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falloutglow · 5 years ago

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Hazard

[AO3 link]

Summary: Down in the Third Rail, Nova wants to buy a drink while her ghoulfriend, NoOne, just wants to relax, and the mayor makes his entrance.

Written for Discord Server Prompt.

Nova hopped onto the bar stool and stared at the Mr. Handy wearing a bowler hat passing out drinks down at the other end of the counter. As he hovered back, Nova pressed her elbows on the counter, cupped her chin and batted her lashes. The Handy eyed her. He had a few stickers in red, white, and blue stuck to him. Or were they magnets. Oooo maybe they sold those too?

“You gonna buy something, or sit there taking up space, Ma’am?”

Nova grinned, refocusing on the Handy’s trio of eyestalks. “Got any whiiiisky?” She asked, letting her dangling feet kick the counter and her stool’s legs.

“Sorry,” he said, in his condescending tone, “fresh out.”

She squinted at him as she stuck out her lower lip. “Pleaaaaaaase~” she fluttered her lashes again. When he didn’t make a move she huffed, “fiiine. What about some Stout stuff.”

A dark blue bottle appeared in front of her. “Twelve caps.”

She slapped eleven down and popped the one off her bottle. “Thaaaank youuuuu~” she sang before sliding off her chair and scurrying off close to the stage. A ghoul wearing a dusty cowboy hat raised her head as Nova took the open spot next to her.

She clicked her tongue as Nova tapped her bottle against the ghoul’s. “Charlie not sellin’ ya whiskey?” She guessed as Nova pulled her bottle close.

Nova sighed loudly. “Nooooo,” she took a swig of her drink and swished it in her mouth before swallowing, “eh, not the saaaame, NoOne.”

NoOne rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair. “Not my fault you’re a hazard to society when ya drink too much.” She took a sip of her own drink, a nuka cola and rum. Something else Nova was forbidden to drink in present location. “You’ll burn right through ‘em if yain’t careful, Matches.”

Nova’s lower lip quivered.

“No,” NoOne sighed loudly, “now hush, Mags is gonna sing something.”

Nova leaned on the table to rest her chin right as Magnolia in her flashy, sequin scarlet dress took to the stage. Nova perked up as the band started to play a nice jazz number and Magnolia’s voice cut through the chattering room. NoOne leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes as Nova placed her chin on her hands. Nova’s body swayed to the music as she hummed to the music. She turned to NoOne and grinned.

“Dance?” Nova asked, reaching over to grab NoOne’s hand.

One of NoOne’s eyes opened. She hummed. “You dance?”

Nova scoffed. “Of course!” She rolled her eyes, “We danced last week!”

NoOne snorted. “Fair.” She grunted as she sat up while Nova scurried to NoOne’s side as she stood. “How much didja drink?"

Nova blinked and puffed her cheeks. “Only like a couple sips.”

NoOne took a quick swig of her nuka cola and rum and sat it on the table. “Just checkin’.” Nova grabbed NoOne’s hands and dragged her to the open area before NoOne could protest too much.

Hand in hand they pushed and pulled each other. Nova beamed up at NoOne, not caring one bit that eyes were suddenly focusing on them. A couple steps and Nova spun. They pressed together as Nova laughed. She loved being spun. NoOne’s hand squeezed Nova’s shoulder as Nova pressed her hand on NoOne’s back. Their hands clasped together as they dipped with the rhythm. They broke apart and pulled together, side by side. NoOne smirked at Nova, her eyes sparkling against the neon.

They continued their dance, feet narrowly missing each other as the rhythm took them. NoOne chuckled, breathless, as she was dipped, her hand reactively holding onto her hat before gravity took it. Nova beamed as the Magnolia’s song ended and some folks who’d be watching, whistled in approval.

Nova helped NoOne back to her feet just as a familiar bright red frock came into view, clapping with the rest of the crowd.

“Not bad sweetheart,” Hancock laughed as he approached them, “not bad.” NoOne scoffed, her previous smile nonexistent as Hancock high fived Nova.

“And what’s our ‘good’ mayor doing round here?” NoOne said, idly placing her hands on her hips.

Hancock grinned at her as he leaned against the bar. “Ey Charlie, get everyone here a round on me.”

The Mr. Handy scoffed, but muttered an “Of course.” As he hovered over to the closest crowd at the bar, eagerly waiting for a refill.

Nova gasped. “Oooo! Can I have-“

Hancock pushed off the counter, his face turned serious as he nodded to their table. NoOne shot him a surprise look as she hooked arms with Nova, who started to pout, realizing nobody here was going to allow her to drink her whiskey. Hancock tilted his hat at Magnolia, signalling her to start up a new song as the trio hunkered down in their spots near the stage.

Hancock grabbed the stout bottle and swirled it. Nova huffed. “That’s mine.”

“Sorry Sister,” he said as he took a swig, “but you know the rules.”

She crossed her arms and stuck out her lower lip. “Y'all are rude.”

NoOne sniffed her drink and ran her finger on the rim before gently tasting it. Hm. Nothing. She took a last swig of her drink and sat her empty bottle back on the table. “Rather be rude than crispy, Matchstick.” She said, gently kicking the toe of her boot against Nova’s leg.

Nova sighed loudly as she, dramatically as possible, laid her cheek on the table. “I’ll burn it off…” she mumbled.

“Go get a nuka,” Hancock gestured to the bar with his head, “on the house.”

Nova laid there, frowning as she weighed her options before rolling off the table and lading perfectly on her feet. “Fine.” She crossed her arms, “but you still owe me.” She stuck her nose in the air and marched off while NoOne turned her attention to Hancock.

“So,” NoOne said, leaning on the table and pushing her empty bottle to the side, “what’s the good ol’ mayor doing busying himself with us locals and throwing caps at gettin’ everyone drunk?”

Hancock smirked against the mouth of his bottle. “Word on the street is ah…” he leaned towards her, voice lowering so not even Magnolia could hear him above her own voice, “you recently made a trip to a brewery.” He placed the stout bottle on the table and turned the label towards her.

NoOne grimaced. “Yes. That place was crawling with raiders. Very flammable. Your point?”

Hancock tapped the bottle. “Our favorite little flame mentioned something about a recipe…”

NoOne groaned and rubbed her face. “Of course she did.”

“Of course I did what?” Nova asked, taking a long swig of her Nuka Cola. She grinned as they stared at her like a radstag caught in a headlamp. “Didja know that alcohol can burn like 3 thousand degrees.” She nodded to herself as she sat down between them, “Very hot.”

Hancock snorted as NoOne shook her head. “No? Ya don’t say.” Hancock tapped the stout bottle against Nova’s Nuka Cola, “That is mighty hot.” NoOne tipped her empty bottle before either of them could tap it.

Nova nodded sagely, as she tapped the bottom of her bottle against the empty one, sending it spinning on the table. “Yep, though not nearly as hot as either of you.” She fluttered her lashes.

NoOne sighed and turned away as Hancock laughed. “Laying it on mighty thick today, Sister.”

NoOne cleared her throat and gave Nova a pointed look. “What do you want, Matchstick?”

Nova scooted her chair a bit closer to NoOne and leaned on the table. Her deep brown eyes staring deeper into the blackened abyss. “Dance with meeeeeee .” She stuck out her lower lip and fluttered her lashes again. “Pleaaaaaaase~”

Hancock gestured to Nova while giving NoOne a mischievous grin. “If you won’t, I wouldn’t mind giving our lady a dance.”

Nova gasped and bounced in her chair as she spun towards him. “ Really!? ”

Hancock nodded. “Course I would Sweetheart~”

NoOne frowned at Hancock as she grabbed Nova’s free hand. “Uh, no. I see what you both are doing and I hate both of you.”

Hancock shrugged his shoulders as Nova chugged the rest of her bottle. “Whatever do you mean?”

NoOne narrowed her eyes at him as Nova slammed her now empty bottle onto the table. “You manipulative little-“ Nova tugged NoOne down a little to plant a big wet kiss on her cheek. The rest of NoOne’s words died in her mouth.

“You loooove uuuuuus~” Nova sang and beamed at NoOne with pride while Hancock gave Nova a low-five.

NoOne grumbled under her breath as Nova tugged her to her feet. “C’moooon~ Another dance before Mags takes a breaaaaaaak.”

Hancock leaned back in his chair and raised the bottle towards them as NoOne was dragged to the dance floor. “Another time then.” He said to himself as Magnolia shot him an amused look, still singing and watching her crowd.

Nova held NoOne’s hands in hers and they once again began their dance, gently pushing and pulling each other as they found the rhythm to Magnolia’s next song. They laughed and spun, dipped and swayed, unaware of anyone else in the room. Hancock smiled to himself, drinking the remains of the Stout he took. He rolled his shoulders and adjusted his signature tricorn hat as he stood and slowly made his way towards the exit.

They’ll come find him when they’re done.

They always do.

#fallout 4 #fo4 #john hancock fallout 4 #hancock #ghouls #glow fic #glow's ocs #NoOne is a ghoul #Poppy 'Nova'#i need to give her a last name someday....#*jazz hands* check it yo #I FINISHED A THING!! :D

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doublerumnukacola · 6 years ago

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Second Last Dance

They emerged from the State House the sound of the crowds around them a little overwhelming. She’d never seen Good Neighbor this packed. It was suffocating for her to be surrounded by the drunken masses.

Then they caught sight of Hancock and the crowd surged towards them. Sole stepped backwards to the State House as Hancock stepped forward, passing out what remained of his chem stash like he was giving out candy.

It felt exactly like pre-war Halloween, complete with kids in costumes. Some were hobos, gangsters, clowns, zombies… And to think the latter was the most friendly of the bunch. She leant against the disintegrating white paint of the ancient building as the last of the Mentats were distributed, the final tin having to be yanked from Hancocks leathery fingers. He gave a sigh as the crowd dispersed. Maybe in relief, or regret. She came up behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You look like you need a drink.” She noted, he turned to look back at her with a thin, tired, smile. “Maybe a few drinks, actually.”

“You don’t know the half of it, sister.” He admitted. “Haven’t had a straight drink in awhile. Usually spritze it up with a few Daytripper. For taste, of course.”

“Ohno, not tonight.” She chuckled, spinning him around to face her. “Doctors orders, you’re already pushing it with drink.” He shrugged, old habits die hard. She could tell she would have her work cut out for her. She was going to have to keep him away from temptation...

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The sky above GoodNeighbor was dotted with faint stars against a deep, dark blue. The Sun said its last goodbyes at the Horizon, lingering like an unwanted house guest. The lamp lights glowed, waiting to be spotlights for the party. Magnolia had moved outside the Rexford, music playing from an old prewar speaker Daisy’d had in her attic. The usual upbeat jazz set was playing with Mags lending her sultry voice.

Sole and Hancock were drinking on the balcony of the State House, in an attempt to keep him distracted from the slurry of chems making their way through the crowd. The rum tasted like medical disinfectant mixed with cinnamon, but it kept them happy enough.

“I gotta ask somethin’.” Hancock started, taking a swig from the clear glass bottle, the dark liquid rushing to meet him. “What was it like, before… All this?” She shrugged and glanced away. It was question she got a lot. She’d had a lot of time to think of a good answer.

“Honestly, not great.” She answered bluntly. He nearly choked on his next swig of drink, spluttering it on the party goers below them. She smirked as a few held up their hands, checking for rain with confused faces. Hancock turned to look at her, and she continued. “We had prisoner camps in our own country, secret police, not to mention Vault-Tech.” She mused, remembering what life had really been like. “At the time, I kept my head down. I told myself it would all change after the war… I guess I was right...” Her hands gripped the railing, the ancient wood was feeble beneath her fingers.

“Looking back though, how could I have done so little? I had friends taken in the night; my colleagues who had tried to defend innocent people accused of treason… And I did nothing.” She took a breath. “And here, in the wasteland, I make a difference.” She smiled over at Hancock. “And everything is different, people here, in Good Neighbor, they’re free. Really free. You would never have had that before the war. Not for long anyway...”

“It’s funny…” He smiled back at her, “Daisy always makes it sound like Heaven on Earth...”

“Daisy’s had a long time to romanticise it.” Sole sighed. “For me, it’s just been a couple months...” Something about those words stuck in her throat. Months, centuries… What’s the difference?

Hancock could have kicked himself. He finally had a moment to himself with Sole, and he has to bring the mood down with a question like that. His stomach was turning, not quite agreeing with the rum and snack cakes. Or maybe it was something else. Something that hadn’t twisted his insides in awhile. Sole was looking forlorn at the street below, was it too late?

Then a commotion on the street caught his attention. The music stopped, the speakers softening to a silence. Kent was talking to Magnolia excitedly, holding some tapes in his hand.

“What’s going on there?” Sole asked, eyes brightening a little with curiosity.

“Not sure,” Hancock admitted, “Some scavver sold him some old broken Silver Shroud tapes. Guess he got them working.” She looked over at him in surprise. “Yeah, Kent’s actually pretty good with fixing Holotapes. It’s how he’s gotten all those old radio plays.” Her fingers flitted over her Pipboy for a moment, before returning to the railing. Hancock pretended not to notice.

“You think we’re about to hear another tale of the Shroud?” She asked with a small smile. “I should have dressed for the occasion.” His eyes dipped over the rose pink dress.

“Oh, I think you’re dressed just fine...” He muttered. Suddenly the street burst into music, and instead of Magnolia, sweet little Kent was stood at the mic. The tune sounded familiar, a tinny trumpet playing. The nostalgia made her smile.

Heaven, I'm in heaven, And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak And I seem to find the happiness I seek When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek

There was a tap at her shoulder, she looked back at Hancock holding a hand out to her. Her smile faltered. He kept his hand out, but there was a slight tremble to his fingers.

“Can’t help staring, huh?” He chuckled, a nervous edge to his voice.

Heaven, I'm in heaven, And the cares that hang around me through the week Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek

His hand started to fall, it was a stupid gesture. Why would a dame like that- Her fingers wrapped around his and he was pulled close. His heart nearly shot through his chest.

“We can’t waste a song like this, can we?” She smiled, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding his hand. He swallowed, but threw on a cocky grin.

“Whatever you say, sister.”

Oh! I love to climb a mountain, And to reach the highest peak, But it doesn't thrill me half as much As dancing cheek to cheek Oh! I love to go out fishing In a river or a creek, But I don't enjoy it half as much As dancing cheek to cheek

It was awkward, on that small balcony, two people used to a bigger dance floor. It could have been a waltz, or a tango. But all onlookers saw was two people tripping over each other’s feet, hands clinging loosely to the other as they held each other, laughing uncontrollably.

Dance with me I want my arm about you The charm about you Will carry me through to heaven I'm in heaven And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak And I seem to find the happiness I seek When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek

They could barely breathe, tumbling to the balcony floor. Holding their sides now as the laughter subsided. The music played on, but Kent was stepping off the small platform, handing the mic back to Magnolia. They’d just about missed his whole performance. They’d have to ask for an encore later.

“I think, we had better get down.” Hancock noted breathlessly. “Don’t think this old place was built to handle that kind of movement.” She smiled and nodded, rubbing out the soreness of her face from the laughter.

“Hey, thanks for that.” She said gratefully, pulling herself to her feet.

“Sure thing, Sister.” He said with a dismissive wave, “What are friends for?” Friends? He kicked himself as he followed her back into the State house. I mean, yeah, she’s his best friend. But he had the chance to make a move and he… He said they were just friends? What the hell was wrong with him?

“Hey, Hancock?” Sole called from his office. He looked over, and she was holding two cone shaped party hats. “I fished these from behind your sofa, want one?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “Not sure that would fit over the ‘ol tricorn…”

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The party was intense. As the night drew on, the top shelf liquor started to flow. The world seemed to spin for everyone. Magnolia sung on, and when her voice was at its limits, they put on Kents broadcast of the Silver Shroud, prompting some waggling eyebrows from Hancock to Sole. As the party waned, the drifters passing out one by one, the broadcast turned to Classical Radio. No one dared put on Diamond City around Sole, she tended to get a little shooty with the radios as soon as she heard Travis’s voice. By then, the liquor had all but run out, and the few left awake in Good Neighbor sat in the square, drinking nuka cola of all things.

Sole and Hancock were some of the few party goers left awake. They lay on the cobblestones of the square, looking up at the night sky. Hancock even had Fahrenheit shut off all the lamps so the stars would seem brighter, but left the Christmas lights on at Sole’s request. The air was cold, Sole’s jacket came in useful to keep off the chill as they lay still under the night sky. Sole couldn't help but glance from the sky to the ghoul beside her, who was animatedly telling her about the patterns in the stars, in his own way.

“... And that one is the bent frying pan.” Hancock continued, pointing up at a constellation. “My old man used to say it was part of a yao-gui in the sky, but I can't see it myself.”

“Funny, before the war it was the big dipper.” Sole added softly, returning her gaze to the stars in question.

“What the hell is a dipper?” Hancock demanded, genuinely perplexed. Sole shrugged her shoulders.

“I think it’s like a ladle.” She answered unsuredly.

“Oh yeah, I can see that.” Hancock said, squinting a bit.

“Nah, I liked yours better. People know what a bent frying pan is.” Sole admitted. She looked again at the stars. She raised her hand and pointed to a constellation with three bright stars and cornered with four more. “So what’s that one?”

“Well that’s easy.” Hancock answered smugly. “It's the Vault boy with his dick out.” Sole turned to look at Hancock incredulously. “What? You can see it right there! Just below those three stars is a flaccid cock! What did you used to call it?”

“Orion, and those three stars are his belt… And the one below are meant to be his… Knife.” Sole replied awkwardly. Hancock laughed. Yeah, ‘knife’ wasn't believable.

“So who’s Orion?” Hancock asked, stretching an arm out and putting it behind his head.

“Oh, I actually know this.” Sole gushed excitedly, sitting up and turning to him. “Orion was this hunter in ancient Greece, and he used to hunt with this goddess Artemis. But her brother got jealous and made a huge scorpion to kill him.” Sole leant forward, Hancock could tell she was getting to her favorite part, she always did that when telling stories. “In her grief, Artemis placed Orion in the sky so he could live forever in the stars. But her brother put the scorpion up there to chase him through the heavens for eternity, you know, like an asshole.”

“Fuck, so there are Rad-scorpions in the sky too?” Hancock asked incredulously. She smiled at the joke. He liked to think he could do better than that. “Ancient Greece, huh?” He continued. “Sounds familiar, is that like the lard Daisy uses in her mirelurk cakes?” Sole laughed and shook her head. “Yeah then I'm sticking to the naked Vault boy.” Sole shook her head, still grinning, and laid down again. Looking at the constellation again, she could completely see it. And now she could never UN-see it!

“Give me another one!” Hancock urged, giddy more from being over-tired than drunk. Sole shook her head.

“Those were the only ones I knew.” Sole sighed, yawning. She rested her eyes.

“Come on, you can't sleep here, you'll wake up feeling the way I look.” Hancock advised. He shakily got up, brushing the dust off his coat. “Here, let me help you.” He extended his hand once again, but he was in no shape to help anyone. Luckily she waved it away.

“Leave me alone…” She murmured. “It's comfy here…” He sighed. He couldn't carry her to save his life. He looked around for someone to help him, but everyone was either too tired, too stoned, or too Kleo.

Then he heard soft snores come from his feet. He looked down and she was out cold on the cobblestones. He knew from experience what waking up with a hangover felt like on these rocks, and it wasn't pleasant, but he wasn’t exactly Mr. Muscles…

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Macready was a coward and he knew it. He sat on Daisy’s back porch, smoking his last cigarette. The music had long since died down, and the revelers had passed out.

“You better be using an ashtray.” Daisy muttered beside him. She had a bottle of beer in her hand, leaning against the screen door behind her. The old lady may have been a serial complainer since he arrived, but she enjoyed the company.

“Sure thing,grandma.” He joked, tipping the end of the ash into a dingy ceramic ashtray. She was too tired to smack him for that comment, she could only grumble. There was a quiet as he took one last drag and ground out the cigarette, glowing embers dying in the blackened ash.

“You’re running out of time, Mac.” Daisy said softly. He crossed his arms. He knew she was right. Didn’t make it any easier.

“Yeah, yeah…”

“I mean it. If you want any future with her, you had better fix things soon.”

“And what if she’s over it?”

“Then you can at least apologise for being an ass.”

He was quiet, he did owe her that. He stood up, dusting off his pants. There were voices still in the square, he knew who they were, as much as he’d tried to ignore them. It was time he stopped running away.

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Then footsteps on the cobblestones caught his attention. He turned around to see Macready emerging from the alley. He nodded to Hancock as he approached, and scooped up Sole quietly. She barely stirred as he held her.

“Hiding in the dark? Trying to take sunglasse’s M.O.?” Hancock asked in annoyance. Macready didn't say a word, ignoring him as he shifted Sole’s weight so he could carry her more comfortably. There wasn't a damn thing Hancock could do. At least the bastard could get her to her room safe. Hancock leaned close, narrowing his coal black eyes.

“So much as a hair out of place when she wakes up, and I’ll make a wind chime out of your dick.” He hissed quietly. Macready furrowed his brow.

“How would you even do that?” Macready asked, more curious than threatened.

“I'm a creative guy.” Hancock answered darkly. Macready just shrugged and started towards the Rex. Hancock watched him go, silently seething. Had he lost his touch? I mean it all sounded pretty threatening. Maybe it was the party hat he had strapped to his head. Yeah that was probably it.

#john hancock #hancock #fanfic #fallout 4

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marvilus-magpie · 7 years ago

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Tagged by @alexaberkeley, thank you so much! <3

1. Name/Nickname: Magpie

2. Gender: female

3. Star Sign: scorpio

4. Height: 5′5

5. Hogwarts House: Ravenclaw

6. Favorite Animal: Don’t make me pick! I love the fluffy, the feathered and the scaly.

7. Hours of Sleep: 4-5 and that really isn’t enough.

8. Dog or Cats? both

9. Number of Blankets: 1

10. Dream Trip: Usually I’d say anyplace with a lot of history, but right now I’d settle for anyplace warm! (It’s snowing outside and I am not mentally prepared.)

11. Dream Job: I used to think I wanted to be a story book illustrator. IDK.

12. Current Time: 8:30 am

13. Birthday: November 21

14. Last Show I Watched: Stranger Things 2

15. When Did I Create my Blog? 3 or 4 years ago? I was just a lurker though, I only became active on it in February of this year.

16. Song Stuck in my Head: "Got that damn Nuka Cola song stuck in my head again”. Seriously! I was there recently on one of my play throughs and that song is relentless!

17. Other Blogs: @magpiexiii my art blog

18. Why I Chose my URL: Ugh. It’s old and doesn’t mean anything anymore. I probably should change it. It’s the combination of the names of two characters I used to like and two of my lucky numbers.

19. Following: 147

20. Followers: 287

21. Favorite Instrument: violin

22. What I’m Wearing: Teal v-neck tee with 3/4 length sleeves, black leggings and wooly socks.

23. Top 3 Fictional Universes I’d Like to Join: Fallout , TES, Star Wars.

Not tagging anyone right now because 1. I think most people (that want to be) have been tagged and 2. My anxiety levels the last couple days are stupid! BUT if you want to do this consider yourself tagged!

#Tagged #Personal #Thank you so much for the tag!!

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fandomverseofanthony · 7 years ago

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The Vampyre Of Time And Memory

Hey guys, it’s me. I. bet. you. thought. that. I. waaaaaaaas. DEAD!

Whaaaaaaat? TWO references to Queen’s of the Stone Age? (Hint: Druncle’s lyrics are not of my creation, but a song of QotSA)

Jumping back into the massive fandomverse of Fallout, I wrote a story featuring @ohmdo‘s Druncle and @vectober‘s V! (Also mention of @spacialkiwi‘s Trish and @commonwealth-hugs‘s Abby!) Enjoy!

The gentle feeling of warmth. A familiar caress of the cheek. Hazy memories of a better time, long since passed...

Waking from a deep slumber, Anthony was disappointed to find that he was all alone, laying within a heap of scrap metal. A single ray of light pierced through the smog, beaming down on him. Raising a hand in front of his face, he tried his best to keep himself from being blinded.

Anthony’s mind felt scrambled, unsure of how he got into his current position. He could only assume that the feeling was similar to a hangover. Letting out a long groan as he shifted uncomfortably in place, he combed through his memories, looking for anything that might provide some insight. His concentration, however, was broken by the arrival of a stranger, their head eclipsing the sun. Straining to focus, his vision corrected itself just in time to see that the person standing over him was pointing the barrel of their pistol directly at him.

“Funny… I don’t remember scheduling a wake-up call.” Anthony quipped, subtly scanning the area for something to defend himself with, just in case.

It wasn’t his first time being held at gunpoint, nor would it likely be the last. Anthony’s bad luck usually put him into unfortunate situations such as this, rarely able to talk his way out of them, but it never stopped him from trying. Experience taught him that not everyone in the wasteland was a crazed psychopath.

The figure stood there, stoic, dressed from head to toe in black, including the mask that was keeping their identity a mystery. Their attire reminded him of the Crimson Dragoons, from the Anchorage Reclamation simulation, but far less gaudy. They were fairly tall, with the tactical clothing clinging to their toned, muscular build. He also noticed that his “Peacemaker” gauss rifle was slung over their shoulder. Whoever they were, it was clear that they were either the remnant of a well-trained group of operatives, or really good at looking the part.

“Who are you? How do you get here?” the stranger questioned. Their voice was deep, yet smooth, not at all what Anthony was expecting.

“Where exactly is ‘here’?” Anthony noted, single brow raised, hoping that the person would be friendly enough to provide an answer.

Despite the stranger’s mask obscuring their expression, Anthony was certain that they were frowning beneath it. Pulling the hammer of the pistol back, they held it closer to Anthony, finger hovering over the trigger. “I’m not fond of repeating myself. Answer the question, or I’ll have to waste a perfectly good bullet. You’ll be stuck bleeding out slowly and painfully…” they insisted, a tinge of annoyance in their voice.

Keeping his composure, Anthony complied with the individual’s request. “My name is Anthony, and I honestly have no idea how I got here.”

The stranger hesitated, leaving Anthony feeling slightly uneasy. The silence was almost unbearable, waiting to see whether they would believe him, or if he was soon to be left in an unmarked grave. The person cautiously holstered their pistol, while Anthony let out a heavy sigh of relief in response. Pulling him out of the heap, he took a moment to observe his surroundings. Below the hill was a makeshift gathering of houses, barricades, and crude defenses. It was the lighthouse that stood behind him that gave the location. Kingsport.

Anthony remembered visiting Kingsport in the past, but it was nothing like its current state. He wondered exactly how long he had been out for, and why he still couldn’t remember much before waking up in that heap. His last memory was in Goodneighbor, assisting Trish with some routine repairs. Anything after that was fractured, at best.

Taking a moment to brush himself off, his attention returned to the stranger. Reaching out, he attempted to shake their hand, having a few questions of his own. “Now that we’re all nice and civil, how long has Kingsport been like this? Last time I was here, there was nothing but abandoned buildings, left over from before the war. Now this place seems to be flourishing, I can only assume thanks to you…” he paused, trying to get a name out of them.

The person firmly shook Anthony’s hand. “Druncle.”

“…Druncle?” Anthony’s brow raised once again, as a slight smirk formed, wondering if it was a nickname of some kind.

They nodded. “M-hm.” The two laughed.

Druncle held out Anthony’s rifle, “I believe this belongs to you.”

As the weapon exchanged hands, Anthony paused. Giving a warm smile, it was as if he was reunited with an old friend. “Yeah, this has gotten me out of a lot of trouble. Saved a lot of lives too.”

Druncle placed a hand on Anthony’s shoulder. “Let me give you the tour.”

Anthony remained in Kingsport, helping wherever his talents could best be put to use. Druncle and Anthony didn’t speak much with one another at first, but something about Druncle made Anthony feel that they were kindred spirits. Every now and then they would share a drink, learning a little more about one another, sharing exploits of action, adventure, horror, drama, and the truly bizarre. Druncle typically favored a small glass of Scotch, while Anthony stuck with his usual bottle of Nuka Cola.

Despite the sense of accomplishment Anthony felt from helping out, and the joy from making new friends, something didn’t feel right. He felt hollow, incomplete, as if a major part of him was missing, yet he had no clue what was causing it. Night after night, he found it harder to sleep. It was slowly taking its toll.

One particular night, Anthony wandered towards the lighthouse, drawn by a haunting melody drifting through the night, telling a story of love and loss. Rounding the building, Anthony was surprised to see Druncle sitting at the top of the lighthouse, on the ledge, solemnly strumming a worn wooden guitar, while overlooking the sea.

“Where O where have you been my love? Where O where can you be? It’s been so long, since the moon has gone. O what a wreck you’ve made me. Are you there over the ocean? Are you there, up in the sky? Until the return of my love, this lullaby…” Druncle gently placed the guitar to his side, sensing Anthony’s presence.

Sitting down next to Druncle, Anthony queried, “Can’t sleep either, huh?”

It wasn’t the real question that he wanted to ask. His curiosity clawing at the back of his mind, insisting that he know more about the song, but Anthony knew better than to pry into someone else’s business.

Druncle lowered his head, finding it difficult to hide his heavy heart.

Anthony shifted his focus away from Druncle, choosing to peer beyond the horizon as he continued. “Don’t worry, I get it. You don’t have to answer. We’ve both seen a lot, been through a lot, and it’s a hefty burden to bear…” Leaning back, he looked up at what used to be the sky, now nothing more than lingering fallout. “…sometimes I just ask myself why I always seem to survive, while those around me tend to die. Is it because my continued existence is some sort of punishment? Am I paying for something I’ve done or should have done?”

Anthony didn’t expect a response from Druncle. Who truly knew the answer to his question? Even just being able to get such feelings off of his chest, sharing his thoughts with someone who knows what it feels like, brought him some semblance of peace.

Druncle placed a comforting hand on Anthony’s shoulder. Rising to their feet, guitar in hand, they offered, “You ever think that... you’re here because there’s some great purpose out there for you? Waiting and all that?” They couldn’t help but let out a drained chuckle, as Anthony waved them off. “Yeah, me neither.”

Patting Anthony’s shoulder, Druncle slowly stepped away, turning back just long enough to finish, “You can’t save everyone… guilt doesn’t change that fact. You’ll get lost in the dark feeling it. Trust me…”

As Druncle disappeared into the lighthouse, Anthony felt a chill run down his spine, putting him on edge. Jumping up, he nervously looked all around him, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. Quickly making his way down the lighthouse stairs, he almost slammed into a well-dressed women, on his way out of the door.

“Ah, so this is where you’ve been hiding…” the woman scoffed.

The woman’s hair was as sleek and black as a raven, peaking out of what looked like a summer hat, both it and her dress matching in shade, with only a hint of purple throughout. Her skin was a pale bronze, with dark eyes that felt as if they were piercing his very soul.

Before Anthony could even open his mouth to speak, she interjected, “I’ve no time for games, and any questions you may have for me will all be answered with this…” she held out an ornate rose, made out of various kinds of metal.

Anthony was hesitant at first, this encounter definitely falling under the ‘truly bizarre’ category, but something about the woman seemed oddly familiar. Against his better judgement, he felt as if he could trust her. The moment his fingers made contact with the rose, it felt as if the last puzzle piece finally clicked into place.

The flood of memories, of events that once were, but now were nothing more than a bad dream, rushed through his mind. Anthony nearly lost his balance, as the onslaught sent him reeling backwards. Horrific visions of Goodneighbor in ruins, those closest to him either dead or experiencing great pain and suffering. Anthony’s eyes welled up with tears as he was forced to relive every agonizing moment. Among all of the darkness, one beacon of light managed to shine through. Alaelys.

Anthony carefully peeled back the petals of the rose, finding a wedding ring inside. The ring he made for the love of his life, the one person he was willing to go to any lengths to be with and keep safe. He made the ring, and the rose that it was encased in, in hopes of asking for her hand in marriage. It was on that day that he planned on proposing to Alaelys. It was that day that Elder Maxson loyalists ambushed Goodneighbor, laying waste to the town, getting revenge for the death of their leader.

In the aftermath, a sharp dressed man appeared before Anthony, black vest, slacks, and dress shoes to match his slicked-back hair, a stark contrast to his warm skin and crimson red dress shirt. A devilish individual that Anthony had run into time and time again, offering to fix everything. All it would cost him was that which he holds most dear, Alaelys.

The gentleman referred to himself as Guile, insisting that all he would do was rewrite reality, ensuring that Anthony and Alaelys would never have met, while also ensuring that several painful events and deaths never come to pass. To make things easier, he would even make sure that Anthony would not remember the deal, and what was lost.

Anthony asked for a moment to decide. For once Guile was willing to wait, sure that this time he would get his way. Vanishing into thin air, Guile’s laughter still echoed in his absence. Anthony called out a letter, no, a name. V.

A woman stepped out from the shadows of Goodneighbor, the same woman that handed Anthony the rose. Anthony knew her, through his friend Abby. He knew that she hated Guile, or more accurately what Guile is, what she is. They were beings not of this world, of great and terrible power, and that’s exactly what he needed at that time.

Anthony pleaded for V to help him make things right, outsmarting Guile in the process. So many lives would be saved, and V gets to revel in the fact that Guile was tricked by a mere mortal. The very thought of it caused her lips to curl into an inhuman smile. She agreed to help Anthony out, taking the flower as part of the plan, but only because he was a close friend of Abby’s and for the humiliation that would be inflicted upon her nemesis.

Snapping back to the present, Anthony wiped the tears from his eyes. V was taken by surprise by Anthony’s sudden embrace, squeezing her tight. “Th-Thank you…” he stammered, almost at a loss for words.

V wasn’t sure how to respond. The only other person to ever have hugged her, and lived, was Abby, and she knew Abby would not be pleased if she killed Anthony. Instead, she stroked his hair, as if he was a pet, before lightly forcing them apart. V nodded, blinking out of existence as she stepped back. Looking back down at the rose, Anthony knew there was only one more thing left to do…

The following morning, Druncle was going through the usual routine of patrolling Kingsport, but felt as if something was missing. They were surprised to find that Anthony was nowhere to be found. Arriving at the lighthouse, there was a bottle of Scotch with a note pinned to it.

Hey Druncle, I’m sorry that I left without saying goodbye, but every second counts. I guess you were right about having a greater purpose. Maybe we all have one, and it just takes being at the right place at the right time to realize that. I appreciate your hospitality, your wisdom, and most of all, your friendship. Oh, and not shooting me in the face, the first time we met… Yeah… This won’t be the last time we see each other, as once I reach this journey’s end, I’ll have one hell of a story to share with you, over a drink. So, as a token of my gratitude, I left this bottle of Scotch, that I purchased off of a caravan not too far from town. It cost a pretty cap, but hey, you’re worth it. Enjoy, my friend.

Until we meet again, Anthony

#Fallout #Fallout 4 #Fallout OC #Fallout 4 OC #Eldritch Horror OC #Non-Ghoul OC #Anthony #Druncle #V #Guile #Writing #Fallout Stories #BestGhoulFriends #TheGhoulCrew

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