Epilogue Part 1 “Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“Dear John,” Rosie started an audio recording. “I was right.” She put another log into the fire. “I know that doesn't really narrow things down. Just tell Mike, I was right, and I have proof.”

After a year of travels, Rosie hadn’t been able to resist the pull of the Boston sewer system. An entirely unremarkable place, aside from the lair of the serial killer from her book. She’d burnt through a full roll of film, documenting the macabre tableaus. Keen for the next meeting of her book club. Even if that was still years away.

Her day started looking for a bunker. Rosie hung around the old world obelisk and small community till sunset. She’d subtly crouch and send pulses into the ground, looking for any trace of an underground structure. She found none.

She slipped out of the gate, regrouping with Janey in an apartment overlooking the settlement. They started heading back to camp as the sun went down.

“No luck.” Rosie admitted begrudgingly.

“As I informed you this morning,” Janey replied. “The name Bunker Hill comes fro—”

“Yes, thank you Janey.” Rosie cut her off, in no mood for another history lesson. There seemed to be one on every corner.

“You are welcome.” Janey replied quickly.

“Was that sarcasm?” Rosie asked as she stopped walking. Janey turned her head back.

“It was not.” Janey answered.

“Wait, was that sarcasm?” Rosie smiled as the light in Janey’s face blinked. She started walking without answering, leaving Rosie grateful for her company.

“I saw the ocean.” Rosie continued the recording. “It’s…” Rosie didn’t have the words. “Well, you’ll see it for yourself. It’s big.” She paused the recording, tempted to delete the last thing she said. “Anyway, there’s something going on here. Something weird.” She’d felt eyes on her all day. Caught glimpses of the same face in different outfits.

Rosie had taken a bounty job a few days earlier. The zeros on the poster caught her eye, but Rosie mainly took it to scratch an itch she could no longer ignore. Her target ran a local raider crew. They’d been picking off traders on the road.

They occupied a fleet of small boats around a barge, lashed together and connected by floating walkways. Rosie watched them for a day and night from ruins by the shore. She enjoyed the rhythmic sound of water, even if it did make plotting shots tricky.

“I’m going in.” Rosie took off her duster and armour, stripping down to her Shadow suit. She loaded her integrally suppressed carbine and tossed it in the waterproof bag she’d fashioned. “Cover me.” She passed Janey the antique rifle.

“Good hunting.” Janey crouched, balancing the rifle on a window frame. Rosie waded into the water, then dove under the waves.

Rosie watched through Janey’s eye, hidden beneath the surface. A patrolling raider sat on the stern, as she’d done before. Rosie fought the instinct to pierce the base of the raider’s skull with her knife. She knew her strategy would be better for the good people around here. The raider flicked her cigarette into the water and carried on with what passed for a patrol.

Rosie stayed under a moment longer before climbing aboard. She drew her carbine and set off. Instantly Rosie had to stop, making the unknown sensation worse.

The floating bridge swelled and dipped beneath her feet. Rosie’s frustration spurred her to move faster, only making matters worse. She had to slow, edging along the bobbing path. A dangerous reminder that despite coming so very far, she still had much to learn.

Rosie made it to the barge, trying not to throw up in her suit. She pressed herself into a dark corner, cloaked by the shadow. The relative stillness of the barge and a few deep breaths calmed her. She padded silently through the hallway, slipping past the partied out raiders.

She made it up two floors undetected. The former bridge now home to her target. She moved against the wall to the open doorway, the wind covering the sounds of her approach. Rosie peeked inside catching a glimpse of her prey. The long hair and face tattoos a dead give away.

She peered in once more, seeing the target sat in a chair. For a moment Rosie thought he might be dead from one chem too many. Yet his posture looked too stiff. She held back for almost a minute longer, still he did not move.

Rosie dismissed it as a side effect from what poison they’d be willingly taking, and crept inside. She readied her carbine and flicked a beer bottle, sending it rolling from the table to the metal floor. The pinging and clinking snapped her target from whatever stupor held him instantly.

He turned to the door with a pistol drawn. Rosie put two bullets in his chest and one in his head. She zipped behind him in the blink of an eye, easing the surprisingly heavy dead weight down. She snapped a quick picture to claim the reward.

Rosie turned to leave, the itch already begging to return. From the corner of her eye she saw the corpse sit bolt upright. Still bleeding from the bullet wounds. The shock caught her off guard and suddenly she was deflecting strikes. Her opponent a foot taller, heavier, and skilled.

She fought back with rapid, precise cuts from her dagger. Picking out tendons and nerve clusters, all to little avail. A sharp right hook nearly connected. Rosie saw a gap and went for the trailing arm. She span under and behind her attacker, levering his torso down and arm out.

Rosie drove her palm at the forearm, ready to snap it like Grimm taught her. It didn’t break, it didn’t even bend. She knew a straight up fight would not go her way, and glanced round the room. Rosie swept his leg and followed the face first impact with a kick to the back of the head.

That bought her enough time to make it to the door, past the guns and ammo tins, and out on the walkway. Her target followed. He looked one way, then the other, seeing nothing. Rosie looped the rope she'd planned to escape with round his neck, pulling a knot tight. He barely reacted to the choking bind. She hit him with a full ammo tin, hard enough to kill a man twice over.

He dropped to his knees. She wove the rope round a few more tins, and chucked one overboard. Tins clattered and scraped as the rope tightened. Rosie saw no trace of fear in the eyes of her target. The weight slammed him down, then pulled him out of sight.

“Hostiles inbound.” Janey came over the comm. Rosie melted into the shadows, carbine gripped tight.

“What the fuck happened?!” One raider asked the other, bleary eyed and unsteady.

“Fuck me, I bet he jumped.” The other raider made a stupid guess. “Come on, he’s always been off, getting worse lately too.” They seemed entirely unconcerned with the fate of their leader.

“You know what this means.” The first raider hopped in the captain’s chair, getting himself comfortable. “We need to get our people up here. Decide what to do with the rest.” Rosie slipped out unnoticed, leaving the animals to feed on each other.

She looked over the railing at the ink black water below. Rosie shrugged off her nerves and took a few paces back. Rosie sprinted, springing off the railing and into a dive. She kept straight and hit the water with barely a splash.

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Rosie found Janey and moved double time to clear the area. “That was weird, did you get a scan?” She asked her faithful companion.

“Negative.” Janey answered. “The subject was out of range.”

“Well, at least we’re getting paid.” Rosie played down her excitement at stumbling into a mystery.

She travelled through the night to reach the centre of trade in the area, Diamond City. She left Janey in a ruin, covering her exfil. Rosie avoided the main gate out of instinct, climbing up the metal structure and over the poorly guarded wall.

Instantly she thought of Brandon. The pain of his loss never far away. He’d have known what this place was in the old world. Angled walls on three sides, homes built on them. The centre a rough square shape, crammed with shops and stalls.

The sunrise brought the people out to start their day. Rosie caught the scent of food and remembered she hadn’t eaten.

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?” The bot behind the counter asked her.

“Hausu supesharu.” She answered, terribly pleased with the translation.

“You understand him?” The man behind the counter seemed surprised. “What did he say?”

“He asked me what I wanted.” Rosie replied, watching the bot cook.

“Well that makes sense.” He shook his head in amusement. “Although we only serve one thing.”

“Arigato.” Rosie thanked the bot as he served a third helping of noodles, loaded with hot sauce.

“I need to see the mayor.” Rosie asked the man behind the counter.

“Up in the nosebleeds.” He answered, drawing a blank stare. “That way, follow the signs."

Rosie ignored the lethal looking lift and took the steps. She followed the sign into the glass walled rooms. She saw a young woman sitting at a desk outside a closed door.

“Here to see the mayor.” Rosie said to the woman.

“Do you have an appointment?” She asked, her tone unhelpful.

“No.” Rosie answered, already bored.

“No one sees the mayor without an appointment, he’s a very busy man.” She said, like it was obvious. Brandon taught her a word for people like this. Bureaucrats he’d called them. Rosie had a few words of her own, but employed what he taught her.

“Look, I’m just here to collect a bounty. Two minutes and I can go take a shower instead of stinking up your lovely office.” She smiled sweetly and handed over the poster. The girl’s face dropped and she hurried into the office.

Moments later, a suited man appeared. “Welcome, Miss…”

“Frost, Rachel Frost.” Rosie rather liked her latest alias.

“Miss Frost, please.” He held open the door to his office. Rosie saw an opportunity, and took a seat. “I understand you put down Gabriel. Most impressive.” The mayor sat behind his antique desk.

“I have proof, if you can point me to a darkroom.” Rosie held up her camera as the woman poured her coffee. It tasted vile. “When was the bounty posted?” She asked, trying to find a lead.

“A few months.” He seemed surprised to be asked. “We do have some more rather troubling bounties, if you’re interested?” He put a stack of posters on the desk.

“Perhaps, assuming I get paid for this one.” Rosie had a sense of something and wanted to dig into it.

“But of course.” The mayor went to a safe. “If you wouldn’t mind.” Rosie turned her back. She cranked up her hearing and got the combination. “Here you are, all yours.” He plonked down three big pouches of caps. “Just as soon as I see your proof. Speak to Doctor Wright in the square.”

Rosie found a busy waiting room and couldn’t help diagnosing from her chair. “Doctor Wright.” She got up as the tired looking woman in a white coat came in.

“Take a number, wait your turn.” She said without looking up from her clipboard.

“No, I have medical training. I’d like to help out.” Rosie thought Charlie would do the same.

“Alright medic, what’s on the docket?” The doctor motioned round the room.

“Two broken arms, possible dislocated shoulder. A chest infection. Three garden variety fevers and someone pretending to have hurt his leg to score chems.” The man in the corner hurried out. Rosie got to work.

Rosie spent most of the day treating this or that alongside Doctor Wright.

“How did you know he was faking?” Doctor Wright asked as she poured Rosie a decent cup of coffee.

“He only started limping when he got inside.” She sipped her coffee getting an amused look from the doctor.

“I imagine today was quite dull for you. No one shooting at you while you work.” Wright said with a knowing smile. “I know a combat medic when I see one. Your bedside manner needs work.”

“So I’ve been told.” Rosie smiled, thinking of John’s complaining as she patched him up.

“Still, happy for the help.” She clinked her cup against Rosie’s. “Especially as you work for coffee.”

“Actually, I wanted to use your darkroom.” Rosie had almost forgotten about that.

Rosie followed the doctor through a hatch in the floor to a basement. Even that made her uncomfortable. The doctor left her to work in the pitch black, then red light, returning with hot sandwiches and cold beer.

The doctor handed her a little box, square with a lens. Rosie didn’t know what it was. Wright unclipped an x-ray and turned on a square wall light. She fed the strip of film into the box and put the lens to her eye.

“Not bad. Steady hand, good eye. Framing and composition needs work.” She handed the box over and Rosie used it to view the negatives.

“What do you mean? “Rosie asked, keen to get advice from another photographer.

“See here.” Doctor Wright took a strip of film and put it into the enlarger. She twisted the apparatus flat, projecting a blown up version of Rosie’s photo.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” Rosie walked closer, taking in the details and blocking the light.

“See in the corner, you caught the edge of a building.” Wright pointed. “If you’d zoomed in.” She adjusted the enlarger, cropping out some of the image, leaving a cleaner looking picture of the Boston skyline in reversed black and white.

“Can I show you something...weird?” Rosie had missed bouncing ideas of someone. She found the picture of the supposedly dead raider and enlarged the view of the body.

“Five five six?” Doctor Wright asked the bullet calibre as she drew closer.

“Tips filed down to make them subsonic.” Rosie saw Wright impressed with the idea.

“How long after you shot him is this?” Wright asked.

“Seconds.” Rosie answered, her face convincing Wright

“He isn’t bleeding. There should be blood pumping out of him like a broken pipe.” Wright looked at her. Even in the low light Rosie saw another hungry mind latching onto something that made no sense. “That is very weird.”

“The weird part is that a few seconds later he got up and started throwing punches.” Rosie felt better sharing the encounter.

“You get checked out?” Wright asked, turning the lights back on.

“I’m fine.” Rosie dismissed the concern.

“Doctors make the worst patients.” She kicked a stool over to Rosie. “Sit.”

“Could be an exotic anomaly, situs inversus.” Wright suggested a theory as she shined a light in Rosie’s eyes. “Organs reversed, meaning you missed his heart. Any blurred vision or ringing in your ears?”

“No.” Rosie answered. “And it wouldn’t explain the headshot.”

“Brains are funky. Fella here took a stray thirty eight to the head and lived. Any nausea?” Wright continued.

“No. A stray round isn’t the same as a straight shot at point blank range.” Rosie replied.

“Any chance the bullets are defective, shattered on impact maybe.” Wright thought of something Rosie hadn’t.

“Shot plenty of other people with them and had no complaints.” Rosie heard herself. “Because they were dead. And they deserved it.”

“I’m sure they did.” Wright sat down. “You’re fine. A few days somewhere warm might be a good idea.” Wright leant back, Rosie felt herself being assessed. “I can put you up.”

“How do you feel about dogs and robots?”

“So that was my weekend.” Rosie said to the recording. “You’d like her, I like her. I like that I made a friend.” She found it easier to share in a one sided conversation. “Well that’s pretty much it for now. Wright told me about a farm run by robots, going to check it out in the morning.” Saying goodbye always got to her. “Tell Matthew and Wallace I said hi. I miss you.” Rosie paused the recording. She didn’t want him to hear her cry, not trapped down there. “I love you John, now and always.” She stopped the recording, saving it to be sent as soon as it could be received.

Rosie took in the view from her camp, finding solace in the unknown world before her. She'd picked out the roof of an old skyscraper. The empty pool her landing pad and only accessible from the air.

Rosie clipped her simple metal and canvas bed together then laid out her bedroll. She checked the carbine and made sure it lay within reach. Rosie kicked off her boots and stretched out flat, staring at the stars.

Fenris whined to the side of her. “Fine.” Rosie made what little room she could. Fenris took the room he needed. “Don’t tell John.” Her rule about dogs and beds had been relaxed.

Her last thoughts before drifting off were of John, until Fenris started barking. “Janey.” Rosie leapt from her bed, carbine gripped tight.

“I am detecting unusual signals in the electromag…” The light in Janey’s eye dimmed as she powered down. Rosie went for her, only for noise and white light to overwhelm her senses.