[ Nick Valentine has made it his business to find what's lost. Rarely does he turn folks away from his doorstep, and sometimes he even ventures out to Goodneighbor to make himself available to those unable to get past the front gates of Diamond City. He helps who needs helping, because if he doesn't, who will?
Work comes in all forms, all shapes and sizes, because early one evening, he receives a certain client, who dumps about fifty bottle caps on his desk — evidently all the caps she owns. Before he can even get a word out, she splays both hands on the table's surface, leans forward, and says in no uncertain terms, "Find my sister."
Well, he can hardly deny a demand like that, now could he?
Piper Wright, it seems, is a magnet for trouble. Apparently, the last Nat had heard from her was that she intended to do some snooping around in an area known to be crawling with Raiders. And Raiders, of course, have never exactly been known for their compassion.
Valentine nods, adjusts his hat, and stands from his chair. "Sounds like I'd better get a move-on, then."
Later that same night, Nick tracks Piper down to an old subway station — a scrap of red fabric here, a green thread there, a lazily patrolling Raider complaining of a vicious boot to the face — and as late as it is, he catches the gang while most of its members sleep soundly in their makeshift beds. The less bloodshed, the better, in Nick's eyes, but if worst came to worst — well, it's a good thing he came with a fully loaded gun and enough ammo to last him a week. He slips into the station, slinks past dozing Raiders, and makes his way over to a security room past the old turnstiles. A guard sits in a chair beside the magnetically locked door, though he's doing a poor job of guarding anything, considering he's snoozing. Just to be safe, Nick wraps his good arm around the man's neck, constricting his throat in a sleeper hold, and despite his struggles, the Raider falls unconscious. Nick lets him slip to the floor, glancing around to ensure the scuffle hasn't attracted any unwanted attention, before rapping the knuckle of his metal right hand against the door.
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Work comes in all forms, all shapes and sizes, because early one evening, he receives a certain client, who dumps about fifty bottle caps on his desk — evidently all the caps she owns. Before he can even get a word out, she splays both hands on the table's surface, leans forward, and says in no uncertain terms, "Find my sister."
Well, he can hardly deny a demand like that, now could he?
Piper Wright, it seems, is a magnet for trouble. Apparently, the last Nat had heard from her was that she intended to do some snooping around in an area known to be crawling with Raiders. And Raiders, of course, have never exactly been known for their compassion.
Valentine nods, adjusts his hat, and stands from his chair. "Sounds like I'd better get a move-on, then."
Later that same night, Nick tracks Piper down to an old subway station — a scrap of red fabric here, a green thread there, a lazily patrolling Raider complaining of a vicious boot to the face — and as late as it is, he catches the gang while most of its members sleep soundly in their makeshift beds. The less bloodshed, the better, in Nick's eyes, but if worst came to worst — well, it's a good thing he came with a fully loaded gun and enough ammo to last him a week. He slips into the station, slinks past dozing Raiders, and makes his way over to a security room past the old turnstiles. A guard sits in a chair beside the magnetically locked door, though he's doing a poor job of guarding anything, considering he's snoozing. Just to be safe, Nick wraps his good arm around the man's neck, constricting his throat in a sleeper hold, and despite his struggles, the Raider falls unconscious. Nick lets him slip to the floor, glancing around to ensure the scuffle hasn't attracted any unwanted attention, before rapping the knuckle of his metal right hand against the door.
He whispers, ] You in there, Piper?