What if: Jayd has no recollections nor any memories of her past. Just a blank space of what should've been a lifetime of memories of her Pre-War Life. Living off her days as a freelance mercenary with exceptional skills, Jayd thought she would live and die by the job or the variety she has made through the jobs. However, meeting a certain red-coated journalist changes things. Things that weren't meant to be uncovered.
"Oi! Girly, you're in our seats!"
Whitechapel Charlie had witnessed a variety of trouble in all the years he had served as The Third Rail's bartender. Some were caused just because a bloke so stupidly drunk he ended tumbling over someone's table and spilling their drinks. Others were just because someone needed a good ol' bar brawl to get the blood flowing. But none where the victim decided to walk right into it willy-nilly, unless you're a Triggerman, that is. The four young blokes before him gave off an obvious air of arrogance. They wore their flashy suits and vests, which marked them as members of the Triggermen gang. If it wasn't obvious enough, two of out of the four had the familiar submachine guns strapped to their backs. The signature weapon of mostly every Triggermen the Mr. Handy had seen bear, on the occasion they trampled around his bar with their "all high and mighty" attitudes.
Unfortunately, for them, they had chosen the wrong night to slink out of their hidey-holes.
Seemingly unaffected by the group of four men crowding around her, the hooded figure tilted their head back and downed the shot with ease. They were lounging on a red couch with the capacity of seating three people. There was a small coffee table before them, a rectangular shape. Their booted feet were propped on the wooden surface, beside one whole bottle of whiskey. Although, at this point, Charlie wagered it was already half empty. The special guest of Goodneighbor had been here for quite some time, savoring whatever radiated piss was left of the whiskey.
Surrounding the table were two other cushion chairs meant for one single person. The seats were usually meant for people who held some sort of authority, especially if they're within the personal good graces of Goodneighbor's mayor himself. Unbeknownst to the rowdy bunch, the very person they were harassing just so happened to be one of the few people the mayor considered a "friend."
Normally, Charlie would do something about it, maybe even call Ham down from the front entrance to take care of it personally. Despite his ghoulish appearance, some fresh skins always underestimated just how strong he truly was. However, from his right bulbous eye, he spotted a familiar ginger with one side of her scalp shaved.
The familiar trademark of a certain bodyguard.
Fahrenheit glanced at him out of her corner of her eyes and raised her glass, as a gesture of greeting. If the mayor's bodyguard was here, that meant there was a mayoral business going about, although Charlie has yet to figure out what and why.
"Hey! Are you listeni—"
Crash!
From one of his three other bulbous eyes, he noticed that the same hooded figure had grabbed the neck of the whiskey bottle, standing up in quick succession, and smashing it against the brute leading the pack. It didn't take long for that one to collapse onto the floor in a heap of limp limbs. For a brief moment, there was nothing but shocked silence as everyone slowly came to terms of what just happened and the chaos that was going to follow afterward. The next, few moments were nothing but flurry of chaos as the Triggermen as they recovered from the sudden attack. The remaining three began to bark threats at hooded figure, reaching behind them for their weapons.
They decided to use the few, precious seconds they may have, whipping out a .44 Pistol, its elongated barrel gleaming slightly under the dim lighting. Before the remaining Triggermen could brandish their submachine guns, three, booming shots from a revolver ended their lives. All three blokes had identical bullet holes on either their neck, eye, or forehead as they fell to the floor limp. Their lives snuffed out and neither one were even given the chance to blink, let alone breath one last word.
"I hope you're planning on paying for the cleaning services," Charlie drawled.
They let out a soft scoff, pulling the cowl of their hood back, revealing a pair of piercing, blue eyes gazing at him with friendly familiarity.
"Just put it on my tab, Charlie. I'll pay you back after my next job."
The young woman had short blonde hair, pale blue eyes that seemed to have seen it all. He had seen the times where those eyes held nothing but a cold rage. An intensity that seemed to catch their singing Goddess' interest. Thankfully, the sparkling woman was more into her singing than wanting to be committed to a singular person. He watched as the bar's esteemed guest slipped the pistol back into its holster tucked underneath her left arm, hidden underneath her jacket.
"Don't worry about it," Fahrenheit said, approaching the one Triggerman who had survived the encounter. "The boys and I can get this cleaned up, Whitechapel." She lightly kicked his arm with her boot, causing the young man to groan softly. "It's about time the Triggermen get the message about trying to mess around Goodneighbor without the mayor's approval."
A twitch of their lips almost turned into a smirk. "Going soft on me, Fahrenheit? You've never tried to pay a piece of my tab before."
The ginger haired bodyguard smirked, rolling her eyes with a rare show of amusement. "Well, it just so happens you've already begun a job the mayor needed done without even knowing it. But the mayor needs you to do something more important than just killing off a bunch of guys trying to win a power play."
This seem to pique the young woman's attention. "This should be interesting."
Fahrenheit nodded. "Word around the street is Bobbi No-Nose has been stirring up some trouble. More likely trying to recruit a couple of idiots to help her make a quick score—on the mayor's storeroom."
Which explains why I haven't seen that nosy lass around, Charlie thought, casually wiping one of the drinking glasses.
"We don't know why she's trying to get into the storeroom, but on a hunch, it's nothing good. Call it a favor," Fahrenheit continued. "A personal favor from Mayor Hancock himself."
The blonde haired merc seemed to contemplate the offer, at first, remaining silent for a few, brief moments. At this point, some of the customers had already went back to minding their own business. A couple few glanced a few curious glances over their shoulders every now and then to eavesdrop on Fahrenheit and Jayd's conversation. Magnolia had resumed singing her jazzy tunes, as if nothing had happened. Or the fact a couple of corpses were just lying on the floor, bleeding.
"Alright," she finally said. "Got any leads on Bobbi?"
"Other than she hasn't been seen in Goodneighbor lately? This is where your mercenary skills come in handy, my friend. I'd try Diamond City, lots of desperate going around there looking for a quick pay up of caps."
The blonde mercenary frowned slightly. "You know; I'm hated there – most specifically by the mayor of the very city itself.
"Trust me, I think this one would be worth your time," Fahrenheit chuckled softly, wrapping her arm around Jayd's shoulders and leading her towards the bar. "Now, I think I owe you another bottle."
"Anymore mayoral business I need to know about, before I bring out the good stuff, Miss Bodyguard?" Charlie asked. It'd be a waste if the drinks were to be used as weapons rather than actually being used for beverages.
The two most dangerous women sat side by side with each other, only an arm's reach of distance between them. The story behind the two were just as mysterious as to how they became "dangerous" in the first place. Word on the street was that their esteemed guest was someone of unknown origin, only that she came around a couple years back, doing various odd jobs here and there so as long as it paid well. Some of those odd jobs seem to have the caught the attention of the locals of both Goodneighbor and Diamond City. One of those odd jobs had the tale that the blonde mercenary had single-handedly went into a Super Mutant stronghold and slaughtered most of the towering, green beasts that occupied the building. No one knew the reason why, only that it was one of the many jobs that made the rounds.
Nonetheless, Charlie didn't like to be brown-noser and kept his business to himself. It certainly kept his circuits from getting fried or soaked in the first place.
"No worries, Chapel. That's all the action your bar will be getting for the rest of the evening," Fahrenheit reassured.
"So," Whitechapel Charlie began. "Miss Jayd, anything specific you'd like or would you like to resume your preferred poison of whiskey?"
Jayd shook her head. "Just give us a round of the good stuff. I'll take the bottle of whiskey on the road."
"Drinks and the bottle is on the house, by the by," Fahrenheit added.
Charlie squinted one of his bulbous eyes at the mayor's bodyguard, while his mechanical arms set a row of five shot glasses before the pair. "You are suspiciously in a generous mood, Miss Bodyguard."
The hardened woman shrugged one shoulder. "I think I owe our local mercenary here a couple of drinks. After all, we are sending her after Bobbi No-Nose."
Jayd chuckled softly. "Is she that much of a handful?"
Whitechapel Charlie poured a bottle of rum into the row of shot glasses. "She just sticks her non-existent nose where it shouldn't be. Thus, attracting trouble and causin' complications for the rest of us."
Jayd took the first shot, tipping her head back and downing the slightly, radiated substance with ease. "Sounds like any other complication living and walking about the Commonwealth."
One corner of Fahrenheit's lips twitched into a smirk. "She just thinks she's clever than most and cunning than the rest."
Don't we all try to outsmart one another? Charlie thought as he went back into cleaning one of the glasses. No one was willing to stick around by the bar since Fahrenheit had made her presence known and no one in their right mind would try and mess with Jayd for the rest of the evening. Fahrenheit's boys had already taken care of corpses and the only surviving punk of tonight's roughhousing group. One of them had stayed behind and was in the midst of mopping up the pools of blood left behind.
"So, Miss Jayd, anything interesting tales you'd like to share?" Charlie asked.
Jayd downed her second shot, placing the shot glass face down. "I got enough to keep the audience interested. Let's see…oh, there was this one job…"
Jayd left the Third Rail bar late into the night. Goodneighbor never slept, at least the trouble that tends to slink back no matter how many times it gets taken "care" of. It was one of the many reasons her good ol' friend, Hancock, decided to create a Neighborhood Watch to keep the peace. Whatever definition of "peace" the locals of Goodneighbor used these days.
One of the Neighborhood Watchers posted nearby greeted her. "Evenin' Miss Jayd. Gonna head on to the Hotel?"
"Not tonight, Watcher. There's some business I need to get started on," she replied. "Know where I could find Bobbi No-Nose's place?"
The Watcher was silent for a moment, as if contemplating her question. "Oh, so Fahrenheit did ask you to take care of her, eh?"
"Looks like I'm the only one who could, if her reputation precedes her."
The Watcher let out a dry chuckle. "What reputation? She's just a lass that causes unnecessary trouble for the rest of us," he said. "Anyways, her place is just around the corner on your right, down the narrow alley way between the Kl-e-o's 'Kill or Be Killed' and the warehouses. It's the blue metal door on the far end."
Jayd nodded gratefully, following the Watcher's directions to Bobbi's place. At the end of the 'L' shaped alleyway, there was the blue door she was looking for. Just like the Watcher said, Bobbi's place was on the far end of the alley. The only detail he forgot to mention it was a heavy, metal double door leading to what was once possibly an old apartment. As far as Jayd could remember, no one else in Goodneighbor had a metal door to their homes. She shrugged at the thought as she made her way towards the door, knowing a woman like Bobbi No-Nose has her own secrets. Unfortunately, it seems, that the said woman in question liked to nose in on other people's secrets too.
Once she was the near the metal door, Jayd glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one – Watcher or no – had followed her. She trusted Hancock, Fahrenheit, and Whitechapel Charlie well enough but not anyone else. Once she was sure that it was safe, she turned the metal knob, expecting it to come to a sudden halt to indicate it was locked.
But it didn't.
Instead, the door gave a slight click, meaning the latch bolt was pulled back, allowing her to the push the door open. The metal door groaned and creaked softly as she stepped inside, her pistol on her other hand. The place was eerily quiet and Jayd didn't want to take her chances of something coming out of the shadows to ambush her.
The home that was Bobbi No-Nose's was just a typical post-apocalyptic home; stone rubble here and there, barely any furniture to even make the place cozy. Jayd doubted there would be any other person living in the former apartment other Bobbi than herself, at least that was what she could guess from Fahrenheit's brief description of the woman she would be hunting after. Shutting the door behind her with a light kick from her leg, Jayd observed what was supposedly the living room. There wasn't much, other than a couch on the far left side of the room, a small side table with a couple of empty bottles of rum, and a dirty ashtray. Other than that, there were two flights of stairs leading either up another floor or down the other. Much like a fork in the road, Jayd decided to go up instead of going down the staircase. If there was nothing in the upper floors, she would head back down. If she was ever cornered into a trap, Jayd had at least the option of jumping out of the window, broken leg or no.
Step by step, Jayd ascended the stair leading to the upper floor, her pistol pointed and aim in front of her, her forefinger just hovering over the trigger. As she rounded the first corner, Jayd planted one foot on the first step but stopped there. She waited – listened – for any movement or sounds coming from the floor before her.
A few minutes went by in stiff silence and Jayd was prepared to lower her gun slightly when –
"Put the gun down, chief. Nothing's gonna hurt ya' here."
A voice, deep and growly. One that Jayd was all too familiar with. Despite the reassurance, Jayd kept her pistol on hand as she climbed the stairs, finding herself in Bobbi No-Nose's bedroom. Within her peripheral view, Jayd spotted a tall figure, dawned in a grimy leather jacket, with a metal arm guard strapped onto his left shoulder and extended down to the bicep. The man had a clean shaven head, while what remained of his hair stayed neatly trimmed around his jaws. It only made the scar across his left eye more prominent.
Kellogg let out a small puff of smoke between his lips, the cigarette stick hanging by the corner of his mouth. He gave a slight nod as a greeting. "Jayd."
Jayd lowered her gun, before holstering it. "Kellogg."
She and Kellogg had a shared history. They had many differences, especially when they used to work on topside operations together or whatever job HQ needed done.
"Had fun at the bar?" Kellogg asked.
Jayd crossed her arms, ignoring the question. "Funny seeing you here. I thought you'd still be at Fort Hagen."
Huffing one last smoke, Kellogg puffed it the following moment before flicking the cigarette bud away. "Had some business to take care of. I was around the area when I asked a passing courier where you've been."
One side of Jayd's lips twitched. "Didn't peg you to be the stalking type, Kegs."
Kellogg let out a chuckle, dry and humorless. "Trust me, I wouldn't have wasted my time trying to find you if it wasn't urgent."
Jayd watched as he grabbed a small duffel bag she hadn't noticed before – too busy trying not to get ambushed – that was or had been sitting on the wooden table beside him. With a simple flick from his wrist, the bag sailed through the air and Jayd caught it in her arms. Though she nearly dropped the moment she felt something…warm and solid inside of it. The smell of flesh and blood also did not escape Jayd's notice as she tucked the bag on the crook of her left arm. She looked at it curiously before her gaze flicked back to Kellogg's, a questioning look in her eyes.
Kellogg merely shrugged. "Just be thankful I got out of your way. That whole business with Goodneighbor's mayor? Nothin' to worry about now."
The words were said in such a nonchalant tone that it nearly fooled Jayd to think he was just messing around with her and this bag held nothing but the fleshy remains of whatever the Super Mutants made breakfast, lunch, or dinner out of. Yet, curiosity got the best of her as she slowly pulled back the zipper…
As much as there was history between her and Kellogg, Jayd had been familiar enough with the other mercenary's methods of getting the job done. She didn't know much about his past nor did he ever spilled the beans about it while they had worked together previously. It still shouldn't have surprised her that Kellogg wouldn't suddenly just "mellow out" and stop a few certain antics.
No, that would be wishful thinking.
Jayd cringed. She had only opened the bag's opening halfway through, but she could already guess the contents of the bag; what it had been carrying this entire time. The small opening revealed a head – not just anyone's head – but the very person that she was supposed to go looking for at first light.
"She was sneaking about," Kellogg chuckled. "Tailing me. I let her corner me into an alley to see what the fuss was about. She started questioning me about the people we worked for. Even mentioned your name here and there, threatened to spill the truth about you."
Jayd pursed her lips, zipping the small duffel bag up once more. "Let me guess, you did what had to be done?"
"Well, couldn't exactly let her snitch about us, can't we?"
She felt sick to her stomach, the familiar nauseous feeling she would get as she imagined what the poor woman suffered under Kellogg's hands. It didn't have to end that way, but it did, and goddammit, it had to be Kellogg of all people to end someone's life in such a gruesome manner. Jayd could only hope it was quick and painless.
"I could already tell you're ready to nag at me again for killing her off like that, so I'll end our little impromptu meeting with one more thing to say," Kellogg reached into his jacket, taking out a small data pad from his inner breast pocket. The small screen glowed with a dim, blue hue. "HQ wants you to investigate someone else. A local of Diamond City, runs a newspaper joint. Apparently, she's been suspicious of McDonough of being a synth. While there hasn't been any physical proof to show for it, we should still keep our grounds covered."
Kellogg tossed her the data pad. Jayd caught it with her free hand.
"Target's name is Piper Wright. HQ doesn't any have recommended actions towards her yet, but if her suspicions are spot on with our assumptions…well, you know what to do."
Jayd didn't say anything, there was nothing to say. Orders from HQ was rare these days and the fact they had Kellogg deliver it to her instead of her usual courier meant her original mission still remained the same. She would just have to deal with this small dilemma along the way.
With that, Kellogg gave her a mock salute as he started walking towards the stairs. "Good hunting, my friend."
P.S. Hope you guys enjoy! I updated the content; plot's still the same, I'm just going at it at a different angle.