Chapter Text
The detective's life isn't an easy one, but it rarely lacks for excitement. Even with the new stability brought about with the destruction of the Institute and the rise of the Minutemen, you still see a lot of folks at their worst in my line of work. Hard to not let it get to you sometimes. For decades, I’d tell myself all the bad in the world was all the more reason for me to keep fighting. I don’t think I always believed it, but it got me through. These days, what gets me through is knowing I’m not in the fight alone.
It still feels a little weird, leaving the Agency at night. I lived in that office for… well, a long time. Ellie’s still in the room upstairs, and she lets me know if any late night panicked customers turn up. Of course, everyone in town knows where my partner and I live, but we still insist that Agency business be done at the Agency. The only interruptions to our domestic life at home are the ones caused by the experiments of an eleven-year old boy and whatever Minutemen summons might come on over the radio.
Or, as was the case after supper one evening, an old ad for a theme park that hadn’t existed in two-hundred years.
“Hiya, kids! Remember, Nuka-World is only open for a few more weeks in October! Come down and see me and Cappy one last time before buckling down for the winter. Don't forget to bring your empty bottle of Nuka-Cola to get 15 dollars off at the gate! So hop aboard the Nuka-Express and come and see the whole Nuka family while you still can!
The Nuka-Express is accessible through the Nuka-World Transit Center. Parking fees will apply. Prices subject to change due to end of season. Nuka-World, Nuka-Express, and the Nuka-Cola characters are all registered trademarks of the Nuka-Cola Corporation.”
“What was that?!” asked Shaun, bewildered.
I was pretty damn confused myself. I looked across the room at the man with his hand on the dial… and sighed. “I know that look.”
Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Destroyer of the Institute, General of the Minutemen, partner of Valentine's Detective Agency, and my personal partner for life, is a proud father, a good man, and a damn fine detective. Everyone in the Commonwealth knows that at this point. What a lot people don’t know, is that he’s easily bored and I don’t mean your average ‘nothing to do on a Tuesday night’ sort of boredom. The man lives for work, for a challenge to overcome, a puzzle to unravel. It’s part of what makes him so brilliant. It’s also part of what makes loving him an occasional challenge.
That light was in his eyes as he asked me, “Do you not find anything strange or suspect about a theme park ad suddenly appearing on the radio?”
“It's either a bot with a glitch in its programming or a bunch of raiders got creative with their set-up.”
“If it's the former, no harm done, if it's the latter, it should be dealt with sooner rather than later.”
I chuckled, “I'm not arguing with you, Holmes. Just waiting for the moment when you tell me you're running off.”
That softened him a bit. “Ha. You ran off on a case two weeks ago.”
“Kidnappings are time-sensitive, we both know that.”
He smiled, “A fair point. I suppose there’s no point in asking you to stay behind?”
“None whatsoever.”
I’ve learned over the past couple years that that annoyed huff of his is all show, at least where I’m concerned. “If this transit center mentioned is the same as the one as before the War, then it's far west, slightly southwest of the Sunshine Tidings Co-Op.”
Shaun raised an exasperated hand, “But what’s Nuka-World?”
“A theme-park,” Holmes said. “Before the War, the Nuka-Cola corporation spent a great deal of time and money to build various amusements based on their products for customers to come spend even more money.”
“The less cynical answer,” I said as I lit a cigarette, “is that theme parks had rides, games, shows, all sorts of entertainment for families to spend a whole day pretending they’re someplace really special. Kids loved ‘em. Parents, not always quite so much, though I guess that depends on the kid and the parent.”
“So,” Shaun reasoned, “a bunch of raiders are in a theme park.”
“Probably,” I nodded.
He frowned, “Why?”
I shrugged, “Why not? Walls, lots of buildings, be sort of like living in an easily defensible Nuka-Cola themed city.”
“Is anyone really going to think that advertisement is real?”
“Hopefully not,” Holmes said, “but some people may investigate out of curiosity, desperation, or go in search of salvage from the park. If raiders are broadcasting, then they’re far more organized than any local group, and that could be remarkably dangerous.”
“We’re headed off in the morning, then?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“I’ll let Preston know his General will be out of the Commonwealth once again.”
“And convince him you don’t need an escort.”
“Indeed. Though I will suggest he increase the Minutemen presence in the western settlements, temporarily. Just in case.”
It was enough of a plan to start with, and in the morning we headed west to the Nuka-World Transit Center.
We’d been worried folks might get curious and come looking. We were right, but not quite the people we were expecting. Gunners were poking around the Transit Center, and their commander had orders that mentioned a missing recon team. Apparently some Gunners went to Nuka-World and never came back.
Real shame, that.
A man sat on the platform of the station, muttering about someone going to die and clutching his bloody stomach. His name was Harvey, and he and his family had been fooled by raiders, led to Nuka-World under the promise of a friendly settlement. His plan was to escape and return with help, but a bullet wound stopped his progress. His family were still there, and were certain to be killed when the raiders discovered he was gone.
That was his story, anyway.
Holmes knew something was up when the guy refused a stimpak, not something that tends to happen when a person is supposedly bleeding out. Harvey gave in quick under pressure; he was a fraud working for the raiders to lure more people to Nuka-World. He was tired of acting as their stooge, but had no desire to die or get anyone else killed. Naturally, Holmes volunteered to go to Nuka-World and take care of the problem.
"Now wait a minute," I said, "before we hop on this train and go barreling off, you think we could call in some reinforcements?"
"If someone doesn't go back soon, then people are gonna start dying," Harvey said. "I've seen it happen."
The fear seemed real, and that was reason enough for Holmes. "We'll resupply with what we can from the Gunners and whatever may still be in this place, but we haven't a moment to waste, Valentine."
"Don't think I'd call security against walking into a trap a 'waste,'" I grumbled.
"If more than a few people step off the train, the raiders will get suspicious," Harvey said, "and suspicious raiders get violent."
He had a point. I admitted as much, and Holmes asked how we get the train running. After looting the Gunner bodies for ammo and supplies, we stepped aboard.
We were off.
And, naturally, we were trapped.