POV Rio
After everyone came back, I made some time to talk with Cait.
"Hey, Cait, do you have a minute?" I ask.
"Look, if this is about the mess in Sanctuary, I don't know how I got in the tree. I just was," Cait says.
"No, this isn't about that, just I think we might need to talk. I've been noticing you have been going through some stuff," I said.
"I... I've just been goin' through some stuff. Some old memories. Things I don't want to remember," Cait responds with a distant look.
"I'm willing to listen if you want to talk about it," I say with a soft voice.
"It all starts with two wastes of humanity, I suppose you could call me parents. I'm convinced I was a mistake, because I can't remember a single moment that they treated me like their daughter. I was yelled at and beaten. Everythin' I did was wrong. Nothin' but a nuisance in their eyes. The whole time I was tellin' meself that they had to love me, even if it was just the tiniest bit, because they never kicked me out. Then me eighteenth birthday arrived, and I found out why they kept me around. They slapped a shock collar around me neck and sold me to slavers. They didn't even care enough about me to say goodbye. Eighteen years of sufferin' through that shite, and all I was worth to them was a pocketful of caps," Cait recounts with venom.
"I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that was like," I respond with a feeling of both rage and empathy towards Cait's parents and Cait, respectively.
"Thanks, but there's more to the story. It would be easy to blame me charmin' personality on me parents. But they didn't make me this way, I did. I was with those slavers for five years. Roughest five of me goddamn life. The things they made me do... the way they used me for their amusement. It sickens me to my stomach even thinkin' about it," Cait says while shuddering.
"But I bidded me time and learned to use their own methods against them. Stealin' a few caps out of a sleepin' man's pocket is a piece of cake... as long as you don't get greedy," Cait says to give some advice.
"Scum the lot of them. The sooner their kind is exterminated, the better," I respond with vitriol towards such disgusting wastes of humanity.
"That we can agree on. But if you think that's low? Just wait. The story gets much worse. It took every ounce of patience I had, but after five years I had finally pocketed enough to buy me own way outta there... But instead of headin' off to try and repair the shambles of me life, I gave in to me rage and I headed home. You can imagine the look on me parents faces when I kicked open their door. What you can't imagine is what they looked like after... after I emptied me gun into them," Cait says with a broken voice and a shake all over her body.
"You may have done so with the wrong mind, but I think you did the right thing," I say quietly.
"Was it the right thing or was it murder? When I close me eyes, all I can see is their faces twisted with fear. And then me mind starts wanderin' and I start judgin' myself. And it's rippin' me the fuck apart! You think I inject myself with all that shite and drink myself drunk because I'm a tough Irish gal? I do it so I can forget and move on with me miserable life," Cait ends with a raised voice and a sad exhale.
"So there you are. The entire flawed package known as Cait, stripped bare for your perusal," Cait says with a broken look.
"I'm proud of how far you've come. It takes real strength to not only open up to someone about these things but to still maintain some sense of morals even after all that has happened to you," I respond firmly.
"I knew I was takin' a chance tellin' you all this, but I never expected you to say you were proud of me. I... I think I needed to hear that from you. Thank you," Cait responds with a much happier smile.
"You need to realize that most people in your shoes wouldn't be strong enough. They would break. And not in the way you think. They would become the abusers. They would turn to Raiding. They would become the very scum that messed them up, so they could feel better about themselves. You don't want to hear the statistics of Child Abuse effects on adults, but I want you to know that I am beyond proud to call you my friend, and I think you should have much more faith in yourself," I say before hugging Cait.
Sniff Sniff
I hear Cait sniffling, and I can hear the tears dropping from her face, but I don't let go and let her let it all out. After about 3 minutes of crying, Cait breaks the hug and smiles at me with the most at peace I have ever seen her.
"Thank you. Thank you for everythin'. I think I needed that more than I realized, and before you ask, I'll go easier on the liquor," Cait says, but before I can respond, she gets up and quickly walks away.
I know she needs some space, so I let her have it. As I was getting ready to go, I overheard the radio and decided to turn it up.
"This is Lightbringer Radio — and if you're hearing this, get down, get low, and get ready," DJ Pon-3 says.
"An orbital strike. From the stars themselves. Fire raining from the sky over the Wasteland," says DJ Pon-3 with some background noises of explosions.
"No one's sure who fired it, some say an old pre-war weapon system gone rogue, others whisper about the remnants of the Enclave or a secret satellite still orbiting, watching, waiting. But I got it from a reliable source that... That was a one-and-done deal. That specific weapon is all out of ammo. But that doesn't mean it doesn't spook us," DJ Pon-3 says with a pause in her breath.
"Lightbringer Radio will keep the signal alive as long as we can. Hold on to hope, even when fire falls from the heavens. Now, how about some upbeat tunes to lighten up your soul? This next song is called I Burn by Jeff and Casey Lee Williams," DJ Pon-3 says before turning the music on.
"Heh, of course it's this song," I say aloud.
"So this is where you've been hiding?" Nick says as he comes around the corner.
"Oh, hey Nick, what's up?" I ask.
"Not much, just wanted to talk. You see, you've been quite up front with me. I know a heck of a lot about you, but I haven't been reciprocating. I figured I'd offer to balance the board. So, there anything you want to know?" Nick asks.
"Hmm, why the outfit? You seem really attached to it. To the point of refusing to wear other things?" I ask.
"Haha, after I started the agency, it just seemed like the sorta thing a detective ought to wear. I got some old memories, prewar, faded to all heck, of guys dressed like this, doin' what I do. Puttin' on the hat and trenchcoat, I figured it let folks know I was serious about the whole thing. 'Clothes make the man' and all that. Guess I felt they made me the man I wanted to be," Nick said.
"And who is that, Nick?" I ask.
"That's a question I've been trying to figure out myself for a long damn time. I know I'm a synth, authentic Institute handiwork. But I'm still mechanical, not bioengineered like the fancy synths giving everyone the willies these days. I get tune-ups now instead of check-ups. But my memories, my personality, they're all lifted from some cop who volunteered for an experiment back before the war. They scanned his brain and copied it onto the hardware that runs between my ears. Don't know why they chose to make a robot based on some pre-war cop instead of a math genius or a bioengineer. But hey, maybe that's why the Institute tossed me in the garbage instead of turning me into one of their people snatchers," Nick responded with a bit of confusion clear in his tone.
"The trash heap, huh? That doesn't sound like the Institute. They recycle almost everything. But I can look into the Institute's records. I am sure they must have something about you," I offer.
"You'd do that for me? Really?" Nick asks with some hope.
"Of course. In fact I will give you access to the files. You can look through it and see if there is any info you've been looking for. But back to your life story," I respond.
"Thank you, I really mean that. Now where were we? Ah yeah, I remember waking up one day in a garbage heap, a body in tatters and a head full of memories belonging to a man who'd been dead for 200 years. Suffice to say it was a confusing couple of weeks. Folks didn't really know much about synths back then, so when I finally ran into people, they mostly treated me with caution rather than hostility. But the kids, they weren't afraid. I think his name was Jim. The first person to actually speak to me after I got the boot from the Institute. My first human contact in this world," Nick says with a reminiscent look in his eyes.
"Grilled me for an hour. Once they'd seen I wasn't going to hurt anyone, the other folks in the neighborhood came out to ogle the mechanical man. It eventually turned into a pretty swell soiree. Local mechanic even gave me a once over, free of charge. Those people, they treated me like a human being. I've been trying to return the favor ever since. It's a surprisingly rare trait out here sometimes. Something I've noticed you got a fondness for. Part of the reason I've stuck around this long," Nick says.
"Where's that town? We should go visit," I ask, hoping that the answer would be different from what I expected.
"Sigh. I tried to go back and say thanks once I'd gotten myself established, but the place was wiped off the map. Raiders. Don't know what happened to the people," Nick says with a sad tone.
"Sigh. I feared as much. But I would still like to take a trip out there to see if someone has rebuilt or if for nothing else but to pay my respects," I respond.
"I-I'd like that. It's a ways North of an old settlement called Coastal Cottage. It's near the coast. It's... It's been a long time, but I still remember how to get there. Those people were good to me, I think it's fair I go visit," Nick responds.
"The golden rule: If you're good to people, they'll be good back. That's something I've always believed," I respond.
"Couldn't agree more. Well, I expect you're about as bored as can be listening to me rattle my skeletons. We should probably head out. And you don't have to rush over to that settlement. It can wait. I know we've got some jobs right now to deal with. Not to mention I will be busy going through those files," Nick responds.
Nick goes to leave, but then he pauses.
"If it's not too much of an issue, can we scavange any Police Stations we come across?" Nick asks.
"Sure, I have been meaning to ask about that holotape, I know you might not be ready and that's okay. But do you want the others I have?" I ask.
"You have more?" Nick asks.
"Yep, 7 more," I reply.
"What?!" Nick screams with a shocked look.
I hand over the holotapes. I had gathered most of them somewhat passively. I snuck into the Quicny Police Station when I was in the area previously. MIMIC has been scouting out Libertalia, and while doing so, they looted the holotape. As part of the agreement, we incorporated the WRVR Broadcast Station into the Mintuemen, which required us to clear out the hostile group across the river from them. That was the Coast Guard Pier, which had one of the Holotapes. It also got us another Perk Magazine. They had just delivered the loot from that excursion. The magazine was the Astoundingly Awesome Tales Issue #11, The Starlet Sniper. This gave a 5% damage increase to scoped weapons.
"Huh, then there's only one tape missing," Nick mumbles to himself.
"I know where the last tape is. It's on our way back to Goodneighbor," I respond.
"Where is it?" Nick asks with a dead serious tone.
"The BADTFL regional office," I reply calmly.
"Of course it's there. Sigh. Well, it can wait another few days. I assume we are going somewhere after this before going back to Boston?" Nick asks.
"Yes, our next stop is Covenant," I reply.
"Huh? Covenant? Hmm, I feel like I have some files about that settlement," Nick responds while trying to remember what he saw.
"We have a little more time before we get there, so maybe you will remember it then," I respond.
"Hmm, yeah," Nick says while walking away, clearly distracted.
I shrug my shoulders and recheck our supplies while listening to the radio.