Holmes in the Commonwealth

Being a collection of articles and transcription of the audio journal of Mr. Holmes, of the Commonwealth, in the year 2287. (If this is your first visit, it is highly recommended you start at the beginning. There is also a FAQ page.)

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 15

The morning crawled by, each moment longer than the next. Gage wanted to go over the Commonwealth invasion plan, so made himself at home on the patio while he and Holmes discussed a variety of approaches and ways to create chaos and maybe get some slave collars on settlers. Holmes maintained a firm stance of nonviolence unless necessary out of practicality— settlements need settlers to run them, after all. Gage was sensible enough to agree, and thought the General of the Minutemen suddenly commanding settlers to pay rent to raiders was hilarious.

I flipped on the radio. The raiders had their own station, run by a fella calling himself RedEye. He doubled as the announcer for the Gauntlet. No music, just updates about the park and gang business. This morning, he was reading letters sent in.

"And now, a note: "The Pack rules!" Okay, sure, and on the back is... no. Damn it, Mason, I told you— I am NOT howling. Ever."

Gage looked at me strangely, “You never turned that on before.”

I shrugged, “Anything’s gotta be better than listening to you try to make plans.”

He turned back to Holmes, “Boss, why the hell is the scrap heap still here? Can’t we turn him into parts or something?”

“No, Mr. Gage, you cannot,” Holmes said, perfectly calm.

“What if you do it, and I just watch?”

“I have no interest in voyeurism, thank you,” Holmes muttered.

It took Gage a minute, then he didn’t know if he should laugh or be disgusted. He settled on unsettled. “Uh huh.”

"This here is Raider Radio - don't forget, if you've got something you want everyone to hear, you're probably wrong and whatever it is sucks. But if you insist, drop us a note and we'll read it on-air… oh. *laughing* Oh, Yeah! Attention all my favorite undesirables out there! In case you haven't noticed, the Nuka-Express just pulled in! Looks like we got ourselves some fresh meat to run the Gauntlet!"

"About time Harvey came back," Gage grumbled.

Holmes got into his armor, “Let’s not be late to our own show.”

"And he's off! Let's hope our latest prey can draw a little... inspiration from our previous victims!”

We hurried down and made our way to the arena. I snuck a quick peek inside the marketplace as we passed; Deacon was dressed as a trader, perusing the wares while his hired muscle Cait looked bored. MacCready was haggling over the price of ammunition at the weapons stall. At least one part of the plan was in place.

Word of the event had spread, every radio in Nuka-Town on and tuned to the play-by-play.

"I think that monkey's playing your death march, vic… huh! Alright, this guy’s good with a laser rifle, I’ll give him that. But don’t worry, the Gauntlet's still got plenty in store for this one.”

“You got this?” Gage asked Holmes.

Holmes nodded. “I’m in power armor for a reason, Gage. I won’t be using the power grid as my predecessor did, but I’m not stupid enough to be in the middle of that arena without protection.”

"Haha! Who doesn't love a good explosion!”

I winced. Hopefully whoever was running through this death trap would make it out ok. I had no idea what we were going to do if they made it to the other side before Preston had a chance to attack, but I couldn’t worry about that now.

Some raiders had already taken seats in the arena when we arrived, with more coming in. Mason was already present with a small number of the Pack, along with Mags and William Black with some Operators. Nisha and a handful of Disciples soon came in after us. The seating area was split between the gangs; the Operators had a two-story set-up, complete with an elevator. The ground floor held a bar, couches, and chairs, while the top floor had more chairs and a patio table. On the other side were the Disciples, just four benches and then up a set of stairs to two more benches, all decorated with the heads of their enemies. Between the two were the Pack; rubble, cages, and three chairs.

"Aw, what? Call me crazy, but I think our vic's got something against fun. You know how hard it is to set those traps, man? Least you could do is step on them."

Anyone who didn’t have a seat with their leaders had to stand behind the fence surrounding the arena, which seemed just fine with them. Holmes made his way into the middle of the ring, Gage following. Lacking any signal from Holmes, I followed Gage. Gage was about to take issue with this when a panicked Operator ran straight for us.

“Overboss! Super mutants in Dry Gulch!”

“What?!” Mags and William stood up, furious.

“What did you see?” Holmes commanded.

“I was going to Dry Gulch, saw a super mutant just inside the entrance. They must have taken over the park!”

“Sucks to be you,” Nisha called from her seat.

I kept carefully neutral. Seemed Strong had been a little too enthusiastic about getting the party started.

“We’ll deal with it later,” Holmes said. At the predictably outraged protest from the Operators, Holmes shouted, “Your people are already dead, Mags! What is charging in without a plan going to accomplish?”

"Goddamn, look who's in the homestretch! Time for a little audience participation!”

Holmes gestured as if the announcement proved his point. “Let everyone have a little fun, and then I’ll use Dry Gulch to test the Nuka-Launcher.” He paused, then added, “I’ll even let you fire the first shot.”

The Operators weren’t happy, but they backed down. I noticed the Pack’s ears had perked up at the sound of new weapons being tested, the Disciples muttering to each other. Gage nodded in approval, “Can’t wait to see what that thing can do.”

An emergency door alarm sounded. The raiders cheered.

"Well, I'll be damned. You know what that sound means! Get your ass down to Cola-Cars. The main event's about to begin!"

Gage stepped back off to the side. I followed, much to his displeasure, but he decided to ignore me and focus on the upcoming fight.

"Get over to Cola-Cars, and watch the new Overboss crush our latest vic! Power armor on power armor, oh man, I hope someone’s core gets blown! The stands are filling up fast. Better hurry 'cause for losers, it's standing room only."

He was right, the stands were full and a steady stream of raiders were still pouring in, packing the standing room around the ring— wait. Both fighters were in power armor?

I smiled.

The crowd shouted and raged, cheering for blood as Holmes stood passively in his armor, rifle in his hands. The volume only grew as the victim emerged from the locker room. At first glance, Overboss and victim looked to be dressed in the same model of power armor, except that one was Quantum blue and the other was gunmetal grey, the white emblem of the Minutemen painted on his breastplate.

“General,” greeted Danse.

“Lieutenant Colonel,” Holmes said. “I see you made it in one piece.”

“The fuck,” growled Gage beside me as the crowd muttered, catching on too fast.

Holmes and Danse started circling each other. “I have to admit," Danse said, "the death traps were inventive. I was dismayed to learn you’d become the leader of a bunch of low-life, honorless vermin.”

“Oh, come now, Danse, that’s an unfair assessment. These are organized honorless vermin.”

Holmes’s joke got a few snickers and the crowd seemed to sense a fight would be coming after all. The chattering started up again, catcalls that the Overboss “shoot him already” starting.

Gage shifted restless and wary, "The hell is he waiting for?"

My geiger counter started ticking.

Danse nearly attacked in surprise when the glowing ghoul in a tux suddenly appeared in a puff of smoke. Oz removed his hat and bowed to his audience, "I apologize for the interruption, but it's time for the real show to begin!"

A blast of radiation filled the arena, catching every raider unprotected and off guard as the two men in power armor started firing into the seating area. As Gage staggered, I decked him with a left hook.

"Wanted to do that for days," I muttered, and suddenly felt something heavy in my pocket. It was the squirt gun we'd used to take down Colter, significantly modified.

There was no sign of Oswald. "Alright, that's impressive," I chuckled as the sounds of a firefight outside got closer. "Move it, fellas!" I shouted.

Danse and Holmes made their retreat as the always-armed raiders started firing back.

"You don't typically fight in power armor," Danse shouted over the fight.

"I thought it prudent for the occasion!" Holmes shouted back.

"I'm proud of you, sir. Though the color is… a lot."

I shouldn't have taken my eyes off Gage. Son of a bitch took off running, and a bunch of raiders were following his example. Danse, Holmes, and I made it outside through the chaos to find Nuka-Town had become a warzone.

"Move, General!" Preston shouted, and pitched a Nuka-grenade right through the door of the arena. We moved fast. Danse kept shooting at anyone trying to escape the arena while Holmes and I checked out the chaos in the park. Preston caught us up; “Minutebots and a squad of Minutemen are clearing out the Disciples from Fizztop Mountain. MacCready is on the patio of the Grill, sniping any raider he sees. Deacon and Cait took care of the guards in the Marketplace, now Curie has it locked down while she and Dr. Bridgeman tend the wounded. Minutemen cleaned out the Parlor, thanks to these grenades, and Strong is having the time of his life in the amphitheater against the Pack. Hancock is—”

A symphony of shotgun blasts nearby were followed by a hoarse shout, “Come on. At least try!”

Preston shrugged, “He’s taking care of everyone else.”

"Danse and I will make sure no one gets out of the arena," Holmes said, "Valentine, you and Preston assist wherever needed."

We got to work. I kept the water gun in my pocket; didn't have any ammo for it and didn't want to waste the shot. Pistol in hand, I did my best to help every Minuteman I spotted. This was a mess.

I found Hancock fighting near the amphitheater; he was hurt bad, but still cracking wise. "Facing off against me? I'd be scared too," he grunted as he turned and blew a hole through the raider that had shot him in the back.

I hurried forward, geiger counter ticking as Oswald reached him first. Oz waved his hands, glowed a little brighter, and conjured up some magic.

"Holy shit," Hancock breathed and stood straighter. "You need a job after this, I know a whole town of ghouls where you'd be real popular."

Oz blinked. "Oh. I'll… consider it."

I shot the raiders coming up behind them. "You know there's still a war going on?!"

"Stick with me, brother," Hancock grinned wickedly, and headed into the amphitheater.

Oz nodded, grabbed a machete off a dead raider, and followed.

"Strong kill all raiders!!!" came the bellow from inside.

"C'mon big guy, you need help!" Hancock scolded back.

I figured they were fine.

The marketplace, on the other hand, had a problem. A couple Minutemen had been attacked while they tried to haul some wounded inside. Curie leaped into battle to keep the raiders from entering, and help arrived in the form of a very angry redhead with a baseball bat.

"Bloody fuckin' nobs!" Cait shouted as she swung. "Get yer arses back to whatever shite spawned ya!"

Deacon suddenly appeared next to me, "Raider on the lift!"

"What?!"

"A raider took the lift up! Saw the lift moving but I was out of range for the shot—"

"Help Cait and Curie!" I was already running. I had a sinking feeling I knew who I would find.

Gage hadn't counted on a mercenary being on the Fizztop Grill's patio; he and MacCready were grappling over Gage's rifle near the door. Gage's side was bloody but that wasn't slowing him down as he head-butted MacCready before knocking him back and clocking him with the butt of the gun. I shot at him from the lift, but only nicked him as he made it inside.

I ran to MacCready. He was unconscious with a broken nose, but he was breathing. I took the moment to reload, stood up, and was knocked backward by a mini-nuke launcher swung at my skull.

"This would have worked if it weren't for you!" Gage growled.

My optics were flickering, couldn't aim straight. "Holmes would rather be dead than be your Overboss."

Gage rolled his eyes, "People say shit like that all the time, until it comes time to die." Bastard tackled me against the bar, shoved a hand through my neck and grabbed my spine to hold me there. Hurt like hell, so much I dropped my gun to claw at his hand, try to pry him off without making it hurt even more.

"How're you… planning to get out?" I managed to gasp.

"Your idiot soldiers worked their way in, but didn't leave anyone standing guard behind them."

"Those 'idiot soldiers' just turned your big dream to ash."

I tried not to scream as he squeezed. "You may have decimated these assholes, but there are plenty of gangs out there. We took Nuka-World once, we'll do it again."

Then I was on the floor in a heap, watching Gage walk off toward the lift with the Nuka-Launcher. I couldn't let him get away and form whole new raider gangs equipped with Quantum-powered weapons, had to act fast…

"Gage!"

He looked over his shoulder as he stepped onto the lift and laughed. "And what the hell are you gonna do with that?"

I smirked, and held the water gun steady. "Just thought you could use a drink."

A ball of blue fired straight at Gage's chest, exploding on impact in a blast of glowing smoke and flame. The raider slumped against the lift's rails, scorched and hopefully dead. I carefully approached, on my guard, and grabbed the launcher and it's ammo. Then I dumped the body to the ground.

MacCready groaned.

I hurried over, "You ok?"

"Sure… soon as my head stops hurting."

"Stay put, don't move. I'll signal for help."

He tried to sit up, "The guy that hit me—"

"Ain't a problem anymore."

MacCready relaxed, "Good. I'll just lie here then."

I chuckled, "Good idea."

From the patio's view, I could tell the Minutemen we're winning. Gage had been right, there were raiders escaping through the gaps, but annihilating them had never been the plan. The Minutemen were here to rescue their General and free the traders, and they'd done it. Every raider in Nuka-World would shortly either be dead or on the run.

It wasn't long before Danse came marching through, leading a squad of Minutemen to root out any remaining raiders. I watched the military maneuvering for a moment before taking the lift down. "Hey, Lieutenant Colonel! MacCready needs a medic up top!"

Danse nodded and gave an order to a soldier who took off running. Then he looked me over, "Do you require assistance, Valentine?"

"Me?"

"It is unusual to see you look… tired."

I smiled, "Do I? Something must be a little out of alignment after getting my spine strangled."

"After what?"

I sighed and tried to change the subject, "Where's Holmes?"

"The General is in the Marketplace visiting the wounded and taking stock of our losses. How severe is your misalignment and is there a mechanic in this godforsaken place that can be of assistance?"

I lit a cigarette, "Anyone ever tell you you're worse than a mother hen?"

"Not in those exact words, but I believe Preston has implied similarly." The soldiers were all trying really hard not to smile. "I will remain here until medical assistance arrives for MacCready while you find Holmes in the Marketplace."

"Alright, alright," I gave up. "Thanks, Danse."

"Of course."

I heard him giving orders to his people to continue the sweep while he guarded the lift as I headed toward the market. Knowing Danse, of all people, was looking out for me was a weird sensation… though I guess I shouldn't have been surprised after everything he and Preston had done for my family. One thing getting kidnapped by raiders had done was show just how big our little family really was.

I found Holmes talking to Curie, his power armor left to the side. "How bad is it?" I asked.

He turned to me, relieved for a moment before putting on the General again. "Not as bad as I thought it would be. Nearly all of the Minutemen were injured, the ones who weren't are on patrol now with Danse and Preston, flushing out any remaining raiders. We lost a few. Dr. Bridgeman is keeping an eye on Corporal Brown's condition as we speak."

"Damn," I shook my head. "You know he just recently got that promotion?"

"So I was told," Holmes sighed. "He's not the only one we may yet lose before the day is done."

I put my hand on his shoulder, "They knew what they signed up for."

He nodded, "I know. I still…" he trailed off as he finally looked fully at me. "What happened?"

"Bit of a tussle with the Overboss's right hand man."

His face hardened, "You're hurt."

I shrugged, "A bit out of whack, nothin' Chip can't put back in place. With Curie here too, should be a cinch."

And just like that he was off across the other side of the market, striding back to me with the handyman in tow.

I feel it worth mentioning that I was right. Curie and Chip had me right as rain, MacCready was treated and soon on his feet, and Corporal Brown pulled through, some significant scarring aside. His friend Jackson assured him facial scars were sexy. He didn't believe her, but he laughed anyway. Danse and Preston confirmed Nuka-World was free of raiders, leaving Dr. Bridgeman with the awkward task of figuring out how to remove everyone's collars.

While she discussed options with Curie, Chip, Danse, and Deacon (the latter two having seen slavers in the Capital Wasteland employ a more lethal version,) Holmes and I went in search of our other allies.

We found Strong in the amphitheater, perfectly at home sitting on Mason's throne. He was eating… something. I couldn't tell what, and I didn't want to ask. Hancock and Cait were up in the seats, chatting over a flask. Hancock was drinking more of it than Cait was, I was glad to see. And every now and then he'd hand it over to the magician sitting a little father away, presumably to keep from accidentally exposing Cait to his radiation.

"General Trouble!" Hancock called as he spotted us. "Next time you get yourself kidnapped, think you could do it in less of a fortress?"

"If this had been less of a fortress, Mayor Hancock," Holmes dryly replied as we climbed the steps, "I wouldn't have remained kidnapped in the first place."

"I'm glad for it," Oswald said softly, then realized we all heard him. "I'd still be waiting for a miracle that would never happen if you hadn't come," he hurried to explain. "I don't know how long I would have stayed in that castle. Or," he looked at me, "if I'd have kept going."

Cait was tapping Hancock's shoulder with a questioning look, but he just shrugged.

"I'm glad some good came of all this," Holmes said, sincere. "Valentine tells me he offered to introduce you to the scientists in Covenant, our Minutemen Research Center."

Oz nodded, "I'd like that, I think. I, um," he glanced at Hancock, then back at us, "I'd also like to see Mayor Hancock's town, if that's alright? A city of ghouls… I lived in similar for over a hundred years."

"Might not be the sort of town yer lookin' for," Cait warned.

I nodded, "Goodneighbor follows a do-it-yourself security mentality. Anything goes, as long as it's not done out in the open."

"Hey," Hancock said, "I don't appreciate all this casting my town in a bad light. Yeah, the Goodneighbor way of life ain't for everyone, some folks don't do well with a lack of rules, but at least everyone's free."

"The solution is simple," Holmes said. "Covenant is first on the trip back. Then we'll go to the Slog, a tarberry farm run completely by ghouls, and then Goodneighbor. That will give our new friend plenty of exposure to the Commonwealth, the two primarily ghoulish settlements, and he will have time to decide what he wants to make of his life."

Oz blinked, "Friend?"

"Oh!" It hit me, "I gotta get back to the Safari Adventure, let Cito know it's all over. And someone should put the S.T.A.R cores back in the Galactic Zone, get the robots back under control." I started moving and called back over my shoulder, "Tell the traders the World of Refreshment is one hundred percent off limits, Oz's friends can wander the place in peace, but we should figure out what to do about that secret lab."

"Is he always like this?" I heard Oz ask.

Holmes laughed fondly, "No, actually. Usually I'm the one leaving him to trail behind the whirlwind. Now I know what it's like."

Cito was happy to hear we won, and even said he might visit Nuka-Town someday. The traders didn't have a problem with never going near the bottling plant, and we got the robots back under control in the Galactic Zone. Holmes decided he'd have a couple scientists come over from Covenant to investigate the secret lab and make sure there wasn't anything left over that could one day come back to bite us. This would be easy, thanks to the new Nuka-World/Commonwealth Express. Harvey was happy to act as conductor. Trade and the occasional Minuteman visit via rail would hopefully be to everyone's benefit.

With all that taken care of, it was time to finally go home. We hopped aboard the Nuka-Express and headed back to the Commonwealth. Holmes and I sat on one of the few intact benches, my arm around his shoulders as he looked out the window, oblivious to the car packed with his soldiers and friends. “What do you think is the first thing that Piper’s gonna ask us when we get back?” I joked.

He smirked, “Ha. 'Spill, Blue, gimme all the details.' What do you think is the first thing our secretary will say?”

“‘I’m so glad you’re back, how many times do I have to tell you to be careful.’”

“Mm, Ellie does say that a lot, doesn’t she?”

He leaned into me, and I chuckled. “You know, I don’t think anyone here would blink an eye if you got some well-deserved rest, Sherlock.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just thinking about Shaun.”

“Seeing him is the best part of coming home,” I nodded. “Makes all this worth it. Ha, now that Nuka-World isn’t run by raiders anymore, maybe one day we can show him what an amusement park used to be like.”

Sherlock was quiet for a long moment. By the time it occurred to me to glance down, he was fast asleep on my shoulder.

The End

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 14

I was surprised to see Curie carrying a Gauss rifle as we made the march to the Safari Zone, before I remembered that Holmes once told me about the mirelurk queen she killed with one in Murkwater. Hancock and Strong were with the other group headed to Dry Gulch. Having tangled with Operators in the bottling plant, I was confident they and their team of Minutemen could handle the lot in the old west town.

Preston was back in Kiddie Kingdom prepping for the main event, which included going over those weapons schematics from the secret lab. I doubted he'd have time to get much use out of 'em, but we'd take every edge we could get. I also hadn't made it back to Holmes like I'd planned. I hoped he was alright.

We had two Minutebots with our group. I ordered one to head around to the north entrance, while the other was going to stay put at the main south entrance. Their job was to keep anyone from escaping. We couldn't risk one of the Pack running back to base to spread the word about the attack. I wasn't looking forward to the slaughter, but sneaking out of this mess wasn't an option.

We moved in. The Pack had spread out through the zoo, which meant a constant stream of raiders to fight, but not in overwhelming numbers. The Minutemen watched our backs and kept the Pack at bay as I led Curie along the east wall, headed for local assistance. We reached the primate house in time to see a Pack member literally thrown out the door of the building. Curie confirmed he wasn't going to get up again, something about a broken neck, and I called inside, "Cito? You alright?"

He came running, a gorilla just behind him. "Friend Nick! This one," he gestured to the dead Pack member, "come into home with weapon ready to shoot. Cito stop him, fight, kill him. Easy fight. Fight all Pack now?"

"You got it," I nodded. "Your family gonna be safe inside?"

“Yes, Chris will guard door,” he gestured to the gorilla behind him. “Any Pack that enter are in for big surprise. Wanted to show him friends, just in case. Now you will not be attacked by gorilla if you enter,” he smiled cheerfully at Curie.

“I have so many questions,” she started, but I cut her off.

“Time to ask later, we gotta keep moving. Let’s go.”

We could hear the rapid fire of Minutebot guns in the distance, in both directions. The bots were sturdy, but they could only take so much punishment. I hated to split the group, but I sent half the Minutemen and Curie north while Cito and the other half of Minutemen went with me to the south.

Now, normally I'd say bringing an unarmored brawler to a gunfight isn't a great idea, but when half the thugs you're fighting come at you swinging baseball bats wrapped in barbed wire, a man raised by apes with a sledgehammer comes in handy. The Minutebot was pretty dinged up, one eye gone and an arm lost, but had successfully kept anyone from leaving the park. I told the Minutemen to stand guard or patrol or whatever it is that soldiers do to keep people from leaving someplace, and Cito and I moved north through the park to see how Curie was doing.

We found a hell of a fight; the Minutebot was in the same shape as the one at the south entrance, and multiple Minutemen were wounded but still fighting. The Pack had greater numbers up here, and we needed an edge.

“Get friends into treehouse!” Cito suddenly shouted and took off running toward an animal enclosure.

I didn’t have time to ponder. “Minutemen! Treehouse! Now!”

“I will navigate!” Curie said, and we headed into the hedge maze. The Pack took the retreat as an excuse to focus their fire on the Minutebot… until Cito came running, tailed by an enraged yao guai.

We watched from the treehouse as the mutated bear tore through the Pack members in its way, the Minutemen and Curie shooting from on high as Cito hurried into the maze. I made my way to meet him, “You got a knack for distractions.”

He shrugged, a bit out of breath, “But not so good at mazes. Cito follow?”

I led him back to the treehouse to catch the end of the show. A few of the Pack took off south, but I was confident the Minutemen I’d left there would take care of it. The rest of them were either shot or mauled to death. The last Pack member standing ran, a heavily wounded but no less angry yao guai in pursuit.

“Exit, pursued by a bear,” I chuckled.

Curie lost no time tending to the wounded, and I lost no time filling Cito in on what was going on. “The robots are going to stay here in the zoo, to help keep any raiders from finding out what happened here.”

Cito nodded, “Cito can wear animal mask, try to find outfit that fits. Look like Pack, fool others!”

I grinned, “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Anyone who walks into this place is gonna see the dead bodies pretty quickly.”

Curie gasped, “We cannot simply leave them! If your friend is living here, it is an unsanitary situation.”

“Un-san-itary?” Cito looked at me, confused.

“She means there’s a chance you could get sick from it. Dead bodies aren’t good for living next to… hey, what happened to the gatorclaw corpses?”

“Pack take skins and cook meat, put bones out to dry in sun. All bodies by Anaconda ride.” Cito looked pleased with himself as he said, “Cito can do the same to Pack bodies. Never go near ride, not get sick.”

A Minuteman put her hand up. “Sorry, Mr. Valentine? What the hell is a gatorclaw, and why is Grognak the Barbarian here?”

I told the story as Curie finished her work, and kept telling it as we rejoined the Minutemen at the south gate. Cito didn’t understand what all the fuss was about, but he was pleased that his new friends seemed impressed with him.

Well, the Minutemen had their orders, and I still had my part to play. I headed out of Safari Adventure and started toward Dry Rock Gulch, hoping for some sign of success for Hancock and Strong. I didn’t hear any fighting. I had to trust that was a good sign; if somehow they’d failed and an Operator spotted me poking around, they’d put two and two together real quick. We’d find out tomorrow if everything went according to plan.

As the sun set, Nuka-World’s lights came on. I hadn't seen a place lit up in so many colors since… heh, I guess I never have, but it touched on some of the old Nick's memories. Oh, Diamond City's lights are a sight, to be sure, but this was a whole new level. I don't know what it is about carnival lights at night, but for a brief moment, it sure was lovely.

Then I straightened my hat, lit a cigarette, and headed back into Nuka-Town.

Gage stood at his usual post. “And here I was, hoping you’d been smashed to pieces by a deathclaw or something.”

“Guess neither of us gets what we want,” I drawled.

“You missed a hell of a day," Gage bragged. "Overboss is doing great.”

“Glad I missed it.”

He stepped in front of me just as I was about to get on the lift. “Why the hell are you still here? Overboss doesn’t need you anymore. You don’t have to eat or sleep, you could take a long walk back to the Commonwealth anytime.”

I took a long drag, let the smoke billow, “I’m gonna stick around a bit, if it’s all the same to you.”

It wasn’t all the same to him, at all, but he shrugged and let me pass. “I don’t think you’re gonna feel that way when you get up there,” he grinned, and I’ve never wanted to hit something so badly. “Like I said. The Overboss is doing great.”

I went up. There was a suit of power armor on the patio painted quantum blue. It took me a moment to remember where I’d seen it before; it had been in the display case in the Galactic Zone. Which meant Holmes had been in the Galactic Zone at some point today. Today, when Deacon was supposed to be setting all the robots loose on the Disciples.

I rushed inside. Holmes was at a workbench, glaring at the schematics for a modified Fat Man launcher on the counter, along with three Nuka-Cola red mini-nukes complete with a ring of glowing blue.

Shit. “Where the hell did you get those?!”

“John Caleb-Bradberton’s office,” he muttered. “Damn, these things are going to be devastating. No practical use at all inside the…” he looked up, “Oh. You’re back.”

I frowned as I hurried over, voice low, “Holmes, the big day’s tomorrow and we got a hell of a lot of ground to cover, so start talking. What the hell happened today?”

He folded up the schematics, "William Black was causing a ruckus this morning because he found a holotape with a recording of the Disciple Dixie killing an Operator. The holotape also contained said Operator contemplating murder of a Disciple, but as William was quick to point out, thinking of doing something and doing it are two different things. Dixie broke the rules, and therefore should be punished. Nisha, to my mild surprise, agreed. Her only rule is to not get caught, and Dixie had."

"So Nisha killed her," I said.

He shook his head, "Nisha put it on me to choose the punishment. Enforcing Overboss rules." He wouldn't look at me, walking to another work bench where his armor was laid out, "So I assigned Dixie to reset the Gauntlet for tomorrow's show."

"You what?"

"I couldn't execute her, even if she is a psychopath." He checked and double-checked the condition of his gear, "Nisha appreciated the irony, William was satisfied, and Gage thought it was hilarious."

"You know the maintenance workers don't always make it out again."

"Far better it be her than one of the traders being sent in."

I sighed, "Then what happened?"

"Then I turned the park's power back on so that I could retrieve the power armor currently on the patio from the Galactic Zone. I'll be wearing it tomorrow in the arena."

"You notice anyone familiar in the Galactic Zone?"

He stopped fussing with his armor and looked at me, puzzled. "Such as?"

"Friend of ours with a fondness for sunglasses paid a visit, but I guess he arrived after you left."

Holmes's brow rose, voice hushed but no less incredulous, "Deacon is here?"

I nodded, "Along with others, but finish your day and I'll get you caught up with mine. Where'd you find the heavy weaponry?"

"I told you, John Caleb-Bradberton's office. The inventor of Nuka-Cola secured a contract from the military to develop weapons in exchange for eternal life. He did not anticipate eternal life would mean an existence as an animate head in a glass dome."

I stared at my partner a minute. "Sounds rough."

He smirked, "Yes, well, he begged me to end it, and I complied. Miss Petrovita wasn't pleased, but—"

"The dame with the Nuka obsession? How does she fit in?"

"The Cappy contest unlocked the office door."

"You've been keeping track of those damn clues this whole time?!"

He looked offended. "Of course I have."

If synths could get headaches, I probably would have had one. "Ok. Anything else I need to know about?"

"Gage thinks using the Gauntlet to pacify the masses is a fine idea at the moment, especially given that I said I would announce the new owners of Kiddie Kingdom after the show. In anticipation, he had me speak with an individual named Shank to start planning an expansion into the Commonwealth."

"An expansion that's never gonna happen."

"Assuming we manage to pull off the most ridiculously ill-planned invasion of a fortress in history," he grumbled.

"Hey, now, Preston's been working real hard to turn your message into a functional plan."

He breathed a sigh of relief, "Thank god. Please, tell me everything, we've so much still to do."

"Less than you think," I said. "You told me about your day, lemme tell you about mine."

I laid out everything that had happened, from finding the Minutemen that morning up to the present. He was thoughtful afterward, and asked, "I wonder what Preston plans for Mr. Oppenheimer's role to be?"

"Couldn't tell you," I shrugged. "All I know is that once most of Nuka-Town's raider population is watching the arena tomorrow, things are gonna happen real fast." I watched him stand there in thought, finger tapping the work bench. "Which means you should get some rest," I prompted.

He rolled his eyes, "How can I rest?"

I crossed my arms, "Well, there's the whole physical exhaustion thing. Add mental and emotional onto it, and the bigger question is how you manage to force yourself to stay standing."

"Practice."

"It was a rhetorical question," I drawled with a smile. "C'mon, Sherlock, you're gonna need to be at your best tomorrow, get some shut-eye."

He sighed, but headed for the bed. "We only have one chance at this, Nick."

"I know. We've got a hell of a team backing us up. We'll make it."

I wished I was as confident as I sounded.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 13

We decided to send Strong through the drain pipe first, followed by the two Minutemen, with Hancock and I bringing up the rear.

"Hey, Hancock?" I asked as we started moving, "Why were you down here in the first place?"

Hancock shrugged, "Sometimes a brother just needs a place to get high in peace."

I chuckled, "Lucky for Deacon you wanted some solitude."

The drain pipe led into a reactor room, just like Deacon had said. Strong hefted his sledgehammer, ready for a fight, but moved forward with as close to caution as I’ve seen from a super mutant. “Strong not hear anyone,” he grumbled. “Not smell anyone either. Raiders not here.”

“Not yet,” I said. “Fellas, let’s move in, see what this lab has in store, and most importantly, find the damn door.”

The lab was an impressive set-up, if you ignored the skeletons. According to the terminals, the lab’s purpose was a military project called Project Cobalt. The chemists that used to design soft drinks were put to work designing a new weapon payload, “sort of like nitroglycerin, but safer and with a much stronger yield.” Tweak it a little, and they got a soft drink out of it too. Go figure.

Anyway, after the bombs fell the team kept working until one committed suicide and one went a bit nuts and killed the other two… but before the last one died, he completed the project. Deacon hadn’t been exaggerating when he talked about blue-glowing grenades and mini-nukes. If this stuff was as powerful as the terminals made it seem, it was stuff we definitely didn’t want raiders getting their hands on.

“Hey, at least we’ve got some mini-nukes now,” Hancock said.

“Sorry, Mayor,” one of the Minutemen said, “but Colonel Garvey won’t use ‘em. Too much collateral damage.”

His fellow soldier spoke up, “We should still take them with us, just to keep them out of enemy hands.”

“Strong hear something,” the super mutant said from his position by the door.

“Shit, we’re outta time,” I grumbled. “Everyone get ready—”

“Strong smash raiders,” Strong swung his hammer back, ready to strike, “metal man and ghouls stay out of way.”

The two Operators that stepped through the door never knew what hit them. They certainly weren’t expecting a sledgehammer aimed at their unprotected heads.

"Ew," a Minuteman muttered.

"Too easy," Strong scoffed.

"You got the drop on ' em," I warned, "and we were lucky there were only two. Won't be the same on the other side of the door."

"Good! Strong want fight!"

He sure got it. The Operators wisely tried to keep their distance as the super mutant charged through the rest of the plant, but that's what the Minutemen were for. They took up positions under cover behind Strong as he moved, giving him ranged support with their muskets while Hancock and I spread out a bit to take advantage of Operator focus being on the big green distraction. It was going well at first, element of surprise and all that, but we were still outnumbered.

"We should fall back!" a Minuteman called from across the room, "Strong's moved too far ahead, we're too exposed!"

"You just gonna leave him?" Hancock growled.

"Look, I know he's an ally, but—" his comment was cut short by an Operator bashing him in the side of the head with the butt of a rifle. The Minuteman went down, the Operator aimed, I saw Hancock running to get in shotgun range… and a feral ghoul tackled the Operator to the floor.

Panicked cries arose from the Operators as a swarm of painted ferals attacked. Over the chaos I heard a showman proclaiming, "Stay close my friends! I'll keep you fighting!"

A blast of radiation sent my geiger counter ticking crazy for a moment. "Hancock! Tell Strong not to attack the ghouls!"

"What?!"

"Better chance of him listening to you than me!"

Hancock started running to the mutant, "Why am I telling him not to fight ferals?!"

"Because they're the goddamn cavalry!!" I checked on the injured Minuteman, hauling him a distance from the feral and Operator scrapping on the floor. The Operator lost, though the feral lost an arm in the process. I called to the other Minuteman, "Try not to hit the ferals!"

"Sure!" was the sarcastic reply, "Do my best!"

At least he was actually trying, but it was admittedly difficult to use a thing that would happily eat you to attack enemies. Running from ferals to lead them toward more Operators seemed to work, sort of, as did staying far away and shooting if you could get a shot that didn't risk hitting one of Oswald's friends. As complicated as the ferals made the fight for us, their presence sure as hell shortened the fight for the Operators. It wasn't long before the gunshots stopped… and a dozen ferals noticed the three ghouls, a super mutant, and one old synth standing together.

"Nick?" Hancock muttered, "I think the cavalry's about to turn on us."

Everyone aimed as the ferals started to charge, and Oswald ran between with his hands up at his friends, "Stop!" When they didn't, he switched to a harsh, threatening growl. The ferals hesitated. My geiger counter was doing cartwheels again, and from the suddenly energized looks on the faces of the ghouls with me, Oswald was emanating some pretty strong rads. Oswald gave another growl, and the ferals backed off.

“What glowing one do?” Strong grumbled, curious.

Oswald sighed heavily, “Told them no. They used to follow my orders easier. I think the other ferals in Bradberton were a bad influence.” He watched the remains of his friends walk away, his voice tight with grief, “Oh god, so many of them are gone now…”

“Oswald?” I carefully put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped a little, but turned to look at me. “Thanks for coming back. You and your friends turned the tide, right when we needed you.”

He took a deep breath, let it out slow. “Thank you.” He gestured to the ferals, anxious, “They'll get restless soon, let's not stay, just… let them roam. Please.”

I nodded, “You got it. Everyone back in the lab, lock the door behind us.”

Our little troop started moving. “Lab?” Oswald asked.

“Turns out, all that highly irradiated water you folks were living next to came from the reactor of a secret lab.”

He scoffed, “I knew it.”

“Drain pipe leads from here to Kiddie Kingdom, that’s where we’re headed.”

We made sure to grab all the weapon prototypes and schematics from the lab as we made our way out. Strong took point again, without being asked. Oswald had been eyeing him warily, “The big green one…”

“Never seen a super mutant before?”

“Super mutant?” Oswald shook his head, “No. The only things that ever attacked our home were raiders and wildlife. The sprayers and the Afflicted took care of them.”

“You lucked out. Super mutants are big, violent, and eat people. Have a weird habit of storing their raw meat in hanging bags. Strong's a little different than his brothers. Likes Shakespeare, though his interpretation is… unique.”

“Shakespeare.”

“Yep.”

“... that sounds insane. And kind of amazing. Mostly insane.”

I chuckled, and changed the subject. “So what made you join the party?”

"We were headed back to Kiddie Kingdom, but I saw a massive creature I'd never seen before dead in the lake behind the bottling plant. It looked like a horseshoe crab the size of a whale. I was curious, heard the fighting as we got close. When I saw a few 'ghouls' fighting raiders, I decided to help."

Hancock turned to Oswald, "Why'd you say 'ghouls' like that?"

Oswald got quiet. "We never called ourselves that, in the park. When the raider attacks started, we heard the word shouted among them. Ghouls. Ferals. I didn't realize that was just how others in the world all called people like us until recently."

Hancock blinked, "Wait, how long did you live in that amusement park?"

"Since the day the bombs fell."

"Holy shit. You never saw anyone from outside?"

"Safer that way."

Hancock laughed a little, "Brother, you been missing out."

"I doubt that," Oswald hesitated, "but I guess that's why I'm here. Rachel told me the world outside isn't as bad as we thought."

"This Rachel of yours make it?"

"No."

Hancock's face fell. "Shit," he sighed, "Sorry to hear that. Hey, you won't believe it for a long time, but she was right."

Oswald took a deep breath and nodded, "I hope so."

As we emerged from the drain pipe and made our way out of the tunnels, I said, "Oswald, meet Hancock, Mayor of Goodneighbor, town out east in what used to be Boston."

Hancock laughed, "Trust Nick Valentine to make sure we keep some fucking manners in the world."

Oswald turned to me, "Nick Valentine?"

"Pleased to meet you," I grinned. "Didn't get a chance to properly introduce myself before."

Oswald smiled, "Well, I did try to kill you on sight."

I chuckled, "Water under the bridge."

Strong and the Minutemen exited the tunnels ahead of us, so the camp was already buzzing as folks tried to get details from Strong and the Minutemen reported to their Colonel. We were headed toward the theater as Cait hurried over.

"Hancock! Made it back… what the hell?"

"C'mon Cait, really?" Hancock rolled his eyes.

The former cage fighter got defensive, "Never seen a glowin' ghoul in a top hat and fancy clothes, alright? Surprised me. No offense," she added in Oswald's direction.

"I'd be surprised too," he said graciously.

We continued on, Hancock and Cait chatting as we went. She wanted all the details of the fight, which he exaggerated, and which she called him on every time.

"Uh, Mr. Valentine?" Oswald started, trying to keep up while staring at the Minutemen preparations at the same time. "Is this the militia you told me about?"

"As many as could be gathered on short notice. We hadn't planned on using your old home as a base, just sort of worked out that way."

"When did the power come on?"

"Just earlier today. Quite the shock," I joked.

He was looking around, wistful. "Must have been. None of these people have ever seen an amusement park before. A working one, I mean."

We got inside the theater just in time to see Preston dismiss the two Minutemen ghouls. Deacon, MacCready, and Curie were standing with him on the stage. Preston noticed us coming, "Nick! I just heard about the mission. I take it this is the man you were telling me about? I hear his timing is impeccable."

We joined them onstage, "That's right. You've probably heard the announcements about his show being sold out."

"Once or twice," Preston said sarcastically with a chuckle. "Oswald the Outrageous?"

Oswald made an amused sound, "Ha. It's been a long time since I was called that. Oz is fine."

"Oz, this is Colonel Preston Garvey, second in command of the Minutemen," I said.

Preston smiled kindly, "Ready to help at a minute's notice."

"This is Curie," I continued, "scientist and chief medic, friendly mercenary Robert MacCready, and this is Deacon. Works for the Railroad."

"Railroad?" Oz asked.

"We help synths," Deacon said. "The new models that look like people mostly, though that's only because the older ones tend to shoot first." Deacon nodded my way with a smirk, "Not counting one-of-a-kind prototypes."

Oz shook his head and looked at me, "Synths?"

"I'll explain later," I said with a smile, "a lot of stuff happened in the two hundred years you and your friends were hiding out here. For now, we should focus on Nuka-World's raider problem."

Preston nodded, "With the bottling plant occupied by—"

"Oz's friends," Hancock interjected.

"Preston took the hint and continued, "That's one less park to worry about. We can't afford to lose the momentum. Safari Adventure is next, and we'll have to take out Dry Gulch and Galactic Zone in quick succession after that."

"Colonel, you cannot take all three without rest," Curie said. "There is bound to be injury, and you cannot risk mistakes born from exhaustion."

"I've got an idea for the Galactic Zone that'll keep the Disciples plenty busy without risking any Minutemen," I said, "but it'll require some disguise and a stealth boy will be useful." I looked at Deacon, "No radioactive water this time, promise."

"Already a plus," Deacon said. "What new and exciting danger am I exposing myself to this time?"

"Nuka-Cola branded robots, though honestly I think the Disciples might be worse."

"Huh." He shrugged and looked at MacCready, "Guess we're going shopping again."

"This is all grand," said Cait, "but what happens when raiders come poking their noses about?"

"They'll think the bottling plant was overrun by ferals," Preston looked at Oz apologetically, but continued, "and according to Nick there's no reason for them to come into this park because it hasn't been assigned yet—"

"You don't think they're gonna wonder how the feral-attacked corpses got bullet holes?"

"I'm hoping they won't stick around long enough to look that close. We don't have the luxury of time to prepare properly, or enough people for that matter." Preston was in command before the troops, even if none of the people he was talking to were actually under his command, but it was impressive nonetheless. Danse would be proud. "I'm going to split our forces into two groups; one for Safari Adventure, one for Dry Gulch. Deacon, MacCready, and Cait will head to the Galactic Zone. After the Galactic Zone is taken care of, Deacon and Cait will infiltrate the Nuka-Town market and be ready to take out the guards when the fighting starts before any traders get hurt. MacCready will go with them, but his job will be to scout out a sniping location for when the invasion starts."

"Which is gonna be when?" Hancock asked.

"Sometime tomorrow."

Deacon whistled, "Tight timetable."

"It's not ideal, but that's when the distraction will be in place." He laid out who was going where, and which Minutemen to take with us. "Oz? If you're willing, your help could be the edge we need."

Oz was doubtful, but willing. "What are you planning?"

"I've got it all mapped out over here, I'll explain. The rest of you, assemble your teams."

Hancock, Deacon, and MacCready gave mock salutes, Cait gave him the finger, and Curie and I ushered the unruly lot out of the theater.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 12

"I'm not happy about this," Preston frowned.

MacCready had justified his claim to be the best shot caps can buy. Deacon had taken the dead Operator's clothes, hid the body, and was now out of sight within the bottling plant. Preston and I were headed back into the theater.

"Deacon's one of the best spies you could hope for, he'll be fine," I said, half to convince myself. I'd drilled Deacon on everything I knew about the Operators, but that wasn't much.

"I hope you're right," Preston said. "The last thing this mission needs are surprises—"

"Colonel!" A panicked Minuteman came running from outside, "The rides are moving!"

"They're what??" Preston demanded as we hurried back out into the park.

Sure enough, the ferris wheel was slowly turning, the teacup ride was spinning, everything that could move was moving as if it had never stopped, though I imagine a bit creakier than two hundred years ago. Honestly, I was a little impressed that nothing went spinning off into oblivion.

"Guess Chip got his wish," I chuckled.

"Who?" Preston asked.

"Local handyman, mentioned to Holmes how much he'd like to see the park powered up properly again. Guess Holmes made it happen. Sure as hell wasn't the raiders."

"But why now?"

I shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine. I think I've been away from Nuka-Town long enough, I should check in with Holmes."

"Of course," Preston nodded. "Oh, before you go, how far from the Pack's camp in Nuka-Town is the arena?"

"Amphitheater's right across from the Cola-Cars, but there's a marketplace in the way. Why?"

"I figure we'll come in through the entrance by Fizztop Mountain, head south to the Parlor, then hit the Amphitheater. By then everyone in the Cola-Cars arena will hear the fighting, hopefully we'll draw them out. The tricky part will be keeping the fighting out of the marketplace."

"And why are the raiders going to be in the arena?" I drawled. "That's the end of their sadistic Gauntlet, Holmes isn't…" I stopped, and Preston kept his face neutral. "That's the big distraction?" I demanded. "Holmes is gonna open the Gauntlet?"

"That's the plan," Preston said, terse.

"Something tells me you don't like the plan."

Preston crossed his arms, "Unfortunately, I didn't have a better one. The guy who delivered the General's message, Harvey, also gave us a description of the traps inside, but said that could change."

I nodded, "And probably will. We only made it through by moving slow and stealthy, disarming every trap we spotted, and even then there were too many close calls."

"That's why I don't like the plan," Preston huffed. "Everything hinges on one person not dying inside of a death trap."

I shook my head, "Something doesn't add up. Why would Holmes send someone through that thing?"

"It's certain to pull a large number of raiders out of the town, into one isolated area." Preston sighed, "The plan makes sense, it'll be easier for the Minutemen to take control of the raider bases if half of them are off watching some blood sport. I just wish there was another way to keep everyone distracted."

"Hm. I hate it just as much as you do, but these raiders despise each other at the best of times. The only reason they're willing to work together at all is the promise of more power, violence, and caps. Getting them to all look in the same direction takes… well, a hell of a show."

"They'll definitely get that," Preston smirked, still a bit bitter.

"This invasion of Nuka-Town of yours going to happen before or after you take the rest of the parks?"

He sighed again, frustrated, "That's the other thing. When we got the General's message, I scrambled to gather as many Minutemen as I could, as fast as I could, but still kept it a small enough force that we could travel quickly without drawing too much attention. That means we can't afford to lose anyone before the big fight, but I can't just leave a bunch of raiders in the other parks ready to swoop in and flank us."

"That's a predicament."

He laughed, "No shit!"

I chuckled, "Sorry I can't be more helpful. Battle plans aren't exactly my forte."

"You've been a huge help, Nick," he said, earnest, "Your information is the only reason this insane mission might be pulled off successfully."

"Don't sell yourself short," I smiled. "There's no rescue without rescuers."

Preston scoffed, but he was smiling.

"There are always raiders on guard inside the marketplace," I thought out loud. "If none of the Minutemen go inside the market, the raiders might come out."

"Or they'll just shoot us from the doors."

"So you need a couple people on the inside, someone who can take the raiders out quick when they start shooting."

"Deacon?"

I shrugged, "Sure, maybe Cait could go with, pretend to be tourists looking to spend some caps. Unless you got some Minutemen with acting skills?"

He shook his head, "Not that I know of, but it's not like I know every soldier's personal interests."

"MacCready could certainly play the part—"

"I need him up on the tallest building we can find, taking out as many as he can."

"Fair enough. Well, whenever Deacon comes back from his infiltration, you can ask what he thinks of the idea. I'll be back tomorrow morning, unless Holmes sends me back here sooner."

I made my way out, taking a moment to marvel at how different the place looked with everything moving. Still eerie, no people around, but you could picture what it must have been like in its heyday. It was kinda nice, until I heard Hancock shouting for help from the tunnels.

"Radaway! Hey! I need some fucking Radaway down here!!"

For a moment I actually wondered why a ghoul would need Radaway before realizing what had happened. I ran over to the closest entrance in time to see Hancock exit, hauling Deacon over his shoulders. “Shit,” I swore and reached for him.

“I got him, took a buffout,” Hancock protested, moving fast, “just gotta get him to Curie.”

“Hang on a sec, I got something better than Radaway.” I took a bottle of X-111 out of my pocket, “This stuff’s stronger, Holmes helped a scientist in the Brotherhood cook it up, way back.”

Hancock carefully put Deacon down. The spy looked… well, like he was dying of radiation poisoning. “You just keep a bottle of this shit on you all the time?” Hancock asked as I gave Deacon the medicine.

“After seeing my partner drink from a radioactive stream once, I started carrying it with me everywhere.”

“Holmes did what?”

“It was in Far Harbor, he needed to infiltrate the Children of Atom.”

Deacon made a sound somewhere between a cough and a laugh, “Detective’s a special kind of crazy.”

“Don’t I know it,” I chuckled. “How’re you feeling?”

“Less like dying, so that’s good?”

“Hancock, hurry on over to Curie and grab some stimpaks, will ya’?” Hancock nodded and hurried on. I shook my head with a sigh, “Speaking of special kinds of crazy, I’m guessing you went for a swim?”

“No swimming,” Deacon groaned, “just… wading through a reactor pool and down the much longer than expected drainpipe. Opened the grate, we can get in now. So you’re welcome.”

I frowned. “Why do we need to get in?”

Curie arrived, gently scolded Deacon as she fussed over him, and assured him he’d be feeling better soon. Preston and Hancock were close behind, along with a crowd of curious Minutemen and allies.

“What happened?” Preston asked, genuinely concerned.

"All that nuclear waste in the tunnels is coming from a secret lab in the bottling plant where the soft drink inventors were making weapons for the military," Deacon said, sounding stronger by the second. "And they succeeded. The lab was inaccessible until the power came on. We now have a very limited amount of time to make sure no Operators figure out how to open the door and gain access to blue glowing grenades and mini-nukes."

“You got out through the drain pipe,” I filled in the blanks, “and now that’s how we’re going to get in and take the Operators by surprise.”

“That was the plan.”

“Nick,” Preston said, all soldierly this time, “I know you need to get back to Holmes sooner rather than later, but I need your help on this. I want to send through Strong, Mayor Hancock, the two Minutemen with me who are ghouls, and you. It’s a small force, but a capable one, and most importantly none of you will have to worry about the rads taking you down before you get to the fight.”

I nodded, "I get it. Let's get a move on."

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 11

I didn’t stick around the zoo for long, making my way back to Nuka-Town. I hated the idea of Holmes on his own, but I had to grudgingly admit that Gage would probably do his best to keep Holmes alive since his own skin depended on it. I noticed the Operators had lost no time setting up shop in the World of Refreshment as I passed by. The gunfire coming from behind the bottling plant suggested we must not have cleared out all the mirelurks after all. What a shame.

I decided to duck into Kiddie Kingdom, see if there was any sign of our rescue party showing up yet. The park was quiet, dead ferals still lying where they had fallen. I meandered through the rides, taking my time. I didn’t know how much time Holmes would need to sort out the mess in Nuka-Town, and I didn’t want any soldiers that might have been keeping watch getting alarmed. Slow and steady seemed the way to go. Also seemed like I was alone. I lit a cigarette, and had the idea to try taking a look from the roof of King Cola’s Castle. Maybe I could spot the soldiers before they got here, get a sense of where they were.

As I neared the theater's entrance, something in a tower window caught my eye. It looked suspiciously like a tricorn hat, suddenly hidden again. I headed over, cautiously stepping inside the tower with a hand on my gun, just in case this was some sort of trick.

For once, I didn't need to worry.

"Mr. Valentine?" a voice softly called from the second floor.

"In the synthetic flesh. It just us in here?"

"Yes, sir," the Minuteman hurried down from his post and I relaxed. "I'm glad to see you're ok, Mr. Valentine."

I recognized the guy from Sanctuary, I'd saved him and a settler from a yao guai once. "Private Brown, right?"

"Corporal, now," he smiled, clearly proud. "Colonel Garvey will be glad to see you, the General's instructions were, um. Vague?"

"Ha, I bet. He in the theater?"

Brown nodded, "Yes sir, if you go—"

"I've been inside before, Holmes and I are responsible for the dead ferals lying around."

He blinked, "… all of them?"

I shrugged, "Any wearing clown makeup, anyway."

"Clown…? Oh, the stuff that looks like paint on their faces?"

"Yep. Clowns were a type of entertainment way back in the day, tried to make families laugh. Weren't any ghouls back then, of course."

Brown shuddered, "Yeah, I can't imagine what you're talking about."

I chuckled, "Probably for the best. Always found 'em unsettling, myself. I'll let you get back to being a watchman."

"Wait, you can go through here," he hurried over to a door and knocked before opening a crack, "Jackson, Mr. Valentine's here, let him—"

"Valentine!" A woman in Minutemen uniform opened the door and stuck her head through to look at me, "Well damn," she grinned. "Good to see you sir, come on through. You'll get to the Colonel faster this way."

The door connected the tower to the backstage area of the theater. I followed Jackson with relief. “You folks got a real thing for castles, don’t you?”

She smirked, "Colonel took it as a good sign when we spotted this place on our way in."

Jackson opened the door to a dressing room turned into a command center, and there in the middle stood Preston Garvey talking with someone I never would have expected.

"MacCready?!"

"Hey, Valentine," the merc said with a grin. "Heard you and Holmes needed a rescue."

"I'm glad you're here, Nick," Preston said, "and unharmed. We were just trying to figure out how to get in touch with the General."

"Good thing I decided to go for a walk," I joked. "When did you get here?"

"Before dawn this morning," Preston said.

Holmes’s instinct to take out the Gunners right away had been spot on. I turned to MacCready, "Who's watching Duncan while you're here?"

"He's staying at your place with Shaun. Codsworth and Piper are keeping eyes on them."

"I was sure surprised to see him running behind us as we moved out of Sanctuary," Preston said with a grin.

"Hey, I owe Holmes everything," MacCready protested. "Without him, the Gunners would still be harassing me, and my son would probably be dead. You can't put out a call to arms to rescue him without me doing something."

"We appreciate it," I said.

"Curie insisted on coming too," Preston said, "since we had no idea if Holmes would need medical attention or not. We've got a handful of Minutebots with us, in addition to the troops."

"You're still outnumbered," I warned.

"Sure," a voice said behind me, "but wait til the raiders see the super mutant on our side."

I spun around and saw a bald man in a Minuteman uniform, plus a pair of sunglasses. "Deacon?!"

"I still don't know where he got that uniform," Preston grumbled.

"Any other folks I know joining the party?" I was incredulous.

"Deacon already mentioned Strong," Preston shrugged. "Cait and Hancock are around somewhere."

"How the hell did Holmes make friends with a super mutant, anyway?" MacCready asked.

"Long story," Preston and I said in unison. I followed up, "As flattered as I am and I know Holmes will be, we're still outnumbered. By a lot. Each park has a small settlement's worth of raiders inside, and they've all got their own specialties."

Preston nodded, "Which is one reason why I'm glad you're here, Nick. Tell me everything you know about this place."

I gave them the full story, everything about the parks, how they were laid out, the gangs and their leaders, the traders in slave collars. After a while, I realized who was missing from the room. "Say, where's Danse?"

"The General had a mission for him," Preston said, "and gave orders that no one else was to know about it."

I scoffed, "He would. So, ideas for a plan?"

"The parks are far enough from each other that we might be able to keep the fighting in each one isolated, if we attack quickly and keep everyone else distracted from what's going on. The problem is that we don't have enough people to take them all simultaneously, and we don't have enough time to go one by one and risk the raiders becoming alarmed."

I sighed, "Well, for what it's worth, there's a guy inside Safari Adventure that'll lend a hand. Name's Cito, raised by gorillas, mean swing with a sledgehammer."

The three of them were skeptical, understandably. “Gorillas?” asked Preston.

I shrugged, “It’s a zoo.”

Deacon put his hand up, “I want to meet this person.”

“Oh,” I remembered, “one other thing; if you happen to see a bunch of ferals with paint on their faces in the company of a glowing ghoul in a tux and top hat, don’t shoot ‘em.”

“You sure you don’t have any circuits crossed?” MacCready asked.

I rolled my eyes, "I know how it sounds. When the bombs fell, the Kiddie Kingdom staff made a shelter out of the employee tunnels. They all turned ghoul, and then slowly they all went feral, except one."

"Top hat guy," Deacon said.

"Exactly. His name's Oswald, used to be a magician. Holmes and I convinced him to leave town with his, uh, friends. I don't know if he'll show up here or not. If he does, I'd rather he not get shot by a panicked Minuteman."

"I'll let everyone know," Preston nodded, "just in case. How far do those tunnels you mentioned reach?"

"Easier to show you," I said, and started walking.

I saw quite a few familiar faces as I went through the theater-turned-camp. Curie was happy to see me, wanted a full report on Holmes’s health. Cait was taking a turn on watch duty, shouted a mildly vulgar hello that was probably her version of friendly. Strong and Hancock were talking, sort of. Hancock was asking questions and Strong was answering, anyway. The gist I picked up was that Strong was less here to save Holmes, and more here to fight raiders. “Raiders capture leader, not kill. Raiders must be strong but stupid. Strong will kill them, eat their flesh and find milk!” Which still worked out positive for us in the long run, so I wasn’t complaining. The Minutebots Preston had mentioned sat in standby mode for now; imagine an armored Mr. Handy with gatling guns for arms and you get the general idea.

I led Preston, Deacon, and MacCready through the tunnels. Curie followed, curious as always. All of them were impressed with the set up, until we got to the water supply.

“You think they went ghoul before or after the water turned green?” MacCready quipped.

“Before,” I muttered. “Storm blew in from the east, fallout from the bomb hitting Boston.”

“Sirs,” Curie spoke up, “this level of radiation? This is to be expected as waste from a nuclear reactor, not simply a polluted water supply.”

“Reactor?” Deacon was skeptical, “In an amusement park?”

Then it hit me. “Nuka-Quantum has a radioactive isotope, that’s why it glows. I’ll bet that pipe leads to the bottling plant.”

It was Preston’s turn to be skeptical, “A bottling plant run by a reactor? Seems a little extreme.”

“What if it’s not just a bottling plant?” I reasoned it out, “They had to do the research somewhere. Some of the terminals around the park mention a thing called Project Cobalt, some sort of private contract that used up a whole hell of a lot of the park’s resources and manpower. Something like that might need its own private power supply, keep it self-contained.”

Deacon raised a hand, “So what I’m hearing is that we need to get into the bottling plant.”

I nodded, “World of Refreshment and the plant connected to it are currently occupied by the Operators. Real slick, well dressed, care about caps more than anything.”

“Cool. Hey, MacCready, wanna help me do some shopping?”

MacCready crossed his arms, “You want me to snipe a guy so you can steal his clothes?”

“Pretty much.”

MacCready shrugged, “Sure, I can do that.”

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 10

Holmes was asleep in the Overboss quarters when I got back to Nuka-Town late that night. His shirt was off, a bandage around his arm and another on the opposite shoulder. I took off my coat and carefully sat next to him. He jumped awake.

"Easy, partner, it's just me," I said softly.

"Valentine," he sighed in relief.

"Didn't mean to wake you."

"Honestly, I'm surprised I was even asleep. My body must be more exhausted than I thought."

"Pushing yourself too hard again?"

"Pushing myself exactly as hard as necessary to get out of here alive."

I smiled a little at that. "How's our Gunner problem?"

"Eliminated." It seemed like he should be happier about that than he was. "These raiders, Valentine," he shook his head with a sigh. "We've seen Gage fight, of course, but he brought a selection of the three gangs. When directed to work together, they are a terrifying force. I'm starting to wonder if this plan will be successful."

"I'm gonna tell Danse you doubted his troops," I teased.

Holmes scoffed and laughed a little, "Please don't, he'd be so offended. And I don't doubt them, I simply…" he trailed off.

"Don't want anyone to die?" I prompted.

"I am fully aware this operation will require that some soldiers die," he frowned.

"I know you are. Doesn't mean you have to like it. You don't want anyone sacrificing themselves for you, but you need them to in order to get out." I shrugged, "It's a rotten deal. But at least you can take comfort knowing the folks coming to help are doing it because they think you're worth it."

He rolled his eyes.

"Hey," I said, grabbing his hand so he'd look at me, "don't let the fact that I love you fool you into thinking I'm only being nice."

He breathed slowly a couple times, nodded, and resettled under the blanket. "Join me?"

"Sure," I smiled. I settled behind him, arm across his chest and pulled him close.

"Oh, I forgot," he muttered sleepily, "we have to pretend to have had a fight."

"That how you justified me being off somewhere else?"

"Mmhm. I sent you off on an errand so I could have some space."

"Got it. Glad to see we made up."

He chuckled, laced his fingers with mine, and drifted off.

I got out of bed when I heard the lift moving early in the morning. So far none of the raiders knew the full extent of Holmes and my relationship, and we wanted to keep it that way. So when Gage barged in, he saw me standing in the corner with a cigarette and Holmes instantly up and alert in the bed.

"We got a problem," Gage said.

Holmes armored up as fast as he could and followed Gage down the lift. It was easy to hear what the trouble was; William Black was shouting at the Disciples guard next door.

“Listen, bitch, I’ve got proof one of yours broke the fucking rules. Either you let me in to settle this with Nisha, or we can get the Overboss involved!”

“Oooh, boss’s pet gang thinks they can just call daddy when they need help?” The guard scoffed, “Don’t get your panties in a twist, I’ll ask Nisha if she wants to deal with your bullshit. Stay put.”

The guard went inside. Black and the two Operators with him looked like they were seriously considering barging in without an invitation. Holmes turned to me, gruff, “Why don’t you go on safari while I deal with this mess?”

I was surprised a moment before I remembered we were supposed to be fighting. “Yeah,” I drawled, “sure. Be looking at gorillas either way.”

He hid his smirk at the last minute, the subtlest hint of apology on his face before he turned back to his Overboss role. From the cocky look on Gage’s face, Holmes had played the role well yesterday. I hated to leave him, but I figured one of us had to take care of preparations while he kept the raiders focused somewhere else. So, I made my way to Safari Adventure, to check in with the local gorilla population.

Though I hated to admit it, The Pack had done ok by Cito and his family. Seemed like Mason’s promise to leave them be held true. What was worse, was that Cito liked ‘em.

“Cito like friends with funny outfits!” he told me as we sat on the floor of his family’s exhibit. Uh, home. “They are nice to Cito and Cito family.”

I sighed. “Well, I’m glad they’ve been nice to you. But, uh, some ‘new friends’ will be coming by here soon, and they won’t get along with the folks in funny outfits.”

Cito frowned. “Why new friends fight funny friends? You friends with enemy of friend? Why?”

“This is hard to explain, pal…” I started, but then I realized I was making the same mistake I’d made with Mason. Folks are often smarter than they look. Hell, Cito had already proven he absorbed information like a sponge, he just didn’t know what to do with it. “Holmes and I were forced to come here by the folks with the funny outfits,” I explained. “They call themselves The Pack, does that sound familiar?”

Cito nodded, “Cito thinks this is strange and often forgets. One time one of them said their alpha was in another place, but Cito does not understand how alpha can lead when he is not with pack.” Cito chuckled, clearly amused. “Funny outfits, funny ideas.”

“You got a point,” I grinned, “but it’s true, the man who leads them, their ‘alpha,’ lives in a place called Nuka-Town. It’s another part of the park, not far from this zoo. Nuka-Town has other, uh, packs. Sometimes humans form groups with other humans called ‘gangs.’ There are three gangs in Nuka-World. The Pack, the funny ones, are one gang.”

Cito considered this seriously for a moment. “Pack is gang. There are other gangs.”

“Right. Now, the gangs tricked Holmes and I into coming to Nuka-World. Holmes and I don’t want to be here, working for them. We were tricked, and they won't let us go home to our family.”

Cito was surprised. “You have family?”

“Holmes is my family,” I nodded. “We have a son, in a place far away from here.”

That got through. I guess after being raised by gorillas, the idea of a machine being family isn't too strange. “Pack and other gangs will not let you see son?”

“That’s right.”

“Why?” he growled, glancing at the door like he was ready to start fighting right then and there.

“They want Holmes to be their, uh, alpha. They want to do whatever they want, and they don’t care about hurting people to get it.”

Cito huffed, confused, “Pack is not mean to Cito or Cito family.”

“Holmes told the Pack’s alpha to make sure no one hurt you.”

Cito scowled. He was quiet a moment. I let him think. “New friends coming,” he said, “they are real friends?”

I nodded, “That’s right. They’re called The Minutemen.”

“Gang?”

I stifled a laugh, “Uh, no. It’s a group of humans, but they’re… they want to help people, instead of hurt people. Holmes is the leader. They’re coming to rescue us, to take us home.”

“And gangs will fight Min-ut-men.”

“That’s right.”

Cito nodded, his mind made up, “Cito will help.”

I paused, “Wait. I came to tell you this to keep your family safe, not—”

“Holmes and Valentine are friends of Cito,” he stood, “Cito will help friends go home to son.”

He hauled me up to my feet by the arm, fast. “Whoa! Hey, now—”

“Valentine is old, needs better…” he gestured to his knees and moved his elbow.

“Joints,” I smirked, “and I’ll have you know I’ve recently had a tune-up. I’m not helpless just because I’m old… how’d you know I'm old?”

He gestured to his face, “Much damage. Old, or very much fighting.”

“Bit of both, actually.”

He grinned, “Cito still right. And Cito help!”

I straightened my hat and shook my head, “Guess there’s no talking you out of it. Just be careful, ok? Don’t help if it’s going to get you or any of your family killed.”

Cito nodded, “Cito can fight smart, not just strong.”

I smiled, “I don’t doubt it.”

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 9

The World of Refreshment was a Nuka-Cola manufacturing plant with a guided tour along a river of Nuka-Cola Quantum. The ancient speaker system was still narrating the history of the company, even two-hundred years after its destruction. Of course, blue glowing mirelurks weren’t part of the tour back then.

“I think I like these better without the glow,” I grumbled as I punched aside a claw.

“Easier to see in the dark,” Gage said as he unloaded into one’s underbelly. “God, I hate these stupid shells.”

“You go for long walks in the dark along the water often?” I fired into the ‘lurk’s face, killing it.

“Just sayin’ it’s a benefit,” he spat back before finishing off his own opponent.

We both rushed over to Holmes, who had just dispatched the third mirelurk. He was drenched, must have been knocked under the water at some point, but he just gestured that we move on. The place was crawling with mirelurks of all sorts, and inside the plant were robots still on guard duty. It was a bit of a slog to clear the place out, but at least it was straightforward without any surprises. Except for the dead Gunners.

According to a holotape found near the bodies, they were part of a recon team that tried to secure the plant and were overrun by the mirelurks when they breached a nest. The tape indicated there was a camp somewhere near the park grounds, which annoyed Gage quite a bit.

“A Gunner camp?” he scoffed, skeptical. “It sure as shit ain’t inside the park, which means it’s gotta be either somewhere in Bradberton north of here, or on the overpass to the west.”

Holmes hoisted a flag for the Operators, and said we should find the Gunners sooner rather than later. Given that they would have come from the west, we checked out the overpass first. The first glimpse of a guard was all Holmes needed. "Gage, I want that Gunner camp taken out. Gather however many raiders you think sufficient, a mix of gangs. We'll attack tonight."

The raider grinned, "Done and done. Good to see you show a little initiative."

Holmes didn't comment. I kept my mouth shut as we went back to Nuka-Town. Gage went to assemble a strike team, and I followed Holmes up to the room.

"I'm going to have to fight the Gunners without your assistance, I'm afraid," he said as he changed clothes.

"Like hell you will."

"Nick. The Gunners must be removed, or they will be an obstacle to the troops hopefully on their way."

I stared, everything clicking. "You sent Harvey to summon the Minutemen. They're coming over land, instead of the train."

"Just as the Gunners must have," he nodded. "The Gunners starting a fight with an invading force is the last thing we need, it would ruin everything. The fact that Gage didn't even know the Gunners have a base near the park means it will work as an access point, but only if everything stays quiet."

"Makes sense. Now why aren't I making sure a Gunner doesn't kill you?"

"I need you to find someone. His help will be useful, if he's willing to give it."

My brow rose, "Oh? And who's this mysterious assistant?"

He quirked a smile. "An appropriate turn of phrase, given he's a magician. I only hope he and his friends haven't gone far."

I stared at him. "You can't be serious."

He was, in fact, very serious. While Holmes was doing his best impression of a raider boss against the Gunners on the overpass, I was headed north to Bradberton. The tiny town was built to house Nuka-World employees and shorten their commute. I hoped that it would have been the first place Oswald would look for his missing girlfriend, and that he’d still be around. It was a long shot, but it was the best guess I had. I was able to sneak past most of the ferals I saw wandering around, though a couple took me by surprise. Fortunately, none of the ones I had to fight had any sign of clown make-up on them.

I found Oswald. Didn’t take long to realize why he hadn’t moved on.

“Oswald,” I whispered, creeping forward. He was on his knees on the floor of a wrecked house, looked like he’d been that way for a while. A couple ferals wandered nearby, and I tried to hunker down behind a piece of remaining wall. That was when I finally noticed the ghoul dead on the ground with a gun in her hand and a hole in her chest.

“Oh, no,” I sighed.

“She couldn’t find a cure,” he growled. “Ghouls… just go feral eventually.” I could hear how much he hated those words. “She felt it. It was going to take her, and she…” his voice stopped with a sob.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, sincere.

“Your friend was right. I was a naive idiot, believing in a fairy tale.”

“Hey,” I cautioned, “you were a man in love, believing in her. Don’t ruin that now. You think she’d want you here like this?”

“It doesn’t matter. We go feral eventually. There is no cure.”

“Not yet.”

He spun around, his green glow flashing angrily, “Don’t patronize me!”

“I’m not, friend. I know plenty of ghouls that have lived as long as you have, but you know what? Not a single one of them glows. Every glowing ghoul I’ve ever met has tried to eat me, except you. No one knows why ghouls go feral. You haven’t. You could still make a difference, find out why, perform a miracle. Goodness knows the world could use a few.”

He looked away. “Why are you here?”

I sighed and got to business, “We could use your help. Holmes is trying to get rid of the raiders in Nuka-World. He wants to turn it over to the traders, like it used to be. The Minutemen are coming from the east— I know you don’t know who that is, but think of them as a sort of militia. A bunch of people trying to change the Commonwealth for the better, and Holmes is in charge. The plan is for the Minutemen to set up base in Kiddie Kingdom, and attack from the park while everyone’s distracted. If there’s anything you could do to help us…” I sighed. I wasn’t getting any response, not that I expected any. He had years of grieving to do. “Well, you know where to find us.”

I started to leave, but stopped. “There’s a collection of scientists,” I slowly offered, “some of the best minds around. It’s called the Minutemen Research Center, it’s in Covenant now, a settlement west of… anyway, if anyone could help find out why ghouls go feral, it’d be them.”

I carefully made my way out of the house. As I moved, I heard a holotape quietly play. I was able to make out the last few words, “You can still make a life out there. It's not all as bad as we thought. I love you, Oz.”

I hoped he would believe her.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 8

In the morning, a pair of animal-headed watchdogs near the lift prompted a change of plans. Seemed like the Pack were getting anxious to see which park would be theirs, so instead of the bottling plant as planned, Holmes, Gage, and I headed for Safari Adventure.

Back in the day, Safari Adventure was advertised to have over a hundred different animal species on display, with nature-themed activities like a hedge maze and a gigantic treehouse for kids. The hedge maze and treehouse were still standing, but I didn't hold out much hope for the wildlife. I had second thoughts when I saw a man in a more realistic Grognak the Barbarian costume fighting what looked like a man-sized green deathclaw.

I say more realistic, but what I mean is his bracers and boots looked like they could withstand a chomp, and the breechcloth was made of real brown furry hide instead of colorful. He was still shirtless, pantsless, and fighting a humanoid lizard with a sledgehammer. Holmes and I didn’t waste time getting involved. Gage was definitely happier to have something to shoot than helping a person, but it worked out in the end. The reptile was dead, the man was alive and only slightly injured, and… well, quite the character.

“You kill monster!” He demanded, “You friend?”

Holmes, Gage, and I all looked at each other with a similar expression. Holmes nodded and said, “I hope so.”

The fella smiled, “Good. Cito happy to have strong friends. You kill monster, monster hurt Cito and Cito family.”

“Why are you talking like that?” Gage asked, exasperated.

Cito shrugged sadly, “Cito family not talk. Cito not talk to other man in long time.” He looked at me, “Not see man like you ever.”

“I’m friendly, don’t worry,” I said.

“Cito not worried, just not see Metal Man before. New thing.”

“That’s a refreshing reaction,” I muttered with a small smile.

Holmes tried to move us along, “Well, you don’t have to worry about the monster anymore, Cito.”

Cito strongly disagreed. “No! Many more monster. No stop. Cito kill monster. New monster come. Cito kill monster again. New monster come again.”

“We get it, they keep coming,” Gage grumbled.

“Monsters not stop,” Cito persisted. “Help Cito stop monsters?”

“I knew this would be a pain in the ass,” Gage grumbled.

Cito was confused. “Not doctor, but maybe find medicine for—”

“He’s not serious,” Holmes interrupted. “Of course we’ll help.”

Cito was delighted. “New friends follow Cito!”

It was no surprise when Cito led us to the primate house, but we were still a little shocked to see him calming his alarmed, uh, family with gorilla sounds. “No worry, they not hurt you,” he assured us. “You friend Cito mean you friend family.”

“Are you kidding me?” Gage started, but I talked over him.

“How’d you end up being raised by gorillas, Cito?”

“First family killed when Cito very small,” Cito said sadly. “First family look like Cito. Cito not die, just walk and walk. Find zoo place. Find new family.” He gestured to the gorillas, “New family give Cito food, water, keep Cito safe. Now Cito big and strong, help family fight monsters. New friends help Cito.”

“We’re going to try,” Holmes said. “Do you know where the monsters are coming from?”

Cito nodded, and told us a story about a "wrinkly man" (what we recognized as a ghoul) who stumbled into the primate house one day, wounded. The ghoul claimed to have created the monsters, and apologized. He gave Cito a holotape before he died, promising it would stop the monsters. Cito of course had no way to access the data, but held onto it after he buried the ghoul.

He handed the tape to Holmes, "Now give shiny thing new friend. Help Cito."

"It’s a start," Holmes muttered, and played the tape on his Pip-Boy.

"This is Dr. Darren McDermot, last known survivor-*cough*- at the Safari Adventure Replication Facility. This is my final recording. I've done something horrible... the thing I created... the thing I called the Gatorclaw-*cough*-... they must be destroyed. They can't be tamed, they can't be controlled-*cough*- their sheer ferocity is like nothing I've ever seen. And now the Nuka-Gen Rep-*cough*- Replicator is out of control. It's producing them at an alarming rate. Please, somebody. Anybody! Find my passcode, or Dr. Hein's. Shut down the Replicator before it's-*cough*- before it's too late. And if this recording should reach Dr. Hein. Please tell him… to forgive me."

Holmes made a considering sound, "It seems the gatorclaws, or monsters, are coming from an animal cloning facility somewhere beneath Safari Adventure."

Cito was hopeful, "Shiny thing help new friend?"

Holmes nodded, "Yes, it was very helpful. We just need to find the cloning facility."

"Cito have idea!" Our host was excited, almost bouncing on the balls of his feet, "Cito see Wrinkly Man come from Big Triangle House long time ago. Go to Big Triangle House. Find," he concentrated on the new words, "clo-ning fa-cil-ity. Stop Monsters. Cito come with new friend. Cito help!"

Gage snorted, "If you don't mind being gator bait, sure, tag along."

Cito suddenly focused on Gage with a smile more in line with a tiger than an ape. "Cito not bait. Cito hook."

Holmes laughed. Gage scowled for a moment, but huffed and decided to go back to ignoring everyone. That was just fine with me.

The "big triangle house" turned out to be the park's Welcome Center. There was a locked door of the sort that neither Holmes nor I could pick; we needed the passcode Dr. McDermot mentioned in his tape. I checked the employee terminal, hoping for a hint. What I found was a two-hundred year old ransom note for a kidnapped scientist by some save-the-animals organization. Bad timing on their part, what with nuclear armageddon happening the same day.

"A Dr. Hein was being held at something called an Angry Anaconda?" I reported with a questioning look at Cito.

And sure enough, he had the answer. I figured he would. "Oh! Maybe doctor under giant metal snake!"

"Giant metal snake," Gage sighed, "Of course."

Cito was amused, "New friend funny. How not see giant metal snake? It big... what word? Ride? Ride like big snake. Cito see from everywhere. Very big. Very snakey." He illustrated this with a wavy hand movement.

“Oh yeah, because what this place needed was another friggin' roller coaster,” Gage grumbled.

"It up hill behind zoo,” Cito was unfazed. “Maybe Doctor Man there?"

"Excellent, Cito," Holmes said. "Let's head there immediately."

"How did you know an anaconda was a kind of snake, Cito?" I asked.

"Cito try learn words from zoo. Lots of words in zoo. Words and pictures. Cito see an-a-con-da in house with snakes."

"Snake house, huh?" Gage commented, "Now that's a place I could've gotten into back in the day."

"They'd never let you leave," I joked. "Mistake you for part of the exhibit."

We found the remains of Dr. Hein at the roller coaster construction site, along with his passcode. We were getting pretty good at taking down gatorclaws by then, and all of us were ready to never have to fight another one again.

We carefully made our way inside the cloning facility, moving through a research hall with holding spaces for animals, workstations, and cold storage.

"Cito no like this place," he said in a nervous whisper.

I nodded, "You and me both, friend."

The sound of something moving through water further in brought us to a stop.

"Can gatorclaws swim?" I whispered.

Cito nodded.

"Great," I sighed.

"Where'd the water come from?" Gage wondered.

"The park's river," Holmes said. "Let's see what's ahead."

Fortunately, the flooding of the Nuka-Gen replicator control room wasn't as bad as I was imagining. Unfortunately, one of the two gatorclaws wading through it was significantly bigger and paler than the other one. Maybe sensing our goal was in sight, Cito charged the albino gatorclaw with a wild yell. Not to be outdone, Gage opened fire on the other one, while Holmes and I tried to keep either of them from getting killed.

Ok, I’ll admit Holmes helped Gage. I focused entirely on Cito. Either way, the gators went down and Holmes wasted no time getting to the replicator controls. A few commands entered, and the replicator was shut down.

“There,” Holmes said as he turned to Cito, “that should do it.”

Cito was cautiously hopeful, “No more Monsters?”

Holmes nodded, “They won’t be coming back, at least. Your family's safe, Cito, once we eliminate the ones still roaming the park.”

I got the impression Cito barely held himself back from hugging my partner, “Cito so happy! How Cito thank new friend?”

“You just did,” Holmes chuckled. “Let’s get out of this place, hm?”

We made our way out; I kept my eye on Gage. Now that the gatorclaws weren’t going to make a comeback, the park was fit for some new residents to move in… and Gage was going to make sure the flag was raised, whether Cito’s family wanted new neighbors or not.

“Once your family is safe,” Holmes asked Cito as we hunted down the remaining gatorclaws in the park, “will you stay here? There’s a lot more of the world to see.”

Cito thought about it, “Zoo Cito home since small. Zoo family home since forever. Cito want to stay. Only place safe for Cito family and Cito.”

Holmes sighed, "Of course. Cito, there are some people who will be coming to live here. I think you could get along with them, though they're… different."

"Cito trust you. Cito like more new friends!"

Once the park was gatorclaw-free, Holmes hoisted the Pack's flag on top of the Welcome Center. We said one last goodbye to Cito and headed back to Nuka-Town.

"You think that was wise, Holmes?" I asked.

Holmes was adamant, "I’m not kicking him out of his home."

"Pack gets a new toy," Gage shrugged. "That’ll sweeten Mason up."

"I’m going to talk to Mason immediately," Holmes glared, "before his people move in."

"Talk?" Gage rolled his eyes, "Good luck with that."

Holmes ignored him. We followed Holmes back to the Pack's amphitheater and watched him stride through like he owned the place. Which I guess he did, in a manner of speaking.

Mason stood from his throne as he saw him coming, "Just heard Safari Adventure has our flag! About time you got around to us."

"I thought you'd appreciate the selection," Holmes said. "There is one caveat; You will not harm, trap, or otherwise harass any of the gorillas living there, or the human living with them."

"What?" Mason growled.

Holmes was firm, "This is not a request, Mason. Cito and his family are not to be harmed. They leave you alone, you leave them alone."

"Or what?"

Holmes stepped up to the throne's platform, displaying their height difference and literally looking down on the Pack leader. "Or I will annihilate your authority as Alpha."

Mason bared his teeth, fists clenched… then he scoffed. "Hmf. Overboss has a backbone after all…" he trailed off and looked at Holmes with honest confusion, "Did you say this guy's family are gorillas?"

Holmes smirked and took a couple steps back, "I did."

"Huh. Alright, fine," Mason shooed us away with a wave of his hand, "I'll make sure everyone knows if they touch 'em, they're mole rat chow."

"Good," Holmes nodded, turned on his heel and left.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 7

Nuka-World’s unofficial chief handyman was a fella by the name of Chip Morse, which basically meant he was the one who got yelled at, threatened, and kicked around when something broke. So it’s understandable that he was a bit nervous when Holmes hauled him up to the Overboss’s quarters.

“Hey,” I said from my chair, smoking a cigarette with my pants leg rolled up above the knee.

We’d talked to him before, amiable conversation, but he definitely wasn’t expecting the repair job to be my leg. Chip froze, and glanced at Holmes. “Um. Hi.”

I sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke, “You did tell him why we needed him, right Holmes?”

“I said I required his services,” Holmes said with crossed arms and an adorably defensive frown.

He’s cute when he’s worried about me, what can I say? It’s flattering. Also unfortunate for whoever is in the way. “Look, Chip,” I said, “we know you’ve never had to fix a synth before, but something’s out of whack and you’re the best bet for putting it back in place. I’m pretty sure it’s just the knee joint. I’d try to fix it myself, but I don’t have the tools.”

"Oh," Chip said with some relief. "Well, I'll do what I can. I, uh, never worked on a… what'd you say, synth?"

"Yep," I smiled. "Just take a look at the joint, tell me what you think, we'll go from there. Holmes ain't gonna murder you if you don't know how to realign whatever's wrong."

Chip took a look, "Oh! Ok, I can work with this. Can I just…"

"Do whatever you have to, I can handle it."

"Something must have hit you pretty hard," Chip muttered as he started working.

"Bloodworm queen with perfect timing."

Chip made a sound of disgusted sympathy, "My definition of a good day is one where I don't find a nest of bloodworms in a utility tunnel."

"I imagine it's pretty thankless work."

He shrugged, "If I said I loved my job, I'd be lying. At least the raiders find me useful, so they mostly leave me alone. I spend half my time trying to squeeze every ounce of power I can out of this place. Never feels like enough, though."

"One more reason you want the power turned on."

"Yeah," he smiled a little. "It'd make my job easier, and also probably harder. Once things start moving, more likely something will break… but it'd be nice to see the old park the way she was meant to be seen, just once." It was unfortunate timing that whatever was out of place was suddenly back in place. My pained shout sent the poor guy scurrying back in fright. "You can feel pain??"

"Are you alright, Valentine?" Holmes asked.

"Fine, fine," I waved it away with a chuckle and stood up. "Feels pretty good in fact. Whatever you did, did the trick," I offered my good hand to the terrified man on the floor. "I told ya,' Holmes ain't the murdering type. Neither am I."

Chip breathed and let me help him up. "Ok. You're either fucking with me, or you're the strangest raiders I ever met."

"There is a third possibility, Mr. Morse," Holmes said, "and it's one we don't want anyone outside this room speculating on."

"Not until we find a way out of this mess," I muttered.

Holmes changed the subject before Chip could process that, "Are you familiar with the sewer system?"

Chip blinked, "Familiar enough to know you wouldn't believe some of the stuff that comes out of the pipes around here. To call it 'sewage' would be paying it a compliment."

"Hm. What about the surrounding parks?"

"Sorry, all my expertise is about Nuka-Town. Well, I guess now that the Disciples are setting up camp in Galactic Zone, I'll have to learn how she works. And Dry Rock Gulch, once the Operators move in…" he paled, "... oh no I'm gonna be the handyman for the entire park. I'm never gonna sleep."

"Can't you get some help?" I asked.

"Not many of the traders know about machines, that's why I'm always the guy that gets called to fix things."

"Choose a few people you think could learn," Holmes said, "and teach them. You have my permission."

"Huh. That might not be too bad. I'll think about who I want to train. It's a thankless job, not a lot of folks are going to be willing."

"That's not surprising," Holmes nodded. "Do what you can."

Chip thanked us, told me to let him know if I needed anything, and hurried out. I turned to Holmes, "Sewer?"

He sighed, "It wouldn't be the first time we crawled through a drain pipe to invade or escape a facility. I'm merely trying to account for all our options."

"Hm. Say for the sake of argument we could get a message to the Commonwealth. What's the plan?"

"In that event, I would send word to Sanctuary explaining the situation. I have far more faith in Danse and Preston's abilities to plan an invasion than mine. But I have to give them something to work with, and right now all I have is a walled fortress surrounded by…" he stopped, his eyes widening in realization.

Then he ran out of the room.

I chased after him, "Damn it, Holmes, could you not do that?"

He was already on the lift, "Imagine how I felt when you ran after Winter."

"That was one time," I huffed.

"Distract Gage," he said as we neared the ground.

"What??"

"Hey, boss," the raider in question said as we stepped off the lift. "Saw Chip made it out in one piece. Guess he did his job."

"Yes," Holmes said as we walked past.

Gage fell right in beside us, "Where we headed tonight?"

"I want to find Harvey. Tomorrow morning we'll clear out the next park."

"Harvey?" Gage frowned. "You thinking of starting up the Gauntlet?"

"I was under the impression it was popular."

"Sure, but we still got work to do."

Holmes spotted Harvey. I figured this was my cue. "There a reason you're in such a rush?" I demanded.

Gage glared at me, "Colter spent all his time in the Gauntlet and didn't get shit done."

I got as close as I dared, had to keep his focus on me instead of Holmes, "Holmes is nothing like your old boss. He's gotta keep a whole park of raiders happy, and he's gonna do that. Biggest risk in a Gauntlet run is you stabbing us in the back with a contestant."

"Then don't give me a reason to," Gage growled. "Just follow the plan."

"You ever consider the possibility that your plan's rotten to start with?"

"I don't know why the boss lets a talking scrapheap follow him around, but you're on your way to being nothing but parts."

"Funny, I don't know why he didn't shoot you in the head the first chance we got. Should have left you in the bloodworm nest."

Gage sneered, "Yeah, good luck surviving this place without me. You need me to pull the strings, or you're both screwed."

"You ain't the only manipulative son of a bitch in this park."

"What the fuck does that even mean??"

"Enough," Holmes ordered. Harvey was scurrying away as fast as he could. I didn't know what Holmes had told him, but whatever the plan was had been set in motion. "Gage, tomorrow morning we'll investigate the bottling plant attached to the World of Refreshment ride. That could be another location for the Operators, and the day after that I'll give Safari Adventure to the Pack."

Gage frowned, "Pretty obvious favor for the Operators."

"There are five parks and three gangs, someone is going to have less than the others. That is unfortunately how mathematics works."

Gage shrugged, "They ain't gonna be happy is all I'm sayin'. Who's getting Kiddie Kingdom?"

"I haven't decided." Holmes pushed past headed back to the Overboss's quarters, "Whoever has irritated me the least this week."

Gage chuckled, "I guess that's as good a reason as any. You wanna get started in the morning?"

"We'll see you bright and early, Mr. Gage."

We took the lift back up, leaving Gage to his usual spot on the ground floor.

"Manipulative son of a bitch?" Holmes cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Not my best work, I admit."

"You certainly succeeded in confusing him."

I chuckled, "At least there's that."

We went into the bedroom. "So which one of us is the son of a bitch?" Holmes asked.

I grinned, "C'mon, partner, that should be obvious."

He started removing his armor, "You're far too hard on yourself, Mr. Valentine."

"Ha! Always the wise guy. Hey, do I get to be part of this grand scheme of yours?"

"Scheme?"

"Don't give me that look. Spill, Sherlock. What's the plan?"

He finished taking the armor off and sat on the bed, his voice low despite no one being around to overhear. "According to Harvey, it's not quite as long a walk to the Commonwealth as we thought. At least not for a small team of properly prepared individuals trained to move and fight efficiently."

My brow rose, "You sent Harvey to Sanctuary??"

Holmes nodded, "Under the guise of scouting out a challenge for the Gauntlet."

I shook my head, "I hope he makes it. Assuming he manages to get there in one piece, then what?"

"Then he'll deliver a message. All we have to do is wait, continue the charade, and keep the raiders out of Kiddie Kingdom."

"Oh, is that all?” I let the sarcasm drip. “Piece of cake.”

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 6

We had a visitor the next morning. Mags Black left her two cronies at the base of the artificial mountain as she took the lift up herself. I don't know what she said to Gage to get him to stay put on the ground, but he wasn't happy about it.

Holmes had just finished his morning cigarette and a minimal breakfast. He stood as she stepped off the lift, "Ah. Ms. Black."

The raider boss raised an eyebrow, "Miz? It's like you're trying to stand out. You're the Overboss now, Mister Holmes, you get to be on a first name basis with everyone."

Holmes lit another cigarette and said with exaggerated politeness, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

Mags smirked, "You can blame it on giving the Disciples The Galactic Zone. I don't know what you're planning, but I want my people to come out on top at the end."

"At the moment, avoiding the animosity of an amusement park full of raiders is my primary concern."

"Bullshit," she said pleasantly. "You're the General of the Minutemen, the frozen vault-dweller that destroyed the Institute. I heard about your almost-war with the Brotherhood too, how you kicked them out of the Commonwealth after destroying their toys." She gestured to me, “Most of the raiders in Nuka-World are from west of here, where the Institute never had a presence. They think your friend is just a nifty robot bodyguard. Creepy, but nothing more. Those of us from the Commonwealth though?” She smiled, sinister, “We know exactly what he is. William and I know better than most. You never did find that janitor that went missing, did you Nick? What was her name, Amelia?”

“Annette,” I corrected, tried not to rise to the bait. “Not usually a fan of kicking folks out beyond the Wall, but in the case of you and your brother I’m glad Diamond City did.”

“Funnily enough, so are we. This suits us much better.” She said it smoothly, nothing but charm, but you don’t last long in my line of work if you can’t tell a bluff when you see one. She turned her attention back to Holmes, “Either your rumored nobility is all an act to get you into a place of power, or you’re going to throw a wrench into the fragile gears of this place. If it turns out to be the first one, you may want to consider showing my people a bit of favor before ugly rumors of synths and interfering Minutemen start circulating the park. If it’s the second one, well. Just know that every Operator in this park is watching.”

Holmes glowered, “I don’t respond well to threats.”

“As long as you respond,” Mags said, and took the lift back down.

As soon as she was down, Gage came up. "Mags pissed?"

"A touch upset," Holmes offered me a cigarette, which I took. "I was a little surprised she remembered you, Valentine."

"Guess it's hard to forget a face like this," I said dryly.

"What the hell are you two goin' on about?" Gage sighed.

"Nothing important," Holmes said, "just the Operators being unhappy with me. They can have the next park, it doesn't matter."

"Giving 'em the next park might look like you were intimidated," Gage said.

"What is the next park?" Holmes asked.

"Figured we'd hit Dry Rock Gulch."

"Hm, the American 'Old West' theme. A fake gold mining operation should suit the Operators, don't you think, Valentine?"

I chuckled, "I think the implication is gonna go over their heads, but we might as well check it out and get it over with."

Holmes agreed and we headed off. We made it to the park’s gate when I heard something moving through the earth, sort of like the sound a mole rat makes just before it leaps out and bites you. Only these weren’t mole rats.

A handful of big red worms with mouths that took up the whole head attacked, surprising the hell out of me and Holmes and earning an annoyed growl from Gage. They weren’t much of a fight, but, “Well that was unpleasant,” I said.

“You never seen bloodworms before?” Gage asked, skeptical.

I shook my head, “We don't get these things back east.”

“Better get used to ‘em, they’re a fucking menace around here.”

Hopefully we wouldn’t be staying long enough for me to get used to them, but I kept that to myself. I glanced around as we entered the park, the Old West frontier outpost aesthetic turned kitsch.

“How’s it go,” Gage sarcastically drawled, “This town ain’t big enough for you and me… ah, never mind.”

Holmes chuckled. “Let’s ask the local law enforcement for information,” he pointed to a protectron wearing a sheriff’s hat.

“Hope y'all are having a good day here at Nuka-World. Ready to saddle up and ride into the old wild west?” the protectron said.

“Great,” Gage grumbled, “More dumb robots.”

The protectron was unperturbed, “I'm the sheriff of these parts, and I need your help getting rid of those no good outlaws holed up in Mad Mulligan's Mine!”

“This is why I hate robots,” Gage huffed. “They don’t even know the world ended, this playtime shit is annoying.”

The protectron’s park personality programming stopped, “Processing: Hostile visitor. Ignore and continue explanation for the sake of the other guests.”

I laughed.

The sheriff continued his job, “The door to Mad Mulligan's Mine is locked up. I got a spare key in a safe by the theater, but wouldn't you know, I plum forgot what the combination to the safe was! You'll need to talk to my three amigos: Doc Phosphate, One-Eyed Ike, and the Giddyup Kid. Prove to them you're tough enough to take on the outlaws, and they'll give you their part of the combination. Good luck, little doggie! And don't forget your complimentary deputy uniform, courtesy of Nuka-Cola!”

The sheriff handed Holmes a costume, who promptly handed it to Gage, who scowled before realizing, “You got a weird ass sense of humor, boss,” and tossed it away. As we walked he asked, “We really gotta do all that, talk to three other robots just to get a key?”

“I suppose we could simply hang a banner and be done with the place,” Holmes said.

Gage shook his head, “Not with the bloodworms. Gotta torch the nest first, otherwise whoever moves in is gonna be pissed to hell you gave ‘em an infested base.”

Holmes made casual eye contact with me. He’d been hoping for a raider-bloodworm showdown.

“I mean,” Gage was still talking, “why do we need this fucking key in the first place? Can’t we just blast the door open?”

“I try not to do anything rash if I can avoid it,” Holmes said, “and surely you don’t think we’ll be bested by a few challenges designed for children?”

“I’m starting to second-guess making you Overboss,” Gage grumbled.

“Perhaps you should have considered that possibility before enthroning a stranger you know precious little about, against his will,” Holmes steely replied.

“I can deal with an ass of a boss,” Gage played it cool, “as long as he gets done what needs to get done.”

We did the tasks for the park protectrons, fighting bloodworms, overgrown crickets, and giant ants along the way. Once we had the key, we headed for Mad Mulligan's Mine… a roller-coaster.

Gage had kept pretty quiet til then, "People actually stood in line and waited for this crap?" He scoffed, "Bunch of suckers."

"Roller-coasters were a popular attraction,” I commented flatly, “though I can’t say I ever saw the appeal.”

Holmes gestured for quiet as we headed into the ride. The lobby held a souvenir shop and the entrance to the tunnels that would lead folks to the boarding area, decorated to look like you’re walking through a mine out of a Saturday morning western. Back then it probably lacked the dead bodies, of course. Holmes and I had heard rumors of traders who hid from Colter’s raiders in Dry Rock Gulch. We found ‘em. Bloodworms saw to it they didn’t have long to enjoy their freedom.

The boarding area was a massive pit littered with brahmin corpses, bulging with bloodworm larvae. In the middle of the pit was the massive queen herself.

“I believe we’ve found the nest,” Holmes said.

“No shit, boss,” Gage scoffed.

“Valentine and I will take care of the queen, you exterminate everything hiding in those brahmin.”

Gage nodded, “Sounds like a plan.”

I might be getting too old for fighting overgrown monsters in caves… but every time I think that, I know it’s not really true. Or it is, and I’m too stubborn to admit it. Anyway, we got the job done but the queen did a number on my leg. At least we know that Nuka-Town’s got a competent mechanic. I could walk, which is saying something, just going to have a limp until whatever got whacked out of place could get realigned. Gage was going to make a remark, but wisely shut up when Holmes glared at him.

We let the Sheriff know the job was done, got paid, which was a nice surprise, and Holmes climbed up to the top of the theater to hoist a flag with a black heart in a bullseye, bleeding gold.

“Gave in to the Operators after all, huh?” Gage said once Holmes was back on the ground. He didn’t sound accusatory, which was kind of weird, just like he was making conversation. Which was also kind of weird.

“If I have to secure Mags Black’s silence with a token gesture,” Holmes said, “then so be it.”

Gage shrugged, “Just let ‘em know you’re the Overboss, not some do-good General.”

“Gage, you conned me into this mess for the purpose of bringing the gangs together, yes? How does strutting around threatening violence serve that purpose?”

“Because we’re raiders?? That’s the language these idiots speak. You gotta treat ‘em right, but make sure they know you can end them at any time.”

Holmes made a considering sound and headed out of the park, “I often thought that if raiders could ever organize, they would be a force to be reckoned with. It seems I was right.”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” Gage exclaimed, relieved as if Holmes had finally come around. He didn’t know that every time the topic came up, it was followed with a list of possible ways the Minutemen would eliminate that threat.

Unfortunately, none of the hypothetical scenarios ever involved the General and his partner effectively being held hostage, with no way to call for help.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 5

Holmes held off on putting up a flag in Kiddie Kingdom; he wanted to give Oswald plenty of time to round up his remaining friends and leave town before raiders moved in. Holmes also wanted to see more of Nuka-Town's exterior, keep going before we attracted attention with his absence. I think part of him was hoping to see some chink in the wall, some flaw we could use to our advantage. Heck, I know I was.

All we found was a foul-tempered deathclaw.

"Did you ever hear Danse's recommendation for how to hunt deathclaws?" Holmes hissed as I got a stimpack in him afterward. "'Return to base and forget about it. You'll live longer.'"

I chuckled, "Man's got a sense of humor I never give him credit for. You alright?" He nodded. "Honest answer, Sherlock," I said with a small smile.

Holmes frowned and admitted, "There is a ringing in my ears, but the rest of me will be fine as soon as the stimpak does its work."

I gently tilted his head back to get a look at his eyes. "Vision blurry?"

He hesitated, "Slightly."

"I want that Dr. Mackenzie to check you out. Might have a concussion."

"We can't waste the opportunity—"

"I'm not risking you being hurt worse than you look," I said, firm. "I know I'm killing a great chance for intel, make a plan, get the hell out of this place… but damn it, Sherlock, it doesn't do me any good if you wind up getting hurt beyond repair."

"If it meant you at least could get home—"

"You're gonna stop that kind of talk right now. You're seeing the doc," I helped him up, "and we'll figure something out."

I helped him back, but he insisted on going in through the front gate on his own. He pulled it off too, not that I thought he wouldn’t. The guy’s impressively stubborn. Maybe I should have said “infuriatingly,” but I guess it’s a bit of both. The doc checked him over, with the marketplace guards looking curious all the while. No one asked any questions, and Dr. Mackenzie said he probably suffered a mild concussion and needed to take it easy a couple days.

“Limited physical exertion and mental concentration, if possible,” she suggested. I guess it’s hard for a doctor to be firm with her patient when she’s got a shock collar around her neck.

Holmes sighed, “Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s going to be an option.”

With that, we headed back to the Overboss’s room. Gage was waiting for us by the lift and followed us up. As soon as we were safely above listening ears, Gage helped himself to the bar. “Shit,” the raider chugged a swallow of what was probably vodka, “The fuck were you thinking, boss?! Everyone’s talking about how all of a sudden Kiddie Kingdom ain’t got a rads problem anymore, you can see the fucking park instead of a green haze! Then you come walking back in, go straight to the doc, and she tells you to take it easy?”

He slammed the bottle down on the bar and started pacing. “So you went in, cleaned out the park, nearly got yourself killed, and didn’t put up a flag. What the Fuck am I supposed to do with that?” He turned to me, “Shut up, I don’t want an answer, I got an answer already lined up. You gotta understand, the new Overboss getting his ass kicked doesn’t look good.” He turned back to Holmes, “You made it here without help, that’s good, but you look like shit. Cleaning out Kiddie Kingdom, rads central. Makes sense you’d get sick. I can run that angle. No flag? Eh, who wants the kid town anyway. Besides, wanna give it time to air out or whatever. That’ll keep folks… not happy, but not angry, which is the important part. Soon as you're ready, we’ll head out for one of the other parks." Gage walked right up to Holmes then, "This time, I’m coming with. Can’t let anyone get the idea I don’t care about the Overboss’s health.”

So much for finding a way out on our own.

The Galactic Zone was west of Nuka-Town and, according to Gage, the traders used to scavenge for scrap in the space-themed park before the raiders moved in. The dead bodies by the entrance weren’t encouraging.

Holmes looked at Gage. Gage shrugged, “I dunno what killed ‘em, they were here when we took over the place.”

Holmes searched the bodies and found a holotape. It was a diary; the dead traders had come to salvage the tech in the park, but something had gone wrong. Something called a "Star Control."

"The fuck is a star control?" Gage grumbled.

"I don't know," Holmes said, pistol drawn, "but activating it somehow caused these people's deaths."

Gage was not impressed, "Killing a bunch of traders already running away don't mean much."

"I have found it is best to be cautious when dealing with technology one does not understand," Holmes said flatly.

We headed in. Considering the theme of the park, the hostile robots weren't much of a surprise, but the number and variety was a bit of a shock.

"Didn't think I'd be getting shot at by a walking refrigerator today!" I shouted to Holmes as we took cover from the bot's blue blasts.

"Is it really shooting that Quantum shit??" Gage sounded offended. He got off a few shots with his rifle, shattering the display screen on top of the fridge. It didn't seem to slow it down. “Never did have the aim to knock the batteries out of 'em,” Gage shouted, “Always had to take down robots the hard way!”

Holmes drew Oswald's sword and charged. I swore, loudly, “Damn it, Gage, don’t give him ideas!!” Gage and I rushed after Holmes as he crippled the robot. Then I saw the eyebots. And the protectron. “We got company!”

“C’mere, spare parts!” Gage growled and opened fire.

I’ll give Gage some small credit; the man’s good in a fight, even if I hate how he shanghaied us into this mess. The three of us took the robots out, but that was just the welcoming committee. The whole park was populated by modified models of robots, painted in Nuka colors. Holmes wanted to find the Star Control, figuring that whatever it was probably had something to do with the robots run amok, and the dead traders out front.

None of us were expecting it to be a huge military-grade computer mainframe.

Gage whistled low, “Well ain't this somethin'. Probably don't all work, but... I'm gonna keep my hands to myself just the same.”

“You’re smarter than you look,” I muttered.

“Least I look like something, instead of falling apart.”

“Enough,” Holmes ordered. He approached a corpse holding a black circuit board with glowing red lights. The board was the same size and shape as the empty panels all across the mainframe. Holmes placed the board in one of the panels, and the mainframe powered up.

“Guess shooting it won’t do the trick, huh?” Gage joked as Holmes accessed the terminal.

“Shooting things is rarely an effective way to gain information, Mr. Gage,” Holmes said.

“Sure it is,” Gage shrugged, “you just gotta be careful not to kill ‘em on the first shot.”

While Holmes read, I looked around. The building was a military and space exhibit, a diorama of a Quantum-blue suit of power armor on the moon enclosed by glass in the middle. The fella Holmes had taken the gadget from had a holotape on him. Turned out he was the one that turned on the robots to defend his people from Colter's raiders, before making sure that the system could handle it. ‘What’s the worst that could happen,’ he wondered.

Well.

Holmes stepped away from the terminal and gestured to the panels, “The system is a Systemized Telemetry for Automated Robot Control, or S.T.A.R. Control. These cores enable communication to all of the robots in the park. If we can find the cores, we can shut the robots down and eventually disable the defense mode they’re currently in.”

“Find the shiny rectangle things? That’s it?” Gage said.

“And not get killed by rampaging robots in the process,” Holmes nodded.

“Right. I’m so glad we picked this park to start off,” Gage headed toward the entrance, “who’s bright idea was that?”

“Yours,” I said.

It’s hard to imagine Nuka-World as a place families once came to when you’re shooting robots alongside a raider who essentially kidnapped you and your partner to force you into being his front for power… but the Galactic Zone was probably pretty impressive back in its day. RobCo sponsored a battle arena to show off its robots, there was a movie theater featuring whatever sci-fi flick of the day, a space-adventure roller coaster, everything a kid with a fascination for robots and astronauts could want. There was also a Vault-Tec exhibit.

The attraction was obviously just a way to attract customers to purchase spots in vaults. I got a kick out of the "Mutations: It Could Happen To You” pamphlet we found behind a desk. Of course, it’s not really Vault-Tec if there’s not some sort of immoral experimentation going on, and sure enough this facsimile of a vault had all the requirements. Vault-Tec used the ride to experiment on visitors. After everything we’ve found in Vaults, you’d think I’d stop being surprised.

“You ask me, whole idea of these ‘Vaults’ was messed up,” Gage grumbled as we walked through. “Sure, stick me underground with no control over anything... What could go wrong?”

“You would have made a fascinating specimen for some of the horrific experiments I’ve seen,” Holmes muttered.

Gage frowned, “I don’t know if that was an insult or not, so I’m gonna keep my mouth shut this time. But if—”

Whatever threat was lined up got cut off by the protectrons on display coming to life.

We fought our way through the park, explored the nooks and crannies of every ride and exhibit until we’d collected a hefty haul of star cores. Once we were back at the Star Control, Holmes loaded them into the panels. There were only a few empty spots left, and that was more than enough for our purposes.

“There,” Holmes announced as he accessed the terminal again. “The robots have been taken off defense mode.”

“Good,” Gage said. “Means they won’t cause any trouble for whatever gang gets this place, right?”

“Yes.” Holmes kept neutral.

“So which is it gonna be?”

“I hadn’t given it much thought.”

Gage rolled his eyes, “Well start thinkin’, boss. Sooner you hoist a flag, the sooner we can get back to Nuka-Town and get ready for the next park.”

Holmes thought for a moment. He rifled through the pack of flags and pulled out a tattered sheet with a red knife crossing four black blades painted in the middle. As he headed up one of the ramps to the second floor of the building, Gage laughed, “Shit, the Disciples? Really? Figured you’d be more fond of the Operators.”

I was frowning as Holmes came back down. He gestured that we leave. The three of us got moving, Gage leading the way back to town. “Disciples?” I asked in a low voice.

“To paraphrase something Gage said earlier, raiders aren’t good with technology. I don’t imagine the Disciples will find much relief for their bloodlust in fighting robots.”

“Unless they make the robots fight other people.”

“That’s something the Pack might attempt, but not the Disciples. They enjoy getting their own hands dirty too much. And if any of these raiders could figure out how to use the Star Control system, I imagine it would be the Operators.”

“So you gave it to the gang that would get the least use and satisfaction out of it.”

He nodded.

I smiled, just a little.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 4

Holmes woke up not long after sunrise. I made sure he ate something, and we came out to see Gage waiting at the bar. "The Overboss wakes," he greeted, standing up. "Well, you came back in one piece. That's a good sign. Everything all peachy with our friendly neighborhood psychopaths?"

"'Peachy' isn't quite the adjective I'd use," Holmes said as he lit a cigarette. "The leaders have their doubts, but are willing to give me a chance."

Gage winced, "Hoo, boy. Not exactly what I was hoping for."

"Most of their doubts seem to come from the fact that this is your idea."

"Damn, they ain't gonna make this easy," Gage grumbled, and put a confident face on. "Ok, time to roll up your sleeves, boss. There's work to be done. See, this place is huge. Divided up into sections. Parks, whatever the hell they called 'em back in the day. We need to take 'em all back, one at a time."

"You hope that having more space will prevent the chance of someone… doing something rash."

Gage chuckled, "That's one way to put it. Every section we secure gives us a little more breathing room, and more resources. And it'd be good to have a few less threats surrounding us, too."

As much as I hated to admit it, it made sense. Gage was smarter than he looked. Spending time away from raider central might also be something Holmes and I could work to our advantage, assuming we survived.

Gage continued explaining, "You stake a claim, plant a little flag for one of the gangs, and that settles it. That park is theirs for good. Who gets what, that'll be your call. Whoever you hand it off to will appreciate it, but the others might get a little jealous. You know how it goes."

To say I was skeptical would be an understatement. "Plant a flag? Are you serious?"

"Dead serious," he shot me a hard stare and focused on Holmes. "Look, you leave it up to anyone else, the gangs'll all just fight over who deserves the space. Lot of these idiots can't read, so it needs to be as plain as day for them to get on board. They know what to watch for. So that's it. Nice and simple, right?" He grinned, "And hey—we're in this together, so I might as well go all-in. You want me watching your back, you just say the word."

"No thanks," I fumed.

Gage ignored me, but made his case to Holmes, "C'mon boss, you gonna turn down another gun?"

Holmes was unimpressed, "At this moment, yes. My partner and I are equipped to handle whatever this park may throw at us."

Gage shrugged, "Suit yourself. Change your mind, I'll be around."

Holmes took the sack of flags Gage had whipped up and we headed out.

“Are we really doing this?” I asked in a low voice as we walked.

“Clearing out the parks could be of use to the traders in the long run,” Holmes murmured back.

“Not if they’re populated with raiders,” I grumbled.

Holmes didn’t respond, and I started to get concerned as he kept walking all the way to the front gate. “Holmes. You think they’re going to let us…” Holmes walked right out the front gate of the park without anyone saying a word. “... never mind.”

Of course, it wasn’t hard to see why the raiders weren’t worried about us flying the coop. The collapsed remains of a highway decorated the vast emptiness in front of us, the dust of a post-apocalyptic parking lot, mountains in the distance.

My fingers brushed his, "Long walk back home."

The corner of his mouth quirked in the smallest grin. “Indeed. Come, we can talk without fear of being overheard if we stay outside the walls.” He started moving, following a walkway around the east side of the park. I followed close behind. “Hopefully we can find something in these other parks we can use to our advantage,” he said. “I also need more information on the threats Gage mentioned.”

“How about giant crickets?” I asked and drew my gun as three of the overgrown insects leaped straight for us.

“Not exactly what I had in mind,” Holmes said as he slashed at them with his blade.

Hopping horrors dispatched, we kept walking. “Wonder what other delightful surprises we’ll find,” I joked.

"Have you given any thought to Dr. Bridgeman's idea?" Holmes asked.

"Killing the leaders and hoping the rest of the raiders spontaneously give up?"

He chuckled at my skepticism. "She's at least correct in that the leaders will have to be killed."

"And all three live in places with only one way in or out."

"Perhaps we can turn them against each other somehow."

"All three at once?"

Holmes was pensive. I let him think.

“You realize we’re walking right toward the kid’s park?” I asked after a bit.

“What gave it away, the ferris wheel or the giant lollipops in front of the gate?”

“Don’t get snarky just because you’re in a bad mood.”

We walked through the gate to the Kiddie Kingdom. Right on cue, a voice came on over the ancient PA system, “Well now, friends, it seems we have another uninvited guest to the park.”

I sighed, “Sherlock, if we have to run through another goddamn gauntlet, then you’re sleeping on the sofa.”

He smirked as he drew his gun and I followed suit. “You don’t use the bed unless I’m in it, Nick.”

“It’s the principal of the thing.”

The voice over the speakers was still talking, a ringmaster to whatever twisted circus we’d just stepped into, “Up! Up, performers! It's time for another show! Though I doubt you'll even make it to the Theater, stranger.” We started moving further into the park, and Holmes’s Pip-Boy started clicking real fast. “Shall we take bets on where this one shuffles off? What do you think, friends, the tunnels? The Fun House?” The voice laughed maniacally, and ferals shambled out of the rust.

“That your geiger counter doing cartwheels?” I shouted to my partner as we fired on the ferals.

“Yes! And I don’t think it’s just the ferals!”

First batch of ferals down, I realized Holmes was right. There was a haze across the park, a radioactive mist. “It’s got nothing on Far Harbor’s fog,” I grumbled, “but we shouldn’t linger all the same.”

“Valentine, look at these ferals. They’re wearing face paint. It’s fresh, recently applied.”

“How the heck does a person get close enough to a feral to paint its face without losing a limb in the process?”

“Let’s find out,” he said, and headed further into the park.

Kiddie Kingdom may have delighted little kids back in the day, but now the confined walls and maze-like streets made navigating it difficult for two adults. Regular attacks from desiccated irradiated clowns didn’t help, nor did the mocking voice that followed us everywhere.

“Do you enjoy that lovely glowing mist?” the voice laughed as a feral knocked Holmes under a mist-sprayer turned deadly, “Feels great to us! Why, we've got sprayers all over Kiddie Kingdom to keep you cool and irradiated.”

I ran forward to help, shoving Holmes out of the way and blasting the feral in the head. It ain’t often I’m glad to be made of metal, but not having to worry about rads is definitely a perk. Holmes was already taking a RadAway when I turned back to him, a distance from the sprayers. “You alright?”

“I’ve been better,” he shrugged. “The man in charge here is a ghoul.”

“Yeah, figured as much. He said something about tunnels when we first got here, they’re probably lacking the mist sprayers.”

“Might be just as irradiated for other reasons,” Holmes nodded, “but worth investigating.”

“Where do we start?”

Holmes nodded over my shoulder, “Let’s try the Employees Only entrance over there.”

“Wise ass.”

The door was locked, but that’s never stopped Holmes before. If they wanted to keep people out, they should have bought a stronger lock. Once upon a time the tunnels would have been used to get employees where they needed to be and fix what needed fixing, without ruining the illusion of a fantasy world for the kids on the surface. Two hundred years later, a pair of old relics made their way inside, expecting the usual sorts of things one finds in tunnels these days; radroaches, ferals, mole rats of unusual size.

The bunk beds were a surprise.

Journal entries on a terminal answered a lot of the big questions. The employees of Kiddie Kingdom before the War had enough foresight, given the state of the world at the time, to make an emergency plan for just in case the world ended. And it paid off--they gathered everyone they could, employees and park guests alike, underground into the tunnels when the bombs fell. They were doing alright for themselves, until a radiation storm tore through. Lots of folks died from the radiation, and the rest became ghouls. They kept going, doing their best to defend their settlement and newfound family.

Then a hundred years later, some started to turn feral. They called it "The Affliction," thought it was an illness. Maybe it is, in a way. No one really knows what makes a ghoul go feral, but living near a radioactive water supply for a century probably didn't help. Now it seemed the only sane one left was the guy running this deadly show.

We made our way through the tunnels and overheard him talking, irritated. “What are you doing out of costume again? You know Nuka fires people for breaking character.”

A feral growled.

Holmes and I crept closer and got a glimpse into a windowed maintenance room. A man in a magician’s tuxedo and top hat was putting makeup on a ghoul. His back was to us, but he sounded just like the ghoul over the speakers.

"Yes, of course I'm kidding," he said to the feral, "but seriously, the clown make up helps scare the invaders off and there's a new one in the park."

The feral growled.

The magician sounded puzzled, "No. No, I don't think that's going to work this time. There's something different about this one."

An angrier growl this time.

The magician growled back. "See?" he said, irritated, "I can do that too. Now stop squirming."

The feral growled. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought it was apologizing.

The magician certainly thought so. "Sorry. I know you can't help it. We just have to hold out till she gets back with a cure. Then we'll drive the Raiders out and get the farm back in order."

Holmes and I shared a look. A cure? For ferals?

The magician continued, "We'll fix this. I promise." He put down the face paint, "There. Back in character. I need to prepare some more surprises for our visitor, so I'll leave you to find your way out."

That was our cue to get moving.

"A cure for ferals, Valentine!" Holmes's voice was hushed but no less firm. "That man is waiting for a cure that doesn't exist, and will probably keep doing so for eternity."

"All the folks here thought going feral was some sort of disease, makes sense they'd want a cure. Sounded like someone went out searching for one."

"If we can find him, perhaps we can talk some sense into him."

I frowned, "Hold on. I'm all for being noble, but I'm not keen on the idea of fighting more ferals and you getting a green suntan."

"We both know radiation doesn't cause super mutants--"

"I'm referring to how sick you're going to look dying of radiation poisoning!" I was irritated, thought I could hear the gears in my jaw grind.

“I’m not fond of the thought either. Yet, if we don’t have some evidence for our activities out here, we will attract suspicion from the raiders. The magician will have to leave eventually, and I would rather convince him through reason than violence.”

I sighed, “Alright. I don’t like it, but I guess you got a point. It would look bad if their big tough leader came crawling back without finishing the job he set out to do, and if they decide you’re the wrong man for the job, they'll put a bullet in your brain, or a collar around your neck. I don't even want to think about what they'd try to do to me."

He nodded, “We have to follow Gage’s plan, at least until we have the opportunity to contact the Commonwealth.”

“What’s that going to do?”

He grinned, “I have an idea.”

“You gonna share it with me?”

“Once we’re out of this death trap carnival. The first thing our ghoulish host said when we entered the park was that we would never make it to the theater, and the only place in this park with a theater is the castle. That's where he's waiting."

We exited the tunnels just in time to hear an ancient recording announce that tickets for Oswald the Outrageous’s magic show were sold out. At least we had a name for our tormentor. He was certainly living up to it.

Holmes was right; King Cola’s Castle was the park’s stage theater, where they’d put on a couple shows for the kids. One was a play, the other was a magic act. Now the magician was waiting for us on the stage, skin glowing under the brim of his hat. I’d heard stories about sentient glowing ones, dismissed them as just tall tales and rumors. Guess I was wrong.

“I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d make it this far,” Oswald said as we entered. “I can tell you're different than the usual invaders, so I'll not bother with the usual tricks and illusions I use to scare off the superstitious.” Holmes and I kept walking, slowly getting closer to the stage while the showman had his moment, “When the bombs fell, everything changed. We changed. And somehow I received a gift. Actual magic. The stuff of legends. Perhaps you'd like to see some?”

Holmes and I shared a look and started moving faster.

We were too late. Like a wizard summoning a creature, and all the over-the-top theatrics he’d need to do it, Oswald commanded, “Up!” and an army of ferals rose from between the seats. “No matter what you do, I can heal my friends, and we will protect what is ours!”

“Damn it,” I shouted, “we’re not the ones you should be fighting!”

You don’t get a whole lot of chances to chat when a feral’s trying to chew your limbs off, so Holmes and I focused on the fight, just trying to get through until we could reach the mad magician.

“Well, it seems your asinine assault won't be dissuaded,” the glowing ghoul finally decided. “Then I guess it's time for our final act. Join me on the roof of King Cola's Castle and we'll see an end to this production.”

And he was gone in a puff of smoke.

“Holmes,” I grumbled, “it takes a lot to get me angry. This guy’s done it.”

Holmes nodded, “All of this unnecessary drama is certainly exhausting.”

I laughed a little, couldn’t help it, “Yeah? That’s funny coming from you.”

“What do you mean?”

“If we manage to convince him to see reason, the two of you could compare notes. It’s a shame you didn’t bring the Shroud outfit.”

Holmes rolled his eyes and tried not to smirk.

Oswald waited on the roof, like he’d said, a serrated sword in hand. “I'm not going to let you kill any more of my friends. This is our home, not yours.”

“We’re not the ones who just summoned an army of ferals to attack us,” I said. “Only thing we’ve done since stepping foot in this place was defend ourselves.”

“You invaders are all the same! You come in, steal whatever you can, kill the ‘monsters’ so you can take our home!” He sneered, “How many so-called ‘ferals’ have you needlessly slaughtered while ignorantly thinking you're doing the world a favor?!”

“Oswald,” Holmes said, and the man jumped. I imagine it had been a while since he’d heard his name said by something that wasn’t a recording. “We read the terminals in the tunnels. We know the radiation changed you and your friends, but you turned this place into a home… until your friends started getting sick. Are you the only one left?”

Oswald was suspicious, but when he answered he just sounded tired, “Over time, the illness took the minds of my friends... and those that we love.” Determined, he stated, “I am going to find a cure, and fix my friends before someone like you comes along and exterminates us all.”

“In two hundred years, no one has learned what causes a ghoul to turn fer- to get sick,” Holmes tried. “The only thing that is certain is that they don’t change back. It’s too late.”

“You're wrong!” Oswald shouted, angry, “Rachel is going to find a way to cure them, we're going to fix this!

“Who’s Rachel?” Holmes asked, alert.

Oswald calmed a little bit, but was no less defiant, “My beloved left this place years ago to find a cure to this disease. In return, I swore that I'd keep our people safe by defending our home. When Rachel walks back through those gates with the cure in hand, then you'll see, everyone will see, that I was right!”

“What if she never returns? How long are you going to wait?”

“I will stay here for as long as it takes. I've already watched two hundred years pass, what makes you think I can't wait two hundred more?”

I put a hand on Holmes’s shoulder, “Let the immortals talk this one out,” I said softly. He was about to protest, but Oswald was finally paying attention.

“I’ve never seen anything like you before,” he said.

I shrugged, “I imagine synths don’t make it out this way much. I don’t doubt for a moment you’ve got the fortitude to wait for eternity. You’ve done good, keeping this place safe. But I gotta ask… if you’re here defending the castle, who’s left to save the damsel in distress?”

He was alarmed, “Distress?”

“You haven’t heard from her in years. What if she needs your help?”

He shook his head, “I told her she shouldn’t, but she insisted… if I hadn’t been here, the raiders would have taken everything, killed all of our friends, family…”

Holmes stepped in, “Even if she’s safe, no one has been able to find a cure. To the best of my knowledge, no one’s ever tried. Such a discovery might well take two hundred more years, and if Rachel is going to succeed, she’s going to need help.”

Oswald was quiet for a long time. “Maybe you're right,” he said, subdued. “If Rachel is still out there, I'll find her and we'll search for this cure together.” He straightened up, “I'll gather what remains of my friends and we'll leave this place. Don't worry about the radiation, it will no longer be a burden to you and your kind…” he looked at me, “though I suppose it never bothered you at all, did it?”

“Nope,” I said. “Word of warning, if you see anything that looks like me, minus the fashion sense, it’s probably not friendly.”

He nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind.” He handed Holmes his sword, “Here, you should have this. Consider it an apology for misjudging you. Farewell.”

And he was gone, in a puff of smoke.

“Alright,” I lit a cigarette, “I’ll admit it. That trick’s neat.”

We both knew this Rachel was probably dead, but it didn't seem like telling Oswald that would have helped. And who knows? Maybe she really is trapped in a tower, waiting for rescue.

It's a pretty thought, anyway.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 3

Since we were meeting leaders, we headed to the one next door first. The Disciples called the maintenance area under Fizztop Mountain home, so we headed around to the employee entrance. The guard didn’t have any trouble seeing us, despite her face being completely covered. “Watch yourself, ‘boss,’” she threatened, “cuz we sure will.” Holmes did not deign to comment.

The inside of the mountain was the typical sort of decor I expect from raiders, but the Disciples took their fondness for dismembered body parts on pikes to an extreme level. It was one of the more unsettling locations I’ve been in, and I once followed Holmes through a serial killer’s art studio. The person we were here to see wasn’t going to ease that sensation.

A woman with a bit of a drawl to her voice was talking to another woman wearing a bladed helmet, like an apocalyptic valkyrie, while a man in a spiked helmet stood to the side. All the Disciples kept their faces hidden at all times, and these three were no exceptions, the helmets doing the job instead of hoods and masks.

The gist of the conversation was that the Disciples weren’t too pleased with Gage’s plan and choice of new leader. The lady in the bladed helmet said they were giving Gage one last chance, and if this scheme of his didn’t work out, she’d kill him. No wonder the guy was eager for Holmes to be on board, his life was counting on it.

Holmes approached the valkyrie after she dismissed the other two. “So,” she said. “You’re Gage’s little pet project.”

Great start.

“If you mean I’m the one he tricked into becoming your Overboss,” Holmes said with a warning tone, “then yes.”

She shook her head, “The Overboss title doesn’t mean anything. Hasn’t for some time. Everyone knows Gage wanted Colter dead. Of course, if I’d had my way, it would have been a slow and painful process. But whatever.” She sighed, “Let’s get this meet and greet over with. I’m Nisha. I lead the Disciples.”

Holmes introduced himself, last name only, and decided not to mention the synth standing just behind his shoulder. That was fine with me; I wasn’t in any mood to chat, and the more mystery we could keep around us, the better. At least until we had something resembling a plan.

Nisha was calm and smooth, with an edge. Seems the Disciples only had one rule, to keep the peace of this little alliance between the gangs, which really just meant “don’t get caught.” Nisha was smart enough to know that her odds weren’t great if her people had to fight two rival gangs at once. Otherwise, she figured rules went out the window when the bombs dropped.

Holmes disagreed, “The world needs rules. Otherwise, we’ll never recover.”

“Rules are dangerous,” Nisha countered, “because people start to trust them. Colter thought some sort of rule or code would make him untouchable, but he found out he was wrong—the hard way.” That sounded like a problem of ego instead of rules to me, but I doubted she’d appreciate the difference. "Although I could give him a little credit,” she continued. “He built the Gauntlet after all. Of course it was total shit at first, no imagination, but we spiced it up a bit.”

She was pleased with herself. Holmes was not amused. “How many lives has the Gauntlet claimed?”

She shrugged, “Who’s counting? At least enough to keep the traders busy. We like to send them in to clean out the bodies whenever things get ripe in there.” She smiled, savoring the fact. “They don’t always make it out alive, of course. The Gauntlet never sleeps.”

She was trying to get under Holmes’s skin. Hell, she got under mine. But Holmes is nothing if not practiced at keeping his emotions in check. “Impressive,” he said flatly.

Nisha seemed amused. “I may let you keep that pretty head of yours on your shoulders after all. I just hope Gage is right about you. He made a lot of promises to get us here and never followed through.” Her voice sharpened, “So you better not screw this up, because I’m not about to tolerate another round of bullshit.”

Holmes raised an eyebrow, “I assure you, I am the very best at what I do.”

“Disciples don’t make idle threats,” she warned. Maybe sensing she was alienating a potential enemy, she backed off a little, made the case for why Holmes should help the Disciples take over the park instead. The Operators are spoiled brats, the Pack are a bunch of animals, the stuff you’d expect rival leaders to say about each other. Finished her speech with a gem; “Do right by us and everyone in the Commonwealth will know your name.”

Holmes almost laughed. “They already do. However, I will consider your proposal.”

That wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “Aren’t you sure of yourself,” she huffed. “Well, consider this; how much do you value your life?”

“You’ve made your threats perfectly clear,” Holmes didn’t quite roll his eyes but he obviously wanted to. “I’ve yet to meet the other leaders, but you’ve given me a great deal to think about. Do you mind if I look around?”

“Of course not,” she said, back to quietly pleasant. “See what we do here. If you decide you want to help out, come find me.” She headed up the ramps winding up to the top of the mountain.

“Charming woman,” I muttered. We had a look around, scoping out the place. Didn’t find much except confirmation of the Disciples’ sadism. I ain’t the kind to ever wish harm on another person, but I was getting pretty damn close to making an exception for those people. We made our way out, back into the welcome sunlight.

Heading south through the park brought us to the Parlor next, a former dinner theater turned headquarters for the Operators. We’d overheard a couple Disciples ridiculing the Operators for caring about things like personal hygiene, which was a mark in their favor in my book. Add the fact that according to Gage the Operators cared most about caps, and I had the idea that a couple centuries ago these people would have been right at home in the mafia. Or the stock market.

A guard wearing armor over a suit stood outside the door, “You can head on inside, Overboss.”

We found a handful of Operators idling in the theater’s lobby, chatting or smoking a cigarette. They all eyed us curiously, but kept to themselves for now. Holmes stopped us just outside the open doors to the main hall. Just out of sight, someone was talking, and it didn’t take long to figure who the gossip was about.

“Sorry, boss. All that’s turned up is that he’s got that Pip-Boy on his arm.”

“So,” a woman spoke, “our new Overboss is a vault dweller.”

A different man from before added, “Or an iced vault dweller.”

Holmes and I shared a look. Had they heard of Holmes? Gage had made the Minutemen connection, but Holmes being on ice wasn’t always a detail folks were aware of. The woman considered this, and dismissed the messenger. We took our cue to make our entrance.

A platinum blonde with armor over a plaid suit stood by the stage, a bearded man next to her in the same sort of armor over a fancy suit of his own. “Well,” the woman said as we approached, “I guess we all owe you for taking down Colter.” She looked straight at me, kept her face neutral (which isn’t something most people can do the first time we meet), and ignored me. After some further critique of the former Overboss, she asked Holmes what it felt like when he killed the guy.

"How did it feel when I killed a madman in an electrified suit of armor trying to kill me?" Holmes responded. "I suppose the same adrenaline rush and ensuing relief that comes with any fight for my life."

It wasn't the answer they were looking for exactly, but the lady moved on and finally got around to introducing herself. "I'm Mags. This is my brother, William."

"Pleasure," he said like this was anything but. The feeling was mutual. Something about these two bugged me, a fragment of a memory just a bit too hazy to make out.

“Along with our co-conspirator Lizzie,” Mags continued, “we run this crew. We call ourselves the Operators.”

Mags’s big pitch was that the Operators were interested in one thing; money. Their methods were a touch more bloodthirsty than what the founders of Nuka-World had in mind, but what better place to make all the caps you can want? No lunatic bloodlust or animal instinct, just cold rationality and a willingness to do literally anything to make a cap.

“Then let me assure you,” Holmes said, “that enabling trade is my primary concern here in Nuka-World.”

That answer pleased William, but Mags was still skeptical, and rightfully so. Still, she said she was looking forward to it and told us to feel free to look around and speak to her if we were interested in lending a helping hand. So we looked around. Holmes wanted to meet their co-conspirator. Me, I was still wondering where the hell I’d heard the names Mags and William Black before.

The old dinner theater wasn’t in the best shape, but it could have been a heck of a lot worse. We found Lizzie in the kitchen with a chemistry setup. A quick glance through her terminal revealed a series of disturbing experiments on some sort of “persuasion formula.” Get settlers to do anything you tell them to, and I mean anything. Also made the connection of where I’d heard of them before.

“Valentine, these people lived in Diamond City,” Holmes looked at me like I’d been hiding this fact.

“Yeah, I see that.”

“You don’t remember them?”

“The names seemed familiar, but I haven’t been able to place them. Would have to have been decades ago, I’d think.”

Holmes’s curiosity had been piqued, so he set about trying to find more information. In typical Holmes fashion, he decided the most efficient way to do that was to break into the only locked door in the place.

It was Mags and William’s room. I wasted no time looking at the terminal while the nosy “Overboss” made sure no one gave us any trouble. Mags had a handy list of players in the park, details on all the gang leaders and people to be aware of. More interesting to us at the moment was the holotape from her mother on the desk.

“Now I remember!” I said. “The Blacks were an Upper Stands family, twenty years or more ago. Maggy and Bill were rowdy terrors, ran around with their friend Lizzie causing trouble. They were exiled when one of their classmates was found… well, it wasn’t pleasant.”

“Come now, Valentine—”

“Let’s just say I’m not surprised they turned raider, alright? Mr. and Mrs. Black left town soon after their kids were exiled, scared for their lives. My guess is they could see their children’s vengeance coming. Lizzie Wyeth… don’t remember much about her folks, if she had them, but she always seemed like a real smart kid. Guess she put that to use.”

“Then they must know who you are, surely?”

“That’d be my guess. Wonder what they make of the old synth from back home they used to make fun of, running around with a vault dweller.”

“I’m not in a particular rush to find out,” Holmes said and we made a quick exit back to the park.

“I’d like to talk to some of the traders next, if possible,” Holmes said as we walked. “I don’t think I can take interviewing the leader of the Pack just at the moment.”

“I don’t blame you,” I chuckled, “but I doubt the traders are going to make for cheerful conversation either.”

We headed to an enclosed space in the courtyard, which graffiti informed us was the market. Inside we saw stalls set up all along the walls, the familiar shouts of traders a little bit like home. Or they would have been, if it weren’t for the red light on the collar of every single one of them. Their customers were a handful of travellers who had somehow managed to make it here and pay whatever price necessary to not get killed. Raiders watched from scaffolding in the middle of the market, making sure business went smoothly. We made our way around, more to see the state of the traders than any interest in their goods. Came across a handyman named Chip who’d been in Nuka-World so long he wouldn’t know where to go even if he did get free. He talked about restoring power to the old park. After being here for twenty years, he hoped to get her running again somehow. It was kind of inspiring and damn depressing all at the same time.

Then we found the clinic. Dr. Mackenzie Bridgeman used to live in a settlement west of the amusement park. When Overboss Colter offered her a deal—work for him and he’d leave her settlement in peace—she agreed. The doc was naturally curious about the new guy in charge, and took a leap of faith when Holmes let slip he wasn’t too pleased with his new position. “Then this might be your chance to make some changes around here.”

“Such as?” Holmes asked.

“The gangs that call this place home are already at each other's throats.” She leaned closer. She couldn’t have looked more conspiratorial if she tried, but none of the raiders on watch seemed to care. “Now, you could risk your own neck and try to keep them from tearing each other apart, or you could do the right thing and put them in the ground. When it's all said and done, you're still running this place from your fancy house on the mountain over there. Except now, you won't have to sleep with a gun under your pillow.”

Holmes regarded her quietly for a moment. “I think you have the wrong idea about me, Dr. Bridgeman.”

Poor lady nearly had a heart attack, “Okay, okay, I get it boss…”

“Holmes, could you not terrorize the locals?” I scolded.

Drawing attention to myself had the intended effect; she was too startled to be scared. Holmes, for his part, was doing that sigh he does when he realizes he’s been a jerk. “I wasn’t trying to. Dr. Bridgeman, I fully intend to make the ‘changes’ you suggest, however it will not be for the purpose of ruling unchallenged from on high.” He waited for a raider to pass, and whispered, “I simply want to help if I can, and go home. Any advice you can give to help me do that would be appreciated.”

The doc breathed in relief, “Oh. Good. Well, if you're serious about this, then you'll have to take down the leaders of the gangs. That means putting a bullet into Nisha, Mason, Mags and Mags's brother, William. Once you do that, the gangs will collapse and Nuka-Town goes back to being a free trading post.” She looked around nervously, “I should uh, probably stop talking about this out here.”

Holmes smiled a little, “I think that would be wise, doctor. I make no promises, except that I will see what I can do.”

"Kill the raider leaders, restore power to the park for the traders," I muttered as we left the market, "sounds like a plan."

Holmes scoffed, "Not much of one.

“Heck of a lot better than what we had before.”

He smirked, “A fair point. It is progress, at least.”

Up next was the Amphitheatre, where the Pack was based. The guard informed us that “Mason’s been waiting for you,” and in we went. At this point, we felt ready for just about any variation on raider the park could throw at us.

We were not ready for a zoo.

Shouldn’t have been a surprise, really, with the Pack’s penchant for animal masks and costumes, but I definitely did not expect to see a caged ghoulish gorilla, a two-headed gazelle… and people. Dogs, mongrels, and mole rats walked around free, apparently tame, while a cage fight went on to spectator cheers between a dog and a mole rat. Watching over all this spectacle from his throne on the amphitheatre’s stage was the man that had to be Mason.

“Now that I get a good look at you, not sure I’m buying this new Overboss thing,” the mustachioed raider said. It was kind of hard to take him seriously in his furry pants and vibrant facepaint, until you remembered that there was a cage full of humans just across the way.

“I’ll send you my resume and references,” Holmes drawled, tired.

“The fuck’s a resume?” Mason demanded, then changed his mind, “Don’t matter. Name’s Mason, The Pack’s Alpha. This here is our side of town. You might be Overboss, for now, but I’m the boss of the Pack, and it’s gonna stay that way. Long as you don’t go forgetting that, we’re gonna be fine.”

Mason at least didn’t sound like he was giving us a sales pitch right off the bat, just questioning the new guy and a little show of bravado. He was also willing to talk a little about Gage and Colter, and made pretty clear that everyone knows Gage is the power behind the throne, and no one is happy about it. Holmes did ask eventually what exactly the Pack had that the others didn’t, apart from their fashion sense. Mason’s answer? “The Pack are the meanest sons of bitches you'll ever meet. We do whatever it takes. And we're fiercely loyal. The Operators will cut your throat as soon as they get what they want out of you. And the Disciples? Who the fuck knows what those crazy bitches want. There's something wrong with them. And you just can't trust someone who ain't willing to show you their face.”

I thought his opinion was probably on the mark, which was a surreal feeling. Always good to keep in mind that folks are often a lot smarter than they look. The last meeting of the day finished, we scoped out the backstage area of the amphitheater for the sake of thoroughness. The Pack’s living area was decorated with colored lights and animal trophies, a fine alternative to human body parts. Apart from the yao guai in a cage with three dead people around it.

By now the sun was setting, so we headed back to our, uh, quarters. Gage was waiting in the Overboss’s bar, and headed straight over to the lift when he heard us coming up. “You’re back, good. So—”

“Mr. Gage,” Holmes was in no mood, “I have just endured a day of kidnapping, fighting for my life through an obstacle course of deadly traps, and spending the entire day engaging in conversation with people I would rather see eaten by a deathclaw. I am going to sleep. We will discuss your plans in the morning.”

Gage didn’t like it, but he didn’t protest. I followed Holmes into Colter’s former quarters, and wondered if the man had been suffering from some sort of hallucinations when he decorated.

“You’ll stand watch?” Holmes asked as he removed the bulkiest pieces of armor.

“You have to ask?”

He smiled a little, “No. But I do anyway.”

I put a hand on his shoulder, let him come to me. Behind closed doors, he could let it all go. Fell against me, held me as close as I held him. I still have to fight back the fear that I’m gonna hurt him, metal isn’t made for cuddling, but it gets easier every time. “We’re gonna get out of this, partner,” I whispered.

“Of course we are,” he said with a hell of a lot more confidence than I think he felt. “It’s simply far more exhausting than I expected.”

“The hard part’s still to come.”

He sighed, “We’ll see what Gage expects from me next tomorrow morning, and make our plan from there.”

I kissed him lightly, and nudged him toward the bed, “Rest up. I’m watching over you all night, just like always.”

He managed to fall asleep eventually. I did exactly as I promised.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 2

A rough voice over the train's intercom introduced himself as Porter Gage. He informed us we'd been set up. Harvey had only told us half the truth; we were still headed for a death trap, but this Gage fella had a proposition for us if we survived whatever waited at the end. I can't say I was comforted, but at least the ride was something. Part of me hadn't expected the old track to take us all the way to the park, but it did the job. Just goes to show you shouldn't underestimate an old piece of machinery. You'd think I'd remember that, of all people.

It was a pretty grim locale we stepped off in. The place could give a super mutant nightmares. A manic voice over the ancient PA system announced two new contestants for something called The Gauntlet.

"Holmes, I hate to say I told you so, but…"

"Focus on surviving now, scold me later."

I chuckled.

"The Gauntlet" was a deadly obstacle course set up for raider entertainment. It was littered with bodies of unfortunate innocents who had been forced to run through it. We found out what had happened to those missing Gunners; none had made it out. One of them had been ready to make a run for it. One more mission, wait for a way out, and leave the Gunners forever. Start a new life. Makes my gears grind just thinking about it. The animals running this little event were in for a hell of a surprise.

Holmes and I didn't give them much of a show, being more concerned with disarming every trap we spotted than blowing ourselves to bits. The mirelurk pit was a surprise, and the gas chamber was a nasty touch. Never been so scared for my partner, seeing him choking to breathe as we scrambled to find a way to shut it off… but we did. We made it out, made it all the way to the big finale.

A battle with the boss of the raiders, gladiator style. He was in power armor. We were not.

Gage came on over an intercom in the locker room before the arena, such as it was. He wanted the guy in charge beat. Considering the guy in charge wanted to kill us, we were willing to take some advice. The arena used to be a bumper car ring, and the boss's power armor was hooked up to the electrical grid. Good thing Gage told us about a squirt gun in the locker room. Real helpful.

To say we were doubtful would be an understatement, but it wasn’t like we had much of a choice. Wouldn’t you know it, the damn thing worked? Holmes shorted out the armor, and we gave that tin can everything we’ve got. Helps to know a guy who teaches soldiers the best way to fight a suit of armor. The raider boss went down and didn’t get back up.

That wasn't exactly the ending the audience expected.

"Gage, what the hell just happened?" someone shouted.

To be honest, I didn't pay much attention to the uneasy crowd as I checked in with Holmes, "You hurt?"

"I'm fine, Valentine."

"Plan for getting out?"

Holmes suddenly froze, listening to the raiders, "I believe escape is going to be a great deal more complicated than expected."

Gage was addressing the crowd, "Hey, we talked about this! He survived the Gauntlet. He was smart enough to take my advice, and strong enough to kill Colter. He's what we need. So how about we show some respect for our new leader, eh?"

Their what?

The crowd hesitantly cheered, and Gage shooed them out, “All right, all right. Now, get the hell out of here. I'll show the boss around.” The crowd slowly dispersed as Holmes and I approached the raider sporting a scrap metal eye-patch. “What'd I tell you?” Gage grinned, “Worked like a charm.”

“So it seems,” Holmes said.

“Guess you really wanted the guy dead,” I muttered.

Gage glanced my way with a surprised chuckle and talked to Holmes, “I get that you have no idea what's going on, and everything is coming at you real fast, but you need to listen. Taking out Colter wasn't just a last minute decision, it was something a few of us here have been working on for a while. Now that he's actually gone, we've got ourselves a vacancy in the Overboss department. And guess what... you just got the job. All I'm asking is that you trust me on this and give it a shot. I swear it'll be worth it.”

“Why me?” Holmes asked.

“We'll get into that later. Now, I'm sure you got a lot of questions, but this ain't the place. Meet me at the Overboss'— your new quarters, the restaurant on top of good old Fizztop Mountain. We can talk there.”

He led the way out of the arena, and into Nuka-Town, USA.

First thing I saw was a robotic Bottle mascot walking around. Second thing I saw was a raider intimidating a woman in rags caught taking a nap. Third thing was the red light on the woman’s collar.

“Holmes,” I kept my voice low as we walked.

“I see it.”

“How the hell are we gonna get out, and how the hell are we gonna help?”

“I cannot make bricks without clay. Our best hope right now is to play along, keep from being killed by an entire park full of raiders, until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. We need more data before we can form a plan.”

And so we walked. The raiders left us alone, the people in slave collars tried not to be noticed. One of them couldn't have avoided us if he tried.

"Hey. Just wanted to say, no hard feelings, all right?" Harvey was the only person with a collar who wasn't in rags. My desire to punch the guy softened quite a bit, seeing that red light blinking on his neck. He was nervous, but mostly just tired. Hell, I felt sorry for him.

So did Holmes. "I know, Harvey, I understand."

"Thank God," Harvey breathed in relief. "If it's any consolation, I'm glad you made it. I lost my real family when Colter and his gangs took this place from us. Now, these traders are all I have left. They're my family now. Every time Colter sent me out to lure people into The Gauntlet, I didn't have a choice. I had to do it or he'd kill someone I cared about. I'm just... sorry you had to get caught up in all this."

"Did you ever fail to bring someone in?" Holmes asked.

Harvey shook his head, "Never. Couldn't afford to. It used to be me and another guy they'd send out. He thought he'd try and escape while he was out there… They found him and made him watch as they tortured and killed two of our own. Then they sent him through the Gauntlet themselves. After that, the choice was obvious. Like I said, I'm sorry you got caught up in all this."

"It's all right, Harvey," Holmes said softly, sort of like calming a wounded animal. "I understand."

"Good to hear, boss." Harvey managed a faint smile, "Never figured I'd find myself in this situation before. I thought for sure I'd be a goner. Well, better get back to it." And he went on his way.

It became clear as we walked that the raiders fell into at least three distinct groups. Some were decently dressed with a fondness for black, others were hooded and carried an assortment of knives with their firearms, and the third were the most colorful bunch, opting for animal head masks and bright outfits. All of them watched us curiously, and looked away when we noticed them. News of their Overboss's defeat must have spread.

And then there was the lady dressed like a Nuka-Cola souvenir shop.

Her name was Sierra Petrovita, and she came all the way from the Capital Wasteland for a chance to find the original Nuka-Cola formula. Supposedly, she runs a museum. Somehow, I had a feeling the museum ran a little more toward personal obsession, but who am I to judge? In order to find the Nuka-Cola formula, she figured she had to collect a code hidden in pieces all over the park. Find the pictures of the co-mascot Cappy, look at them through special glasses, and see the clues. It sounded like something out of an old-time radio show challenge for kids. She took it seriously.

Holmes sighed as he accepted a pair of bottlecap-shaped sunglasses and a holotape of hints, “If I see any, I’ll let you know.”

We moved on.

“She’s gonna get herself killed,” I muttered.

“The raiders won’t let her leave the immediate area,” Holmes said, “so likely she’ll get bored before going home.”

“You really think that woman is going to leave before she finds what she’s looking for?”

“... You have a point.”

We finally reached Fizztop Mountain, an external lift waiting to take us up to the restaurant on the top. Gage was waiting for us.

“Welcome home, boss. The digs are yours now—hope you like the look. Colter had some peculiar tastes. But this view is something, huh?”

You could see the whole park, which was certainly something. Holmes glanced around, nonchalantly checking for any way out that wasn’t straight down. There wasn’t one. “You still haven’t explained why you would put me in charge?”

Gage sneered, “You may have noticed that our former Overboss, Colter, was a fuckin' asshole. And that's me being nice. Ended up being poison for this whole operation.” He shrugged, “Way I see it, surviving the Gauntlet means you got what it takes. Or at least the potential. For a good while now, we've needed someone who can get shit done. Make real progress.”

"You've gotta be kidding," I said.

He glanced at me, then back at Holmes. "Seen a couple Institute robots once or twice years ago, but never with clothes on. The robots are creepy as shit, but Institute tech sure is fun to play with, huh?”

“Mr. Gage, kindly explain what the bloody hell is going on,” Holmes fumed, “before I lose my patience.”

“I just told you!” Gage sighed, “Ok, listen. There are three raider gangs that run the show at Nuka-World— the Disciples, the Operators, and the Pack. And yeah, if the names didn't give it away, these ain't your typical raiders, and these morons don't exactly play nice with each other. Thanks to Colter, this place is a powder keg just waiting to blow sky high. One wrong move, and we're going to have a bloodbath on our hands. I think you have what it takes to turn things around and keep these gangs from tearing each other apart.”

Holmes raised an eyebrow, “And why would I do that?”

Gage grinned, “Oh, come on. It ain't that hard to see. You take whatever you want, from whoever you want. Anybody has a problem with that, you cut 'em down. You telling me that doesn't sound like even just a little bit of fun to you?”

“Not in the least.”

Gage scowled, but something clearly clicked and he… I wouldn’t say smiled, but it was the sort of thing you see a punk do when he thinks he’s got you beat. “You know, I've heard about you. Took me a minute, but leader-type runnin’ around with a synth? In charge of the Minutemen, ain't ya? No idea why you'd waste your time with those has-beens. I ain't no genius, but far as I'm concerned, history already proved what they're after ain't gonna work. But this? Nuka-World... Shit, this was the dream. Huge, built like a goddamn fortress. You run this, the world is yours. And, uhh, you try and leave now... that ain't gonna go over so well.”

Holmes frowned, “I see.”

Gage tried to smooth things over, be chummy. “Look, I know these gangs. Been workin' with them or against them for years now. I'll help you, okay? Walk you through everything.”

Holmes was quiet for a long time. “Tell me about the gangs,” he said.

Gage took this to be a good sign. “Quite the assorted bunch,” he nodded. "All used to hate each other, and I guess maybe they still do to a degree. Took a shitload of work to get them all on board with this idea, so I really don't want to lose them now. If I were you, I'd start with the Disciples. They might all be crazy - probably are, in fact - but Nisha has her reasonable moments. Then you've got the Operators. Spoiled rich kids, but doesn't mean they ain't ruthless killers. If you can impress Mags, she'll listen to you. And then there's The Pack. I'm not sayin' they're savages, but... well, shit. They're savages. I don't know how Mason keeps them on a leash. Now, first thing you gotta do is get the gangs behind you. Without them supporting you, you're not getting shit done. You don't have to trust 'em. Hell, you don't even have to like 'em. But you need them to respect you enough to follow you.”

“And your advice for how I should go about it?” Holmes asked.

Gage huffed, stern, “The Disciples like violence. The bloodier, the better. Tell 'em they'll get plenty of it. The Operators are in it mostly for the money. They get promised caps, they'll listen to you. The Pack... Hell, I don't know. They follow whoever they think is the strongest. Show some teeth, I guess. Look, technically you're already the new Overboss, right? That's like, half the work done right there. Just... meet the leaders. Talk with 'em, flex your muscles a little. Show 'em you mean business.”

“I’ll need some time to think it over.”

The raider didn’t care for that answer, but he wasn’t willing to give up yet. “Shit... Okay, okay. Just, don't take too long, all right? I'll do my best to hold things together, but don't leave me hanging here. And don't mistake the gangs out here for being the same as those Commonwealth saps. Gangs out here, they got agendas. And they're gonna expect results. You can't afford to forget that.”

“I understand. I will want to see more of the park before I decide on my next course of action. I won’t ‘leave you hanging.’”

We got on the lift and made our way back down to the ground.

“Fine mess this is,” I sighed.

Holmes nodded. “For now, I believe we have no choice but to play along. We’ll meet the leaders, interview the traders enslaved here, explore the park in search of any possible way out or resources that might help us.”

I hated to ask my next question, but, well. Being a dad added a new dimension to life-threatening missions. “You talked to Preston and Danse about Shaun, right?”

The slightest shift in his expression, a wince you’d never see if you weren’t looking for it, and he was all business, “Of course. They’re more than willing to act as guardians, should the need ever arise.” He laughed, just a little, “So is everyone else in Sanctuary, for that matter. You asked Liam about Shaun seeing the Minutemen Research Center in Covenant?”

“Of course I did,” I resisted the urge to take his hand. “They’ll be happy to show him around, once we get out of here.”

“Of course,” he nodded once, and the emotions went cold. Holmes was focused on getting out of this death trap alive, and God help those who stood in our way.

[fallout4holmes]

Nuka-World 1

(I never posted the Nuka-World chapters here on tumblr, only on ao3. I thought I should remedy that.)

The detective's life isn't an easy one, but it rarely lacks for excitement. Even with the new stability brought about with the destruction of the Institute and the rise of the Minutemen, you still see a lot of folks at their worst in my line of work. Hard to not let it get to you sometimes. For decades, I’d tell myself all the bad in the world was all the more reason for me to keep fighting. I don’t think I always believed it, but it got me through. These days, what gets me through is knowing I’m not in the fight alone.

It still feels a little weird, leaving the Agency at night. I lived in that office for… well, a long time. Ellie’s still in the room upstairs, and she lets me know if any late night panicked customers turn up. Of course, everyone in town knows where my partner and I live, but we still insist that Agency business be done at the Agency. The only interruptions to our domestic life at home are the ones caused by the experiments of an eleven-year old boy and whatever Minutemen summons might come on over the radio.

Or, as was the case after supper one evening, an old ad for a theme park that hadn’t existed in two-hundred years.

 “Hiya, kids! Remember, Nuka-World is only open for a few more weeks in October! Come down and see me and Cappy one last time before buckling down for the winter. Don't forget to bring your empty bottle of Nuka-Cola to get 15 dollars off at the gate! So hop aboard the Nuka-Express and come and see the whole Nuka family while you still can!

 The Nuka-Express is accessible through the Nuka-World Transit Center. Parking fees will apply. Prices subject to change due to end of season. Nuka-World, Nuka-Express, and the Nuka-Cola characters are all registered trademarks of the Nuka-Cola Corporation.”

“What was that?!” asked Shaun, bewildered.

I was pretty damn confused myself. I looked across the room at the man with his hand on the dial… and sighed. “I know that look.”

Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Destroyer of the Institute, General of the Minutemen, partner of Valentine's Detective Agency, and my personal partner for life, is a proud father, a good man, and a damn fine detective. Everyone in the Commonwealth knows that at this point. What a lot people don’t know, is that he’s easily bored and I don’t mean your average ‘nothing to do on a Tuesday night’ sort of boredom. The man lives for work, for a challenge to overcome, a puzzle to unravel. It’s part of what makes him so brilliant. It’s also part of what makes loving him an occasional challenge.

That light was in his eyes as he asked me, “Do you not find anything strange or suspect about a theme park ad suddenly appearing on the radio?”

“It's either a bot with a glitch in its programming or a bunch of raiders got creative with their set-up.”

“If it's the former, no harm done, if it's the latter, it should be dealt with sooner rather than later.”

I chuckled, “I'm not arguing with you, Holmes. Just waiting for the moment when you tell me you're running off.”

That softened him a bit. “Ha. You ran off on a case two weeks ago.”

“Kidnappings are time-sensitive, we both know that.”

He smiled, “A fair point. I suppose there’s no point in asking you to stay behind?”

“None whatsoever.”

I’ve learned over the past couple years that that annoyed huff of his is all show, at least where I’m concerned. “If this transit center mentioned is the same as the one as before the War, then it's far west, slightly southwest of the Sunshine Tidings Co-Op.”

Shaun raised an exasperated hand, “But what’s Nuka-World?”

“A theme-park,” Holmes said. “Before the War, the Nuka-Cola corporation spent a great deal of time and money to build various amusements based on their products for customers to come spend even more money.”

“The less cynical answer,” I said as I lit a cigarette, “is that theme parks had rides, games, shows, all sorts of entertainment for families to spend a whole day pretending they’re someplace really special. Kids loved ‘em. Parents, not always quite so much, though I guess that depends on the kid and the parent.”

“So,” Shaun reasoned, “a bunch of raiders are in a theme park.”

“Probably,” I nodded.

He frowned, “Why?”

I shrugged, “Why not? Walls, lots of buildings, be sort of like living in an easily defensible Nuka-Cola themed city.”

“Is anyone really going to think that advertisement is real?”

“Hopefully not,” Holmes said, “but some people may investigate out of curiosity, desperation, or go in search of salvage from the park. If raiders are broadcasting, then they’re far more organized than any local group, and that could be remarkably dangerous.”

“We’re headed off in the morning, then?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“I’ll let Preston know his General will be out of the Commonwealth once again.”

“And convince him you don’t need an escort.”

“Indeed. Though I will suggest he increase the Minutemen presence in the western settlements, temporarily. Just in case.”

It was enough of a plan to start with, and in the morning we headed west to the Nuka-World Transit Center.

We’d been worried folks might get curious and come looking. We were right, but not quite the people we were expecting. Gunners were poking around the Transit Center, and their commander had orders that mentioned a missing recon team. Apparently some Gunners went to Nuka-World and never came back.

Real shame, that.

A man sat on the platform of the station, muttering about someone going to die and clutching his bloody stomach. His name was Harvey, and he and his family had been fooled by raiders, led to Nuka-World under the promise of a friendly settlement. His plan was to escape and return with help, but a bullet wound stopped his progress. His family were still there, and were certain to be killed when the raiders discovered he was gone.

That was his story, anyway.

Holmes knew something was up when the guy refused a stimpak, not something that tends to happen when a person is supposedly bleeding out. Harvey gave in quick under pressure; he was a fraud working for the raiders to lure more people to Nuka-World. He was tired of acting as their stooge, but had no desire to die or get anyone else killed. Naturally, Holmes volunteered to go to Nuka-World and take care of the problem.

"Now wait a minute," I said, "before we hop on this train and go barreling off, you think we could call in some reinforcements?"

"If someone doesn't go back soon, then people are gonna start dying," Harvey said. "I've seen it happen."

The fear seemed real, and that was reason enough for Holmes. "We'll resupply with what we can from the Gunners and whatever may still be in this place, but we haven't a moment to waste, Valentine."

"Don't think I'd call security against walking into a trap a 'waste,'" I grumbled.

"If more than a few people step off the train, the raiders will get suspicious," Harvey said, "and suspicious raiders get violent."

He had a point. I admitted as much, and Holmes asked how we get the train running. After looting the Gunner bodies for ammo and supplies, we stepped aboard.

We were off.

And, naturally, we were trapped.

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 59

The preparations took weeks, but regiment by regiment the Brotherhood of Steel began the march home. Preston, Danse, and Valentine returned home long before, while I stayed in Cambridge to coordinate supply runs and as a gesture of goodwill. Paladin Brandis took it upon himself to act as a sort of liaison between me and the more stubborn soldiers. Proctor Teagan was just glad to have a willing source of supplies who wasn’t going to charge him an arm and a leg. I tried not to interact much with anyone else.

Preston and Danse came back to Cambridge on the final day of the Brotherhood’s departure. They claimed it was to escort me home. I believe that to be true, but more significantly I think Danse wanted to say goodbye.

We stood down the street from the police station, watching the final preparations. A Scribe hurried over to us, “General Holmes?”

“Scribe Haylen,” I greeted.

“When you see Deacon again, could you tell him I said thank you for helping me out? He distracted the Proctors when I was almost caught for jamming the communications array.”

“When you what?” Danse exclaimed. It was fortunate we were a distance away from the rest of the Brotherhood.

Haylen was offended, “It seemed like the only way to prevent the war was to stop the orders from coming through! How was I supposed to know no orders would be coming?"

Danse was astounded, “Why would you do something so foolish? If you’d been caught, your career would have been over, if not your life!”

Haylen stood tall and firmly stated, “Former commanding officer of mine always taught that I should stand by my principles, no matter what, sir.”

Danse was silent a solid two seconds as Preston and I tried not to smile. “Hmph. Well, he’s an idiot…” he softened with a small laugh, “a grateful and damn proud one.”

Haylen smiled. “Thank you, sir.”

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Preston quietly suggested.

“Thank you, Colonel, but no. I need to go home.” She took Danse’s hand, “I'm glad to have known you, sir.”

“I feel the same.” He let go, “Take care of yourself, Haylen.”

“I will,” she said, and hurried off.

We watched in silence as the last vertibird took flight back toward the Capital Wasteland, the last caravan of soldiers marching south. The Brotherhood of Steel had left the Commonwealth.

Danse removed his helmet. “It’s strange, seeing them leave. I’m not as upset as I thought I would be.”

“You’ve a life to look forward to here,” I smiled. “A brave new world, all over again.”

Preston grinned, “Time to get back to work.”

After the Brotherhood's departure, the Railroad was free to spread out from the Boathouse as a less clandestine organization and more of a community service for synths. There are still plenty of people in the Commonwealth who are afraid of synths and react with anger upon their discovery, but without the Institute and without the Brotherhood to literally hunt them down, the Railroad has less and less reason to relocate them, and more and more reason to help educate the populace.

Liam Binet decided to move into the remains of Covenant, and turn the now overgrown and rundown settlement into a Minutemen Research Center. He was disturbed by the human remains littering the ground outside of town, and paled when I told him of the town's former purpose. Tinker Tom rigged an explosion to safely collapse the tunnel to the Compound; Liam wanted no part of that legacy of horror. Institute refugees were welcomed, along with any settler willing to apply themselves and learn what the scientists could teach. I insisted upon complete transparency, and Sturges and Curie both will make regular trips to see what progress is being made.

Isabel Cruz has thus far proven good to her word, working with Ada to design robots to defend settlements and assist with Minutemen patrols. As for the Minutemen themselves, Colonel Garvey plans on making regular trips to the Castle, though his office will remain in Sanctuary. Lieutenant Colonel Danse will also continue to oversee the training of the new recruits in Sanctuary. The current system in place works, and has even become a rite of passage for the new generation of recruits. The Minutemen grow stronger every day, and I can think of no two better people to guide them.

Two weeks after the Brotherhood of Steel left the Commonwealth, Valentine and I brought Shaun, Codsworth, and of course Dogmeat, on a trip to Sanctuary. Hancock and Cait escorted Piper and Nat at the same time, making quite the merry crowd on the trip north. We arrived at Sanctuary to see even MacCready and Duncan had been invited, and Deacon was there as well. Curie was bustling about the town, overseeing soldiers and townspeople alike as they decorated and prepared food.

I must admit, I was a bit nervous. Danse and Preston had asked me to perform the greatest honor I could imagine as their General, and more importantly, as their friend. I even dusted off my official uniform for the occasion. Valentine joked I should feel right at home, “seeing as how you’ve got experience impersonating a priest.” Oddly, it didn’t put me at ease.

Well, it was nearing time for the event, and neither groom was anywhere to be seen. Valentine went to check on Danse, while Sturges went to find Preston.

.......................

“Hey, Danse? You ok…” Nick trailed off into a quiet chuckle at the sight of Danse scowling at his reflection, a tie hanging twisted and undone around his neck. “Here, lemme do that.” Danse sighed and allowed Nick to help. “Never learned how to tie one of these things, did you?”

“Why would I?” Danse demanded, exasperated. “Neither of my uniforms required them.”

“Good point. Didn't want to wear your uniform?”

Danse looked down over his grey suit and blue vest, the same colors of his armor. “In a way, this is a different sort of uniform. I don't anticipate wearing this again.” Nick finished and stepped back. Danse looked in the mirror… and sighed, “Why am I doing this?”

Nick’s brow rose, “Thought this was your idea?”

“It was. I thought… clearly, I was malfunctioning on some level.”

“Hm. Can't say I've ever had a malfunction that made me propose to the fella I loved when I didn't want to.” Danse crossed his arms with rolled eyes, and then set to straightening his already straight jacket. Nick smiled, “Don't tell me you're nervous?”

“No. This is just,” he glanced at the window, “more than I thought.”

“You mean the party waiting? Hell, first marriage Sanctuary's seen, can't blame folks for wanting to celebrate.”

“I don't, but it's… uncomfortable. Valentine, why haven't you and Holmes married?”

Nick blinked. “You know, I think it just never occurred to us? Been living together, and Shaun became like a son to me so fast… guess I slipped into being married without stopping to think about it.” Nick paused a moment, “You wanna elope?”

Danse was confused, “What?”

“Skip all this, run out of town with your man down to Diamond City, have the reverend say a few quick words, honeymoon anywhere you want?”

Danse grinned, “Abandon my duties?”

That brought a warm chuckle. “Not even for love, huh?”

“Not for what is supposed to be a symbol of devotion and affection,” Danse clarified. “I know Preston would agree.”

“Suit yourself,” Nick shrugged. “Why'd you wanna do the symbol of devotion and affection anyway?”

Danse was quiet a long moment, looking off to the side but not really seeing what was in front of him. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. I'm not very good at telling him… it felt like something I should do.”

“He knows you love him, Danse. You've told him that much, at least?”

Danse chuckled, “Yes. But a wedding felt like a promise, with all the weight the ritual places on it. Something I can hold in memory, a…” he grasped for a fitting description, and when he found it he looked at Nick like he’d discovered something amazing. “It’s an initiation. Of sorts,” he faltered, sighing, “That sounds idiotic.”

“Nope,” Nick said.

“Really?”

Nick nodded with a smile, “Really. You ready?”

Danse took a deep breath and nodded. “Yes.”

Sturges hurried to find Preston. Danse was using their house, so Preston was in Sturges’s place. Why the hell the two people getting married couldn’t be in the same room he didn’t know, but Curie had been insistent that this was some sort of old tradition, and the two lovebirds had actually liked the idea. “Hey boss, you ready… oh c'mon, you ain't even dressed?!”

Preston stared at him, confused, “What do you mean?”

“Danse is in a suit.”

Preston looked at his uniform, “… shit. A suit? Fuck.”

“You didn't even look in the box, did you?”

“What box?!”

“The box with your name on it? Compliments of Anne Hargraves?”

Preston rushed to the box on the dresser Sturges was pointing to, opened it, and said, “…oh.”

Sturges rolled his eyes, “Man sees a custom made suit and he says ‘oh.’ Hustle, boss, the bride's waiting.”

“Don't let Danse hear you call him the bride.”

“Don't think he's gonna care, now hurry up. What the hell have you been doing in here?”

“Thinking. Pacing. Mostly thinking. Is he really waiting?”

Sturges glanced out the window, “He just stepped outside, folks are talking, you're not that late.”

“Late to my own wedding. Holy shit I'm having a wedding.”

Sturges smirked, “Sure are, boss. Kinda surprised Danse suggested it.”

“So was I. But it seemed important and… and yeah, I wanna spend the rest of my life with him. I love him.”

“This what you were thinking about when you should have been getting dressed?”

Preston laughed a little, sheepish, “Yeah. Still can't believe… any of it. That this is how my life is turning out.”

He looked in the mirror. The blue suit fit perfect, the grey vest reminding him of the Minutemen flag. He straightened the tie, it had been ages since he’d worn one, and Sturges put a hand on Preston’s shoulder.

“Glad you stuck with us, Preston.”

Preston smiled, “So am I.”

Sturges grinned, “C'mon lover boy, let's get you out there. Rest of your life is waiting.”

.......................

I’ve seen multiple weddings, some of which I was even invited to, and this one surpassed them all by far. The unbridled joy on their faces after the wedding kiss was a sight to behold. They didn’t leave each other’s side the entire evening. Preston even taught Danse to dance, a simple slow sway to a song on the radio, but dance just the same. Stories were told, multiple people produced packs of cards, the wine flowed freely, as well as some stronger substances courtesy of Mayor Hancock, but he also kept stock of who had had enough. The night was growing late when Preston suddenly interrupted Danse recounting a battle to a handful of recruits to kiss him, deeply. Danse’s expression completely changed, the recruits giggled maniacally, and set to ensure the newlyweds would leave the party immediately and unhindered.

“About time,” Valentine said to me as Danse and Preston hurried home. As I laughed, he put his arm around my shoulders, “Why haven’t we ever done this?”

“I am perfectly content to support my friends, but I can’t imagine being the focus of such an event.”

“We could always elope.”

I smiled, “Do you have a sudden desire to get married, Nick?”

He chuckled, “Not particularly, Sherlock. Just a question we never asked, is all.”

“I see. In that case, Nick Valentine, do you promise to have me as your partner, to love, comfort, and honor, in sickness and in health, as long as we both shall live?”

He smiled, small, and his eyes seemed to glow a little brighter. “I do.”

It is strange the emotion that so simple a phrase can elicit. “So do I.”

We left the party, made sure our son was sound asleep in bed, and followed the example of the newlyweds.

I am not so naive as to think the future will be easy. The Minutemen have made great progress, but there are still plenty of cold and bitter hearts and minds in the Commonwealth. Yet no matter what challenges we may face, no matter how strong the winds of conflict and war, as long as there are people who value compassion and justice before all else then a cleaner, stronger land will lie in the sunshine when the storm has cleared. We'll make sure of it.

[fallout4holmes]

Journal 58

Valentine and I made our way through Boston, four of the Mechanist’s— rather, Ms. Cruz’s— robots in tow. Bunker Hill was locked up tight for the impending violence; even the raiders seemed quieter than usual. The whole city felt like it was holding its breath.

An explosion came from the direction of the Old North Church. We hurried on, leaving the Brotherhood to their raid which would yield nothing, and soon heard a missile fire to the south; Goodneighbor was under attack.

The Neighborhood Watch fired on their attackers from behind their walls, riddled with laser burns but still intact. The Brotherhood fired from Mass Fusion’s windows, from behind corners and makeshift cover. A Brotherhood soldier in power armor charged the door, which swung open to reveal Fahrenheit and her minigun firing at point blank range. The soldier staggered but fired back as he fell, sending her to the ground as the door was slammed shut again. I ordered our robots to join the fight, and over the wall of the town appeared Mayor Hancock, a Gatling laser in hand, with a bandaged Fahrenheit beside him. They unleashed a spray of lasers and bullets on the forces below. A soldier with a missile launcher took aim, and was tackled by one of our robots with electrified blades for arms.

Then Kleo appeared on the roof of the State House. The assaultron arms dealer held a modified missile launcher, which she fired into the Mass Fusion building as her laser charged. The Brotherhood focused all their fire on her, but Hancock and Fahrenheit were relentless in their assault on the ground forces as the remaining soldiers in the building were forced to exit by Kleo’s attack. The Neighborhood Watch shot through every gap in the wall they could fit a gun barrel through. The street was a sea of bullets.

Valentine and I watched the massacre from around a corner, taking shelter behind crumbled concrete. The silence that followed as the last Brotherhood soldier fell was as deafening as the battle.

Valentine stepped out of our cover, moving forward slowly. “Hancock? I’d appreciate not gettin’ shot today.”

“Nick! Stand down, everyone, it’s over. Fahr, make sure anyone hurt gets the help they need. Nick, Holmes with you?”

“I am,” I followed Valentine out.

Hancock disappeared behind Goodneighbor’s wall and was soon out its door to meet us in the street, “I just want you to know, it wasn’t our fault.”

Valentine and I glanced at each other. “What wasn’t?”

“The attack. We didn’t shoot first, it was those fucking mutants down the street, decide to get bored and—”

“Hancock,” I interrupted, “start again.”

Hancock was a spring of tightly wound anger as he pointed to each part of the story he told, “Mutants. Down the road. Decide to have some fun. Walked up to Mass Fusion, started shooting the ‘bucketheads.’ One of my guys hears the shooting, decides he’s gonna take some shots at mutants, and sure enough the Brotherhood decide a stray bullet’s a full fucking attack and we’re getting shot at from all directions. So now all those goddamn tin soldiers are dead.”

I saw the super mutant corpses by the Mass Fusion building. So much blood spilled over a mistake. “Damn it… wait. Maxson hasn’t given the order to attack yet?”

Hancock shrugged dramatically, “Guess not?”

I frowned, “What’s stopping him? What could he possibly be waiting for…” I hurried into Goodneighbor, “I need to borrow Kent’s radio.”

There was some interference over the signal, but I was able to make contact with Radio Freedom; Liberty Prime had been activated, and shortly afterward Maxson's vertibirds had attacked the Castle. The Castle returned fire as the airport was destroyed in a massive explosion, taking Prime down and the Prydwen with it. It was unclear which event resulted in the destruction of the other, but the important information was that both Liberty Prime and the Prydwen were destroyed. The attacking vertibirds had all been shot down. There were no survivors.

"We need to get to the Castle as quickly as we can," I said to Valentine on our way out of town, "I need to hear all the reports of Brotherhood activity as they come in, and hopefully we can deduce Maxson's strategy."

"'No survivors suggests—"

"I don't believe for a minute that Maxson perished on the Prydwen. He knew activating Liberty Prime would bring the Prydwen's destruction, and he didn't strike me as suicidal when we last spoke."

"Alright, then where is he?"

“We won’t find out waiting here.”

Hancock wished us luck and remained behind to see to his people. Our robots had unfortunately all been destroyed in the fight, so Valentine and I continued on alone. There were no vertibirds overhead as we moved south, or any other sign of a Brotherhood presence in the city.

Raiders were still in residence as we passed Andrew Station, and already harassing another pair of passersby. Unfortunately for the raiders, the two men were friends of mine, and capable soldiers at that.

"You'd think power armor would give a raider with a pipe pistol reason to pause," Valentine said as we joined the fight.

"I think they consider it a challenge," I said as Danse cleanly executed the raider in question.

Preston was supporting him from a range, ducking behind whatever cover he could find. They were an effective team; I would have expected nothing less.

“General!” Preston shouted as he saw us, “Guess you stopped the Mechanist?”

“She’s working for us now!” I drew my blade and stopped the raider charging me as Valentine shot the one behind us.

Preston laughed, “Of course she is!”

We focused on the fight and soon the last raider fell. Danse approached us, "Thank you for the assist, General. Are you headed to the Castle?"

"I am," I nodded. "I presume you are as well?"

"Sanctuary's secure," Preston said, "and we thought we'd be of more use in the fight."

"Then you haven't heard." They looked at each other, and then at me. I sighed, "The Prydwen and Liberty Prime were both destroyed."

Preston's brow rose. I couldn't see Danse's expression through his helmet. I wished I could have.

I continued, "There was an unsuccessful vertibird attack on the Castle. None of the Brotherhood soldiers survived, with minimal casualties to the Minutemen. I don't know what Maxson's plan was, or where he currently is. I find it hard to believe he would have stayed behind on the Prydwen when he knew it would be the Castle's primary target."

Danse turned his head to look away a moment, then looked at me again. "The likeliest possibilities are that he led the attack on the Castle, or he relocated, likely to Cambridge."

"We'll see if the Castle has gathered any more information when we arrive," I said, and we continued on.

"General?" Preston asked, "Did Deacon get those Squires off the Prydwen?"

"I don't know." I sighed, "There's a great deal of information I wish I had."

"We're all doing what we can with what we've got," Valentine quietly said.

We made it to the Castle with minimal trouble, the usual wildlife and unsavory residents of Boston our only hindrances. The Castle's walls were damaged but still standing, the wrecks of vertibirds scattered across soil, sand, and water. The bodies of Brotherhood soldiers lay near the wrecks and by the Castle gates. I saw Danse looking at them as we walked. He softly answered Preston's quiet concern, "I don't recognize any of them."

There was some commotion inside the Castle as we neared. Our arrival was being announced; Ronnie Shaw greeted us as we entered. "General. Wasn't expecting the Colonel and Lieutenant Colonel, too, but glad to see. I imagine you'll want to talk to him."

I was a bit alarmed, "Speak to whom, Ms. Shaw?"

She shrugged and lit a cigarette, "Well. Turns out we might have jumped the gun when we said there were no survivors."

There had been one survivor. He sat on the floor of the cell with what might have been stoic patience were it not for the smoldering annoyance in his glare. He'd nearly died; he owed his life to Curie's improved stimpaks and Strong's enthusiasm for sharing the flesh of his enemy with "Minutemen brothers," bringing him inside the walls and enabling Ms. Shaw to recognize he needed medical attention.

Elder Arthur Maxson did not appreciate the irony.

None of the Minutemen in the Castle knew who he was, and why would they? They'd never seen him, and Maxson had remained perfectly silent since they put him in a cell.

I spoke to him alone. "Elder."

"General. Paladin Brandis told me you sent an agent to take the Squires off the Prydwen."

That was not the first thing I'd expected him to say. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Because if I could prevent the death of a child, it was worth the risk. I would have preferred to prevent the death of anyone, but neither of us were willing to compromise our fundamental values."

"What sort of people would we be if we had?" It was a question that required no answer. Maxson stood, "It was unnecessary, I evacuated the airport and Prydwen. The Squires would have been sent to Cambridge anyway."

"I'm glad to hear that. I had no way of being certain of that at the time."

Maxson merely nodded.

I was tired. "Elder Maxson, if I bring the leader of the Railroad here and obtain her promise that synths will not be clandestinely sent to the Capital Wasteland, will the Brotherhood of Steel leave the Commonwealth?"

"No. We will leave because we have an entire eastern seaboard to explore. We will leave because the Prydwen and our greatest weapon were destroyed, weaknesses exposed that will be remedied. We will leave so that we can evolve, and not fall into the stagnation that plagued our West Coast brethren. We will leave because the means of producing synths is gone, as it should be. If a synth is ever discovered in the Capital Wasteland, or anyplace the Brotherhood have a presence, it will be destroyed."

"Understood."

"It would be easier to transport my forces if you hadn’t blown up my ship."

"If you hadn’t activated Liberty Prime, it wouldn’t have been destroyed."

"I didn’t.”

That surprised me, “I beg your pardon?”

His jaw was set, I could practically hear his teeth grind as he admitted, “Someone disobeyed orders.”

The admission was shocking. “You’ve no idea whom?”

“I have my suspicions, but I won’t know until I hear who is present and accounted for in Cambridge.”

“Of course. Speaking of Cambridge, we’ll be happy to escort you there, Elder. Any help the Minutemen can provide to expedite the Brotherhood of Steel's departure will be given. I'll inform the Minutemen to let the Brotherhood leave."

"If I can borrow your radio tower, I'll order the Brotherhood to assemble in Cambridge without engaging Minutemen forces."

"And hopefully none of our soldiers will disobey orders."

"Mine won't," he said with perfect confidence, and a look in his eyes that eloquently expressed what would happen to those who had.

I retrieved the keys from the solitary guard and escorted Elder Maxson to the Castle courtyard. The Minutemen looked at us curiously as we passed. Preston, Danse, and Valentine were all gathered near Radio Freedom talking with Shaw. Danse held his helmet under his arm. Maxson frowned, and pointedly looked elsewhere.

As they saw us coming, Valentine’s eyes went wide. Preston’s jaw dropped. Danse winced, closed his eyes with a deep breath, and his expression cleared. He focused on me and said, “Shaw has been filling us in regarding activity across the Commonwealth. All of our settlements have reported a stand-off of sorts; the Brotherhood of Steel soldiers are clearly present and awaiting orders to attack. Our men are growing…” he permitted himself a slight smile, “restless. To quote a recent report from Mr. MacCready, ‘Been aiming at these bastards for hours, when do I get to shoot someone?’”

“Then there’s no time to waste,” I said. “Ms. Shaw, permit me to present Elder Arthur Maxson of the Brotherhood of Steel. He and I will use Radio Freedom to signal our respective forces to stand down.”

 Everyone stared.

 “Huh,” said Shaw. “Younger than I imagined. Well, ain’t how I thought all this would end, but I don’t see why that should surprise me anymore. You just tell me what you need from the Castle. Til then, I’m going to see to those repairs and check on our wounded, if that’s alright with you?”

 I smiled, “Perfectly, Ms. Shaw. Thank you.”

 “Question." Valentine asked, "What happens after your respective armies peacefully stand down?”

 I looked at Maxson for the answer. He clearly didn't like addressing a machine, but I suppose he thought it was better than risking insult. "The Brotherhood of Steel are leaving the Commonwealth."

 "Are you serious?" Preston exclaimed. Danse was silently thunderstruck. Preston continued, "After everything, you're just… giving up?"

 "The Railroad are scattered, their headquarters destroyed. The Institute is long gone, the ability to produce more synths with them. The Brotherhood of Steel cannot afford to pour more resources into a single region of the coast so far removed from the Capital, and I have no intention of letting a single obsession dictate the Brotherhood's long-term goals. Good luck with your corner of the world, Colonel. May the Minutemen be content with it."

 "And God help the synth that wanders southward," Valentine drawled.

 "Exactly," Maxson said.

 Preston let his breath out slow and shrugged, still amazed, "Ok. Let's get you on your way."

 We issued our orders. Valentine, Danse, Preston, and I would escort Elder Maxson to Cambridge, and we would organize the departure of the Brotherhood. I informed Ms. Shaw of the Mechanist's identity and intention to work for the Minutemen. Maxson smirked when he overheard, unsurprised.

 "Institute scientists, mercenaries, abominations, and now a robotics terrorist," he said as we set off from the Castle. “Is there anyone you don’t recruit?”

 “Gunners, raiders, super mutants unacquainted with the works of Shakespeare, and Brotherhood soldiers.”

 He made an amused sound.

 “This is surreal,” Preston muttered.

 Danse chuckled, then slowed his pace, “Ferals ahead,” he reported, and he and Preston took the lead in eliminating them.

 The rest of the trip was quiet and relatively uneventful, though there were plenty of occasions to witness Elder Maxson’s skill in battle; not once did he shy from combat. I was glad that at no point did I ever have to fight this young man. He ignored Danse the entire time, maintaining his promise that Danse was dead to him. Danse did not attempt to engage.

 It was night by the time we reached the crowded bustle of Cambridge. The entire Brotherhood of Steel army present in the Commonwealth was descending upon the police station, and had spread throughout the surrounding ruined buildings to form makeshift camps while a harried and annoyed Proctor Teagan attempted to coordinate the placement of newly arrived troops.

 "Make camp wherever you can find room, everyone's using field rations until I can assess and ration out our supplies. Knight-Captain Cade's got a clinic set up next door. No, I don't know where the Elder is, or what the hell the plan is after this. Lancer-Captain Kells is on top of the station, trying to coordinate the remaining vertibirds that all want to land somewhere. Of course I heard what happened to the airport! Now go do something useful!"

 "Proctor Teagan," Maxson's voice carried, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea.

 "About damn time! Uh, Elder, sir. What..." he noticed the rest of us, keeping our distance. "... I don't suppose they're here to surrender?"

 "They are not. I have an announcement, where can everyone hear it?"

 "Stand on the steps of the station and shout," Proctor Teagan shrugged.

 So he did. No, it is inaccurate of me to say Elder Maxson shouted. He stood on the steps to the Cambridge Police Station, waited a few minutes for everyone's attention, and spoke, his voice projecting out over the army before him like some grand commander of ancient history.

 "The Brotherhood of Steel is leaving the Commonwealth," Maxson announced. "We have spent long enough hunting synths scattered through this region. The means of producing synths were destroyed, the Railroad smuggling them is now without a headquarters to work from, and any synth remaining in the Commonwealth is by now so deeply entrenched as to be impossible to ferret out. So be it. Let the Commonwealth see the results of these machines hiding in their midst. There are other cities to be explored and purged of abominations. The Brotherhood of Steel must evolve and expand if we are to succeed in our goal to protect humanity from itself. We cannot do that if our efforts are solely focused here. We must not become stagnant and isolated. We will return to the Capital Wasteland to rebuild and take stock of what we have discovered, and then we will move on to the next target. Let the Minutemen have Boston. We have the entire eastern seaboard to explore."

 "Man makes a good speech," Preston begrudgingly muttered.

 “I like this speech better than the first one I heard him make,” Valentine commented.

 Maxson continued, “I will meet with all three Proctors, and Lancer-Captain Kells, immediately. General Holmes,” all eyes turned toward us, “has volunteered to assist with our operation. We’ll be using his resources to stock up before we leave. The rest of you, to your camps or posts. The Proctors will have instructions for you once we have a firmer plan to proceed. Dismissed.”

 Cambridge was a buzz of rumor and commentary as the soldiers followed orders. We quickly, if awkwardly, made our way inside the crowded police station. Anyone who wasn’t a Proctor or Maxson’s second in command hastened out the door. One of the soldiers leaving wore sunglasses.

 My company and I stood to the side and out of the way as the Brotherhood leadership gathered.

 “I can't believe we're asking for help from the people who blew up our ship in the first place,” Proctor Quinlan grumbled.

 "If my orders had been followed, the Prydwen would still be there," Maxson glared. "Instead, someone activated Liberty Prime, triggering the Minutemen to attack the airport as I expected them to."

 Valentine lit a cigarette and said in a low voice, “A bit ironic the machine designed to fight the Chinese ended up destroyed by a sub’s missiles.”

 Though he had intended the comment for Danse and Preston, all of the Brotherhood present stared at him.

 “A Chinese submarine’s missiles,” said Kells, skeptical.

 “How on earth did you get a Chinese submarine?!” Quinlan exclaimed with a gesture to me.

 “I was wondering the same thing,” Preston said.

 “I didn’t,” I said. “A friend of mine did. The captain turned ghoul two hundred years ago after the War, and—”

 “If we could focus,” Maxson interrupted, “please. Proctor Ingram, who knew how to activate Liberty Prime?”

 "Anyone on my team, sir, but they're all accounted for… except Dr. Li."

 I sighed, “Ah.”

 Elder Maxson took a deep breath. “Do you want to expand on that, General?”

 “I merely wonder if she wanted revenge,” I explained. “After all, first I destroyed her life with the Institute, now I was at war with the Brotherhood of Steel.”

 “You think she activated the giant robot of death just to spite you?” Preston asked.

"I could see that," muttered Proctor Ingram. Proctor Teagan nodded beside her.

 I shrugged, “We'll never know, unless she miraculously survived and somehow is found again. Unfortunately, if she managed to get out of the airport before it was destroyed, the chances of anyone ever seeing her again are slim to none, at best.” I smirked, bitterly amused, "Human minds present too many variables. It’s impossible to predict them all."

 "What?"

 I waved away the confusion, "Something a recent acquaintance of mine learned. Elder Maxson, what can the Minutemen provide to assist with your departure?”

 Thus the real planning started. Those that were on patrol or stationed further west likely wouldn’t reach Cambridge for another day or so. Paladin Brandis had returned from his mission at the Old North Church, which left only the soldiers stationed at Mass Fusion and in Concord unaccounted for.

 “Mass Fusion attacked Goodneighbor,” I said. “They lost. I wasn’t there to see it, I only know what the Mayor told me. Super mutants attacked, a bullet hit an unintended target, and things escalated. As for Concord, they sent a Knight into Sanctuary for reconnaissance. He was discovered, the rest of his team joined in the ensuing fight, and—”

 “We buried them,” Preston said. “Kept the dog tags, we can give them to you if you want.”

 Maxson remained stoic, “Thank you. Proctor Teagan, how much food do you estimate we’ll need for the walk back to the Capital Wasteland?”

 And so the planning continues.