How about..." Travis held a stack of holotapes in his hand, cycling them through as he read the names off the top. "Eh..." The plastic on plastic tapping could be heard over the airwaves as he passed on such titles and songs like Ritchie Valens singing 'Donna', 'Magic Mountain' sung by Vernon Green & the Medallions, 'Hypnotized' by Linda Jones, and Brenda Jones and the Tabulations singing 'The Touch of You', finally settling on, "Okay, how about...some...of The Vanguards? Somebody Please."

"Somebody please."

October 28th, 2287

5:35 A.M.

Nate managed to wake up before Meathead the next morning, walking all the way back down to the ground floor lobby he stopped to heave every single Gunner's body and skeleton down over the ledge he found along the way. Dragging them into a pile outside, he doused them with industrial grade solvent and lit them on fire.

It wasn't until almost an hour later, Meathead woke up and flew down to find Nate working on the elevator control panel on the bottom floor, listening to Diamond City Radio on his Pip-Boy.

Nate found a screwdriver and a rubber mallet and pried off the security card I.D. reader for the central shaft elevator that leads all the way up to the executive offices at the top. Around him was magnetic strips, his credit card, and wire strippers, a small red toolbox along with the security panels.

"<How are you not hungover?>" Meathead pleaded any small metallic pinging noise was like a hammer against his skull.

"Meathead, I'm still drunk...and...if I timed it right, I should be able to make it back to the bar before the hangover starts kicking in to ween myself off this drunk...and keep a whole..." Nate's eyes glazed over as he nearly fell asleep talking to Meathead, but his head bobbed up again. Drawing in a large breath that expanded his lungs, Nate finished with. "Keep an all day buzz...that way I won't get a hangover."

Meathead sat there, flabbergast by Nate's drinking and how he figured out this in his head. <You're still interested in going to the top?>" Meathead asked Nate, nodded.

"Yep. Then, afterward, we tell Hancock, or second bet, the raiders at the Mall to get their asses over here and set up shop."

"<Do you really think that's the best way to make Boston safer, by giving these raiders access to all this?>"

"I'm not being picky, Meathead, and we can't afford to pick and choose our enemies. If they're not shooting at us, I really don't care who they are. Things on my list of preferences also include, not fucking us over, but we'll have to see how that plays out."

"<Isn't that extremely predatory? It's not like society can't rebuild itself.>"

"Yeah, well, Meathead, a few buildings are going to have to come down during that whole rebuilding process. Including this one. Sure it can withstand the force of a nuclear blast, but eventually, even this giant place is going to rust itself inside out." Nate explained.

Nate picked up his credit card, and the magnetic strips and swiped them through the I.D. reader. The green and red lights flashed and then stayed solid red.

Meathead looked up to the ceiling, then back down to Nate.

"<I found this on my way down>," Meathead said, making Nate turn around to see the little present. "<It's essential to give your arguments impact.>" The little Vault-Tec. Bobblehead had both arms raised and elbows bent up, with the biceps bulging and flexing. It represented strength.

Nate looked at the bobblehead and set it down, smirking once and then setting it down next to the rest of the tools.

"Yep..."

Nate set his tools down. "Meathead. The last time I went to the bank, we had $339,700 in our bank accounts. That was two hundred ten years ago. I can't remember if it's closer to seven hundred or eight hundred, but, I'll just say seven hundred."

"<Okay>."

"And the interest rate was 2.25%. Not the best, but we would've needed to spend a lot more every year to get the flat 3% interest."

"<Uh-huh>," Meathead said, following along.

"Three hundred, thirty-nine thousand, seven hundred dollars, multiplied by 1.0225, raised to the power of 210 years...I needed to use a calculator to figure that one out."

"<Sounds like a lot>."

"How does 36 million, 340 thousand, 546 dollars sound?"

Meathead exhaled and smiled, "<Sounds like a ton of money.>" He said, nodding his head.

"Yep. Now only if we could find an ATM. We'd have all the worthless paper we could ever want." Nate laughed a shallow laugh, swiping his credit card through the I.D. reader again, he jury-rigged the wires to send an electrical pulse through the lines regardless of what card was being sent through. The green and red lights flashed, then stayed solid green and the lift kicked into action.

"All right. Now, do you want to see the sunrise from the tallest building in Boston?" Nate asked.

\111/

They rode the elevator all the way to the top floor and were assaulted by howling wind rushing through the top floor and roof. The executive offices housed a mini-reactor inside a two-story area, with two sets of staircases. One was partially demolished, having collapsed onto the floor with only the supports where the stairs sat remained. The other was in front of a giant gaping hole in the side of the building, along with another hole in the north face of the building on the second floor.

Walking outside, the wind was doing the most damage, plenty of panels were ripped off and blown away over time, but Nate walked out onto the balcony overlooking all of Boston and sighed.

The sky was brightening by the moment, already blue, and the sun was casting an early morning glow from the east across the ocean.

He first looked to the Southwest and felt melancholy. He was looking directly at the sight of ground zero. Meathead came to his side, putting his hooves on the railing and looking over. There were dark grey storm clouds crackling with lightning blowing up from the south, spreading radiation and acid rain across the Commonwealth. The large broadcasting tower far to the south, past Shaw High School and the Milton General Hospital, was barely visible against the grey clouds rolling in from the south.

The Boston Common was down below them, Park Street station, and all the main roads leading west through Boston. Down below them was the golden dome of the Massachusetts State House, as opposed to the Old Statehouse to the south of the Mass Fusion building.

He took another look at the waterfront along the Charles River, looking at the bridges from a new angle, and seeing all of Cambridge. Of course, he looked past the CIT building and farther, past the ruins of Harvard to the northwest, where Concord was. He could see the tiny buildings and the white rocks of Dunwich Borer's rock mine.

There was a lot of smoke or steam coming out of the bowl of Fenway Park, along with the outfield. Nate's heart went out to the old baseball stadium, he'd seen a few posters around Boston that read 'Baseball, the Religion of Boston for 176 Years'.

"Damn," Meathead picked up on how Nate said the word. It wasn't out of anger, it was like he just realized he'd forgotten something. "Wish I'd brought a parachute." He added.

"<You want to go base jumping?>"

"Perfect spot for it. Heck, we could charge people, Meathead. Just aim for the Boston Common and remember to pull the ripcord." Nate said, waving his hand down towards the park in the middle of Boston.

"<Didn't they say there's a giant super mutant living in the park?>"

"Well. It's not there now." Nate said, peering down at the walking paths leading around the veranda and pond.

"<How far can a Fat Man launch?>"

"From here? It could reach the Common easily. We'd have at least a mile range, even with the drop-off."

Nate wandered to the north side. "That's Ticonderoga square right?" Pointing to the second tallest building in Cambridge, seven blocks to the right of the Greentech Genetics building, to the north of them, Meathead nodded.

"<That's the place.>"

They circled the balcony, looking down on the USS Constitution to the east of them, and then Nate went south one more time. "What do you see?"

"<Trinity Tower...Ugh,>" Meathead shuddered. "<It's like...it's like...black obsidian...but that's not right...It's like taking black obsidian, that is supposed to dissolve and cast away negative energies, then throw it in a microwave. All that nuclear radiation fucked up your rock's energies in a bad way...>"

"A rock in a microwave?" Nate asked.

"<Yeah. There's a reason why your microwaves were lead boxes, obsidian is a crystal...if you're serious about demolishing buildings...Trinity Tower should be the first on your list.>"

"Why? I thought Obsidian was bad."

"<Forget everything you know about obsidian. Obsidian is a crystal, but on Equestria and on Earth, those people who say "Crystals have an effect on me," They were right all along. Crystals have noticeable effects on everything...but if you blast it with electromagnetic radiation like a microwave or damn nuclear waves, it messes with the damn crystal!>"

"So what's the problem with a crystal in the microwave?"

"Have you ever touched something that's been in a microwave for 15 minutes straight? I get a migraine just thinking about it. There's a whole world I need to tell you about, but you need to understand how a lot more things on Earth work before you start taking on->" Meathead pointed at Trinity Tower with his hoof, "<-Crap like that. So when I say Trinity Tower is like a piece of obsidian that's been sitting in a microwave for two hundred ten years, imagine a piece of steak that's been cooking and cooking and cooking for two centuries straight. The smell, that burning scent...you're imagining it right now. That burnt, charred out smell, like burning chemical fumes...It'll rot your brain.>"

"But the tower?" Nate asked.

"<Well, what do you think would happen if you were to inhale the burnt odors coming from a rock that you put in a microwave? What if that rock was mercury? Mercury gases and the human brain don't mix, everyone inside Trinity Tower are breathing in the chemicals.>"

Nate coughed, clearing his throat,

<Things like that need to be washed clean and purified. But destroying it would be a good start. Fenway Park is brimming with fluctuating emotions, anxiety is the most prevalent emotion coming from there. There's life coming from the old CIT building. There's a lot of people all over the place. Living...dead...angry...fearful...sad...raged...depressed...a few pockets of happiness...not too much though...not that I can feel...not like it was...the honor goes to you>."

"Aw..." Nate pandered, "Don't I feel special? Hey, Meathead...what did we do after leaving the bar?"

The sun was up over the eastern horizon, making Nate squint in the early morning rays being cast down on them.

"<Killed most of the Gunners in here with MacCready, hung the Captian, then MacCready left. What do you remember?>"

"Talking with him in the bar...singing...what the hell was I trying to say to him?"

"<You kept on talking about Liberty Prime and the Byrillium Agitator in False Pass.>"

"Right...Right...That was something...False Pass turned into a cluster fuck during winter...We were camped out on the island, deep in our little hidey-hole, smoking weed, a few bumps to keep us alert, Jet, psycho, Buffout, whatever to keep us awake. We were bored out of our skulls, and then...on Christmas Day...everyone was just wishing that it would be all peaceful, but we knew they would strike either way. We knew they were going to do some bullshit. We could feel it in the air. We knew they were going to attack on the holiday, so we spent Christmas aiming our rifles out of the gun ports and singing 'White Christmas', 'Wish you a Merry Little Christmas', 'It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas', David Copernate sung 'Dreidel' and fucking everyone busted up laughing. Then Roger Ghallen sang 'Jingle Bells', and I started up 'Baby, it's cold outside.'
And...ah...I remember looking out at the clouds and the fog that was rolling through the pass."

The morning wind was blowing strong against the tall tower, and Nate took a fresh breath of air.

"The wind was whipping through there so fast, it looked like the clouds were moving and alive. The wind was pelting the eastern shore. Freezing wind. Screaming through the pass cause it was moving so fast. That wind would've given you frostbite in a minute if you weren't prepared for that kind of weather...and..." Lost in the moment, Nate's eyes went out to the horizon.

"...And these Chinese soldiers were not prepared to camp on the beach for months, throwing themselves at Unimak, trying to get across."

Nate's teeth chattered just thinking about it. "They weren't singing Christmas songs over there..." Chattering harder, it was difficult for him to control his shaking jaw.

"You ever hear a man scream because he's so cold? That he's freezing to death and got black numb hands and frostbite up to his elbows?"

Meathead shook his head.

"Multiply that by half a million, and that was Christmas Day. 2076. It's like the sound got caught in the air, and the air froze, keeping that noise trapped there. You could feel the hatred in the air."

"<Sounds like there was more to it, that much hate...you would think it would attract the wrong kind of attention.>"

"We did more than that, Meathead. You ever hear of the myth of Wendigos? Cannibal spirits that are eternally hungry and freezing... Do you want to get off the top of this tower? It's freezing up here."

"<I believe you saw a lot of things the human mind wasn't able to process, but, why were you talking about the Byrillium Agitator?>"

"Oh right, after Liberty Prime was done in Anchorage, the U.S. Army did a victory lap around Alaska with Liberty Prime, and we could hear that thing for miles. We were told by intelligence that a Chinese operative was building a device that could hack Liberty Prime, and turn it against us. So we went in and raided the Eastern Shore, decimating a path to make it to their base where the weapon was held, and we took it. Heh...he hahaha. We took the damn thing and they fucking wanted to eat our guts out for that. Then here comes Liberty Prime, and-" Shaking his head and grinning, "Sa...He just kills them all. A few weeks later, I'm on a plane bound for Boston, then here we are."

"<That's what happened?>"

"I'll tell you the whole story someday, but right now, I think I need either a Bloody Mary or go someplace where it's dark cause I feel a hangover coming on."

"<Lead the way.>"

\111/

Going back down into Goodneighbor, Nate carried an excess of submachine guns from the dead Triggermen, selling those at Kill or Be Killed to an Assaultron droid named K-l-e-o. Kleo. The sleeker, more agile, more well-equipped design of the protectron could run and sprint after its enemies, using tasers contained within its claw-like hands, and was given a much better A.I. than the protections. Selling the guns and buying ammo, he went next door and finally met the store owner,

Daisy, of Daisy's Discounts. She was a ghoul, baked skin, and lacking a nose, her brown hair with the back half pulled into a bun seemed still attached to her head and not thinning. She wore a grey pants suit and a blue button-up, white shirt, a faded red tie, and was smiling as Nate walked through her door.

"Howdy there, stranger. A new face walks through my door and you're not even screaming yet. Very polite, let me know if anything catches your fancy."

"Nope...no screaming. Is that a normal occurrence around here?"

"That's right." She replied. "Some people never seen a ghoul before, can't handle a friendly face, I say."

"I noticed a few people walking around, some of the guards, Hancock, and I didn't want to be the obvious tourist pointing out everything he sees. Kinda figured that out. But. What exactly are ghouls?"

"Well, you're looking at one, sweetheart. Didn't have any shelter when the bombs fell. Radiation is the ultimate makeover." She leaned forward, tilting her head back while grinning, "It's done wonders for my skin. I look pretty good for 220 years old. Now, you buying anything?"

Nate looked around her shop,

"Well, Daisy, you hardly look a day over one-fifty." She smiled brightly, teeth still staying rooted in.

"It's more like 270." She said.

Daisy's Discounts was filled with a lot more various items scavengers would bring in from the ruins, she had plenty of guns, and a whole rack of liquids, from water to beer, liquor, and then a few stacks of Mentats. There were a few baskets of produce that still seemed good enough to eat, and then behind her was more ammo. To the side of her shop was bags of cement and fertilizer stacked up, next to clothes rack with hangers holding up shirts, pants, and a few bits of sturdy armor.

Nate grabbed two Mentats, and a box of water, and looked at the selection of meat wrapped up in butcher's parchment paper, and smelled them. Taking a few, he set them on the counter in front of Daisy and asked "Are you really 270 years old? That would've made you...sixty at the time the bombs fell?"

"Don't go blabbing that around to everyone, being a ghoul means you live for a long time. You stop counting birthdays."

She put her weight on her hands resting on the counter and leaned forward. "Do you know what it's like being this old?"

"Actually. I do. I just passed the two-fifty mark not too long ago. I spent my last real birthday at Fenway Park, watching the Red Sox play against the Chicago Cubs and they won 7-1." Daisy looked crossly at Nate, to see if he was bluffing. "My wife and I went to Agatha's kitchen for dinner, and then we went to the drive-in movies after that. We went and saw some action movie that was playing at the Starlight Drive-in, and would've probably stayed for the double feature, but we were tired and stuffed."

"Well, now you're just making fun of me. If you were as old as I was, you would've been around before the War."

"It's true, I was. Beautiful house in the suburbs bought a Mr. Handy unit to help with the yard and housework, white picket fence around the backyard, and we would drive up to Bar Harbor for Memorial Day and have a big family camping trip. Cousins, aunts, uncles, we'd all show up and unload our trailers and have three days of barbeque, go hiking, fishing, ride bikes around the trails, then head to the farmer's market-" "On Thursdays." They both said in unison. "It was peaceful." Nate found his eyes wet.

Daisy mirrored his expression, the memories of better days coming back to her as well. "It was...wasn't it?" She sniffed, inhaling, trying to recall the scent of green living trees, or fresh cut grass, the sound of robins in spring and the days she could walk down Park Avenue without carrying a gun and worrying about being taken out by a sniper round from an apartment building five blocks away.

"Sorry, the last thing you want to see is an old lady tearing up. Well, you're either the most well-preserved ghoul or the second-best bullshitter in Goodneighbor."

"Hey, if you are happy, or nostalgic, then let it shine. Too often we tell ourselves we don't deserve to be happy, or that we don't feel like we worked for it when in reality, we should feel happy all the time. Don't let others tell you what you can and can't feel. To err is to human, and to..." Nate trailed off, looking down at Meathead, wagging his tail slowly and begging Nate with big wide puppy dog eyes to go on. Meathead knew he caught Nate in a small dilemma, "...Feeling emotion is not alien. It's true though, what do you remember about the past? Or I should ask, what was it like living the last two hundred and ten years?"

Daisy snorted and laughed, "Ha! Sweetie, I was an angry young woman, who thought the world could go to hell many times over because I felt like I wasn't getting my due. Well...be careful what you wish for. The moment you say anything, it starts to manifest in ways you wouldn't believe."

Nate was nodding his head up and down, "Trust me, I believe you."

"When it all ended..." She looked off to the right and grimaced, a small tick in her face. "Well, I ended in a way. Becoming a Ghoul...Maybe when you get to be my age, everything starts looking like fate. Anyway, I like your story better, whether or not it's true. Will that be all for you?"

"Yep. That'll be it" Nate said, paying Daisy with handfuls of bottle caps.

"You know, if you haven't already, you should go check out the Hotel Rexford. There's another Pre-war ghoul hanging around there."

"All right, I'll poke my head in there sometime," Nate said, nodding his head. "Hey, you walk the routes to Fenway Park recently? Which route would you say? Storrow Drive, Commonwealth Avenue, Boylston?"

Daisy grinned out of the side of her mouth, "Right down Commonwealth. Straight shot and not too many people bug you on the way there. Still, take a rifle, especially going past Trinity Plaza."

"Will do. Anything else I should know about?"

"Well, if you're headed that way, I got a job for you if you're interested."

"Shoot."

"I gotta book back here from the Boston Public Library. I've got a lot of fond memories of that place when I was a girl...and human. Except, now," Daisy raised her hands up and balled her fingers closer together, but not completely shut and tensed her arms like she wanted to choke someone. "...Damned Super Mutants took the place over! I'll throw 300 caps your way, cause I like you if you drive 'em out."

"I have been meaning to ask someone about super mutants. Where the hell, and what the hell are they coming from?"

"They're big, green, and destroy anything they come across... except other super mutants. I don't know where they're coming from, but I do know they're only second to the Institute as neighbors." Nate raised his eyebrow and glanced down at Meathead. The dog gave a slight nod back. "Hope you take the job, you may not believe this, but I was a shy child. Books were my best friends growing up, to think that there are dumb brutes using them as kindling just makes me want to eat my heart out." Nate and Meathead both exhaled quickly through their nose.

"That reminds me, what the hell is up with the Glowing Ones?"

"OOOoohh...you seen those? Yeah. They don't give other ghouls like us too much trouble, but they are nasty sons and daughters to kill who've just been dancing in the radioactive rain for far too long."

Nate nodded. "Yeah. I hear that. Did you mean, like, they don't bother you?"

Daisy raised her hands and shrugged, "I get a free pass and walk right past 'em. Let me grab that book, I've got it in the back here." She turned around and went to the back end of her store, where there weren't any lights on. "For the Feral Ghouls, it's like we can turn them around and give them a shove and they'll keep on walking!" Scanning the shelf, she picked it out off the top rows of junk and came back with it in both hands. Hamlet.

"Don't ask how long it's been overdue, and if there are any old robots at the front desk asking about late fees, just slip it into the drop off box. I'm sure they won't mind."

"All right, Daisy, thank you. Have a wonderful day."

"Ha! You might just actually get my heart to start beating again if you keep it up. What's your name?"

"Nate, then my dog, Meathead."

"Have a great day, Nate. You too pooch."

Meathead barked, walking around the counter and licking Daisy on the hands. "Good boy." She said, combing Meathead's hair back with her hands, and wiping off some of the salivae on the top of his head. She gave it a scratch and smiled.

"All right, Meathead, let's go. No matter how much her hands may or may not taste like jerky." Nate teased Meathead.

Daisy snorted and her stomach shook with laughter. "Heh, heh...that's a good one. Have a great day."

\111/
The metal plate slid across the framed eye slot, and a pair of black ghoul's eyes met Nate's.

"Hey you, looking for work?" Bobbi No-Nose asked.

"Yes. What kind?" Nate replied.

"The good kind where if you don't mind a little manual labor, and don't ask too many questions, you're in."

"What kind of manual labor? The kind where I need to arm up? Or get down and dirty?"

"It's a project I've been working on, the big one. The kind of project where I could be in a lot of trouble if the wrong person found out."

"Well, it can't be too many people around here," Nate commented, thinking of the few power figures in the Commonwealth.

"A little discretion is called for here, I got a delicate house of cards here. Ya know?" Bobbi inquired.

"I'm in."

The bolt slid back apart from the door, and the metal hinges swung out.

"Good, come inside and I'll give you the lowdown." Seeing Bobbi No-Nose in the light, she was a ghoul with a brown bob hair-cut and yellowed eyes with still strong blue color to the iris. Her skin was red and blackened in some areas, but the long sleeve white shirt and black vest covered the rest of her body.

They walked down a flight of stairs into the basement of a Boston city building, where all the walls were lined with brick and light with floodlights.

"You are going to be doing some digging."

"What are we digging for?" Nate asked, eyes looking up towards the ceiling before settling on Bobbi.

"Just making a few holes in some walls, expanding the basement, so to speak. But seriously, lay off the questions."

"Just one."

"You've had two too many. Now get down there and to give the other two men a hand, would ya?"

\111/

Descending a second floor, they came to a concrete wall with a blue metal door, on the other side was a dirt tunnel leading further down into the sewers.
Finally, through a lit path of lights, Nate could hear the two tunnel workers talking.

"Hey!"

"What?"

"I'm the new guy, here to give you a hand!" Following the pipes down, Nate saw the two men holding explosive charges and pickaxes in their hands. They were wearing brown pants and button up shirts, but their faces were wet with sweat.

"We got the wall wired, 'bout to give it a blow and punch through. How 'bout you stand back and we'll light it off."

Retreating back down the passageway, Nate covered his ears, as the two workers detonated the one charge, and blew a six-foot hole into the next area over.

"All right, new guy! Help us clear the rubble." They told Nate, with heavily padded gloves, they picked up the larger chunks of rubble and heaved them out of the way. Smaller dirt they shoveled out, but they quickly cleared a stable hole in the wall.

The next area over was partial rock, with pipes cut straight through, leading further down to a brick and mortar section of old Boston sewers. Taking the rocks and heaving them off to the side, one worker stopped and pointed down. "Mirelurks!"

Unarmed, the two workers fled, leaving Nate with his rifle. Firing six times into the first mirelurk, Nate dug through his pockets for more bullets. Jamming them in one by one, a bullet nearly slipped through his fingers, but he pinched it by the back end. Firing in the small chamber, his ears ringing, but it was more deafening to the mirelurks. The second mirelurk stormed up on Nate, but being so close, the rifle round hitting the crab-mutant at such a short distance pierced right through the shell.

His ears rung, and teeth ached as the vibrations rattled his head.

Reaching for his pistol, Nate fired twelve times into the last mirelurk. There were blasts of gore flaking off the creature each time. Bits of organs, guts, bone, brains, everything was getting shot out. The creature shriveled up, tensing, then thrashing around on the ground, dying but, not yet dead. Its claws clipped at the air like fingers reaching out for a hand to hold onto as it faced their final breath.

But Nate was shaking, the veins on his forehead were bulging from the deafening noise of the gunfire, and the hammering of his heart.

His ears were still ringing when he walked back to talk to Bobbi. She was smoking a cigarette and frowning at the stirred up dust coming from the sewer.

"So, what the fuck was that? What is going on in my tunnel?" She asked.

"Mirelurks, there were mirelurks in the room they just opened up."

"Well. Lad dee da, at least you put up a better fight than those good for nothings, they ran off. Said fuck this job and bolted for the door."

"So, I get their share when this is over, sound fair?" Nate bartered.

"Sorry, I need the right kind of guy to speed things along now, and he'll want a fair cut." Bobbi pressed back, shaking the tip of her cigarette over an ashtray.

"Who are we looking for?" Nate asked, coughing out dust and cigarette smoke.

"A man in Diamond City, we'll leave this for now until we can find him. It's better if I just show you what you're dealing with."

"So you want me to go all the way to Diamond City and back for your guy?" Nate asked.

"Yes, but not so fast. I'll be in Diamond City here in a few days myself, and I'll be on the lookout for you there. We need to do a job here, but once we're done, Diamond City will be the next target. All this takes a little time and coordination. Any other questions?"

"Nope."

\111/

Nate and Meathead walked into the Old State House, it was right outside, hundreds of years ago, the Boston Massacre happened. Five colonists shot by the British troops sparked more outrage against the old owners of the United States.

It bugged Nate that he couldn't remember how or why the Boston Massacre took place. He knew it involved the British and colonists, but the facts eluded him.

Through the front door, there was an impressive spiral staircase leading up to the second floor and also going down to the ground floor below. Two Goodneighbor guards stood idly by, carrying submachine Thomson guns and giving the pair nary an eye.

Nate pointed up with his right hand and looked up at the floor above, and the guard nodded.

On the second floor, there was the scent of meat being grilled, all the windows were open in Hancock's office, along the back wall was a counter with food, and the Mayor ghoul was grilling steak, and cooking eggs.

In the center of the room were two couches facing each other, and a coffee table in the middle loaded with a whole galaxy of drugs piled on this table. Jet, seven bottles of alcohol, an ashtray filled with pre-rolls, and an overloaded ashtray next to that filled with ashes. The table was sticky and coated with nugs, lint, spilled alcohol, small bits of dust, and caked with dirt. There were small plastic baggies that smelled like ass, and half a dozen needles, there was a burning candle in the center of everything, with wax coming down the outside of the holder. There were two bags of grass, orange pellets, blue pellets, blue and white pills, pills with the letter K on them, pills with numbers on them, a notebook's worth of sheets with smiley faces on every single 1x1 cm square, a case of beer cans sitting on the floor, and a pint of raw ether with an American flag stuffed into the bottleneck to keep the fumes from escaping.

The floor creaking as Nate and Meathead entered the room was enough to let the mayor and his guard aware they entered the room. Meathead's paws and toenails clicking against the hardwood floor and panting only added onto the noise.

"What can I do for the newcomer?" Mayor Hancock asked, looking over his shoulder. Closing the lid to the grill, he turned around.

"Well, Mayor, it's not what you can do for me, it's what I can do for Goodneighbor."

Meathead's ears perked, and he sniffed at the air, looking back through the doors they entered, he slipped away without anyone giving the German Shepard a second glance as he left the room.

"How's that?"

"Have you ever seen a proper salute?" Nate asked Hancock, shook his head.

Nate locked his feet and toes together, standing upright, shoulders back, head up, chin down, spine straight, and eyes looking forward. Holding his shotgun by the barrel, he set in on the floor by his right pinkie toe, the butt of the gun on the ground, standing at attention.

"Port, arms," Nate said curtly, bringing the shotgun up and across his chest, grabbing the gun at the foreguard before the receiver of the barrel with his left, and switching his right hand from where it was flared up to grab the small of the stock, behind the trigger. It covered his left eye, and Mayor Hancock's expression showed he didn't know what to make of the display.

"Right, shoulder." Nate moved his right hand to grab the butt of the stock, then twist the gun so the top was facing Hancock, then he leaned the gun back with his left hand and kept his right arm tucked in, relaxing it upwards.

"Port, arms." Bringing his rifle back to the center of his chest, he flared his right hand down, then back up to grab the small of the stock.

"Left shoulder," He raised his left elbow up, moving his right hand up from the small of the stock to the receiver, and switched his left hand down to wrap underneath the stock of the gun. After that, he cut his right hand down so it was stiff by his side.

"Port, arms." Bringing the rifle back to center, Nate changed his hand positions again, then said, "present arms."

Twisting the gun so the bottom and sling was facing Hancock, his thumb was tucked in behind the shotgun's bolt "Order, arms." Grabbing the gun higher with his right hand, and guiding his gun down to the right with his left hand, he angled the barrel towards Hancock, with the trigger next to his kneecap. Finally, he flared his left hand back to his side as the butt striking the ground.

Hancock rubbed his chin, and Fahrenheit brought her right pointer finger to rub the right side of her face by the eyes.

"Interesting, never seen that one before."

Meathead barked three times and bounded back into the room, whining and whimpering, wagging his tail and bringing it to wrap around his rear.

"Shush, Meathead. Just a minute." Nate said to his dog. "Hancock, What's your plan for Goodneighbor in a year from now?"

"Same as always, keep the people safe and keep driving out the Institute."

"Do you really want to be dealing with the Institute for another year, or another five years?"

"Hell no, but we don't know where they're coming from. If I could, I'd blow a big fucking hole right in the middle of their operation, but the biggest question in the Commonwealth is where the hell these Institute fucks are coming from."

"Well, would you like to know?"

Hancock turned around, opened up the grill, sending a big plume of smoke into the air. He flipped the steaks and shut it again.

"Grab a seat, still making breakfast." He said.

Nate sat down, and Meathead sat directly in front of Nate, begging for his attention. Wide eyes and panting loudly, Nate couldn't tell if he was excited or worried...

"So, where they at?"

"I can't just say it, but, here." Nate took off his Pip-Boy, unfastening the latch. "I've got a map on here, and I can point out a few spots that I've narrowed down the location of the Institute to, and I'll point them out for you."

Nate turned the dials to show a GPS map on the Pip-Boy, Hancock looked at the little device with wonder, never using one before in his life. Nate pointed to a few little green markers on the map, "Here's Goodneighbor, Bunker Hill, Diamond City. I think they're here, here, here, or here. But my money is on this one here." Hancock nodded.

"Where can I get one of these?"

"There should be a whole stack of them back in my Vault if you're up for a trip."

"Where'd you come from? Vault 111? Never heard of it before."

"It's in Sanctuary Hills, a suburb north of Concord. If you don't mind me telling you a little bit about myself, the Institute raided Vault 111, kidnapped my son, and shot my wife, so I've got it in my mind to do something absolutely terrible to them in the whole 'treat people like you want to be treated'. Now I personally hate living by that rule, because it implies if some fuckwad, the Institute, does something to you, I'm supposed to just give them a hug in return. Fuck no. I'm no Machiavelli, but even he realized that treating everyone nice leads to the greater unseen evil coming around and dominating them. It's going to start with me finding the guy who showed his face to me. Taunted me. I'm going to kill him and make sure the Institute feels the strain of losing resources left and right. I will make sure they spend more money and people until the cost of war is too high. That's how I intend to win."

"You seem pretty convinced." Hancock said, "But, they're making synths every day, and-" Hancock snapped his fingers, "They appear just like that. I'm convinced the only reason Goodneighbor hasn't been under attack by synths in a long time is that there's nothing for them here they want. Of course, they'll want to try and get rid of me, but ain't no one in the Institute can make a prettier face than mine, especially not the smell! Fahrenheit! If I ever come back one day, smelling clean and with fresh minty breath, shoot me!" Fahrenheit nodded.

"So what's the story of Goodneighbor, Hancock? You seem like you got a great thing going here."

"So, big story. I came here about a decade ago. Had a set of smooth skin back then." Turning back to the grill, he took a cast iron skillet absolutely thick with grease, opened the lid to the grill and set it directly onto the grill racks and shut it again.

"While I was making myself a pillar of this community, I would go on these...wild tears...while I was young..." Hancock smiled, showing his top row of teeth and tilting his head back. "Any chems I could find, the more exotic, the better. Finally found this experimental radiation drug. Only one of its kind, and only one hit left. The high..." Hancock's head tilted forward and it all came rushing back to him, shaking his head as he brought his head upright. It was like some part of that drug crystalized in his system and finally dislodged, dissolving itself and releasing the endorphins.

"Worth it. Yeah, I'm living with the side effects, but hey, what's not to love about immortality?"

"The crushing loneliness of seeing everyone you know and love grow old and die around you?"

"Bummer," Fahrenheit commented.

"Nah, ghouls don't live forever. We just age really, really, slow. Must be something to do with rads, maybe? Who knows. Now, before my meat burns, got anything else for me?"

Hancock opened the lid, and grabbed four eggs off the counter, cracking them into the cast iron skillet and stirring them around with a metal spatula.

"Not to be the guy who goes around giving his life story to everyone, but the ship that crashed into the skyscraper was because of us."

"That was you? I always thought I hallucinated seeing that ship in the bank back there. Crazy fucking thing. How'd you get on board?"

"The robots on board scanned my face, and pulled up an old picture in their data banks that said 'Ping! United States Army. I walked right on board. Captain Ironsides, made me part of the Congressional Army. The sentry bot on top of the deck had us scrounge for some spare parts, and we got that thing flying in a heartbeat."

"Well shit. That was some noise you made. Thought the bombs were dropping again. Made every ghoul from here to the Glowing Sea roll over. So what, you want a gold star?"

"Sorry 'bout that. If you ever want on board, I'll give you the grand tour. I'm moving into the neighborhood and wanted to stop by and say hello. If you've got any work lined up though, I'm all ears."

"Oh, really?" He said, flipping the grill up one last time, he stabbed the steaks with a fork, and set them on plates, stirring the eggs around again, he picked up the pan with a rag and scrapped three portions out onto the plates. "So, you come here to say hello?" he said, giving one plate to Fahrenheit and sitting down next to her across from Nate. The last plate of eggs was left on the counter.

"Just trying to be neighborly. The first thing we did was clear out Faneuil Hall of the Super Mutants."

Hancock was slicing into his steak and looked up. "Okay. Just trying to be neighborly. Now that is something I like hearing, an end to the fucking super mutants."

"And last night, I vaguely remember doing something about the Gunners with MacCready in the Mass Fusion tower next door."

"And my guy said you took care of my rat problem too," Hancock said, cutting off a large piece of steak and chewing on it. "I like it when I don't have rats. Do you feel me? I like it when I ask for something, and it gets done." He swallowed the piece of steak, licking his lips and clearing his throat. "The people know what's up. It's all about the people, understand? They're freaks, misfits, and trouble makers, and that's why I love them. Everyone lives their own life, their own way. No judgments."

"I like people too, and I want to hear what you have to say about sending people to places I clear out and defending them. I know not every place is viable, not every place can be easily defended, and it seems like there's always another person out there who wants what we have."

Hancock slowly nodded his head and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "I say, fuck the Gunners, and fuck a lot of groups around the Commonwealth, but they say, fuck Goodneighbor right back. We don't got the guys to keep an operation like what you have in mind going. At best, less than a handful of guys to places you scrape clean of all the shit, but they'd be on their own if another group came through and wiped them all out. I like your plan, it's a good plan, but Goodneighbor isn't overloaded with neighborly people like yourself. We got men, and we gotta stronghold on this little slice of Boston Cream Pie, but if we start sending men out, that leaves the home turf up for grabs." Nate was nodding halfway through, expecting this sort of answer.

"I understand. Thank you, Hancock. How's your relationship with the raiders at Haymarket Mall?"

"What, did you kill all those guys out too?"

"Nope, just did the obvious thing when they put twelve guns to my head and didn't move a muscle. I got a pass for killing the super mutants in Faneuil Hall."

"Well now, that's a load off. You know more will come, right? I'd give it a week before they realize their buddies are all dead and try to reclaim it."

"Then that's all I need to know about super mutants. But, back to the raiders, hard no, or soft no on working alongside them?"

"I'd rather have my own men there, but I realize what you're doing. If the raiders at Haymarket want to try and hold Faneuil Hall, let them. But, I want some sort of confirmation that they won't try to take Goodneighbor. This ain't a raider hangout, but we get plenty of them coming through here drinking our beer and sleeping in our beds when they're down and out. Goodneighbor is neutral ground."

"I'll make sure the message gets out that this isn't some place for rats to live."

"I'm glad you understand. But, you said you were looking for work, there are two things burning on my mind...Oh wait, I left the grill on."

Fahrenheit jumped up and shut it off, "Thanks girl, anyway. Two things burning on my mind. One way is easier than the other. The first, we get a lot of weird talk coming in about a place called Pickman Galley, in the North End. It's all raider territory, but they've been quiet, and knowing that the Haymarket Heads are busy with Faneuil is just another thing we've got to consider. But, snoop it out, and give me the word. The second-dot dot dot- is Dah da dah!" Hancock rambled, trying to think of the words. "The Boston Common. Swan living in the pond is the biggest standing threat anyone trying to go from anywhere across Boston has to deal with."

"I heard a little chatter about Swan from the folks at Bunker Hill, I was looking for him while I was on top of the Mass Fusion tower this morning, but didn't see any giant lumbering around."

"He's in the pond. Check the pond, that's where we've seen him pop out of. But I ain't asking you to go clear him out, cause it's a death sentence and very suicidal to try and take on a super mutant behemoth. He's like a big guillotine hanging over everybody's heads for whoever passes the park. Especially on a noisy day. ESPECIALLY on a noisy day like yesterday. Holy Shit. Next time that thing flies, give us a warning."

"Will do. Say, Hancock, you ever seen the view from the top of the Mass Fusion tower?"

He shook his head.

"You ever launch a Fat Man from the top of Mass Fusion tower?" A grin broke out of the ghoul's face, lips stretched back and teeth clenched.

"Is that an invitation?"

Nate smiled, opening his hands upwards and shrugging sarcastically. "I've got a Fat Man at the top, and I'll meet you up there after you're finished with breakfast. Just take the central round elevator and it'll take you all the way up."

"Now that sound's like something I want to see. All right, hey- I never got your name."

"Nate. That's Meathead. Meathead, no begging." Meathead moved closer to Hancock, staring at the fat and gristle left on the plate and licking his lips.

"See you at the top, Nate. Heh," He laughed, picking up a piece of fat and tossing it to Meathead. "We all know the real reason why he came along." Hancock said, "Looks like he just wants some scraps."

Meathead chewed on the fat and wagged his tail, sniffing Hancock for more. "All right, come on Meathead, no more begging."

\111/