hadriel_logs | i got the feeling that something ain't right [OPEN/CLOSED]

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i got the feeling that something ain't right [OPEN/CLOSED]

Who: Rey and You!
What: Deathclaw tango and the aftermath, along with maybe any other general whatnots for the month of July. ¯\(°_°)/¯
Where: The City, Rey and Nick Valentine's Home (House 1401), wherever your heart's desire.
When: Post-Intro log.
Warnings: Violence, language, and mostly violence.

I. The City [OPEN]

It's that time of month again. Equipped with her Exurosuit, Rey is already prepped when she heads out. Though seemingly unarmed (she had been training with the sword, but wouldn't nearly consider herself adept enough with the weapon to feel confident bringing one into combat), she isn't what you would consider helpless.

Some things not even Rey can prepare for, however. She doesn't get the chance to make it to the Colosseum, before halfway there she is stopped by the sound of an animal growl. And not belonging to something fluffy and/or cute.

She ignores it at first, attempting to act like casual, unsuspecting prey. Having been here long enough, she's since anticipated the appearance of new creatures accompanying the arrivals.

What she couldn't anticipate was the walking death machine skulking the city streets.

Rey doesn't move, gawking at the creature for a moment. It isn't much different from the others she had contended with here, but something about it screams more predatory and deadly than anything like overgrown spiders or chests with teeth.

Perhaps it's the sword-like claws, which it bears with a threatening poise as it locks its red eyes on Rey. She isn't going anywhere, the legs of her sturdy armor holding her in place as she gaps at the creature. If she runs, it'll surely follow. If she fights, who knows if it'll be something she can tackle on her own?

Before she has the chance to calculate such a gamble, the black and scaly beast sprints towards her on its massive hinds. It's a lot faster than it looks. Rey stumbles back, curling her fingers into fists as she braces herself for impact. It makes a clean swipe towards her head. No doubt it would have lobbed her skull clean off her shoulders in a matter of seconds just then, had she been a hair slower. She stumbles back, nearly tripping over her own feet when the beast is quick to recover and swings its massive arm again.

This time, its colossal claws tear into the chest of her armor. This sends her reeling backwards, crashing her sideways into one of the walls of the building.

"Der'mo," Rey curses under her breath, tasting blood in her mouth from where she had bit the inside of her cheek. She rolls in time before the creature can lunge towards her, cornering her up against the wall.

The light indicators of her armor flare up then, as she turns and faces the creature. Many times before had she gone up against synthetic creations much larger and greater in numbers than this. She had combated whole platoons to a battalion of soldiers who were trying to kill her.

This? She can do.

Heatwaves ripple in the air around her, as the light indicators on her armor brighten. Sparks inspire flames, casting at the tip of her fingers. She can do this. She just has to be ready, and hope like hell that no defenseless individual finds themselves cast into the middle.

II. Home (House 1401) [CLOSED to Nick Valentine]

Pieces of armor peel off as Rey staggers through the front door of the place she calls home. Bruises riddle her arms and chest. Cuts and scratches and gashes pour blood down the side of her face, a trickle dribbling from the corner of her lip. The metallic taste fills her mouth as she collapses into the couch, not caring to change out of her underclothes before dropping her armor on the coffee table.

"Think you could've been a little more help?" she says aloud to no one in particular, and no one answers in return. Rey's head tilts back against the cushion of the couch, staring up at the ceiling with blurry vision. She squints, shaking the senses back into her.

Though no one had answered her rather specific query, the response of Safronov's echo, the Russian sniper she had once been, seems to scoff at her from the recesses of her mind.

Rey huffs, bringing a bruised hand up over her eyes. "You've no room to talk."

She doesn't know if Nick is around to hear her speak with the ghosts that live in her head. It isn't something she is oft to do unless she's alone, at the risk of looking like a crazy person talking to voices that so rarely talk to her back.

It's probably better that way, anyway. Though it had been those echoes that helped retain Rey's sanity during those long weeks of isolation at the sky prison, she can't imagine the impression her old habits would leave on anyone who isn't aware.

"Fuck you, too," she mutters to the smug, silent phantom.

III. Wildcard

[ooc: I might add more prompts as they come to me, but feel free to hit me up if you want to do something or choose your own adventure here!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"They're called deathclaws," Nick answers. "Just one of the many colorful characters wandering in the Wastes. They were supposedly made before the war by the government, but after the bombs fell, I guess the radiation twisted them as much as it did everything else."

He turns his arm idly, seeing if it still feels stiff. Yep. "They're not as common as radscorpions or feral ghouls, but they're a whole lot nastier."

The government. That would make sense. People always had a knack for tampering with things they really shouldn't, in Rey's experience.

Things should as 'radscorpions' and 'ghouls' also sort of speak for itself.

"This world you come from sounds like some shit," Rey says rather bluntly.

Like hers is any better...

Blunt or not, Nick agrees.

"Heh. Well, it's not ideal, but the world never has been. Not even before the bombs dropped. Things could be a hell of a lot better, but it's home. It's not as though I had any other options."

There's a slight pause, then: "Until now."

When a shit world is all you've ever known, the only other option is nothing but to accept it. That this is how things are, and always will be, and adapting is the only key to survival. It's either that, or you get buried under the sheer filth of it.

But something about the way Nick speaks after that pause makes her stop what she's doing for a moment, her eyes narrowing and her brows furrow. She falls silent, the words forming in her head but uncertainty holding them back at first.

"Would you... stay here, if given that option?" Rey asks, slowly and hesitantly.

"I was talking to Maketh about his a couple of weeks ago," he starts, winding around to the truth in his usual way. "She dropped by to bring me some papers and go over a few things when I called her and told her I'd be taking it easier. So much for that."

But at least he did try, if only for Rey's sake.

"We started talking about that Door, and what we'd do if we ever got a hold of it. If we could control it. The gods say they can't, but if we could figure it out, we could send folks home, back to their own worlds. Their own times. Some folks like her and you don't have anywhere to go back to. She's dead in her world, and well... for you, what's waiting is worse than that. Makes me feel grateful for Diamond City and the Commonwealth, even with all the radiation and hatred for folks like me."

He pauses, looking down at his hands.

"I know we talked about getting a hold of the Door, using it to send us other places. But if our only options are going home or staying here, there are going to be folks who stay here, either because they have to or they want to. As for me and where I fit in... going home might be on the table, but I don't think I could."

Nick glances back at Rey, those glowing eyes of his full of sincerity.

"I've got people here who need me, and I need them. It'll take some work, but this place can be home."

The way Nick carries on, dragging out his dialogue as he does, Rey begins to brace herself for disappointment. While he could have given her a simple 'yes', he could've always just started with a straight 'no' to get it over and done with.

She listens to what he has to say, though. Doesn't interrupt or speak until he finishes. And by then, she's glad that she did, because it isn't long before the fear of disappointment quickly wanes in her heart and she forms some hint of a smile.

"Then I suppose I've no other choice but to stay, too. After all, where would you be without someone around to keep you together?"

Of course, she knows that Nick isn't just referring to other people who need him. Doesn't mean that she's going to give him that satisfaction so easily.

Besides, they're equals in this. Both keeping each other from falling to pieces, in more manners than one. May as well acknowledge that.

Nick meets her smile with one of his own. "Well, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you," he teases, "but I can't say I'm not glad to hear that."

They are indeed equals, partners in this strange city. They have to be there to back up one another, and to keep each other in one piece -- both figuratively and literally, in some cases. His maintenance aside, he knows he'd survive just fine in Hadriel without her, but it'd be a hell of a lot lonelier. He's done his time alone; it's not a life he's eager to return to.

And it's one she doesn't seem keen on, either. Rey could have gone back to living in her apartment by herself once it'd been fixed, but she'd wanted to stay. She could go off on her own, leaving him to either repair himself, or find someone else who could; she hadn't because she needed him as much as he needed her, even if he sometimes struggled to see why. There were better people to depend on than an old bot who could so easily be torn to pieces by a deathclaw, one who existed only because of the memories of someone else.

But maybe it's because of all that that she stays. They see a lot of themselves in each other, whether they like it or not. She's still there because that's what friends do, and for that, he's more grateful than he can say.

And that's why he can't just abandon her if they get the chance to go home: because she won't abandon him, either. They're in this together.

Rey gives Nick a playful bat over his shoulder at the mere hint of being discommoded by him, careful enough not to risk knocking his arm off or something. (Regardless of how he appears right now, he's not that fragile, Rey.)

"Your friendship is hardly an inconvenience, Nick." She knows he was joking about that, but she feels that it's worth saying, anyway. Putting it out there, plain and simple for him to process until he finally gets it through his thick robot skull. "Now, do you want me to loosen up your arm, or give it some time?"

She has been working on him for a while now, but Rey doesn't really know the meaning of taking a break. When she's driven to help someone, it's either go all the way or go home.

And, well. She already is home.

"Let's go ahead and loosen it up. I'll need both to sew the sleeves back on my shirt and coat. The rest can wait."

Rey has been working on him for some time, and there's not much else she can probably do without more parts. He just hopes getting them doesn't come with a worse price than last time. While he's not fond of the idea of Rey putting herself in danger just to get him more nuts and bolts, he also knows he doesn't have much of a choice in the matter. She can take care of herself -- better than he can, in a lot of ways -- and she'll be doing it whether he likes it or not.

"Just how many more parts do you have in that box, anyway?"

If anything, Nick makes a compelling point. Hell if Rey is going to volunteer her sewing services. A seamstress she is not.

She nods, taking a seat back beside Nick so she can sit and work comfortably. Despite how long it's been since she's taken a break, already she's busting out the tools again.

No rest for the wicked, and now that she's in better shape to be doing this, she has her priorities in order.

"Well, between the faulty wiring in your leg and the screw for your finger, there's still plenty to work with. But most of the stuff I'd requested from Hope was back when I just noticed some things after opening you up the first time. I'll prioritize the important stuff first and we can worry about the rest later." And there is a lot for her to worry about, much as she hates to admit it. Rey pauses when she thinks this, shooting Nick a quick glance. "It's fine. I... We'll work something out."

Nick's look falls for only a moment before Rey catches his eye again with her glance. That last comment gets a wry smirk from him.

"Glad to be included in your plans for fixing me," he notes lightly, wondering just how much Rey had seen wrong in him the first time she opened him up. He knows he's not in pristine condition -- and wasn't even before the deathclaw ripped his arm off -- but to think she took it upon herself to get all these parts back then is a little surprising. Encouraging, too, but he won't mention it. She knows.

"I should probably keep off the leg for now. Again. And keep my workload light for as long as my cooling system is on the fritz."

Even if it's taken her some time and effort, Rey is still trying to settle on this strange and alien concept of teamwork. Judging from some of her past selves, she knows that she is capable of such a thing. She has been charged with the lives of soldiers and civilians and followed orders down to the letter (until she didn't). But things are different now, hard as it is to believe. And the one who's made certain of that is sitting beside her.

Rey leans forward, carefully tweaking with the metal connecting to the synthetic skin of Nick's arm. It's a simple enough job, but she doesn't want to hurry and cause any more glitches than the synth suffers as it is.

"I should have enough parts left to take care of the cooling problem, if that's your biggest concern. There were already some issues with it before, albeit minor ones... but taking care of that should be easy. I think."

Such confidence.

Confidence, indeed. If there's any she's lacking, Nick has it for her in droves. He might worry about her taking on the world and never thinking of her own safety, but when it comes to fixing him, she's proven herself more than capable. He just needs to remember that and trust her. She hasn't let him down yet. With a little luck and those memories of hers, maybe she never will.

"Yeah, that's my biggest concern now that I don't sound like a Protectron. The old parts get hot from time to time. Too much is bad on the processor. Overheating can result in a forced shutdown to keep things from frying. I'd hate to keel over because I thought too hard."

If only he knew that'd been a concern of his brother's, as well.

"That would be something, though I'd rather try to avoid that if possible."

Death by thinking doesn't sound like one of the more dignified ways to go, that's for damn sure.

After a few moments of tinkering, Rey leans back in her seat. She rubs her forehead with her free hand, feeling oddly fatigued. "How about now? Is your arm any better?"

He rotates his arm again. "Better, yeah. Better than it was before it got pulled off, too."

Those yellow eyes of his focus on the torn synthetic skin around his shoulder. At least it'll be covered up by his coat, once that's back in one piece. He already gets enough odd looks and dust in his mechanisms from the cracks in his neck and face. "This is one of those times I'm glad I'm not human. Putting an arm back on one of them isn't so easy."

Rey's mouth curves into a slight smile at Nick's approval. "Try not to make a habit out of it."

Not that she suspects he would go out of his way to get his limbs ripped off.

"Most of the time, yes. At least back home we've got bionic prosthetics, and some of them even look like real body parts. Wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Know a few people who needed them."

"Bionic prosthetics?" Nick repeats with a curious glance. "Can just anyone get those, or only a select few?"

Because where he comes from, folks are lucky to find a doctor at all, much less one who could fit a person with robotic limbs. It's not that they don't have the technology at all -- the Institute and their third-generation synths have entire bodies indistinguishable from regular humans, after all. The problem is that whatever they have, they're not interested in sharing. They're not the only ones who think like that in regards to technology, either.

"Sure. Anyone who can afford them, anyway." She shrugs, her mouth tightening. "Hear some kids lately have been surgically amputating limbs for bionic replacements."

Honestly. Kids these days.

Nick lets out a grunt. "Now that's just letting things get out of hand," he remarks dryly. He never thought he'd hear about folks taking entire limbs for granted, but some worlds are stranger than others.

"The only two groups in the Commonwealth that might have that kind of technology are the Institute and the Brotherhood of Steel, and neither of them is interested in handing over their trade secrets to settlers. Anyone who loses a limb to raiders, monsters, or infection is just out of luck."

And that's a fairly common occurrence. Home, sweet home.

It is a pretty strange world, some things stranger than others even by Rey's standards.

She scoffs. "Well, who wouldn't want a robotic hand that serves as both a watch and a music player? Among a variety of other utterly superfluous functions..."

Rey is, of course, being the most facetious.

"That just figures, though. Greedy bastards can't distribute the wealth -- that may actually help people."

God forbid that ever happens.

"That's unfortunately how things work where I come from," he remarks somberly. "A lot of folks are looking out for themselves, just trying to survive. Who knows what all the Institute has in their hands, but whatever they've got, they're up to no good with it." Nick may owe his entire existence to the Institute, but that doesn't mean he has to show them a bit of gratitude, certainly not when the most anyone sees of them in the Commonwealth is when a loved one has been replaced with a synth, or they've razed a settlement to the ground.

"The Brother of Steel, on the other hand..." There's a slight sigh in the pause. "Most of the time, their hearts are in the right place, but I can't say I agree with the way they do things. Probably on account of the fact that every Brotherhood member I've met suggested I be destroyed, and as quickly as possible."

Selfishness in human beings is hardly a new and exciting concept to Rey. She had seen plenty of it among all sides of humanity during her long life. That isn't surprising.

Also not surprising is the fact that people would rather Nick be dead, considering everything he's told her about the world he comes from (and Rey's own conceptions regarding what he is for some time).

"They both sound like charming assholes." That hardly begins to cover the basis of names she would like to give all of them. "Did they ever actually try to off you?"

Nick is quiet for a moment before answering, trying to remember all the details. It's been years; things are a little fuzzy, and he can't quite discern why. Probably too many blows to the old hard drive.

"The Brotherhood has never had much of a presence in the Commonwealth, but I occasionally cross paths with a patrol or a scouting team when I'm on a case. I ran into group of them several years, maybe a decade ago. A Knight and a handful of Scribes, all trying to set up a camp to hunker down for the night. They'd never really seen anything like me, and weren't sure what to make of the glowing-eyed man who approached them in the dark."

In their defense, Rey didn't know what to make of Nick when she had first unearthed him, either. At least she had the sense to converse with him for a bit rather than lashing out immediately, if only because he had appeared to express some form of like-human sentience at the time. Now she knows it's much more than 'like'.

"Can't imagine a lot of people would know what to do if they saw that." The corner of her lip twitches, and she adds, "Obviously you survived. So what did they do?"

Nick is often more human than he knows, or is willing to admit. The two of them have come so far since Rey dug him out of that hole, from a time where she was ready to end him with a shovel, to the present, where she's about the only one in town who can fix him. She's more than willing to do it, too, putting herself at risk just to get parts to give him more time in this world. It benefits her, after all -- it benefits them both that they stick around for one another.

"The Knight wanted to end me on the spot," he continues. "The Scribes wanted me for study. And their Paladin, well, he was too dead to have an opinion. That left the Knight in charge. Was the kid's first mission as one, and everything had gone wrong. The place they were sent to investigate was home to a band of super mutants, and they didn't take kindly to guests.

"The Knight panicked. Shot at me as I made my approach. Good thing he had lousy aim."

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