Fallout 4: AR

12. Baby Steps

The next morning, the very first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a can of purified water on the table within arm's reach. It was a very welcome sight, as the vodka had given me a terrible thirst. Sipping gratefully, I turned over the events from the day before in my mind. So, I accidentally exposed an undetermined amount of my life to a couple of strangers. I am still alive, mostly sane in this fucked-up world, and the parties in question are still civil. Hell, my mercenary guard even apologized for how he had been treating me. It could be a lot worse. It seemed every day, every crisis was getting a little easier to roll with the punches, just like MacCready had said. Baby steps, baby steps.

As if my thought summoned him, the sniper opened the door to the room, agilely balancing two trays in his hand. "Good morning, Boss." The food looked the same as every other meal we'd had in Goodneighbor, lumps of unidentifiable subsistence lightly covered in a watery sauce. But it was hot and filled the belly, so what was the point in complaining? At least it stayed down... mostly. I scooted over to make room on the couch.

As we ate, we discussed my options. Getting home looked like it was turning into a long-term pursuit, much to my distress. I shared the lead that Irma gave me and he considered it. "I've heard of this Valentine fellow," he said, thoughtfully. "He's a detective. That's all I know. But he may be able to point us in the right direction. Probably worth a shot."

Leaving Goodneighbor had me a little apprehensive, but I was better prepared now. I had weapons, ammunition, and a hired mercenary to watch my back. While MacCready and I packed our gear, he told me about the dangers of the Commonwealth outside the walled communities. Raiders- humans who were little more than savage gangs, taking what they wanted from who they wanted and killing anything that got in their way. Ferals- Ghouls who were mindless killing machines, endlessly hungering, not at all like Hancock or Daisy. Super Mutants- giant green-skinned humanoids with homicidally violent tendencies and a taste for human flesh. To round it all off, there were various forms of mutated animals and random robots run amok. "I'll tell ya, Boss," MacCready had commented wryly, "it's no picnic to travel the Wasteland. You need to stay sharp and keep your weapon at the ready."

"Will do. Do you know where Diamond City is?" I stared at the map screen on my Pip-Boy. It was still distressingly blank.

"Sure," he replied confidently. "I haven't been there in a while, though. They're pretty uptight, don't like Ghouls or mercenaries." He motioned to my arm. "I can show you on your map, if you want."

"What, really?" Charlie had marked the warehouses on my map before, but I thought only another machine could do that.

"Yeah, sure. Anyone can mark a location on your Pip-Boy's map if you let them." He grinned ruefully, taking off his cap to run his hand through his hair. "I didn't bother before 'cause I thought it was part of Hancock messing with me, remember?" He took my arm, angling the screen so we could both see it, and showed me how to mark a location using the touchscreen controls. I learned that I could even tell my map to remember a specific point, leading me back to that pinned mark from anywhere. "Comes in handy if you have too much loot to carry and need to stash something."

"Thanks, MacCready. You're a wealth of useful information."

"And the best gun in the Commonwealth," he added lightly with a cocky grin.

We left Goodneighbor in the clear light of mid-morning. Diamond City was a good three hour trek across the length of ruined Boston, not counting any resistance we might face along the way. I kept the map screen selected, watching as the arrow marker made its torturous way towards our goal. There was also a compass-like bar at the top of the screen, which made reckoning by cardinal directions a breeze. We walked along the streets, our meandering path necessary to skirt impassable sections of the city.