Piper's notes were thick and spanned everything that happened from the last seven days.

From the confirmed deaths of raider bosses, Jared and Tower Tom, to the consolidation of power under Red. Nate's interview was sprinkled with information about Quincy, Covenant, and the U.S.S. Constitution. His actions aiding in the destruction of a super mutant base at an old construction site followed by driving out two more super mutant hubs at Faneuil Hall and Atomatoys HQ, culminating with the return of Nick Valentine and the death of Triggerman Sonny AKA Skinny Malone along with multiple Triggermen in Vault 114. The kicker would be the public hanging of Kellogg Conrad, a known Institute Spy.

From the power struggles all about the wasteland with raider gangs, and the revelation of the Institute crows. Piper had enough stories to fill an entire Sunday paper, the only thing missing would be a sport's section and comic strips. Looking back through her notes and everything she wrote down the last seven days, it was a challenge to sort through it all, not knowing exactly where to begin, but she supposed, it started when a man and his dog came marching down the street singing an old song, sporting the biggest grin that couldn't deny the sheer boundless positive joy they were willing to share.

Reflecting on everything that happened made Piper quiet, knowing that the death of an Institute Spy and the Crow would be front-page news, but everything else was the lead up to that moment.

But of course, nothing would top the dead bird in a jar sitting on her desk, close enough for her to touch her pinkie finger to it. A synth crow, the realization made her feel exhilarated and that this tiny machine would reveal all the Institute's dirty secrets.

\111/

"What's your next step, Blue?" She asked as they left the perimeter of the Cambridge Police Station,

"<After dropping you off in Diamond City, there are some leads I need to follow through on. I'll check out the market, and then be heading towards Bunker Hill to tell Mayor Kessler a few things have changed in the Commonwealth. After that, I'm checking out a building in the North End on Hancock's behalf, if he's got that tight-knit of a community like Goodneighbor, I can only imagine he has everything we need to make a long trip into the Glowing Sea. He's got to have the connections, especially since he pulled out a Colt .308 for Nate, I can only imagine what else he has stored for later use.>"

"Hancock's a good friend to have." Piper said, keeping pace with Nate. Meathead, she reminded herself. "He's not the prettiest face in the Commonwealth, but he knows a lot of people. What about the Brotherhood? What are you going to do about them?"

"<After I finish roaming around Boston for a bit, I'll head north and root around the National Guard Center, but I'll eventually meet up with Nate again. He'll know what to do about Trinity Tower, and come to the best plan of attack.>"

"Do you have a way of communicating with him?"

"<Not directly, but I can track him down in a flash. He's easy to feel out. I figured he'll show his face around Diamond City here in a few days. Since we've been traveling together for a while now, I'm confident if you ever need our help, I could easily find you.>"

"I'm not sure if I should be glad, or put off that you can track me down," Piper replied.

"<If you're ever emotionally distressed, or in trouble, I'll know, so take that however you want.>"

"Tell me when you're heading to the U.S.S. Constitution, I've been waiting to meet this pegasus of yours."

"<I can tell you from here she's resting comfortably, she used to be all nightmares and fear, but it's taken a while for her emotions to change, I believe she's recovering now. When she comes out, she won't even recognize herself.>"

"What's happening to her?"

"<Eh...Hard to explain, I'll show you when we're there. After I find the power armor and radiation suit, I'll keep them stored at the ship, you can come on up anytime after you see Nate again. I'll have tracked down at least the whereabouts of one of those items by then.>"

"Aren't either of you worried that people might mistake you for being in two places at once?"

"<I know where he is, and he knows I'm constantly moving, it won't take much convincing that we're the same. As long as I'm not Nate while he's around, then it won't be a problem.>"

"When someone calls you a synth, don't say I didn't warn you."

\111/

From home plate in Diamond City, Meathead could feel the history of all the people who stood there. Looking up, imagining a fly ball going off to the right field, his eyes settled on the Colonial Taphouse in the upper stands. But, up above his head was the ruffling and flapping of feathers. All at once, twenty birds all took off from the wires strung between buildings up into the air.

Meathead clenched his jaw, there was at least one Synthetic Crow among the bunch, but after they landed again, spotting the fake amongst the real ones was like seeing a purple dot on the green sky.

Swallowing, as their cawing made Meathead wish for the sounds of doves, pigeons, or quails cooing, rather than a murder of crows hanging above his head.

There were dozens in Diamond City, synth crows that is, tucked and nestled in among other crows. As Meathead sensed upwards, it was like looking at a string of lights and seeing burnt-out bulbs. Each one glaringly obvious to the changeling now that he knew where to look, and where his and the Institute's blindspots were. It comforted him that now that he knew he was being watched.

Meathead's mouth quenched for a beer.

The first stop he went to was Diamond City Surplus run by Crazy Myrna. "<Afternoon.>"

"Hello." Myrna, replied, she spotted him the moment Meathead came to Diamond City Market. Recalling everything she knew about this man, she watched his footsteps, his gait, the way he walked, and then thought about his absent canine companion. "Anything I can help you with, today?"

"<Did I already ask you about radiation suits?>"

"Yes, I still don't have any. How'd you forget? Are you a synth?" She asked straight-faced. They were legitimate questions, and she refused to carry on until bartering until Nate answered.

"<Still not a synth. Do you want to keep asking me, or do you want to make money?>" Meathead bought and sold a few things he picked up along the way to Diamond City.

Checking the other stores, there was no radiation suit to be found in Diamond City, at least, not one in good enough condition or willing to be sold. There was one in Fallon's Basement, but the visor was cracked, and there wasn't any suitable replacement. The seems were rubbed too, meaning it was worn out and could potentially rip.

This was an expected problem Nate touched on a few times, but this was keeping them from their goal. Running a hand across his face and shaking his head, his mind went through all the locations of a well maintained, if not preserved, radiation suit.

His right hand went up and out, flourishing to the sky, "Refinery." He said. "Disposal site." Inhaling sharply through his nose, "National Guard. Armory...The electric company..." all possible sites he thought of in his mind that could contain a radiation suit. Bumping up the National Guard as a possible location to scout out sooner than later, he ran out of places to search in Diamond City.

With nowhere else to go but up, he took one look at the Colonial Taphouse, and decided to wind his way up there.

It'd been a long time since the last time he was here.

For Nate's father's 60th birthday here at the stadium, they came up to the bar sometime after the third inning and drank the rest of the game. The sign remained the same after all these years, except for the faded paint and weathered look.

\111/

This time was quiet, the thousands of fans filling the stadium and generating all the background noise was gone. The organist was gone, the radio announcers weren't broadcasting, and the music that used to come out of every speaker wasn't there. When he pressed open the door, he absently wondered if the bar was completely deserted until the people on the inside moved. There were five people inside, the bartender, a blonde woman at the bar, and a man leaning in on the counter, trying to get the female's attention. Two more people were sitting off to the side at their table, smoking cigars.

"Come on, Darcy. Let's go."

The bartender frowned at the man, "I don't think she wants to leave just yet. Paul, take it easy."

The door took time to close, squeaking and squealing the whole time it took to shut as Nate walked in.

The man snapped back at the bartender, "This is between me and my wife! Why don't you mind your own business for once?" Leaning his elbow on the counter, trying to break the eye-sight of Darcy and Henry Cooke, he pleaded into her eyes.

"God, Paul, why do you always need to make a scene?" Darcy said dismissively, spinning her stool so her legs were pointed away from him. "Pour me another drink, Henry." Henry wiped off the counter, looking at Darcy, Paul, then to the drink well of bottles by his knees.

"Damnit, Darcy, I just want you to come home!" He pleaded.

As Meathead crossed the threshold, he wondered if this bar was worth going into. It wouldn't be the first time walking into a seedy bar, but the stale air and teensy flies hanging in the air were offensive. To get closer to order a beer while overhearing the conversation, his mind made the disconnect from his time drinking at Fenway Park, and the squalor that took hold of Diamond City. The flies were buzzing near glasses, empty tables held leftover glasses that were rimmed with dried alcohol.

There wasn't any food being served, but there were scraps of other people's meals left on the tables, sitting there collecting ants.

"I'll be home later, Paul," Darcy said, Henry set another shot glass on the counter then poured Darcy another drink. After he set the bottle down, he came around the end of the bar.

"You better get out of here, before you do something stupid, Paul," Henry said, taking steps towards Paul, fists raised defensively.

"You son of a bitch!" Paul yelled back, taking two steps forward and getting kicked in the shins. Henry punched Paul in the face, and quick-shot jabbed Paul in the arms. Paul lashed out, striking Henry in the balls, then shoved him to the ground. Stumbling, Henry came back and swung twice at Paul, knocking him over, spewing droplets of blood as his head slammed into the floor.

"Go home, Paul," Henry said, standing over him.

Paul coughed twice, looking up to Darcy, who didn't even turn around. Climbing up to his hands, Paul said, "I'll be home, Darcy. Taking care of our son." It was a struggle to reach his feet, but Meathead offered a hand, and he took it. Being pulled to his feet, Paul tried looking at Meathead, but he was too ashamed to get a good look, so he covered his face with his arm. Pushing out through the door, Paul left.

After another second of silence, everyone seemed to remain frozen in silence until the door clicked close, then Henry spoke to Meathead.

"Sorry you had to see that, it's usually a lot quieter around here. It's a perfect place to drink if you're buying."

"<Yes. Beer please.>" Walking back behind the bar, Henry nodded.

"We can do that." He said, reaching down into a cooler and extracting a beer for Meathead. Stacking a small tower of eight bottle caps on the counter, Meathead paid for the beer.

Henry opened the top and set it in front of Meathead. He took a drink and sighed. Taking another drink, he asked, "<So what was he on about?>"

Henry inhaled, and Darcy rolled her eyes away.

"You see, Darcy here likes to relax from time to time, and her husband Paul doesn't."

Darcy shook her head.

"But, he's not a bad guy. A little uptight, he just needs to learn to relax. Huh, Darcy?"

"Shut up about Paul, okay? I didn't come here to talk about Paul." Darcy said, spinning in her stool to face Nate. "You there. You. In the blue suit. Why don't you do something useful and buy me a drink?"

"<You're going to need to flirt a lot harder if you want that free drink, Darcy. Otherwise, I think I'll stick with what I have right now.>" Meathead said, holding up his beer with his right hand, and lightly tapping his ringed finger against the glass.

She didn't notice the ring, but said, "Well, aren't you all high and mighty then, why don't you get lost, so I can drink in peace?" Darcy said, blowing Meathead off.

Henry was already there to reprimand her, "Lighten up, Darcy. This isn't your private bar, no matter what you think."

Nate took a few drinks of his beer, Henry stood back and smiled. "Can I get you anything else?"

Meathead shook his head. "<No, is this your place?>"

Henry nodded, "Yep. Owner, Bartender, sympathetic ear, I try to provide an oasis for all of life's hardships. Name's Cooke by the way, Henry Cooke. Just let me know if you need anything."

"<Nate.>" He said, offering a hand. Taking a firm grip and shaking once.

"Nice suit," Henry commented on the blue Vault 111 outfit.

"<Thanks... it's couture.>" Meathead said, laughing once to himself.

"Heh?" Henry asked, unsure of the joke.

"<It was a lame attempt at a bad joke.>" He explained, knowing full well how outdated the usage was.

"Eh," Henry said, giving up. He was a bartender, he'd heard all the stories and jokes from hundreds of people around the Commonwealth coming through to drink. "What's it mean?"

"<High-class fashion,>," Meathead said, taking another drink from his beer. This time, the flavor was finally settling in. His mind could finally appreciate the beers of the past because of the watery grainy wheat beer he was tasting right now. His eyes rolled back, trying to focus purely on the alcohol of the local beer, but he guessed it would take at least ten more beers to finally feel anything.

"How's it do outdoors?" Henry asked.

Meathead nodded, "<Nice. Keeps you warm and dry. Neoprene cuffs around the wrists and ankles to keep the water out, which is really nice. Good insulation, it pulls a little on the sides if you reach above your head, but that's about it.>"

Henry nodded back, "What'cha in town for?"

"<Come and go, just like everyone else. I'm in town for a few supplies, then I'm off again, thinking about heading south little ways, check out south Boston.>"

"Used to be that you would get a few people from New York every once and a while. Even a few fellers from Philly, maybe. Had guys from Providence wander this way at least once a month, every two months, but haven't gotten any fresh ideas down that way in over five now. Some'im's changed, but I hear that's a cause of the Gunners. Where are you from?" Henry asked.

"<I'm from Boston. But, really?>" Meathead asked, "<How's New York?>"

"From what I hear, shitty. But, the last guy to come from there was almost three years ago now. Haven't thought about that place since you walked in like a breeze of fresh air, mister."

"<Well, thank you.>" Meathead said, "<But, I gotta know, what do you know about New York?>"

"The guy who I talked to last, said that there are only a few bridges you can use to reach the island. Which, from what he said, you wouldn't want to go there in a hundred-million years. The metro system that makes up half of everything still dug in and standing down there...in his own words... collapsed tunnels, mutants, cannibals, and other shit. Plenty of them are flooded too. There's no saving grace going to New York, and I tell everyone the story ends there. There is no 'but' to this story, but there were, maybe still are, a few safe spots...compounds... like Diamond City, but I was told more places were looking to enslave or kill you, rather than let you squeak by in life keeping to yourself. Lott'a slavery...Lott'a fighting going on between the neighborhoods in and around New York."

"<Well, cheers if they ever figure it out,>," Meathead said, raising his bottle and finishing his beer. Ambiguously leaving 'it' up in the air, a gang war could consume the whole city, or an even bigger army could come in and wipe the whole slate clean, while divine intervention was doing its best by sending acid rain and nuclear winter.

"Cheers," Henry said.

"<Thank you for the beer,>" Standing up, then turning around, he left for the door.

"Come back soon," Henry called out after him.

"<If I haven't left by this evening, I'll be back for one more.>"

As soon as the door closed, the brown man in a scavenged white button-up, suspenders, and black pants smoking his cigar stood up and approached the bar.

"Took them long enough to leave," Nelson said. He was waiting to talk to Henry Cooke for some time now.

"How are you, Nelson?"

"I'm good, but do you know when the next shipment is coming in?"

"Soon, real soon. I'm going outside the city to check tonight."

\111/

Making his way down to the Power Noodles stand, a bowl of hot ramen sounded especially filling right now. The outside was overcast but bright. Walking down the metal staircase, the weight of his footsteps shook the entire structure and made it creak with every step.

His boots sloughed in the muck, over the piles of trash in the field. Taking a seat at Power Noodles, Meathead felt the self-pity before he heard a person sit down a stool away from him. The man was Paul, holding a piece of meat to his face.

The cold cut of beef helped with the sting and bruising muscles. Taking it down for a moment, he used his free hand to check the bones in his cheeks and eyes. He saw Nate sitting across from him as he checked a loose tooth, and tasted the iron of blood in his mouth.

"Hey, you," Paul said, looking at Nate. Putting the meat back to his eye, and applying pressure, he waited for Meathead to look back at him.

Meathead looked from his left and saw Bobbi No-Nose wearing a full gas mask that covered her face and eyes, with gloves to hide her hands. She approached the round bar at Power Noodles and took a seat across the ring from them. Turning his head to the right, Meathead looked Paul in his good eye.

"I got a question for you," Paul said, smiling at Nate.

Nate inhaled and nodded, "<What is it?>"

"You were in the Taphouse. Right before..." Paul gestured to himself.

"<Before you got your face smashed in by your wife's lover.>" Meathead said, offering his observation.

"Yeah. Pretty pathetic, isn't it?"

"<I didn't want to assume, but there was a lot to be said in there.>" Meathead replied.

"The guy's sleeping with my wife, and I can't do shit about it." Paul winced, feeling the muscles sting. His teeth ached at the thought of Darcy with Henry.

"<So, where do I come in?>" He asked, looking up towards the Colonial Taphouse.

"I'm going to go back and talk to Henry, and I want you to come with me," Paul said.

Meathead frowned, shaking his head.

"He won't take me seriously otherwise! I don't want to hurt him, I just want him to leave Darcy alone."

"<You're right, he won't take you seriously. I know he won't, Paul. That's why it's not a good idea for you to speak to him right now.>" Meathead said, drawing it out, hoping Paul would catch on first.

"Why not?" Paul asked.

"<Because you go in there right now, he'll give you another black eye, and then you'll have two black eyes. If you go in with a knife or a gun and lose your cool, then there will be hell to pay on both sides. You said you don't want to hurt him, but that he won't take you seriously. Let me talk to him.>" Meathead offered.

"You're right. You're right. What do I owe you?"

"<Right now, nothing, but consider it a favor and in return; keep in touch and when I come asking for a favor, you do the same. Do you need a stim pack?>" Meathead asked, "<I have a few spares in my kit, here.>" Offering again, he was trying to genuinely be nice.

"If you have a spare, that'd be great," Paul said, leaning towards Meathead. Setting the piece of meat on the counter, Paul waited as Meathead dug out a syringe for Paul, and gave it to him. Paul wiped his hands, then pressed the tip to a vein in his cheek.

The blood in his face flushed, becoming bright red as the swelling went down around the bruises.

"<I'll make sure he gets the message.>" Meathead said, now looking across the counters at Bobbi No-Nose. She was looking across the counter at him. She wasn't making any noise, but she was tapping her wrist.

"When do you think you might be able to talk to him?"

"<Today. I just need to take care of some personal business, and then I'll go speak with Henry.>" Nate said.

"Great," Paul settled into his seat, taking the cold-cut of brahmin meat away from his face and held it up. "Hey, Robot-San! Robot-O! Noodle-Bot! Cook this up! I don't want a good piece of meat going to waste."

"Nan-ni shimasho-ka?" The protectron chef asked, waddling over to Paul with a butcher knife.

\111/

Meathead slid around to the other side of Power Noodles, taking a stool next to Bobbi.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up." She said, faking disappointment.

"<Not much to do here except drink.>" Meathead replied.

"Good to know you're loose, now let's get down to business," Bobbi said.

"<One shit beer is far from loose, what do you have in mind?>"

"That big wall of glass looming over Diamond City is the mayor's office." Bobbi rolled one wrist, casually pointing two fingers up towards the announcer's booth.

"Most people don't know it, but there's a stronghold buried beneath it. Mayor's just sitting on top of it. That's our target."

"<If the target is here in Diamond City, what's all that in Goodneighbor?>" Nate asked.

"That's another task, for another day. Right now, the mayor has it coming. With how he treats my kind, maybe he deserves worse." Bobbi vexed her frustration against the mayor of Diamond City.

"<What's inside?>" Meathead asked, pressing his fingers together.

"Caps. Meds. Food. Everything to keep this city running. It's things we want, it's things everyone wants. If you're in, you'll get your share."

"<I know the difference between need and want, now, tell me why I should help you take down the mayor, and how we won't get caught.>" Meathead wanted to know.

"I managed to track down my tech guy, Mel. He's here in Diamond City. The guy can make a gadget to solve any problem." Bobbi No-nose explained.

"<Okay.>" Meathead replied, waiting for the exception to the rule.

"Thing is, he's a little locked up right now. You need to get him out of there, I can't walk in there with this face, covered or not." Bobbi upturned her palm towards her face while looking at Nate.

"<What's this gadget do?>"

"Causes a distraction."

"<An explosive, loud distraction? Or annoying distraction that'll make people run around for a while?>"

"One that you don't need to worry so much about. Trust me, this is the guy we need." She avoided his question.

"<How am I getting Mel out? What did he do?>" Meathead asked, trying to build a profile of Mel in his mind.

"I'm sure I don't know. Pick a lock, bribe a guard, find a key. The usual, just get him out." Bobbi said, standing up and leaving the counter.

\111/

Meathead went to the security office for Diamond City, it was in the opposing team's dugout on the left side of the field. The floor was caked with tracked-in mud and dirt, but the concrete walls were solid and the cells they put in were able to keep anyone rowdy inside.

"<Hey, I'm looking for a guy named Mel, I heard he did something to get locked up.>"

The security officer standing guard gestured to a man sitting with his legs crossed and leaning back.

"<He was caught reprogramming the bartending robot at the Colonial Taphouse, trying to get it to give him free drinks. Not that I would blame him, it's something I'd do if I knew how. Unfortunately for him, he got caught while doing it.>"

The man in the cage smiled, leaning forward a little bit.

"<Well, how long's he in there for?>"

"Since you're the only one asking, I'd say he's about served his time. Let me go get the keys, and we'll get him out of here."

Meathead smiled, expecting more of a hassle.

Mel overheard, standing up and stretching his arms out. "Well, out you go. Don't do it again. Or at least try harder not to get caught. Next time I'll just break your favorite fingers, and then we'll see how much you want to hack the robot." The guard said.

The Diamond City guard unlocked the door with one hand and pulled it open with the other with practiced ease. "I know you know how to do it, but please don't. We want to focus on threats outside the city, and keep them from coming in, not the other way around." The guard voiced his displeasure against crime in the city.

"<What's your name?>" Meathead asked.

"Derrick." The Guard replied.

"<Don't forget, when the enemy is creating a distraction, and you know that the enemy is trying to draw your attention away, you must determine what it is they are trying to draw your attention away from. The Art of War. Sun Tsu.>"

"Oh yeah? And who's the enemy here?" Derrick asked.

"<The Institute...if they've got everyone so focused on their synths, then what are they doing that they don't want us to know about?>"

\111/

Mel and Nate didn't speak until leaving the security area and were back outside.

"Thanks. God, that woman doesn't have a patient bone in her body. It's not like I was serving a life sentence in there! I was in for sneaking some beer! Not a big deal!" Mel's hair was red in the sunlight, but the dirt in his clothes made everything look brown.

"<Maybe it's because most of her bones are living radioactive half-lives, all the energy might drain a person, make them irritable.>" Nate speculated.

"Yeah, well, what's the job?" Mel asked, crossing his arms.

"<DC stockroom.>" Nate says. Mel looks back to the security station and lifts his eyes.

"That's a good score. You work with Bobbi before?" Mel asks.

"<No.>"

"Yeah, that sounds like enough caps to keep me going for a while. She may be shady, but she always pays in the end. Is it happening at her place in Goodneighbor?" He asks with finality.

"<I have no idea what her plan is, but I know two things are going on in her head. One is the DC stockroom, the other is something in Goodneighbor. You tell me.>"

Mel let out a deflated sigh, "That sounds like Bobbi, anyway, it'll make sense after we do the job. Where's she having us meet?"

"<Back in Goodneighbor.>"

"Guess I'll see you there," Mel said. With only the cramped streets between shacks to navigate the city, they both wandered back to the city market. Bobbi was gone, feeling that her time was beginning to be unwelcome. Mel departed past home plate, leaving separately from Meathead.

With only a backpack with ammo, a tight amount of food rations, stim-paks, and water. He knew he would need more to take on the vast deadly environment of the Glowing Sea.

Paul Sheppard was served his steaming eating his bowl of beef and noodles at the pitcher's mound, blowing off the steam and slurping it down.

Turning up to the left, the Colonial Taphouse waited above the stands.

\111/

"I'll be ready," Nelson finished, standing up off the stool. Henry took the mug from the bar counter and brought it back to his side. The door to the bar opened, and both Nelson and Henry looked to see who it was.

"I'll be there, I just need to close up," Henry replied, standing up from his stool.

It was the vault dweller, wearing his blue suit. "Nate," Henry said, calling out to him. "Thought I scared you off with my good charm." He joked, hoping to get another sale out of his return. Nelson passed Meathead through the pro-offered open door, then let it close.

Darcy was gone, the bar was empty aside from Meathead and Henry.

"<I heard you, Henry, and I won't take up too much of your time.>" Meathead said as he came in a second time that evening.

"Oh yeah? What's this about?" He asked, leaning against the bar.

"<Well, someone told me a joke in this bar two hundred and fifteen years ago, but it's not a joke, it's a question.>"

"Oh really? What's the question? What're you? Some kind' a ghoul? Was that what was happening to your Vault?" Henry rattled off the questions.

"<No. Frozen in time. Anyway; What do you say to a person with two black eyes?>" Meathead asked.

Henry shook his head, "I don't know."

"<Nothing, because it's already been said twice.>" Letting the joke sink in, Henry smiled, "<Anyway, Paul comes up to me with a piece of meat on his face and a black eye. He wants to know about you and his wife.>"

"I don't see how that's much of your business," Henry replied, leaning one elbow down on the counter, the other went under the bar, and Nate's eyes followed it, watching the anger rise behind his voice. What he was looking for was the way the forearm flexed, as if it were grabbing the grip of a gun below the bar.

"<Paul made it my business to discover if his wife is being unfaithful, or if she's spending too much time away from home.>" Meathead summarized, "<Cause you did beat the shit out of him. He's a little punch drunk, but that won't stop him from coming back up in here until he hears otherwise. If anything, he's already thinking about what he's going to say to you or Darcy next time he comes strolling through the door.>"

"Nobody tells me what to do in my place, bub. You better turn around and walk out while you still can."

"<Listen, cheating on another man's wife is never good for business, if anything, it gets other people interested in the wrong details of your business. Soon, people won't be coming here for the beer or the mayflies in their face, they'll be here asking around, looking for the same story. Eventually, things will come to a head when So-and-So drinking over in the corner one day mentions to Paul, 'Hey, Darcy and Cooke were flirting up a storm,' then people get the wrong idea.>" Nate rubbed the side of his face and nodded, "<It's better to just squash the rumors, and cut them off. What do you think will happen if Piper gets wind of this and fires off a story about this whole supposed affair? I mean, people are always asking Piper to print something else besides synths.>"

Cooke was filled with loathing and dread at the mention of Piper's name, while not ideal, it was the intended effect as Cooke took a remorseful deep breath and sighed.

"Alright. I admit it. It was never a good idea from the start. You know how it is, Darcy always hanging around, she says she wants a little excitement in her life, but..." Cooke didn't finish the sentence. "Go tell Paul it's over, and Darcy gets the ban. That good enough for you?"

Meathead nodded, pulling his lips in, Cooke was hiding something and Meathead could see it on his face and through his emotions clear as day. <It's a good start...You're a good man, but something more...concrete would help in the long run.>"

Cooke raised his eyebrows, internally questioning Nate's motive. His hand lessened his grip around the stock of the gun he was pointing at Meathead underneath the bar, but he still hadn't let go of it.

"How 'bout this. We kill two birds with one stone, and yes, I say we 'cause the more muscle, the better, to do this. Something I been thinking on for a while now...Think of it as a peace offering, I want you to bring Paul along."

"<Okay, let's hear it.>" Nate sat up, readjusting in his seat.

Cooke let go of the gun and leaned in on both elbows, "Here's the deal, I got a little side gig." Cooke's face broke out in a wide grin, this was the real moneymaker of the Colonial Taphouse, not the cheap beer or the climate.

"That punk who walked out of here just now, Nelson Latimer. He absolutely loves spending his dad's money to make himself feel like a gangster." Rolling his eyes up, Cooke imagined the whole scenario unfolding.

"<Dang, there's a lot more scheming going on in DC than I realized!>," Meathead said with mock astonishment.

"Nelson and I are supposed to meet with some men from Goodneighbor. Cash for chems. My plan is we take the money and the chems."

Meathead smiled and nodded, giving Cooke leeway to keep talking, but it hid what he was thinking. Meathead had no intention of ripping off drug dealers from Goodneighbor. This plan sounded like a bum deal, and end up with Cooke dead for trying to double-cross Nelson and the dealers for taking their cash. It would only get worse once the suppliers came asking questions, and Cooke couldn't come up with anything else aside from 'I don't know what happened to the deal'.

If this deal was a regular occurrence, then there must be people on the other end who know Cooke, Nelson, and the dealers meet. It doesn't leave much to the imagination that only a single person gets away alive.

"<What about afterward? Everyone's going to be coming after us, and I don't feel like walking around Boston with a target on my back.>"

What Paul said next would only confirm his suspicions, that Cooke wasn't playing the long game. He was greedy and wanted a short quick score that would end up hurting plenty of people.

"Come on. You know the answer. No witnesses." Cooke held his hands out and up like this was a fool-proof plan. How he couldn't see past the end of the day showed his shortsightedness.

Meathead responded with a "<Cheers. How about a shot to steady the nerves before we go?>" Pointing to a bottle of whiskey, Meathead thought back to what Nate told him, about how fools like this didn't last long in a world like this. Time to prove him right.

"Sure. Sure. Forget the caps, when this is done, you'll have enough to buy a bar of your own." The smile on Cooke's face only got wider and wider, his face more energetic. Placing two shot glasses on the counter, he poured one shot and passed one to Meathead.

Then, reaching under the counter, he pulled out a little pill, crushed it up with the shot glass, and scraped it onto his hand. Snorting it, he gasped and coughed heartily. Pouring a shot for himself, Nate was still holding his as Cooke raised the shot glass, "Cheers."

Drinking it, Meathead asked, "<Why chems? They got the rainbow guy down there selling drugs like it was candy.>"

Cooke coughed to clear his throat, "Mayor McDonnough..." Cooke coughed loudly twice, then steadied himself by placing his free hand on the counter. "McDonnough takes a cut of all chems coming into town. I just walk in through the gate with Nelson and a duffle bag full of chems, and we go on our merry way doing business. Nelson fronts the cash, I make the arrangements, cheap chems for everyone. Now, let me close up, and I'll meet you outside the Wall. Gotta get prepared."

Meathead left the Colonial Taphouse, then went to the rail's edge.

Looking down at his Pip-Boy, he stopped the recording and shook his head, no wonder the real Nate always left the Pip-Boy on.

His senses went out to a young, dumb drug dealer who was about to wise up real quick.

\111/

Meathead caught up with Paul Pembroke on the third baseline drive, his head still swaying from the black eye which reduced in swelling down to dark bruises.

"<Paul.>" Meathead called out, catching him by the shoulder.

"Nate?" He asked, jerking his head around.

<"I did what you asked, Henry told me he and Darcy are sleeping together.>"

Paul's heart broke right there in the street, his lips were trembling, from sadness to anger, then back to sadness. He broke out in tears because he couldn't pretend he didn't know anymore. Paul was suffering, but the facts didn't give him the immediate bliss he expected. It was painful to watch, but Meathead was empathetic to his misery.

"<Paul. Henry is going to do something incredibly damn stupid, and I need your help killing him.>"

"What...What now?" His face was red, and head swinging left to right.

"<I have a tape, I recorded our conversation when we spoke. I'll play it, and you might understand.>"

Replaying the talk between Henry Cooke and himself, he skipped through the lines to get to the part about the deal. Paul looked up to Meathead, "I don't know, that plan sounds kind of risky. You want me to help you kill Nelson and the dealers?"

"<No, we're going to triple-cross this double-crossing mother fucker, and expose him. He's waiting outside the gate, waiting for me to come back with or without you, depending on if you want to come or not. He wants us to help him kill Nelson and the dealers, but that just shows how little he's thought this out. What do you think happens when the dealer's cooks, suppliers, and bosses come asking around after Nelson and the dealers don't come back because they're all dead? They're going to talk to every DC guard, and person on the street, and you know what they're going to say?>"

"What?"

"<O' Henry? Yeah, I saw Henry leave with two other guys at this time of day...Nelson? No, I haven't seen him since that day either! Paul, we would be walking targets, Henry would be dead within a week, that's if he doesn't rat us out, and then they'd be after us. But, if we expose him in front of Nelson and the dealers with this tape as evidence...>"

"He'll be gone for good."

"<Henry's plan doesn't take into account for Nelson's father either, who is sure going to come around asking questions about what happened to his son. I don't know who he is, but believe me, there's not much a father won't do for his son, especially if it means getting revenge on the person who killed them. If there's time, I want to get Nelson on our side as well. But otherwise, we need to get going.>"

"We're leaving right now?"

"<Yes...Unless. Do you know where Nelson's father is right this second?>"

Paul was silent for half a second, "Yeah," He said, his face lighting up.

"<Go grab him, drag him out, tell him Henry's about to kill his son. I'll tell Henry you're not coming, but you need to tail us. You fill him in on the details that a deal is about to go down, and Henry is going to try and double-cross everyone, but we're going to stop him before he does anything. Pull yourself together, and load up.>"

"Okay. Let's do it."

\111/

Malcom Latimer was a man with a bird's eye view of Diamond City, spending his easy days relaxing on the balcony outside or above of the Colonial Taphouse, he knew that what his son did with his money was buying drugs and smuggling them into the city. There was never any issue with credit, not that he needed it, but it was always available for him at the Colonial Taphouse.

The only reason the dealers didn't shoot his son and rob Nelson blind was that he was Malcom Latimer's son.

He was aware of most of the details, even when his son didn't think he did. But, it was through old connections that a Triggerman came up to him in broad daylight, and told him that his son was making purchases from Marowski's ghoul crew.

No warning, no preface, "Your son buys from the ghouls from the South End."

The only reason this courtesy was extended to Malcom Latimer was that he was a Triggerman. Not as active in his later years, he was finally in a position where all he needed to do was drink all day, and watch the caps come rolling in as tribute.

When Paul Pembroke, sporting a black eye and babbling that his son was about to be double-crossed by Henry Cooke, the same man who gave Paul the black eye, the first thought that came to him was that it was a ruse. But when he said the vault dweller had a tape of Henry bribing him to be his second gunman, and that Henry wanted to kill Nelson, and the dealers, the second thought was that this was a poorly-thought-out ruse.

"Look, Malcom, there's no other reason in the world I would come to you unless it was an emergency. I'm coming to you as a friend, and warning you, that Henry's going to kill your son, but the vault-guy he's got with him is going to pull a fast one on Henry and expose him in front of Nelson, and whoever else is there, with a holotape he recorded of the whole conservation!"

If Henry killed Nelson, the bartender must realize that he knew about the dealings he and his son made, when in such a small community where everyone knows that the best place to get cheap drugs is from the Taphouse, how stupid does Henry think he can act completely blind to a deal turned south?

\111/

It was clear to the Diamond City Guards that something wasn't right, but they didn't interfere. Meathead walked behind Henry, who was leading them north to the Charles River. They went around the left side of the stadium, along the outside of the third baseline. Henry carried an infantry rifle, something that could pop off a dozen shots in a short amount of time, but not as fast as Meathead's rifle aimed directly at the backside of Henry's kneecap. Playing the waiting game in his mind, Meathead bided his time.

They passed Bobbi-No Nose outside the gate, waiting across the street. Meathead hung back for a moment and gravely shook his head making the finger-gun hand gesture and pointing it at Henry Cooke. 'Pow' he mouthed. Bobbi tapped her wrist, but other than that, no words were said.

"Nelson is starting to think he doesn't need me," Cooke said, his overweight appearance did nothing to slow down the trot speed he worked himself into. Voicing his thoughts out loud, he was riding the pill's effects full swing, and his smile kept growing wider and wider as he became more sure of himself.

"We're late, but I'm sure Trish won't hand over the chems until I get there."

Meathead took a glance over his shoulder, at the far end of the block was Paul Pembroke peering around the corner. After a moment, Malcom Latimer and Paul both followed at a far distance.

Making their way to the riverfront, they walked east parallel to the water and came to a stop a block away from Back Street Apparel.

"Okay, this is the spot. There's always four of Marowski's goons: Trish, who's in charge and waves the gun around, and then three guys who offload the boat."

"You should be able to work your way around these buildings and get a good angle on them. I'll wait for the shooting to start, then join in from there."

<Piece of shit.> Meathead thought to himself, realizing how Henry Cooke imagined this all in his head.

He would claim the deal was getting raided, and that he was barely able to escape with his life, while Nelson, Trish, and the other gang members were shot dead.

This would play out in Meathead's favor, he's setting himself up for a double-crossing of a lifetime, one that will soon end.

"Remember, we can't afford to let anyone get away," Henry instructed Meathead.

"<Count on it.>"

\111/

Waving Paul and Malcom Latimer over, Meathead didn't have much time to explain things to Nelson's father, but the urgent expression on his face made the father impatient.

"<Malcom? I have a tape exposing Henry, he's going to kill your son, but here's the set-up. Nelson and Henry are making a deal, I'm the triggerman who sets this whole thing off, and Henry is going to shoot Nelson in the gunfight, but the only shot I'm taking is one that's going to blow out Henry's damn kneecap. Then, you shout for Nelson and get him to calm everyone else down. Understand?>"

"Yes, but why are you doing this?"

"<Because I'm a father too. Now we need to hurry, fast. Paul? You still on board?>"

"Yes."

Practically shoving the two around the corner, Nate instructed them to lay low as he took cover behind a brick wall and lined up his only shot.

\111/

"Where's Cooke?" Trish complained the weathered ghoul's face could hardly display her frustrated emotion, but to Nate, it was clear as day. "We can't keep sitting around here forever."

"Relax, he'll be here any minute," Nelson replied, looking over his shoulder for Henry to arrive.

"Come on man, I'm seriously getting pissed off."

"Why do we need him anyway? I got the money."

"You do, huh? I'll keep that in mind. But, where's Cooke?"

"On his way, old crusty is taking his sweet ass time though."

"I'm here! I'm here." Henry said, walking up with his rifle in hand. He couldn't see Nate but didn't want to chance a glance looking for him. "Nelson, Trish, I apologize, I needed to close down the bar."

Meathead stared down the scope, inhaled, then on the exhale pulled the trigger.

There was a fraction of a millisecond from when Henry heard the shot, of pure exhilaration and joy that the plan was going to go off without a hitch, and then the bullet burst through his right kneecap, forcing him to fall on the ground and scream.

Everyone went into full panic mode, completely alert and guns ready to shoot anything that moved.

"<Malcom, you're up. Shout.>"

"NELSON!"

The muscles in Nelson's neck clenched and he dipped his head toward the sound. "NELSON!"

All the Triggermen and Nelson swung their guns towards the noise, but Nelson shouted back, "Don't shoot! -...Dad!?"

"Nelson! Don't shoot! We're coming out! Henry was going to try and kill you! We got proof! It's all on tape!"

"Nelson! What the fuck is going on?!" Trish demanded.

"That's my fucking father!"

"Nelson!"

"Dad! Where are you?" Scanning the storefront, and the alley, Malcom raised his hands over his head, and slowly approached the gang. "Don't shoot. Don't shoot."

"<Paul,>" Meathead whispered, "<Get Henry's gun away from him.>"

<We're coming out! Nelson! We have evidence Henry was going to betray all of you!>"

"Don't listen, he's lying!" Henry shouted from the ground, he dropped his gun after being hit, but it was so close he could reach out and grab it. Only, his hands were preoccupied with clasping the wound over his leg, and his palms were covered in his blood.

"<We're coming out!>" Meathead shouted again.

Trish and her guards didn't know what to make of the situation, but they waited on Trish to pull the trigger and give them the sign to fire at will.

Slowly, Malcom, Nate, and Paul all came out, and then as they approached, Paul kicked away Henry's gun.

"You've got about five seconds before there are holes in all of you, to explain why you just shot my business partner," Trish ordered.

"<That's all we need. I've got a tape on my Pip-Boy I recorded a conversation between Henry and myself, he was planning to kill everyone here, and take everything for himself. All you need to do is listen and then decide for yourself.>"

"Nate, you cocksucking fucking rat liar! You're a fucking rat!"

Meathead ignored Henry's insults and unclasped the Pip-Boy, offering it to Trish. "<Says the man sleeping with other people's wives>."

"All right, all of you on your knees. Jarome, Theo, get over there. Take their guns."

Grabbing their weapons, Malcom looked the ghoul called Theo in the eye and told him, "That's my son." As he relinquished his weapon, he sat down on his knees, with his hands behind his head. From that moment on, he never took his eyes off Nelson.

She hesitantly approached, and when she came within a few meters, Meathead pressed play. The rest of the Triggermen and Nelson were silent, intent on listening to the evidence as well to cast their judgments on the four people in front of them.

The whole conversation, from when Meathead entered the Colonial Taphouse, admitting Darcy and Henry were sleeping together, which Paul had to endure hearing the words again, to Henry telling Nate about the side business, and Henry's offer to Nate to kill Nelson and the dealers. Trish noted that Nate never actually agreed to Henry's double-crossing deal, he only replied with 'Cheers'.

"That does it then. Nelson. Shoot him." Trish ordered. Nelson took his revolver and shot Henry dead center of the skull, without another lying deceitful word out of Henry's mouth.

Henry's body went limp, and the blood splattered across the road and onto the sidewalk.

"The rest of you, on your feet," Trish ordered, looking at Malcom first.

Malcom went up to Nelson, "What did I tell you about messing with gangs?"

Nelson was still shocked and embarrassed his father was coming to save him, but he was relieved as well. "Don't get caught?"

Malcom slapped Nelson with the back of his hand. "Don't be a dumbass! Get the fuck home! We're talking about this when I'm through here." His son spun, tripping on his heels and falling onto the ground as his father berated him.

Nelson was sent scurrying away, leaving the drugs and the money behind him. "Now that's out of the way, mind telling us who the hell are you, and why did you help us?" Trish asked.

"<This is Paul, Darcy's husband. I'm Nate. Malcom...>"

"Trish and I are acquainted through a friend of a friend," Malcom replied, not needed Meathead to make the introductions.

Nate nodded, "<Okay. I didn't have much time to whip up a plan, since Henry only told me about this deal less than an hour ago, but even I knew he was making a big mistake. I may have been born at night, but it wasn't last night. Any father, like Malcom here, would've started asking questions as to what happened to his son. After that, your boss, or your suppliers would come asking around as to what happened to you four. As I said, Henry would need to answer questions that weren't going to go away. I figured Henry would rat on me since it doesn't take much to find out from a guard that Henry and I left Diamond City together, you could've asked any one of the Diamond City guards. Instead, I told Paul and Malcom, Henry was going to try and kill Nelson, and that he would be the only one after I fired my shot to get through to Nelson.>"

"You're a smart man, but that still doesn't explain why you helped us. That rifle you have...I've seen the model, you could've taken maybe two more shots before we found where you were shooting from."

"<Sleeping with another man's wife is already bad for business, it says that he'll sleep and fuck your girlfriend or wife on the side, but still sell you liquor at full price. The way I see it, business can carry on, and you'll still need a storefront to operate out of. You're looking at the new owner of Colonial Taphouse, Paul how would you like a job as a bartender? I'm hiring, plus where else is your wife going to go?>"

Paul was slightly surprised that his name was being put out there, but Trish and the Triggermen all sized him up in one glance as if to say 'yeah, he will do', before moving on. He didn't get to voice his opinion, but he was put in a position where he couldn't exactly refuse. He got his wish that Henry is dead, and if the cost was to take over Henry's life and be cut in on the profits made from a side gig he never knew about, there was an opportunity to be made.

Malcom spoke next, "What are you expecting to gain from this, Nate?"

With the attention of the group on Nate, he replied. "<I want the Taphouse with Paul running it, 15% as my share for investing in all future endeavors with the Taphouse and the Triggermen. All I want is for business to keep going as usual. All we need to do is hash out a new deal right now, and by this time next shipment, business will be back to what it was, minus Henry.>"

Trish wasn't in the mood to strike a deal, but with Henry dead and this vault dweller offering a deal, she accepted it.

Malcom departed after his son, leaving Paul, Nate, Trish, and the other three Triggermen to finish up.

"Business goes on, but-" Trish said, turning to Nate, "I want to have a little chat with you, One-Eleven."

\111/

After taking the keys to the Colonial Taphouse, and whatever else was in his pockets, the Triggermen carried Henry's body to concrete rail lining the river, and then dumped him over. The keys to the Colonial Taphouse were given to Paul, along with half the shipment of chems, and with the money being fronted by Meathead, Malcolm, and Trish for Paul to buy the Colonial Taphouse from Diamond City legally, Malcolm left as well.

Only Meathead, Trish, and the Triggermen were there to talk.

"You said that Henry was bad for business, but no one does something like this for people like us without wanting something more than money in return."

"<You're right, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Did you know that back before the bombs fell, sleeping with another man's wife if you were in the mafia, was enough to get you killed?>" Trish was unfazed by the comment but pressed on.

"What do you really want, One-Eleven?" She asked, referring to the numbers on his Vault suit.

"<I'm building something when the time is right, I'll need your support.>"

"What kinda project is this?" Trish asked, "What are you building? Sounds big, sounds juicy, but I want the details."

"<If we met under different circumstances, I'd be willing to tell you more, but right now, as I said, since not nearly the amount of things are in place yet, it'll topple before it even starts. Just know that someday, and that day may never come, I'll call on you for a favor. Will, you agree to that?>"

"Fine Mr. One-eleven. Deal. A favor. But, what do you want right now that'll get this big project of yours rolling?"

"<A few things, things that won't cost anyone much. What are the chems you're smuggling into Diamond City right now?>"

"Jet, Mentats, Psycho, Buffout, and Stimpaks," Trish responded, rattling off the five names.

"<In my hip pouch here,>" Meathead pointed down at the pouch strapped to his leg, "<I've got some goodies cooked up by Red's Stockpile Raiders. I don't know if you are aware of the changes, but Tower Tom from the Beantown Brewery is dead. He killed Red's sister, Lily, and now the territory, Sparta, and the last of Tower Tom's gang sided with Red.>"

"How'd that all come about?" Trish asked.

"<A few others and myself lead an assault on Tower Tom after he made us aware that he killed Red's sister, Lily, and then was sending forged letters to Red in demand for supplies. Long story short, I recorded Tom admitting it, and played the tape for Red.>"

"I'll need to be sure what I say around you," Trish said, scratching at her chest. "So you want us to cut a deal with these raiders?"

"<Well, that's only if it's in your best interest. Right now, as I said, things aren't in place, so if a deal was forced right now, it might not work. Things might turn ugly before they even begin, but if you were to take these chems Red's gang cooked up to your boss, and gave them to a taster, then he can decide if he wants to diversify and purchase chems from Red. The main problem right now is distribution and building the supply lines, which is something that you and your people seem to have figured out.>"

Trish exhaled a no-pressure offer, something that might not even go through, a little test run. "All right, let's see these chems, what are they anyway?"

"<I put labels on them, Overdrive, Jet Fuel, Bufftats, and Ultrajet, there were some more back at the lab, but again, there's always more if you're interested. Take these, first time's free. Then we'll see what happens.>"

"And what do you get out of all of this?"

"<Let me put it this way when was the last time you walked from Concord to South Boston without being shot at?>"

A deep sardonic laugh came from the pit of Trish's lungs like she was coughing out a load of flem, and growling like a dog, "Ah haha."

"<Exactly. All I want is to go from one end of Boston to the other without being shot at, now, is that too much for anyone to ask for? Wouldn't you want that?>"

"Yeah, in about a thousand years."

"<Before the big war, everyone could do it, I say it won't take more than people all agreeing not to shoot at each other.>"

"All right, you want to walk around without being shot at? I'll tell Marowski and our ghoul crew in South Boston to keep an eye out for One-Eleven." Trish turned to the other three Triggermen, "All right, back on the boat, we'll get these chems to Marowski and see if they're worth the effort. As for you, for saving us the trouble from dealing with Henry, come to the Four Leaf Fishpacking Plant, but watch for ghouls, smooth-skin! Southie is crawling with ghouls we'll hook you up with whatever you need for a good time. Remember the code word, Applejack." Waving him off, Trish and the Triggermen left on a metal boat welded together with a small motor attached to the back.

\111/

No joke, that's the password Trish gives you in the game.