#he looks way too damn smooth for a pre-war ghoul

[houses-snowglobes]

watching the Fallout show and TBH... not a Cooper Howard fan. Ignoring my issues with the ghoul look I just think he's an asshole and not in an entertaining way sorry I want him to get beaten to death with bats

[sleepysailorghost]

Benny's Big Score

It turns out that New Reno was not a great place.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, a solution to his problems. But it wasn't.

New Reno was dirty, but not in the same glimmery-glittery way that New Vegas was. It wasn't like when he had come to Vegas for the first time, the Bootstraps with him. He was alone. There were no chairmen to protect him, no brothers willing to die with him.

Sitting in the dingy bar, he curses the courier under his breath.

"Oh, don't get me started on Couriers." a melodic voice chimed in. A smooth-voiced ghoul in a fancy pre-war tuxedo sat down on the barstool next to Benny. "You wouldn't know the half of it."

"A courier done you wrong too?"

"I gave as good as I got." the ghoul replied, and in him, Benny recognized that they were both well-dressed men who had been chased out by couriers.

"And yet we're still sitting here in this bar, ring-a-ding." Benny took a sip of his drink. Disgusting as it was (and expensive!), Benny's pride as a Bootstrap and leader of the Chairmen kept him from spitting it out. "Say, who are you anyhow?"

The ghoul rolled his eyes under the sunglasses he wore.

"200 years ago everyone knew my name. Dean Domino's the name, don't wear it out."

Benny's eyes widened.

"That for real? Where ya been hiding out all this time?" Benny questioned, leaning on the bar counter. "Could have used you back in New Vegas."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Dean answered smoothly. Benny prodded at him again in his "Ring-a-Ding-Ding" fashion, and Dean sighed before answering. "The Sierra Madre."

"Woah, let's keep it in the grove. You," He paused for emphasis. "Are the ghoulified version of prewar icon Dean Domino and you've been hiding out in the casino in the land of the dead?"

"Yes, I suppose if you put it like that."

"I'm the Ben-man, the kingpin of the whole Strip." Benny said, bitterly drinking from his glass. "Or I was."

"Taken down by a courier?" Dean snarked.

"Ain't that a kick in the head. You think you put one in the ground but then they follow you home and try and climb in your bed. Ruin your damn plans. But I'll be back."

"The courier-I never caught their name-banned me from Vegas. They threated to kill me if they ever saw me again. As if they'd get the chance."

"You and me, we're men cut from the same cloth." Benny said, and Dean looked over him.

"Are we really?"

"Yeah, we're both men screwed over by couriers when we could've been kings!" Benny rubbed his hand over his jaw, and then continued. "Y'know...we oughta get together sometime. We could get revenge on the Mojave Express and I have a lot of draw in New Vegas. I could even get you a job preforming in the Tops. Hell, even the Lucky 38."

"Why not?" Dean agreed. Thinking a moment, he asked. "That courier you knew, did they have a large scar on their head?"

"They did actually...a gift from me. Tie, I think that's their name. Well, it's what their boy-toy sniper-type called them when they weren't trying to jump into bed with me."

"Two birds with one stone." Dean said. "Shall we?"

"Yeah, pal."

It took time to get back to New Vegas. This gave them time to plan and plot and scheme about how to get their revenge on the courier.

More or less, it was easy for them to get into the Strip. After all, this was the land that Benny was Chairman of. He was also very skilled with computers, so it wasn't a challenge for Benny to hack into the securitrons.

Their first stop in Vegas was Mick and Ralph's. Throwing a cap to the crier boy outside the story, Benny asked "Are your old men inside?"

The boy responded and Benny strolled into the building like he owned it. Explaining to Dean, he added, "It helps to bring flowers home."

"Benny." Mick greeted shortly.

"Mick, my guy! How's the family?" Benny sidled up to the store owner. "Say, have you gotten any flowers in lately?"

Mick sighed and retreated to the back room. He returned with a wilted bouquet.

"I've only got these in because of Pacer. You know how he's gonna get, you're throwing of his plans with" Mick complained, but Benny cut him off.

"Tell him to send all his complaints to the Tops!" He exclaimed and snatched the bouquet. It was dry and wilty, formed from common Mojave plants rather than one made from Vault-Tec's greenrooms. It must have come in with Crimson Caravans, Benny thought, but Swank would like it well enough.

He shoved a couple caps into Mick's hand-underpaying people was something that got him into trouble before.

"To the Tops!" He called, and Dean followed him.

"Ugh. How things have changed." Dean groaned. "What have you done with the place?"

"Seal it, Dean-o! I've got a man to see. Our plan won't work without Swank."

The man in the check-in window looked up when Benny said his name.

"Shit, Benny. I haven't seen you in ages."

"Missed you too, Swank. You didn't even kiss me goodbye."

"You're not supposed to be here. I know you tried to kill that courier."

"C'mon, Swank. You've gotta let me explain." He gestured with the bouquet. "I brought you flowers."

Swank looked like he was conflicted, but then he sighed.

"Fine. Explain then, boss."

"Alright, so the courier. I did try and kill that courier, but I had good reason for it. You've got to believe me. I needed the platinum chip."

"You can't just keep saying I have to let you explain and I have to believe you. It doesn't work that way. But I'll bite. What's a platinum chip and why did you need it?"

"It's what we need. If we have it, we can upgrade the securitrons and then we won't need the NCR or the Legion or House to protect New Vegas." He smiled bitterly. "It would have been freedom for all of us."

Swank looked at Benny silently.

"I know why I failed now. I needed you and the Chairmen. I needed you."

That seemed to certify it for Swank. He inhaled deeply and then exhaled.

"Alright Benny. But this is the last time. You mess this up and it'll be the end-not just for you and me, but for all of us." He made cautious and firm eye contact with Benny. "What's the plan?"

"You're the man, Swank!" Benny shouted excitedly and leaned over the weapon-check counter to wrap a hand around Swank's shoulder and pull him down for a kiss. Releasing him, he continued. "Oh, it's a doozy of a plan."

Swank looked around and then signalled to another Chairman.

"You take over here." He said, and stepped out from behind the weapon check counter.

The plan was a doozy, Swank thought as he walked from the Tops to the Lucky 38. He hoped the Courier was staying there tonight. If not, he'd have to regroup with Benny and Dean to send them to the Atomic Wrangler instead.

Night had fallen quickly over New Vegas in the hours after Benny had made up with Swank, but his thoughts were quickly interrupted when Swank bumped into someone.

"Watch it," He barked. Looking at the young woman, he realized she was a courier-she had a courier's duster loosely over a purple shirt-but not the one they were going to kill.

"Eh? Did you need something?" She said, "I'm going to Show Low."

It was a dangerous route for a courier because it went right into Legion teritory, but Swank didn't care. It seemed like a good idea at the time, a solution to his problems. But it wasn't.

"Sorry. Good luck!" He said and continued on route to the Lucky 38.

"You too?" Swank heard, but there was a lot of noise. The Strip was loud.

Arriving at the Lucky 38, he let himself in. The collar weighed heavily in his pocket, but he knew that was just in his head. It couldn't weigh more than a pound or two.

"Hello?" he called. "I need to speak to the Courier? It's really important..."

There wasn't any response for a moment. Then the elevator chimed and two people exited.

One was the Courier, and the other was a bitter-faced sniper with an NCR beret.

"Oh...Mr. Tops?" The courier said. "Did you need something? We were just on our way out..."

"Yes, and it's very important. And it can't wait." Swank replied

The little computer on the Courier's arm beeped.

"Alright, what's going on?"

"Sit down, this is very important news." The courier sat down. The sniper stood to the side.

His hands were starting to sweat and he wiped them on his suitpants. Ugh, he could almost hear Benny scolding him for dirtying it.

"I've discovered..." He spoke softly...and the courier leaned into hear better. Just as they planned. "Sorry."

With that, he swiftly reached into his coat pocket and snapped the collar around the courier's neck. It latched closed and armed before they could even move.

They startled back, but it was of no use.

"Recognize it, courier?" a charismatic and smooth voice called as Dean Domino and Benny Gecko strolled into the lobby of the Lucky 38.

The Courier's face was fearful, but the sniper's eyes were full of rage. Their hands clawed at their throat, but it was futile against the explosive collar.

"I wouldn't do that, Pussycat." Benny's voice chimed in. "It's rigged to blow. But I'm sure you knew that. According to my new friend here, you've had some experience with them."

"Dean." They said quietly. " You were warned. I told you what I'd do if I ever saw you again. I'll kill you even if I have to take you down with me."

"Geez, Domino, what'd you do to make 'em hate you so bad?" Benny ran a hand through his hair. "I shot them in the head-twice, even-and left them for dead. And they still tried to sleep with me! Oh, and I wouldn't go making any moves there, friend, unless you'd like your little courier blown to bits. Or do, it would make it easier on me."

"I believe it was that I had their little friend's vocal cords ripped out. Or maybe it was the whole threatening to blow them up." Dean answered. "I never narrowed it down."

"Wow, Benny!" the Pip-Boy beeped. "I never thought I'd see you again! You keep some interesting friends!"

"Yes-Man?" Benny questioned, and then waved it aside. "Eh, never mind. When I've got the platinum chip, I can fix whatever they did to you."

"Yes-Man," Antietam said, dropping their hands from their neck "Could you keep it down? I'm about to get blown up."

"No, you're not." Boone reassured them quietly. "Gotta be some way to take these guys out..."

Internally, Antietam was weighing whether it was worth it to charge Dean and take him down with them. But there was a likelihood of Boone being injured in the blast, so it wasn't going to work out.

"Now, now Courier..." Dean said. "Where did you take the treasure when you ran off? You ruined over two hundred years worth of revenge."

The courier wanted to lash out, but they reigned their temper in.

"You ruined it...You ruined the whole Sierra Madre, did you know that? It could have been a safe haven, a shelter from the nuclear anihilation. But you couldn't tolerate what you percieved as an insult to your ego! And you ruined Vera's life-she was dying and you blackmailed her!" Their vitreolic rant paused. It wasn't the whole sad story, but the only one who knew that was Antietam. And they were too angry and biased against Dean to really care that their rant was biased. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Woah, let's calm down, Pussycat. You keep yourself under control or one of us might just forget ourselves and hit that button. We wouldn't want that, now would we? Let's get down to business." Christine and Veronica ran downstairs.

"Hey, what's going on? We heard commotion." Veronica said, and then when she saw the situation, she put her hands on her hips. "Are you guys having a party without me?"

Christine, on the other hand, growled.

"Dean." It came out in Vera's voice, and if Dean had skin, it would have gone pale with fear. As it was, it broke his composure.

"So it worked." He said finally.

"Alright, don't make any moves!" Benny shouted. "You try anything and I'll blow your friend to smithereens."

"Who are these guys?" Veronica asked.

"Some guys who tried to kill Tie before, I think." Boone answered

"Dean Domino, Swank Gecko-Pierce, and I'm the pro from Dover." Benny barked. "Now I want answers! Where's the platinum chip?"

None of them answered.

"I guess none of you value the Courier's life, seeing as none of you are providing answers." He pulled Maria from his pocket. "No matter. We'll start with the boy toy."

With that, he leveled Maria at Boone.

"Things are getting a little heated, Benny." Swank said, making eye contact with the checker-suited man.

"Stop." The Courier said. "I'll tell you where I hid the chip. Just let my friends go."

"Benny, this is getting more heated than I thought it would." Swank noted.

"Can it, Swank. We're about to get some answers!" Benny responded.

"It's in the dresser in the motel in Novac. Let my friends go, Benny."

"It's like it doesn't even matter to you!" Benny exclaimed. "It-" Swank cut him off by setting a hand on Benny's outstretched arm.

"Benny, calm down. We don't have time for his right now."

"Yeah, Benny, calm down." Dean chimed in, although it was clearly mocking him, which Benny picked up on immediately.

"You got something to add, Deano?" Benny snarked back.

"You know, Ben-man, I think I'm tired of playing accomplice. I'm so tired of playing second fiddle...I think I'll kill you and your friends and claim New Vegas for my own."

"Yeah, that's not happening." Benny fired back. He pointed Maria at Dean. "It's been real and it's been great, but it's not real great."

He fired.

"Shit, Benny, you missed." Swank said, to which Benny responded "Shut up, I know I missed."

He shot again and again and Dean didn't move, until he slumped to the ground, full of lead.

"Well, that's a bust." Benny said. "Hey, whataya say, Courier? We can burry the hatchet with this guy and work together. I won't kill you or your little friends and you won't kill me and Swank. Fair's fair, right?"

It was a stretch-even now, Christine and Veronica's nimble fingers were removing the explosive collar from the angry courier's throat. But Benny had always been a gambling man.

[og-danny-dorito]

Hancock SFW Headcanons To Satiate My Undying Thirst for This Raisin

this is dedicated to all of my 12 year old monster/humanoid obsessions, and to the ones which may follow such as this mans, John Hancock, the mayor of Goodneighbor. because I'll be damned if I see a ghoul and don't become immediately attracted to them. also these weren't requested, but @thatwolfnamednyla​ seemed interested so i'll tag them (i can remove the tag too if you want me to, just let me know).

<---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------->

S F W :

- ok so, I’m gonna start off with physical headcanons because it’s easier for me to base everything off of that 

- since most of the heights in the game are the same and they don’t really give any actual canon heights for them, I’d say that he’s about 5”5 because I love the imagine of a short man with a knife. like-

- yeah he’s definitely powerful and strong willed and mental the opposite of a short baby man, but like can you just imagine some dude walking up to you and having to look up at you because he’s small? Especially a high af ghoul man small boy? an artistic virtue

- that, and he’s generally the most crackhead out of all the companions 

- like he’s the guy to go to if you’re itching to bust out some chems and go shoot at random shit in the middle of the night cause he’s just that kinda dude 

- he lives for the thrill of things, and so obviously someone equally as crackhead as he is would fit him perfectly, but for the sake of actual relationship building I’d say that he’s better fit with a rational crackhead 

- like yeah, going out and getting yourself fucked up is great, but like not to the point of getting yourself so fucked up beyond repair, yknow? someone who takes a second and a half to think his crazy ass ideas through and THEN do it with him is the best person for the job as his metaphorical babysitter 

- and he really likes to be taken care of because he’s a sucker for that shit. I would say that he has a daddy/mommy kink but like these aren’t nsfw and so I’m not gonna bust out that nasty shit just yet 

- that said, being his partner doesn’t have very specific guidelines. being pansexual AND polyamorous allows him to love freely as he was genetically destined to anyway 

- seriously, he’s attracted to you if you say something nice to him and show a little bit of interest that’s just how it is. he doesnt really think of appearances unless he's only out for dick

- he doesn’t really have a specific type either??? but he finds timid and nervous people so fucking cute. like,,, if you keep apologizing because of small things he’ll ruffle your hair and start calling you ‘kid’ and ‘sweetie’ cause honestly it’s just so sweet to see you get all nervous and shy 

- it literally makes him want to fistfight someone in an abandoned parking lot for you and he can't help his protectionist ways

- like he likes to be taken care of yeah, but he ends up setting y’all in the ‘give some get some’ scenario where it’s more of a partnership 

- jokingly calls you ‘smoothskin’ even if your skin isn’t smooth like you’re scarred or something. it cracks him up because he does it in a smoker voice too but he already sounds like a smoker so he ends up coughing a little bit after in between laughs 

- biggest goofball on the planet 

- will literally play pranks on you because he finds it funny, like using makeshift pre-war whoopee cushion and shit like that. will also 100% love it if you prank him back. he doesn’t take much seriously and so any form of mild joking makes him genuinely happy 

- if you’re inclined to more permanent relationships however, this could become an issue. not the whole whoopee cushion thing the seriousness thing

- just because he does sleep with other people and lowkey tell you all the time about how “That raider was packin, and I don’t mean to be a whore but honestly like if he wanted some he could get some.”, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you. it’s just that it’s normal for him to be attracted to other people at the same time. it can be more than one person at once, which can sometimes be a problem if more traditional people not cool with it 

- confronting him about it either to confirm it negatively or positively depends on your preference. he didn’t really think of this as permanent in the first place, more of a friends with benefits situation where you also benefit each other with extreme emotional support, and so you wanting to make it serious will trigger his fear of commitment 

- therefore, if you’re not okay with it he may have a hard time adapting, but if he’s really grown on you then he can try to be better about it. he won’t make the one he loves uncomfortable without their permission, but he’ll try his best to explain it (the best that he can doesn't necessarily that he’ll do it well though) 

- if you’re alright with it then he will most likely bring up the topic of either threesomes/poly-somes and/or adding someone else to your romantic stuff or something like that if either of areyou is interested. communication is key in this sort of thing, and so he’ll almost always go to you before like trying to initiate anything with someone after talking with them and you about the situation 

- oh did I mention fear of commitment? Cause I’m about to get real angsty 

- MAN does he have an issue with it. not only that, but the reason he doesn’t really view this thing as permanent is because he’s fairly certain he’ll outlive you. he's terrified of loosing you one day and then not knowing what the he'll to do with himself for the rest of his life. he’s scared of being tied down it totally goes against his whole thing of freedom, and since he’s already conflicted about anarchy and order he literally avoids thinking about settling down with anyone or anything 

- he’s holding onto a past that brought him joy then, but could ruin him now. and the best way to deal with that is to try to get through it as best as you can and leave the past behind, but he still finds himself reminiscing about things that could’ve happened 

- it keeps him up sometimes, thinking about it. he’ll lay flat on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling for hours at a time just... thinking. and only when he’s lightly pressed about it will he say something, and even then it seems more like he’s struggling to find the words. It’s weird how he can talk to goodneighbor’s citizens like it’s nothing, but talking about himself gets him all choked up 

- he would very much like it if you just like, kissed his face or hold his hand sometimes. to him it speaks more than a thousand words, and if he’s really having a hard time it means everything for you to be there for him 

- that, and with the fact that you’re his best friend means that you’re his ride or die partner in crime 

- just sitting around and doing chems with you and getting all philosophical or doing dumb shit is pretty much all he needs to be satisfied with you, and he really likes hearing you talk about pre-war society 

- whether your views are negative or positive, he likes hearing about the way things used to work. he likes your stories about how you grew up and how you came to be who you are today, and a lot of the time he finds himself asking you about something he doesn’t know because you’re technically the ultimate source of knowledge on that stiff by this point 

- you’d have to assure him that you didn’t know everything and no, you had no idea what year that random object he found was made, but he likes it anyway. you pique his interest, and just sharing a few mindset traits with you makes him feel much more secure and like you’ve got something that matters to the both of you 

- that, and he thinks you’re the coolest motherfucker on the planet 

- he’d probably be more attracted to free spirits, those who hold a strong moral code and defend it like it’s their lifeline. obviously he has a wide range of romantic and causal interest guidelines, but that’s the key point there. Someone who stands for what they believe in and protects those around them 

- and NOW for my favorite part, miscellaneous headcanons ; 

he’s probably the most openly sexual out of all the companions besides Gage, but tbh gage isn't down to walk naked through commonwealth and he is so obviously he’s the most freaky 

he’s more himbo oriented, although with this chart done originally by @cockneydio​

I can tell you that he’s this 👌 close to being a feral himbo and is probably turned on by danger so you can already tell what kinda bitch he is 

he likes to give you his jacket when you’re cold or he just feels like it and it usually smells like cigarettes and gunpowder 

thinks that pastel colors and soft clothes are kind of cute on people for some reason 

is a sucker for pda, might die if you kiss on his neck or tell him he looks nice that day while you’re in public. Also super into just randomly slapping your ass because he finds it hilarious (slapping his ass in turn earns you a flirty comment and a mildly turned on raisin man) 

loves receiving gifts from you and equally as much giving them, which is commonly just cool little things he’s found and thought you would like 

makes cheesy pick up lines all the time and you can’t change my mind 

would die for pet names, given or received. like yes call him “honey” and “sugar” he will MELT he's just a big nerd

he's kinda self conscious about himself around you, but likes phsycial contact too much to deny himself of it so he's literally always attached to you and/or on top of you if he can help it

- hancock isn’t feral, but he sure does act like it sometimes. what he needs is someone who can balance him out and give him the space when he needs it, and who genuinely cares about he people around them regardless of who or what they are. just being there for him on the bad days means the world to him, and he wouldn’t give what y'all have up for all the caps and chems in the world

[johnandrasjaqobis]

OC Interview Meme

I got tagged by the lovely @flannelshirtandjeans (thank you and also boi it was hard to pick)

so THOMAS, at some point after Everything

How old are you? I mean that depends on what all you’re counting. I was...what, 26 coming out of the Vault? But there were 200 years of being an ice cube. It’s been a little while since. I dunno, somewhere between 26 and 230.

What do you look like? I’ve been told like I need a good night’s sleep. Which is...probably accurate. Taller than pretty much anyone but the Coursers, hair is finally consistently clean, and the bags under my eyes are designer.

Where are you from? Like, originally? New Mexico. I think. That’s the first place I remember at least. Shuffled around a lot with foster care, ended up in Boston for college. Didn’t live in Sanctuary Hills for too long before the bombs fell. These days most people just say I’m from the Vault, which I guess is kind of true. It was a very different place.

Where do you live now? Most of the time, underground. Got a nice cushy space down here, complete with real beds and a shower. The Institute is nice, clean, and people are starting to crack smiles a little more than once a week. Sometimes I get missing the sun, so we’ve -- I’ve got a place on the coast. Just had to clear out the ghouls and patch up the roof, it’s good for sort of vacations.

What was your childhood like? I don’t...actually know. According to a bunch of people in lab coats, probably terrible. I don’t remember anything before I was about 9, and that started in the system. There were a lot of different homes. A lot of appointments. All of that, it could’ve been worse. The only way to get through it is to get through it. And I had...company, at least.

What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions? I mean I think running one of them counts as allied. The Institute has standing deals with the Minutemen, mutually beneficial deals and we work with them pretty non stop. There was some...tension with the transition to begin with, but things have smoothed out for the most part. Hopefully.

Tell me about your best friend Not really sure who would count. Allie was one of the most welcoming when I first showed up here, I always appreciated that. X6 is -- now staring at me, sorry pal, but I think you count. Kinda hard not to get to know someone when they’re stuck as your bodyguard pretty much all the time. He’s a lot funnier than he’ll ever admit, and probably going grey dealing with me always getting shot at. Though -- I dunno, can Coursers get grey hairs? Does anyone know that?

Do you have family? Tell me about them I did, uh...well, I had my wife. Audrey. Ridiculous and sharp and endlessly patient. She’s been gone a while now. My son was...an odd case, don’t usually end up meeting them when they’re some 40 years older than you. He turned out about as good as I think anyone could in those circumstances. I’m just glad I got to see any of it before... Didn’t know my parents. Not sure if Aiden really...counts.

What about a partner, or partners? Well, the terminology is a bit questionable, but...give you a hint - tall, constant shades, likes leather coats, and is currently glaring daggers into my head. Also insanely protective, insanely smart, and for some reason keeps putting up with me anyway.

Who are your enemies, and why? Brotherhood aren’t exactly fans of us. The whole “blowing up their airship” probably made a bad impression, and we wouldn’t really let them settle back in when they tried to come around again. If there’s anything left of the Railroad...well, they hated us from the start. Kind of started the whole organization based around hating us. It’s understandable.

Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them? Yeah, they’re not fans. Believe it or not I actually worked with them for a little while, straight out of the Vault. I’d had some experience with military, thought I might be able to get back in. Didn’t exactly work out. These days they stick to the south, keep their business to the DC area. We don’t mess with that operation, they don’t try to slink back up here.

What about the Enclave? Heard of them. Before my time, I guess. Heard they’ve been gone a while, didn’t come this far north anyway, so it didn’t effect much for me anyway.

How do you feel about super mutants? I’ve met one that hasn’t immediately tried to kill me, and he was a former scientist. We’ve lost a Courser to one of their bigger camps. Needless to say, I’m not a fan.

What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in? I mean there are probably quite a few I don’t...actually remember. Apparently I killed Kellogg with a damn pipe wrench. Apparently I...killed a Courser myself. Those were Aiden, though, so I don’t know if it really counts.

Have you ever fought a Deathclaw? A couple, which is way more than I would have liked. One straight out of the Vault, in Concord. One in the Glowing Sea. Needless to say I try to avoid them.

Do you like fighting? Me? No. I wouldn’t have killed Kellogg if he’d given me any other options, but...that wasn’t really the case, and Aiden’s much more into the fighting thing.

What’s your weapon of choice? I don’t really need them much anymore. More administrative work these days. Before I got down here, I mostly used this...pipe wrench. Had some nasty hooks. I had a pistol, too, but I’ve always been a lousy shot. These days my best weapon is the smoldering glower of the big guy back there.

How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?) A lot of dumb luck, honestly. I’m pretty quick, apparently stronger than I seem whenever Aiden takes over, but...I’ve had a lot of help making it this far.

Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them? They’re shitholes. I agreed to put our names down for Audrey and Shaun’s sake, and...well, saw how much good that did. Half the time they’re overrun by something nasty these days. I can’t really mind being underground, but Vaults...I don’t go in them if I can help it.

How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you? Guess I’ve gotten lucky there, too. There’s been plenty of Rad-Away treatments, and even better ones now. If anything had been affected, I guess Volker fixed it.

What’s your favorite wasteland critter? Least favorite? Guess radstags aren’t really that bad. Tend to leave you alone if you don’t get up in their multiple faces. I hate the bugs. Hate the bugs. Bastards were bad enough before, and now they’re the size of my head.

How do you feel about robots? Well. There’s a bit of a blurry line sometimes in regards to that word. Codsworth was a sweetheart, kept our house safe for however long it was. Met some asshole robots who wouldn’t stop grilling me about being a commie spy. Some people...still call the synths robots. Gets a little complicated there. But things vary there, too. But I’m definitely more attached to some than others.

How many caps do you have on you right now? Now? None. Not exactly any use for them down here. We keep a fund for when we deal with the surface -- it’s been hard to switch them over to any better form of currency with the rest of the country still so stubbornly on caps. I don’t know how much I’ve got saved away, but it’s enough to make negotiations pretty simple.

Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla? Plenty of Sarsaparilla out west, I kinda grew up on that stuff. Never had much of a preference between them -- they’re both just flat syrup water these days anyway.

Do you do chems? Officially? Not anymore. Unofficially...well, it’s been a while. It’s going better. But like I told the doctors, I was an addict before I set foot in the cryopod. Getting the chems cleared out is only part of it. Haven’t touched Psycho in a while. Hopefully it stays that way.

Do you ever think about the Pre-War world? Not much, honestly. I miss Audrey, and it’s easy to see the impact of everything back then, but...I found my son. He had his own life. Now I’ve got my own. Doesn’t do much good looking back.

What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently? I didn’t really...I wish the Railroad would’ve given up. Brotherhood, they were soldiers and fighters, and they at least stood a chance, but...the church was just a slaughter. I’m not proud of it.

What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve? I’d like to think the Commonwealth is doing better than before. Brotherhood hasn’t tried to come back, the raider attacks are getting fewer, and with the technology the Institute is finally actually sharing, people aren’t scraping by to survive quite as much. There are still biases and old grudges, but I like to think we’re working past those. And the SRB has taken a direction I’m pleased with. Not that there was any bias influencing that, of course.

What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world? I want to have more chances to take a breath. It’s better now than it was, by a long shot, but things are still...hectic. Get better, more open communication with the Minutemen, start to ease some of that mistrust, and show people that even the big boogeyman of the Commonwealth can change. It’s not like we’re going anywhere, and I’d like to think we can keep learning from each other.

[antiquechampagne]

Chapter 6

Payne kept to herself for nearly a week, rarely coming out of her room at hotel. She replaced her hunting rifle and an assault gas mask to replace to keep her safe during the day. It was ugly as sin and offered little in the way of actual armor, but it kept the sun off of her.  She was too ashamed to ask Daisy if she had any blood bags. She told herself she was keeping out of MacCready’s way, but really she just wanted to be alone. Payne wasn’t even sure if Hancock or Fahrenheit had told anyone about her, but she didn’t want to find out through awkward stares.

Boredom drove her from the confines of her rented room and down into the lobby. Walking down the stairs, she heard a snippet of a song drift from an ancient radio. Payne never paid much attention to what was on the air waves, given most seemed to be propaganda sprinkled with the same dozen songs, but the eerie jingle held her in rapt attention. Drawing her like a siren, she sat down close to the radio to listen. She couldn’t believe it, it was a prewar radio play!

The hotel manager, a grizzled white haired woman named Clair, noticed Payne’s fascination with exasperation. “Child, you’ve been here long enough to hear that pre-war drivel, haven’t you?”

Payne nodded to the contrary. “I haven’t heard anything like this in ages.” She couldn’t contain a small smile as she listened to the adventures of the titular character taking on the villain Fat Fahy with the heroine Mistress of Mystery.

“You look like a damn fool sitting there like a kid, just like Kent, I swear!” This was the second time Payne had heard that name.

“Who is Kent?” she forced herself away from the radio. It was harder than she had thought it should be.

“Kent? Kent Connolly runs that blasted station. He is nuttier than an irradiated Brahmin’s balls. If he’s not wasting all his time reliving that prewar super hero crap in a memory pod next door, he’s broadcasting those stupid stories. You gotta feel sorry for him, though. Irma had to put a timer on his pod to make sure the fool eats and sleeps. It’s a shame, he’s such a sweet guy… but addicted to his own past.”

Payne moved back to the couch near the radio, but a different kind of earworm had crept into her brain. The next day she found herself rummaging through her pack. In the bottom of her bag lay a small silver pin, rusted and discolored. You could still make out the silver band blazoned across the black fedora. She had taken off a settler she had found dead months ago. She wasn’t sure why it had captured her eye or why she had held on to the scrap for so long.

She made her way next door to Scollay Square. The marque loomed large like a grotesque maw, the red doors appearing almost mouth like. Like the jaws of hell Payne though. Shaking her head, she pushed past the entrance and emerged on the other side facing an empty ticket counter. Continuing on, the place opened up to what had been a theater. Where seats once sat stood two rows of transparent pods along the sides, some occupied and pulsing with bizarre lights. On the stage sat a crimson chaise lounge with a reclining aging woman decked out in matching feathers and lace.

“Oh, sorry honey, we aren’t taking any new clients at the moment.” She purred.

God, this is more like home than I thought. Payne approached the dais. “I’m not looking for your services. I am looking for Kent.”

“Whatever for?” Payne held up the pin. “Oh? I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Silver Shroud fan, sweetie.” She pointed to a closed door behind Payne. “He’s in his room, but please don’t vex him too much, hon. He’s been a bit…. sensitive… lately.”

Payne reassured her. “I will try my best to be brief.”

Upon entering Kent’s room, she was inundated with everything Silver Shroud including ancient cracked posters and imposing full size character cutouts. In the far corner sat a hunched figure in a threadbare hat and suit fiddling with a microphone.

A bit startled, Kent greeted Payne kindly. “Oh hi, I don’t know you.” His voice was kind and smooth, well, smooth for a ghoul.

“My name is Payne. You broadcast the Silver Shroud radio show, don’t you?”

Kent’s eyes lit up. “I sure do! I think it gives people a little bit of hope in this world that has gone to pot. Maybe a little escape from all the murder and mayhem, ya know?”

“I can tell you have a lot of passion for those old stories.”

“Oh yeah, they take ya right back… like remembering the first day of school and rushing home to listen to the conclusion of the cliff hanger for The Silver Shroud vs. The Grave Digger to see if the Mistress of Mystery was really dead or not! Oh man, everyone sat inside on a perfect cool summer afternoon just to hear that she had hidden herself in plain sight as the maid the whole time! What a hoot!”

His unbridled enthusiasm was infections and a warm smile spread across Payne’s face. “Well, I wanted to tell you that I am a new fan… and I wanted to show my appreciation.”

She handed the pin to Kent, who gingerly pick it out of her hand. His eye went wide and a wide smile of his own grew.

“Oh, my gosh! Miss! Do you know what this is?” He turn the tiny trinket repeatedly in his hand excitedly. “Where did you find this? How could it even survive this long?” Payne could feel the joy practically radiating off him.

“This…” He held the pin a loft like a lost holy relic. “This is a rare collectable lapel pin created by Galaxy News Radio to commemorate the 300th episode. You had to collect 20 Sugar Bomb cereal box tops and send way for it… but it was random which pin you received back.” Kent went to his dresser and pulled out a box from the drawer, his shoulders still hunched. “There were 25 pins to collect, which include The Unstoppables too because of the Christmas crossover episode! I have 11… now 12 of them! Thank you so much, Miss!” His fingers lovingly glided over each pin as he placed his newest prize into the next empty slot.

“Just call me Payne. I am glad I found one you didn’t already have!” she ribbed him gently. She found his child like enthusiasm endearing, but understood why the hotel manager was concerned about him. His clothes were dirty, his frame thin, even for a ghoul. He shuffled slowly as he walked.

“Would you mind if I visited you again in a few days? I would love to hear more about the Silver Shroud, I really don’t know much about it.”

“You’ve never heard of the Silver Shroud! Oh howdy, you are in for a real treat!”

They thanked each other and made plans for another visit. Payne wandered back to her room and sat down on the edge of the bed. It took a moment of searching her memories to place where her sudden melancholy from her delightful visit. Talking to Kent was like talking to her older brother over old Grognak comic books when they were kids… something they loved to do to pass the time together. She thought of her long dead brother, laid down hugging a pillow and silently cried herself to sleep.

[gold-and-rubies]

In It For The Long Haul - Chapter 16

Pickman’s Gallery. Mac POV.

MacCready paused as he opened his bedroom door. He heard a low, smooth, feminine voice singing along with Nat King Cole’s. It was separate from the radio, and he had the song enough times to know it was not a duet.

Part of him wondered if he was still dreaming. The only singer he knew who was this good was Magnolia, but it did not sound like her. There would be no reason for her to be there anyway.

He wandered into the main room where Flynn was sitting on the couch, cleaning her shotgun, and singing to herself. He stood there for a moment just listening and watching her. She never looked this peaceful when she was not asleep, and even then he could tell she was plagued by bad dreams.

It did not surprise him that she was a good singer, he had heard the control she had over her voice when she spoke. He just wondered why he had never heard her sing.

She sighed and shook her head as “Uranium Fever” replaced “Orange Colored Sky.” She had never seemed fond over that song.

“Mornin’,” he said.

She looked up from her work, “Hey. I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

He was taken aback slightly. She was acting like he had not seen a completely different side of her.

“Nah, you’re good. I, uh, I didn’t know you could sing.”

She looked away from him to somewhere straight ahead of her. She straightened a bit, and frowned with furrowed brows. She looked like she was lost in thought.

“I guess it’s been awhile since I felt like it…” her voice trailed off.

It was his turn to frown. He had no idea what she was talking about, or what was going through her head. Part of him wondered if he had somehow said something wrong. If he was not supposed to hear her.

She shook her head, “Uh, anyway, Sturges came up with a list of stuff he needs for upgrades, and repairs. Nothing has come in over the radios, so while we could scavenge, we could also just find a vendor.”

He nodded, “Best bets will probably be the major settlements. Diamond City, Goodneighbor, and Bunker Hill. Course it’s up to you where we go.”

“They made a settlement around Bunker Hill? Actually that makes sense. Almost every major pre-war place is.”

“It’s less of a settlement, and more of a caravan hub. A few people live there of course, and they’ve got a bar and inn, but mostly it’s just a place for traveling merchants to sell their stuff directly to you, unlike Diamond City and they’re hell of a lot more accepting of ghouls far as I know,” he explained.

“Let’s head to Diamond City first. It’s easier to get there, and the less fights we get in the better.”

“Sounds good to me. Just let me eat something first.”

“Of course. We’ve got brahmin jerky and bread in one of the cabinets. You could run over to that root cellar if you want something else.”

“Yeah, I’ll probably go get some butter. Don’t feel like having dry bread,” he said walking to the front door, “I’ll be back.”

He grabbed his duster off of the coat rack they had recently acquired, and pulled it on. He stepped into the cold winter air. A layer of snow covered everything. It snowed in the Capital Wasteland, but it was a lot worse in the Commonwealth. It had certainly helped that he spent most of those winters in a cave surrounded by other people.

He walked to the back of the house Garvey and Sturges had claimed. There was a root cellar there. From what he had heard, the person who had lived there before the war had made it in an attempt to survive the bombs. No one knew what had become of them, but it’s use was clear. Shortly after arriving, they had changed it to a place to store perishables.

He wondered if they would dig more root cellars as Sanctuary’s population grew. It made sense to have one communal one at its current size, especially since he, Flynn, and Garvey were not guaranteed to be there, but it would not last forever.

He threw open the doors, and climbed down the ladder inside. As he hopped off he noticed Flynn’s brother, Andrew.

He turned to look at MacCready as his feet hit the ground. He felt uncomfortable as Andrew regarded him, like he was looking right through him.

“Hey, you’re MacCready, right? We didn’t really get to have a proper introduction yesterday,” Andrew said.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t want to intrude on you two,” he stammered. He cursed himself mentally. He did not understand why he was so nervous. Normally he did not care what someone thought about him.

“Thanks for that, by the way. We had a lot to catch up on, or she had a lot to catch up on.”

“Of course. Figured there would be a lot to talk about.”

Andrew nodded, “Thanks for watching out for her. I know it’s your job to watch her physically, but I don’t think it’s your job to keep her sane. She’s tough, but she needs someone to watch out for her.”

MacCready scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “Just trying to be a good friend.”

Andrew grabbed a carrot that sat on one of the shelves, “Well, it was nice to meet you.”

“Yeah.”

Once Andrew was up and out of the cellar, MacCready let out a loud exhale. It was good to know that he seemed to like him, but he was a bit irked that he cared so much about his opinion of him.

He shook his head, and grabbed the butter he came for.

***

MacCready heard Flynn let out a sigh of relief as he slammed the door to Goodneighbor behind them. Super Mutants had made their home around the corner again.

They had managed to pick up a few things from Diamond City, but nowhere near all the things on the list.

“Damn mutants…” he muttered.

“Where the hell do they all keep coming from?” she asked.

He had no idea. He doubted they just came up from the Capital Wasteland. Especially since that one lady he had let into Little Lamplight had seemingly cleaned up Vault 87.

“Mutants move back in?” rasped a familiar voice.

MacCready turned to see Hancock leaning against the low stone wall that separated the entrance form the shops and the rest of Goodneighbor.

“Hancock! How’s the coolest ghoul in the Commonwealth?” MacCready explained.

“Doin’ alright, MacCready. General,” he nodded at Flynn.

“Mayor Hancock,” she nodded back.

“You know, you two came by at just the right time. That is, if you don’t mind helping our little community.”

“What needs to be done?” she asked.

“I have reconnaissance needs. There’s a lot of weird talk coming in about a place called the Pickman Gallery. It’s raider territory up there, but they’ve been quiet. Like, uncomfortable post-coitus quiet?”

“It’s near here, right?”

“Yeah, it’s near where the river turns into the harbor.”

Her brows furrowed slightly, “As far as I know it isn’t Minutemen doing. Far as I know, other than Goodneighbor, there aren’t any settlements close enough to warrant a clear out, and I feel like I would know if you called on us.”

“That’s what I figured. I need you to snoop it out, and give me the word. If somethin’s wiping out raiders like that it’s either really good or really bad.”

“We’ll take care of it, don’t worry.”

“Cool. Be thorough, okay? I’m not paying for a look-see. Find out what’s really going on,” He gave them a final nod, and turned to walk towards the Old State House.

“Damn shame he’s not paying us to take out the super mutants too,” MacCready joked.

“No kidding” she sighed as he opened the door.

***

“Wonder what’s going on here for them to be so angry,” Flynn said as she searched a raider they had taken down.

“We’re about to find out. Whatever it is must be pretty bad. This isn’t normal raider behavior,” he replied. The raiders had of course shot them on sight, but there had been a slight hesitation Instead of making a break for it or making sure they died, they had been centered around the door yelling at whoever Pickman was.

“Yeah, but they do seem pretty pissed. They’re probably pretty hopped up on adrenaline along with chems, so let’s try stealth.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He took a step away from the door, so he could follow her in. It was easier for him to aim over her shoulder than it was for her to aim over his. They dropped to a crouch. She grabbed the door handle, and slowly pushed the door open.

The first thing that he noticed was the smell. It smelled like death, and that was no exaggeration. The stench was so bad he was forced to breathe through his mouth. He could taste the air, and tried not to gag.

She turned to look at him, a look of disgust clear on her face. She took a deep breath, which she seemed to immediately regret, and pushed forwards into the house.

They entered a long hallway with stairs on the right hand side. A group of raiders stood at the end of the hall.

“You think we’re going to catch that Pickman psycho?” one asked.

“The slippery bastard got away before,” another answered, “But Slab won’t leave a man breathing after he’s hunted our crew.”

“I heard Pickman skinned Roy alive after he snatched him, let the rats get at him. Gives me the creeps just thinking about it.”

They had figured Pickman had been killing them, but if the raiders’ rumors were right, that would explain why they were so angry.

Flynn reached behind her, and tapped his knee. He looked down at her hand to see her motioning to the doors to their right. He followed her as they sneaked into the room. He wondered how the doors opened so quietly.

That thought died as soon as it had appeared. The room was filled with gore, but it was organized gore. A pile of flesh and furniture sat in the middle of the room. Heads on stakes poked out of the mess. Terrifying paintings hung on the walls. The shades of red were too close to the color of blood for his liking. If these were all raiders he did not blame them for acting out.

“Thanks for the nightmare fuel,” he managed to whisper.

Despite everything his body was screaming at him, he followed Flynn into the room. They circled around the mess in the center to find a clothed and intact body. She felt through his pockets, and pulled out a note. She scanned it, folded it, and pocketed it.

She looked up at him, or at least it looked like she was looking at him. It looked more like she was looking through him. He could see how much the place was messing with her. He had seen some deeply depraved stuff, but even this was out of his league.

“Boss,” he whispered, touching her left arm gently, “let’s let the raiders sort this out.”

She gave no response.

“Boss,” he nudged her this time, “let’s get out of here.”

He felt a pang of relief when she gave a small nod. He was starting to worry she had gone into shock.

He led the way out. Once they were out of the building, and he had closed the doors, she made a beeline to the river. She threw up once she got there. He winced, but did not blame her. He had no idea how he was not joining her.

She stood shaking at the water for a few moments. He wanted to make her feel a bit better, but he had no idea what to say. He had a good feeling the raiders were going to take care of the bastard, but he doubted death was not going to be a comforting idea.

“You doing alright?” was all he could think to say.

She coughed, “Yeah, yeah, I will be. I mean I never saw any of the crime scenes, but serial killers like this existed before the war. Sadly, shit like this isn’t new. Let’s just get out of here.”

“No arguments here, Boss.”

They weaved their way through the buildings back to Goodneighbor. Neither said a word. Neither was in the mood for banter. He was just thankful nothing got in their way.

As she opened the door to Goodneighbor for the second time that day, she said, “I’ll go talk to Hancock. Why don’t you get us a place for tonight? I’ll pay you back later.”

He watched her walk up to the door of the Old State House. Despite what they just dealt with she walked confidently to the door. She was so different from the girl he had met in the Third Rail over two months prior. He felt a little proud of her in all honesty.

He headed over the Hotel Rexford. He paid extra attention to the world around him in an effort to push the hell hole out of his head. The only thing he noticed was a man in sunglasses who was acting like he was not staring at him. MacCready frowned, but that was not anything out of the ordinary. Chems could do weird things to a person.

He rented a room for the two of them, and waited in the dusty lobby. He pulled out one of the issues of Grognack the Barbarian he had read the most, so he could keep himself occupied but still pay attention. Goodneighbor be safer than roaming the wastes, but it still was nothing compared to Diamond City or even Sanctuary.

Teaching himself to read was one of the best ideas he had ever had. He struggled a bit, but it was more than others could do.

He got through a few pages before Flynn showed up. She had taken a bit longer than he had anticipated, but he just assumed she had gotten the shopping done.

He waved her over to him, and led her to the room. It was the one they had stayed in after the ordeal with Kellogg. He hoped she did not notice.

She dropped her bag on the left bed, and dug around until she pulled out a leather bag.

“Here,” she tossed the bag to him, “your cut plus the room fee.”

“Thanks,” he ran his thumb over the bag, “You wanna-”

“Talk about it?” she cut him off while she took her armor off, “No. I’d rather talk about literally anything else.”

“What about the rest of your conversation with Hancock? You were gone longer than I thought it would be?” he took off his own armor.

“What? Did you miss me, Mac?” she teased.

“No, and don’t call me that. I was just curious,” he replied. He sat on the edge of the bed. He grabbed his rifle cleaning kit, and laid his gun across his lap.

“When are you going to stop calling me ‘boss’? I feel like it’s safe to say that we’re friends at this point.”

“Yeah.”

“So stop calling me boss.”

He looked up at her. She was smiling at him, her eyebrows raised a bit. He could see a bit of pain in her eyes, but it was genuine.

He sighed in defeat, “Fine. Flynn.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was not annoyed, “Not what I meant, but it’s a step in the right direction. What am I going to call you now?”

“Uh, MacCready?”

“I called you Mac not just because it annoyed you, but because it was shorter. MacCready is too long.”

“Too long?”

“Mhm.”

She was not wrong. There had been a few times when shouting his actual name would have wasted precious seconds.

“Fine. You can call me R.J.” he said. It had been a long time since someone had called him that, but if he was going to let anyone call him that it would be her.

“R.J.?”

He looked up at her again. This time she looked confused. Then it hit him. He had never told her his full name. It made sense there were several people who only had one name.

“Stands for Robert Joseph. My, uh, full name is Robert Joseph MacCready.”

She nodded thoughtfully, “Nice to know you don’t have a weird name.”

“Thanks for not thinking it’s weird.”

She made a “tch” noise, and her smile deepened. He turned his head back to his rifle to keep from staring at her. There was something great about her when she smiled.

They went about their nightly routines in a comfortable silence. It was hard to tell they had witnessed something horrible. MacCready was a bit proud of himself for it.