Goodneighbor. What a shithole.
Surveying the town, if it could even be called such, Juliette tried to keep her expression blank. The trader (had her name really been Trashcan Carla?) had described it as a community of free spirits, free of the prejudices of Diamond City. It seemed obvious she'd gotten her hopes up a little too high, but the prospect of a community of living people had provoked a certain enthusiasm. She'd desperately needed to see this democratic remnant of civilization.
The reality didn't live up to her seemingly lofty expectations.
The security gate opened onto a small courtyard which housed a few shops, all in a state of considerable disrepair. Few had intact windows. Hell, few had intact roofs. Dilapidated benches lined a brick wall. Broken bottles, needles and other trash skittered across the uneven brick walkway, collecting in cracks and gutters. A few thugs, possibly part of a town guard, carried tommy guns and looked at her menacingly. It all reeked of piss and cheap liquor.
Fear started to gnaw at her. If this was the trader's idea of community, what would Diamond City look like? Nothing more than a group of ramshackle huts and oversized turrets? Was Shaun living in a place like this? Was nothing else left?
Her dissatisfied examination, masked though it was, caught the attention of a local. Easily six feet tall and thickly muscled, he waltzed over, clucking his tongue. Aware of his own size, he puffed his chest, leather jacket pulled tight across his biceps. A pistol hung out of the waistband of his jeans. His skin, blotchy and pock-marked, coupled with his dull eyes, marked him as a junkie.
"First time in Goodneighbor?" he asked, blocking her path. A cigarette hung from his lips. He took a drag and grinned.
"Maybe. Not my first time around the block though," she said, willing herself to sound bored. She'd seen grifters like this prewar. Always looking for an easy score.
"That so?" He chuckled, one hand straying to finger the handle of his pistol.
Her own fingers itched for the knife tucked in her pocket. She could see a couple of guards eyeing the scene with interest, but none made a move to intervene.
"A little bird like you's bound to get eaten up here. You can't just go walking around without insurance in these parts. Pay up and ol' Finn'll watch your back."
Ya, right. More like he'd watch her ass as she walked away and then come to hunt her down later for a piece. She knew how men like him worked. "How about this, Finn? Back off. I can handle myself. This your idea of hospitality in Goodneighbor?"
"What was that?" he asked, expression darkening. "I don't think you get it. Empty them pockets or accidents might start happenin'. Bloody accidents," he added, mouth twisting.
She watched his pistol carefully. It was tempting to just gut the bastard. Strung out as he was, there was no way he could untangle the gun and aim quick enough to defend himself. Wise asses like him always thought a gun made them invincible. He was wrong. But, she wasn't sure how his buddies in the guard would feel about it, and though her odds against him were quite favorable, it seemed unlikely she could best four men with automatic guns armed with only a knife and prayer. She began to question her decision to stash her other destructive goodies outside town.
Her lack of compliance was upsetting Finn, but any thoughts of violence were interrupted by a newcomer.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Time out. I'm disappointed, Finn. You know the rules. Someone steps through those gates the first time, they're a guest. That extortion crap isn't gonna fly." The voice was male, an odd mixture of rough and melodic. Dignified.
Finn stared her down for another moment, before giving his attention to the new guy. As he moved aside Juliette finally caught a glimpse. Her eyes widened, though she contained her surprise otherwise. This must have been one of the ghouls Preston had mentioned back in Sanctuary. The sane ones. His skin was rough and sunken, almost like a burn victim's. There wasn't any nose to speak of and his eyes were completely black. The muscles of his face stood out sharply. She wondered what his hands looked like. Did he have finger nails? But the rest was hidden underneath an elaborate outfit. He was dressed in replica clothing from the Revolutionary War, replete with a tri-corner hat, a ruffled shirt and a patriotic sash. Despite his appearance, or maybe because of it, he wore an easy smile. He seemed to be an ally, which was good enough for her. She would take what she could get now and worry about the details later.
"Why d'you care, Hancock? Not like she's one of us." His hand still hovered ominously on the butt of his pistol.
"Come on, Finn. No love for your mayor?" The ghoul grinned again, wider this time. "I said, let her go."
His smile enraged Finn, whose face reddened. Juliette slowly reached into her pocket, the cool handle of the knife a comfort.
"She ain't one of us! Fuck off!" He seethed, eyes narrowing. "You used to be real respectable, Hancock, but you're goin' soft. You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, there's gonna be trouble. Maybe soon there'll be a new mayor."
The ghoul, Hancock, kept smiling. "Finn, you wound me. This is me we're talking about." He placed a friendly hand on the man's shoulder. " I want to tell you something." Hancock's hand tightened and the color drained from the large man's face, the seriousness of his transgression finally dawning on him.
In a flash of light on steel, the ghoul produced a knife and sunk it into Finn's chest. Three quick motions with the knife, precise and efficient. The smile never left his lips. Juliette began to reconsider the term "ally". It looked like such arrangements might be temporary and hazardous where Hancock was concerned. He wiped the blade on Finn's jacket, and slid it back into his coat. He turned to her, opening his arms wide, as though nothing strange had happened.
"You looked like you had things under control, my friend, but a mayor's gotta make a point sometimes, ya dig? You all right?"
She eyed the dead man. A pool of his blood was spreading slowly across the bricks. A couple of the guards sniggered. Prudently, she determined it was best to make a good impression.
"I am, actually. I appreciate the help though," she said, offering a tight smile. It was the best she could muster.
"Glad to hear it, sister. Welcome to Goodneighbor. It's a town of the people, for the people. Everyone's welcome."
"That's… comforting to hear actually. I could use a friendly welcome. Hospitality seems to be in short supply in the Commonwealth."
Hancock chuckled. "And don't we know it. All the misfits and drifters that make up our little community came together for just that reason." He turned and gestured grandly to the buildings around them. "Nobody fucks with Goodneighbor. We stick together here."
He surveyed his kingdom, and Juliette tried to see it through his eyes. What did Goodneighbor look like to him? Did he really see a friendly neighborhood? If so, her idea of friendly must have grown outdated over the years. It clashed mightily with the blood pooling at her feet. "You'll be making friends in no time," he said with a cheeky wink. "So long as you remember who's in charge…"
With one last look, he set off down a nearby alley, speaking over his shoulder. "Once you've done your trading, stop by the State House. I'd like to hear just what it is that brought a lady like you to my fair town."
Juliette watched him saunter off, feeling equal parts relief and anxiety. It didn't seem like an invitation that could be ignored.
