Chapter Text
It's a night like any other in Diamond City, but maybe a bit darker than usual. Half of the stand lighting has been downed from a horrible storm that's been raging all day, and doesn't seem to be letting up anything soon. The section of the town where the Valentine Detective Agency resides is dark, but the building's signature pink neon glows on, unaffected.
And then that sign is eclipsed. An enormous figure, at least 10 feet tall and wearing dark clothing, steps up to the door. A fist the size of a plate knocks surprisingly politely, three times.
Inside, Nick's eyes flick to the door and back down to the file he's reminiscing over so fast it could be mistaken for a small glitch.
'We're open.' He calls out, loud enough for the person outside to hear over the storm, and simultaneously pulls his fedora onto his head and stubs his cigarette as the door opens.
'Come on in-' He starts, and then pauses. The person coming in looks..... strange. They're doing some sort of odd crouching walk, arms wrapped around themself. They're very tall and very big, or at least they seem to be? The large rain poncho covering them up makes it hard to tell.
'Uh.... you okay there, friend?'
The person perks up and looks him in the face, stopping halfway across the room. One dark blue eye blinks rapidly, and they rub at a pesky raindrop.
'Yeah. Gimme a... a second. Got socked in the fuckin' stomach on th' way here.' Their voice seemed almost too deep, like the distortion of someone speaking from inside power armor.
'Goootcha.' Nick says, drawing out the word. His right-no, *left* hand gestures at the chair in front of the desk.
'Feel free to sit and catch your breath for a bit, I'm patient.'
They nodded, and did as he said, sitting in the chair a bit roughly. They were in fact as large as they seemed, now that they were only on the other side of the desk. Their breathing was a tad labored, and Nick wondered in the back of his head who the hell could punch someone like this in the stomach so hard it'd have them wheezing.
'Alright, I'm- I'm alright.' They said, and finally pushed back the hood of their poncho to reveal their- no, *her* face. The woman who'd come in had long, tight dreadlocks, several scars on her round face as well as a healthy amount of laugh lines, and.... Nick blinked, trying not to look shocked.
She was.... blue. A very, very dark shade of dusty blue that, in places, appeared more like normal, dark brown skin, but... she had a bluish sheen. The single eye he'd looked into a second ago was a much more vibrant blue, but still not one that seemed natural to humans. The other eye was gone, and instead she had a smooth socket in her face. The skin in it had no surgical or injury scars- maybe she had been born with only one eye.
'I got a situation I need you to look into. It's urgent.'
That's right, refocus. His job was, of course, to observe and draw conclusions, but he'd only do more than a cursory onceover if he felt it was relevant to the case.
'I see. What kinda situation is it?' He pulled his trusty notebook to him, ready to write. The woman let out a breath from her mouth, rubbing at the side of her face in covered-up distress. For a split second, she seemed to want to be subtle, but then she decided not to.
'My son's been kidnapped. In the middle of th' night, a week ago. I got no idea who coulda done it and no kinda trail I could find to follow. I'm a light sleeper and our only door gets locked every night so I woulda heard if someone broke in or forced the door. I didn't even know he was gone until th' next mornin' when I came into his room n' found his bed empty.'
God did he hate kidnapping cases. Or, well, he hated how they always seemed to end. One- the person who'd been kidnapped had tried to run away. Two- they were found dead. Or three- the case ran cold and he had to tell the client he couldn't find shit. But looking at his notes, he asked the first question, which was usually met with taken offense.
'Ma'am, is there any chance that your son wasn't kidnapped, he just decided to run away?'
Refreshingly, she didn't seem outraged, simply shaking her head.
'He's seven years old, sir. I know that don't mean that much, little kids is always threatenin' to run away n' join th' travelin' merchants, but I know he ain't left of his own volition. If he had, he woulda taken this.'
From the depths of the poncho, a tattered, patchy, limp doll was placed on the desk. It looked vaguely like-
'A molerat?'
'His lil' Ratty. He takes this thing damn 'bout everywhere. He sleeps with it. Found it in his bed, but not him. I know he ain't just got up and left.'
Nick nodded, reaching out for the doll before hesitating.
'May I...'
'Knock yerself out.'
Nick examined the doll, feeling his optical lenses dilating and contracting as he took in the details. This was a lot of scrap cloth stitched together, so it wasn't prewar. It'd have the kid's scent all over it, for sure. But he'd been missing for a week... And with this storm, the scent trail was sure to be obliterated. Still, he'd definitely call Dogmeat at some point to lend his nose however he could.
'Well, I think I could get some use out of this... Did you notice any kind of tracks at all, anywhere near the house? I know you said you didn't have any trail, but...'
She shifted in the seat, and finally moved the rest of the poncho off herself and onto the back of the chair. She was wearing.... a black and white pinstriped suit? It was fitted, and looked quite good on her, but it seemed out of place for someone living in a postsocial wasteland. But Nick didn't judge long- it wasn't a pressing matter. She soon let out a low sigh, nodding.
'I searched all 'round the house, and found evidence of someone *coverin'* tracks, but they got less sloppy as they went, and I lost the trails a hundred or so feet away from the house. They didn't want me after 'em.'
She suddenly blinked, seeming to realize something, then sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
'I'm sorry, I...'
'Hm? Remember something', ma'am?'
'I remembered I ain't even given you my name yet.' She said with a huff. Nick held up a hand, shaking his head slowly.
'You don't have to if you don't want. I've taken many a nameless or even anonymous client before. Been in this business long enough to understand why someone'd want to keep their name from me, and I'd only ask if I think it's important to the case.'
She regarded him as he said this, looking him up and down. He briefly wondered if she had just now noticed he was a synth, after telling him her story. He'd had clients before that hadn't even realized he was a synth until the very end of the case, because they were so bad at any kind of eye contact.
'You musta been around long, t'get torn up like that.'
Nick blinked. That... wasn't something clients usually cared about. Well, maybe she didn't care. Maybe she just wanted to let him know that she didn't see him as a human, but more like a broken appliance.
'Well, yeah. Been around for over a hundred years. Seen a lot of stuff, solved a lot of cases.'
'I did hear you came highly rated. Not like there's any other detectives... anywhere, really, but... I heard a lot 'bout you, Nick Valentine.'
His face twitched. This was sounding negative. Her face hadn't changed, she was still regarding him with that same ponderous look. Before he could say anything, though, she took in a deep breath, seeming to steel her nerves as she looked him in the eye.
'My name is Cynthia. Cynthia Athanasiou. My son's name is Sylvester. He's 7, like I said. Skin's a bit lighter in color than mine, dark brown eyes, curly black hair. Lil' button nose... dunno if givin' much more detail'd help. I can show you our homestead, though, and where the tracks was.'
Nick recorded it all, leaving the writing as legible as he could manage for Ellie to record later. She wasn't in, her shift had ended an hour ago when he'd told her to go treat herself to some Power Noodles and a good night's sleep, as she'd been swaying on her feet. Poor thing really loved her job, loved it too much. He made sure to pay her what she was owed, but sometimes she just needed a break.
'Well, ma'am, it does seem like any visible clues would've been washed or beaten away by now, but I'll put my best effort into this case.'
She nodded.
'I woulda come to you sooner, but you understand- an angry mother ain't the most... reasonable of creatures. I was out marchin' round the wasteland 3 days before I finally got back enough sense to think of havin' someone else to help me. Took a while to get here, too- this storm that's here now? I might as well've been pushin' it along, with how it stayed on top a' me while I was makin' my way here. I don't wanna, uh...'
Cynthia made a small gesture at the large hole in his neck, and Nick knew what she was about to say.
'I am quite resistant to shutdown via waterlogging, ma'am, but your concern's appreciated. It could happen if I got washed away in a flood or somesuch, so I'll unfortunately have to wait to investigate until tomorrow.'
She nodded, though her expression seemed to droop a bit with it.
'I understand. By th' smell, rain should stop mid-mornin'. With no stops it's a day's walk to th' homestead, and I can show you places I think the kidnappers mighta posted up in a lil' ways out.'
Nick nodded, and held out a hand to shake.
'You're able to find housing for the night here, then?'
She took the offered hand, and smiled with one half of her mouth.
'Naw, but I might jus' lay down in th' alley outside. I slept in worse places, ain't no problem.'
The synth cringed at that, hating the idea of someone having to sleep on the ground, especially in a place like Diamond City. He thought for a moment, then broke the handshake, holding up a finger.
'One second, I might have something you can use instead.'
She waited, watching curiously as he dug through one of the drawers in his desk. He'd told Nate he'd keep this specific little thing safe, and he had been, but the vault dweller had recently come back to tell Nick that if he ever wanted to get out of the heart of Diamond City, he could go up to a place in the stands that he had the key to (and now technically owned, thanks to some recent changes in management).
Nick produced a house key from the drawer, which now had a little Vault Boy keychain decoration as well as a shard from Dogmeat's favorite bone. Kellogg had been a son of a bitch, for sure, but it seemed he left at least something good behind in the form of an empty space for whomever to use.
'I use a place up in the stands as a temporary housing for myself or any clients who need it. Here. You can use it for the night, or longer if this takes a while. I'm gonna do my best to make sure it doesn't.'
Cynthia's eye widened a bit, and she gently took the key. Her hand absolutely radiated warmth, he noticed. Not scaldingly hot, but it was like she'd just been sunbathing and her skin was still releasing excess heat. He wasn't sure what her deal was- she obviously wasn't a human unaltered by the wasteland, but she looked very different from any kind of mutant Nick could recognize.
'My goodness. You *are* a professional, Mr. Valentine. Providin' your clients with a place to stay in this big city... real thoughtful of you.'
She smiled at him, and ah. That was.... a very pleasant smile. Not the smirk she'd done earlier. She was genuinely grateful as she stood, pulling her poncho back on.
'Imma try to let you in on every possible thing I can remember bout this. I'm tryin' to stay calm, but my boy's somewhere out there, and I'd rather have 'im back sooner or later. Don't s'pose you'd be opposed to lettin' me join you out on your detective workin'? Promise I can be quiet when it's needed.'
'I'd prefer you did, actually. And so would my assistant, most likely. I dunno if you've heard, and I hate to admit it, but it's only fair to warn you. I've also racked up a reputation for...'
He sighed, feeling the air be pushed past his plastic lips by the two bellows in his chest.
'Getting.... caught. And tied to chairs. For days, sometimes.'
The eyebrow with an empty socket beneath it rose up, and there's that smirk again.
'Lotta these groups in the commonwealth just got some kinda thing for tyin' people to chairs. I seen it, I know. Gonna keep that in mind when we're out searchin'.'
A minute shiver went down Nick's spine as he briefly remembered one particular tied-to-a-chair incident that had been extremely unpleasant for him. He was damn lucky that Hancock had visited Ellie, who had pointed him in the right direction to save Nick. The people who had caught him.. They were scrappers, but they were also...perverted.
Before he could delve too deep into the memory, he took a deep, unneeded inhale and nodded, jarring himself into the present as he stood as well, gesturing to the door.
'I'd appreciate it. I can show you the way to the place now, if you like.'
And off they went, into the rain-drenched night.