The Dugout Inn wasn't subtle. The shouting from the bar, the distant clink of bottles, and the muttering of traders made it feel more like a front-line post than a watering hole. But it was where people talked when they thought no one listened — which was why General Nate was there.
He sat at the far end of the bar, hood up, coat loose over his frame. A half-drunk traveler next to him — Hawthorne — nursed something vaguely alcoholic, muttering to himself between sips.
Nate dropped a few caps on the bar. "You've been around. Hear anything about missing people?"
Hawthorne blinked at him, slow and skeptical. "Missing people? Around here, that's half the population."
"I'm looking for my son. He was taken... from a vault."
That got Hawthorne's attention.
He turned, squinting at Nate. "I see....You said... vault?"
Nate nodded.
Hawthorne leaned in, voice lower now. "Hmmm...I don't know about your kid, but I've heard talk. West of the city, near the reservoir. Still-active Vault. Sealed. Called Vault 81."
Nate frowned. "I thought all the Vaults were long dead."
"Not this one. They don't open for just anyone, though. Locals say it's tight-knit. Maybe even... clean. Pre-War kind of clean."
That word hit Nate like a whisper from the past.
Hawthorne kept going, oblivious. "Few folks saw people skulking around out there lately. Not raiders. Too quiet. Dressed wrong. Like they didn't belong above ground."
Nate tensed. "Institute?"
Hawthorne shrugged. "I ain't stupid enough to say that word out loud in here. But yeah. Wouldn't be the first time someone disappeared when they got too close to Vault 81."
As Nate processed that, Hawthorne tilted his head.
"If you're chasing that institute phantoms, though... there's someone who might help. A synth — but one of the good ones. Calls himself a detective."
"Name?"
"Nick Valentine. Office is just above the market. Doesn't ask for much — just truth."
[Valentine Detective Agency – Next Morning]
The agency door creaked open with a rusty hinge. Papers covered every surface, and a desk lamp flickered faintly under the weight of exhaustion and half-solved mysteries.
Behind the desk stood a woman, startled but poised. "Oh — sorry, office is technically closed right now."
"I'm not here for paperwork," Nate said. "Hawthorne sent me. He said Valentine might know something about Vaults or missing person."
She blinked. "You're the Minutemen general, right?"
Nate didn't answer. She nodded anyway. "Figures."
"I'm looking for my son," he said. "He was taken. I just found out there might be something happening in Vault 81."
"Well..." she hesitated. "Nick might've known something. But he's missing. Went chasing a lead — missing girl, mob ties. Old vault under Park Street Station."
Nate's brow furrowed. "And no one's gone after him?"
"He went alone. That's how he works. Said he'd be back in a day. It's been three."
"Which vault?"
"Vault 114," she said. "Beneath the old subway. He went after a thug named Skinny Malone. But if they found out what Nick really is..."
Nate exhaled slowly.
"Then it's not just my son that needs saving."
By evening, the flames from burn barrels cast flickering shadows on cracked brick. Hangman's Alley was now under Minutemen and Division control — sandbags, gun emplacements, and Tactical Doll patrols marked the transition from warzone to outpost.
Inside the forward command tent, Sarah reviewed satellite scans and old maps. Preston jotted down patrol schedules. Nate arrived, silent until the tent flap closed behind him.
"Got something," he said.
Sarah looked up. "Let's hear it."
Nate relayed what Hawthorne told him: Vault 81's isolation, Institute-like figures nearby, and Nick Valentine's disappearance into Vault 114.
Preston frowned. "If the Institute's nosing around the vaults, that's bad news for everyone."
Sarah tapped a point on the map west of Diamond City.
"Vault 81's been off the grid for two centuries. But if it's still functioning... it could be valuable. Resources, tech, knowledge. Or maybe something worse."
She looked to Nate. "You go after Valentine. Take a small unit, quiet entry. Get him out if he's still breathing."
Nate: "And 81?"
Sarah nodded. "I'll approach it myself. Recon and diplomatic contact. If they're not hostile, maybe we can open a line. If they are... we'll know before they vanish someone else."
Preston stepped up. "You'll need overwatch near the reservoir. I'll reroute patrols, keep your approach covered."
Sarah shake her head: "no need, let charlie team with general nate, i think he need more help."