Vault 114
 November the 14th, 2287
 23:23

In his line of work, everyone knew the dangers of taking on any case, especially missing person's cases in the Commonwealth, and most especially missing person's cases out of Diamond City.

What Nick Valentine had not known was he would himself become a missing person.

Vault 114. It was never going to be a particularly pleasant place, not with the people he knew would be there, but he hadn't expected it to be something of a living hell. He had not expected, either, to find the woman he had been sent to find had left of her own accord. Shit, Darla, how many times have you caused your parents to have to send people after you? First the 'Pillars Of The Community' nonsense, then Covenant, and, now, this? Finding you on your way home from Covenant was the only good thing about that. Those people seemed unsettled by me. But this? Taking up with a meat head like Skinny? You have got to be kidding me… He sighed, and sat down against one of the tables stuck in the room he had been locked up in. The room was larger than he had expected it to be, but had grown to be little more than a slightly nicer prison. At least, compared to the prison in Diamond City. Wonder if they've got the young woman who writes the paper still locked up in there. She's a good one, Piper, and she doesn't deserve to be constantly in and out of prison. He sighed, and took a look around the room. The Vault 114 Overseer's Office. Had Vault-Tec been successful, the Vault would be filled with either wealthy or formerly wealthy people. It wasn't entirely clear, not from what he had been able to find in the room.

Vault-Tec and the Vaults were, themselves, a rabbit hole he had begun down at more than one time over the past three decades alone. Being locked in the Overseer's Office of a Vault would have, at one point, been something of a dream. This, however, was far from any good or mildly intriguing dream.

"You going to let me out of here, at some point, Dino?" Nick finally said, caught somewhere between boredom and annoyance. "Or are you just going to leave me in here until Skinny gets tired of this damn charade?"

"Skinny knows what he's doing," Dino said, kicking against the magnetically locked door. "This excite you, Valentine? Some sounds of metal getting beat?"

"You talking about me?" Nick scoffed. "I'm not just metal, Dino," He said, losing all of the sarcasm in his voice. "I'm a synth. Synthetic man. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells. How many chems are you on? Or is Skinny still hoarding chems for himself?"

"If you mean you got an idea of where Marowski's chem lab is, then you'll probably be able to get out of here if you cough that up," Dino replied. "Unless you've been lying all this time and are just waiting for the Institute to come get you."

"The Institute have no interest in me, I think we'd know by now if they had wanted me," Nick told him. "If they wanted something to do with me, they would have come and found me sometime sooner after they wiped my damned brain somewhere around a century ago. Make of that what you will, Dino, but I'm far from an Institute priority, if that's what you're thinking."

"Keep running your mouth, Valentine," Dino said, rummaging through one of his bags. "It will be at least entertaining for me, whether you're lying or not. Why don't we get back around to the thing that might actually get you out of here: Marowski."

"Marowski is a pain in the ass who has his lackeys muscle people up around Goodneighbour," Nick said irritably. "I've had a few interactions with him over the years, and they weren't good. He's never been a fan of me, and certainly not enough to show or tell me about where he makes or keeps his chems."

"Great," Dino said, lighting up a cigarette. "What else are you lying about?"

"Why would I lie about something that stupid?" Nick said, rolling his eyes. "You really think I wouldn't hand over Marowski to Skinny to get out of a place like this? You're even dumber than I thought."

"Guess it's hard to seem intelligent to someone like you," Dino said, puffing on his cigarette. "You know, because you're a goddamn synth. I would kill to know what you've got going on in there. Got to admit, I'm real jealous."

"Maybe if you took the time to do something other than being a hired gun for Skinny, you could outsmart him and take this whole operation out," Nick said, swinging his legs back and forth from where he was sat atop one of the desks. "And, afterwards, maybe you could take up Marowski's chem lab. Or you could take up with another aspiring crime boss in Goodneighbour. Bobbi No Nose comes to mind."

Dino snorted. "Who the hell would refer to Marowski as anything but a former crime boss? Losing your touch, are you, Valentine?"

"Former crime bosses can aspire to be back in the swing of things again," Nick said, coughing a bit. "You know, it may not waft in here, but I can still smell that god awful cig you're smoking, Dino, even if the air in here stays relatively clean. Thank God, for me, at least. You should find a new drug of choice. I've heard mentats can be good fun."

"If I want to take hard drugs, I'm going to start taking some psycho," Dino said, kicking the door again to try to startle the aged detective. "Maybe then Skinny will give me better work than playing babysitter to you, or whomever else he decides to hold hostage. The hell made you think coming after him would be a bright idea, anyways?"

"Darla's parents were real worried about her, not that she or any of you assholes care, clearly," Nick said irritably. "And all signs seemed to be that Skinny kidnapped her. Guess we were the fools for not calling bullshit on her stunts by now. This isn't the first time she's run off with a lover, and definitely won't be the last, not if she doesn't stop hanging around with that girl, Emogene Cabot, I think, her name is."

"Sounds like a you problem, not one for the rest of us," Dino taunted. "Darla's doing just dandy for herself, and hooking up with Skinny, even for a short while, is a pretty damn good deal."

Nick snickered. "Speaking from experience, I hope?"

Dino stubbed out his cigarette, briefly imagining it to be the detective's head.

"Oh, shut your fucking mouth, you old pervert."

Cambridge Police Station
 November the 16th, 2287
 17:15

"I received a transmission, a short one, from Elder Maxson now I've gotten the amplifier to our radio beacon and signaller running on the roof of the police station. He has a short reply for you, Paladin Danse, and a rather important one concerning the Prydwen. Our Brothers did quite well in retrieving the last part we needed to guarantee the signaller's operation from ArcJet Systems. I'm quite proud to be serving with them and you, Paladin."

"Thank you for the report, Scribe Haylen. Ad Victoriam."

"Ad Victoriam, Paladin Danse."

With a short bow, the Scribe exited the room, leaving the Paladin to his thoughts. More importantly, she left him to his computer terminal, in which he inserted the holotape she had handed him with the reply and set it to play. In such a short time, as was expected of them as Reconnaissance Squad Gladius, they had established a secure checkpoint within which the Brotherhood could continue to expand operations within the Commonwealth. An odd place lay beyond its walls, a place bound not by reason, logic, or hierarchy but by ruthlessness, hedonism, and violence. This odd place was quite the spectacle, as well, in no small part due to those qualities which seemed to pervade every piece of it, no matter how miniscule. This odd place, too, was filled to the brim and overflowing with creatures – if they could even be called such – which were barely even human. Savages. Abominations. Some of them, the Paladin reasoned, were worth sympathy. Ghouls, feral or otherwise, came to mind. Others, however, needed to be eliminated. Super mutants. His nose began to wrinkle in disgust at just the mere thought. The Brotherhood's intelligence had suggested they, too, were created by the Institute, an organisation centred on destroying the sacred vessels of true, pure life.

Super mutants, however, were not their worst creation, not in the slightest. They alone would not have been enough for the Brotherhood to move so quickly towards the Commonwealth in just a few short years of intelligence, reconnaissance, and preparation. Indeed, as Elder Maxson had made clear, it was not a decision made lightly, nor was it one which should be taken lightly.

No, the worst creations of the Institute were what the Brotherhood had identified as synths. Disgruntled at the notion, the Paladin stepped out of his power armour by the window, and took in the slowly falling night below and outside.

The ambushes by gunners and raiders were only the tip of the iceberg of the depravity in this place once renowned for its intellectually bound institutions. The Paladin frowned as his thoughts began to meander. They are a mild nuisance. The real enemy is much more subtle, and, in that sense, they are much more dangerous and mutable.

The Paladin shut the windows fully as wind began to fly in. He listened as it pounded against them before relenting into a dull whimper. He took in the room, now air tight, and took in a deep breath of relief he methodically let out.

Then, after a moment of stretching, consideration, and ensuring he would not be eavesdropped on nor disturbed, the Paladin sat down before his terminal and began to write.

Elder Maxson, Lancer Captain Kells –

It is with the most duty bound spirit that I offer this impassioned plea. In this reply, I am requesting access to the list of former Brotherhood members whom themselves may be lost in the Commonwealth. If we are to truly carry out our mission and save mankind from itself in this place, then it is my conviction we must take the noble route of extending the olive branch to our former Brothers and Sisters. Though some of them may have left the Brotherhood in disgrace, to give them the opportunity to redeem themselves is one way by which we can show not only them but the entire Commonwealth our intentions are to promote stability, safety, and security for all of its people.

My beseeching aside, I am prepared to take under my charge any of our Brothers and Sisters you may deem necessary to aiding our operations in establishing control of the situation in Cambridge. From local talk, I have heard rumours we may be nearby the Institute in this place. Any additional reconnaissance could prove invaluable, and I am more than willing, prepared, and happy to assist in this 'Institute's' destruction in any manner deemed necessary. Additionally, if any work is required to upkeep and protect the Prydwen once you are able to arrive with it, I would be most humbled to be a part of such a historic event. Our mission is a grave one which we have undertaken as a solemn oath to protect and preserve humanity. Should the Brotherhood fall and crumble, so too will humanity. I shall do everything with the power vested in me by my charters and commands to carry out this mission. Indeed, it is one we must not fail.

Ad Victoriam,

Paladin Jackson Roger Danse

His mind growing a tad weary, the Paladin retrieved a blank holotape from within the desk his terminal was sat upon. Almost robotically, he loaded it into the terminal upon the ejection of the one his most trusted Scribe had brought him, and awaited the message to be downloaded to the tape. Come the morning, at precisely 05:00, he would bring the tape up to the rooftop of the dilapidated police station so the Knight could take it and attempt to reach the weak radio signal connecting them to the Prydwen four hundred and forty one miles away in the Capital Wasteland. Catching him by surprise, a smile began to cross his otherwise stern and certain countenance. Nothing in the message was untrue. Some of it, he reasoned, could be quite the understatement. Soon enough, the time would come for the people of the Commonwealth to learn of the Prydwen. It would be not a threat nor menace, nor would it be an Institute ploy. If it were anything, the Prydwen was, in and of itself, the physical embodiment of the Institute's antithesis. Within its hallowed, metal walls, the people it held were themselves the living and physical embodiment of the Institute's antithesis. He stood up, and approached the window by which his power armour was standing. It, too, was a reminder of the sacred mission.

"Ad Victoriam, so the future of this Commonwealth can be a prosperous one," The Paladin said, rolling his shoulders back with a heavy sigh. "Ad Victoriam for today, for tomorrow, and for always."

The Commonwealth
November the 20th, 2287
12:49

"Sorry for making you wait," Derek said, helping pull Nora up onto a strip of old highway. "None of us expected some of those raiders from Concord to follow us all the way to Sanctuary, and with the detour when we took Preston to –"

"It's alright, breathe," Nora said, waiting for the already pale man to regain some colour to his face as he caught his breath. "I didn't expect it to be a clear shot to Diamond City, and I had no expectations for it to take less than at least a few weeks. I don't mind the pace we've had to take at all, and, like Preston said: we're stronger if we stick together."

"He's right," Derek nodded shortly, reloading his gun. "And thank you again for taking me to your Vault. I know it must have been painful, but I hope you know there's a reason for it. A necessary reason, if I'm being completely honest."

"You needed twelve Pip-Boys, it was the only place to find them," Nora eyed him strangely as he adjusted his backpack on his shoulders. "You briefly mentioned it, but why do you need them?"

"Well, six of them are for me, my wife, and our four kids," Derek briefly chuckled but quickly lost all humour to his voice. "The other six are needed for…friends of my wife. They do important work, work which could really benefit from these. I'm just glad I was able to find them rather quickly."

Nora managed half a smile. "You seem familiar enough with Vaults. Research I assume?"

"Research, as well as my time as a Knight Captain in the Brotherhood Of Steel, back in the Capital Wasteland, where, the more you know, the better able to negotiate you are," He replied as they began walking again. "When my family and I relocated here and to Diamond City, I had to turn over my power armour, but I kept a few things I perhaps was not supposed to. Regardless, I won't bore you with stories of then."

"Give me at least a little," Nora said with a shrug. "I know next to nothing about the Capital Wasteland, and, truthfully, there's a lot I wish I knew about the Commonwealth...in the state it's in now, anyways."

"I think we all feel that way these days," Derek shook his head. "We had actually lived farther south, in the Virginia Commonwealth, where my wife's family home underground is, for several years before moving closer to the Brotherhood's base of operations, called the Citadel. We lived closer to it in Rivet City until we...ended up here. I spent a lot of time away from home for Brotherhood work, but it was good money and, at the time, a good service. But they've lost their way since I left. That was why I left in the first place."

"With a name like the Brotherhood Of Steel, I suppose it makes sense they could lose their way," Nora paused in thought. "In terms of serving the people, that is."

"We were meant to protect people, not harm anyone unless we had to," Derek said grimly. "My family and I were sent here because I defended – with my life – the right of people who called themselves the 'Children Of Atom' to worship in peace."

Nora eyed him strangely. "Children Of Atom? Who are they?"

"A religious…movement of sorts," Derek explained. "To say the very least, they're an odd crew, worship radiation and, at one point, an undetonated nuclear warhead which was, thankfully, quickly neutralised and disarmed. It can no longer explode or do damage. That was not enough for our leadership, however. They wanted to kill them."

"I can see why you left," Nora said, drawing her gun upon hearing shouting in the distance. "Fuck, not more raiders."

"We can go around them, this way," Derek said, motioning for her to quickly and quietly follow him over an old bridge. "We step down from the highway, cross the bridge, and follow the signs towards Diamond City. We should be there by nightfall, if all goes well."

"Wait," Nora said, pausing in the centre of the bridge and grabbing his wrist to stop him from going too far ahead. "You said you need half of the Pip-Boys for important work your wife and her friends do. Do they work in Diamond City."

"In a manner of speaking," Derek said shortly. "It will be best if you meet her first. I'm not at liberty to explain."

"Alright," Nora took a look at the river still flowing beneath them. The War hasn't changed everything, so much is still where I remember. But some of the most important things aren't. "What's your wife's name again?"

"Hadley," Derek replied. "Her name is Hadley."

Nora nodded. "What does she look like?"

"She's just as pale as myself and our kids but her hair is a much darker brown than mine," He said with a slightly wistful smile. "She's petite, too, only 5'0" but, if I may be completely forthright with you, I…our family and I believe wholeheartedly in what she does, and I promise it will save lives."

"As long as it saves lives, I'm listening and happy to help," Nora sighed. "I want more than anything to save my son, to find him, and Nate. But, as much as I hate it, I know things could be…there are things I may never know or find, no matter how desperate I am for answers or to find them."

"Don't give up hope," Derek said, jumping over a ledge and onto a main road. "You haven't been out here very long. None of you have."

"Wherever they are, I just hope they're together," Nora said softly, flinching at the sounds of shouting and gunshots ringing out in the distance before they continued off in the opposite direction. "And I hope they escaped whoever took them."

"I think I might know someone who could help you in looking for them," Derek told her. "But that will have to wait until we reach Diamond City, if only because he lives and works there."

"I…thank you," Nora said, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry. I…I…"

"Please, don't worry about being emotional," Derek kindly said. "You have every reason to be. Frankly, it would be more shocking if you took everything in stride."

Nora laughed a little. "I appreciate the consideration. For now…let's keep up the pace."

The Institute
 November the 23rd, 2287
 21:12

"Are you feeling alright? I'm sure the scans and blood draws this last week have been draining."

"I believe I only need rest. Please don't worry too much for my sake, not now."

"You're my son, Shaun. As your mother had, I'll always worry about you no matter how old we become."

Of all the things which had changed since that one fateful day in 2077, the one which had not was the bond between the father and the then infant who had stepped into Vault 111. Sitting down across from each other on a balcony overlooking much of the Institute below, Nathaniel Norwich and Shaun Norwich were briefly able to forget how different their lives were than what life looked like when they entered Vault 111. Nathaniel sighed, and began to drink some water a synth had brought to them for the purpose. The two men found themselves, for a moment, lost in thought. Shaun's suggestion to release Nora is something that should have been done long before. If only he and I could have had a chance to reunite with her sooner. Damn the former Director. She handled everything all wrong. Separating a family is something no one should do. Nora. I wonder if you'll remember us, and still care. Will you still call me Nate in the way you had all those years ago, or will you reject us? Reject me, and our son? Though life was going on all around them, everything felt still in his body and mind. To remember the first twenty five years of his life was to immerse himself in a world of pain and dizzying memory. Everyone in Vault 111 but Nora had been released at the same time they were. Nearly everyone he had ever known were long gone or, at the very least, long lost.

If only Shaun had been able to know his grandparents. They would be so proud of him, just as I am.

"Things have been going quite well around here, lately," Nate observed. "Though I am concerned about some of our ongoing surface operations. Destroying the headquarters of the so-called Railroad over the summer seems to have only emboldened them."

"It's quite strange," Shaun agreed. "What is just as strange is their leader. I believe her name is Desdemona, if our intelligence is completely accurate."

"I would need to look again, but that is the name I recall, yes," Nate said with a sigh. "I will never understand that woman. She's not the type of person who can be reasoned with."

"I will admit, I could be interested in a conversation with her," Shaun said tiredly. "But I have no desire to talk things out with her. You're absolutely correct: she cannot be reasoned with."

"It's a shame, what has become of the Commonwealth," Nate shook his head. "I only wish you could remember some of what the world was like before. It was a wonderful world, albeit an imperfect one. But, now, it can only be described as…"

He trailed off, batting away something from the edge of the balcony. A nuisance. It had been flitting up and down for nearly half an hour.

Dr. Holdren needs to slow the Synth Zoological Initiative. I've been seeing far too many synth bees around the Institute lately. They're a nuisance…although not unlike the real ones from before the War.

What neither Nate or Shaun knew was the synth bees were a much smaller piece of Clayton Holdren's passion project than they had been beginning to believe.

What neither man knew was two young kids had been listening in on them nearly the entire time through a miniscule camera and recorder they had attached to one of Clayton's synth bees.

Quickly flying the synth bee away from the Director and his father, sixteen year old Jacqueline Spencer and eight year old Quentin Filmore hurriedly pulled the remote earbuds out of their ears. They began walking as though they had been doing nothing out of the ordinary, and both of them let out a sigh of relief when they realised they were only being taken of note by a few synths preoccupied by whatever else they were already doing. Within a few seconds of the two adoptive siblings beginning up the stairs to the family apartment, Jacqueline caught the synth bee in her hands and slipped it into her pocket. I can remove the device and discreetly return it to Dr. Holdren later. It had become almost a routine for the siblings since they had first been introduced two years prior. Every so often, the siblings would become curious about one or more of the Institute's personnel. It was the Director and his father whom the siblings found themselves most often curious about. Even as they swiped their ID cards to get back into the family apartment, it was clear both of them were bursting with things to say.

"Jacq, is the surface really as bad as Mister Nate says?" Quentin stared at his sister with wide eyes when the doors to the family apartment closed. "Since you're from there and go back sometimes?"

"It can be," Jacq said, walking towards her room to brush out her hair again. "But only in some places. It wasn't bad where I'm from. And Dr. Li came from an even more broken part of the surface, the former Capital! The surface is okay if you're in the right places, great even. You just have to be careful."

"Is that why mom only sometimes goes up there?" Quentin pressed. "And only in a super strong hazmat suit? Do you ever need one of those?"

"I don't," Jacq replied. "Dr. Li doesn't always go up in a hazmat suit, either. But Allie has never lived on the surface, so I get why she's paranoid. I think I would be too."

"I guess that makes sense," Quentin shrugged but then suddenly perked up upon the doors to the family apartment opening again. He suddenly ran to the doors, and grinned when he saw his father, who embraced him briefly. "Jacq has some really interesting stories about the surface! Have you ever gone?"

"Not since I came here," Nathan said, laughing a moment with his son. "Is your mother home yet?"

Quentin shook his head. "Did she have to see the people doctor again or is she still working? You know, I hope she has a girl, because I want a little sister since I already have a big sister."

"The baby isn't big enough to tell yet, Quentin," Nathan said, unable to hide his amusement. "Now, please tell me you haven't been giving Jacq trouble with studying after school today."

Railroad Headquarters
 November the 24th, 2287
 13:31

"He's got them. Derek managed to get all six, working Pip-Boys Tom said he needed."

Not giving her the chance to react after she set down the bag with six Pip-Boys inside, the eccentric inventor and codebreaker tightly embraced Hadley, startling her. Desdemona and Glory quickly pulled him off her, and Tom gave them all a somewhat goofy grin. Stepping into the room from analysing PAM, Deacon lit up a cig and began clapping, dramatically taking his sunglasses off with his free hand. On the other side of the room, Drummer Boy grimaced upon Tom pulling out a box filled with a variety pack of Nuka Colas, setting them down on top of all of the maps laid out on the centre table. Glory began to mutter something under her breath, something he assumed would be along the lines of sarcastic things she had said before. Hadley merely watched, seemingly amused, and Desdemona, similarly, watched the two men go back and forth as they so often did. In some ways, the day, so far, was one of the best they had been given in a long time. Everything about the playful arguing, and the way things seemed to, for once, be stable for them was a relief. In an ideal world, things would stay this way, and they would be able to calmly, happily, and easily help synths. The Institute would be a minor annoyance. But none of that was a reality, and never was going to be long term. Not now. Not in the state of the world as it stood.

"Nuka Cola Strawberry will be found, one of these days," Tom said, leaning across the table. "You will be proven wrong, Deacon."

"Right, right," Deacon rolled his eyes, taking a draw on his cig. "You know, if you find that shit, it probably is going to be some experimental bullshit."

"Or it will taste disgusting," Hadley said, her nose wrinkling at the thought. "Nuka Cola and anything remotely similar to a strawberry should not coalesce in a flavour profile. Just the thought of it sounds awful. I won't be surprised if something like that ends up tasting like battery acid."

"You mean like Nuka Cola Cranberry?" Glory rolled her eyes. "I tried that, once. It was revolting."

"Nothing is worse than Nuka Cola Grape, at least according to my kids," Hadley remarked. "I happen to agree with them. It tastes like cough syrup. Even Derek thinks that, and he likes just about every kind of Nuka Cola he has ever come across."

"I may be biased, but I happen to enjoy Nuka Cola Orange, whenever I can come across it," Desdemona said, lighting a cig of her own. "But I, admittedly, have sought out Quantum when I've needed to be able to stay up all night or for a few days, at times."

"Desdemona, please," Carrington looked up from the microscope slides he had been taking notes on. "I hope you know how awful Quantum is for you. Or anyone, for that matter."

"You're free to test any Nuka Colas that come into HQ for their rad levels if it would make you feel better," Desdemona replied. "Would that satisfy you, as a practitioner of medicine?"

Carrington gave her a disgruntled scowl. "You're taking your health far too flippantly, Desdemona, something which you always have, infuriatingly, done."

"She has a morbid sense of humour, Doc," Glory said, crossing her arms. "I thought we all accepted that by now. Even Tom plays into it."

"Of course I do," Tom said, winking at her and Desdemona. "We have to find ways to lighten the mood around here every so often."

"I agree," Deacon said, chewing on the edge of his sunglasses. "We talk about heavy shit around here. I mean, we even have some of our agents referred to as 'Heavys' because of the work they do. So a bit of levity is called for, you know. Give it a think, Carrington."

"Deacon," The doctor irritably said. "Considering the odd things you've been known to consider 'levity,' I really don't think you should be dominating a conversation on the subject."

"I mean, listen, come on," Deacon said, laughing. "I do and say odd things all the time. Calm down, Carrington, everyone knows I am –"

"You're just trying to confuse us, now," Tom pulled a Nuka Dark from the crate and pushed it across the table towards him. "You also are a time traveller, and you know it."

"Alright, that's enough," Desdemona said, tiredly waving a hand. "We do have something to genuinely celebrate. Tom," She smiled when the eccentric inventor perked up. "How long will it take you to analyse and adapt the Pip-Boys for our purposes?"

"I need to add some strong stealth technology to them," He eagerly replied. "Especially for you and Glory. I'll probably make some Tinker Tom specialities for my own, and we'll figure things out for the shared ones for the other Heavys to use."

"I'm looking forward to getting to see what you do with them," Deacon said almost wistfully. "You do a lot of cool shit off the cuff sometimes."

"Well, regardless, we'll figure the needs for the other three Pip-Boys as we go along," Desdemona said, tapping excess ash off her cig. "Focus on the three immediate alterations. At the end of the day, they're a new tool to make it easier for us to continue our work against the Institute."

"Indeed. Though, I must ask," Carrington put in, eyeing the rest of the group closely. "How did Derek manage to find the Pip-Boys to begin with?"

"He and the Minutemen have a new friend, actually, herself only having woken up in a Vault recently. It's not the right time yet, of course, but…" Hadley shook her head. "I do wonder if she could be helpful to us in our fight to save as many synths as we can, especially after what the Institute did to the Switchboard."

"So, once again we are interloping with the Minutemen," Deacon smirked. "It's a good partnership, even if they don't know much about us if they know anything at all. Though I get the sense that their leader…his name is Preston, right? I get the sense that he would be all in favour with our cause. He cares a lot about the good people of the Commonwealth. And I can just about guarantee you that extends to synths."

Carrington eyed him strangely. "You say this as though you have inside knowledge on it."

"My job is to gather intel on people of interest," Deacon shrugged. "He works with Lay's husband, and I've been shadowing the traveller," He gave Hadley an apologetic look. "The woman who came out of the Vault. I've been shadowing her because I think it's fascinating. When was the last time anyone heard anything about activity out of that Vault? Vault 111, isn't it? Actually, wait! PAM! Do you –"

"Our records indicate the only other time, since the War of October the 23rd, 2077, Vault 111 has been active was about sixty years ago when there was a mass exodus from the Vault," PAM walked into the room upon being called from the mainframe. "Their activities afterward were menial. They all entered the Commonwealth and resumed their lives. Only one person did not emerge. Cross-checking with citizenship and registration records from 2000 until 2077."

"See!" Deacon exclaimed almost too excitedly. "This is a big break! The traveller could be the sole survivour of the Vault post 2227! From what I've seen, even when they weren't with Derek or the Minutemen, they seem to be compassionate and reasonable! Frankly, my hope is that we can recruit them in this time of –"

"You're rushing to conclusions, Deacon," Glory calmly put in. "And please don't compromise the security standards you've worked so hard to build with Des and Carrington off a leap of hope."

"Don't worry, I won't," Deacon sighed. "But, come on. Don't you guys have any faith in me?"

"That's not a question you want honest answers to," Carrington warned him. "Certainly not from me."

"Regardless, I'll admit this development is intriguing," Desdemona said, sending them both a pointed look. "I say we all should keep an eye on this, and wait to make any decisions until we are certain we know what we are getting into. The lives of so many synths are at stake. We owe it to them to be cautious, even at the detriment of broadening our operations and extending the cause to free them."