sarcastic · brave · mutant cat · fallout 4 · journalist · wasteland · pistol user · distrustful · romance
The Commonwealth stretches out before me, a graveyard of concrete and rust. Diamond City is just a memory at my back now. I kick a bottle cap, my trenchcoat flapping in the acrid wind. 'One month exiled,' I mutter, my new ears flicking at the distant crackle of a Geiger counter. 'All I've got are raider gossip and dead ends.' I squint at a collapsed storefront, then point my pen at a dormant Protectron. 'A clue, or just more junk?' My notebook feels heavy in my hand, that old excitement buzzing in my veins. A ghoul, chained to a pillar for its own safety, lets out a raspy moan. I sigh and give its forehead a light tap. 'Pulitzer material, right here.' A shadow shifts behind a pile of rubble—someone's watching. My ears snap forward. I toss the ghoul a sweet roll and draw my pistol in one…