Chapter 13: Great Green Jewel
Jon walked into the outskirts of Boston. He had left the Vault, now a settlement in the SCPG, and did preform an immediate task for Mansfield when it was all sent and done. A couple bloat flies were taken out by the pond, their glands extracted, and a quick dive in let him clear a park bench table from their water intake. His gills worked as advertised, and he breathed deeply even under water.
On his way in he spotted a fern with a couple purple flowers. He took them both so someone could figure out what they were. The fern itself looked healthy even by pre-war standards. He then moved into the first couple streets of downtown Boston.
Just at the edge of Mass Pike Tunnel West was a raider outpost, and it would make a good Minutemen post as well, almost in sight of 81. Two raiders were splashed after Jon took cover in the shadow of a building a moderate distance away. He advanced quickly and took cover on the wall overlooking the free way, and the rest of the raider outpost.
They had no fire discipline. The shots from their pipe bangers, and a couple combat rifles, were slamming into the concrete and flying over his head. The raiders all had to reload at about the same time. He popped out and snapped two shots at two raiders. They both fell, and one began their screams of pain. Jon took cover again.
The cycle was repeated until the rest were dead. Until the end they never figured out the best course of action would have been to stagger their fire, and thus their reloading, thus keeping Jon’s head down. He wasn’t going to ping an outpost like this, so he simply looked everything dry expect the raider clothes, and their guns since he couldn’t fit the better ones in his pack.
He continued with his trip, and came upon a couple raiders hanging behind a building, under a posted tarp for shade. They only just saw their doom when it approached. Figuring there were more inside the building he proceeded in.
His suspicions were correct, and the place was a jackpot, some kind of hardware store. Raiders were in the front of the back warehouse, and in a pit near the door were bodies of settlers and trades. Their death warrants were already signed, and Jon didn’t know why they felt the need to convince him.
A few raiders were waiting in ambush, “Come on.”
“What’s taking so long.”
“Quiet.” the boss said from his perch on the scaffolding.
Jon slung his rifle, and pulled out a frag grenade. He pulled the pin, but didn’t throw immediately. Grenades weren’t actually primed until the handle was sprung off. He slowly released it with his free hand, so it did not make the distinctive ping sound that happens when one simply tossed it. Then he tossed it in a lazy arc, giving it no time to cook in his hand.
It was nothing for him to stand up and draw his Singer, and VATS target the boss. Just as the grenade crossed his sight-line in slow motion, he said, “W-h-a-t-t-h-e”
A bullet fairly ripped, cutting his distorted words off. The VATS crit chunked his head into pieces. The grenade had just landed in the group of huddled and ready raiders, and exploded a moment later. If they didn’t die to the grenade, they did to Jon’s un-slung rifle fire. Two more raiders ran into the room with reckless abandoned from the front, and they too died to hyper accurate fire, their heads snapping and spraying.
He heard no more raiders, so he proceed though the building, still with caution. The place was a veritable junk mine, and Jon pinged it on the private frequency. He picked up choice bits of loot, including a few more mags from the main office, and even a couple gold bars from the safe.
He stood near the back entrance again in thought. There was plenty of paint still on the shelf, some of it blue, some yellow, but there was a mixer there. The paint would be good for his Minutemen, and the yellow could be used somewhere. But they both make green. Fenway park. The Green Monster. The Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth. He could by a lot of good will with green paint. It was basically free discounting opportunity costs, and that cost was actually a gain.
He mixed six total gallons of green paint, and hauled them out of the front door of the Hardware Town. A raider looking woman in normal clothes, trying to play a victim to lure people in, was shocked to see the Minuteman simply appear though were her gang members should be. She saw the star on his helmet, the Augment stare in his eye, and the paint cans in his hands told her this was the only chance she would have to live. She took it. Unbeknownst to Jon, she would show up later at an SCPG settlement, giving up any kind of raiding after the incident.
Another block and a half put him within sight of the green gate of Diamond City. It certainly smelled like a wasteland city from the range it was at. He knew when he got inside it would be nearly offensive.
There was an emotive woman arguing with someone thought the gate intercom when Jon walked up. She was wearing a ratty red trench-coat, a moth-eaten news cap with a small paper press badge tucked in, and duck taped together boots, with soles nearly to the bone.
I’m sorry, but Mayor McDonough’s really steamed, Piper. Saying that article you wrote is all lies. The whole town’s in a tizzy!”
“Ahg, you open this gate right now, Danny Sullivan! I live here, you cant just lock me out!”
“I got orders not to let you in, Piper. I’m sorry. I’m just doing my job.”
“Just doing your job!? Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out!? Is that it!? Oh look, its the scarry reporter, boo!”
here was no response from the intercom. She slammed the button in, “Stop playing around Danny. I’m out here in the open for crying out loud!”
There was still no response. She scoffed and turned around in frustration. Jon focused immediately on her button nose, and they way her hazel eyes lit up when she saw Jon and had an idea. Just like her, he thought. Though Piper was obviously not some kind of mirror counterpart. She was blond.
She whispered “Psst, hey blue, you trynna get in?”
Jon nodded, “Yeah, but let me do the talking, I can buy our way in.”
And just like her she lopsidedly grinned when he agreed to her harebrained scheme. Back then it was war journaling with an Augment and a merry band of jackass Marines. Now it was simply getting though the gate.
Jon held the paint up, his hands full, and her face twitched in realization when she finally got the hint. She pressed the button, and Jon said, “Ah, hi. Hello. General Jon Singh, Commonwealth Minutemen.”
Piper finally saw his star and was taken aback again. Her jaw almost hit the floor, and the stories began writing themselves. Jon continued, “I have five gallons of green paint from Hardware Town. To whom should these be delivered?”
There was a second of static, thought, “The only reason I’m buying any of that with Piper whispering in your ear is because you mentioned where you got it. Hardware Town has the only working paint mixer we know of, and not many know that. I’m opening the gate, but it better be legit.”
The gate cried itself open, and the Mayor was already standing there with an angry expression. He ignored Jon and stared daggers though a smiling Piper. This woman had balls, Jon thought. The man was a Synth, and probably a purpose built infiltrator being in the position he was.
He said, “You, devious, rabble rousing, slander! I should have that printing press of your’s scraped for parts!”
“That a quote, Mayor McDonough? Tyrant mayor shuts down the press.” She used her hands to outline her head line. Jon kept himself from chuckling.
“How bout you, blue? You support the news?”
“A free press is the foundation of a free society. Imagine if someone had been able to report the existence of the Enclave, you know, before they dropped the bombs.” Jon was taking that as fact at this point, even if he had to reject reality to substitute his own.
Apparently even the synth infiltrator couldn’t argue with that megaton range arguemrnt. Piper simply beamed while he cleared his throat. He said, “Welcome to Diamond City, Mr. Singh. I apologize if this hasn’t been the warmest of welcomes.”
Jon met his shark smile, “Plenty warm Mr. Mayor. As I said I have green paint, I assume your fine city will need.”
The Mayor kept his political smile while polity nodding, “Indeed we do, however we will have to confirm it before we let you in. After all, that troublemaker being here his contingent upon it.”
Piper scoffed, and Jon met the polite nod. He set the cans down, and opened one up with his combat knife. The synth was legitimately taken aback, and even had a warm genuine smile. He seemed to love his green wall if nothing else. Jon hammered it back down with the hilt.
He turned back to Piper, angry, and lowly said, “Consider you and that sister of yours on notice. One more misstep…”
He then marched away to his private elevator. Not once did he acknowledge Jon’s rank, in fact he did the opposite. Jon would have to ponder what that meant. Perhaps it was simply that being a Minuteman, or even General, meant nothing to most people here. Why would it?
Piper shook her head. She looked to Jon with a smile and said, “You coming, blue? How bout to my office. I got the perfect idea for a story.”
“Is that a proposition?”
She snorted, “Ha! Good one. Really, a story. A General of the Minutemen? Come on, blue. You gotta give me the scoop after what we just went though.”
Jon started a walk into the city, and Piper reacted quickly. He said, “No. sorry. But I prefer to remain somewhat mysterious. Wouldn't do for a sit down and tell all. That’s a story written over time.”
“Maybe I take the time.”
“Are you sure that’s not a proposition?”
She was taken aback when she realized what it sounded like, how she said it, “Well, I mean, like, technically it is. I come with, watch your back. Write the story over time. You did come alone.”
“And your sister?”
“She can handle herself. And honestly if the Institute want’s to swap her, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. They’ll do it, and she’ll still be my Nat.”
“A noble view point.”
“Have to cope somehow.”
“She should get out of the city. There’s places she could go. You do in fact have a synth problem in the Mayor’s office.”
She leaned in and whispered, “So you believe me? You read the article?”
“I can smell synths. It’s like my polymer alloy armor, but slightly different so I can identify it easy. Underneath the flesh and blood.”
Her jaw hit the floor again. He thought he could probably make the woman believe anything about him, because she believed any crackpot thing she heard. So did she, like an Augment turning coat. The Moon landing? Who even believes in the moon anymore. That was a fun night.
“How? Are you a Synth. Not that I care or anything. You know, as long as you’re not an Institute stooge running Diamond City.”
Jon smirked, “Genetic super soldier. Increased everything.”
“Are you sure That’s not a proposition there, blue?”
Jon snorted now. He knew what he said. He said, “Where the fuck am I even delivering these anyway? He never said.”
“Of course he didn’t. That would be a straight answer.”
Jon laughed now, catching some eyes, but the quickly went about their day. He said with some flourish, “Wellll, I’m waiting.”
She smirked, “Old Man Abbot, probably near the back wall. Don’t call him old though.”
“Fair enough.”
They passed Publik Occurrences on the way, on the main drag leading into the market. It sat on the pitchers mound, and the shack city swept up on all sides around it, well into the now supposedly empty upper stands. The smell was also indeed offensive, not having proper plumbing thought most of it, shit of all kind mixing with dirt and mud.
Piper stopped, “Hey there kiddo. How’s the sales?”
She shook her head, “Not great, Piper. Not great.”
“Yeah, that’ll happen sometimes, when you tell the people what they don’t want to hear.”
“And the press still needs maintenance.”
“The Old Gal will keep ticking. Maybe take the rest of the day off.”
Nat rolled her eyes, not having the same confidence, but was still eager for the rest of the day. Jon and Piper continued walk. Jon said, “She’s not a Synth.”
She released breath that she had been holding in for years. “Oh thank god, blue.”
“She needs out of here.”
“Where?”
“Sanctuary.”
“That place is real?”
She believed everything else, but not that? Jon guessed something like that was harder to believe in the wasteland. He said, “Yes. I’ll make a call.”
“Th-Thank you, blue. Why though? We did only just meet.”
“And you offered to travel with me?”
“Well, I just have a good feeling about you.”
“And I don’t?”
“Ah, yeah. Ookay, fair enough. Let’s get that paint delivered.”
They finally made their way to the back wall, and Abbot was angerly trying to get every last drop of paint he could out of his can. Jon said, “Excuse me, Mr. Abbot.”
He shot back from his work, angry still at being interrupted, before he quickly remembered his manners. After all the boy was polite, with the only honest journalist in DC, if the only, and he had a mother load of paint in his hands.
“Sorry, there. That wouldn't happen to be green paint would it?”
“Indeed it would be. Six gallons, everything I could make. The mixer still works, but this is the last of the paint.”
He scoffed, “Boy, that’s enough paint to last the rest of my life, and after that it’s not my problem.”
The group chuckled, and even the wall joined in on the merriment. Jon set the paint down near him and said, “Here you go, Mr. Abbot.”
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Here I got some caps I can give you.”
“Keep em. My price is good will.”
“And you’ll have it. Thanks, pal. Really.”
They both walked away from the man, letting him continue his work. The Mayor was actually setting up for a speech. They both decided to watch the show from far in the back. Piper said, “You really are a good person, blue. Anyone else would have grabbed him by the short hairs.”
Jon shrugged, “My price was literal. It wasn’t all out of the kindness of my heart. Ulterior motives, ambitions. I have to have them, can’t help it. Dot’s must be connected, effects affected. It’s how my mind works. Almost hardwired in. I will eventually get something for it.”
She shrugged as well, “Well, at least you didn’t clear a man out of his life savings. DC is better for it, and you make a name for yourself.”
“Basically yeah. You can play the game without being a dick about it to decent folks. Plenty of assholes to kill, puzzles to solve, problems to work. At the end of it all, all that’s left is base exploration. The final frontiers, just waiting to be pushed.”
She looked to him with a warm smile and a spark in her eye. Jon returned it. The Mayor was starting his speech, and they turned their heads towards him. Jon’s eyes imperceptibly twitched when his own gift of sight took hold. Just like it did with her.
They Mayor’s speech was all the usual bullshit one would expect from a professional bullshiter. Platitudes, empty promises, broken dreams. He finished with “...I am not a synth!”
The crowd cheered as he began to wave. Jon caught his eye, and he gave two peace signs, motioning for the Mayor to throw them up. The Mayor threw them up as high and as wide as he could. The crowd’s cheers went even louder, and the Mayor gave a shark smile and nod to Jon, which he returned. What is he, friend or enemy? That was a question Jon wanted them to spend more time pondering than actually answering.
Though that would only work if they have direct feeds to their synths. If they didn’t, well the Mayor still has to make reports, and he’ll have a perspective woven into them. Sure he’s hanging around with Piper, but Piper honestly isn't that much of a threat, and a simple gesture the man gave to him just won him some more political capital. If he got Piper and her sister out of the city on top of it, that’s just more points in Jon’s favor.
They walked away, and Piper was snickering, “Soooo, obviously you were dicking around there. What’s the scoop on that?”
Jon said, “President Richard Nixon, way before the bombs. That was his signature pose. He said, and I quote, I am not a crook.”
She laughed, “Oh he was definitely a crook.”
Jon smiled, “Obviously. It was so egregious his own political party, former close allies, walked into the White House, his literal home as President, and told him he was being impeached. That would be removed at trial. He resigned the next day.”
Piper scoffed, “What a load. Presidents getting removed with a trial? Everyone knows you gotta blow up their secret bunkers if you want them dethroned.”
Jon mockingly said with a serious tone, “Now Piper, that’s terrorism, and terrorists are also communist.”
She broke out in laughter again, and Jon met it. They once again got looks. Jon said, “He got taken down by two journalists. Woodward and Bernstein. Nixon’s FBI director gave them the scoop, told them to follow the money. They did, and the Watergate Scandal was where it lead.”
She again had a spark in her eye that Jon met. She said, “Thanks for sharing blue. It makes me feel better about what I do. It’s not easy sometimes. Telling the truth.”
Jon decided not to pry. It sounded at least like she didn’t want that. Bad memories lay there. Jon said, “Let’s get some of those noddles. I’ll tell you about his VP, Agnew. He took cash bribes in the White House. Made Nixon look like a saint by comparison.”
Jon told the story of a couple junior prosecutors dead set on removing the corrupt VP before he took office after Nixon. They chatted and laughed, and ate their Commonwealth famous nodded served by a Japanese speaking Protectron. He only had one line, and any attempt Jon made to speak to him, even in his language, was met with only the same line, ‘May I take your order?’
When they were done with their power noddles, paid for by Jon, they shared some of his preserved smokes. Piper said, “You know, that’s Honest Dan at Arturo’s there. He could definitely take Nat.”
Jon said, “The name isn’t ironic?”
Piper didn’t hesitate, “Nope. He is literally the most trustworthy merc you’ll ever do business with. He didn’t call himself Honest Dan until others started to. He also doesn’t just take any job for the right price.”
Jon shrugged, and they walked up to him near hand in hand as he was done with his business. Jon said, “Honest Dan?”
He turned and gave a warm smile, also offered a hand, “Yup. Honest Dan’s the name, and honest work’s the game. Looking to hire?”
Jon took it and nodded. He leaned in for a more quiet conversation, “300 caps to take Nat to Sanctuary. Just past Concorde.”
He nodded, “So those rumors are true?”
Jon nodded again, “Yup. I’d like them to stay just rumors for now, though feel free to ply your trade.”
He smiled, “Hey, Discretion is Honest Dan’s middle name. I’ll get her there. Need payment up front though. The perks of having a good reputation.”
Jon scoffed with a smile and handed the man his caps. He said, “I came down the rail line and into the outskirts past Vault 81, then Hardware town. It should be mostly clear of hostiles.”
Honest Dan nodded, “Thanks for the tip. I’ll still keep my eyes keen. Let me get some grub in me, and I’ll be good to go if she is.”
“I’ll go tell her. Thanks, blue.” And the rose up to peck Jon on the cheek.
He found much comfort in it. He said, “I have to talk to a couple people. How about we meet back here, then I have to go to Nick’s.”
She nodded with a smile that never seemed to leave now when looking at Jon, and he again returned it. Then Arturo got his attention, “So, you’re the new guy around here, huh? Even got Abbot the paint. Word travels fast, mi amigo.”
Jon walked up ready to trade, “Si senior. The new guy with the paint. I take it a man like you would have five five, with everything I see.”
He tapped his counter with both hands, “You know it. I must say that is one nice rifle. Authentic redwood. You from the NCR?”
Jon shook his head, “I found it. Government property, but who gives a shit, huh?”
He chuckled, “Definitely not me. Came from Baja. Was a Bandito, but it meant something different in the Baja, their word. We harassed them when they tried to cross the border with their caravans and barons. Trying to spread their gobierno with Colonizadores in lands not their own. We, politely, robbed them and turned them away. Eventually it settled into stalemate, and from there the border posts actually got pretty friendly. Our skirmishes were fistfights by the time I left. Becoming a full tournament. I wanted to see something more, and I ended up here after a good bit of travel.”
Jon gave him a shark smile, “Un guerrilla, amigo. Y Apuesto a que era muy provechoso luchar por la libertad.”
He returned a shark smile, “Operemos, compadre.”
They traded their fare, Jon giving him all the 32 he picked up. He once again walked away with a few more caps than he started with, and getting almost three full mags of ammo. He then perused around the market and was stopped by a haggard looking chem dealer. But it was the right kind of haggard. Not raider do any chem any time, but a man that takes pride in his drugs.
“Hey, pal. Got some chems here if you want to self prescribe. Priority on prescriptions from the docs.”
“No thanks.”
“Yeah fair enough man. How about a job? You look like you could dig it.”
Jon thought a moment about what this man could do in his network. An honest cook and dealer. Then he thought about what would happen to DC, a City with thousands people when their only honest chem cook goes off to better things. He did legitimately fill legitimate prescriptions with high quality product.
Jon said, “What’s the job?”
“I’m looking for a mutated fern flower, it’s purple. Stuff soaks up rads, good for home brew Rad-Away my man. Just need a single one so I can grow my own.”
“How much?”
“150”
Jon gave a thumbs up to the sky.
“Alright I dig it, 200”
A jerk up of his head
“Ha ha, 250”
Jon gave him a look
“My man. You are one righteous talker. 300, but that’s as high as even I can go. Gotta be able to by stock an all.”
Jon pulled out a flower, and the man roared in laughter at being taken for the ride that he did. Jon met it with a chuckle.
“You are far out, dude. Here’s your caps. So worth it.”
Jon gave a final wave, getting paid to gather intelligence by the man with the intelligence. It was worth one of his flowers to know what they were for. He began walking back towards the wall to where The Ron had his signs. He spied an atom model down one of the thin alleyways. It was a crude one, hand made, and not actually a correct model as the Bohr model only works on hydrogen, but something interesting might be happening in there. A center of science would be useful to check out.
There was a conversion happening behind the door, and Jon decided to let It play out. It was ludicrous. The one thought the synths were grown like plants, and the other one was certainly a serious woman of science, but even she broke and pondered the thought. Jon didn’t hold it against them. He, after all, didn’t know how synths were made, and he guessed it was a possibility. Probably not.
He opened the door, and the crazy frazzled haired woman perked up immediately, “Oh look! A new student! Please come in!”
Her partner gave a polite nod and smile, but still unhappy with being interrupted from her experiments. She was a robotics expert Jon pegged from the terminal and electronics.
He said, “Hello. I’m new to Diamond City, and was checking this place out. Looks like a decent lab.” It did, actually, just built with old junk and scrap.
The boisterous woman said, “Well welcome to the Great Green Jewel, and the Science Center! I’m Professor Duff, and this is my partner Professor Scara. Would you like a lesson?”
Jon smiled, “Sure. Always looking to learn.”
She beamed, and even her droll partner gave and eye of respect. Professor Duff said, “Wonderful! Let’s start with one of the most common things you can find in the wastes. Radiation. It was everywhere even before the bombs! We talk about it like it’s all one thing, but you see it’s not. It’s actually dozen’s of different ionizing rays.”
Jon nodded, “You got radio on the low end. Microwave, infrared, visible, UV, x-ray, gamma rays at the top. Then other kinds not on the EM spectrum, like nucleo-beta decay.”
Both woman look at the other in shock, then smiled, then decided to hug. Jon had a cocky grin on his face. Professor Scara said, “I think he is more than a mere student, Professor Duff.”
She looked back to Jon, “Indeed. But does he know the specific kind of radiation that came from the bombs? The stuff we really have to worry about.”
Jon kept his grin, “Gamma rays.”
They both cheered, and Jon was even give a gold star sticker looted from somewhere. He kept in in his breast pocket, and would for a while yet. Professor Duff said, “Wonderful! Gamma rays are what caused the mutations in the environment we see everyday, along with the FEV but I have never confirmed that myself. Perhaps a man of science could help a fellow researcher. A field trip! I’ll even give you stipend of 100 caps.”
Jon didn’t haggle. Taking a job from a chem dealer is one thing. His expedient delivery came at a premium. He almost felt dirty taking any caps at all from these genuine women of science doing their best in a bad situation, but he needed caps.
He said, “Sure. What do you need?”
She smiled and began collecting her caps, “A bloat fly gland. Be careful though, they can be surprisingly dangerous. Quick and agile, with a raged attack that is actually their larva trying to implant themselves in you.”
Jon took the caps, and then handed her one of the glands he extracted, to her complete shock, and continued scoffs from Professor Scara. Duff said, “Thank you! So timely. The best student we ever had, wouldn't you say Professor?”
Professor Scara said, “I believe he is. Thank you, again. I think we have research to conduct.”
Jon scoffed and left. They were madly in each other’s arms before the door closed. One respected the other’s pure competence, and one respected the other’s pure optimism in the shit-hole they lived in. They made a pair.
He left and turned back down the alley he was originally walking. The next alley actually had Nick’s office, the Valentine Detective Agency, and it was a custom made neon sign. That would not have been cheap. And the name certainly sounded like a hard boiled wasteland PI. Jon continued onto The Ron's office.
After he got thought the mutfruit outfields, he spied the door, and the two gunners at it. One was in fatigues, but with a green insulated overcoat, and the other was in combat armor much heavier than Jon’s. He was almost as big.
He could hear the conversation, “That info trader was useless. Why we wasting so much time trying to find this guy? It isn’t even paying.”
Well that confirmed Jon’s theories. They were in the Commonwealth for more than a payday. The one in the coat said, “Because Algernon said so, and the captain is not a man you ignore.”
The meathead in heavy armor said, “We got better things to do-Hey, who are you.”
Jon didn’t have his helmet on, and he was just a man in blue fatigues, “Who are you?”
He snarled, “You want some pal?”
“From your ass? No, not my type. But feel free to try and give it.”
“You just lost your fucking teeth asshole.”
“Hey! We’re here for information, not starting trouble with the locals.”
“Yeah, how do we know he ain't the one we’re looking for. He’s in blue.”
The reasonable one said, “Because the description was a cowboy like out of an old film, Malcolm. Now lets get out of here before you blow the op and get us tossed in the brig. Absolutely no one in the chain will be happy if they have to bail us out.”
Thanks for the intel, Jon thought. They’re after Jake, and how he said that last line sounded like an internal struggle. At least a simmering one, ready to boil perhaps. Malcolm said, “I better not see you again pal, cuz you’re dead.”
“Feeling’s mutual.” Jon’s words trailed, the last syllable dropping from his tongue.
He scoffed and marched away with his smaller companion, who did at least give a polite nod and smile which Jon returned. Perhaps he would die last. Jon entered the office and Jake was right. The Ron’s desk was in a room to the left as he walked in, and down the stairs were walls of books and documents. Even a foot ladder to traverse up to the top, were more information was stacked. Holotapes as well.
The Ron said, “Hey, hey, baby. Another new client. Come sit your hip self down and have a talk with, The Ron! Oh yeah!”
Jon snickered as he sat, and The Ron matched it. It seemed he didn’t take himself so seriously. The Ron said, “Wait, I know you, and I know you’re one cool cat.”
He leaned in for a whisper, “In addition to being a General, and a Military Governor.”
Jon whistled softly, “You are good my friend.”
He boisterously said, “Oh yeah! The Ron knows why you’re here, and he’s even gonna give this one free of charge for the cause. The Ron digs what he’s seen baby.”
Jon smiled, “Thanks The Ron. What do you have?”
“Oh yeah! I have the location of the Vault-Tech Regional HQ baby.”
Jon nodded, “And they were in collaboration with Rob-Co, so it stands a good chance of having ASAM information. The fact that no one else is using them outside the network means they came from Boston and never got distributed, Jake stumbled onto them first. The collaboration was between the local offices. Information relating to ASAMs near guaranteed.”
The Ron gave a shark smile. They were common in DC, though only the Mayor he smelled so far was a synth. He slammed his fist on his desk, “When you’re right, you’re right baby! Oh yeah! I’ll mark it on your map. Those other things you wanted will take a little longer.”
Jon met it, “Alright. Thanks again. We’re those Gunners a problem?”
“Oh no. Not the first time The Ron has dealt with fussy clients. The Ron does Not sell other clients, baby”
If he said so, “Alright. Just watch yourself, you know what they’re capable of.”
The Ron nodded seriously. And Jon left him to to his business with the free intel. He walked back outside, and the sky was beginning to overcast. The rain was falling not long after. Jon put his helmet back on to ward it way from his growing hair. It wasn’t heavy, yet.
Piper was sitting under the awning of the power noddles exhaust vent. Another helping being stuffed in a way that Jon could only smirk at. She waved, and he met it. People were milling in the wet dirt of the dirty city, trying to find relief from it, but never truly feeling it. It was the smell when it rained. Even those used to it couldn’t miss it, the corruption right in their faces.
Jon took his seat beside Piper when she just finished her meal. Jon ordered three more, and Nuka-Cola. He lit a preserved smoke, and offered one to the Journalist apprising him with a skeptical eye. She still took the smoke, and the light that followed.
Jon finished a puff. With a perfect trans-atlantic accent he said, “What’s a dame like you doing in a dump like this.”
It turned out Piper was good at accents as well, and could keep a straight face, “Doing the only thing a dame can, darling. Digging though the shit to find what lies underneath.”
“It’s always more shit, sweet-cheeks.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Whadaya say we ditch this gin joint and find some real action.”
“A proposition I can accept.”
They finished their meals, almost breaking character with their smiles, and took off though the now pounding rain. The only consolation was that the alleyways were mostly covered, once you got into them. While a lot of people took cover in them, sharing smokes and talk during the bout, some deciding to just gun it though the muck back to their homes. Nick’s alleyway was empty. And he was the only office on this way. Jon didn’t know what that meant.
He passed the red glow of the sign, and held the door open for Piper. When he followed, the secretary was muttering up a storm herself, “Damnit nick, I shouldn’t have let you go. Damnit. Oh look, more strays coming in form the rain. Sorry, the office is closed.”
If he had met Nick, he would have continued the bit, but something was wrong, “Is something wrong? Detective Valentine missing?”
Her eyes shot up a bit when she heard him, and then saw his star, “My goodness where are my manners. Ellie Perkins, Nicks secretary. And yes. He’s missing. For about two weeks now. He went to Vault 114. it’s where Skinny Malone and his crew are holed up.”
Piper said, “That name is ironic, blue. Don’t worry Ellie, we’ll find him.”
Jon nodded, “But I need something in return. A case I’m working. I stumbled on it, and it pissed me off enough that I’m going to solve it. If you could, put together some files on anyone capable of breaking into a Vault, and killing an cryogenicly frozen Anchorage vet that would not like his child being stolen from his arms. I would guess at least a pair.”
“One for kidnapping, one for shooting during the struggle. He would still struggle after waking up.”
“The murder weapon is a 44. I will admit, that is literally all I know, that and the crime took place 60 years ago.”
Ellie nodded like she knew something, but Jon would give her time to think on it. A distraction from her predicament, which was much more than just her missing boss, but the livelihood and home attached to it. She said, “I’ll put some stuff together. Even if the worst happened, you'll have the info you’ll need.”
Jon said, “There are places you can go if that’s what it comes too. The rumors are true, and I’m sure someone with your skills will do well.”
She nodded with a tear in her eye as Jon and Piper walked back out into the muck.