Campsite outside Vault 81 – Near Dusk
The fire crackled softly, casting orange light on faces worn by war, time, and secrets. Sarah had said her piece. The name Kellogg now carried weight — a mercenary tied to too many missing people... and possibly Nate's stolen son.
Nick sat sharpening a dented combat knife with deliberate strokes. Preston checked a map under lantern light while Dogmeat sniffed the dirt between stones. The synth detective finally spoke.
Sarah stood slowly, brushing dust from her gloves.
Sarah:"You mentioned a cigar. Something Kellogg left behind?"
Nate nodded."San Francisco Sunlights. Strong scent. Old world. Too fancy for raiders."
Sarah turned to Team 404, standing nearby in low-light standby mode.
Sarah:"404. Fan out. If there's a trail, we need to find it. Look for ash, scent markers, anything burned recently. Cigars aren't common in this hellscape."
HK416 instantly moved to the east brush, rifle lowered but scanning. 9 swept low to the rock formations near the streambed, while UMP45 circled the perimeter.
UMP45 (comms):"I Got something. Corner of the clearing. Scent lingers, ash residue... it already cold. About couple days ago."
9 (checking the brush):"Cigar stub. Worn but still intact. Matches Nate's description. Definitely not a Commonwealth brand."
Sarah moved in and picked up the stub with a gloved hand. Dogmeat bounded over and sniffed it with intent, tail rising as he caught the scent.
Sarah (to Nate):"He's been here. Possibly scouting. The scent's strong — think it should fresh enough for a tracker."
Nate stood, voice tight."Then we move now. Dogmeat's got the trail. Preston, Nick — you're with me."
Preston readied his musket."Minutemen stand ready."
Sarah stepped beside Nate, voice lower now.
Sarah:"Be careful. You're heading into something colder than raiders. If Kellogg's working for the Institute, you won't get a fair fight."
Nate, Preston, Nick, and Dogmeat prepared to move, the trail marked by the lingering scent of San Francisco Sunlights. A fragment from the past, guiding them toward a predator who didn't care who he broke.
Sarah tapped her comms, syncing the uplink to ISAC's shortwave.
Sarah mutter:"ISAC, enable shadow-trace protocol. Monitor Charlie Team movements. Priority relay: Fort Hagen grid if confirmed."
ISAC (softly):"Affirmative. Tracking initialized."
She turned to Nate, her tone professional but edged with quiet urgency.
Sarah:"Graygarden's next on my supply route. I'll be there if you need backup or resupply. Just ping me through with your radio."
Nate gave a sharp nod."You'll know the moment we find something. right?"
Sarah glanced over her shoulder, where G11 still lay dozing under her coat beside a field pack, softly snoring as if war never touched her.
Sarah (softer, almost to herself):"...And 404, please—don't forget G11. We can't leave her behind here again. Not like last time."
Nate's expression tightened, sensing the weight behind her words. and said "You have my condolense taking care of them"
As Charlie Team disappeared into the darkened treeline — Dogmeat leading them with nose low — Sarah motioned to Team 404.
Sarah:"We moving out soon, Graygarden needs reinforcing, and the western pipe systems are overdue for calibration."
UMP45 smirked faintly, shouldering her weapon." OH GREAT~~Pipe repair duty. This is what we're doing now?"
HK416 while dragging G11:"Keep grumbling, 45. It beats chasing rogue synths through rat tunnels."
9 (deadpan):"Remind me why we don't just blow up every old-world ruin we find?"
Sarah (walking):"Because one of them might give us clue for making that strange synths cobble fail flesh."