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After my run in with the survivor from Vault 111 in Diamond City, I decided to accompany him on his quest. I’m not entirely sure what he’s in search of but he seems determined and I know that he’s hiding some deep pain. Perhaps one day he will tell me. If not, I’ll find out. I always do.
For days, we walked the Wasteland. I saw parts of the Commonwealth I had never seen. Armed with my trusty pistol, I gave him cover from the nasties that call the Wasteland home. He seems to have a never-ending supply of ammo for his Legendary laser rifle and I soon found that, while I can handle myself within the cesspit that is Diamond City I am out of my depth here. Put Mayor McDonough in my sights and I’ll take him down with one round. Against these mutated dogs, mole rats and bloatflies and I’m gasping for breath and letting him wipe them out before he injects me with a stimpak. Feminism just got set back by a few centuries.
I wonder why he keeps me around. I mean, almost every confrontation we get into I end up feeling like I’ve been sucker punched and sit the fight out while he drops one after another. He seems to go into this kind of trance every so often and that’s when he’s deadliest. I just hope he doesn’t develop a disliking for journalists. Maybe I can pick up a trick or two from him as we head across the Wasteland to a place he calls ‘Sanctuary’. He says he helped rebuild the place. Something to do with the Minutemen. It’s my curiosity that keeps me going. He’s either delusional from his time frozen in the vault or there’s even more to him than I think.
I write this as I rest in a shack in the middle of nowhere. He’s cross-legged by the campfire outside reading a Grognak The Barbarian comic (whatever the Hell that is). He rarely sleeps and I’m pretty sure we’re in Deathclaw territory. I know I can sleep safely with him on guard. I can feel my eyes closing heavily with the eery, green glow of his Pipboy washing over me.
Hopefully my fractured shin will be healed by morning.
Until next time, readers.