╭┅┅┫ -ˋˏ *. ❂ .* ˎˊ- ┣┅┅╮
❝ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ sʟᴇᴇᴘ
ᴏʀ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴇᴛ ɴᴏɴᴇ
(ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴄᴋ's ɢᴏɴɴᴀ ᴄᴀʟʟ
ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴ', ʙᴀʙʏ)
ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴇᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴜᴘʙᴏᴀʀᴅ
ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴀᴅᴅʏ's ɢᴜɴ
(ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴅ sᴜɴʀɪsᴇ ɪs
ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ) ❞
╰┅┅┫ -ˋˏ *. ❂ .* ˎˊ- ┣┅┅╯

Nick's hawk-like stare was focused on the bubbles, as if he was attempting to wish them away.

"What is it, Nick?" I asked in between heavy breaths. My shoulder continued to throb violently, and I couldn't keep my voice from rising. "What do you see?"

He hushed me sharply and whispered, "Swan. Formerly Edward Swann, an Institute scientist. He was caught stealing cigarettes, so they punished him. Injected him with some sort of experimental strain of the FEV virus and told him to log his progress for 30 days. At first, the strain's results were phenomenal. Swann's IQ shot through the roof, and his muscle mass tripled in a matter of days."

He swallowed and continued in a hushed voice. "But it didn't last for long. As fast as his intelligence increased, it decreased much faster. He kept growing, until he became a super mutant behemoth. . . supposedly." He gestured vaguely toward the bubbles, that were gradually beginning to disappear. "He. . .that. . .it. . .whatever the hell's in that pond became a huge problem spot for Raiders. The Boston Commons is the center of their routes, but they won't travel through this area because they're terrified of it."

A few moments later the bubbles ceased. Nick and I released a breath of relief and stood. The world spun for a few moments, and I heard Nick whisper, "That's gotta be bandaged before we do anything else. You're losing too much blood." He reached for my shoulder.

"It's fine," I said, dismally swaying away from his hand. In doing so, I nearly lost my balance and fell. "I just need a few Stimpacks," I mumbled as I reached into my backpack and stabbed myself with two.

As the icy-hot sensation coursed through my veins, the pain radiating my shoulder became a little more dull. It was tolerable, and at least the blood wasn't pouring as it was earlier; it had stilled to a small trickle. The world slid back into focus.

"See? Feeling better already. Let's get going before we get shot at again." But when I reached for my pistol, my eyelids squeezed shut against the pain, and I sat back down on the bench with a huff. "Okay, you win. Let's just make it quick."

He shook his head with amusement and reached out his undamaged hand. "It was valiant effort. Now give it here, kid." Nick diligently bandaged my shoulder with a questionable dirty dishrag, while I scanned the buildings for the sniper. The rooftops and windows were vacant and showed no signs of movement.

"Who do you think that was?" I whispered as he bobbypinned the makeshift bandages into place.

He shrugged and mumbled, "There's no telling." After reviewing his work, he released me and stood. "Now let's not stick around before it happens again."

But it did.

A second resounding gunshot rang out. As fast as lightning, I dropped to my knees. A string of curses escaped my lips, but Nick still stood. His face looked unexpectedly slack and blank, even for someone in his line of work.

Then my eyes traveled to his hand, which was pressed against his torso. A dark liquid, not unlike blood, gushed past his fingers. Realization hit me like a flood of frigid water.

"Oh no, oh no. No." I ripped at the bandage on my shoulder and pressed the cloth into his hand, which was soaked immediately with the thick liquid emitting the gunshot wound. "Not like this. Oh God, not like this."

"I'm. . .fine. Gonna. . .take more than t-that," Nick sputtered. As they fearfully searched my face, his yellow eyes began to flicker, and I knew he didn't have much time left. I had to move quickly if Nick was going to live.

I jabbed a few Stimpacks into his arm, shouldered both our backpacks, and hoisted him up onto his feet. He nearly lost his balance, but I steadied him just in time. "Alright, Nick," I said, struggling to keep us both upright. "Let's get you to Goodneighbor."

"Hu. . .hurry." We began at the fastest pace we could manage, and I noticed his arm on my shoulder felt considerably warmer than it had a few moments ago. "I know, Nick." I shook him gently when his head began to dip. "Stay focused, partner. Don't clock out on me."

He opened his mouth to speak but another coughing fit overtook him, and I watched the liquid splatter on the ground. "Not gonna. . .make it." His eyes began to flicker out for longer intervals of time, but I willed my rising panic and tears away. Instead, a fiery determination filled me.

Defiantly, I said, "No, You're going to make it. I will get you there." We passed Park Street Station when he spoke again, jerking his head in the direction behind us: "No, ugh. . .B-bigger. . . problem." As I glanced over my shoulder, I witnessed a sight I will never forget.

Swan. With a thunderous roar, he emerged from the depths of the pond. His skin was a dark, sickly green, and his head seemed way too small for his body, which was significantly larger than a typical super mutant. Half of a canoe shielded his left arm, and an old casting net filled with skulls was wrapped around his right arm. A pre-war swan boat covered his shoulders, and he wielded a rusty boat anchor in his right hand. He threw his head back, belted out another thunderous roar, and began charging toward us at an alarmingly fast pace.

But I was frozen to the spot.

Suddenly I was back at Vault 109, peering into the debriefing room. The eyes of my friends and neighbors bulged from their heads as they scrambled, desperate to find an exit. They clawed at their skin, screeching in agony. But their cries and tears were ignored, and I couldn't do a thing about it. Just like I couldn't protect my brother from being kidnapped. I couldn't—

The clamping of Nick's scorching, metallic fingers around my wrist is what brought me back. With a jolt, I realized the giant behemoth had reached into the shopping cart strapped to his back and his hands were grasping a boulder. Nick, no longer able to support his weight, slumped to the ground. Without a moment of hesitation, I dropped to my knees and shielded him as Swan hurled it towards us. Throwing my hands out and ducking my head, I faced outward so I could absorb the impact.

My eyes screwed shut as I heard the boulder hit the building. Glass and debris rained down around us. But aside from a few scrapes on my face and arms, we were lucky. Either that, or my adrenaline was pumping so hard I didn't feel anything. I couldn't open my right eye, but I could see Swan barreling toward us in my left one.

He would be upon us within a matter of seconds. Then it dawned on me:

At lightning speed, I opened the map of The Commonwealth in my PipBoy and clicked on the icon for Goodneighbor.

I'm not even going to imagine how Vault-tec figured out teleportation, because it's mind-blowing to even hypothesize about. But as amazing as such a feat is, it is equally as draining.

My vision went dark, and an intense pressure pushed against me from all angles. It rendered me unable to move, and I felt the heavy desire to breathe, but there was no air. Fortunately, the sensation only lasted for a few moments.

My vision returned as quickly as it left. I flinched at the sudden brightness, but Nick and I were directly in front of Goodneighbor's doors. Well, lying in a crumpled heap, rather.

Nick's grip on my wrist had gone limp, as had his whole body. Although not as much as before, coolant continued to gush from the hole in his torso, staining his clothes beyond repair. The lights in his eyes had gone out completely, and my blood ran cold. If it wasn't too late already, he didn't have much longer before he would overheat. With an enormous effort, I dragged myself forward and banged on the doors with all my might.

My voice was much more guttural and rugged than I expected, but I yelled at the top of my lungs and banged on the door desparately. "GET AMARI! THERE'S A WOUNDED OUT HERE!!"

Shuffling could be heard on the other side of the doors, but they did not open. Instead, I was met with a gruff, challenging voice. "Why should we let you in, bitch?"

Rage swept over me. "I'm the Vault Dweller," I panted, rising to my feet. "And the detective, Nick Valentine, will bleed out if you don't let us in."

The voice returned, disgusted. "Blood? That. . .thing can't bleed. Now beat it."

Calling me names is fine. I can take it. But insulting my friend? That doesn't fly with me.

I leaned closer to the doors, and my tone turned deadly. "That thing is a better man that you'll ever be. And if you don't open these damn doors in the next three seconds, I'll open them myself."

Although his voice wasn't as steely as it was before, he remained firm on refusing to open the doors. "And what are you gonna do about it? Look. You ain't getting in here. You can just—" The click of my fragmentation grenade pin stopped him mid-sentence.

That seemed to change his mind. I heard frantic shuffling, and a very faint "I'll deal with you later" from a different voice before the doors swung open with a high-pitched creak. I hurled the grenade into the air as best as I could with an injured shoulder, and it exploded a safe distance away.

"Alright, Nick. I told you I'd get you here. I just hope it's not too late."

》* 。 • ˚ ˚ ˛ ˚ ˛ • 。* 。° 。* 。 • ˚《

woah okay last time i wrote this chapter i only had 54 reads and now i have 700+ ???? what ???????? s/o to PrincessDystopia and snowflakeDancer360 bc yall were the first two people to read this story !! thanks for stickin around

alright, so the song. i honestly just love delta rae, and this song fits perfectly. i especially like the line "the red sunrise is like an early warning." the story behind that is that when sailors would wake up and see a red sunrise, it meant bad luck, rough waters, or that something terrible might (in this case, did) happen.

B T W :

you'll be able to tell if a chapter is revised if its title is the name of the song in the chapter instead of the main place (ex: this chapter was formerly "swan's pond" but now it's "bottom of the river")

xoxo,
—rambler