I've just completed the main part of Fallout 4 game with my original character Chris Calvert supporting the Minutemen. And as it is sad to say goodbye to the game's amazing characters and ambiance, I started this short fanfic taking place soon after the "Blind Betrayal" part. Chris suffers from another great loss and now only cares about Sanctuary's affairs. What could ever change him that much?
“I don’t do chems any more, if you mean it,” Christian Calvert said hoarsely, when the Goodneighbor Mayor John Hancock asked about the reason of his mysterious disappearance.
The ghoul felt slightly offended: he had made a long way to the Sanctuary Hills to see his long-absent friend and to make sure everything was OK with him, not just to sell another dose of Buffout or Psycho. Besides, he actually never sold anything to Chris. John liked the bastard so much that he always gave him the drugs for free, helping him to stay more vigilant, damage-resistant and agile in battle or to grant him some joy and peace he lacked so much after he had woken up amidst a nightmare with no way out but death.
But now Christian, who used to be a humorous, often sarcastic but generally friendly guy, spoke with too much ice in his voice. Ice and despair so bitter that one could think he had lost his family for the second time.
(c) Bethesda
“Can’t believe it, dude.” John slowly caressed the large head of Dogmeat - Christian’s faithful German shepherd who had survived a hundred of Wasteland’s dangers alongside his master. “No offence, but you were such a damned junkie the last time I saw you. How did you ever manage to quit?”
“Will you please sit down?” said Chris in a milder voice, pointing to a pre-war velvet chair on a cosy veranda he had built with his own hands in his new wooden house. “Help yourself to the coffee, I’ve just made it…”
Even not knowing about the guest’s arrival, Chris had made the coffee for two, for it had already become his habit - to share everything edible or drinkable.
“Wow! Thank you, man! Coffee is gold!”
Indeed, this drink of old was a true luxury, much more rare and precious than whisky, but thanks to the attention and the lockpicking skills of Christian, he often succeeded in finding things like that. The ghoul almost moaned with pleasure while sipping the coffee and silently laughed at himself - an hideous but immortal creature, nostalgic about the small pleasures of the past. Overall, Chris knew how to impress his friends and how to make them comfortable (to involve them in some crazy adventures some time later).
“So, I guess you found some addictol to overcome your cravings? Glad for you, still, chems could save your life in some cases if you take them more carefully...”
“It’s nothing of your concern, Hancock. Don’t bother offering these things to me…”
“Give me a break, Chris,” said the ghoul. “I’m just damn curious what made you take such a bold decision.”
“Should’ve taken it much, much earlier,” Christian answered, sounding like sorrow itself. “What about you? What’s the news in the Goodneighbor?”
“Too many tin cans from the Brotherhood around and their vertibirds just over my head. No raiders have ever made me that nervous. What about your plans to kick the Institute’s ass and to teach Shaun some basics of good behavior?”
“To Hell with it… - Chris replied through his clenched teeth. - Shaun is the now a true son of the Institute, not mine. Fuck the Institute. Fuck the Brotherhood and the Railroad. Sanctuary is the only community I’m interested in…”
The ghoul whistled with surprise.
“Man, you’ve just said “Fuck the Brotherhood!” At last, you behave like a reasonable grown-up man. Not like a puppy running along that haughty piece of metal trash and striving hard to be praised.”
The Minutemen’s General gave him a mortifying gaze.
“You’re mistaken, John.” it cost Christian an effort to stay polite. “But for Paladin Danse, I wouldn’t be here making coffee for you… And he’s the reason, why I broke with this war. And with most drugs as well. He's much better one could ever think.”
(to be continued)
(c) Tuomas Korpi