[ WP ] Kellogg did n't shoot your spouse , but merely sedated them .

`` Are you fucking kidding me, Nate?!'' the woman from Vault 111 knocked down the door to the Diamond City estate with a loud thud, brandishing a heavy, dark Cryolator. 
 
 The Sole Survivor, or so he assumed himself to be, woke up with a girlish shriek. He pulled his sheets up to make himself decent, only to realize something. 
 
 There were about four other people sharing the same bed. All were nude, snoring, and still completely oblivious to the sight that would meet them once they'd awaken. 
 
 `` Now, Nora. It's not what you think,'' said the half-naked man in smelly bed with four other sweaty, sleeping bodies, `` There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for this.'' 
 
 Nora rolled her neck, loading a fresh pod into the icy weapon that'd been buried in the Vault with her for the year since Nate had awoken. Fiery blood coursed through her pre-war veins, itching for a fight. 
 
 `` Nate. Honey,'' her voice was dripping with snark, `` I could give less of a damn about you going off with others while you thought I was dead.'' 
 
 `` Wait... really?'' Nate said, oblivious to the poorly written sarcasm reply, `` That's great! I mean, yeah! So... how are you?'' 
 
 Nora felt her eye squelch. Had she really married this idiot? Did she really have sex in the park... twice? With this idiot? 
 
 Her eyes rolled back with a loud groan, and opened back up to the sight of her husband. Grinning. With a burst of gunfire jetting out of a heavily-modified ten millimeter pistol. 
 
 The Cyrolator fell to the ground with the VATS-aided shot, disarming the very angry ex-lawyer. At last, now the two could talk and come to a mutually-understandable discussion like normal adults. 
 
 You know, the kind that the typical 1950s American wife and husband would have back in the wayback-when times. 
 
 A shouting match. In the bedroom. With guns. 
 
 Nora produced a snub-nosed point-forty-four from out of seemingly nowhere on her raider-styled Vault 111 gear. 
 
 Thus, the shouting match began. 
 
 `` WHERE DID THAT GUN EVEN COME FROM?!'' 
 
 `` WHY THE HELL DID YOU LEAVE ME IN THE VAULT WITHOUT ANY MEDICINE?!'' 
 
 `` HOW THE SHIT DID YOU EVEN FIND ME IN BOSTON?!'' 
 
 `` I GOT SHOT IN THE FUCKING HEAD! SO, WHY DID N'T YOU LEAVE SOME STIMPACKS FOR ME? PEOPLE WHO GET SHOT IN THE FUCKING HEAD ARE DAMNED DETERMINED, DID N'T YOU KNOW?!'' 
 
 `` YOU SHOULD'VE BEEN DEAD WITH THAT KINDA BRAIN DAMAGE! WHAT'' D YOU GET HIT WITH, A SEDATIVE?!'' 
 
 Somewhere, way out West in the Mojave, some courier who had just shot some bastard for wishing for nuclear winter now felt an itchy bit of deja-vu on their lead-filled temple. 
 
 -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 
 
 Meanwhile, back in Diamond City, the shouting match continues. Though, at this point, it's devolved into a slightly different form. 
 
 Preston Garvey, local Minuteman with a voice as dry and boring as wet paint, raised his eyebrows with a stir of `` General, I've found another settlement that needs our help.'' 
 
 The duster-wearing cowboy-hatted soldier-boy scratched his groin and looked over to the general's beloved couch. His eyes spotted two strangers in the act of `` hitting home base'' and his hand reached for the useless laser musket. 
 
 He then realized that one of those two strangers was the General himself as MacCready tugged on his arm to silence him while Cait went on and kneed the Minuteman where the sun do n't shine. 
 
 Garvey felt himself give up and resigned himself back to slumber, with the noise of Bostonian groaning and moaning filling the air. 
 
 He found one solace in the reunion between the father and mother though. 
 
 Now, he could send them to two settlements. At the same time. 
 
 Now, he could mark two locations on the map. At the same time. 

