It had been close to three months since Nate and Hancock parted ways just south of the Dunwich Borers Quarry. The place had been crawling with raiders and ferals in equal measure, and clearing it out had left them both exhausted and honestly a bit spooked.
Nate casually mentioned he could go for a little down time, and that he thought he ought to check in with a minuteman by the name of Preston, who was apparently holding down the fort in some place called Sanctuary. Hancock agreed that it sounded like a good call but told Nate that he hadn't quite managed to scratch the itch he had set out to take care of when he left Goodneighbor. He needed more time on the road. They agreed to meet again sometime later after Hancock assured Nate that he had plenty of contacts that could track him down and pass a message along to him from just about anywhere in the Commonwealth. All he had to do was ask around Goodneighbor.
For a slightly backwards pre-war solider Nate was a stand-up guy, so Hancock made a mental note to keep tabs on him when possible.
Since their split Hancock had started working his way south west, towards Bunker Hill, to see if it had changed much since his last visit. He spent several nights in an all ghoul settlement simply referred to as The Slog sleeping in some sort of work shed and getting stoned into oblivion. After that he stopped to poke around the Saugus Iron place but quickly discovered that the raiders that had taken up there were not to be taken lightly. He thought it best if he took a pass on this fight.
The road wasn't easy alone, but Hancock had faced it plenty of times before. Mostly it was lonely. He had grown so accustomed to the low hum of Goodneighbor, he had forgotten just how quiet nighttime in the wasteland could be. However, he wasn't the type to get himself down over small things like that, so he buried his thoughts in more chems.
According to the last known date on Nate's Pip-Boy it was just about mid-January and the weather was starting to show it. The nights had been getting colder for weeks and Hancock had to admit he missed the warmth of the state house now, but he wasn't ready to return just yet. Instead he found a heavier coat of gray coarse wool in a barely standing barn and began to wear it to combat the cold. Later he looted a high quality hooded gas mask from a now dead raider to keep the bitter wind off his ears. His treasured frock coat and tricorn hat had to be packed away for sunnier days. Now he looked no different than any other shady drifter roaming the Commonwealth, and he had to admit, it was a bit fun.
One night when the wind was particularly harsh Hancock scrambled into a mostly intact building to bed down for the night. To his surprise instead of encountering the usual ferals or raiders he found a couple of traveling ghouls, who welcomed him into their fold and offered to share their fire. They chatted amiably for a while about the lousy weather and the latest news on the institute. They hadn't recognized him as the fearsome mayor of Goodneighbor and that was fine by him. Out on the road, he simply wanted to be John. What good would getting away do if everyone continued to treat him like "the man" all the time? No, these ghouls had simply wanted to show a fellow traveler some kindness. That was the face of the Commonwealth he had wanted to see.
Neither of them batted an eye when he withdrew the inhaler of jet from his pocket and shook it up for a quick buzz. He ended up sharing the remains of the canister with the female ghoul.
"Ah man, spent," he grumbled giving it a final shake just to be sure before tossing the empty canister aside.
"We aren't carrying any ourselves I'm afraid, but, if you need to restock, I heard a rumor that might be worth checking out," the lady ghoul informed him.
Hancock's interest was piqued. "Oh yeah, what's that?"
"Another caravaner told me that some chem dealer and her addict brother up and split from vault 81 a while back. There might be a decent stash of chems laying around the place they are itching to get rid of on the cheap. If you wanna head that far west that is."
"Vault dwellers leaving their cozy little hole? What's the deal with that I wonder?" Hancock puzzled.
"Oh, it's a wild one," interjected the male ghoul, who was roasting a pan of squirrel meat over the fire. "I guess some kid from the vault was messing around in some hidden tunnels, only they weren't just tunnels. I heard that it was like a whole second vault down there nobody knew about. Well this kid he got bit by a mole rat."
Hancock shrugged. "Yeah, so?"
"These weren't no ordinary mole rats they had down there. They were infected with some kinda nasty disease. That was that vault's experiment, testing diseases and medicine and such way back when. I guess it all went belly up before it really got rolling. The vault population never knew."
"DamnVault-Tech bastards," Hancock muttered taking the portion of meat offered to him.
"You can say that again. Anyways, this vault kid was in real grim condition, but then this traveler from some other vault stepped up and tracked down the medicine he needed. Saved the kid's life. Real heroic type I 'sppose."
Hancock chuckled. "I think I know the type," he said. It had to have been Nate.
The female ghoul picked up the story from there. "It turns out the kid found that hidden vault because that was where the other guy was hiding his chems. That's why he and his sister skipped out. They didn't want everyone blaming them."
"Huh, and I thought vault life was supposed to be all safe and boring," Hancock joked, earning laughs from the couple.
"The word is this other vault dweller stuck around and helped them clear out the hidden vault. They got it all in livable condition and now quite a few more caravans pass through there. It's becoming a real social hub, or so they say anyways," the female ghoul finished, tucking in to her meal.
"Damn, sounds like it's worth a look-see on that story alone. Thanks for the tip sister."
Hancock sat by the fire, head swimming with the jet, and mentally made a list of his remaining supplies. It wasn't a long list and he debated continuing his trek to Bunker Hill first, but curiosity got the best of him. He made up his mind to visit the Vault first and skewed the trajectory of his path from south to west. The next morning he awoke early, thanked the couple for their hospitality, and headed out for vault 81.
Things went relatively smooth on this new westbound journey. It wasn't until he passed by Monsignor Plaza that he ran into some real trouble. He had run low on, of all things, water, and while seeking some out he stumbled onto a particularly nasty group of raiders.
"I ain't got any damn caps on me! Save your bullets why don't ya?" Hancock yelled, slamming into cover behind some rubble. His admission of poverty had done little to deter the raiders and the firefight continued.
"Fine, have it your way!" Hancock growled drawing his own pistol and dropping the nearest raider. He was able to take a few more out but their numbers didn't seem to be dwindling. He decided that a hasty retreat would be the best plan of action. He leapt up, took a few shots in their direction and took off for the shelter of an overturned freight truck. From there he cut through an alley but he could tell that the raiders were giving chase.
Exiting the alley he saw a somewhat intact building. He decided he could cut through it or hide in it, but either was preferable to staying out in the open. Hancock kicked the door in and looked around the room. It appeared fairly untouched. He slammed the door shut just in time to hear the wood of the doorframe splintering from a gunshot behind him. He threw over a curio cabinet to block the door then took off down the hall. He rounded up some stairs and sprinted down another hall. He chose a room at random and ducked inside. Much to his surprise he nearly collided with a suit of power armor, and the person wearing it.
"Whoa!" Hancock called out slamming into a bedside table instead.
"Oh shit!" spouted the mechanically warped voice from inside the helmet. "Wha-you're not a-fuck, are they chasing you?"
"Y-yeah, and they're hot on my ass," Hancock told the metal man. As he looked for a way out he saw that there was also a woman in the room. She was short, but she had a sturdy looking frame. Her face was smeared with dirt and her wildly curly dark auburn hair stuck out unevenly from her knit cap.
"They're in the building?" she inquired harshly, readying her gun.
"Sorry about that, this place didn't look occupied."
"It wasn't until you picked a fight with a load of raiders! What the hell?"
Hancock's brow furrowed, unseen. "I didn't start it! They cornered me over by the south turnpike and I-"
"They cornered you from the south? They got us from the north. Christ you started a gang war out there!" The woman scolded him, rising up from the floor to check out the window.
"Yeah," spoke metal man, "And we're right in the middle of it…We've gotta get out of here."
"Ok, there were some more stairs back the way we came. If we can make it to the roof we might be able to head east and-"
"No time!" shouted a voice from the room across the hall. "We fight here."
"What?" cried the woman. "You can't be serious."
"There are two groups down there right? They'll get caught up trying to shoot each other and we can thin the herd a bit from up here. Lane, Paulie, you cover that side, I got this one," the mystery voice commanded.
The man in the power armor drew up a nasty looking assault rifle and propped it into the window frame. "You, stranger, go to the other room and cover the hallway. You should have a better view field over there."
"You're trusting this guy to cover our asses?" the woman asked, clearly not pleased.
"He'll do it if he wants to live, and you don't run like that if you don't want to live."
"I got it covered," Hancock reassured his new allies.
Just then they heard the door smashing down the hall. The raiders had made their way inside from the south.