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CloseChapter Eleven: That Was Then, This Is Now
November 13th: Late Evening
Been almost two weeks since I last slapped a holotape into the Pip-Boy and recorded anything. I--
*Dogmeat barks from afar*
Hang on, boy. I need to say something things. Heel.
...okay. So. With a few misadventures out of the way, which I'm going to skip, I've finally made it to Diamond City. Been hearing good things about this place all about, let alone having tuned into the radio. It's amazing. Whole place is built into a ballpark and everything. Even some wacko dressed in a stitched-up baseball uniform, selling "swattas". That dude Moe thinks baseball was all about clubbing the opposing team to death with baseball bats. Things were pretty fucked in America at the time, but bloodsports? C'mon. We weren't that bad.
Though at this rate, that may be up my alley by now. Gunning down raiders and these huge green men called Super Mutants? I'm plenty jaded to killing now. It's become too easy to draw the 10-mil or whatever and blow them away, let alone sneaking up to get a good opening shot. I find I can take out the first guy before anyone else arrives guns blazing.
Part of me wonders if I've changed for the worst. Part of me agrees that I had. The rest of me is just glad to be alive, and glad that awful people can't hurt anyone else any longer. None of this will change any time soon.
*long pause*
...so what happens when I find my son? What happens when he's raised without a father? How do I hold him in hands so drenched in blood? And what happens if something happens to either of us, huh? The remnants of Boston, not even Sanctuary Hills, aren't a safe place.
*sigh* I'll cross that bridge when I get there, I guess. I know there'll be more blood before this is all over. There's this machine-building lunatic called the Mechanist at large. An assaultron -- this person-shaped death machine -- named Ada was the sole survivor of an attack by the Mechanist's bots. If I'm to stop any more bloodshed from those killer machines, I'll need to track down... Christ, robobrains. I'd never heard of anything like them before, but they, like... okay. Who the fuck uses a human brain as the CPU for a fucking robot? Seriously!
Apparently, old daddy dearest may've had something to do with them. I saw the RobCo logo etched onto the plating of those mad scientists' inventions. Ada and I had tracked a beacon from the Mechanist down at an old Wattz Electronic factory. Shame to say I didn't find a laser pistol therein their 1000 line, but... well. If I have the caps later on, I've got an even scarier energy weapon in store to buy from the general store at Diamond City. Heheh.
Which brings us back to Diamond City. Some chick named Piper, hated for writing provoking newspapers, helped lead me to an investigator. Turns out the PI, Nick Valentine, had gone missing. Also turns out that the Minutemen aren't the only out-of-time faction around these parts. Old-school mobsters in pressed suits with tommy guns stood between me and saving Nick, who got duped into a femme fatale's trap. Among all of Skinny Malone's closest bodyguards -- Nick's old enemy with an ironic nickname -- that bitch with the bat hit the floor dying first. Me and my trusty ol' Sanctuary Special made it so.
...when we got back to Nick's office, we went over everything I knew from the kidnapping of Shaun. The murder of Nate. I thought there this Institute that everyone yaps about was a bogeyman enough. But this guy's name that matches... fuck, my husband's killer has to be him!
Kellogg. That cold merc with a grating voice that rasped deep into me. Professional-like, but without any known buyers. Leathers, scar, scruffy face. All of his enemies dead, and allegedly loves big fuck-off weapons.
All of his enemies except one. Yer talking to her.
Even if the mayor was useless, his secretary found it in her heart to give me Kellogg's key. He had a house in the ballpark that got seized. I seized not only some stims he had in a secret room in his shack, but also a cigar. With the help of a dog I've barely called a friend, we're getting Shaun back. Kellogg is dead meat.
*panting from Dogmeat*
Yeah, you. Who's a good sniffy doggo? Who's gonna help me track down a motherfucker? You!
...I didn't think I'd be strong enough to survive this world turned upside-down. I didn't think I'd have the strength to carry on after Nate was murdered and Shaun was taken. I'd have thought I'd die numerous times. And I never thought I'd become as reckless -- some might say ruthless -- in avenging and protecting folk who didn't serve any of the shit they've suffered.
That was then. This is now.
November 13th: Late Evening
Been almost two weeks since I last slapped a holotape into the Pip-Boy and recorded anything. I--
*Dogmeat barks from afar*
Hang on, boy. I need to say something things. Heel.
...okay. So. With a few misadventures out of the way, which I'm going to skip, I've finally made it to Diamond City. Been hearing good things about this place all about, let alone having tuned into the radio. It's amazing. Whole place is built into a ballpark and everything. Even some wacko dressed in a stitched-up baseball uniform, selling "swattas". That dude Moe thinks baseball was all about clubbing the opposing team to death with baseball bats. Things were pretty fucked in America at the time, but bloodsports? C'mon. We weren't that bad.
Though at this rate, that may be up my alley by now. Gunning down raiders and these huge green men called Super Mutants? I'm plenty jaded to killing now. It's become too easy to draw the 10-mil or whatever and blow them away, let alone sneaking up to get a good opening shot. I find I can take out the first guy before anyone else arrives guns blazing.
Part of me wonders if I've changed for the worst. Part of me agrees that I had. The rest of me is just glad to be alive, and glad that awful people can't hurt anyone else any longer. None of this will change any time soon.
*long pause*
...so what happens when I find my son? What happens when he's raised without a father? How do I hold him in hands so drenched in blood? And what happens if something happens to either of us, huh? The remnants of Boston, not even Sanctuary Hills, aren't a safe place.
*sigh* I'll cross that bridge when I get there, I guess. I know there'll be more blood before this is all over. There's this machine-building lunatic called the Mechanist at large. An assaultron -- this person-shaped death machine -- named Ada was the sole survivor of an attack by the Mechanist's bots. If I'm to stop any more bloodshed from those killer machines, I'll need to track down... Christ, robobrains. I'd never heard of anything like them before, but they, like... okay. Who the fuck uses a human brain as the CPU for a fucking robot? Seriously!
Apparently, old daddy dearest may've had something to do with them. I saw the RobCo logo etched onto the plating of those mad scientists' inventions. Ada and I had tracked a beacon from the Mechanist down at an old Wattz Electronic factory. Shame to say I didn't find a laser pistol therein their 1000 line, but... well. If I have the caps later on, I've got an even scarier energy weapon in store to buy from the general store at Diamond City. Heheh.
Which brings us back to Diamond City. Some chick named Piper, hated for writing provoking newspapers, helped lead me to an investigator. Turns out the PI, Nick Valentine, had gone missing. Also turns out that the Minutemen aren't the only out-of-time faction around these parts. Old-school mobsters in pressed suits with tommy guns stood between me and saving Nick, who got duped into a femme fatale's trap. Among all of Skinny Malone's closest bodyguards -- Nick's old enemy with an ironic nickname -- that bitch with the bat hit the floor dying first. Me and my trusty ol' Sanctuary Special made it so.
...when we got back to Nick's office, we went over everything I knew from the kidnapping of Shaun. The murder of Nate. I thought there this Institute that everyone yaps about was a bogeyman enough. But this guy's name that matches... fuck, my husband's killer has to be him!
Kellogg. That cold merc with a grating voice that rasped deep into me. Professional-like, but without any known buyers. Leathers, scar, scruffy face. All of his enemies dead, and allegedly loves big fuck-off weapons.
All of his enemies except one. Yer talking to her.
Even if the mayor was useless, his secretary found it in her heart to give me Kellogg's key. He had a house in the ballpark that got seized. I seized not only some stims he had in a secret room in his shack, but also a cigar. With the help of a dog I've barely called a friend, we're getting Shaun back. Kellogg is dead meat.
*panting from Dogmeat*
Yeah, you. Who's a good sniffy doggo? Who's gonna help me track down a motherfucker? You!
...I didn't think I'd be strong enough to survive this world turned upside-down. I didn't think I'd have the strength to carry on after Nate was murdered and Shaun was taken. I'd have thought I'd die numerous times. And I never thought I'd become as reckless -- some might say ruthless -- in avenging and protecting folk who didn't serve any of the shit they've suffered.
That was then. This is now.
Chapter Twelve: Thereby, Become A Monster
November 11: Afternoon
*white noise from outside, and a curious whine from Dogmeat*
I know, boy. I, I need to collect my thoughts. Holy moly, what a day. Craziest day in the Commonwealth wasteland to date, and I don't know how to recite this all. I'd love to start at the beginning, but it's a looooong fuckin' story. So why not get to the point, I guess? Ugh.
Kellogg's fucking dead. My son is still missing, and I don't know where to find him again. And if you remember the Brotherhood, they've just flown a big-ass airship over the skies just minutes ago, deploying vertibirds and everything.
I spent all night last night following Dogmeat. Managed to sneak past two of those big-ass Deathclaw monsters fighting each other. Got attacked not only by mole rats -- one led by a glowing green one like an alpha wolf -- but also by the Mechanist's bots. It doesn't even begin to describe what happened when I found Kellogg's base.
That asshole was holed up at the ruins of Fort Hagen. Old military base. I probably would've been stationed there if I got through basic training, in between being called to trouble. So... maybe a week at most before deployment. Turrets were up and running, so I took those out with a combat rifle I found days ago, fittingly enough. Might retire the pipe sniper rifle I've cobbled together, because this .45 packs a punch. Ol' Longshot served his purpose well.
Once I snuck in through the big garage, I was swarmed with synths. Even found one that really knew what it was doing. If they weren't sneaking up on me and firing those pale, piss-poor lasers, they were charging at me with shock batons. I was lucky enough to find one that had a combat shotgun. Never liked the double-barrel ones, so I scooped that up and wrecked bots with it.
By the time I got to the inner quarters of the joint, Kellogg was aware I was on my warpath. Taunted me. His voice was still sandpaper on the snout, but his words... his words weren't what I expected. Halfway through he damn-near began to negotiate with me with ice in his blood. Telling me this was a bad idea. Even commending me for making it as far as I did.
I didn't care. In retrospect, I know he was jaded from all the fucked-up shit he's done. Killing my husband and taking my son was just another Tuesday for him. I know it. But despite how cold and aloof his words were, that only made my blood boil. I passed through an office with two American flags to get to a computer room. Gadgets of a make I'd never seen before. And there's the scar-faced fucker right before me, with two hand-picked synths as his backup.
I don't think I'd told you that I modified Danse's gifted laser before. I managed to find a working pistol grip, even a comfy one. I held that thing white-knuckle as he told me he'd given Shaun to the Institute. I snarled at him as he told me I was dead for meeting him. But you know something? I remember exactly the last words I said to him. The last coherent ones before I shot up this mixture of Psycho and Buffout I brewed up. The last threat before I burned his androids to ashes with Righteous Authority, and the last threat he'd ever receive from the only one who could take him down.
*silence*
"In one-hundred years", I told him, "When I finally die, I hope I go to Hell so I can kill you all over again. You piece of shit".
I meant every word of it. The coward pulled his Magnum on me, and up and vanished. I now know he used some kind of cloaking device, not unlike the one I took from the safe in the speakeasy. Danse had mentioned it before when we talked shop. It was a Stealth Boy. But even as he hid from sight, both Dogmeat and I could smell him. When he moved too much, his body resembled shimmering air. By now, I knew how to read angles when his .44 slugs punched through my hide.
The combat drug I spiked burned as it pumped into my veins. For a moment my memory blacked out in the induced rage. Not long enough for me to miss how I took that bastard's life. I had gotten the bad itch from Psycho maybe a week ago. I was coherent enough from excessive use to stay focused. Can't help but feel this is exactly how Grognak would fight, if he were real.
My laser beam sliced Kellogg's fucking head off. Broke the Stealth Boy too. After I was done burning extra holes into his lifeless face, I punted it harder than I'd ever kicked in my life. Something fell out of his skull when it cracked against the metal doors. Something digital. I scooped that up and his hand cannon, and too consumed with rage to make sense of it all, I stormed out of the fort.
*silence again, then sniffling*
I'm holding Nate's murder weapon in my hand. Th-this was nothing. My body aches from the bullets, and the lasers, and electrical-burned bruises. I don't know how to find the bogeymen of Boston. If anyone knew where the goddamned Institute was, they'd... they'd...
...this was all for nothing. I killed him for nothing.
*Dana begins to sob ugly*
What have I become?! What's the fucking POINT?!
November 11: Afternoon
*white noise from outside, and a curious whine from Dogmeat*
I know, boy. I, I need to collect my thoughts. Holy moly, what a day. Craziest day in the Commonwealth wasteland to date, and I don't know how to recite this all. I'd love to start at the beginning, but it's a looooong fuckin' story. So why not get to the point, I guess? Ugh.
Kellogg's fucking dead. My son is still missing, and I don't know where to find him again. And if you remember the Brotherhood, they've just flown a big-ass airship over the skies just minutes ago, deploying vertibirds and everything.
I spent all night last night following Dogmeat. Managed to sneak past two of those big-ass Deathclaw monsters fighting each other. Got attacked not only by mole rats -- one led by a glowing green one like an alpha wolf -- but also by the Mechanist's bots. It doesn't even begin to describe what happened when I found Kellogg's base.
That asshole was holed up at the ruins of Fort Hagen. Old military base. I probably would've been stationed there if I got through basic training, in between being called to trouble. So... maybe a week at most before deployment. Turrets were up and running, so I took those out with a combat rifle I found days ago, fittingly enough. Might retire the pipe sniper rifle I've cobbled together, because this .45 packs a punch. Ol' Longshot served his purpose well.
Once I snuck in through the big garage, I was swarmed with synths. Even found one that really knew what it was doing. If they weren't sneaking up on me and firing those pale, piss-poor lasers, they were charging at me with shock batons. I was lucky enough to find one that had a combat shotgun. Never liked the double-barrel ones, so I scooped that up and wrecked bots with it.
By the time I got to the inner quarters of the joint, Kellogg was aware I was on my warpath. Taunted me. His voice was still sandpaper on the snout, but his words... his words weren't what I expected. Halfway through he damn-near began to negotiate with me with ice in his blood. Telling me this was a bad idea. Even commending me for making it as far as I did.
I didn't care. In retrospect, I know he was jaded from all the fucked-up shit he's done. Killing my husband and taking my son was just another Tuesday for him. I know it. But despite how cold and aloof his words were, that only made my blood boil. I passed through an office with two American flags to get to a computer room. Gadgets of a make I'd never seen before. And there's the scar-faced fucker right before me, with two hand-picked synths as his backup.
I don't think I'd told you that I modified Danse's gifted laser before. I managed to find a working pistol grip, even a comfy one. I held that thing white-knuckle as he told me he'd given Shaun to the Institute. I snarled at him as he told me I was dead for meeting him. But you know something? I remember exactly the last words I said to him. The last coherent ones before I shot up this mixture of Psycho and Buffout I brewed up. The last threat before I burned his androids to ashes with Righteous Authority, and the last threat he'd ever receive from the only one who could take him down.
*silence*
"In one-hundred years", I told him, "When I finally die, I hope I go to Hell so I can kill you all over again. You piece of shit".
I meant every word of it. The coward pulled his Magnum on me, and up and vanished. I now know he used some kind of cloaking device, not unlike the one I took from the safe in the speakeasy. Danse had mentioned it before when we talked shop. It was a Stealth Boy. But even as he hid from sight, both Dogmeat and I could smell him. When he moved too much, his body resembled shimmering air. By now, I knew how to read angles when his .44 slugs punched through my hide.
The combat drug I spiked burned as it pumped into my veins. For a moment my memory blacked out in the induced rage. Not long enough for me to miss how I took that bastard's life. I had gotten the bad itch from Psycho maybe a week ago. I was coherent enough from excessive use to stay focused. Can't help but feel this is exactly how Grognak would fight, if he were real.
My laser beam sliced Kellogg's fucking head off. Broke the Stealth Boy too. After I was done burning extra holes into his lifeless face, I punted it harder than I'd ever kicked in my life. Something fell out of his skull when it cracked against the metal doors. Something digital. I scooped that up and his hand cannon, and too consumed with rage to make sense of it all, I stormed out of the fort.
*silence again, then sniffling*
I'm holding Nate's murder weapon in my hand. Th-this was nothing. My body aches from the bullets, and the lasers, and electrical-burned bruises. I don't know how to find the bogeymen of Boston. If anyone knew where the goddamned Institute was, they'd... they'd...
...this was all for nothing. I killed him for nothing.
*Dana begins to sob ugly*
What have I become?! What's the fucking POINT?!
