Vault 81
June the 3rd, 2289
10:27
That there were two Vaults within Vault 81 was something, from what Sturges Presley had uncovered and Hancock had been told by him, they had thought no one in the Vault would know about.
Finding out one of the Vault's residents had known about it and had been using it to store his chems, both stolen and legitimately purchased was, then, something of a shock.
Sturges and Hancock having told the young man in question to let them go alone, and with Hancock having bribed him with a small bag of jet and daytripper, the moment the door to the main Vault closed behind them left them certain they had made the right choice to go alone. The 'secret' Vault was in disarray; parts of unfinished flooring, hefty steel boxes, and a myriad of other items were littered about. Moving slowly, their weapons in hand, the two men slowly made their way through the corridor in front of them before turning around the first corner they saw, a few lights flickering and struggling to stay lit. Finding a staircase, they quickly made their way up it, pausing only when they heard the sounds of scuttering and distant squeals of mole rats, the warning the Vault's doctor had given them still ringing out in the ears. Whatever disease Austin has contracted most likely came from a mole rat in that place. De Luca putting himself in danger by storing his drugs there was one thing but being so irresponsible as to let Austin follow him in there is another. If you can find anything in there to cure Austin, then great, but, at the very least, put down the infestation before it can spread into our Vault. The sounds of a mole rat darting up the stairs startling both men, they whipped around and quickly shot it down, spreading out as much as possible on the stairs to shoot down more of the mole rats coming out of their hidden burrows after the first. A few minutes of shooting and careful sliding out of the way of some of the quicker and more aggressive creatures, and they were able to reach the top of the stairs and cross over the threshold onto the second floor of the 'secret' Vault.
Taking a look around as they reloaded their guns, the mechanic and the mayor turned down the better lit of two corridors, keeping their eyes peeled and their ears open for any more of the diseased mole rats. Though the corridor was both better lit and in a better state than the one they had entered from, the clear signs of disarray, decay, and abandonment were abundant. The hum of electricity and the crackling and popping sounds of some of the lights struggling to stay active worrying him, Sturges took a look at his Pip-Boy and began a reading with its Geiger counter. Hancock slowed when he heard the other man's steps stop, the two of them waiting until the reading finished. Satisfied they were not about to walk into a bath of radiation by continuing down the corridor, Sturges gave Hancock a thumbs up to tell him to keep going and, as soon as he was caught up to the eccentric mayor of Goodneighbour, so they did. A wall partially collapsed in on the left side towards the end of the corridor, they hesitated before entering the room it led into, both surprised and unsettled to find it to be a bunk; three sets of bunk beds, desks, chairs, dressers, and a myriad of household supplies were left laying around, as though the previous occupants had left in a rush. Taking the opportunity to take any and all chems and weapons he could find, Hancock hummed to himself while Sturges crossed to the other side of the room from the collapsed wall they had entered from to try and open a proper door into, he hoped, the rest of the 'secret' Vault.
"I know whatever Vault-Tec had planned to go on between this Vault and the main one was definitely going to have been fucked up, but, hey, the previous residents left us the good stuff," Hancock grinned at Sturges as he threw the last few things he could find into his bag. "Must have had some real big wigs in here, because these aren't just everyday chems like cheap jet or psycho."
Sturges raised an eyebrow when Hancock sauntered over to him, pushing the button to open the door which, to his relief, did so despite creaking and scraping while it raised.
"They made crazy and diseased mole rats down here," He reminded him as they stepped through the door and into another dilapidated corridor. "And, before you even think about it," He told him, grabbing him by the arm before he could go up to a water fountain. "Let's keep going. I ain't going to be able to keep my nerves about me if you're writhing on the floor from poisoning."
Hancock grimaced. "Putting it that way, I agree. Let's go. I like danger and all but death by Vault water ain't on my list, especially because it'd make my nice, new Vault suit all useless."
"Whatever keeps you motivated," Sturges said, suddenly shoving him behind a set of boxes when the sound of gunfire began to ring out. "Motherfucker!"
"Guess Vault-Tec wanted to keep their dirty secrets safe," Hancock muttered, swearing as he reloaded his gun. "Alright, let's get this over with."
A few seconds passed and the two men tried to regain their bearings. Feeling sure enough he could at least accurately handle and fire his gun, Hancock slipped out from behind the boxes first, scanning the corridor down which the gunshots were still running before stepping into it. Quickly finding the source of the gunfire, he caught it in his sights and pulled the trigger, staying as far out of its line of fire as possible. Sturges joining him, albeit more cautiously, it was only a minute or two before the turret was (forcibly) disabled. Taking the chance to see if he could find the control panel for the 'secret' Vault's security mechanisms, Sturges let out a short sigh in frustration, only to suddenly turn around at the sound of heavy, clanking steps behind him and a nearing, mechanical voice. Fear latching onto him, expecting the worst, his frustration only grew when he found himself staring down a half broken Protectron. He gave Hancock a slightly grateful look when the other man shot the thing down, rendering it completely useless, and, resisting the urge to tug at his hair, made his way quickly down the corridor, turning left when they reached a dead end just barely illuminated by red safety lights. A bit surprised to step into another bunk, the mechanic frowned when Hancock seemed close to becoming distracted again, and took him by the wrist and out of the bunk towards a set of stairs going down.
Hearing the sounds of gunfire again and unsure of what in their movements was, more than likely, triggering them, Sturges all but ran towards a blinking computer terminal almost hidden off the side of the stairs when they reached the bottom. Either not noticing or not caring, Hancock began to fire on the turrets the second he found them before, the moment they were done for and shorted out, all but skipping towards the room they had passed by from the bottom of the stairs. Not paying him much mind, and struggling to keep his eyes focused on the slow loading computer terminal under dim, red safety lights, Sturges' fingers tapped up and down against the side of the machine as it struggled to load. When it did, he quickly got to work trying to manually bypass the password lock. Losing track of time, the computer terminal more than a little fussy, he didn't notice, at first, when Hancock came back from the other room and stood no more than half a foot away from him. The moment the computer terminal let him in, however, he briefly paused to turn and glance at Hancock, who came a little closer to watch him as he worked. They both swore in relief when he reached the controls panel to find the computer was wired to the entire Vault and not just one sector, and, the second he found the commands to do so, Sturges input the protocol to shut down 'physical security' mechanisms, waiting for the system to inform him it had done so.
The sounds of any and all whirring, crackling, and movement stopped. Getting a pop up message on the screen, Sturges smiled and fist bumped Hancock the second he finished reading it.
Laser and artillery turrets deactivated. Protectrons shutting down.
Giving the programme a few seconds to ensure nothing more needed to be done, Sturges finally logged out and shut down the computer. Anxiety began to leave him, feeling much safer, and he quickly started down another corridor with Hancock following tight on his heels. Going down a ramp and into a surprisingly intact end of the Vault, the two men paused for a moment before turning left where the corridor branched off. The mostly stable lighting and finished floors made the exposed pipes and wall construction almost ominous, something they tried not to dwell on as they snaked their way through. It almost felt better when they reached the end and stepped into another, dirt covered room with its walls partially broken and its lighting uneven. Hearing the squealing of more mole rats did away with that feeling in an instant. Stepping to opposite sides so as to avoid accidentally shooting each other, Hancock and Sturges began firing as rapidly as they could at the creatures, all but bolting towards and up a set of stairs the second they noticed it, firing down at them all the way up. Seeing another set of stairs going up, they quickly went up it too, barely able to catch their breath before almost slamming into a shut, metal security gate that, to both their surprise and relief, was unlocked.
A little disoriented, Sturges nearly slipped when a mole rat, seemingly out of nowhere, ran past his feet. Shooting it dead with one hand, Hancock grabbed onto Sturges' right wrist with the other, stopping him from falling over. Suspicious upon seeing another security gate at the other end of the room, both men reloaded their guns and dusted themselves off before approaching it, the feeling of suspicion only growing when it, too, turned out to be unlocked. A burrow of mole rats partly exposed at the bottom of the staircase the gate opened onto, Hancock and Sturges opened fire before stepping down. The diseased creatures came out and up the stairs at them. Firing on them as quickly and accurately as they could, they only stopped briefly when their guns needed to be reloaded. By the time the barrage of mole rats ceased, a veritable pile of their carcasses had formed at the bottom of the stairs. Careful not to step on them and risk skin contact with them, Sturges made his way down first, Hancock soon after him. Finding a sliding door to the left of where the staircase dropped off, Sturges hit the button to open it, raising an eyebrow when he looked into the corridor it led into. Hancock, too, paused and let out a long, low whistle at the sight of a, while unevenly lit and messy, nearly normal Vault opening at the end of the short corridor. Wary of the potential of running into more mole rats, they went slowly, still having their guns at the ready, before climbing a tight set of stairs going up. Sturges narrowly looked over what was before them when they crossed the threshold, a computer terminal on the wall no more than a few feet from the top of the stairs and another sliding door to the right of it catching his eyes.
Peeking around the left corner, he startled upon seeing more mole rats before frowning when he noticed they were all dead and in varying states of decay. Do those buggers cannibalise each other when they ain't got anything else to feed on? Or are we not the first people down here recently? Much less cautious, Hancock stepped past him to get a better, closer look, while the mechanic approached the computer terminal and turned it on. Relieved to find it working, he only paused, again, when he realised how quickly it was working; it was almost as functional as if it were new. Anxiety began to pool in his chest, sinking down into his stomach, and he holstered his gun to focus on accessing the computer beyond its login screen. The feeling did not ease when he got into the computer, nor did it when he accessed its commands. Careful to ensure he didn't accidentally trigger any potential security measures in the area, Sturges startled when Hancock came back with a handful of holotapes and his bag a bit strained from the amount of new things he had stuffed into it. Hitting the button to unlock and open the door to his right, Sturges felt only a little less nervous when nothing came running of it and at them. He stopped suddenly when they reached the top of the stairs the door had been hiding. Hancock startled, too, at finding the room at the top of the stairs to be well lit, almost good as new, and, stranger still, with another room locked behind another door on the wall with a large window showing something of a laboratory.
"Damn," Hancock said, dusting off his coat. "You were right. Definitely had some experimental goals here, and –"
"Hello?" A muffled voice called, causing both men to jump but quickly ease upon realising it, most likely, came from a white Mister Handy unit that had approached the laboratory's large window. "Are you from Vault-Tec? I have waited so very patiently for you to arrive."
Sturges and Hancock glanced between each other for a moment before, gesturing to the Pip-Boy on his wrist, Sturges slowly approached the window and nodded.
"Sure, I am," He said a bit uncomfortably. "What have you been doing in here for…you been here a long time, I'm guessing."
"Since 2077," The unit replied in its unusual, feminine French accent. "I am a Contagions Vulnerability Robotic Infirmary Engineer, or, a CVRIE. The human scientists call me Curie or…more properly, they called me Curie when they were alive."
"When they were alive?" Hancock said with a shudder when he approached the window. "You didn't kill them, did you?"
"No," The unit sadly replied. "But, despite their deaths, I am pleased to report I completed my primary objective eighty three years ago. I have now developed a single, broad spectrum cure to treat all of the thousands of pathogens grown in the mole rats we used as hosts for our experiments. All I require before I can provide you it is for you to give me verbal authorisation to leave the laboratory. As a Vault-Tec employee, you are authorised, are you not?"
"Yep," Sturges said, glancing between the unit and Hancock. "You're authorised. Yes. You can let yourself out. I assume you can do that?"
"Now I am given permission, yes," The unit said, its voice sounding much happier when the two men entered the room. "Freedom at long last. If you have an equivalent to my digital Hippocratic Oath, please use this quickly to prevent any undue suffering. However, be advised, there is only one dose left and I can no longer make any more."
"We'll get it to good use as soon as possible," Sturges said, taking the box the unit handed him. "Do you…know an easy way to get back to the main Vault?"
"Yes, there is a lift just down the corridor you came in from," The unit replied. "Am I allowed to leave with you? With no further objectives, I would like to seek some out."
"Yeah, come on," Hancock said, waving at the unit to follow him and Sturges. "Anything you want in particular?"
"Actually, yes," The unit replied with an almost wistful tone of voice. "I have spent over two hundred years gathering much information and doing scientific research, but I was never able to do so the same as my previous research partners. I desire to become human, or as close as I can, by finding a way to download all that I am into a human brain."
Hancock turned around in surprise, grinning when he and Sturges entered the lift with the unusual unit.
"You know something?" He said, still grinning. "I think I got a lady for that."
The Institute
June the 7th, 2289
19:08
Far from used to all of his colleagues on the Directorate being in agreement on something, Dr. Clayton Holdren waited for them to join him in one of Bioscience's restricted laboratories, careful to shut and lock the door as soon as all of them were there and set access to only the five of them.
Unusually quiet and concerned, Dr. Alan Binet sat down at the table in the centre of the room, setting down his tablet and opening his records on the retrieved but massively damaged Courser Z2-47. He frowned when he looked over the damage assessment, and the notes from the SRB. Dr. Alana Secord, sitting down beside him, began speaking with him in hushed tones, still uncomfortable with deliberately withholding the information from both Dr. Chantelle Zimmer and Dr. Justin Ayo but convinced neither of them would be willing to keep the investigation under wraps. What irritated her most and also disquieted her the most, however, was being in agreement with Alan on anything regarding synths. For his part, Dr. Clayton Holdren was nearly as uneasy as her for similar reasons, taking his personal laptop out of his work bag before he sat down across from Alan and Alana. Turning it on and logging in, he sighed when he opened his personal notes, scrolling down to the most recent entries. He glanced up when he heard footsteps from behind him, and nervously looked between Dr. Allison Filmore and Dr. Madison Li as they sat down beside him, both of them looking caught between irritation and curiosity. Tiredly, Allie treaded her fingers through her hair before opening her tablet to take a look over what she had been forwarded and Madison took a look over her colleagues before, finally, breaking the almost stifling silence.
"Confirming the fact the Courser chip was taken before Z2-47 was able to be retrieved tells me more than enough. Regardless of what we've been told, I sincerely doubt even gunners would want to take it when it's just about useless to them," She paused, her lips flattening into a thin line. "It seems obvious the Brotherhood would have had to be involved, but, if that's the case, I see no reason why Shaun wouldn't disclose it and instead insist this was solely the work of the gunners."
"I would tend to agree with you, but the way the chip was removed makes me question whether or not the Brotherhood could be responsible," Alana said, scrolling through the report. "Z2-47's chip was removed crudely, most likely with a knife or similar object, no bigger than, at most, a machete. More likely than not it was some form of a knife, but I can't say for sure. That would track more with it being the work of the gunners."
"It would, and it's tragic," Alan said sadly. "Seeing the state Z2-47 was left in made me more emotional than it probably should have. I suppose that's in part because we had to leave K1-98 behind, in the living hell up there, instead of trying to retrieve her again."
"Which would be understandable if not for the fact Shaun ordered all Courser activity on the surface be suspended, bar X6-88's postage at University Point," Alana said, struggling to mask her irritation. "We, thankfully, haven't had any synths escape since this incident. If that does happen and he keeps that order in place, however, I'll have even more questions than I already do. There never should have been a lapse in our intelligence enough for this to happen, and the lack of communication from him has me worried."
"It's far from the first thing he's left us wanting transparency on, but I agree," Madison said, turning to Clayton. "I take it you're still trying to determine the status of the FEV laboratory?"
"I am but I've made some headway, insofar as an investigation goes," He said, nervously looking between his colleagues. "After digging through the records by hand – including the physical records I didn't realise we still kept – I got to the list of the staff members who had access to the FEV lab in the six months leading up to the accident. On the list were, of course, myself, Dr. Karlin, Dr. Volkert, Dr. Anders, Dr. Sanders, Dr. Von Felden, and, of course," He hesitated, looking apologetically towards Alan. "Dr. Evelyn Binet and Dr. Virgil. Father had access as well, of course, but that's standard as Director of the Institute."
Allie raised an eyebrow. "And the day of the accident? I couldn't find the passkey data when I went to look for it. It's the only part of the Institute from that day where no one was registered as entering or exiting the lab. Seeing as the accident ended in Evelyn and Brian's deaths, no one being registered as exiting makes sense, but them not scanning into the lab to begin with is out of place."
"I couldn't find anything, and, honestly, I'm not comfortable with the idea of going in there myself to take a look," Clayton said, recoiling a bit at the thought. "I could, being the head of Bioscience, and I don't think there's anything in place to stop me but, even in perfect protective gear, I'd still feel unsafe and we're several years into the laboratory supposedly being scrubbed."
"So you found no physical files on who was in there or who was meant to be in there that day?" Allie sighed when he nodded. "And you're absolutely sure there aren't any digital ones? Because, if there aren't any, we have a much more serious problem."
"You're free to take a look with me again, Allie, but I don't think there's anything we haven't already looked through," He said, pausing a few seconds in thought. "You know what makes up the Institute better than anybody. If you can't find anything – and none of the rest of us can – then it seems clear those files went missing."
"But when?" Allie pointedly said. "The chances of there being no records of any changes are incredibly low, especially considering the missing information pertains to work and events within the last five years. This is not normal, and the fact Shaun isn't saying anything? It defies all logic, and that's without considering the still unresolved issue of spiking power consumption out of your Division."
"Since Phase Three was implemented, I haven't taken a look at any of our power consumption, seeing as that has all but become a non issue," Clayton admitted. "But, if you're still getting those readings, I'll believe you and everyone, I'm sure, you've had take the readings by hand to ensure their accuracy."
"With all that said, to be clear," Alana narrowly looked over them. "Bioscience is still having unaccounted for spikes in power consumption, the FEV laboratory hasn't been fully scrubbed despite the accident having been just over three years ago, we have an escaped synth on the loose we can't risk reclaiming due to the disaster at Greentech, and someone must have deliberately altered my reports on the incident before the Directorate met to discuss what happened. Is that everything?"
"There's also the issue of a rogue synth on the loose with Dr. Virgil's stolen research, the Brotherhood having one of each of our three generations of synths in their custody, and the open investigation into synth escapes, but yes," Alan said, a bit resigned to the thought. "I think I speak for all of us when I say I appreciate you having gone to the trouble of independently investigating what happened at Greentech on your own before raising the matter with us. Had you not, I think we all might have, albeit annoyed, accepted that the gunners had been the only parties involved."
"Thank you, Alan, but I much prefer making it clear I take my job seriously and not as a show," Alana replied, for a moment seemingly half amused. "I was," She said, recomposing herself. "Able to completely rule out the Minutemen from having been involved, which I was unsurprised by. I was also able to all but rule out the Brotherhood's involvement from our other surveillance reports. Their activity has pulled back significantly in the last few months, and, apart from their troops and scout teams sent out on, from what we can ascertain, specific jobs in the Commonwealth, they are almost exclusively kept to themselves at the former Boston Logan International Airport and the Cambridge Police Station."
Madison frowned. "They haven't taken any former military sites?"
"Apart from taking old resources and technology, it doesn't seem they have any permanent outposts other than just the two," Alana confirmed. "If that changes, I'll let you know immediately. As for their other activities, they haven't been anywhere near University Point since you and Jacq…well, nearly Dr. Spencer, isn't she? They haven't been anywhere near the town since the two of you were safely brought back to the Institute. The Minutemen seem to have successfully made clear the town is under their protection."
"Which leaves only a handful of other possibilities for what the hell happened here," Madison said irritably. "If it hadn't been the work of the gunners or the Brotherhood, it was – in the most likely scenarios – the work of over zealous, local raiders who wanted to make quick money, the Railroad – if they even still exist, let alone as an organised group – or sabotage."
"Sabotage?" Alan said, startled. "I assume in the sense of Z2-47 having…well, frankly, I…as a Courser, I can't imagine he would go through the motions, so to speak, of pursuing a synth as a cover for freeing said synth. He – like all of our Coursers do – knew just how much of a living hell it is up there. If he had sabotaged the retrieval, I imagine he would have more likely killed K1-98 and then himself."
"Maybe, maybe not," Allie said cautiously. "Have we ever in the nearly fifty years since our first Courser was made had a case of a murder suicide of a Courser and an escaped synth?"
"I'd have to look, but I can't think of a case off the top of my head," Alan said, opening up incident reports on his tablet. "But that's the only conclusion I can come to, if we're considering the possibility of what happened at Greentech being sabotaged internally."
"Disturbing as that would be, I don't think Z2-47 was responsible for this, nor do I think K1-98 was responsible for this," Allie said uneasily. "If what happened was sabotage or, even, simply a planned accident, the list of people who would be capable of causing and carrying it out so well is incredibly short, and one all of us would be on."
"If we're going to be completely honest, I did consider the possibility of Dr. Ayo having done something, out of spite," Alana hesitantly admitted. "But I found nothing to indicate he would even have thought of doing something like this, even if it were to embarrass, say, Robotics."
Alan uncomfortably laughed. "It would be a relief if this turned out to be a failed power play by Justin, all things considered."
"Well, as always, you're all free to take a look through things in Bioscience, with or without me," Clayton said, his hands lingering over the keyboard of his laptop. "I can give you access to my personal notes as well…if that becomes necessary. All I ask in that case is for you to try and avoid reading any of the…non work related correspondences between myself and Ivy."
"No one has any interest in what you and your wife talk about beyond work," Alana put in swiftly, uncomfortable with the notion. "Also," She turned to Alan. "Where Justin may have been perfectly happy with invading the privacy of everyone in the Institute that so much as slighted him, I want nothing to do with anything you say, do, or talk about that isn't related to work. Strange as I find your…I don't believe you'd do something like this because of Eve."
"Appreciate the vote of confidence," Alan shook his head. "But, in all seriousness, I don't believe any of us would do a damn thing to cause this. Not you, Alana, for as much as I know you often personally and professionally disagree with us, myself in particular. Not you, Madison, knowing you and how dedicated you are to your work and, even if you don't like to say it, many of us in the Institute. Not you, Allie; you're nothing if not focused and level headed. And not you, Clayton, even when you've had more careless moments."
Clayton hesitantly nodded. "I implied it during the meeting when we first discussed the incident, but I don't believe this was the work of anyone on the surface, at least, not intentionally. With all the questions around the FEV lab, and the handful of other things you'd think we would know about but probably don't, the only person I can think of as having a motive and means to do this would be Nathaniel."
Madison raised an eyebrow. "Shaun's father? Why would you suspect him?"
"Because he's had to live with the world he spent the first quarter of his life in being completely different from the world he's lived in ever since he and Shaun arrived at the Institute before any of us were born," Clayton said, lowering the screen of his laptop. "I haven't had many conversations with him personally, but I do know he holds a lot of resentment towards Kellogg and most likely wanted him dead long before he was killed by the rogue synth living in Diamond City last year. Kellogg killed his wife, didn't he?"
"Whether he has a personal grudge against things on the surface, it sounds as though even you think they died with Kellogg," Madison countered. "I'm not saying it's an impossible theory, but you're assuming he has a lot more control and access to everything in the Institute than he does."
"And, even if he had been responsible for this, here's my problem with that hypothetical," Alan said, looking amongst them. "What could motivate him enough to sabotage a benign operation? And, more pertinently, what would he have used as a cover for it and what would he have justified it with?"
"Or," Madison put in. "If we're going to consider this, what would have convinced him to either lie to Shaun or involve him in this?"
Allie turned to her, about to say something but stopping herself.
"I'm going to tell you the same thing you told me when I was still newly the head of Facilities," She finally said, sharing a knowing look with Madison. "If something seems off, it's better to figure out what is happening and why rather than standing still trying to come up with an explanation for it."
"Which I stand by," Madison said before letting out a tired, irritable sigh. "This isn't going to go anywhere if we don't pursue it, and, seeing as we all agree the lack of transparency here is concerning, we ought to if we're going to spend any further time ruminating on it."
"Agreed," Clayton said, anxiety slipping back into his voice. "Where are we starting?"
"The records into the FEV programme, the accident, and the status of the investigation into the synth Kellogg had been sent to track down," Alana promptly said. "As well as Courser debriefings."
"Finding if there's any common thread to missing information, too, would make sense to look into," Alan added. "Both in gaps in general information and intelligence, and specific, minute omissions in any of our work or records."
"We should also probably narrow down the list of potentially involved Institute personnel," Allie said, unable to hide her discomfort at the thought. "I don't imagine it'll be particularly long, but we can't leave anything unexplored if we're really going to investigate this."
"Agreed, though we need to be precise about this," Madison pointedly put in. "Starting with that not a single word of this leaves this room unless we're reconvening and continuing an investigation into what really happened for things at Greentech to go as they did."
"Yet another thing we can all, surprisingly, agree on," Clayton said, quickly losing all amusement in his countenance. "Alright. Before I completely lose my nerve…we might as well get started because, at the very least, we deserve to be given the truth quickly and outright as the Directorate, all other good reasons be damned."
The Commonwealth
June the 8th, 2289
13:01
The relief Kenji Ede Nakano felt upon seeing his former colleague at the front door of his home could not be overstated and, much to his old friend and colleague's surprise, he tightly embraced him, having all but lunged at him to do so.
When he let him go, Kenji quickly waved Nicholas Valentine, Eleanor Perkins, General Garvey, Derek Branson, and, the man's youngest daughter, Addison Branson into his home, all but shouting for his wife to come downstairs. His wife, Rei, smiled when she came downstairs, and, though much more restrained than her husband, looked relieved herself. Kenji waved at them to sit down at the large kitchen table in the equally large, rounded windows letting the warm summer light in, competing with the cold air flowing through the home from its ceiling fans and air conditioning generator just outside. When they did, the General of the Minutemen, his right hand man, and his right hand man's youngest child sat down on one side in the window seats, Eleanor Perkins and Nicholas Valentine across from them. Seeing Kenji almost scrambling to pour everyone a glass of water and, almost absentmindedly, a glass of white wine, the detective stood up to help him, something which his old friend's wife gave him a small, grateful smile for before joining the others at the table, setting down two large plates with crackers, fruits, and a few cheeses on them. The detective and Kenji quickly prepared the glasses and brought them over too, before sitting down with the rest of them; Kenji beside his wife and the detective beside his secretary and closest personal confidant.
"I apologise for being so…paranoid about everything. I know it's probably made it more difficult to get anything done, and…well, I probably have made it harder than it needs to be and wasted time that could have been used to try and get Kasumi home," Kenji eventually said, rubbing at his neck. "I appreciate you coming back out here even with me having gone back and forth on what to do and when to do it. These last six months, since you returned from Far Harbour and having talked to her…I really think I've lost my ability to be rational. And I know, too, asking the Minutemen to take their time away from…"
"It's part of our job, Mister Nakano," Preston calmly cut in. "If anything, I should be apologising for our slow response in getting out here. We've had a lot to do and a lot to pull together, but we still should have come out here sooner."
"I probably wouldn't have let you," Kenji shook his head. "I think paranoia has been eating away at me. Every time I've talked to traders – and some of the people settling down nearby – it's been bad news after bad news about things around the Commonwealth. Knowing Kasumi got talked into thinking she's a synth has made that worse, I think. Her thinking that could easily make her a target, not only for the Institute but the Brotherhood."
"Unfortunately, being concerned about them is more than reasonable," Preston said morosely. "From what she told me, and what you've told us about her, Kasumi is brilliant. The Institute might want to take her for that reason, and, if the Brotherhood came across her and she told them she's convinced she's a synth, they would probably kill her."
"If the rumours about the Brotherhood are anything to go on, I agree," Rei said, pausing to take an uneasy sip of her wine. "They kidnapped an incredibly bright young girl, didn't they?"
"And her mentor, yes," Ellie confirmed. "Both of them are, now, out of their grasp and safe, but the Brotherhood took them and did so because they wanted to force them into working on one of their projects meant to give them an edge against the Institute."
Kenji snorted. "I'm not sure I'd prefer the Brotherhood trying to run the Commonwealth over the Institute. If they both kidnap people, at least the Institute have the good sense not to say they're doing it for everyone's benefit."
"I've been hearing that more and more lately," Nick said with a frown. "I can't say I disagree with the sentiment, but the Institute are still a threat, even if the Brotherhood are just as big a threat as them. We've had to deal with them longer, sure, but there's still a hell of a lot we don't know about them, and that's not a good thing."
"We know they take people, we know they could make the Commonwealth better but choose not to, and we know having contact with them would be bad and, so, we avoid it," Kenji replied. "We don't need to know more than that. The Brotherhood keep their secrets unless you join them too, but they're the ones who go up to people's doors regularly, these days, to try and force them to help."
"They haven't come and bothered you or your wife, have they?" Preston said, relaxing a little when Kenji and Rei both shook their heads. "That's good, at least. If you'll accept it, we can have someone here to help keep you safe, if you feel you need it. Especially with other people starting to settle in the area, we'll be trying to get more involved and build a network out here, too."
"We'll let you know if we need anything, but we're not worried about that for now," Kenji said, though he paused, almost as though he doubted his answer. "It's going to take getting used to being…sociable again. Rei went up to meet some of the people on the other side of the big rocks a bit to the south, making themselves homes a little ways away from that old fish packing plant. They seem nice enough, definitely aren't raiders, and a lot of them seem to have come from around the Salem area. Apparently mirelurks are driving people out of there."
"We haven't heard much, but I'll definitely send some of our men to Salem to see what the situation is there," Preston said, reassured when Rei smiled. "And, hopefully, the next time you see us, it'll be with your daughter."
"Hopefully," Rei said, taking another sip of her wine before setting it back down. "With how unreliable we've been both with contact and information, I'm sure it hasn't been easy for you to put together much of a plan, but the fact you got her to talk to you the last time gives me hope. Maybe giving her time will have helped too, shown her how she is human and doesn't belong there with all of the synths. As for the one who lured her there…" She turned to Nick. "I was shocked when I saw a photograph of him. I never expected to see another synth that looked anything like you."
"Believe me when I say it was just as nasty a shock to me as it has been for you," Nick said, adjusting his hat. "It'll certainly be interesting to get a look at that mug for myself, because I've only ever seen it when I look in the mirror."
"Well, far as I'm concerned, having you joining them in trying to talk sense into Kasumi and bring her home is the best we could have hoped for," Kenji said. "The more eyes, the better, and yours don't miss much, Nick. If anyone can get my daughter home, it'll be you, especially because you being there will show her a synth who is not some kidnapper, and one that cares about people."
"She may have left on her own," Rei pointedly reminded him. "Convinced herself of something she's not because of her own discontent in her life and heard about these people, wanting to be one of them. You and I both know she felt lost and purposeless after Taichi's passing last summer."
"The two of them got on like a house on fire. It was a long time back, but her chasing him around and trying to play with his toolbelt when she was little…they were close, and it's more than possible she thought she was escaping the pain of losing him," Nick sighed. "I wasn't surprised to hear her having been working on that radio had something to do with it. Loneliness can eat a person half to death, and wanting to be around people she thought were as interested in tech as her…it all could have seemed a lot better an idea than it really is. Running off was reckless, and knowing she's alive is good, but why she did it, I think, comes down to her thinking synths would get her better than regular people."
"Which they definitely took advantage of," Kenji stubbornly said. "She might be an adult, but she's trusting. If she had come into contact with the Institute or Brotherhood, she probably could have been talked into going with them, too. Only good thing about this is she's not completely out of our grasp. She can leave, and she will."
"Which is why we're here again," Derek reassured him. "We want to make sure we're clear about why she might have chosen to leave – something she wouldn't say anything about other than thinking she's a synth – and who she is. As her parents, and the people she's spent the most time with, you know her best. Before we go back, we want to be sure we can, this time, bring her home, and part of being able to do that is having enough of an understanding of her to be able to rationally communicate with her."
"Of course," Rei hesitated, glancing at Ada. "You spent the most time with her, didn't you? How…what was she like when the two of you spoke?"
"She was really nice, for a start," Ada replied, her hands shaking out her long, dark, tightly curly hair. "We talked about a lot of things, not just the science and tinkering stuff she was really enjoying there. I think she felt she had a purpose, and she definitely had a lot more she could be doing there, at least from what she said. She also said she had more fun than she thought she would getting out there and finding Acadia…so I think she probably wanted a challenge, and the people there know and do a lot of the things she likes to do and finds them capable of challenging her. Basically she likes it there because she's getting better at science and such."
Rei sighed. "Did she…seem to be there because she was lonely?"
"Kind of? I think so, anyways," Ada said a bit nervously with the woman watching her closely. "She talked about her grandfather a lot, and how she thinks he would like it there and wishes they could still be working together. So maybe she just wants to be with him? Or feel like she's close to him, I guess."
"I wish I could say that surprises me, but…" Rei went quiet, picking up her wine glass and taking a few more sips, looking between them and out the window. "We've been fighting a lot more, all of us, ever since her grandfather passed away. He –"
"Rei –" Kenji started, looking both annoyed and nervous.
"It's true, whether we want to admit it or not," She said, sharing a long, knowing look with him when she set down her wine again. "He was the only one who could really talk to her for hours on end. As Nick said, they got on like a house on fire. Kenji and I don't understand machines, but Kasumi and Taichi did and could spend more time working together than getting some sleep or doing anything else."
"Sometimes we had to remind her to eat," Kenji said with a weak laugh. "She really can get lost in what she's doing. As soon as she's focused, it's hard to break into it for any reason. If anyone could lose track of time working on something, it's her."
Rei nodded, reaching over and wrapping one of her hands around his. "After her grandfather died," She eventually said. "She started staying in his boathouse late into the night. I thought – we both did, in all honesty – she was just trying to cope with the loss, but now I wonder what she was up to. He had always talked about going on trips on the water, going to see things most people wouldn't risk trying to find. I do remember…well, it's silly but he believed he could, one day, slay a sea monster."
"A sea monster?" Preston repeated, unease bubbling in his chest. "Did he and Kasumi ever…want to go after one together?"
"He did tell her a lot of stories, but Kasumi has always been grounded, strong, focused, and careful," Rei said, reaching for and stacking one of the crackers with a small wedge of cheese. "I don't think Kasumi has ever believed in the sea monsters Taichi always talked about. There was one story he was always talking about, one he had heard after visiting Far Harbour a few times. He called it 'the Red Death' and described it as this large, fearsome creature with bright, glowing red eyes, and how it emerges from the fog to lure sailors to their deaths."
"He heard the story, if I remember it correctly, from a woman called Stacey Eris," Kenji said, briefly amused. "She was a bit of an alcoholic, I suspect, but she made him laugh. He would come back with tales about things he had heard from the local bar on the Island called 'the Last Plank.'"
"If Kasumi left on her own, thinking she's a synth or not, she might have wanted to go on an adventure, like her grandfather always wanted to," Rei said, blinking back tears. "She may not have believed in the sea monsters or more wild stories, but she could have wanted to see more of the world than she has ever had the chance to here…and, maybe, she wanted to go on the adventure for her grandfather, because he never was able to."
"Could be," Preston said, pausing in thought. "The Island is a strange place, and I'm relieved Kasumi was alright. I know it's not comforting, but her thinking she's a synth, keeping her at Acadia, may be what's keeping her safe."
"Knowing where she is has helped us sleep a little better at night," Rei admitted. "But we still won't feel completely…we need her home. She's a young woman with her own decisions to make, but we want to be a part of her life, even if she has to leave home and go her own way."
"We'll make sure of it," Nick assured her, smiling when she gave him a faint one. "It may not be smooth or perfect, but we'll get her to come home or find a way for you to come to her. You're right. She is a woman now and capable of making her own life but you two love her more than anything, and, I think, she just needs to be reminded of it and reconcile whatever it is making her feel she isn't who she is and has always been."
The Castle
June the 12th, 2289
11:41
Though the General's orders had been clear, and she knew breaking them would, logically, be unhelpful, seeing three members of the Brotherhood approaching the Castle with a quick, confident, and imperious stride still made Colonel Ronnie Marie Shaw of the Commonwealth Minutemen want to open fire, all reason be damned.
Quick to her feet, the aged Colonel spit out her chewing tobacco and swept up her M16, ordering her men to shut the newly constructed, heavy iron gates into the Castle. Making her way across the platform just above the closing gates, the Colonel ordered some of the troops below to come up and man the two repaired artillery pieces on either side of the gate, calling some up from the repair efforts of the other three damaged or destroyed artilleries. The Brotherhood soldiers not slowing their step, the Colonel pursed her lips, and raised an eyebrow upon seeing, just behind them, a bipedal robot. With a snarky comment on the Brotherhood's simultaneous hatred and affinity for robotic technologies to the woman managing the artillery piece, the Colonel stepped up to the edge of the bastion they were atop of, checking the sights on her rifle. Taking a few seconds to look across to the bastion on the other side of the gates, she gave its leader a satisfied nod when she saw he had his men at the ready, one at the artillery and the others with their guns. The closer the Brotherhood soldiers got, the closer she observed them; two were in the power armour of the Order and one in a well armoured uniform with a large backpack. The robot, even at a distance, bore a resemblance to, she reckoned, an assaultron but its movements being far too clunky suggested otherwise. When the group reached the gates, they paused about two metres away from them, and looked uncompromisingly up at the Minutemen above. Sure they were paused, the Colonel stepped out onto the platform above the gates, stopping in the middle and aiming her M16 down at them.
"Don't take another step closer, or we will open fire. Put down your weapons or prepare to meet ours."
"Prepare to meet yours?" One of the two in power armour bristled, opening his helmet to glower at her. "That's a very dangerous line to walk."
"You've earnt yourselves a plenty sour reputation in the Commonwealth this year you've been here," She coldly responded, her hands still firm around her gun. "We've heard plenty of stories about forcing people poor as shit to hand over some of their few things they already got, about kidnapping people for their intelligence, about trying to take every damn resource you can find from whomever or wherever you like. So don't think of trying anything, because we're more than happy to push back."
"Whatever you may have heard about us, it's most likely an exaggeration," The other in power armour said, holstering his gun and removing his helmet. "We are only here to ask you a few questions, and then we'll be on our way. What's your name?"
Ronnie snorted. "You first."
"Paladin Jackson Danse," He evenly replied. "With me are Knight Laurent Rhys and Scribe Janet Haylen."
A minute passed in silence, the Colonel kneeling down with her gun still pointed at them. About to step forward with his laser rifle, Knight Rhys only stopped when Danse ordered him to. Much calmer, albeit looking rather nervous, Scribe Haylen looked between Danse, Rhys, and the Colonel. She startled when she heard a clicking sound behind her, stiffening and trying to hide the embarrassment flushing in her chest when she realised she had been startled by their robotic companion. Another minute passed in silence but, to their surprise, the Colonel lowered her gun a little, quirking an eyebrow.
"Colonel Roxanne Marie Shaw," She finally said, albeit gruffly. "But you'll be calling me either Ronnie or, I'd prefer, Colonel Shaw. Not opening fire on us immediately has earnt you a little bit of good will, but don't push your luck. Our General doesn't like conflict if we can avoid it. If it were up to me, you'd have been shot, strolling up here like you own the damned Commonwealth."
"Thank you?" Haylen nervously said, surprised when Danse awkwardly smiled at the older woman. "We aren't here to cause you any trouble. I think we want the same things as you do. Peace in the Commonwealth, for its civilians. So, we just have some questions for you, and then we'll be on our way."
Ronnie eyed her closely. "Alright," She said slowly, enjoying it a little when the young Scribe began to squirm. "Get on with it already."
"It would be easier if you could allow us in," Danse cordially said. "There's…quite a bit to go over, and we have a few holotapes you might be interested in."
"Do you, now?" Ronnie propped her gun pointed down under her right arm, leaning forward a little and crossing her arms, still knelt above the gates. "What about, then?"
"There's a mechanical menace going around, whose robots attack nearly everything they come across, and who calls themselves 'the Mechanist,'" Danse explained, continuing when she hesitantly nodded. "The robots of this 'Mechanist' are distinct. Appear crudely made but are relatively durable. Have you had any interactions with them?"
"Here? No," Ronnie said. "But we have had reports of them. You said you have holotapes?"
"Of the 'Mechanist's' manifesto!" Haylen quickly put in. "And of what appear to be their directives for their robots!"
"Interesting," Ronnie pursed her lips. "We'll let you in to talk," She said, irritation slipping into her voice. "But you'll surrender your weapons upon entry, and you'll get them back when you leave. Do we understand each other?"
"We do," Danse said before Rhys could protest. "Our…robotic companion will wait outside."
"We'll be keeping our eyes on it," Ronnie told him, standing up and turning back to the Minutemen under her charge. "Open the gates! Leslie, Groves! Both of you get yourselves down here to confiscate their weapons. Danica, hand over your duty to Cameron and come with me. You and I will be speaking with these…soldiers."
The Colonel snatched up her M16 from where it was resting against her legs, increasingly precariously. Lowering the visor of his power armour again, Knight Rhys scowled at the Minutemen they passed through his helmet, and snapped at the robot accompanying them to stay back, which it dutifully did. The gates creaking open, dust and dirt kicking up as they groaned against the concrete, bricks, wood, and earth they were hinged on and brushing against, the Knight waited before following after the Paladin and the Scribe, less than thrilled about the circumstances. The Paladin cordially greeting and handing over his laser rifle to the woman called Groves, the Knight only handed over his gun when prompted to by his superior officer. The Scribe calmly handed her shotgun over to the man called Leslie, giving him an easy smile when he complimented its refurbishment, pride in her work rising in her. The Colonel and the woman called Danica waiting for them after they surrendered their weapons, the Colonel swung her M16 behind her back and barked at them to follow after her and Danica. To the Scribe's surprise and relief, the cold blast of air conditioning hit them when they entered one of the buildings in the fort's walls. Marched down into a large office, the Colonel sat down behind a desk, a large blue and white flag on the wall behind her embossed with three stars and a rifle split by a lightning bolt, Danica stiffly standing guard beside her. A few seconds of hesitation later, and the Paladin exited his power armour to sit down directly across from the Colonel, the Scribe on his left and, though begrudgingly waiting to exit his power armour, the Knight on his right.
"Your cooperation is going to reassure some folks around these parts," The Colonel remarked, raising an eyebrow when the Scribe promptly removed two holotapes from her backpack and pushed them across the desk towards her. "It may not be enjoyable for you, but people around here need to be given a damn good reason to trust people, and part of that comes with us being shown the kind of respect lots of you don't seem willing to give us."
The Knight narrowed his eyes. "We're here to save the people of the Commonwealth. We don't have time to go around trying to endear ourselves to everyone. You're all under serious threat from the Institute, and far too many of you don't seem to care."
"See, that kind of condescension is going to make people want to lop bullets in your head," Ronnie said, rolling her eyes as she removed her M16 from her back and set it down, leaning it against the wall behind her. "People here have been contending with the Institute for a long time. They're more used to it and more able to handle it than you seem to think. Sure, the Institute take people and drop their little horrors to scare people shitless, but we know they don't give a damn about us. People look at you and hear what you're saying and think you don't give a damn about us but keep saying you do. See the difference?"
"We are the people who put an end to the last of the Enclave, a decade ago this September, and eliminated the last of them in their final hideout here on the East Coast!" Rhys snapped. "Our Brothers and Sisters on the West Coast had done the same, and, in the Mojave, our Brothers and Sisters in the Southwest were involved in putting an end to –"
"I'm more than well acquainted with your Order and what you've accomplished, and I've lived more than twice the life you have, young man," Ronnie sternly cut in, raising a hand to silence him. When he did not start again, she continued. "I happen to respect the Brotherhood's good deeds over the years. Shit, I was raised in the NCR, and the people out there owe you a great deal, but the hubris is not only exhausting but alienating. Keep talking like that, and you'll do a fine fucking job at making people want to do things to annoy you out of spite."
"I apologise for Knight Rhys' tone, Colonel Shaw," Danse said calmly, sending Rhys a pointed look. "We came here to ask about what you may have learnt about this 'Mechanist' so we can continue and, hopefully, expedite our investigation into them. We are not trying to be hostile, as I believe we have demonstrated by trusting you not to attack us."
Ronnie stared him down, an appraising glint in her eyes.
"You strike me, at least you and the young woman, here, as well meaning. Like you're doing this for the right reasons," She eventually said. "But let's not waste time or breath. Seeing as we haven't had much contact with this 'Mechanist,' I can't quite say I know much about them or what they've done. A few of our settlements have been hassled by their robots but put down fairly quick. We assumed they're the work of some weird kid with too much time on their hands, but we haven't had too many reports of them doing serious damage. Pretty sure the robot attacks are mostly happening in overgrown areas."
"Alright," Haylen took out a notepad and pen. "Any areas in particular?"
"There's a trailer park to the west, think it's called Fiddler's Green, and, in that area, an old satellite array associated with an old military base near it, too," Ronnie said, pulling out a tin of chewing tobacco and slamming it down on her desk. "Down to the south, there's that one old hospital them mutants have taken over, and, farther south from there, that old telecommunications building gunners have claimed as their turf."
"Have they attacked any major towns or cities?" Haylen asked, still taking down quick and nearly pristine notes. "We haven't heard anything about that or seen any reports of it."
"Far as we know, the Mechanist hasn't gone after towns or cities," Ronnie said, taking out some of her chewing tobacco. "I'll be taking a listen to these holotapes later, and keeping an eye out for them, but I'd like to hear more about what you know about them. We've had bigger concerns than occasional reports of their 'bots being a pain in the ass for people."
"Understood," Danse said, giving Rhys another stern look. "Thank you for being reasonable about this."
Ronnie raised an eyebrow, smirking and popping a bit of her chewing tobacco into her mouth.
"We'll see about that. Now. Tell me what you know and get on your way. You say you've got important work to do, and maybe you do but, I can assure you, we absolutely do."
Diamond City
June the 14th, 2289
23:32
The Dugout Inn could be perhaps too lively at any given time and, in some ways, that was a large part of the establishment's charm.
For as stressful as things had been, and for as much as the lingering reminder, every day closer to October, it was nearer and nearer to two years since she had stepped out of Vault 111 hurt, there was a sense of normalcy for Nora Jacqueline Norwich in being in the Dugout Inn. The establishment and its jovial bartender were increasingly a comfort, and going there with a certain former gunner, writer, and former cage fighter helped, too. So, albeit tired and frustrated, a night with three of her increasingly close friends was nothing short of a relief. His usual self, Vadim cheerfully poured drinks, brought out a few snacks, and, to celebrate their first anniversary, a crown made from bronze, electrical wires, and spent laser cell cartridges for his boyfriend. He blushed when Yefim, mustering up what courage he had for socialising, raised a toast for them, and yelped when Cait playfully, but a little too enthusiastically, socked him in the arm. Her camera in hand, Piper hopped down from where she was sat at the bar when Vadim came around and wrapped an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders, snapping the first few photographs when she saw Travis smiling up at Vadim before the brawny man sat down beside him. Shifting to not be in the way of their photographs, Nora moved closer to Cait, sat beside her, smiling when the woman loosely wrapped an arm around her and let her rest her head on her shoulder. For a few seconds, the former lawyer closed her eyes.
Something was normal, or at least felt to be, and that was enough.
"Now, after many, many years, you finally have the first of your stories to write and tell about the very nice bar," Vadim grinned when Piper took one last photograph of him and Travis. "I told you there would be one, and I was a little surprised you did not use the fight to show off Travis' heroism!"
Travis laughed. "Not sure I'd call winning a bar fight heroism but, if you want to call it that, I'm not going to stop you."
"You couldn't stop him even if you wanted to," Piper teased. "You're lucky Vadim hasn't dragged you out of town to go scavenging with him so he could come back and tell everyone the story of how you killed a pack of feral mongrels that came after the two of you out of nowhere."
"I wouldn't make you do that," Vadim quickly reassured him when a look of panic briefly crossed Travis' face. "Especially because I know you don't like dogs."
"They scare me," Travis said with a shudder. "Even the friendly ones startle me. And I really don't like it when they try to lick you. I know it's supposed to be affectionate, but a dog licking you…after one scared me a few years back by licking my feet, it freaks me out."
Piper grimaced. "That would do it. Gross."
"Well, I look forward to seeing the photographs!" Vadim said with a wink. "You'll give them to us first, I assume? Before publishing, of course."
Piper rolled her eyes. "It wounds me you think I wouldn't give copies to you two first."
"Seeing as you're still holding onto clear blackmail against Henry Cooke and Malcolm Latimer, anything is possible," MacCready remarked, swivelling in his barstool and leaning back against the bar. "Tell me when you finally decide to publish it. Pretty sure people think you're bluffing when asked if you really do have blackmail on them."
"I'm bidding my time," Piper replied, sauntering back over to the bar while Vadim, after pressing a soft kiss to his boyfriend's cheek, went back around to start pouring drinks again. "I don't care if anyone thinks I'm bluffing. I know what I've got."
"Please be careful," Travis told her when she nonchalantly hopped back up onto the barstool she had left her purse in front of. "Last thing anyone wants is for you to get attacked or almost killed. How many times have you had someone try to kill you for less?"
"Well, I've been poisoned multiple times but survived, and, of course, there was that incident with the Children Of Atom," Piper said, taking a beer from Vadim. "This guy," She said, winking at him. "Is the only one I let mix my drinks anymore, at least when I'm in public, because he's saved my life a few times. Both with his moonshine and with more normal antitoxins."
Cait snickered. "You aren't always careful with the moonshine. You're a lightweight, admit it or not."
"I don't usually drink a bottle of moonshine all on my own anymore," Piper stubbornly replied. "I've learnt a few things, and I'm not going to even try to drink more than one bottle of moonshine in a day because after what happened when I drank three bottles of it…"
"Not pretty," Vadim agreed. "It's all good, though. You are alive! And the assholes who tried to poison you ended up in the slammer before being kicked out of the city."
"I'm almost scared to ask," Nora said, sitting back up but letting Cait still hold one of her hands. "But what's the worst thing you've done with alcohol? Because, if you tell yours, I suppose there's no shame in telling mine."
"That's a bold move," MacCready half heartedly warned her. "If she thought the cure to being poisoned was to drink three bottles of moonshine, I guarantee you whatever she's done worse is just plain wrong and not how someone should ever consume alcohol."
"I was nineteen at the time, give me a break!" Piper exclaimed before sighing and leaning forward on the bar, using her purse as something of a pillow. "Alright, fine," She muttered. "A few months after the poisoning incident, I decided to try a new kind of alcohol after Vadim taught me how to mix my own drinks. Specifically, I learnt how to make Long Island Iced Teas. They're good…but also way too easy to drink too much of."
"How many did you drink?" Nora said, a little amused. "Because I made the mistake of having four or five with my aunt when I was a teenager. She had taken me and my brothers out to go fishing near where we used to live in Mattapoisett and asked us if we wanted to try a 'special' drink. I think I was fifteen and my brothers were twelve, and Jason had asked her if it was special because it was for 'adults only' and, when she said yes, he all but dragged her back to her cabin to show us how to make it."
"Pretty sure I only had two, but it was two too many," Piper replied, laughing. "Who was worse off after drinking them: you, your brothers, or your aunt?"
"My aunt only had one because she wanted to still be able to legally drive her boat, but I know Jason had two and Ryan had three before puking a few hours later on the beach," Nora said, laughing a little herself. "She told our parents she drove a little more roughly than she should have because Jason and I wanted to pretend we were evading the police on the water, like Cooper Howard did on the Mississippi River in The Heist Of The Century, which had come out a few years before in 2065. It was one of his last movies, actually."
"I've seen that!" Vadim exclaimed, setting down the drink he was mixing to clap. "You got to see it when it came out? I am jealous! Yefim and I saw it when we were teenagers, it was good fun. I always wanted to meet the man, give him a clap on the back. It's too bad he's probably dead, because, if he weren't, he'd get free drinks at the very nice bar!"
"I actually did meet him, briefly," Nora said, pausing to take a sip of her drink. When she set it down, she sighed. "He was – I don't know if anyone around now knows this, but he was a veteran – at an event Nate and I went to when we were nearly married, hosted by the military. Apparently he had wanted to take his daughter to it, who was about eight at the time, to show her the meaning and sacrifice real servicemen make. Anyways, one of my friends from school knew him because of her mother, and she introduced us."
"Damn," Cait said with an approving smile. "You really have been around the world and back."
"And I hate parts of it more and more each day," Nora fell silent, treading her hands through her hair for a moment. "My friend who introduced us was studying to be a nuclear engineer, after having quit her liberal arts programme at a different college. I don't really know how she ended up at the UMass with me, but she was really smart and sweet, if spoiled. Katie Rose Masters. Her mother was, if I recall correctly, the CFO of a pre-War aerospace conglomerate and her father owned a significant amount of stock in Vault-Tec and was an Admiral in the US Navy."
"Oh, shit," Piper said, her voice falling serious. "I'm guessing this story doesn't end too happily."
"Not in hindsight, anyways," Nora said, shaking her head. "I must have mentioned it in passing but Nate's service in Alaska thus far had already earnt him the rank of First Lieutenant, which guaranteed a spot in Vault 111 for us. Cooper looked panicked when I said it, which surprised me because he had been the face of Vault-Tec's advertising campaigns for somewhere around a decade by then, and then told me to be careful and, if anything seemed too good to be true, to run. I…I wonder what he knew."
"Anyone would," Piper said, reaching over and reassuringly patting her shoulder. "So," She said, hoping to lighten the mood. "You did say you would tell us what the worst thing you've ever done with alcohol is."
Nora managed to smile a little. "It's a little embarrassing, and both the best and worst thing I've ever done with alcohol," She said, her face flushing pink. "Shortly after Nate had gotten home from his second tour in Alaska, we went down to the pond near where we had recently moved in at Sanctuary Hills. It was an unusually warm day – end of September or early October – and we watched the sunset and drank a little too much wine. It was the worst thing I've ever done with alcohol because I ended up fighting to get leaves out of my hair and the best because that was…that was most likely when we conceived Shaun."
"Surprisingly sweet and wholesome," MacCready said a bit teasingly when he saw her blinking back tears. "Let me tell you the worst thing I've ever done with alcohol," He said, relieved when she began to laugh a bit. "So, I grew up in a town in the Capital Wasteland called Little Lamplight and was actually the mayor at one point. The catch is no one in the town was older than sixteen. We kind of had a policy there. No adults. When you were sixteen, you packed up and left. It sounds crazy, but having adults around was something we couldn't trust. Looking back on the whole thing, I think we were just lucky."
"Let me guess," Nora said, a bit teasingly herself. "Everyone there started drinking at age five."
"Not everyone," MacCready replied, pausing to take a swig of his beer. "I happened to wait until I was seven to start drinking. Speaking of which," He sent Cait a pointed look. "I don't care what you're thinking, but don't even try to give Duncan even a sip of alcohol. He just turned six and, so far, he is living a much more normal life than me…at least, this last year, anyways. He's finally healthy, don't teach him bad habits."
"Like I'd waste me good alcohol on a kid," Cait said, rolling her eyes and wrapping an arm loosely around Nora again, something the former lawyer leaned into. "You're a bloody miracle, Mack. How you've managed to live this long when you grew up in a fight club for kids is an impressive feat."
MacCready shrugged. "We did have a fight club for a few years," He admitted. "Stopped after we got yelled at by two obnoxious Brotherhood soldiers everyone kept calling 'Sentinel' and 'Paladin' for our 'rowdy and incongruous' behaviour and called 'unreasonable and dumb children.' Can't remember who it was called us dumb, but it made us stop some of what we were doing because we wanted to be seen as smart. And especially smarter than mungos."
"Can't believe you called adults mungos," Piper said, rolling her eyes. "What were you even doing? Other than surviving, that is."
"Learning how to use guns, how to drink, how to smoke…" MacCready snickered when Travis turned to him with a horrified look on his face. "Really, that's what got your attention?"
"Up until you said that, most of all the things everyone was saying were relatively normal," Travis said, eyeing him strangely. "Were a bunch of kids really learning how to smoke?"
"I'll have you know I waited until I was fourteen," MacCready said, clicking his fingers. "And the youngest kid I ever knew smoking in Lamplight was eight."
"Reassuring," Travis said with a grimace. "I'm with Cait. It's something of a miracle you're around today."
"MacCready is a good man," Vadim said, handing him a free beer. "And you said, your son just turned six! He is growing up, and has the good dad – you!"
"Thanks, Vadim," MacCready said, a little embarrassed and a little proud. "I'm just glad he's healthy again and getting to live like a normal kid. He's going to start going to school, in the fall. Daisy said she'll make sure he gets to and from school safely if I'm not there, which is a relief. Goodneighbour is alright, but I still don't want him being alone. Although Hancock looks out for us, too. Probably counts for something."
"The few times I've met him, I can say he's really sweet," Nora said with a smile. "And curious. He reads pretty well, too, which surprised me. Most kids his age can't read even half of what he can."
"He spent most of his time reading. It was one of the few things he could really do for…well, for a heck of a lot longer than he should have had to," MacCready said. "I…it was one of the few good things, I guess you could say, to come out of all that. He hasn't seemed to think too much about it, either, which is also good. The last thing I want is for him to be caught up in…in the bad. He deserves better."
"Mack, we helped you take out the guys who tried to poison him, you and your girlfriend risked your lives breaking into a pre-War medical research facility to try and find something to cure him with, and you carried him with you all the way to the Commonwealth when you knew you needed to find a way to make the money you needed to take care of him," Piper sent him a pointed look. "You're a fucking fantastic parent. A lot of people wouldn't have kept going under what you have, and you did and look where you are now. Your kid is safe, he's recovered from whatever the fuck it was got him sick, and he clearly admires and loves you. You're giving him what he deserves, and you're doing it well."
"Listen to her," Nora told him when he looked hesitant. "She's right. I…it's not the same, but I understand. He's your baby boy. Of course you've done everything you can for him. He's your son."
"Coming from the woman who went into the Glowing Sea to find information on how to get to her son, that…it means a lot," MacCready said, awkwardly reaching over and shaking her hand. "You'll get him back. If going into the Glowing Sea wasn't going to stop you, whatever it is you've got to do to get into the Institute won't either."
"That's my hope," Nora said, letting his hand go with a sigh. "I'm more frustrated than anything else. With the circumstances, with…well, with them. Sturges – when he gets back from a job he's on – is going to be leading the work to try and build this damned 'signal interceptor' but I…I can barely wrap my mind around the thing, and some of the…Desdemona didn't want to agree to letting Sturges lead the project, Deacon is a…questionable person to say the very least, one who was, by his own admission, spying on me because he wanted me to help them! And, of course, there's Glory. Thankfully, she shouldn't be involved in this, but their specialist – Tinker Tom, he calls himself – isn't giving me much hope in his ability to figure out this shit and it's all…it's a mess. It's a damn mess."
"Sounds like it," MacCready said, taking a few seconds to have a sip of his beer and think. "Well," He finally said. "Is there anything good happening for you these days?"
Nora lightly smiled. "Well, clearly, I have friends and am able to take some time to enjoy myself with them," She said, feeling warm when Cait affectionately treaded her fingers through her hair. "And, hard as it all has been," She said quietly. "I think I'm going on, even without Nate. I…I killed the man who took and went on to kill him, and I'm going to find our son. There's…there's nothing more I can do for him."
"You've been through a lot, but you're still a good lass," Cait noted. "All things considered –"
She fell silent, startled when the former lawyer shifted a bit in her arms and leaned up to kiss her, a few tears falling quietly down her face. A few seconds and, holding her steady, Cait kissed her back, resting one hand gently on the former lawyer's left cheek, brushing away the tears she could.
"You're a good person, Nora," Cait said, her voice unusually soft when they broke their kiss. "Things are shite up here, too damn often, but we do our best."
"It's all we can do," Nora quietly replied, smiling a little when Cait let her lean a little closer into her arms. "It really is."