Chapter One

MacCready was alone, with only a carton of cigarettes and a bottle of vodka to keep him company. He was used to this way of life, even if it meant his body suffered from it. None of it mattered anymore, he figured. It wasn't like it ever did matter. The world had long ended before his life began twenty-three years ago. Now it was all about survival, so MacCready had attempted to make the most of it. He tried to carve a life for himself and the people he cared about, but it was all a feeble attempt. As long as he had remembered, the world was an irradiated, unforgiving place that ate guys like him for breakfast.

He draped his slender body on a sofa, in the VIP lounge of the Third Rail. Goodneighbor was on the same crime spree since he'd made the town his home a few months ago, but it was really the only place he could go.

He shakily lit a cigarette and held it in between his teeth, when a gun jolted him forward.

After the initial shock, he wasn't startled. Instead, he was annoyed. Winlock and Barnes were standing in front of him, acting much tougher than they actually were. He wished it could be the same way for all gunners, or else he wouldn't be in this mess.

"I was wondering how long it would take your bloodhounds to track me down, Winlock." He addressed, the cigarette still positioned in between his teeth. He didn't flinch as the gun was in his face. This wasn't the first time a gun was pointed at him, and it wouldn't be the last, "It's been almost three months. Don't tell me you're getting rusty."

He remembered the rifle on his back, and wondered if it was time to put it to use, "Should we take this outside?"

Winlock was a gruff, ugly man anyways, but the facial tattoos didn't do him any favors, "It ain't like that. I'm just here to deliver a message."

MacCready was growing tired of this; tired of trying to fight men like the two standing in front of him. Tired of always losing. He stood up, but since he was relatively short he couldn't make perfect eye contact with the large men, "In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good."

They gave the same threats as they always did. They warned him that they would fill his body with bullets if he kept taking jobs in the Commonwealth. While they were up in his face, demanding things they would never receive, MacCready heard someone that wasn't either gunner.

"Are you sure you want to…" The male's voice trailed off as soon as it started, so MacCready assumed this person had taken the hint that the lounge was occupied and left. At least, that was what he hoped.

When the conversation with Winlock and Barnes was over, MacCready glanced up to see a very attractive woman standing in the doorway with an odd, machine-like man behind her. The two gunners hadn't quite left the room yet, so they thought it would be a wise idea to see what kind of chance they had with the beauty.

"Turn around so I can see that tight little ass of yours," Winlock growled, reaching to grab her butt.

The woman was not phased at all, but instead caught his wrist and gave it a painful twist, "How about you turn your little ass right on out of here before I use it for target practice?"

The robotic man's voice matched up with the one MacCready had heard a couple of moments earlier, which caused a lump to form in the back of his throat, "You don't want to pick a fight with this woman, fellas." The man agreed, tugging on his trench coat with a metal hand.

The gunners left without a fight, and MacCready hoped that these two peculiar strangers would follow their lead. All he wanted to do was drink alone in the only room of the Third Rail that wasn't overflowing with bar fights and overdosing drifters. But this woman and her robot were still here, and she approached him with no intention of flirtation. This was somewhat of a letdown, because he was hoping that if he made any contact with her it would result in a good time.

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

She studied him with intense, somewhat crazed blue eyes. She was slightly taller than him, but more curvaceous, "Luckily for you, I need exactly that."

The robot's wires were almost coming out of its head, but that didn't seem to faze him. He interjected, "Is this going to be the sort that you take up with?"

She turned towards him, running her fingers through her short dark brown locks in a way that MacCready tried not to find alluring, "Always so protective of me, Nick. Even when I've saved your sorry metal behind too many times to count."
His glowing yellow eyes flickered. "Since I know you can only communicate with aggression I'll let that slide. But as your friend I am concerned about your well-being," He argued.

She arched her brow. MacCready noticed how she appeared to be analyzing every single detail before speaking, "I understand Nick, but you said yourself that you need to go back to Diamond City to take care of things with the agency. I'd rather hire a merc than aimlessly explore the Commonwealth by myself."

He let out a sigh, even though MacCready was certain that robots didn't need to breath. Still, Nick seemed to be more human than the few other machines he'd come across, "Okay, just keep your healthy cynicism. I don't trust this one with the reputation he has."

MacCready rolled his eyes. It seemed he couldn't go to feet without his reputation being brought up. Sure, he wasn't the nicest guy, but he wasn't a monster. He just happened to have a talent with a sniper rifle.

She gave him a wry yet beautiful smile, "You know me Nick, I always will. Head out when you're ready. There's probably a desperate wife trying to track down their cheating husband somewhere."

A chuckle escaped his mouth, as he pulled his human friend into a quick hug. He'd never seen a robot hug a human before. It was almost as if he didn't know he was a machine, but instead a man trapped in a metallic figure, "There always is. Take care of yourself, my dear. Don't do anything too crazy."
He exited the room, which left MacCready alone with the mysterious woman, "I'm curious about who those assholes were." She spoke quizzically, her arms crossed.
He informed her about the Gunners and briefly went over a couple bullet points of his current situation, even though he knew even disclosing that much information was a risk. He didn't know what kind of person she was, and that could jeopardize his chance of employment. She didn't seem deterred by any of this, however. This could've been another cause for concern. She appeared to be stoic, calculated. She struck him as a femme fatale of sorts, who was more than willing to make him her next victim.

"What about you?" He asked her, "How do I know I won't end up with a bullet in my back?"
Her full, pink lips formed a wicked grin, "You don't. That's part of the risk, right? However, if I pay good money to hire you, wouldn't it be a bit stupid of me to gun you down? I could do that for free if I really wanted to, hotshot."

There were a few bad things that could be said about this woman. She seemed aggressive, manipulative, begging for trouble, but she was much smarter than anyone else in Goodneighbor, "Can't argue with that," he took a breath, trying to keep eye contact instead of checking out the gorgeous body that was underneath her road leathers, "I'll tell you what. Price is 250 caps… up front. And there's no room for bargaining."

She narrowed her eyes, converting her voice into a sultry purr, "Everything's negotiable. How about two hundred? If I end up liking you I'll give you a generous cut of whatever I make."
He tried to study this woman half as intently as she was studying him. He wanted to stand his ground, but this woman was just too hot to handle. He needed to remain professional. He saw how she handled those gunner goons, and she also had an arsenal strapped on her back, "You drive a hard bargain, but you just bought yourself an extra gun, boss."

She laughed a bit, "Don't flatter me with pleasantries. Call me Alice. Let's get out of this dump before another one of the gunners comes back for your debt."

He just nodded, as he figured this would be a strictly business relationship. He wouldn't call her Alice. He would call her boss, just as he had called all his other clients. It didn't matter that she was a pretty girl, because he was getting paid for his services. It wasn't like they'd ever be friends.

He had never been more wrong.