Travis 'Lonely' Miles was tapping his hands on his desk along with the beat, making a 'ticking' noise with his tongue. Drumming along, his head was bobbing, eyes closed, completely lost in the moment, he was in his studio in Diamond City, but in his mind, he was in a TV station studio, sitting in the audience as the band took the stage in front of blue curtains with glowing orange, yellow, and light blue stars. The band members wore matching leisure suits, and the woman singing wore an updew with a full length yellow dress that came down to her ankles, wearing matching colored heels. Cameras on rollers six feet tall, and the light blinking 'On Air' 'Applause'.
'Onetwothreeone, Onetwothreeone, Onetwothreeone, shoobiedoop.'

"Gee what a guy," Diamond City Radio, Who knows, Diamond City? I could be that guy."

As Nate, Hancock, and Meathead returned to the North End, they followed a similar route back towards Bunker Hill but were halted by the display of dead marauders.

All twelve of the same marauders leading the slave train were hanging, strung up onto lamp posts and traffic lights, with the word 'Slaver' carved into their chest. The first body had a note pinned into the abdomen held in place by a knife. All down the road and above the streets were dead bodies hanging, with the addition of blood and drag marks, bullet casings littering the street, abandoned guns of where the raiders died, it looked like a warzone.

"<We got a note here...>"

Whisking the note to them with Meathead's magic, it was a big red heart with the words "<Love you, Killer.>"

"What's it say?" Hancock asked.

"Love you. Killer?" Nate read the note aloud, flipping it over and passing the note around, Meathead groaned.

"<Oh Geeze, it's Pickman and Athena. The unicorn that follows him around. She's...vengeance and rage and...and...I don't know what to think...this might be a gift... to us.>"

"What the ever-loving hell is this?" Hancock said, reading the note and looking around at the hanging corpses everywhere. "It's...like they took a bombed-out street and made it even worse! Crimony!" Hancock whirled around, looking up at the faces to see if he recognized any of them. Shuddering, he hated the feeling that was coming over him.

"If this is...If these are the guys leading the slave train...where the hell did everybody go?" Nate asked, Hancock was still in shock of seeing the blood-bathed street.

"How'd they do it so fast?"

"Any idea where Pickman and Athena are, Meathead? Or any of the people?"

Meathead hummed, closing his eyes to block out any visual distractions so he could focus, "<I think the former slaves made a break for Bunker Hill...But...Pickman and Athena...They're...>" Spinning around, "<I couldn't tell you. Maybe somewhere in Cambridge. Otherwise, there's a handful of rage cases all over the place. Pickman's harder to pick out, he's not exactly emotionally stable.>"

"Well, next time you see him, tell him that this," Hancock said, whirling his finger in small circles, "Comes back around to the settlements in the wrong ways. Any of these guys' buddies show up, the first place they go is towards the closest town and start demanding answers, questions people can't answer. Then it's just like what happened this morning at Libertalia all over again."

"<I hate to say it, but I'm going to guess Athena was the instigator for this fight. Pickman is a bit more subtle, lays traps, catches small groups off guard. Being from Nuka-World, Athena's got a few bones to pick with slavers and the Equestrians for leaving them here.>"

"Well, tell your girlfriend she's gotta tone it down a notch."

\111/

Descended to the basement and through the catacombs to find a small group waiting for them. Deacon, and the Railroad's leader, Desdemona, with Palo Santo, and another female agent alert by the tunnel leading further into the base.

The unicorn's horn was glowing, holding the chip prototype they retrieved from the Switchboard. Observing Nate's party as they entered, Desdemona spoke, addressing the group. "Deacon tells me that you single-handedly secured Doctor Carrington's prototype, counter-ambushed a synth party, and wiped out over a hundred Gen 1 synths."

"Generals who get promoted quickly wipe out one hundred enemies, and ten commanding officers, with a single bomb; Altogether, there were fifteen synths. It was a coordinated effort between Deacon, Hancock, and myself with Meathead, with Palo Santo as moral support."

Hancock exhaled a small laugh, "Hea...he..." But the noise was discarded.

"Still," Desdemona said, looking back to Deacon, "I was expecting Deacon to grab a full team, including Glory to secure this."

"You wouldn't have wanted a large team, tight corridors, blind corners, confined tunnels, any more than four, and it would've been too much." Nate reasoned. "The gunfire echoing down there was loud enough as it was."

"The two of you cleared out the rest of the Switchboard yourself. Deacon hasn't spoken this highly, or lied so much, about anyone before, you make quite the impression. So, welcome to the Railroad."

"Great, what's the Railroad's next step?"

"Secrecy is the only thing keeping the Railroad alive right now, so we need to know what to call you. What do you prefer we call you?"

Hancock suggested, "Call him, 'The Handler', cause there's not much he can't handle."

Nate was looking over his shoulder to him, then turned back to face Desdemona, nodding, "Yeah," he said.

"Seems appropriate, considering all the contacts you've made for yourself throughout the Commonwealth. Your first official order is to escort Santo to Doctor Carrington and see if he can use another pair of hands. I'm also aware that you intend to head south, but, if we are to make it to the end of each week without the Institute crashing down on us, we need your help before you go. Handler, time to meet the rest of the gang."

"Do I get a nickname?" Hancock asked.

"John Hancock the Second, Hancock for short. You're wearing the original Hancock's outfit from over five hundred years ago and promote equal treatment of the social classes; were there any other defining attributes we don't know about?" Desdemona deadpanned. Hancock was profile enough as it stands.

Hancock hummed, "I like it."

"The main entrance is our most viable and direct way in or out of the Railroad, so be careful when coming or going. You never know who may be watching."

"Then I suppose now would be a good time to mention the Institute is using synthetic crows to video monitor and record everything happening in the Commonwealth," Nate said, seeing how his word carried a small amount of weight.

That got everyone to stop, "Excuse me?" Desdemona asked, "What did you..." Everyone not already informed shared confused looks with each other. "Did you just say synthetic crows?" Squinting her eyes, there was a flame of indignation and anger at the realization of the Railroad's misfortune.

Desdemona looked like she was about to swear, but Deacon's outburst cut her off. "When the hell did they start doing that?! How did you find out? Why didn't you say so?!"

"Shooting at birds found two reals and a fake crow. Ask Piper in Diamond City. We took it, and it's in a safe place. Despite her wanting to publish an article on it, I convinced her that this was the only advantage over the Institute. When she publishes, the Institute will switch gears, and the public will go gun-crazy on shooting everything that flies, including the possibility they target our Pegasus friends. After that, who knows? Cows? Synthetic Chickens? Nah- those would be rooted out too quickly. Synthetic seagulls?" Nate stopped speaking as he saw the monkey wrench he tossed to into the Railroad's machinations grind everyone's gears to a halt.

The agent Glory pushed herself away from the wall she was leaning on and stormed off, rage present on her face but contained under a thin veil.

"Nate - Handler, take Santo to Doctor Carrington, I need to address this issue with the rest of the Railroad," Desdemona said. "Deacon. Go tell the lookout." He did a quick one-finger salute before walking back up to the church.

"You're with me," Santo the Unicorn said, she spun around and followed Desdemona into the lower catacombs, expecting Nate to follow.

\111/

In the lower catacombs was a brick tunnel tomb, curved ceilings, with a covered well in the center leading straight down to the Charles River and bay. Desdemona rallied everyone to the center well where a map was laid out, and quickly introduced Nate as Handler, before informing everyone about the Switchboard, and the Synth-crows they discovered.

There were upwards of fifty people all hunkered down in the catacombs, ponies counted in the mix as well, fifteen hooved supporters of the Railroad, who Meathead was quick to roam around the room in his dog-form and get everyone's scent.

While the discovery of more ponies was what Meathead was silently hoping for a while now, he had yet to find any trace of another changeling anywhere in the Commonwealth. He acknowledged he was lying to himself that he had any hope of finding another. When a changeling dies, their form is locked, and they forever remain in their final state, unable to switch back. That way the deception remains permanent, long after the body is dead to fool the greatest detectives and analytical minds. It's only as the changeling is dying, they lose focus, they lose touch with reality, and are susceptible to shock that they change back, exposing themselves. But, if a changeling dies exceptionally fast; a car crash, gunned down, a piano falls on them, then the deception remains. There wasn't enough time, nor pressing reason for Nate to speak with the ponies of the Railroad except for Santo and Doctor Carrington at the moment, not until after introductions were made and the conversation turned to the plight of the ponies.

The room was converted into a small operations center, a safe house that could send and receive field messages, beds, and bunks for sleeping; some on top of coffins, others inside of coffins. Shelves lined with food and supplies, tools, and scrap, guns leaning everywhere, all loaded, all ready for an Institute attack when the day came.

After Desdemona's announcement, the mood in the Railroad Headquarters changed, "I believe this is the reason why we were found out in Lexington." They were all still bitter about the loss, and still stinging, this only forced the wound back open, and the sour emotion was puss leaking out.

Meathead balked quietly to himself, gagging on the stink they made for themselves. Hancock was being doubly interested in the dog Nate let follow him everywhere, aware that it was all a guise. That is what he was laughing about.

\111/

Santo nudged Nate, pulling his attention to the Doctor in the white medic gown, stained yellow from age and heavy amounts of bleach.

"Doctor Carrington?" Santo asked, still holding the prototype with her magic in a small pink ball.

"Ah, Palo Santo," Doctor Carrington was a fair-aged Indian-American, in his thirties, but because of the stress of living in the post-war world, his black hair was plagued with strands of gray hair. "So this is the recruit brought on without any training, and without knowing anything about you because we were all tired of smelling desperation in the air."

The dry comment was washed off by Nate, who wasn't looking to impress anyone. Inhaling and staggering his exhale, he overturned his right hand for a moment, as the gesture was meant to ask, 'anything else you'd like to say?'

"It would've been nice if she consulted her second-in-command, but what's done is done."

"I told you she was going to be bringing a new person on pretty quick. A Vault Dweller. This is him." Santo said, passing the prototype to Doctor Carrington's hands. He brightened up for a moment and saw the expression on Nate's face.

"An extraordinary feat to recover this, but before you ask, no, I specialize in western medicine practices and pharmaceuticals, the honor of surgeon goes to our agent Doctor Ripper in the field."

"What exactly did we retrieve?" Nate asked, looking down to the chip in Carrington's hands.

"A rapid-data scrubber. It takes time for files on computers to be deleted, and even destroyed motherboards can still contain corrupted data that can be salvaged. This was to be a kill-switch that would wipe all servers clean, in the event of an attack, but now, it remains untested, as we've been rebuilding our network since the fall of the Switchboard. To test it now, would mean starting from scratch all over again if it does work, which we can not spare the time."

"So Desdemona said you might need a hand with something else?"

"I would've, but you already met with Old Man Stockton, yes? You ran an operation with him and H2-22, yes? How in the world did you accurately respond to the code phrase he gave you?"

"The Geiger Counter in the shop?" Nate inquired, holding up his pip-boy. "I thought he was being facetious, you know; joyful without dignity? I thought he was making a crack about my Pip-boy. That is not on me."

"Then why did you take the job, and help him then?"

"It was a job, and I was new in town looking for money and wanted to know what was going on around Bunker Hill beside the weather, and who was coming and going. So make of it what you will for me talking to the burger-meister."

"Regardless, the H2-22 situation is dealt with, and since the fall of the Switchboard, two other safehouses went dark."

"Where at?"

"You know of Ticonderoga, we appreciate that you didn't return there until after formally speaking with us." Santo said, "Augusta or the Massachusetts Bay Medical Center was one, Herkimer and Allen are both confirmed burned,"

Hancock was shaking his head, "Just how bad of shape is the Railroad, doc? Goodneighbor is practically a well-oiled machine compared to what I've been hearing in the last hour."

Santo and Doctor Carrington both gave grave looks, a sign of weariness passed between them, "We're lucky there's a Railroad at all. We're it. There are a few communities with allies and safe houses out in the Commonwealth, and even fewer beyond, but this fight is wearing thin on our numbers. If we don't act fast and strike hard with the information you've given us, then there is the strongest possibility the Institute already knows we are all here and are preparing a strike team as we speak to wipe us all out. Once the Church crumbles, the Railroad will be no more. There's always the chance scavengers come across our bodies and raise the flags we wave right now, but by then it will be far too late, and the Institute will be secure with its hold on the Commonwealth."

Looking around at the names and faces gathered under the Old North Church, fitfully shaking as they slept, worried that any loud noise was the announcement of their end, working on fumes, no luxuries here, no cots, just a ragtag team of individuals who all come together, but with two goals on their mind. One, free the synths, two, take down the Institute. Neither goal could be accomplished without completing the other.

Nate and Meathead felt the state of affairs in the Railroad headquarters and saw how well the two of them compared to the entire collective. "Hancock," Nate said, getting the ghoul's attention.

"Hmm?"

Nate tilted his head up, nodding towards the ceiling. Taking Meathead and Hancock upstairs to the church interior, Nate addressed the Railroad below.

\111/

"So that's the Railroad," Nate said.

"Yep," Hancock said as if Nate expected more.

"Well, shit. One puff of wind and the whole thing collapses. We've been better off ourselves, how long do you think before the Institute moves in?"

"<Given the fact that the Institute was probably tracking everyone as they scattered from the Switchboard, straight here, not long. They're going to have to pack up and move pretty darn quick.>"

"Should we put them up?" Nate asked

"<The Vault?>"

"Vault 75. It was a Gunner base in Malden until Curie and I cleared it out. There's Vault 114, too, closer and right under the Boston Common. Where the Triggermen set up, but it's not very practically designed."

"How would we convince the Railroad to move?" Hancock asked.

"I don't think it'll take much convincing, I think they'll prefer sleeping on top of beds rather than half-a millennia-old coffins."

"<Should we go back and tell them?>"

"Yes. Whether they want to move or not, I think they'll see Vault 75 up in Malden as a pretty strong opportunity. Or 114 as a safe bet. A step up, they can keep using Old North Church until it gets burned, not literally, but I hope it doesn't collapse, I'd want you to help me do a restoration on the place and whip it back into shape."

"<I wouldn't mind bringing a little life back into the old church.>" Meathead flicked his attention to below his feet. "<We got Deacon incoming.>" Switching to barking like a German Shephard, and sitting by Nate's side, Nate pet him and turned towards Hancock, pretending to only notice the creaking floorboards as Deacon ascended from the basement.

He flashed a smile and saw the pow-wow they were having, joining in. "Well, we're colorful and insane, but you're stuck with us."

"More like you're stuck with me, Deacon."

"Speaking of which, what are your plans for the next week? I'd like to get a good thing going and travel with you"

"Join the club," Hancock said.

"Yeah, join the club and get a free vault suit and a hot shower." Nate played off of Hancock's words. "How would you and the rest of the Railroad feel about getting the fuck out from underneath this church and into Vault 75 below the Malden Middle School? Free real-estate, Malden is Gunner and Mutant free as it can be, as of yesterday. There's Vault 114 too, plenty close to the center of the action, right in the middle of things. Knockdown a few walls, and you'll have escape tunnels into the metro and sewers leading all around Boston."

"I'll run it by Desdemona and Doctor Carrington, but after you let the quip about the synth-crows monitoring us, I don't think it'll be too hard to convince everyone to pack up and leave in a hurry. Dez is already is losing hair over the thought of the Institute tracking us from the Switchboard to here." Deacon replied.

"Huh, well, It's going to take a whole minute for everyone to pack up, but if you say Malden and Vault 114 are clear as they can be, we'll start sending out teams of people to take wide births and double-backing routes to get there by sometime this evening."

"Good plan. We're going to the Constitution, and loading up for our trip south. Oh, and Deacon, Why awfully look so tragic? Put on a happy face." Nate sang as he headed for the door.

"What the heck are you talking about?"

"Smiling can work like magic, put on a happy face...
Take off the gloomy mask of tragedy, it's not your style." Nate stood outside of the doorway, hands raised praising the sun shining down on top of him, brightening the Old North Church.
"You can spread sunshine all over the place.
Just put on a happy face!"

Hancock shook his head, rolling his eyes as he followed behind Nate and his dog out into the North End. Deacon stood there for a moment, watching the trio get swallowed up by the sunlight shining through the door before heading back downstairs to tell the Railroad it was time to pack up and move out.