Chapter Text
Nick wasn't surprised at first when he heard a fight break out on the floor above him. Skinny wasn't exactly known for hiring the most stable guards, so there was often someone screaming, shooting, or throwing empty liquor bottles at the wall.
It was only when the screams turned bloodcurdling, grenades began going off, and shots started ringing throughout the entire vault that he realized Skinny's people were getting knocked off, one by one. The two goons outside of his room were either too high or too distracted to notice.
Just as he was wondering if it was a group of raiders, a bullet hit one of the henchman square in the head. Blood and grey matter coated the window behind him, painting the dirty glass in a layer of crimson.
"What the fuck?" The second guard whipped around, but before he could even grab his pistol, his brains were on the wall.
Nick could hear the sound of boots on metal getting a little closer to where he was. "Hey, you?" He called out after some hesitation. Better getting shot by a raider than sit and rust to death after they clean the place out, he figured. "I don't know who you are, but we got three minutes before they realize muscles-for-brains ain't coming back."
He heard the intruder attempt to open the metal door, but it didn't budge. "There's no lock on my end. You gotta use that terminal," he shouted. After a brief pause, he heard the whir of the computer booting up, followed by frantic typing. As the deadbolt on the door turned and the hinges squeaked with the weight, he saw who was on the other end.
It was a woman. Nick wasn't very good with human ages, but he'd guessed around mid-twenties. She was petite, pale, and wearing an old vault suit. A wild mane of curly auburn hair framed her round face and high cheekbones. She pushed up her glasses and finally spoke.
"Nick Valentine?"
He was surprised by two things. One was her knowing his name, and the other was the fact that it looked like this tiny woman had just broken into a vault and killed a dozen drugged-out goons. He chuckled softly at the situation.
"Gotta love the the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario," he said, stepping out of the doorframe to meet his savior. "Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?"
The woman was busy looking him up and down. It was a reaction that he was used to seeing, but he would be lying if he said he didn't feel a pang of self-consciousness in the back of his head whenever he got it. Most humans were immediately cautious, scared, even disgusted when they first met him.
Instead, all he got was "Are you hurt?"
"What? No, I'm fine," he waved. "The only thing that matters is why you went to all this trouble to cut me loose."
"I - I need help finding someone," she said, casting her eyes down at the floor. "It's kind of a long story, and I don't know where he is or.." she took a deep breath. "Or even if he's alive."
Nick could tell she was upset. He was never good at comforting people, especially now that they tended to recoil at his touch, so he decided to keep it businesslike.
"Hey, don't worry. Finding missing people is my bag. You've come to the right man - though, uh, not the right place."
She looked back up and smiled. "I'm Nora." She held out her hand and took a step forward. He shook it, making sure not to use the hand that was essentially stripped of flesh - that never made a good impression. His hand dwarfed hers. Her nails were in good shape, something he almost never saw out in the Commonwealth.
She was even shorter than he'd thought she was. Nick was used to being a bit taller than a lot of women, but he easily towered two heads over her. "Nick Valentine," he said, "though I guess you already know that."
Nora sifted through her shoulderbag and fished out a pistol, handing it to him. "Let's get out of here."
"Lead the way, ma'am," Nick gestured.
The pair went back up the way Nora came down, and she occasionally would stop to grab things out of lockers or behind doorways. She had an eye for picking the good stuff out from the junk. She was quick, so he couldn't complain.
It was a little awkward at first, the only sounds being rusty hinges or empty bottles clattering to the ground. "How long did they keep you down here?" Nora finally asked.
"I've been cooped up in here for weeks. Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn't kidnapped," he grumbled, handing her a carton of purified water he'd found on top of a high shelf. "She's Skinny Malone's new flame, and she's got a mean streak."
She tisked. "Always with the bad boys."
That ilicited a short, dry laugh from the detective. "You can say that again. Malone's crew here used to be small time, muscled out of the old neighborhood by bigger players. Until they found this place."
"I'll give them points for style," she replied, grabbing an unopened bottle of vodka and stashing it in her bag.
They didn't speak again until they ascended another flight of stairs. "More stairs? Who built this damn Vault, a fitness instructor?" She giggled, almost a little too enthusiastically. He couldn't help but grin. At least the gal had a sense of humor.
"Skinny Malone and the rest of his boys are waiting for us, somewhere. The name's, uh, ironic, but don't let that fool you. He's dangerous."
"It'll be easy to hear him coming, then," she said, checking the clip on her rifle to make sure it was loaded.
They soon approached one of the last doors to freedom. Nick made quick work of the terminal there. He'd always been good with security systems - whether or not that was an inherent thing with synths or not, he never knew.
"Okay, I got it," He whispered. "But I hear big, fat footsteps on the other side. Once we step through this door, get ready for anything."
She nodded, brows knit together in concentration. She gripped her gun a little tighter as Nick opened the door.
There was a swarm of them, standing in a line. Malone and the woman - Darla, he remembered - were in the middle, surrounded by six of the goons. Malone ushered to his men to put their guns down.
"Nicky? What're you doin'? You come into my house. Shoot up my guys. You have any idea how much this is gonna set me back?" He grabbed the young lady tighter by the waist.
"I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell her to write home more often." He lowered his gun slightly, and Nora followed suit.
Darla giggled mockingly. "Awww... poor little Valentine. Ashamed you got beat up by a girl? I'll just run back home to daddy, shall I?"
Nora spoke up before Nick had the chance to respond. "Honey, that might be a good idea. Look at this guy. You really want him to gallivant you around the Commonwealth, getting shot at and sleeping in rusted old shacks? The dick can't possibly be that good."
Nick had to suppress a laugh at that. He wasn't expecting such an innocent-looking woman to have that kind of mouth on her.
To his surprise, Darla's smile faltered. "I - well -"
"Look at where you're at, surrounded by guns and filth. You don't want to be a part of this," Nora stood up straight, lowering her rifle to her hip. "Just go back to your family. They'll never know what happened here."
Nick's eyebrows shot up. Before he could tell his companion to be quiet, Darla bit her lip and groaned.
"I... I... You're right! What am I doing? I've gotten all mixed up!" her breath quickened before sprinting out the exit to the vault. Malone reached out for her arm, but she wrenched it away. "I'm going home to my parents. Screw you, you - you low-life gangsters," she said, voice shrill. His men stood there, silent for a moment.
"Oh, come on, Nicky! You cost me my men, now you and your friend cost me my girl?" he sounded more defeated than angry.
"My friend here just did you a favor, Skinny. You always did have bad taste in women." Nick retorted, tentatively placing a hand on Nora's shoulder.
To his surprise, he could feel her trembling. She didn't let anything reflect in her face, which still bore the confidence she'd spoken with just moments before.
"Now that she's not around to feed that temper of yours, maybe you'll see sense and let us walk? You still owe me for two weeks in the hole," Nick reasoned. He just wanted out of there.
"You smug, overconfident ass..." Malone grumbled, before screaming in anger and tossing his gun to the floor. "Fine! Go. You have ten seconds before my men pump you fulla lead."
"We better get outta here. Fast," Nick ushered Nora to a worn-down ladder as Skinny began counting. She didn't have to be told twice, and she started climbing like her life depended on it.
As he pushed the manhole covering to the side, the smell of night air, rot, and gunpowder filled his nose. The scent of the outside world. The dense, warm air wrapped around them like a blanket. The only light came from the moon hanging in the sky, and from the few remaining street lamps. "Ah, look at that Commonwealth sky. Never thought anything so naturally ominous could end up looking so inviting," he quipped, turning back around when he heard his companion sigh.
Nora leaned backwards onto a brick wall, sliding down it as her knees gave out. She was panting, and her trembling had intensified to full-body tremors.
"Woah, hey, kid," Nick rushed to her side, crouching beside her. "It's gonna be alright, we're safe."
She nodded. Her eyes were closed and she had her hands behind her head. "Y - yeah, I know," she said shakily. "I just need a minute."
"You new to this?"
"Yeah."
"Well, color me surprised. You did great back there. Take your time, I'll see if I can find us somewhere you can hunker down for a while."
A sound from behind them made him shoot up, reaching for the gun he'd borrowed.
"Don't worry, Detective. Dogmeat's with me."
He looked down at her and back down the alleyway, where a large german shephard mix was trotting towards them.
"Hey, boy!" She said, weakly gesturing towards him. Dogmeat's nails clicked on the sidewalk as he ran up to her and started licking her face. Valentine smirked at the situation, and she must have noticed, because she started giggling. He'd seen that mutt wandering around Diamond City, and it seemed like he finally met someone to travel with.
"I left him out here in case I didn't make it back out," she explained, giving the dog a scratch behind the ears.
"Well, that's a little morbid," he said, blinking down at her. She shrugged. Her shaking had died down now that her canine companion was near.
"You mind if I keep you two here, look for somewhere more comfortable to sit?"
She shook her head. "No, I don't mind. Awful kind of you."
He smiled. "Don't worry about it, I feel like I owe you several favors by this point."