Chapter Text
DOWNTOWN BEACON CITY, UNITED STATES - 1981
For once it wasn't as dreary as it had been for the past week as the Sun's golden rays pierced through the late morning fog that engulfed the scenic park. There, a large crowd had gathered in front of an immense, ornate stone and marble monument that stood in a once empty lot in the middle of the park — standing in front of a massive ribbon was an elderly man in a heavily decorated military uniform surrounded by other similarly dressed officers and men next to a portly gentleman behind a podium. After shuffling a few papers in front of him, the rotund gentleman cleared his throat and tapped into the mic built into the podium.
"Good morning ladies and gentlemen, citizens of Beacon City and the wonderful nation of America," He proudly spoke while putting his hand on his chest, "I welcome you all to the inaugural ceremony to the Battle of the Atlantic Memorial Plaza, dedicated to those who served and gave the ultimate sacrifice in the Battle of the Atlantic during the Second World War to end the Nazi occupation of mainland Europe. After many long years of planning, construction, and many setbacks, we are proud to announce its opening this day. Though we could not have done it without the support of the people and the donations from the Beacon City Veterans League. Today with the BCVL, we have a very important guest with us at this ceremony, Vice Admiral Michael F. Sutton, now let's give a hand to this American hero.
Slowly standing up from his chair, the elderly admiral shook the mayor's hand tightly, which caught the younger man off guard as he fixed his uniform. After adjusting his cap, the old man was caught off guard by an eerily familiar sight in front of him. Holding a pair of gold plated scissors was a Sterling brand nandroid — though he had seen many models like her before, it was her appearance that made his iron resolve falter for once. Her curled blonde hair in that vintage style and deep crimson lips reminded him of an old companion he had during the war. Someone who he had forgotten over a period of five decades. Snapping out of it as he was handed the golden scissors, he turned over to look at the army of cameras and smiled as he cut the red ribbon to the memorial.
BEACON CITY MUSEUM OF HISTORY AND CULTURE, BEACON CITY, UNITED STATES - 1981
Walking through the halls of the expansive museum, Sutton was entangled in his thoughts of what happened that morning. He shouldn't be dwelling on the past, after all he needed to focus on the upcoming events on his schedule. Moving into an exhibit that had a bench he could sit at to catch a breather, Sutton glanced to his left and right before pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a worn out zippo lighter. Refocusing his gaze to what was in front of him, he dropped the two items as he stared at the artifact behind the ropes. Making his way up to the faded and weathered poster — he chuckled to himself as he stared a younger version of himself standing and saluting proudly next to what looked like an older model of nandroid in a naval uniform. It was rare for him to dwell on the fate of what had happened to her, but now after two coincidences like this, perhaps he needed to find out where Paisley had gone after the war. Gathering his untimely discarded items, Sutton headed out into the pouring rain to begin this search.