At The Precipice Of Something New

Something Wrong

The Commonwealth
May the 8th, 2288
18:22

Lost.

It had been storming for days and, while being able to come out from the shelter of an old, abandoned subway station was a relief, it was also disorienting.

There was still a heavy cover of mist and fog hanging over the Commonwealth, but the rain itself had stopped, and the radiation levels from the first few days of the storm had subsided enough to be safe. Taking another look at her Pip-Boy and its Geiger counter, Nora waited for the reading to finish and then, when it was done and it was clear the levels were still low and safe, adjusted her bag on her shoulders. Nearby, Cait was playing with Dogmeat, who stood up on his hind legs to brush his paws against her chest and reach up to affectionately lick her face. Seeing the former cage fighter laughing, Nora couldn't help but smile. After just shy of a week stuck taking shelter in an abandoned subway station, being back in the fresh air was a relief. And it's nothing like the Vault. Maybe Vault-Tec had been onto something, trying to build a Vault in Park Street Station. Never thought I'd see a subway station that way...but I guess that's the case with just about everything. Jumping when she heard footsteps behind her, Nora reached for her gun but, seeing it was only Nick, tried to shake herself out. Dogmeat had been able to keep his nose on the few samples of Kellogg's scent they still had. They hadn't come into much resistance, though whether that were luck or simply because, it seemed, they were in the middle of nowhere was unclear.

And it seemed all the more likely, now they were back above ground, they were lost.

Petting Dogmeat around his ears one more time, Cait finally stood up, and whistled for the eager German shepherd to follow her. Letting out a happy bark, Dogmeat all but chased her over to where Nick and Nora were standing in wait. Then, he began circling Nick, Nora, and finally Cait around their legs again, his tail wagging happily. Something of a routine of his, Dogmeat waited to be presented with a scent to pursue. When Nick removed one of Kellogg's half smoked cigars from one of the growing number of evidence bags for the friendly dog to sniff, Dogmeat perked up, ears and tail at attention. Satisfied he had the scent, Dogmeat barked and began off again, slowing when he didn't hear them quickly following after him. He stared at Nick as he resealed and put the evidence bag back in one of his inner coat pockets, and sat up, waiting for the lawyer, the detective, and the former cage fighter to catch up to him. The second they were, he took off again in a swift fury. Quick on her feet, Cait only paused a moment to take off her jacket, the weather surprisingly warm for being just two days past the end of a major storm.

What was the most disconcerting to Nora, however, was the fact it was impossible to tell if any of the trees or rusted out cars or anything else had gotten there after the storm, or if they had been there well before the first lightning strikes reached the ground. What must all of it have looked like in the days just after the War ended? How much of it has stayed that way since? The War. The subject gnawed away at her a little bit each day, but the worst of it came when she remembered the War was far longer than most of the people in the two centuries since thought of it. It didn't happen in a day. Shit, the US and China had been at war, actively, since before I was born. Started with the US and Russia, then extended to the US, Russia, and China. That's what we were always told in school, and every day started with a minute of silence to honour the fallen followed by the Pledge. Every single day. Was it really normal? Something in the back of her mind whispered it was, and another whispered it wasn't. Yet what startled her was the realisation of just how many weapons she had on her body. Her steps faltering, Nora looked down at her hands, the weight of her .44 revolver pistol suddenly feeling almost painful. When she holstered it, she noticed the switchblade she had tied to her left boot, and –