After escaping Skinny Malone and his bumbling goons, Nick Valentine and I ran back to Diamond City under the cover of night. Thankfully, with targets harder to see, people get a lot less trigger happy. Of course Ellie was ecstatic. She’s a cute kid, and I’m fairly certain she has a crush on our mutual robot friend. He was all business though, and wanted to take down my case as soon as we were back at his office.
Reliving that moment when my baby was stolen was…rough. To say the least. But I gave them every detail I possibly could. What the man and woman were wearing, how they talked, what they said. And his face. With that bald head and that nasty scar across his left eye. Not dissimilar to the scar I have now from that monster that attacked me in the power suit. As soon as I mentioned the scar, Ellie and Nick both went quiet.
“You don’t think–?” Ellie trailed off.
“What? Who is it? Give me a name, goddammit!” I demanded.
It’s only been four days since I woke up from the Vault, and I’ve already had to kill 78 men in order to survive this horrible world. That’s right, I’ve kept count. I thought I would forget after the second dozen or so, but I can’t. The killing doesn’t get easier, but I hate to admit I’m getting better at it.
Dogmeat and I left the Red Rocket early in the morning and made our way south toward Fenway Park. Or “Diamond City”, as I suppose it is known now. Before we even got far we saw two goons who looked like they were trying to rob an old lady and her son at the Drumlin Diner. I tried to be diplomatic. He stuck a gun in my face. Without thinking I tackled him, threw him over my back, and stabbed his companion in the neck, then stomped his head in before a single shot could be fired. The old lady, Trudy, was grateful. If a little frightened. Turns out they were pushers and had gotten her grandson hooked on junk, squeezing him for cash. (Sorry, “Caps”. Apparently bottlecaps are currency now.)
My name is Dorian Mooneyham and I am starting this journal because I have just had the worst day possible. In what feels, to me, like less than 24 hours, I’ve seen the world destroyed by nuclear annihilation between America and China, been frozen in an underground vault for god knows how long, watched my newborn kidnapped and my husband murdered, and woken up to find nothing but giant cockroaches and dead neighbors and a nuclear wasteland.
I used to be a counselor, before the bombs fell. Ran a youth center with my husband once he came back from the war. We finally adopted a kid of our own after clearing countless amounts of red tape and citizenship screening. Technically, women like me have every right to adopt as other women in this day and age, but in reality we have to lay on the femininity pretty thick to get through the gates. But we did it, goddammit. And after a bright flash and a cold nap, it’s all been stolen from right in front of me. Continue reading “Fallout Fridays – Lost in Time”→