While travelling the world of Fallout 4, we managed to pinch a personal
holotape archive from renowned detective Nick Valentine.
VALENTINE'S DAY
SAMUEL MCCOSH
I
’m grateful the Diamond
City Mayor let me stay
after saving his daughter but it’s annoying the
heck outta me every
time he calls me “Rick”
or asks if I “...Dream of
Electric Sheep”.
Suppose it’s better
than the usual wayward
glances and mutterings
of “Synth” or even “Robot” from a group so
scared of what the Institute spits out. It’s a lucky
accident that stops them
blasting me away like
the boogeyman in the
dead of night.
Still, does make an
entertaining story about
how I stumbled across
the kidnappers. Don’t
think I can go “beep...
beep...beep”
without
laughing - even as I
write this log I’m starting to chuckle. Maybe
it’s the novelty of Synths
back then or they had
less brain cells then the
lowlifes that I convinced
I was a ghoul in bad
shape, how many ghouls
you reckon have wires
hanging out of their
wrist, need to get that
fixed now I think of it.
Commonwealth Provisional
Government
massacre, what a way
to stop any effort of government getting back
together. Just happened
so damn close to when I
moved in that folks here
think I’m here to finish the
job. Keep getting hassled
by the city guards when
the handyman business
send me to fix their water pipes. Not that I can
blame them - some of
them grew up with the
people the Mayor sent
off to what became a
bloodbath. The guy that
let me in was gonna
blow me away with that
nasty looking shotgun
of his until Miss Roberts
chimed in and saved this
bucket of bolts from kicking said bucket.
In the 30 years now
I’ve been doing this
investigative
business I’ve never been
dumb enough to go
near a Super Mutant den. 30 years,
what was I thinking? They got their
irradiated mitts
on a bunch of
what looked like
Mark 28 nuclear bombs
- hard to tell
exactly when
booking
it
as far away
from one of
them Suiciders as possible.
Lucky to be
alive; if it wasn’t
for this Mysterious
Stranger I’d be in
as small pieces as
what’s left of my pursuers. Never seen anyone move so fast. One
bullet and - boom gone as a Super Mutant exploded into little bits. I’m gonna be
finding giblets in my
hat for the next
couple days,
I’m sure of it.
All of that
because some pre-war
genius decided to stockpile them in the South
Boston Military Checkpoint. Coulda sworn
that’s where they
t o l d
p o o r
souls not in one of them
vaults to go once the
bombs fell. Whatever
the case, I spent the best
part of a day reattaching
my right hand and rewiring it. It’s hard to hold a
gun or a pen when your
hand is stuck in a balled
fist.
The bright side of this
mess, if there is one to
be found, is that the
trench coat covers
the physical damage, a couple
less super mutants roam the
Commonwealth
which is always
a plus, and the
mechanic set I
found there for
the client has
already been
put to good
use. The digs
now have a
fancy neon
sign
pointing to my door
- moving up in the
world, Nick!
A name I’ve technically never heard,
but the cop Nick, his
memories, anger, guilt
and loss are all coming
back. Eddie Winter,
some big time gangster from back before
the bombs fell - or rather
one of his holotapes was also there. It took a
couple days for me to
bring up the courage to
listen to it and a couple
more to complete it, but
now I’m sure he’s still out
there. Somehow he survived the war. Somehow
I’ll find where the scum
hid himself and give him
justice once and for all.
May 15th 2229 - or
the Broken Mask incident, as it’s referred to
by residents of Diamond
City - changed these
people forever. The safe
stadium walls came
crashing down. Literally
if you ask Eustace Hawthorne. Sweet old lady,
lost her glasses a while
back - easiest case I’ve
had in awhile, damned
things fell down the back
of her sofa. Felt a little
guilty taking the caps
she forced on me for the
help.
Back on point, 50
years ago today it was
confirmed I was an obsolete model. Old Nick
here was replaced by
those Institute scientists
with ones that look human - really human - and
with this third generation of Synth machinery
inside me, my prototype parts look like the
pre-war crap scattered
around the city.
There’s a new guy in
town. Something about
him just seems off. Maybe it’s the instincts from
the cop Nick that got
uploaded or maybe it’s
just the way the guy acts
more strange around his
kid than me. Whatever it
is, I’ll be sure to keep an
eye on him and that kid.
He looks about 10
years old at most and
seems to be in two minds
on whether to leave the
city or run back home
as soon as he steps out
of his door. Wouldn’t be
the first kid to run from
this battered old Synth
mug.
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