It was a cold day on the waterfront. The wind coming in from the north brought the cold down from New England and Canada beyond it. On one of the half ruined docks Hancock the ghoul, Mayor of Goodneighbor was slowly waking up after a week long bender involving enough drugs to satisfy all the rest of Goodneighbor in his place. Sitting up he raised up the near empty bottle of whiskey still clutched in his hand and drained it of his last drops with a happy sigh.
"Now that's a weekend for you."
Opening his eyes finally to see the seagulls above before sitting up and looking around to see that the docks and the water beyond him.
"Damn. I must have used more than I planned. Still worth it though."
He said ending the muttered words to himself with a smile as he raised a hand to his ghoulified face and rubbing at his face for a second before slowly making his way to his feet. He did find himself surprised that no one had tried robbing him yet. The docks were usually rife with scavengers. And Mayor of Goodneighbor or not usually at least one scavenger was willing to take the risk.
The more he thought about that thought the more he became confused. Particularly since he realized there was no sign of life anywhere. Not scavengers, fishermen, or even raiders were visible. He grit his teeth. Hancock had been living in the commonwealth long enough to know that if all the locals were out of sight it meant something big went down. The trick was to figure out what. Tossing his empty bottle to the side in the water he staggered forward back towards the city. In between the towering buildings it became clear that the absence of life extended beyond just the harbor. There wasn't a sound. Not even the roar of far off super mutants which made the ghoulified flesh of Hancock's spine tingle. Chem addict or not the ghoul had lived long enough to have a highly developed danger sense and his was going off like crazy. He pulled a revolver from beneath his signature red cloak that hid the holster. The chromed steel barrel shined in the morning light as he moved forward cautiously. He wasn't far from Goodneighbor and figured it was best he get back and talk to the drifters to get some answers. The town he was mayor to was just one more block west and two blocks north. A short walk, one that hopefully would be free of trouble. But instinct told him to head to Faneuil Hall he wasn't sure why. But he knew fully well to follow his instincts. They'd kept him alive this long. They'd keep him alive longer still.
Making the route change from Goodneighbor to Faneuil was easy enough. He kept going quiet and easy which was good because there was still no sign of any living thing, or not living thing since there weren't any machines moving about either. The last time Hancock had felt the city this still was the night the Minutemen and their General, his old friend, had taken on the Institute and then the Brotherhood of Steel. The city had been silent as the war waged for Boston's future that night. And now it was just as silent and that sent a fresh shiver down Hancock's spine.
He finally reached a vantage point after several more minutes of creeping amidst the towering ruined buildings, that he could take at the square infront of Faneuil Hall, and what he saw stopped him cold in his tracks. The square had clearly been the sight of a massacre. But what chilled him to the bone was the bodies lying in the square. They were Operators. Members of one of the two gangs that came out of Nuka World to the west and terrorized the commonwealth. At the same time that Nathan and his Minutemen had been dealing with saving the city there was another person who'd set up shop out west and created a raider force the likes of which was unrivalled anywhere except for the Pitt. In the years since the Minutemen had been hard pressed to hold back the raiders that had attacked settlement after settlement. The unfortunate reality was that without the tech of the Brotherhood and the Institute in the aftermath the Minutemen had been pressed to the breaking point to deal with the raiders coming from the west. Their stronghold in Nuka-world was unassailable just as much as their beachhead and forward base at the monorail station. Hancock had been with Nathan on that day when the two of them plus Preston Garvey and some of the Minutemen's best soldiers, Nick Valentine, and Piper Wright had all tried attacking that base. Their attack had almost succeeded. They'd taken the station and were in the process of blowing up the monorail when they'd been ambushed, not by a train but by a second group that had made the hike over the mountains and had been lying in wait. The Minutemen standing guard outside were cut down to a man. Trapped within Hancock and the others had no choice but to surrender to the Bitch herself following a short negotiation between Nathan and the Bitch.
They'd been allowed to leave with their lives because the Bitch had known just how much influence each of them in that group. The General of the Minutemen, his second in command, a Reporter, and the Mayor of Goodneighbor, plus a Synth that would never die? As people capable of carrying back a story went it was a pretty damn good selection. So they'd left with tails between their legs. And ever since then Nuka World had raided where they wished as they wished. The Minutemen still fought them as they could but with the Raider's base and supplyline unassailable they'd been forced into a defensive fight ever since.
But now Hancock was looking at what had to be an easy thirty or forty dead Operators strewn about the square. That sight in and of itself was shocking given that there were no other bodies to indicate who had done the killing. But that wasn't what had Hancock paralyzed. It was the sight of the corpse that was hanging from the side of Faneuil Hall. Stripped naked a dead red haired woman had been crucified. She hung from where her hands had been nailed to a wooden cross, her feet both nailed in as well. She wasn't moving. She had to be dead. But Hancock couldn't help but stare.
It was the Bitch herself.
He slowly made his way forward transfixed by the sight. He no longer tried hiding his movements. He didn't even consider the thought. A woman more deadly The Man out of Time himself was hanging there dead. As he got close he was sure it was her. He'd only seen her the one time those years before but he was positive. She hadn't aged a day as far as he could tell. Stopping right before the building he stood their transfixed by the sight of the strung up woman. Her skin was perfect in its perfection. Pale from years of hiding her skin beneath armor from the harsh sun. But Hancock was surprised by the number of scars that marked her body. From a massive set across her belly that almost certainly came from a deathclaw to numerous scars that were clearly from knives and bullets. There were even some old burn scars. All of them were long healed. She hung there dead and after half an hour of just standing there looking at her scarred corpse he finally walked away a smile on the edge of his face. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out an inhaler loaded with Jet and took a hit. Today was going to be a damn good day!
Days later Hancock was walking the streets and noticed a number of scavengers selling their haul just inside the gates of Goodneighbor. Not surprisingly to a man they all had loot from the massacre from the weekend before in their wares. Hancock took a look through and ended up buying his share of chems like everyone else. He was about to leave when he noticed one of the traders had something unusual amidst their wares. A beat up leather book. Curious he walked over and picked it up opening it and turning it to the first page. It was a journal that had apparently belonged to one Serenity James. Hancock figured she had to have been one of the Operators. It was a weird thing to have on a hard bitten raider but there were far weirder things. He paid two caps for it and took it and his new drugs back to the State House to get high and have a read. Who knew what he might find within those pages. It might just be some ordinary diary, it might even not belong to one of the raiders for all he knew. But if he was lucky and it did then maybe just maybe it'd tell him a weakness that he could hand over to the Minutemen to deal with the Nuka World raiders once and for all.
Heading upstairs into the statehouse he lounged out on the couch took a mentat and a hit of jet, that perfect mix for reading. He was smarter and more relaxed. It made this stuff so much more fun. And opening it to the first entry he began to read.