but it made me extremely uneasy; they were just as likely to turn me over to the Innies their colonies were harboring, but at the same time, it meant people in those colonies were always being watched by the same set of eyes that were at my back. Neither of us ever had the chance to escape from them, no matter how far we went.
I guess that's one thing I had in common with those people.
"What do you mean 'infiltrate'?"
"Find their way in, become a part of the population, maybe even become a town leader or mayor. Worst part is no one knows their motives, not even me." Valentine frowned. "This speculation is getting us off track; tell me more about the kidnappers."
"Well… one of them, a woman, was wearing…. I think she was dressed in some kind of hazard suit. The man… had some sort of metal brace on his arm."
"Maybe some kind of improvised armor? A lot of hired guns do that to look tough." He frowned again. "The hazard suit is interesting, not many nerds can afford something that fancy. What else can you tell me."
I may not have known much of the situation, but considering the circumstances it seemed like the Institute was the most likely culprit. They had advanced (for these people) equipment, specifically targeted someone in a secured fallout shelter, and were able to gain entry to the sealed facility.
The Triggermen were in a Vault.
That Vault was still under construction. It was possible this was chance, but it didn't seem likely.
"The bastard-" Nate voice turned to ice as his shoulders stiffened. "The bastard who murdered Nora- who murdered my wife. I'll never forget that voice, low and rough, like sandpaper running across your face. The gun he shot her with, I didn't get a good look, but the sound… it was so loud, it ha- it had to be something big."
"So a large caliber handgun, probably a revolver… a tough and commanding voice can get you far in the violence business. It isn't much to go on though; is there anything else you can tell me?"
"The man… the one who shot her- he came right up to me. Bald head. Scar across his left eye."
Valentine leaned back in his chair, eyes wide. Apparently he knew who that was.
"Wait… you didn't hear the name 'Kellogg' did you?"
"No." Nate shook his head. "No names."
"Hmm… it's way too big of a coincidence…" The detective turned to his secretary. "Ellie, what notes do we have about the Kellogg case?"
She glanced down at the clipboard she was holding. "The description matches. Bald head. Scar. Reputation for doing dangerous mercenary work, but no one knows who his employer is."
Oh? Dangerous mercenary work… if he has a rap sheet with someone like Valentine and a reputation for hard jobs, he's probably been at it for a while. That sounded like someone who could put up a good fight, and if he's connected with the Institute…
But I could already see this leading to another problem: this is all with respect to searching for Nate's kid.
"And he bought a house here in town, right? And he had a kid with him, didn't he?"
Ellie nodded. "Yeah, that's right. The house was in the abandoned West Stands. The boy with him was about 10 years old."
The ex-soldier bolted upright, back ramrod stiff. "You said he still lives here? He's still in town?"
Valentine held up his hands. "Slow down… they both vanished a while back, if I'm remembering right, but that house is still there…"
Silence swelled in the small office as the detective paused. It was obvious where this was going, and the more I thought about it, the more I hated the situation. My best lead to finding the Institute still involved Nate. Now there was a bad joke.
If I'm going to keep saying 'it doesn't matter how the mission is accomplished' I can't complain about this.
Oh I can complain about it alright; Nate was going to get himself killed at some point. If I'm not careful, he could drag me with him. If I'm going after a reputable mercenary, I couldn't have him ad libbing and trying to talk him down.
Oh please, has there been anything worth worrying about so far?
Not really, but it only takes one.
Eventually, Valentine removed himself from his musings and stood. "Let's you and I take a walk to Kellogg's last known address. See if we can snoop out where he went."
Ellie frowned. "Security doesn't really go to that part of town, but you two should still be careful." Her concern was palpable.
The detective smirked. "I always am…" He looked at me. "Besides, aren't you going to come too? This is probably going to be your best bet to find the Institute."
Nate stood and glanced at me, expression equal parts curiosity and fear.
So he still wanted to tag along, at least in part.
I already knew the answer, but that didn't make it any less annoying to say.
"For now."
"Good", Valentine replied through a smile. "See Ellie a Synth and…" he motioned at me, "whatever the hell he is, everyone will be too afraid to come within 100 feet of us. We'll be fine."
"Uh huh."
"We'll be back soon."
I followed the two, and Nate's dog, out into the afternoon light of the cramped alley. Valentine led us toward the west side of the stadium where several larger structures were constructed on stilts and gantries.
As we walked up the pathways, the wooden planks and thin steel supports groaned worryingly under my equipment's weight, but they held.
Some small portion of my mind found the capacity to entertain at least a bit of excitement; I finally had some form of lead on the Institute. The rest was quick to remind me there were no guarantees this would take me anywhere. And I'd be dragging Nate along with me too, if I decided to go this route.
I glanced at the ex-soldier; he was following closely behind Valentine, stiff and quiet. Is there a way I can pursue Kellogg without carrying a liability like him with me? I could tolerate him slowing me down, but his interference in the Vault was going to get one or both of us killed.
He is looking for his son.
My mind raced, trying to come up with an objection. His son would probably be dead or unreachable after this point.
If I can get to the Institute, wouldn't I be able to get him there too?
And why am I worrying about this now?
It's the right thing to do… besides, wouldn't I want this if I were his son?
… My family is dead.
And if they weren't.
They are.
My internal argument was cut short as we turned onto a gantry that ended at another cobbled together structure. Like everything else here, it was pitted wood beams, particle board, and corrugated steel slashed together into a cube. To its credit, this was the largest one I'd seen so far.
Nate tried to push the door open before glancing down. "Do you know how to pick a lock?"
Valentine joined him at the door and knelt to study their query.
Do we need to do this non-destructively? If this guy is as good as Valentine says, he'd know we were here either way.
"I could if I had enough time, but this is a pretty serious piece of kit. We might be off getting a key from the mayor."
"The mayor?"
"He has spares for all buildings."
… I'm not that patient
"How would we get one from him?"
"Very carefully."
I approached the two. "Back up."
"You know how to pick a lock", the detective asked as they turned to me.
"No."
"The idea is to not draw attention. Kicking the door in isn't 'not drawing attention'."
"I just need to break the lock."
"True… and how do you plan on doing that?"
Is it going to turn into a debate every time I do something?"
"Very carefully."
"I'd feel-"
"Just take watch."
Valentine squinted at me, but before he could respond, Nate inserted himself into the conversation. "He isn't going to say anything else Nick. Let's go."
The ex-soldier stalked back toward the gantry followed by Valentine after he stole a quick glance between the two of us.
The door was wooden with a steel door frame. The easiest way to open the door would probably be to tear it straight from the door. This was something I'd seen before: high quality locks on poorly secured doors. It's something I've never understood.
I braced my left hand against the doorframe and forced my right hand into the door jam just over the lock. Once I was able to get a grip on the door's interior I pulled.
It wasn't more than a half second before the wooden door let go and I came away with a handful of plywood. I ripped another chunk of wood from around the lock before grabbing the broken edge and pulled the door open.
I walked into the dark interior, rifle up. Valentine had said the mercenary had been gone for a while, but I wasn't taking any risks.
The shack's interior was bare except for a cluttered desk in the center flanked by an unstable looking staircase that led to a loft above, a couch and table in the opposite corner, and a worn down chair to my left. Fortunately, there wasn't much a person would be able to hide behind. The platform above was just high enough to prevent me from seeing over the edge, but the stairs would probably collapse if I tried to climb them.
As I finished clearing the first floor, the others entered behind me.
"Check upstairs."
"You can't", Nate asked in that same mocking tone.
Do I really have to drag this guy along?
"No." I looked pointedly at the staircase. "Those stairs wouldn't hold me."
"Right."
While he climbed into the loft, I looked around the building's interior. Something felt… off. This room was much larger than the inside of Valentine's office, but… it didn't seem like it matched the structure's exterior.
"This can't be all of it." I turned to see the detective studying the room as well. So he was thinking the same thing.
Valentine continued looking around until his eyes settled on the wall to the right of the entrance. "Is it me, or should there be more room over there?"
"It's clear up here."
Neither of us responded to the ex-soldier as we stood in front of the wall in question. My mind served up an image of the building's front; the door had been near the middle of the structure, yet it was maybe a meter from this wall. There should have been another two or three meters here.
I pounded on the wall, my gauntleted hand producing a hollow boom. The exterior walls were thin, but not that thin.
Valentine nodded. "Yep, there's something on the other side here."
"What's going on", Nate asked as he climbed down from the loft.
"Look for a switch, button, pressure plate… something to open a hidden door; there's a room on the other side of this wall.
"... Why?"
I began searching the wall for any circuits, seams for a hidden door, or rails for a sliding section of wall.
"There's a room behind that wall."
"Like- we're talking about a secret room? Are we in a spy movie now?"
"This is probably the Institute- ah, I think this is something."
As he spoke, a click came from behind me and, following a gentle hiss, the wall split open as part of it slid away. Behind it was another room maybe a third the size of the main area, this one a store room, walls lined with shelves full of supplies. An overstuffed leather chair sat in the middle along with a small table covered in bullets and an ashtray.
"Yeah… we're definitely in a spy flick now." Nate's voice had an odd element of wonder that took the place of at least some anxiety he'd been carrying for the past day.
"Gotta give him credit, Kellogg knows how to make an impression." Valentine walked past me into the new room. "Doesn't look like he's boobytrapped the place."
I followed him into our new discovery. There was plenty of food and water on the shelves; that could prove useful. The boxes of ammunition that sat on the rearmost shelf along with the consumables hidden away behind a secret door said this guy was using this as a safehouse. I doubted he would leave the place like this if he'd bugged out.
"How long has Kellogg been gone?"
Valentine glanced at me. "Don't know… he was here when I left for Vault 114, so less than two weeks I guess." He looked around the room. "You think he might be on a job?" The detective had ostensibly asked me, but it sounded like he was thinking aloud. "Hmm… I wonder…"
The Synth strode to the rear of the room and pulled a small cabinet from under a shelf. "Guys like Kellogg are good, but it makes them predictable." He pulled the front of the cabinet open. "If he is working with the Institute, no way he doesn't have insurance readily available."
While he sifted through the contents, Nate began searching the shelves. Valentine was convinced this guy was a top tier gun for higher; I'd fought plenty, even hunted a group of them down once. This didn't seem right. The high security lock, hidden supply room, and stowed material, yet no intrusion countermeasures? No traps, no incendiary devices, no explosives?
"Bingo."
My attention shifted from potential land mines to the detective. He was looking at a map of some sort.
"Looks like we have operational locations… hmm…" Valentine stood and walked back into the main room with what looked like a rudimentary map. He placed his find on the desk and glared at it. "This doesn't make a whole lot of sense."
I followed Nate over to the detective. The map was clearly of the area with several circled locations accompanied by short labels for each.
"The landmarks are wrong." I looked at Nate who was studying the map too.
Valentine's eyes darted from the desk to the ex-soldier. "You're right, notice anything in particular?"
"Yeah… some of these are reversed." He pointed at one of the circled locations. "This one says Arcjet, but it's where Fort Hagen should be, and vice versa. Same with the police station and the Airport. There's a lot more… why would they be reversed?"
Arcjet? That's where the Brotherhood was going. We're they engaging the Institute there?
The Synth pointed at a few other labels. "Not all of them are, most places look like they have the right names."
"Some of these are written in different colors too, only the flipped ones."
My eyes roamed over the different landmarks as they spoke; it was difficult to tell what was what when I didn't know the area.
"Blue… green… purple… yellow… re- that's weird… is this…?" The ex-soldier's eyes widened. "Hold on, this is old school map encoding. We- we trained with these in case we had to take missions with no support or comms. This is exactly the same keying we used- that bastard- he's at Fort Hagen, or something important is there."
Him drawing a conclusion that quickly had me curious. "How do you know?"
The smaller man looked up at me. "Flipping landmarks means high value, different colors are the types of location; Hagen is yellow, that means control or command."
Valentine shook his head. "So Kellogg used a centuries old cypher to encode his map… he's one clever bastard."
Their reasoning was… sound, but it didn't indicate Kellogg would be at the installment, just that it was a stronghold.
One step at a time. If Fort Hagen is occupied, chances are I'll find something useful.
"Are the distances here accurate?"
Nate went back to the map. "Looks like it; Hagen is about 15 miles from here." That made it an almost four hour hump with no delays. "We can make that today."
"Whoa." Valentine held his hands out. "Look, I know you're eager to get after them, but getting yourself killed ain't gonna do your kid any good."
"No. I can't let them get any further."
Which means if I do decide to bring you, you'd be more of a liability.
"From what you've told me, you've been fighting nonstop since you got out of the Vault. As difficult as it is, and believe me, I've had my fair share of missing persons cases, you have to give yourself time to recover."
"The longer I wait, the harder this is going to be." Nate glanced at me. "We can handle this."
We? My ire flared again. You're assuming I'm going to carry your ass until you get your kid back? Especially after the shit you pulled in the Vault? Then there were the memories he kept dredging up…
"I didn't volunteer."
The ex-soldier's eyes widened. "What are-
"You're expecting me to handle the fighting and cover for you; I never volunteered for that."
"But-"
"I also remember you taking issue with how I do things."
A flash of recognition and disgust crossed his face as whatever emotions he'd buried under the determination resurfaced. "So what do you want then?"
"You don't have anything to offer."
"This is your best chance at finding the Institute."
I nodded to the map. "I know where their forces might be 's as much as you know." The ex-soldier blanched and followed my gaze to the desk.
It was a few seconds before Nate looked back up at me, but when he did, his expression had changed. "You aren't leaving me behind. If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have gotten this far."
"I fulfilled my end of our agreement."
"I don't mean to intrude on this … disagreement", Valentine said slowly, "you two are heading in the same direction." He turned to me. "Why ditch him?"
"Because he's a liability."
The ex-soldier gaped at me. "A liability? Because I'm not some fucking monster who's only solution to a problem is killing people?"
Is calling me a monster supposed to be an insult? Join the club.
"Did you know the Triggermen would cooperate?"
"No bu-"
"You put everyone in danger because you didn't want their blood on your hands." Even though I would have been the one fighting. "Playing nice when there are no rules will get you killed. I'm not getting caught in the crossfire."
The ex-soldier's unease and anger were back in full force, breaking through the excitement of the last half hour. He stared at me wide eyed, jaw set, and muscles taut.
"Look", Valentine said, voice exploding into the tense silence like a gunshot, "Nate, much as I hate to say it, this isn't the pre-war world. Kellogg and the Institute won't be talked down. Neither will Raiders, Supermutants, Ferals, or any of the other threats we have in this wonderful city. I want to help, but if you want to chase your son across the Commonwealth, you're going to need to understand what that means." He motioned at me. "He seems like a mean son of a bitch, but he also seems very good at keeping the people he wants alive breathing."
I'd say I'm better at making the people I want dead stop breathing; two sides of the same coin.
I couldn't help but think Valentine was trying to force me to carry him along.
"You're taking his side?"
"It ain't about sides, it's about surviving. It's something you learn after a few years of living here… if you make it that long." The detective looked back at me. "That being said, you'd be smart to take him. Travelling alone is a bad idea, no matter how deadly you are. Take it from someone who does that for a living."
Why does everyone want me to babysit this guy?
"I'll be better off alone."
Valentine frowned. "You aren't kidding about not wanting to help him, huh?"
"Not if it makes things more dangerous."
Nate's eyes narrowed. "Fort Hagen is the best lead I have to get my son back. I'm going."
A throat clear drew my attention back to Valentine. "Before we get any further into this productive back and forth, I'd like to suggest a solution." I nodded. "You and I head out there."
The ex-soldier grunted. "I already said-"
"I know you want to go yourself, I get it", the Synth motioned at me, "but he's our only chance to take down Kellogg, especially if he has Institute backup.
"So then why do you need to go?" Nate practically spat the question.
It was obvious; I'm a soldier, not an investigator. He wanted me to handle the fighting while he looked for information on how to move forward. As long as he wouldn't interfere with the fighting side of that relationship unlike the ex-soldier, it was… palatable.
"To make sure we get the leads we need from this little field trip."
"You just want me to, what, sit on my ass? When the bastard who killed my wife is within my reach."
"Look friend, Kellogg isn't someone you take lightly. He's dangerous, maybe the most dangerous person in the Commonwealth. I'm sure you can handle yourself, but this guy's been killing people for a long time."
"I was in the Army for most of my adult life." Nate's voice slowly climbed while he spoke.
"Like I said: this is a different world."
The ex-soldier threw his hands up. "This is my fight. Not his." At this point he was practically shouting. "Kellogg killed my wife. It doesn't mean anything if some psychopath who doesn't care about mass murder is the one to put him in the fucking ground. It's just another body on the pile for this bastard." He waved an arm at me.
There was a grain of truth to what he said; killing my first Sangheili had felt great, empowering. Now… they were all just a part of the job. Unfortunately, I couldn't begrudge him that emotion, that need to get back at Kellogg.
"Well, what's more important to you: dying for revenge or getting your son back?"
"I'm not some goddamn invalid who needs other people to do his work for him. I. Can. Handle. It."
"And if you can't? What happens then? Why wouldn't you take the damn near guarantee." He pointed at me. "Unless you care more about killing Kellogg than you do saving your son."
"I- it…" Nate faltered, looking from the detective to me and back. A pang of sympathy flashed by; revenge is something I can understand. I was too young to take it from the Covenant who attacked my home. Things like that couldn't factor into operational decisions though, and if letting him have that revenge involved dragging him through another, potentially more dangerous firefight, I'm not playing along.
Isn't it hypocritical for him to lecture me about 'valuing human life' just a little while ago when he's aching to kill this guy?
"Stay here with Ellie, let us handle this."
Nate's mouth worked open and closed; I could see the gears whirring furiously trying to come up with a retort.
"What about you?" Valentine looked at me. "Is that okay with you."
Valentine probably wouldn't be that useful in a fight; he knew how to handle himself, but at some point, numbers win. He'd already ceded that responsibility to me. The detective would be an invaluable asset for information too.
"As long as you don't get in the way during a fight."
He chuckled. "I didn't get to see you in action, but I saw the results of your handiwork; your bad side is the last place I want to be."
"Agreeable."
"Good." The detective's gaze settled back on Nate, nervous. "Can you work with this?"
He sneered, mainly at me. "You aren't giving me a choice."
There's a reason for that.
"I can't relate to what you're going through, but I promise, if there's anything there that will lead you to your son, I'll find it."
The day was beginning to fade into evening by the time we were done in Kellogg's house. We'd taken as much from the hidden supply room as we could, within reason, and made our way back down the gantries and to the small shack that was the detective agency.
Nate radiated silent fury the entire time.
As much as it pained me to admit, I found some small piece of myself feeling sorry for the man. I knew that feeling: wanting- needing revenge, but unable to take it. The first time it reared its head… it had been a year or so into training, when I started to feel a part of the world around me again, finally. Something had been festering at the back of my mind for a while, but it wasn't obvious. We had been drilling squad tactics, specifically against the Covenant; that meant watching a lot of combat footage. During one of the drills, something snapped and I went after… what was his name? Julius? The oldest and largest kid in the program. I got my ass beat, was in the infirmary for three days. I had plenty of time to lay there, thinking, feeling how powerless I was. Hating every instant of it. Those Covenant bastards were still there, towering over my shaking, cowering body. I hated them for that; I hated I couldn't do anything about it.
If I'm being honest, I still do.
It doesn't matter now though, my target wasn't Covies, it's an Institute hired gun with a reputation for being extremely dangerous.
We deposited the supplies in the shack's side room.
"It might be a little late to head over to the fort now, besides, I have a policy to go at least one full day between being shot at. Sorry for not having enough beds."
Most times it felt more common for me to sleep in deep forests or sewers than in a bed, so the places I'd slept here so far have been damn near luxurious.
Nate shrugged. "I've spent plenty of nights on the floor, another one won't kill me." His voice had lost some of its venom, replaced by an almost automatic drone, but I could still feel the seething anger underneath, most of it directed at me.
If he was better at following orders I wouldn't be opposed to working with him; or at least bringing him along.
It didn't matter, at this point I was finding the Institute; if his son was tangentially related, that's for him to worry about.
"He's an expert in pretty much any type of combat, but the guy is known for setting traps and ambushes." Valentine looked around at the slowly brightening landscape as we walked through the suburbs of what had been Boston. The houses here were in even worse shape than the ones in concord; most were just piles of rubble on vacant, brown lots.
"Does he have any patterns?" The path we were taking had us on a regular trade route, so according to the detective, we wouldn't have to worry about being assaulted by one of the area's attackers or wild animals.
My head was still on a swivel.
"Not many I know of; he uses a .44 magnum revolver for gunfights up close, but I've heard stories about him being a crack shot with most long guns." He let out a humorless chuckle. "Guess those are to be expected if you're going to survive in his line of work."
As nice as it is to know as much about my target is, it wasn't a disappointment. Improvisation is usually more fun. However, one thing I was interested in learning…
"What kind of forces does the Institute deploy?"
Valentine chuckled. "That's a good question. Usually it's Gen 2 Synths, but if we're especially unlucky we'll run into a Courser."
I waited for more, but the detective didn't elaborate. That isn't useful information.
"Explain."
I caught him cocking an eyebrow out of my periphery.
"What do you want to know?"
"Physical capabilities, armament, tactics."
"Well… second generation Synths aren't too different from regular people when it comes to fighting. They have limited intelligence, so they won't do much on their own. Basically, they'll only do whatever Kellogg tells them to." He paused for a moment. "Most of those use basic laser weapons."
As we passed a collapsed apartment block, my mind brought up images of both the cobbled together 'musket' Preston used as well as the much more purpose built weapons the Brotherhood soldiers had. The Minuteman's weapon was a product of his environment, making whatever he had work; the Institute would most likely use something more similar to the Brotherhood's armament.
"And Coursers?"
"They're different; those bastards are third gens, but… more. The gen threes are impossible to tell apart from a regular person, and then the Institute went and suped these ones up: stronger, faster, smarter, better trained- or programmed I guess I should say, and ruthless. From what I've heard they spend most of their time hunting down rogue Synths in part because they're very good at not dying."
I glanced down at the detective. "Does that mean I need to worry about one hunting you?"
Valentine shook his head. "Don't know why, but the Institute has left me alone for a long time now."
Why do they have Kellogg on their payroll if they have purpose built soldiers?
"What does Kellogg do for the Institute then?"
"What do you mean?"
"Does Kellogg give them something Coursers can't?"
"He-" the Synth paused again. "That's a good question…"
We walked through the crumbling suburbs in silence as the question hung in the air. It would make sense for the Institute to use him while their regular forces didn't have the ability to reason and strategize themselves, but it sounded like they'd fixed that problem. If they have the capacity to make even more effective models…
"How often do you come across information about Kellogg?"
"Not very often, especially not lately, but it used to be consistent at least; maybe one or two times a year. Him moving into Diamond City was the first I'd heard about him in a while."
"Did you stop hearing about him around the same time Coursers were deployed?"
He shook his head. "I couldn't tell you for sure but… you're suggesting the Coursers replaced him, so if we really are looking for Kellogg, there's a specific reason. Him moving into Diamond city, especially with a kid in tow, and leaving suddenly wouldn't happen by chance. He left about three weeks ago…" He fell into silence again, thinking.
I had a feeling I already knew where this was going; there was no way the Institute could know Nate would remember Kellogg specifically, but they knew he'd been there and the ex-soldier had probably seen him. If Kellogg left three weeks ago, that put him two weeks ahead of Nate thawing out. There are a lot of variables in play, but if they assumed the ex-soldier would look for his son, he would probably come into contact with the mercenary at some point.
"They want Nate to hunt him."
"I was just about to say the same thing. Nate said he woke up about a week ago?" I nodded. "So this is a set up. Question is, who is it a set up for?"
With the parties in play, it was him, Kellog, or both. It wouldn't make sense for them to want Nate dead, or if they did there were much easier and faster ways to go about it. That ruled out 'both' by proxy, so did they want to eliminate Kellogg? Again, there were easier ways to do that, unless they wanted to make it look like a job gone wrong.
"If they wanted Nate dead, they would have done it while he was still a popsicle. That means they wanted him to find Kellogg…" The detective stopped. "I don't like this." I turned to him. "We're being led along." I cocked my head. "Think about it: if they just wanted to off Kellogg, sure he's a tough SOB, but the Coursers would be more than capable of handling him. Someone at the Institute wants Nate to find his way to them, and they want him to put their hired gun in the ground along the way."
"Why wouldn't they contact him directly?"
"Don't know… you're asking me to speculate about the most mysterious group in the Commonwealth there, not like I have much experience with them."
"They're sure he'd be able to do it?"
"There's no way they'd know about you?" I shook my head. If this was set up at least two weeks in advance, I hadn't even dropped into Concord yet. "Then they must know about his past, his time in the Army- do they know about him from before the war?"
The alarm started going off in my head again. "We need to keep moving." I began walking and the detective followed.
"If they knew about the Vault, and targeted his family specifically, it stands to reason they'd know about his history." I felt his eyes on the back of my head. "And then you show up. Seems like a massive wrench is about to be thrown into the works."
Yep.
"Well… at least we'll be doing the first part of their plans, but still why Kellogg? And why let Nate go after him? To let him get revenge? That just doesn't make any sense."
While it may have been interesting, it wasn't mission essential, so I'd leave that speculation to him. Knowing I was walking into a controlled situation was what I needed. My job was to make it a little less controlled for whoever had set this up.
"Unless someone has it out for Kellogg and knows Nate would have the motivation to go through with killing him." He paused for a moment. "He seemed pretty upset about you killing the Triggermen, do you think he would have a problem putting Kellogg down?"
I glanced at the Synth. "Why?"
"Is it possible they don't want Kellogg dead? If someone in the Institute set this up, it would have to be high level; would someone like that want to kill Kellogg like this?"
I shrugged. "With what it sounds like he does, it isn't hard to make enemies."
"Even among your allies?"
Faces flashed through my mind, regs, ODST's, even some of my handlers. Their expressions ranged anywhere from distrustful to downright hateful; them being allies didn't mean anything. "Especially among allies."
"You have experience with that?"
Really? I didn't respond.
"Yeah", Valentine said after a few seconds, "that was a pretty lame attempt, too direct. You strike me as the type of guy who needs a bit more finesse."
No, I don't like anyone asking about it.
After a few more minutes of walking through the decrepit, crumbling suburb, we came across a large building, or what used to be one, scattered across a massive lot. It must have been a school, or community center. Several emaciated dogs roamed through what was left of the structure, none as well kept as Nate's German Shepard. They noticed us immediately and retreated into the collapsed building.
Valentine cleared his throat (is that something robots have to do?). "Alright, we're getting close to halfway there. We're going to break off the trade path soon, so we might run into some Supermutants or Ghouls. Raiders and Gunners tend to stay out of this area and we're still too close to the city for the more dangerous wildlife to give us any trouble."
I nodded. There still hadn't been a chance for me to see what Supermutants could do. I doubted they would have any semblance of tactical forethought, but their physical prowess might make up for that.
"Can I ask you a few questions?"
What is it with people needing to talk all the time?
My gaze shifted to the detective for a moment before I returned to studying our surroundings.
"I can't stop you."
"I doubt that. Maybe a better question is would you play along."
"Probably not."
He chuckled. "Fair enough. Let me start by painting a picture for you."
I sighed quietly, but for some reason, his constant talking wasn't anywhere near as aggravating as Nate's. Maybe it was his much lower volume, or that so far it had all been pertinent to the task at hand.
Something tells me that's about to change.
"I've been roaming the Commonwealth for a long time, seen a lot in my time. Even ran into the wannabe military outfits that replaced whatever pathetic excuse for a government we had pre-war. Hell I'd say I've met every group we have in the good 'ol US of A that could claim to have advanced pre-war tech."
I thought so.
"You my friend aren't from any of them. So I've been thinking… where did you come from?"
"How is this relevant to finding Kellogg?"
"It isn't; I can't do any more on that front, but you… you're a mystery I haven't seen before, and I'll be damned if I waste an opportunity like that."
Well if you want to pursue that, you won't get much help from me.
"You and your armor aren't anything like the pre-war stuff and what the Enclave and Brotherhood use: T45, T51, T60, X-01, and 02. It's design is completely different, and someone your size, that armor would have to be tailor made for you. It has to be powered with how heavy it is, but you don't have any of the odd, jerky movements regular power armor does. Your movements are too fluid to be anything close to the regular tin cans we see around here. Hell, even for a regular person." He paused for a moment and I could feel his eyes drilling into the side of my head. "That suit is way better than anything we could dream of making. Now there are plenty of things that could explain it, but most of them are full of crazy conspiracies and crap."
He paused again, clearly waiting for me to provide some commentary. Like I said: you want to go down this road, you're going to do the driving.
"So we're going to play that game huh? That's fine. I love diving into a good mystery."
The detective fell silent again. He had provided some useful information: there were at least 5 variants of power armor, and two different series. Which did the Brotherhood use? And which was the more effective version? He'd also essentially told me all power armor here is driven by regular people, so they would have limitations I could count on. If that was the case, my initial guess back in Cambridge was correct: these suits would primarily be focused on heavy protection and raw power. At least that was something I could draw on previous experience for. The protection provided by those suits wouldn't be on par with that of the combat frames insurrectionists had. The hard armor on those had been titanium, or in some extreme cases, tungsten carbide; these ones were hardened steel which meant I didn't have to get creative, I just had to have a big enough gun.
I glanced down at the sniper rifle's sling over my chest. Would that be enough? Do they have AP rounds? 12.7mm rounds can dig through about a half or three quarters of an inch of hardened steel, how thick were the plates on those suits?
Both of us were quiet for the next few miles, but I occasionally felt Valentine peering at me. I'm sure he was spending more time trying to figure out what I was than how to get to the Institute at this point.
Good luck with that one.
By the time the sun had risen all the way, we were out of the infill surrounding Boston and into the more sporadically 'populated' outskirts of the city. Every quarter mile or so we would encounter a collapsing house or crumbling development along the pock marked and eroded two lane street. It was a relief to be out of the densely packed towers or houses of the metropolitan area; fewer obstacles and better sight lines.
Still haven't engaged any Supermutants…
As we approached another cluster of houses, something looked… off. Several of the houses had doors left ajar, which wouldn't necessarily be a concern if the weathering on the edges was the same as the rest of the door and the surrounding house. Even from 50 meters away, I could see many of them still had paint or bright, unmarred wood where there should have been eroded splinters.
I scanned the area again, looking for more evidence of habitation. It only took a few seconds to find one: the front of one of the houses facing me had its front wall collapse at some point, and a body was lying in the rubble. This one wasn't the discarded bones I'd come to associate with the landscape, but a still lumpy mass of flesh…
My mind flashed back to Cambridge, and the feral ghouls attacking the police station.
I motioned for Valentine to stop.
"Feral ghouls." I pointed to the collapsing house.
"Ah… good eye. They like to sleep in spots like that. Don't know if it's to trap prey or they just don't have the mental capacity to do anything else anymore. You think we should go around?"
They hadn't been an issue in Cambridge, and I doubted there would be a horde anything close to that one here; there weren't enough structures to hide them all. It would be quick and… I could use a little warm up.
"No. Stay behind me, don't fire unless you have to."
I crept forward, eyes darting between each house, looking for more ghouls lying in wait. I spotted four more: another in the same rubble pile as the first, two others on a nearby front porch, and one more resting in the brown, sickly looking grass in front of another house.
For his part, Valentine seemed much more accustomed to sneaking around than Nate. It made sense considering his profession. His steps were still too abrupt and loud, but they were better than the ex-soldier's had been.
We reached the lawn of the closest house where I spotted the first two ghouls and I motioned for the detective to stay put.
None had moved in response to our approach. I slipped to the front porch-
And stopped just before I began climbing the steps. That's something I hadn't considered...
Would the crumbling wood be able to support my weight? There was no way I made it up without making enough sound to wake the neighborhood.
If quiet isn't possible, go in fast and loud.
I could almost hear Katrina's voice.
My legs drove into the ground and I lunged up onto the deck and over to the first sleeping ghoul. The porch groaned under me, flexing worryingly, but it held.
Just as the two prone figures began stirring, I dropped to a knee and plunged my knife in the neck of the first. Blood gurgled passed the blade as it struggled to breath through the blood pouring down its trachea.
I jerked the knife out and blood splashed from the wound, covering my first victim. The second was scrambling to get its feet under it. I swung my arm around and drove the knife between the ghoul's ribs into its heart. The thing flailed on the ground, clutching at my arm as I pulled the knife back out.
Pattering of feet from inside the house caught my attention as more of these things roused themselves. I looked up to see three of them careening through the dilapidated interior toward me.
My legs drove me forward to meet them. I crashed into the first two, knocking them both to the ground. I stomped down on the first's head, crushing it in a shower of blood, bone, and grey matter, as the last one lunged at me, arms outstretched, reaching for my throat. I turned my shoulder in and drove it into the emaciated figure's chest, stopping the thing cold with a wet snap. It dropped to the ground with the other two, trying to get its feet back.
The other I'd slammed into was just regaining its footing when I drove the knife down and punched through it's right eye and into its brain. I felt the tip of the knife collide with the back of the Ghoul's skull right before the berzerker collapsed to the ground.
With the last one still scrambling on the ground, I put it out of its misery with another jab of my knife into its neck-
Gunshots sounded outside accompanied by the detective's distinctive voice throwing profanities at whatever was attacking him. I sprung back out of the house to see two dead Ghouls in the middle of the street with another two hurrying toward a retreating Valentine. The gunshots were going to draw any other Ghouls in the area, but I had told him to fire if necessary.
The detective put the other two down just as they reached him but with the fading reports, the sounds of dozens more scattered around the neighborhood punctuated the problem.
I slipped the knife back under my arm and jogged over to the synth while double checking my rifle.
"We need to move."
"Agreed." Valentine swapped a fresh mag into his 10mm handgun. "Lead the way."
Bare feet pounding on pavement preceded several more rounding the intersection ahead of us, stumbling over one another in their haste to greet us. My rifle was up and a half dozen rounds later, the small group was disposed of. Concern started to creep into the back of my mind like a dark mist with the sounds of many, many more coming from every direction.
I set off at a jog toward the edge of the housing development, fast enough to cover ground, but slow for Valentine to keep up. We may not get away from the Ghouls, but at the very least it would funnel them into one direction.
Only a hundred meters or so separated us from the far edge of the neighborhood, but in the 20 seconds it took us to reach it, both of us were constantly warding off encroaching Ferals. I blazed a path ahead while the detective kept the rear covered. It was… refreshing to see Valentine adapt to the situation so quickly, something I had yet to get from Nate. It was probably a result of the Synth spending who knows how long surviving in a climate where everything, including said environment, was trying to kill him.
It was something I knew all too well: if you couldn't acclimate quickly, you die. Even in the midst of a gunfight, I remembered my DI's favorite line during her 'real world sim training'. "You fail at this, you're gonna leave someone else to clean up your mess, and that would be a major fucking inconvenience."
Trips down memory lane could wait considering the circumstances.
The final intersection was too clogged with cars to comfortably ford through it. The pile of burnt out, rusting vehicles looked like they had a mass collision right before nuclear fire swept over the area. It was an oddly eerie reminder of what happened here.
I skirted around the mass of vehicles and just as I was passing a house to my right, a Ghoul lunged out of the shadows behind the half collapsed building. I batted it aside with the butt of my rifle before putting two rounds through its chest and continuing toward what would, hopefully, be a more defensible posit-
Another careened out from behind an adjacent house and slammed into me. I shoulder checked it like I had before, but before I could put it down for good, another group crashed into my back. The writhing bodies knocked me off balance, which annoyed me more than anything else. These things were mindlessly flinging themselves at me, no strategy outside of 'hey let's run at the guys with guns'.
Even as I regained my footing, several latched on to my armor and tried to pull me down.
Get off of me.
I grabbed one that had wrapped itself around my right leg by the back of the neck and tore it from the limb. I swung the bastard down on second that was grasping for my helmet. Another received a gauntleted punch to the side of its head, and I snatched my handgun before pressing the muzzle to the fourth's head and splattered its brain across the side of a rusted hulk that had once been a car.
Fights like this are annoying.
While extricating myself from the small mound of dead, I finished off the first Ghoul I'd knocked down and clamped the handgun back to my thigh. Valentine was just catching up when I did a quick ammo check on my rifle and began forward once again.
We continued another 50 meters to so past the last intersection before coming to a stop and turning to engage what was left of the shambling group of Ferals. The trail of dead, withered bodies leading out of the neighborhood seemed to make up the majority of its former population. The final dozen Ghouls only took a few moments to dispatch before relative quiet fell back over the area.
After the Triggermen and now these things, with only 3 full and one half mag left, I was running worryingly low on ammo for my rifle. If Kellogg had Institute forces backing him up, I could always scavenge ammo or weapons from them; if he didn't… well ammo probably wouldn't be a problem then.
After a minute massed in silence, and then another, it seemed reasonable to believe no more Ghouls would be coming after us.
"Let's move." I turned and began toward Hagen once again.
"Wha- just like that?"
Yep.
"No more are coming. I don't want to find out if anything heard that."
After another moment's hesitation, I heard the detectives footsteps join my own over the broken pavement."
"Damn", he muttered, "the guy might have been right."
Nate? Nate might have been right about what? Are we supposed to do something else? What good would that do them, they're dead and even if they weren't they were basically animals?
People always assign too much sentimentality to things that don't need it. If someone or something else is trying to kill me, it's they're problem if they end up dead, not mine.
The sun continued its journey into the sky as we trudged through the broken ruins that dotted the landscape. Outside of the occasional wild animal, nothing else made itself known. Still no Supermutants or Gunners, but it sounds like those groups tend to stick to the city.
Maybe Valentine would know why we haven't seen them?
"I thought Supermutants were supposed to be in the area."
"They are… I haven't been this way in a long time, it's possible they put up their settlements in other areas." He frowned. "I know they've been getting more bold with their intrusions into the city, maybe they've set up closer to the Fenway."
Even with as little as I knew about this place, that sounded like it could turn into a problem. "Would they attack the city?"
"Hard to say with those giant bastards, but they're always looking for any opportunity to kill people, so I wouldn't be surprised. I'd be more concerned about the trader routes for now, but that's a problem for another day."
That's true.
"Anything else you can tell me about Kellogg or who he might have with him?"
"Are you worried about him? I don't know if you should be."
"Why?"
The detective glanced over his shoulder; the neighborhood carpeted with now dead Ghouls was well out of sight, but I knew that's what he was getting at.
"It only takes one mistake."
"Really? Seems like you're pretty good at fighting without a plan."
Another montage of images and sensation flashed through my mind: fights with friends when I was young, winding up crying my way home with a new collection of cuts and bruises. Hand to hand training with other III's and DI's; broken bones, dislocated shoulder, fractured jaw. Fighting Sangheili, the first one I killed, I was almost in worse shape than the bastard was by the end of it.
"Getting your ass kicked teaches you to never take an advantage for granted."
A look of astonishment crept across the detective's synthetic features. "You've gotten your ass kicked? By who?"
I met his gaze with silence. You don't perform many interrogations, do you?
"Ah, right, too obvious. Well… I don't think there's much else I can tell you to prepare, mostly because I've never had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of his traps. Probably wouldn't be here if I had. At least, I haven't ever met anyone who was."
If that's the case, the safest approach would be to assume Kellogg's goal is to kill Nate when the ex-soldier comes for him with as little risk as possible. That means a sniper kill or direct engagement with the Synth forces that would likely accompany him. If we were altogether wrong about the theory the Institute wanted Nate to eliminate him, it's possible we were walking into a trap. The most sure fire way of taking care of the problem would be rigging the building, but that seemed extreme for the threat Nate posed.
I would have to do a lot of scouting before I went in.
The rest of the journey passed in silence. The lack of noise I'd come to associate with modern, relatively urban environments was disconcerting, and another stark reminder of where I was and what happened here. Cities always have some form of background noise: people, vehicles, industrial equipment... any combination of random noises you stop noticing after a while. Plenty of my deployments were in extremely urban environments, it was something I'd grown accustomed to, and this is Earth of all places.
The feeling of intense isolation wormed it's way back into my head.
And the question seeped into the back of my mind, like a creeping darkness: what if I can't get back?
A/N: I ruined it! I know, I know, a big part of the story was the MC's revenge for killing their spouse. The problem for me, and how the story has formed, is Damon is utterly pragmatic (though there are definitely some emotional issues happening), and Nate goes against that in his mind. Besides, let's be real here, realistically Kellogg would whoop Nate's ass canonically, it's something that has always bugged me about Fallout 4. So what did I do to fix it? Threw a SPARTAN at the problem (hey, if it's good enough for the UNSC, it's good enough for me). I'll see everyone next time!