Amber drug herself through the doors of the Third Rail, her joints stiff and her armour caked in dirt and dried blood, only about half of it her own. Piper followed in behind her, clutching her press cap close to her chest. Amber slumped onto a stool at the bar, dropping her head onto her arms and sighing.

"If you ain't here to order, you can get out. This ain't a hotel, darling." The Mr. Handy behind the bar droned in a thick Cockney accent. Amber sighed again and raised her head slightly.

"Whatever's cheap." She growled, her voice thick with radiation sickness and dust. Piper stood close to the raven haired singer in the corner, mesmerized. Amber couldn't help but chuckle slightly.

Two large men stomped past her into a back room. She had heard that there was a mercenary for hire around here, maybe she could swing a little help with finding the man that took Shaun and killed...Nate. A lump still caught in her throat even thinking his name.

The Mr Handy a bar patron referred to as Charlie slid a drink toward her which she accepted gladly. She downed the burning liquid in one gulp, shook her head and stood, pain still throbbing through her beaten body. Piper was still in awe of the local talent, so Amber tossed a few caps onto the bar to pay for her drink, adjusted her .50 on her back and walked toward the back room.

The two large men she'd seen enter were talking to a shorter, younger guy in a long duster.

"Why don't you take your girlfriend and walk out of here while you still can?" The younger boy said, glaring at them with what she was sure was meant to be menacing, but his slight size compared to the behemoths in front of him didn't quite pull it off. Amber leaned against the door frame and waited.

"Winlock, tell me we don't have to listen to this shit..." one of the men grumbled to his companion.

"Listen up, MacCready. The only reason we haven't filled your body full of bullets is that we don't want a war with Goodneighbor. We respect other people's boundaries. We know how to play the game, something you never learned." The man she now knew as Winlock glowered at MacCready, who, to his credit, didn't seem phased by it in the slightest.

"Glad to have disappointed you." MacCready retorted. Amber stifled a chuckle.

"You can play tough guy all you want, but if we hear you're still operating inside Gunner territory, all bets are off. You got that?" Winlock eyed MacCready, obviously hoping for some response from the boy, but MacCready held his gaze.

"You finished?" MacCready spat.

"Yeah, we're finished. Come on, Barnes." Barnes and Winlock stomped back out to the main floor of the bar. MacCready seemed to wait until they were out of eyesight before slumping onto the couch at the back of the room, letting his head fall onto his hands with a sigh.

Amber walked over to the boy, bending over slightly to peer into his face.

"You okay, kid?" she asked softly. MacCready seemed to just realise she was there because he jumped slightly before leaping to his feet.

"Look lady. If you're preaching about Atom, or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun, then maybe we can talk."

Piper entered the room then, a huge grin plastered on her face.

"That Magnolia...man! Hey, who's your new friends, Blue?" Amber reached into the rear pocket of her chest piece and pulled out a small leather pouch.

"Okay, how much?" MacCready eyed the satchel of caps almost hungrily.

"250, non negotiable." He said firmly, holding her hot copper eyes with his own.

"Everything is negotiable. 200 caps." She held the pouch out to him while he held her stare. He took this moment to look her over. Her green brown eyes were large on her face, almost too big. Her nose was small and really round. Her lips were dark, set in what seemed like a permanent pout. The thing he noticed the most was her skin. Pale, soft and somehow still clean, despite the obvious days of dirty and blood. Her long, wavy brown hair was combed and in place under her newsy was too clean for this wasteland.

She wore a long black coat, wrapped tightly around her wide hips where her left hand now rested. Her head was tilted slightly as she awaited his answer, peering at him from over her black rimmed glasses.

"All right. Looks like you hired yourself a gun. Let's head out, boss." He took the satchel of caps from her and jammed it into the pocket of his duster.