General Aubrey Wilson, Commonwealth Minutemen

An in-character blog for simpleEnthusiast's Fallout 4 OC, Aubrey Wilson. Icon by Eisenhexa.

[vannral]

i can't get over this random dude writing self-insert friend fiction about the ketheric battle

ALSO BALSIN

[biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist]

I'm a simple bitch. i believe the purpose of government should be to improve the lives of its citizens and protect its most vulnerable members. unfortunately i live in a day and age where this gets me labeled an enemy of the state

[queer-is-future-deactivated2025]

so when straight people ask me why I say I’m “queer” or “gay” instead of sharing my actual identity as a panromantic demisexual non-binary sapphic queer I just tell them “ok look, when you’re talking to someone who isn’t local and they ask you where you’re from and you either say the name of the largest city nearby or ‘town name, suburb of large nearby city’ so they can get some geographical context of where you’re located right, bc they’re probably not going to know the name of the little town you actually live in.”

but if you’re talking to a local you can say the name of your actual town bc they have a greater chance of knowing where/what that is.

ok well when I’m talking to a straight person I start with queer bc chances are they aren’t as familiar with the context of all the little towns in that big queer city and need gps (gay positioning system) to find me.

if I’m talking to another queer person and I say I live in a suburb of gay city in a town called panromantic on the demisexual side of the tracks which is in the county of queer and I live off the intersection of non-binary and sapphic, they’d probably be able to find me with little to no problems, make sense?

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

Also because my exact address in Queertown is usually nobody's business.

[tarragonthedragon]

In either case, you only need all the details if you're coming back to my place.

[gryphye]

Or in my case, you need all the details to know you're not coming back to my place.

Unless it's game night.

[theconcealedweapon]

[iamnmbr3]

This is wildly illegal. Do not let them get away with it. Call your reps! And then call them again. Then join the nearest protest.

[cotw-aubreywilson]

[Pip-Boy Journal Speech-to-Text Protocol Active, beginning transcription:]

 I didn’t find him! I wasn’t fast enough! I couldn’t–Kellogg, he– he gave Shaun to– [Unintelligible, please correct manually] to the FUCKING INSTITUTE– [Unintelligible, please correct manually]

He’s dead… I killed him… oh my God, I killed him!  He kept– fucking… taunting me!  About… Shaun…. About Nate!  Oh my God, what have I done?! What have I– [Unintelligible, please correct manually.]

“Ms. West, you need to sit down now.  Come on, we’ll be safe here.”

Sit down? No, I… I don’t– I have to find–

“Come on, this place is clear.  I had a look.  Come on, have a seat here; catch your breath… there you go.”

I was so close. So, so close!  I missed him by THAT MUCH! [Unintelligible, please correct manually.] I’ll never find him, oh god… He’s only a baby– [Unintelligible, please correct manually]

“Hey now, take some deep breaths.  I know you’re hurting, anyone would be.  But you have to bring your voice down.  Take some deep breaths, alright?  Just start with one.”

…

…

…

“There.  That’s better.  Now, listen to me:  we’re going to rest here, then when morning comes, we’ll take this tech back to Diamond City.  We’ll talk to Piper and we’ll figure out where to go from there.  This isn’t over, Ms. West.  Not on my watch.”

[Sniff] But–

“There is more than one way to skin a cat.  We *will* find your boy.  You have my word on that.  Now, just lay back, alright?  I’ll keep watch.  You talk to your Pip-boy, get your thoughts out that way.”

...

I don’t… I can’t anymore… Not right now

“Then just try and rest for a few minutes. You’ve had a hell of a shock, and a long day before that to boot.  Just rest. Have some water.  I’ll keep an eye out for anything dangerous.”

…

Okay… thank you. Oh, hey Dog–

[End log]

[cotw-aubreywilson]

[Pip-Boy Journal Speech-to-Text Protocol Active, beginning transcription:] 

Personal Log: November 5th, 2287

Valentine certainly seems to be a competent detective.  Within 24 hours of my rescuing him, we had a lead.  It’s a longshot, no doubt, but a lead nonetheless.  Someone named ‘Kellogg.’  Apparently he lived in Diamond City for a spell, then vanished about a week ago, without a trace.  Valentine suggested using Dogmeat as a bloodhound, and despite my initial skepticism, he seems to be tracking… something.

I don’t know if it’s actually the man’s scent, or the scent of his beer and cigars that he keeps leaving behind, but whatever it is, it seems to be working. … But now it’s raining, again.  I’ve watched enough Mythbusters to know that water doesn’t ‘wash away’ a scent like in the movies, but… that test was done in optimal conditions:  sunny day, with the one guy only sloshing his ankles through a tiny little river, not being attacked by angry wildlife every five minutes… … All of this is a massive longshot, but it’s all I have to go on.  Even if this Kellogg person isn’t the man Valentine thinks he is, then maybe we’ll still be able to get some answers out of him. It’s been a while since I’ve done any information gathering, court-room style, but it should be like riding a bike.

I know this is all wishful thinking.   But a wish is better than despair. … The nights are getting colder with each passing day.  Valentine loaned me his spare coat, and old faded trench coat, that used to be dark green in its past life.  He still hasn’t asked me to pay him, but I can’t help but hear a little ‘ka-ching’ in my head with every little favor he offers me.  

“Ms. West?  That molerat meat is about finished over here, unless you wanna be chewing on leather for a few hours.”

Huh?  Oh, right.   [Unintelligible, please correct manually].  I’m not bothering you, am I?  Over here talking to myself?”

“Not in the least.  It’s a healthier way of working through your thoughts than most people have.  Take your time, I’ll walk the perimeter.  [Whistle] Here, boy.”

Thanks…. Oh, damn. Looks like it recorded all of that. Need to erase it later, when I get to a terminal again.

Anyway, we’ve taken up residence in what used to be a restaurant outside of…Fairline Hills, I think was the name of the place.  Moved some tables and chairs around to keep out the rain and wind. … This meat tastes awful.  Carbon-scored, as my father would’ve called it.  But it’s preferable to going hungry, or getting sick from it being undercooked.  Navy survival cooking: char it to a crisp, then pray.  Never thought I’d have to use it. … Once we confront this Kellogg person and I have my son back, I’m going back to the Brotherhood, I’ve decided.  They seem to be the only stable employer around here. And Shaun’s health and safety have to come first. No matter how much I don’t want to be in the military again.

[End log]

[cotw-aubreywilson]

[Pip-boy Journal Terminal Interface Active: Hello Aubrey!]

Personal Log: 03 November 2287

It’s late.  Very late.   Piper was kind enough to loan me her terminal so I could type this out instead of using the Speech-to-Text function.

I’ve found the detective, Valentine.   He’s one of those androids.  When his secretary gave me his description, that was something she neglected to mention. And it would’ve been extraordinarily helpful to have that info before I went traipsing through a mobster wannabe–infested subway station turned Vault.

Yeah, very long story. I was able to get in with very little trouble.  The gang in question had a kid in charge of guarding the main entrance.  He couldn’t have been more than 15 or 16. Poor kid. He led me and Piper through the station to the Vault 114 entrance, then said he could go no further.  I told him to leave the place, to find something better to do with himself.  He wasn’t around when I left, and I didn’t see his corpse… I hope he’ll head towards one of the farms or to the city.

Anyway, like I said: I rescued Valentine.  He insisted I rest for the night, since I hurt my arm in the firefight while we were trying to get OUT of the damn place.   Piper gave me a Stimpak then and there, but I’m still very sore, and I probably won’t be in any condition to fight for a day or two.

Pain’s keeping me awake though, and I’m loathe to wake the town doctor at this time of night. He probably has enough on his plate as it is.  So here I am, plunking away at a cobbled together computer terminal, trying not to wake Piper or her younger sister.

I’ve found the detective who can help me find my son… I just hope I can afford his rates. Something tells me that gratitude alone won’t pay the man’s bills.  If I can’t pay, I don’t know what I’ll do.  At this point, he’s my only hope to find Shaun.

I suppose I’ll have to wait and see what morning brings.

In the meantime, I should probably rest.

A West, signing off.

[End log]

[cotw-aubreywilson]

[Pip-Boy Journal Speech-to-Text Protocol Active, beginning transcription:] 

November 1st log, supplemental.

The more I think about it, the more this Brotherhood of Steel seems to be a good option. Judging from what I’ve seen, there aren’t many paths a person can take.  You either win the birth lottery and manage to open up a shop in a trade hub, or you become a farmer.  If you’re not one of those, you’re one of these ‘Raiders,’ taking what you want or need at gunpoint. None of these are professions I’d do well in.  I’m not a salesperson, nor do I know the first thing about farming, aside from the extraordinarily dumbed-down version of ‘put seed in ground, add water, then suddenly food.” … Forgot to mention earlier: Preston set out for Oberland Station. Don’t know how he was planning on avoiding the rain, but his business is his own, I suppose. He seemed genuine in his well-wishes to me about finding Shaun.  I’m just miffed that it is still raining.  Meaning that it’s taking me that much longer to find this detective, so I can find Shaun. … God I wish Nate were here… He’d know what to say… what to do.

[End log]

[cotw-aubreywilson]

[Pip-Boy Journal Speech-to-Text Protocol Active, beginning transcription:] 

Personal Log, November 1st, 2287

I finally made it to Diamond City.  It’s… not what I expected.  Compared to what I’ve seen in other places in the area, it’s definitely a city, but… it barely qualifies by Pre-War standards.

The place is littered with trash, and I don’t even want to think about what they’re doing with their sewage.  The ‘clean water’ market at the back of the town is run by a child.   Something tells me that I should boil whatever water I get from it for at least an hour prior to drinking it, no matter how ‘clean’ it might be.

Hell, the rain water is probably cleaner.

In any event, the people here are scared out of their minds.  I spent almost all of yesterday begging anyone who might listen for help with finding Shaun, or even just to point me in the right direction, but… only the local reporter, Piper, and the gunsmith, Arturo, were willing to help. And even then, Arturo was reluctant. I think he only helped me because he has a child of his own.  Sweet girl, really.  Bit shy, but that’s probably a good thing in this world.

And Piper insisted on an interview before she’d offer any substantial help.  I know bartering and the exchange of services is going to be a prerequisite for practically everything, but an interview? Really?

…

She’s offered to help me out, even walked me over to the detective’s office herself.  But the detective has gone missing, for Christ’s sake.   Just my fucking luck.

The woman we spoke to, seemingly the man’s secretary, told us his last known location was Park Street Station.  

Unfortunately, it immeidiately started pouring last night, and it hasn’t let up since.  Piper’s using the time to write her artile about me, asking me questions every so often from her upstairs loft.  She was kind enough to let me sleep on her couch, citing her reason being ‘saving me from Vadim’s Open Mic Night.’

On the bright side, I was able to trade some of the bits and pieces I’d gathered for some proper clothing and finally get out of the damned Vault suit.  Hopefully now I won’t be such a walking target out there.

…

I’d say it felt nice to be in clean clothes, but I don’t think these people know much about laundry. Hell, I’d have to learn.  Washing machines and dryers don’t really work anymore. “Hey Blue, wanna look over this before I throw it into the press?”

Oh, uh… sure.  Let me just– [End log]

[cotw-aubreywilson]

[Pip-Boy Journal Speech-to-Text Protocol Active, beginning transcription:]

Personal Log, October 30th, 2287.

Met another group that seems to call the area around here home, even if it’s temporary: The Brotherhood of Steel. They were camped out at Cambridge Police Station, sent out a distress call.  Preston and I answered.  We helped them fend off some ‘feral ghouls’ as Preston calls them.  The way he tells it, they’re just... shells of a human being, their minds destroyed by radiation.  I don’t know if that’s all there is to it, but they certainly didn’t seem capable of reasoning, considering the way they charged blindly forward to try and punch a man in Power Armor, of all things.  Anyway, the Brotherhood squad needed to send a message to their officers, apparently out of range.  Wasn’t too hard to believe, considering we only picked up their distress call from about a mile away.   Well, we agreed to help them raid the old ArcJet systems building.  I didn’t think much of it at first, but the building was crawling with androids.  Very real, very hostile, honest-to-god Star Trek style androids.   Danse, the leader of the Brotherhood unit, called them ‘synths’ and said they were made by a group that calls themselves ‘The Institute.’  Only ‘institute’ I know of in the area is CIT, just this side of the Charles.  I’ll have a look around the place, since we’ll have to pass it in order to get to Fenway Park.  Ugh, I mean Diamond City.  Preston confirmed that Diamond City is indeed built out of the baseball stadium. But anyway, that’s not the most interesting part of this story:  Once we’d finished clearing ArcJet, Danse offered us both a place in the Brotherhood.  Preston downright refused, probably due to the fact that he has some sort of issue with them. ... But I’m not sure how I feel.  One one hand, I’m not keen on re-joining any sort of military or quasi-pseudo-military thing, and one of the existing members has already made it quite clear that I’m not welcome. On the other, joining them could provide some stability once I have Shaun back.  I don’t care about the fancy tech they could offer me, or to go thromping around wearing two tons of Power Armor, I just want Shaun to be safe.  And a military group could provide safety, food, water, shelter... potentially healthcare, or at least what may pass for it nowadays. And to top it off, my skill sets don’t exactly match this new world.  There’s no institutional justice system anymore, everything seems to operate on the ‘eye for an eye’ principle, thus my being a lawyer doesn’t count for a whole helluva lot.  And I don’t think being a travelling minstrel would work out with an infant to care for. ... But I do know how to be in the military. ... I’d better wake Preston up soon, it’s almost 6am, and he mentioned getting a move on towards Diamond City as soon as possible.  Frankly, I don’t blame him. I just hope he doesn’t hate me when I return to Cambridge later to join this Brotherhood.  In a world like this, I’d rather not spend my time looking gift horses in the mouth. I know I promised I’d help him with the Minutemen, but I have an infant son that I have to think about too. [End of log.]

[cotw-aubreywilson]

[Pip-Boy Journal Speech-to-Text Protocol Active, beginning transcription:] Personal Log, October 27, 2287. It’s been 5 days for me.  Five days since the world was destroyed in atomic fire.  Five days since Nate was shot in cold blood and Shaun was ripped from his arms.  Five days since I crawled out of the tomb that is now Vault 111 and started trying to figure out how this new world works. ... Thank god Codsworth is still here. I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it if he weren’t.  He’s been a rock while I try to get back on my feet. ... I suppose I should start at the beginning, now that I found this journal.  The world ended on October 23, 2077 around 9am, if I remember correctly. My family and I ran to the Vault and were cryogenically frozen against our wills.  At some point we were unfrozen, and Nathan West, my husband, was killed while trying to protect my son, Shaun from three unknown assailants.  Then I was refrozen.  I don’t know for how long.  When I was unfrozen again, I tried my best to revive Nate, but he was too far gone.  The rest of the cryopods had all malfunctioned as well.  Aside from myself (and Shaun, I hope), no one survived.

I left the Vault and returned to Sanctuary Hills, my home.  I was able to reunite with Codsworth, who amazingly enough, was still functioning.  At his prompting, I traveled to Concord in search of help, or at the very least, clues as to who took my son and where.  I found no sign of Shaun or his kidnappers, but I did rescue a group of five refugees from the Quincy area.  They’re now living in the remnants of the Rosa family’s house, across the street from mine.  They have plans to set up a greenhouse with some crops they managed to transplant.  I also assisted a small family farm to the east of here with some ‘raiders’ that were threatening and harassing them. ... Despite my attempts, I was unable to reason with them or reach any sort of diplomatic agreement and I was forced to defend myself... with lethal force.

Once I’d assisted the farmers and refugees, the leader, Preston Garvey, approached me; asked me to join a group called the Minutemen (with similar enough ideas to their namesake), and then promptly promoted me to General, of all things. ... I’ll have to find him a new one somehow.  I don’t mind helping where help is needed; in a world like this, a helping hand and kind smile might go a long way to getting help with finding Shaun, but I’m not cut out to be a general of anything. Not here, not now. ... My only lead on Shaun right now is a place called Diamond City.  According to the coordinates I was given, it’s in the middle of downtown Boston, near Fenway Park from what I can tell.  Granted, the lead is from an old woman who claims to have some sort of supernatural foresight, but at this point it’s all I have.  At least if it is some sort of trading hub or what-have-you, then I might be able to glean or find some information about who in this area is in the business of kidnapping infants. ... Which brings us to now. ... Codsworth has agreed to stay here in Sanctuary and help the new settlers where he can. Garvey and I are heading for Diamond City in the morning. He’s agreed to help me since I’ve helped him and his people. [End of log]