Nuked

Round Two | Specialist

When the wall above his head exploded, Nick Valentine thought he maybe should have brought backup.

This missing persons case was turning out to be more dangerous than he'd originally thought. Based on the information Piper had been able to get, he'd thought for sure that the Perkins girl was dead. With the amount of raiders guarding this house, however, he wasn't so sure.

He drew his trusty pipe revolver, staying low to the ground as he skirted the wall. Bullet holes riddled the side of the house, and he adjusted his fedora before ducking into the building. It was a dank place, and he was happy that the damage to the side of his mechanical face had blown out his sense of smell years ago.

The irradiated wallpaper curling down looked commonplace here in the nuclear apocalypse, and he didn't even bat an eye at the dilapidation of the building. If anything it was a feat that it was still standing.

Bambraaaaapapppbambam!

Nick dove down a hallway as bullets whizzed by, tearing up the stairwell behind him. Splinters hit the floor like a hailstorm and he narrowed his glowing yellow eyes at the telltale clickclick of an empty chamber.

There was a muffled whimper. He took in a deep breath, knowing that this was it now.

The robotic detective surged around the corner, trench coat billowing behind him, revolver singing each crack like a hymn as the bullets found their marks. Bodies fell, guns cocked, enemy bullets grazed, but in the end Nick stood in the center of a smattering of flesh and armour.

He loathed killing, but this was the way of the world now.

He reloaded his gun, inhuman eyes sweeping the space, and caught a glimpse of movement in the corner. A flash of bare leg, disappearing behind a dresser. Nick knew there was nothing he could say to comfort this girl, nothing he could do but get her home.

The outer wall groaned and he had just enough forethought to leap backwards before the wood imploded with a deafening roar.

The dripping teeth of a deathclaw snapped inches from Nick's head and he scrabbled forward, hoping to use the beast's disorientation to get underneath to the girl. Scales glinted in the evening sun as the mutated monster shrieked at him, tearing out chunks of wall in its wake.

The girl screamed at the sight of Nick's half torn face—something that he was used to, being the gnarled synthetic human he was. But there was no time for this now. He grasped her by the arm and jerked her behind him, revolver loosing rounds at the beam above the deathclaw.

The ceiling collapsed on top of the beast and Nick turned sharply towards the rear of the house, which thankfully had no wall anymore. He sprinted out onto the sand of the beach, which was likely once an amazing vacation house before the world went to shit.

The girl had enough sense not to ask questions, not to fight, just to run, and for that the old detective was thankful.