Chapter Text
A landscape of orange and rust hues was what could be seen during the last sunset of the day. An incessant heat flooded the atmosphere along the road and the mirages in the distance were a bitter recurring reminder of what she still had to walk to Diamond City.
The nuclear winter was enough to drastically change the climate over the centuries, turning what only she remembered as the pleasant cold of the snow into a simple scorching heat, which added to the increasingly deteriorating horizon.
Once, at this time, Christmas was her only concern, and the nostalgia for happiness in her home was a constant remnant. Buying the right decorations for the house, preparing all the dishes with high-quality food. Oh, how she missed the smell and taste of that food, the desserts and the drinks so much.
Her stomach growled, and Dogmeat pricked up his ears at that. She focused on walking again, not paying much attention to her appetite. She was aware that she had spent her last can of Cram on the dog and there was nowhere nearby to buy consumables.
She sighed exhaustively and stopped for a moment to check the map on her Pip-Boy. She noticed then that Oberland Station was nearby, across a bridge a few meters from her current location. She had helped two women who lived there a few days ago and they were now supporting the Minutemen. Maybe if she stopped by they might allow her and the dog to stay the night, so that they could both continue the next day with a little more strength.
And so it was. The locals were more than happy to let them stay, and even offered her and the dog some food, nothing like her memories of course, but imagining it in a certain way helped her digest better. It wasn't that she was ungrateful, it was just that the food in this radioactive world didn't taste good by any means, but it was that or starving.
In any case, she thanked them and tried to rest as much as she could.
By dawn, the tiredness hadn't completely disappeared, but she had to ignore it because she wasn't willing to waste any more time. She decided to thank both women one last time and set off with the dog again into the hot wasteland.
They weren't too far from downtown Boston, and thanks to the Pip-Boy it was much easier to locate the streets that led to the stadium. However, she made the decision to take a shortcut that was very close to Hangman's Alley, but as she turned a corner, she came face to face with a trio of Super Mutants and paid the price for that idea.
Her heart pounded, racing as they shot at her and Dogmeat while they ran for cover. She managed to hide behind an old wall as her breathing became heavy. The german shepherd, on the other hand, ended up trapped behind an old vehicle across the street that didn't offer much protection.
Bullets were being fired in violent bursts; two of them were probably carrying assault rifles, but she had no idea about the third. They were advancing at a slow pace and cornering the car where the dog was hiding. She had to get him out of there right now.
Adrenaline was building as she exhaled air through her mouth, holding the rifle Danse had given her in her hands. She ran away from their cover, firing aimlessly to force them into hiding. She had time to skid on the ground and throw herself next to Dogmeat. She gasped and reloaded.
One of them ended up pierced by the gunfire and fell to the ground with a thunderous crash. At the same time, this enraged the other two, who forced themselves to find cover not far away, but continued to fire harder while yelling and swearing at her.
They were now completely cornered, but in an attempt to push Dogmeat away, she raised her finger in the direction from which they came and ordered him to run when the super mutants reloaded again, but he didn't move, he refused to abandon her.
“Don't be stubborn!” She shouted at him angrily. Caroline grew impatient and tried to push him away, but it was useless, he was determined to stay even if death dragged them both down. He crouched down and cried, looking into her eyes with a kind of sadness; it made her feel guilty, without thinking about the loyalty the dog offered her. She sighed ashamed of herself. “Forgive me Dogmeat,” she says again in a more passive tone while touching his head.
One of the bullets went through the car window and the glass scattered over them. She hugged the canine and covered them both with her arms as much as she could. She began to think of a solution to escape unharmed from there, while her breathing became much heavier and she tried to look with her eyes for any place that would allow them to escape without being hurt by the bursts of gunfire.
Then, after a few seconds, the shooting stopped, but she heard them approaching step by step. She managed to look underneath the car and see their feet, which were moving in their direction. “Shit,” she mouthed softly.
Desperation nearly washed over her if not for the fact that she felt the metal behind her and realized the opportunity the cover gave her. “The vehicle. The vehicle is highly flammable,” she thought. She quickly removed her backpack from her back, placing it on her legs and rummaged through it, taking the last grenade from her inventory. Dogmeat anguished, knowing well what the thing she held in her hand meant.
She closed her eyes tightly listening to the death threats of the super mutants and gathered courage, her heart seeming to leave her body as she pulled the pin on the grenade. Time seemed to slow down second by second, the sun shining overhead and the smell of gunpowder was phlegmatic.
She took the grenade in her hands, throwing it over and behind her through the broken window of the car. A drop of sweat ran down her nose, her eyelashes blinked, and she anchored herself to the ground to gain momentum and run, at the same time as the dog took the lead.
They both ran as fast as they could. The two remaining super mutants saw them and tried to shoot them, but it was too late, they didn't realize the trap she had set for them.
Caroline and Dogmeat threw themselves to the ground behind the wall of an old store covered in rubble. It was the only thing they found to protect themselves in a short time, but they weren't far from the car when the explosion happened and the sound faded, it made the ground beneath them shake and incinerate anything without protection.
Her ears were flooded with an unbearable ringing, and the only thing she could hear was her own heart pounding. Meanwhile, her brain hit the walls of her thoughts with Nate's voice reciting incoherently again. She shook her head in pain, ignoring it, and then stood up still dizzy as she held onto the rubble.
The super mutants weren't capable of surviving that, nothing living really. But that idea of a shortcut almost cost them their lives.
Now, their next problem was to leave the area as soon as possible since the sound of the explosion could attract anyone, and as she learned, most things out there were hostile, if not all.
Still with her vision somewhat blurred, she saw the Pip-Boy's radiation counter increasing, which was one more reason to leave the area as soon as possible.
The dog's bark echoed in her head. She tried to silence him because her eardrums still hurt, but he was trying to tell her something. He jumped with his front legs, turned around; he wanted her to follow him and Caroline didn't see a better option right now, so she followed him at the pace she could while her senses stabilized on the path.
Apparently Dogmeat never had an owner, or maybe he did, but it was still sensational that he could find almost anything, even shortcuts. When she realized that he had guided her to the guide signs of Diamond City, she sighed with relief. She hadn't imagined that he would bring her to her exact destination, and yet, he surprised her again.
She paused for a moment to take a drink of water from her canteen and watched as the dog ran past her and crossed the corner. Her face was of confusion as she wiped the moisture from her lips with her forearm, but she didn't think much of it, it was certain that he would be waiting for her up ahead so she continued walking.
It was almost five in the afternoon when she finally made it through the entrance, where the guards kept their position and usually greeted her as she passed. As for the dog, she couldn't see him anywhere, which seemed strange to her, he usually didn't go very far without her.
She was interrupted by a crowd of people at the main entrance. The guards were noticeably quite nervous, and the noise of the voices and the excessive accumulation were not a reason for relaxation for her either, much less because the glances fell on her from time to time. She looked around, unable to understand why there were so many people. She was sure that the stadium had not been packed with people the times she had been here.
Either way, there was no time to get bogged down in trying to find a reason. So, from her backpack she took out a copper-colored robe, quite old, but large enough to wrap around her neck and placing it over her head; she tightened it and adjusted it. That would be enough to hide a little among the people and not attract attention.
The first time she arrived at this place she knew immediately that it was the Boston baseball stadium; she had been there once in her past life, but when she saw the interior she received a devastating shock of reality. The inhabitants of this world, on the other hand, were not much kinder, nor less aggressive than those before the war. People refused to talk to her when she first arrived in search of her son, in fact, those who looked into her eyes preferred to advise her to give up. All the color, joy and passion that once flooded this place had completely disappeared.
Above all, no one seemed to sympathize with the vault dwellers, apparently they were the weak of the wasteland and were not believed to live more than a few months. Although, the only ones who considered them valuable were the Raiders; all the technology and objects of Vault-Tec in good condition were worth a fortune of caps.
Caroline was filled with this uncomfortable truth. Seeing herself as a prey in this new world didn't make it any easier to hold on to the pieces of herself, everything around her was trying to break her in one way or another, but despite everything she was determined to overcome it, perhaps because she had no other choice, or her temperament didn't allow it. Either way, her survival had to guarantee finding Shaun, it was her only goal. Well... first she had to find the dog, of course.
She pushed herself into the crowd, brushing against people, for a moment she stood on her tiptoes in an attempt to get a glimpse of him somewhere and whistled. She heard him barking near the stairs that led to the inside town, so she made her way there. She called his name about twice and he barked back, but further and further away from the center of the town, it seemed like the barking was taking her to the Dugout Inn.
Caroline hadn't been in there before, a bar was a troublesome place, and it was the last thing she needed now.
She thought that maybe it was the incessant sound of the crowds confusing her and not just her mind playing with her again, but she was surprised to see the german shepherd walk through the door in front of a man who was entering the place, she shouted at him, but he continued without paying much attention to her while he wagged his tail, and she began to lose patience.
She made the decision to enter to find out once and for all where Dogmeat was going. The hallway was full of people, people looking at her from head to toe, some looking at her weapons and others at her Pip-Boy. She felt anxious and cleared her throat uncomfortably as she adjusted the robe over her face; as she entered the main room she could admire the people laughing, drinking and chatting, they looked kinder, calmer, and she thought that despite everything, in the past people forgot their problems in places like this too.
Maybe sometimes she ignored the fact that for any other person, this was the normal world, the only one they knew, and they had to live it one way or another. She was surprised to see more order than she expected to see anywhere.
But none of that mattered, she was very tired of this chase. She searched all over the room and among the people, until she finally spotted the dog's furry tail and hurried to catch up with it, but he didn't turn to look at her, instead, he barked at the figure in front of him.
Suddenly, she recognized the old trench coat and the smell of cigarettes. “Nick!” she exclaimed in surprise. Dogmeat hadn’t just taken her to Diamond City, he’d taken her to the detective himself!
She stopped panting from exhaustion and he turned to look at her with his bright yellow eyes. He was leaning against the counter while smoking. “I’m glad to see you in one piece.” He said as he petted the dog's head in greeting. Then he added with irony. “Or most, I see you made a new hole in your favorite blue suit.” She shook her head with a small smile and walked over to shake his hand in greeting. Nick Valentine had been quite a character, and she had taken advantage of a pleasant friendship, one of the very few she had these days.
Caroline sighed more relaxed, “a fashion upgrade the ghouls gave me, do you like it?” She replied sarcastically, then crossed her arms to continue with the main topic. “Anyway, I managed to get the parts for that damn power armor at least,” and ran a finger to scratch the itch on the tip of her nose caused by the smell of the cigarette.
Her power armor left her trapped in this town a few days ago, the last time she used it, it was badly damaged.
After convincing Myrna that she herself was not a synth, she paid her a large amount of caps to have her robot Percy help her repair it, but even then, it was very deteriorated. Both the woman and the robot tried to convince Caroline that there was no solution, but she refused, since it was the only power armor she had gotten. She decided to go out in search of parts and scrap that in theory could give it one last use. And that is how she ended up wandering around the wasteland for several days.
“Well,” he threw the rest of the cigarette into the ashtray, “that means we can catch up on our main mission in the meantime. But let’s get out of here before Vadim comes back and tells me another one of his stories.”
The three of them left the Dugout Inn. Nick took a path behind the market where there were usually no people and it was easier to walk. He explained that at this time of year it was normal for Diamond City to receive so many visitors, among other reasons that Caroline did not hear as she was distracted watching how part of the streets were full of decorations that reminded her of Christmas. It was strange to see something familiar and pleasant, usually the familiar was faded and forgotten.
“Anyways… I was hoping you’d be back as soon as possible. There is bad news and good news,” he said as he walked ahead. She didn’t answer that, but she felt a pang of anxiety in her stomach, mixed with an incongruous anger that tasted like bile, and somehow her tiredness disappeared, as if the mere mention of the situation was enough to restore her energy.
He continued. “I didn’t want Ellie to hear this that day, but I think you should know.” He lowered the tone of his voice. “Everything I dug up about him before his disappearance is bad news. He’s more than just a mercenary. He’s a professional. Quick, clean, thorough. Has no enemies, because they’re all dead… Except you.”
“Maybe it has something to do with the fact that he called me ‘the backup’, or something like that,” she replied, equally intrigued. What was the point of letting her live anyway? Sometimes she even wished that she wasn't the one who had survived, but then it seemed like a joke. Maybe the death he planned for her was to let her experience the horrors of the wasteland, maybe he was convinced that she would die.
“Leading a small team to kidnap a baby, and leaving one of the parents alive for later? Not many mercs in the Commonwealth can pull that off.” He stopped in front of a staircase that led to a higher level, away from the town center. She snapped out of her thoughts and turned her attention back to him again.
“But, nine to one odds says he's our man. It's more than just you identifying his distinguishing features. The MO is all him as well.” Then he took a key from one of his pockets and offered it to her. “And since I told you the bad news, I'll tell you the good ones.”
She pulled her robes off her face and took the keys, confused, then looked at him waiting for an answer. Dogmeat barked behind her and sat down.
“Kellogg's house is up these stairs,” and pointed with one of his metal fingers.
Caroline's eyes widened, “he's still in town?” She asked anxiously.
He shook his head. “They both vanished a while back, if I'm remembering right, but that house is still there… Ellie and I investigated his address while you were out of town and she managed to obtain a copy of a key that the Mayor's secretary had in her possession. It's the one you have in your hands right now,” he replied. “I know this is personal for you, so I didn't let my curiosity get the better of me. I know the one who should find whatever is in there, is you.”
Caroline's heart skipped a beat with nervousness. She thought it was normal to be afraid of the answers she would find, but she had been so afraid before that she had nothing left. She took a deep breath and clenched the keys in her hand. She had to do it now, she had already wasted too much time, this was the time to find her answers and to silence the echo in her head once and for all.
So, she looked at him, and nodded, “then let’s find out where that bastard went,” she finished. Nick smiled and adjusted his hat. Caroline, Dogmeat and the detective walked up the stairs to a dark, abandoned residence. And finally, as night fell, she walked to the door and inserted the key. It was now or never, the only way to find the truth.
The only way to find her son.
December 14, 2287
After the Great War, Boston, like many other places in the former United States of America, was left in complete desolation. The imposing buildings, and other facilities, revealed within them the true nature of humanity in the face of the power of technological advancement of that time, whose manipulation lay beyond limits.
The old society in ruins and the new one that emerged from it came together, discovering themselves and the consequences of their actions. A world had begun to form under the yoke of destruction, unable to understand its own past.
Thus, the Brotherhood of Steel entered the game.
For many years now, they have been convinced that the Commonwealth of Massachusetts was an abyss full of old technology that deserved absolute control before a new catastrophe.
At least, that's how they classified it.
By then, they had decided to send reconnaissance teams that for the most part did not turn out very well and showed them that the area was not much more passive than the Capital Wasteland, especially because the few information collected opened a much wider field of uncertainty.
However, their latest recon team, Gladius, led by Paladin Danse, had finally stumbled upon the most important information to date: The Institute.
Verification of Scribe Haylen's readings confirmed that an organization with high technological capabilities was somewhere in Boston, and their Synths were only a part of their creations, therefore, the Brotherhood claimed the right to point out any faction that met such charges as a danger, and decided to take justice into their own hands as they had done before.
For that fate to take its course, it was imperative that the team now lying in the Cambridge Police Station send such a report, which if it weren't for a Super Mutant attack that damaged the building's antenna would have been sent earlier.
Haylen had spent two days trying to repair and modify the antenna with the new deep range transmitter; she also had to recreate a new base made of improvised scrap, which would prevent it from being easily damaged this time. This kept her quite busy since then.
For his part, Knight Rhys, now much better from his wounds, had to burn all the Feral Ghoul bodies with the Paladin before they unleashed a more unbearable smell than they had while alive. After this, his main task was to stand guard in front of the building.
While inside the place the only thing perhaps audible were Danse's heavy steps that resonated even outside his power armor.
In one of his hands he carried a list written on an old yellowed paper, and with notable concern he walked from room to room checking the consumables and ammunition to realize that there were food and water rations left for exactly five days.
At the Police Station the tasks were carried out in limited ways as they were reduced to a team of three, and both Rhys and Haylen fulfilled their duties simultaneously, however, the chaos that preceded the last few weeks neglected even Danse from maintaining the supplies.
This distressed him even more. And if it weren't for the fact that guilt was constantly chipping away at his bones, he would have taken it easier.
He didn't want to waste any more time anyway, so he decided to rummage through the compartments of an old desk. From there, he pulled out an amber-colored paper, dusty and rather weak; it was folded in six parts and he carefully took it to spread it out on the table of the same desk where a map of all of Cambridge from before the Great War was displayed, whose usefulness had been made possible thanks to the Scribe for deciding to keep it.
College Square was a street away from the Police Station, which was helpful, although they had already crossed the square a couple of times, but the Feral Ghoul factor had made them quickly desert. But, the area was full of buildings that didn't seem completely dismantled yet, even for the clear signs of Raiders in the area, therefore, it was his best option now.
So without thinking much more he headed to the stairs that went down to the garage to look for his power armor and quickly set off.
At the same time, outside, the saffron rays of the sun were beginning to hide behind the clouds that were slowly turning green. A strong storm was approaching from the Glowing Sea for the second time this week.
Rhys, who was standing guard at the entrance of the place, was also very aware of the blizzard that was beginning to gain strength and clicked his tongue rather stubbornly. Then he turned to face the height of the building and raised his voice to reach Haylen, “Hey, Haylen! You better hurry up there!”
The Scribe was in a crouched position adjusting the last pieces of the antenna, she stopped to wipe the sweat from her forehead with her forearm and admired the horizon that was rapidly transforming into a radioactive storm.
She stood up with some numbness in her knees and placed all her tools inside a box, then approached the edge of the roof and saw the Knight yelling at her from below.
Before she could respond with the usual sarcasm of their interactions, the garage door rose. She watched as Danse walked out of the place with his full power armor on, a laser rifle, (which was not the one he always carried) and an old ochre-colored jacket wrapped around the left arm of the same armor.
With one hand he lowered the swinging door again to seal the entrance and approached Rhys, who adjusted his posture and grimace to a more serious one when he saw him approach.
In a tone of seriousness and anguish, he addressed the Knight without the intention of discussing his plan. “I must go out in search of supplies towards College Square, inform Scribe Haylen of my temporary departure. You can contact me by the radio at the counter if anything happens, so in the meantime keep the area safe, Knight.” He finished, and immediately turned around to leave the barricades that protected the building and walked away.
Rhys barely had time to react and nod upright at his order. At the same time the Scribe heard that and could not help but sigh with some anguish.
Despite this, the storm continued its chaotic course and the explosion of a great thunder made the floor of the roof tremble, which alerted Haylen and took her out of her thoughts about the situation. She quickly pulled out a small signal detector and checked that the antenna was working properly, then she picked up the toolbox and entered through the roof door into the building.
But even though radiation covered the environment and the sallow color of the lightning struck everything in its path, the Paladin continued. The radiation counter on the power armor began to rise little by little. He had to hurry and get what he needed before the storm worsened.
He crossed the square from the south to the west. The clear signs of Raiders were present, although not literally, since there was no trace of them beyond their repulsive decorations that consisted of hanging bodies, impalement and decapitation.
That simple image would give nightmares or nausea to anyone who passed by here.
Fortunately, it no longer affected him drastically. Although the custom was not exactly charming.
He continued very cautiously into several establishments where the smell of the corpses of both Raiders and Feral Ghouls still accumulated, which seemed strange to him, since it seemed that the place was clear unlike when they first passed by. Apart from that, he successfully found several consumables in acceptable condition and ammunition, which he placed inside the ochre sack that he unwrapped from his arm and then lifted it over the shoulder.
Meanwhile, the Police Station remained relatively silent except for the deafening flashes of lightning from time to time. Haylen was in the main room, sitting in front of the terminal that was connected to the antenna on the roof. It seemed that the transmitter's power would be enough to penetrate the radioactivity of the storm, so she sent the message containing the information about the Institute. On the other hand, Rhys kept watch from the interior windows, walking back and forth with the laser rifle in his hands until a burst of blue lights broke out outside.
The Scribe thought she could relax for a moment until she caught the same lights and got up from her chair to approach the window glass with the Knight to try to decipher it.
Neither of them could see anything of course, as the storm covered the environment in a harsh and drastic green.
“What do you think it is?” Haylen murmured to Rhys with concern.
Rhys turned to look at her with the same confused and defensive expression, although he was unable to respond coherently, until a sound pierced the sudden silence and a laser shot collided with one of the window panes, causing it to crack. The two of them stepped back, exalted, and worry enveloped their minds. Haylen looked at him again with a disturbing astonishment, because she had recognized the weapon.
As for the Paladin, who was north of College Square, he had finished collecting the items and consumables needed to return, but a strange feeling of suspicion crept over him, as he had found a trail of old Feral Ghoul corpses, and strangely at the same time, some very recent ones.
Even if the Vault dweller had been the cause, they should have been two days old, but those had died recently, at least a few hours ago. Furthermore, there was no trace of pistol or shotgun fire on them. In fact, they looked as if they had been riddled with bullets that burned their flesh.
Unexpectedly, a light but fast figure moved through the green breeze that embraced the area. The lamp on his helmet, although it was lit to see in front of him, did not allow him to understand this sudden thing.
Either way, he decided to follow it and investigate whether it was hostile or not, even if the latter option was not even something to consider.
He came across an old building, near the edge of College Square. It was much more run down than the others in the area, and was barely two stories high. The entrance did not invite exploration, as there was a bureau and some chairs lying around, as if they had been knocked over with force.
As he entered with the caution that his massive power armor allowed him, the needle on the radiation counter dimmed. And as he examined the place a sound on the second floor caught his interest.
There was something about this place that wasn't right, so he lowered the sack to the ground and carelessly climbed the weak concrete stairs. He raised his rifle with both hands, aiming straight ahead. And with the reason that his premonition preceded him, the lamp on his helmet showed him that he was right.
There was a human figure, reinforced with metal and a whitish fiber all over its body. It was crouched on the ground, holding the corpse of a feral ghoul that had a hole in its forehead, and around it were broken stimpacks, as if they had been thrown on the ground.
It was much worse than the Feral Ghouls and the Raiders, it was a damn Synth. And they never came alone.
His nerves reacted as he pulled the trigger of the rifle several times to destroy the synth before it attacked him. Then he sighed, worried about this. He had to return to the Police Station as soon as possible.
The radio on his power armor activated with some interference and was static, but after a few seconds, he recognized Scribe Haylen's voice: “...We are under attack! Repeat, we are being attacked by Synths!”
He knew then that it had been a terrible mistake to leave. He tried to communicate by radio as he quickly descended the stairs, but it was useless, there was too much interference from the radioactivity. So with a growl of frustration, he grabbed the sack and hoisted it onto his shoulder again to set off as quickly as he could towards the Police Station.
Despair began to flow in what was left of the Brotherhood team.
Several windows had been broken, which forced Haylen and Rhys to wear gas masks so as not to be affected by the radioactivity that came in.
Haylen had done everything possible to contact the Paladin by radio, but she did not get an answer, mostly because the radio of his power armor did not have enough power to work through this storm. So with not much choice, she set out to help Knight Rhys block the door with everything possible to prevent the synths from entering.
Her deduction of this situation could possibly be simplified to the synths being determined to retrieve the deep long-range transmitter that was taken from them at ArcJet Systems. But at this point, it could be anything else.
Well, the consolation was that at least she was sure that the transmitter worked enough to attract their attention.
Still, the situation was getting worse, and the Knight had to use his own strength to push the door as far as he could. She tried to help but it was useless, the synths were much stronger.
They didn't have much choice, but in an attempt to buy some more time, he ordered Haylen to defend from the windows, as several of them were cracked enough to allow them to enter. She hesitated to do so, but didn't lose hope even if it seemed hopeless, so she pulled a laser pistol from her suit and loaded it.
The direction of the synths suddenly changed towards the outside of the building's barricades, even the knocking on the door began to cease. Then, they unleashed a burst of gunfire against a much larger figure in the distance and the Scribe immediately recognized it as the Paladin.
The sound of the gunfire rose above the storm and Rhys, panting under his mask with exhaustion, realized this, although he was not sure that the synths had given up.
“What is going on now?” He asked approaching her side without stopping to aim at the door with his rifle.
“It's Danse, outside!” She answered anxiously and uneasily.
“We need to help him and…,” he was suddenly interrupted by the loud sound of one of the windows breaking and a thud on the floor. They both turned to look for the sound, aiming their weapons, but were unable to act quickly against a synth completely covered in armor that emerged from one of the rooms and lunged at them with immense force.
The Scribe moved to shoot it, but Rhys stood in front of her with the rifle, however, the synth hit him hard and he crashed to the ground, then it bent Haylen's wrist which was holding the gun, and grabbed her by the neck to lift her up and suffocate her. She could feel the cold metal fingers tightening more and more and not allowing her to breathe.
But she did not want to die, in reality, she was not going to die.
Through her short breath, she took a knife out of her uniform with her other hand, stabbed the neck of the synth with great force making a large crack and cutting the connections that connected to the head, therefore, it began to fail and let her let go.
She exhaled with noticeable relief when she hit the ground, and the Knight got up in pain to take advantage of the opportunity and hit one leg of the synth where it had no covering, so it shattered and fell to the ground.
They both stood up completely exhausted, just as the door slammed open and they went back on the defensive. But instead, they saw the Paladin enter in his power armor noticeably tired of this whole catastrophe as well.
Minutes passed, everyone was aware that they were not ready to talk about this situation in detail, they could not afford to rest either, they had to repair the windows and clean up the mess outside.
After a few more hours, the storm finally began to dissipate and both the Scribe and the Knight were able to abandon their suffocating masks, the Paladin was also able to leave his power armor in the garage repair station along with the bag of supplies that they would have to organize later.
After they were able to breathe fresh air, Haylen had the chance to explain to Danse that the antenna was working properly and it was just a matter of time before they received a response from their superiors soon. This lifted his spirits a bit after the bad day they had.
Rhys, on the other hand, was in charge of removing all the bodies of the synths that Danse had decimated outside. It seemed that there weren't as many as they thought, there were at least a dozen of them. Except for the Synth that remained somewhat active inside the police station, which at Haylen's request was disassembled so that it could be studied, and placed in the room that once served as an interrogation room.
Thus, the place remained calm for a while.
The Paladin had healed and bandaged some burns himself, as some stray laser shots had penetrated through the power armor and even managed to burn his suit, so he even had to change into another one. Then, he began to sort through the supplies, but stopped to check whatever the Scribe was doing.
“How's your hand?” He asked as he walked into the room confidently and saw the disassembled synth on the table. It was also connected to an old terminal that Haylen was using.
She had bandaged her hand herself, as it had become swollen and red from the rough manipulation of the tendons that the synth caused. Still, her spirits did not drop to the situation and she was glad to greet Danse and see that he was in one piece after that rough confrontation. “It's better. It wasn’t that serious really.” She answered without taking her eyes off the screen.
The Paladin, who had a closer friendship with her, decided to take a chair and sit in one of the corners of the room. He took an opportunity to vent the guilt he felt for abandoning them in such a situation.
Haylen was aware of the recurring guilt that Danse felt, which even kept him from sleeping, and despite having recommended that he rest, he had not done so, but she felt both respect and appreciation for his decisions, even if they seemed cold.
“Nothing that has happened since we arrived in the Commonwealth has been your fault. This is our job, and we are all proud to do it under your command, because we know the dangers involved, Danse.” She told him with an air of pride in herself.
The sincerity of the Scribe’s words lifted his spirits a little. It seemed that even though he was the leader of his squad, sometimes he was the one who needed encouragement, but he was glad it was from a loyal companion like Haylen.
He cleared his throat, and stood up straight as he walked around the room with both hands behind his back to closely examine the synth’s body, but the Scribe, with a surprised face, called out to him: “Sir, you might be interested in seeing this.”
Danse approached curiously and looked at the terminal screen without understanding much.
“During our first encounters with the Synths it was evident that they were organized as search, attack and recovery teams. But, although they don’t have organized positions, they always have a leader.” She argued, and pointed to the body on the table to affirm that this was one. “This is a Synth leader. Their directives seem more complex than those of ordinary synths, in fact, they can receive information in real time based on the date of these orders.”
He scratched his beard in interest. “Is it possible to find the location of the Institute if the source signal from where they receive the information is tracked?” He asked with his own deduction.
“Negative. The signal is encrypted in some way that I don’t understand, yet. But, I have a clue as to where we can start looking.” And she pointed with her finger at a name and a location on the screen.
Danse read what seemed to be a date, then a name: Conrad Kellogg, next to it, the coordinates of an unknown location.
December 18, 2287
She could still feel the coldness of the pod. Shaun’s incessant cries woke her up completely, and she was desperate to get out of there to help them both, but instead, she could only watch as Nate woke up, dizzy and unable to understand his surroundings, unable to let go of their baby. She banged on the glass, leaving her knuckles bruised, and she heard him: “I’m not giving you Shaun!” He yelled at them, and then, the echo of the gunshot.
She gasped shakily and tears swirled. Her dilated eyes stared at the emptiness of the room, breathing heavily and sweating. She held her shotgun in both hands, which shook with her breathing; some synth parts accumulated around her, and a short trail of blood spread on the floor in front of her.
Just a few minutes ago, when the last synth fell to the ground, Kellogg came out of cover at the same time as Caroline, both of them fired at the same time as well, but the bullet from his revolver missed, passing close to her neck, however, the pellets from her shotgun destroyed one of his legs and he fell to the ground.
But that shot from Kellogg's revolver made her a prisoner of her own mind and the painful reminiscence that the echo provoked.
Nick called her a couple of times, but she didn't respond, until he approached her and touched her shoulder, calling her by her name. She got scared, reacted by moving away and pointing the shotgun at him, until her perception returned to normal to see in front of her. Immediately, recognizing that it was the detective, she lowered the shotgun and quickly scanned with her vision to remember where she was. “What..? Oh God, I'm sorry Nick,” she offered, embarrassed, still very agitated.
“Don't worry about me, are you okay?” He asked her, offering his metal hand as support. Dogmeat approached her to lean on her leg and offer her comfort.
She closed her eyes and shook her head, but hearing the cries of pain near them, her eyes snapped open. Her skin crawled, and she saw herself, her shaking hands.
They had been scouring the facility for hours, mowing down the hordes of synths in every hallway and room. Her wounds, specifically the burns, itched, but her anger was like a painkiller for that.
“This place… Fort Hagen. I came looking for Shaun.” She reasoned, until Kellogg’s figure landed in front of her eyelids.
Maybe her main objective was to find her son, but her chest was really boiling with rage at her husband’s death. She would take this life no matter what the cost.
She blinked and her breathing became even more agitated, her fury reignited, so she pushed forward to reach him. Valentine stopped her by running a hand along her forearm and approached her uneasily, “Caroline, are you sure this is your decision? We may need him.” He urged. She turned to look at him and let go without answering, simply walking a few steps to Kellogg’s dying figure.
Kellogg crawled backwards on the floor, leaning against an old table and moaning in pain, his right leg bleeding and leaving a noticeable trail. Caroline approached him, took the stimpak that rested weakly in his left hand and kicked his revolver aside to prevent him from using it again. She reloaded with the last two bullets she had left, and aimed at him without hesitation. “Speak,” she demanded, dragging her teeth.
“It’s not necessary,” he managed to reply, panting. His hand trembled, bloody, and he reached into his jacket to pull out a holotape of it that he could barely hand her.
She snatched it from him and scanned it with a grimace of confusion.
“Of course, the terminals,” Nick announced. Caroline then handed him the holotape, uninterested in anything but the words of the man on the ground.
This large room, even in its dilapidated state, could contain valuable information. It was filled with maps, books, odd-looking objects, and much more that the entire facility could conceal. But Caroline was far from interested in that now, and perhaps Valentine showed a hint of curiosity about it, but he didn't comment on it the whole way.
He fed the holotape into the only active terminal he could find in the room, and at the same time, the other terminals lit up, showing hallways, rooms, even the outside area of Fort Hagen they had passed through hours ago. The place was filled with cameras, though their reason beyond Kellogg's paranoia was a mystery.
The strange thing was to think that he had seen them tear down and dismantle everything in their path, but he didn't think of escaping. Maybe his skill as a veteran mercenary gave him the benefit of believing that this fight would not be his last, but in the end the circumstances did not play in his favor.
But, curiosity quickly turned to concern. The terminal contained only one report, confirming what he had initially feared. He read it again, and sighed somewhat in defeat.
She noticed his silence across the long room, and saw him still staring at the terminal screen. “Did you discover anything?” She hurried to ask.
He turned around, sighed and ran one of his hands over the back of his neck. “You're not going to like this…” He replied.
The nervousness of knowing the reason for the detective's distress worried her noticeably.
“There is only one record, and… it confirms that your son was delivered to the Institute.” He added, moving away from the terminal and putting the holotape in one of his pockets. This turned all the terminals off again.
She swallowed and hesitated. “Well, it doesn't matter if it's here or at that so-called 'Institute'. I'll find my son wherever he is.”
Kellogg scoffed. “That’s the spirit.”
Her blood boiled. “And if you find it so funny, why don’t you start by telling me how to get there? Huh?” She threatened him.
“Haven't you been paying attention?” He shook his head cynically. “You don't find the Institute. The Institute finds you.”
That stupid, meaningless, and empty response made her increase her rage even more and she tightened the grip on her shotgun. “And what the hell does that mean? If that place exists, then there is a way to get there, and you will tell me how.” She said with much more anger in her voice.
He coughed. “Look. Shaun’s a good boy. So maybe he's not quite a 'baby' anymore. But he's doing great. Only… he's not here. He's with the people pulling the strings.” He stated with indifference and pain in his voice. “You might've actually been a good mother, but you have to accept it already,” then he shrugged, “he was just part of my job. And your husband… Well, that was… a regrettable accident I guess.” He concluded, and dared to look her again straight in the eyes, as if he had thrown more fuel on the fire.
She was stunned by his words, not a shred of regret came out of him. Even after all this chaos it seemed like nothing had changed.
Her lungs were burning, and her heart seemed to not stop, she felt like she couldn't breathe, her face went from being confused to filled with more anger. He was mocking her, he didn't care at all. Her teeth raked with fury, all of her memories desecrated by this man.
Something inside her flared up, she let herself be carried away by the demand inside her to take revenge and she didn't stop it any longer, she had endured enough, she had been very passive with herself. But she wasn't going to shoot, instead, she grabbed the shotgun tightly and turned it around, her nostrils dilated with the heaviness of her breathing and with a deep scream she hit him in the face; she felt her body go cold, with some kind of affliction and pain.
Dogmeat whimpered, and hid under one of the tables, scared of Caroline's attitude.
And the detective was silent.
Since she rescued him in that Vault, he respected her will, capable of acting when there was no more hope, although always with her sight lost in melancholy and anguish. She decided to find her son above all else, and he, eager to return the favor, helped her. But, what now? That goal seemed lost in time and he didn't know what reaction she would take beyond vehemence.
Kellogg moaned in pain and spat blood on the floor. Now there was an open wound on his left cheekbone. The blow knocked him face down and he tried to hold himself up with his arms to sit up again.
“Where is that place?!” Caroline cried out through screams. “How do I get there?!”
Her hands were red from the force with which she held the shotgun.
He didn't answer, and she, even more furious, hit him in the face again, this time with much more force. She growled tiredly, desperate for answers and with a need for violence that was unable to satisfy.
Shaun's giggles were heard. “Oops!” And Nate's voice echoed in laughter as well. “No, no. Take your little fingers away. There we go. Just say it. Right there. Go ahead.” Shaun played along, and Nate burst out laughing.
She began to tear up and the drops spilled down her face, cleaning the trail of dirt and blood that had accumulated. Kellogg seemed to have surrendered to this fate, in some way, and despite everything, he believed that he deserved it, his punishment would come sooner or later, he thought, only that unlike her, he accepted his situation.
She hit him for the fifth time, breaking his nose and part of both cheekbones. The butt of the shotgun was covered in blood that dripped onto the floor, and she too had been exposed to the reddish color on her suit and armor. She panted in distress, tormented by her own existence and the guilt of coming to this.
I don't think Shaun and I need to tell you how great of a mother you are… but we 're going to anyway.
Every memory, every moment, was slowly forgotten by the vigor of her exasperation. She grabbed the gun again, but something inside her stopped her when she saw him resuming his sitting posture, with his face covered in blood and swollen, he had spat out several teeth and was unable to say another word.
Caroline lowered the shotgun, and threw it to the floor. She exhaled loudly while some tears still fell from her chin. “No… you don’t deserve to die like this,” she said. She looked around her with little spirit, at Dogmeat under a table, looking at her in fear and Valentine unable to have an opinion of the circumstances.
She knew then that she was no longer herself, and this was the only thing she could accept about it. But she had to finish what she started anyway.
So, she lunged for Kellogg's revolver that she had kicked away earlier, gripped it in disgust and removed all but one bullet, reloaded and aimed it below his left shoulder, right at his heart. In the same place where he had shot her husband.
That look he gave her took her breath away. A mix of regret and surrender settled in his wounds, in his labored breathing. But his words held no remorse, no guilt, only emptiness.
Was there a moment when he stopped recognizing himself as well? Would she become something like this eventually?
It was as if something inside her showed a hint of empathy for him, and at the same time she felt disgusted.
“You... and I,” he coughed up blood, “are not so different…” He finished with a gasp.
Caroline frowned. Something in her had fractured a long time ago, part of her forgave what had happened and then the other part roared unrestrainedly, calling for his death. It was clear, nothing would improve by doing so, but she would do it anyway. She had been consumed by that torment for so long that it was impossible to stop it now.
“Who are you going to be after this?” Her mind hesitated in Nate’s voice.
But she ignored it all, her conscience, her emotions, herself, and just fired. The echo of the shot hit the walls, the floor and the ceiling, then disappeared into the silence of the entire facility. Kellogg's vision slowly faded away, while blood seeped from the hole in his jacket. His body finally stopped spasming from the pain, simply fading away from this rusty place, except in her mind.
She threw the revolver away from her, and after a few seconds of silence, she burst into tears and knelt on the ground. She sobbed, hugging herself, and bit her lips hard to keep from screaming from the ordeal she felt inside.
The detective sighed, not really having much of an opinion of the situation. To his own eyes, she had done the right thing, scum like Kellogg didn't deserve to live anyway, but this was more than that. He represented a piece of the goals for Caroline, his death represented the recovery of her son, and now without that it was like breaking a bridge between the reason for her survival and everything she had fought for to get here.
Valentine watched as Dogmeat slowly crawled out from under the table and approached her, laying down beside her leg. He simply stayed there, comforting her and feeling her pain at the same time.
Fort Hagen marked the end of these decisions, and opened the way to the mystery of the entire Commonwealth: Where was the Institute? How did someone get there? Answers to these questions were few and far between, but the fear they inspired was much more constant.
But now, they feared something much bigger, visible and sailing through the skies.
They had arrived here.
The Brotherhood of Steel.
All of the illustrations are made by me, I do not allow the use without permission.
Concept art of Caroline (physical appearance) and her appearance in game.
(Note: I think the lipstick is not something possible, or even important, it's just something I've drawn in the illustrations because I like it, but it's not like that. Just like in the game, I've placed it as an aesthetic accessory, but Caroline doesn't wear makeup in any way except for the paint she applies on her face sometimes, whose use and origin will be explained later).