The Scars of War

Prologue

The following was inspired by Fallout 4. This is a fanfiction featuring characters shown in the game. I take no credit in the creation of various characters. This novel takes place roughly 20 years before the main character emerges from the cryogenic capsule.

Prologue

Stetin looked out over the vast wasteland at the top of the stadiums in Diamond City. DC wasn't that beautiful. It used to be called 'Fenway Park' before the Great War. Now it's basically a shanty town, fit with a private detective, police force, a market, and a mayor. It all seems organized until you realize the detective is really a thug, the police are corrupt, all the merchants try to jip you out of a fair deal and the mayor is just about, or more corrupt than the police force itself. Which makes sense.

Up the ladder and down the ladder is a popular saying in DC. That's only because all the houses are stacked on top of each other and barely anybody has any privacy except a locked door. Which isn't much when the sheet metal walls are pockmarked with rusted out holes. The market was about the only place with enough space to breathe properly without getting a lung full of the odor of sweat, rotting wood, and a dead mole rat that never got cleaned out from under the floorboards.

Stetin called this home, and that was only because Nate Valentine was looking after him. Nate is the private detective, the only part that seems to give credit to the thuggish statement is that he's an old synth who got disconnected from his hive mind or whatever that used to control him. He doesn't like to talk about his past with the Institute, the organization that created the synths. He claims that his memory was wiped soon after they discarded him as a failed prototype, Stetin always doubted there was more inside that cybernetic head of his.

Stetin usually helps around the with the case work. Mostly filing dead cases when the secretary doesn't have time. He learns a little bit of the trade here and there as Nate and Ellie discuss motives, tactics, personalities and other types of things related to private investigation. One time there was a case on an old man who was thought to be murdered. Upon investigation of his house a grenade bouquet (a hanging trio of grenades that fall on the victim when triggered) was released and the whole house went up in flames, ultimately killing the old man who fell to his own paranoia over a synth invasion. The explosion made a hole in the floor, exposing a young couple procreating. Nate got out and laughed when he saw the damage.

Stetin didn't really mind living with a synth, Nate was just as human as him. Just with metal bones and plastic skin. Stetin quite frankly like spending time with Nate, he loved the moments when Nate was flipping through a case and talking about the person, motives, personality and other matters relating to the investigative work Nate seemed to have found himself trapped in. Nate was mostly talking to himself or Ellie, but Stettin came to enjoy the accent with a slight robotic buzz.

Stetin was sitting on the roof of the tallest junk tower. when Nate arrived behind Stetin. "What a view!" Nate said sarcastically

"Better inside the wall then working on some farm, or worse, dead" Stetin replies.

"I wanted to give you something,"

Nate pulls out a small pipe pistol. Rusted receiver, barrel, a screw for a trigger and iron sights, with pieces of sunbleached wood keeping the whole thing together with wraps of duct tape keeping all the pieces put together in the right places surprisingly well. This is about the best protection you can get in Diamond City, aside from the guard, but nobody trusts the guard like they should.

"Does it even shoot?" Stetin criticized the gun.

"More efficient than that switchblade of yours." Nate replied, offering the gun handle first to Stetin.

"What's the catch?"

"No catch, it's your birthday. At the age of 19 I would think you should have better protection if you were to ever set out in the world outside these walls,"

Stetin took the gun and aimed down the sights. "Can't even aim with these sights!" he earned himself a glare, "But it's better than nothing, thanks."

"You're welcome. Come with me, I have another gift."

Stetin followed Nate to his offices and noticed an additional desk and coat. The offices barely passed as bigger than a closet. Filing cabinets lined the walls. There is one coat rack tucked in a corner by the front door, which kept the patched trenchcoats Nate found stylish from getting dirtier than they already were. The desks themselves had stacks of paper piled on them. Ellie's desk had a typewriter, Nate's had barely anything on it. The third desk had 3 foot tall stacks of paper covering every square inch of its surface.

Nate patted the chair adjacent to that desk and said, "Welcome to the business,"

Stetin looked at Nate the same way you would look at a brahmin if it spoke anything other than 'moo'

Nate gave a low chuckle, "I'm serious, the job is yours. You could refuse but there isn't much job opportunity in DC."

"There's a catch to this though, I know it." Stetin grinned.

"Yes, actually there is! I need you to discard any papers if they relate to dead cases, clients, locations, and next of kin. File any that are recent or what you might pursue later down the line. Today is cleaning day for you, as well as your birthday,"

Stetin hated cleaning out one filing cabinet, let alone all of them. He didn't complain because he had no room to complain. He was just given an occupation. He doesn't want to throw away this civilized opportunity.

There was a trashcan fire outside the door, Stetin noticed all the papers were in chronological order and burned three whole stacks before he started to actually examine the case files. He kept a rare few for his own investigation and filed even fewer. Cleaning day to Nate means a fresh start to the business. Not a clean slate, but it's better to have a few cases to worry about than thousands piling up over a year.

Nate and Ellie observed Stetin's quick and efficient system of what to keep.

"We did good with this one," Nate commented to Ellie.

"What? You think we qualify as parents now?"

"No, but pretty damned close,"