Fallout 4 Buddy Cops

Silver Shroud Start

It's a rare quiet evening in the office. Ellie had already clocked off a few hours ago to go on a date.

Nick is using the down time to type out the latest case rapport. The Silver Shroud is hidden in a corner, reading through some cold case files. Sometimes scribbling down his own theories, but largely staying so unmoving he blends into the background, as he seems to prefer.

With a satisfying Ding! from the typewriter, Nick finishes his task. He puts the paper into the correct folder, lights up another cigaret and just stares into space for a moment. Background programs doing their thing while he contemplates.

Finally, Nick breaks the silence between them.

"Say Shroud,"

"Mh?"

"There's something i've been meaning to ask you."

The vigilante puts the file he's been studying down, giving his attention to the synth.

"Why the Silver Shroud?"

The Vigilante shrugs. "The Shroud Secured me a Purpose Pleasing People. Shielding the innocent, Judging the guilty."

"Ungh." Nick rolls his eyes. "That is a coockiecutter awnser and you know it. cmon, Why'd you feel the need for a new identity in the first place? Who were you before the Shroud?"

"My ldentity ls Irrelivant." The Shroud insist agitatedly.

"ls it." Nick shoots back more confrontational now. "Who are you realy? Some sort of criminal? Got a famous face? Or do you think you're not good enough without a mask to hide behind?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~

-When evil walks the streets of Boston, one man lurks in the shadows. That guardian is... the Silver Shroud!-

An unnamed drifter sits against the cold concrete in one of the many allyways in Goodneigbor. it stinks of garbage and piss, but he feels hidden here, as he listens intently to his handheld radio. One of the few possesions he can claim his own. Allowing him to listen to galaxy news radio, a bright point in his otherwise darkgray life.

"Calling all Silver Shroud Fans! I got an urgent mission. If you're a true fan stop by the Memory Den and t-talk to Kent Connolly. The Silver Shroud needs you!"

A silenced 10mm hangs at the drifters hip, swaying in an ill fitting holster as he stands.

'Why not?' He thinks as he stumbles his way on unsteady legs towards the memory den. 'if anything there might be a few caps in it.'

The building looms over him like some sort of omen, the shadow swallowing him even as the neon letters cut brightly through the afternoon drizzle. The memory den is the one place in town the drifter avoided going as much as in spitting distance of. He doesn't want to remember, doesn't have anything worth dredging back up.

The drifter resolutely ignores the chairs and the pretty dame that calls out to him. He walks up to the side room holding the radio equipment his favorite show is played off of. Knocking twice, he enters without waiting for an awnser.

"Ah!? Uhm, yes. Can- can i help you?" A shy looking Ghoul stares at him, startled. How strange. In the time he's been here he's actually never seen the face belonging to the voice he listens to every night.

Oh right words. He has to speak. How long has it been since he's had a conversaton with anyone? He's forgotten. Probably for the best.

"Yeh-" His voice breaks and he clears his throat. The drifter looks around the room, eyes falling to a Silver Shroud cardboard cutout. Confident, Charming. Effortlessly Enigmatic. He wishes he was more like the Shroud. The Mistress of Mysteries standing out in a poster with multiple caracters catches his attention as well. She has such a unique way of speaking, he's always loved listening to her voice.

"I Heard your... Herald for Help. On-on the radio." The drifter tries, the words feeling foreign on his tongue.

Kent looks pleasantly surprised. "Oh! Yes. I, heh. l wasn't sure if anyone would come, let alone so fast. You must be a fan huh?"

The man nods. "They're the best detective dramas in the whole world."

"w-well i've been thinkin; What if the Silver Shroud was real? With his black trench coat and gleaming silver submachine gun?

I got a plan to bring him to life. So he can fight bad guys and give the rest of us a symbol of something better." Kent gestures exidedly as he speaks.

"But to make this work, I still need the most important piece. The genuine Silver Shroud costume herself. And they actually got one, here in Boston. They made it for the TV show.

Before the bombs fell, they were filming the Silver Shroud pilot over at Hubris Comics. You get that and there'll be some caps in it for you. If not, I-I understand."

"I Shall Search for the Shrouds...Stuff." The drifter feels kind of silly. He should learn more words.

~

The drifter is sneaking through the feral ghoul infested comic shop and seriously debating ditching the job.

He did find a lot of cool fan merch. But non of it would be worth anything against the horde.

On second thought, the Grognak battle axe might mow the monsters down with relative ease.

He has yet to find what he's looking for. There is still a floor left to search. The sound of shuffling steps drifts down through the ceiling.

He makes his way up on the last set of creaky stairs. There! The coat and the hat, oh she is gorgeous.

With his eyes glued on his prize the drifter doesn't notice the green glow behind the curtain until its too late. A glowing one jumps him, growling and limbs flailing. Panicking he stumbles back triggering the other ferals in the attic. The ensuing fight lures more ghouls from downstairs. It quickly turns into a fight for his life.
As he swings the axe to create some space it triggers something within him in turn. He's enjoying this. The thrill of dodging Death. Adrenaline thrumming through his veins making him higher than any chem ever could.

The last feral falls amoung the pile of its brethern rotting at his feet. The drifter pants, out of breath. He's scratched up, sweaty, bruised, bitten and in desperate need for some radaway and a bath. But he's alive. He is victorious.

The drifter quickly gathers up everything Shroud relatred and escapes through the roof exit before another wave of ferals can make their way up the stairs.

He jumps from rooftop to rooftop, climbs rusted fire escapes and drops down a drainpipe near Goodneighbors entrance.

~

Night falls as he crosses the towns treshhold. Goodneighbor. The first place that hasn't shuned him. Hasn't kicked him out or turned hm away. Because its full of people just like him. Outcasts, unmentionables, People that are unwelcomed anywhere else.

The drifter wants to help more people just like this. Perhaps It's time to give back the goodness Goodneighbor shown him.

He'll need a name.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Shroud paces though the small office like a caged tiger. "I was Nothing. A Nobody Noone Noticed. Fame and Fortune Feel Frivoulous, Still I Seek to be Seen. The Shroud is who I am now. I Changed when I Chose to Care."