His head pounded.
At first he couldn't move, the soreness and newly attached limbs ached at him.
He was under a bunch of garbage.
Garbage.
It stunk like hell.
He pushed himself up, his hand appearing out of the garbage. The synth dug himself out of the garbage heap of trash, taking a huge gasp. His eyes turned on for the first time, the wiring in his head began to whirl. Millions of questions had invaded his mind. Where was he? What is this place? Am I dead? Why is my hand gray? Why is my other hand slightly decayed? Why does it smell like shit?
Not delaying anymore time, the synthetic man dragged himself up from the ground, standing on his own two feet for the first time in his new body. His body was sore, but how was that possible? Looming at himself, he didn't look much human. Not like how he used to look like before.
How did he look like before?
His name was Nicholaus. Nicholaus Valentine, or so he thought that was his name. He remembers...glimpses of a past. Bits and pieces of a different world, and not the dying land he was now taking in. He remembers crossing the street, watching out for vehicles and not corpses and skeletons that littered the area.
"Hello?" The voice that rang from his mouth was raspy, the first time he's used it. He looked around before taking another step into the deserted land. "Is anyone out there!?"
No answer, as expected. He looked up at the night sky, realizing that it had to be sometime past midnight. He looked at the garbage hole he was discarded in, presumably by his creator. A new beginning.
Nick Valentine took his first few steps into the wasteland, looking up at a billboard.
"Massachusetts Welcomes You!"
Nothing made sense. And it pissed him off.
The world he now walks in is abandoned. Only hellish monsters remain, as he's barely been able to avoid them. Mutated bears? Three headed cows? Rodents the size of dogs? It didn't make sense.
It didn't help that he had memories of being this 'Nick Valentine' and that he was a cop. Pre-war. But how would he know this? He's been walking around this godforsaken lands for days, he doesn't even know what year it is. How long it's been since his "old life." Who his family was. All he remembered was a woman, a woman he called his fiancée. Jennifer.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months. He didn't feel the need to eat or sleep, so he was able to traverse the lands without much trouble. A human would have to eat. A human would have to sleep and rest, and cater to their injuries. The synth didn't need to do any of that. He could stare at a wall for hours and not have to worry about a headache from tiredness or a stomach ache from hunger. He was essentially, a machine.
Nighttime replaced the daylight, and Nick found himself sitting on a beach. A handful of sand in his hand, his fingers coated heavily in the grains of sand. The ocean smell still longered heavily, even with the hints of radiation which didn't affect him.
They'd affect a human, why wouldn't they-
Then he'd remember, he's not a human. Not anymore.
He let the sand drop from his metal hand, seeing the grains of dirt glide away in the gust of wind. He huffed, standing up before looking out into him the endless ocean, wondering what would happen if he coild just glide over the ocean.
He left the ocean view.
Days later, he encountered his first human.
A little boy.
The two stared at each other for an eternity, untik the boy raised his hand and waved. Nick anxiously raised his hand and waved back, signaling that he's not a threat. The boy walked closer to Nick, who stepped back.
"You lost, mister?" The boy asked.
Nick shrugged. "As lost as the next man. Names Nick."
"James. But everyone calls me Jim." The boy examined him, seemingly wary, but not backng down from the synth. "Can get dangerous out here if you're not careful. Need any help?"
Nick chuckled. "I'll take all the help I can get." He looked around the deserted area, the old street signs were hanging by a thread and the dead grass grown along the road didn't bring comfort to the average traveler. "What are ya doing out here all by yourself?"
"I always walk around this area." Jim answered, a pistol on his hip. "I tend to take watch sometimes. Let the others rest. Make sure no raiders are about. My parents wouldn't want me talking to you though, so I hope they don't see us."
"Well, I won't bother you." Nick concluded, and went to turn on his heel. "Thank you for the conversation."
"Come to the settlement. They'll help you out."
"Don't think that's a good idea, kiddo."
"Why not?"
"Not exactly human looking." Nick lamely confessed.
Jim, the boy, did a lookover before he shrugged.
"Ya look human enough for me, mister." He urged Nick to follow him. "I'm only eleven, but I've seen some wierd things so far. You're not the weirdest."
"One second, kid." Nick stopped, and the kid froze in place turning his head enough to see the synth. "What year is it?"
The kid rasied his eyebrow. "2185."
The community's name was Sunhaven. Just along the border of Massachusetts.
They were nervous around him.
Who wouldn't be? He was a grey-skinned synth, naked, walking around like a human, talking like a human, and acting like a human. Whispers among the citizens. Some of them were curious. Some were wary of him, and steered clear.
Days went by, and the community accepted him. They would talk to him, share old stories. They didn't avoid him nor were they wary of him. They didn't shy away nor did they turn heads.
He'd sleep in the same beds with them, share drinks, eat with them while playong games with the children. The next few weeks, and he was back to feeling like a human being. They'd greet him by name and nod at him, not shy or look the other way.
It felt like he found a home, but he knew he had questions that needed answering and that he needed to continue venturing out into the wastelands to find his answers. The communtuy mechanic fixed him up, tightening loose bolts and screws.
He felt at home, but knew he couldn't stay for long. He'd have to travel again and find more answers. He needed to venture back out and find who he truly is/was. Nick Valentine has a mission.
The night he before he left, he was staring at the the stars with one of the girls. She had been in her 20s. Strong willed. Her name was Jasmine. She told him her story. How her parents were murdered by raiders and she escaped by having her parents hide her in a nearby dumpster.
She didn't judge him. She didn't insult nor did she ask what he is. She took one look at him and all she asked was:
"So, what happened to you?"
Not many more questions could ever make him feel more human.
Weeks passed by and people mostly avoided him on the road.
Which wasn't suprising after he left Sunhaven, bidding everyone a goodbye and a promise that he would be back as soon as he could. It seemed they did care for him, even leaving him with some parting gifts. Two guns, fully loaded with multiple clips. Multiple pairs of clothes, and a fedora that would hide his eyes from the sun. A bittersweet goodbye, as Nick promised he'd return as soon as he could.
He was grateful. Grateful that he found humanity or what's left of it. The bombs dropping really did a number on America it seemed, everything was total wasteland.
Granted he wasn't around for the bomb droppings, only that he woke up 100 years later. It was strange. Everything. He remembers his old life.
The Nick Valentine flesh and bone was no more. He was gone. His girl, Jenny, was gone. His life was gone. Everything and everyone he knew, loved, cared about, was gone.
This Nick had woken up in a trash heap almost on the outskirts of Massachusetts. He didn't have a family. Siblings. Mother or Father. He'd made some friends back in Sunhaven. He had a dirty white T-shirt, with ripped dirtied jeans and worn through shoes. Luckily he had himself packed a patchy jacket as it would be cold this time year around. Funny, he was a machine that got cold.
Marvelous how that works.
Thunder cracked.
Months passed by since Nick left Sunhaven. He spotted a little house in the distance, hoping he could take shelter in it. He jogged, hearing his mechanical legs stride. Reaching the house, he opened the door and shut.
He sighed, getting wet means he'd get rusty a bit and oil was running low. He breathed a breath out.
Shelter, now to check the house for supplies.
He unsheathed his gun, holding it to his side before he checked the downstairs. It was too quiet, and Nick didn't like it. He may be a synth, but he still has his human instincts.
The downstairs turned out to be cleared, and now he'd have to check the upstairs. Nick walked uo the steps slowly, gun pointed ahead. At the top of the steps, there was only three rooms. Bathroom, closet...and a shut door.
Nick had wrapped his hand around the knob. Opening the door.
Oh...
Oh no that...
Now it he knows why it was too quiet.
Three bodies laid on the bed. The blanket covering half of their corpes. A woman, a man and a child holding her teddy bear. Next to them was multiple vials of poison. Next to it was a 10mm pistol, ammo, and three cans of food. A note besides it.
To whoever finds this:
We couldn't survive. The world around us is rotting. People are rotting. It wasn't worth it to us anymore. Take what we had left, traveler. You'll need it more than us. God bless you.
Sam, Lee and Julie.
Nick looked at the corpes. Folding the note and slipping it in his pocket.
He walked over to the dead family, before covering them entirely with the blanket.
He waited out the storm downstairs.