Waiting was always such a strange thing, Hancock thought to himself. The ghoul mayor of Goodneighbor wasn't traditionally one for waiting. Patience and waiting had always been two different entities in his mind. Patience was something he was quite good at, as it was a highly valuable skill that could be applied out in the wasteland and in the special brand of politics that was employed in this particular town. Waiting on something, however, seemed strange to him. Traditionally, Hancock would fill his body with some sort of chemical stimulant to pass the time faster or to keep his mind hazy when he had to wait an extended amount of time for any reason. He prefered it that way. When he was left to his own sober thoughts, his mind would travel to places he felt were best avoided.
Tonight was a special case. Tonight, he had to remain sharp-witted. And so, he did his best to ignore the chems scattered around the dusty room of the Old State House that was his residence as the sound of haphazardly invited company conversing pleasantly filled his ears. He had brought a few friendly folks off of the street in an attempt to keep his mind intellectually stimulated rather than chemically stimulated this time, but he wasn't paying much attention to what was being said. He did make a valiant attempt, though. It was more than passable to the casual observer. Hancock did seem genuinely interested, and would nod and smile amicably at the appropriate intervals, even make a few comments. But that was the way of any good politician, and he knew it. He did feel slightly guilty for it, Hancock really did value the lives of everyone under his care and protection. It was just that his mind was elsewhere. Memories of past highs, both pleasant and wild floated in and out of the back of his thoughts. He pushed them away repeatedly, trying to keep himself focused on the friendly chatter. Unfortunately, the only stimulants that he had found to keep his attention other than chems were violence and sex, and he had no time for either of those things at the moment.
Nick Valentine was making a trip all the way from the Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth, through the feral and super mutant infested inner city, all the way down to humble little Goodneighbor. To top it off, word on Hancock's streets was that Nick wasn't making the trip empty handed. Therefore, with such an important impending visit, Hancock felt it best to remain as clear-minded as he could manage. It was hard. And he desperately wanted to join the others and partake in his usual pastime, but he turned them all down time and time again. Even the mentats. His favorite. Luckily, his guests were too far gone to notice how suspicious it was that JOHN HANCOCK was abstaining from any sort of recreational substance.
Hancock picked at a ripped seam on his dusty old couch. Red in color. He enjoyed the color red. Always had. It was nice, bright, and it always sent a clear message that people would stop for. He'd have to get someone in to patch up the old couch when he had the time. It was quite comfortable, and he didn't want to inconvenience anyone by throwing this one out, or by making someone scavenge around this part of the old city looking for a new one.
He glanced over at his bodyguard, Fahrenheit. It seemed that she too had her focus elsewhere. That was to be expected, however. Hancock knew her far too well to ever have the misconception that she might join in on any of the conversations. She was far too good at her job, far too singularly fixated on her task to help keep him safe. Truth be told, Hancock was more than capable of watching his own back. There were very few people that would dare to cross him, but it never hurt to have a second pair of eyes watching his back. A trusted pair of eyes. That was Fahrenheit's job. She excelled at it. Fahrenheit took up her usual position by the inside of the door into the improvised lounge, watching what was going on inside while also being keenly aware of what was going on outside of the room as well. She caught his glance and he gave her a crooked grin and a silent laugh. She returned the friendly look with a slight nod. She knew what was going through his mind.
Just outside of the room stood two ghouls in suits, guarding the way up to Hancock. Hancock had always enforced an open-door policy in his town, allowing anyone and everyone to come up and see him about complaints, suggestions, or just for a friendly conversation if they felt lonely just as long as they didn't try to start anything. However, it was a fool that left himself completely defenseless in a post-war world like this, even more so in a town like Goodneighbor. Hancock loved this town with all his heart, but he wasn't a damned fool. He knew all too well what kind of people took refuge here. Some of them could be trusted, some could be won over in time, but others needed to be watched.
It was at about this time that Hancock sat forward when he heard the sound he had been waiting for. A door opening. Footsteps up the stairs. He watched as a third ghoul made his way into the room. The first two outside did nothing to stop him; they barely looked in his direction. They knew who he was. Despite being dressed in standard drifter attire, this ghoul-known as Joey around town-fit in just as well as the rest of Hancock's boys did when dressed in his usual dark grey suit and matching hat. He was simply dressed this way so he would not attract unwanted attention to himself. The guests paused their conversation as soon as they became aware through their chem haze that he had joined them and stared in curiosity. Hancock could tell they were wondering if they would be escorted out or not.
The anticipation and mounting excitement drained from Hancock's face as soon as his cleverly disguised spotter stepped into the light of the room. Joey's face looked tired and serious. Something had gone amiss. A closer look relieved Hancock of any real concern. Had things gone badly south, Hancock would have been notified much earlier than this and in a much less casual fashion.
"Well? You just gonna leave me hanging on the edge of my seat?" Hancock held out his hands in a questioning gesture; a silent signal to Joey that he was free to discuss openly in front of Hancock's guests.
Joey gave Hancock a short nod of understanding and began his report in a low, gruff voice. One that was even lower than most other ghouls'. "Nick Valentine is just about here, but I'm afraid we ain't gonna be the ones to make up the welcoming committee this time."
"What do you mean?" Hancock furrowed his hairless brow and cocked his head ever so slightly. There was something in Joey's way of speaking that left him feeling preemptively tired.
"Finn is heading to the front gate now."
With that announcement, Hancock excused himself politely from the party, inviting everyone to stick around if they so desired. Most of them turned him down. It had been dark for hours, and none of them had really planned on making an entire party out of the evening. This was a casual social visit, and they all had things to do in the morning. They would all see themselves out as soon as they could get to their feet without falling over.
Hancock made his way down the stairs and out the door that lead to the shadowed alley between the Old State House and Kill or Be Killed, the weapon and ammo shop run by the resident Assaultron K-L-E-0. Fahrenheit was only a few steps behind him. A few of the guards stepped forward to follow him as well. Hancock put up a hand to hold them back. There was no need to bring a full crowd, especially when Hancock could handle this on his own. If he needed backup for any reason, he knew they would be there. Besides, the last thing he wanted to do was jump into a situation that might provoke Finn to violence, and bringing a gang of hostile guards could very easily be such a catalyst. No, Hancock would patiently observe before making his judgement call.
Once outside and alone, Hancock saw Finn already standing under a streetlamp by the gate, waiting with a lit cigarette in his hands. He was wearing his usual worn leather jacket, his scruffy face, and vaguely hostile expression. The bastard looked as smug and confident as ever, despite the warnings he had received about this sort of behavior before. Finn was an old resident of Goodneighbor and had never quite agreed with Hancock's policies. Hancock never could tell for certain if Finn was rebellious due to his own personal regimen, or if it was just out of spite towards Hancock himself. It didn't much matter. The man was a menace either way. What made him so dangerous was the lack of respect that he had for Hancock, which made him more difficult to control. It was a shame, really. Finn was a fit man in his thirties with a strong build and a will to match. His face was rough with scars, burns, and all sorts of other unsavory marks that showed he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty. Finn could have made quite an asset to Hancock if he hadn't always insisted in being a thorn in the mayor's side instead. He was too headstrong and dominating, and therefore a problem.
Hancock had half a mind to step forward and end this dance before the music had even begun, but something held him back. Patience. He wanted to see how this might end up playing out. Perhaps he could get some useful information from the interaction. Perhaps Finn would back down on his own.
Nick Valentine pushed his way through the door, looking a little worse for wear. If the older models of synths could breathe, Nick might have been out of breath. With the skeletal frame of a hand, he held the door open for a second figure to hurry his way inside the safety of the town. The guards on the rooftops that were invisible to anyone who didn't know exactly where they were gave Hancock no indication of pursuit. The two travelers must have just been eager to get inside after a rough trip.
The journey to Goodneighbor was just as treacherous as the town itself. The pre-war city ruins were strewn about in such a particular maze in this area that working one's way through was disorienting at best, and impossible at worst if one didn't know where they were going. Not to mention how infested this area was by all sorts of wasteland dangers. It was no small wonder that the two guests seemed tired.
Nick took off his hat and shook it free of dust and debris, letting out an entirely superfluous sigh as he looked back at his companion. "You doing alright back there, kid? That suicider came awfully close to ending you."
The man behind Nick leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Hancock couldn't get a good look at him, and not just because of the darkness. Hancock prided himself in being prodigiously perceptive, but this man was a bit of a mystery to him. The newcomer was tall. Not overly tall, but enough to be somewhat intimidating to the average person. Though his worn drifter outfit covered much of his body, Hancock could also tell that he was muscular to some degree. This was supported by the bulging pack he had hoisted over his shoulder and the super sledge strapped safely to his back. Hancock didn't know of many people who favored that rocket-enhanced weapon since it was messy to use, heavy to carry, and required a level of intimacy with an opponent that many simply were not comfortable having. There was also a pistol at the man's side, and a worn out sniper rifle beside the sledge hammer. He was smart enough to carry weapons for several situations, which only served to confuse Hancock further.
If this new stranger was smart enough to come so prepared, why did his body language scream surprise and betrayal. Surely, he should have known the trip would be dangerous. Nick would have warned him. Nick would have warned him REPEATEDLY. That was the type of guy Nick was. Either this man was arrogant, a poor listener, or stupid… or perhaps a fourth option that wasn't readily coming to Hancock's mind.
What truly made this man difficult for Hancock to pin down, though, was the faded green hood and assault gas mask that he wore over his face. A valuable piece of equipment for traveling the radioactive wastes with its pockets of fallout and dangerous gasses floating about. This man seemed somehow both experienced but hopelessly underprepared in a way. He had more than enough equipment to brave the wilds, decent protective clothing to keep his body safe from the elements, a strong and hearty build that suggested he would be able to overcome most physical encumbrances, and yet he seemed naive in a way. Naivety was one of the most dangerous things in the Commonwealth. Naivety got people killed. This man had it in spades. Hancock only knew of one particular kind of person that was so misguided, and people from those communities usually did best to stay underground where they came from.
The man looked up to answer Nick's inquiry as soon as he regained his bearings and looked around inside the town. Hancock could tell he was taking in his surroundings, even with the gas mask covering his face. Poor, innocent bastard. He was the perfect prey for someone like Finn. Finn seemed to notice as well, because he stepped forward and called out to the two of them before the stranger had a chance to offer a reply.
Finn greeted the pair of weary travelers with a sardonic grin, tapping the excess from his cigarette after taking a pull from it. The smoke poured out of his lips as he spoke in low tones. "Well, well, it's the detective. Tracking down another wayward husband to his mistress?"
"Why, someone stand you up?" Nick quipped without missing a single beat or even pausing for a breath. Hancock couldn't help but smile to himself. Good old Nick Valentine. If there was anything he missed about Diamond City, other than Takahashi's noodles of course, it was Nick and his smart mouth. Nick always gave as good as he got and never had time for anyone's bullshit. He supposed it had come from being around bigoted assholes for so long.
"Tryin' that, what d'ya call it? Evasive language, on me?" Finn said, a vein appearing in his temple. It was clear that he was trying to retain control of the situation. He had to, otherwise his scam just wouldn't work. Unfortunately for him, he hadn't taken into account that his victim would be backed by the hardest nut to crack in the entire Commonwealth. In an attempt to keep enough dignity to stay intimidating under the yellow glow of the lamp, he turned to the stranger and gave him a once-over. He wrinkled his nose in disappointment. "And who are you, huh? Valentine's new dick-in-training?"
"We're hiring, but I don't think you'd… measure up." The man replied in a surprisingly smooth voice. Hancock hadn't expected his voice to be as distinguishable and mellow as it was, nor did he expect the man to pick up on Valentine's cue and pick away at Finn's act. Maybe this kid wasn't as hopeless as Hancock had originally thought.
"Don't be like that. You just got the look of someone who's in the market for a little insurance." Finn said in an oily tone that made Hancock ill. Who did Finn really think he was fooling here? Why keep this crap up. Both Nick and his friend weren't taken in by any of this, best to just quit while he was ahead, or still had a head.
"Unless it's 'keep-dumb-assholes-away-from-me' insurance, I'm not interested." The stranger said, perhaps a bit too confidently. That may have pushed Finn too far. Confidence was only as good as your ability to backup your words. Even at this distance, Hancock could see Finn's hand twitch for some sort of concealed weapon. Finn resisted the urge, somehow, still trying to keep up the false tone. There was an added tone of danger in his voice when he spoke again, his eyes locked on the cocky newcomer.
"I think you're going to like what I have to offer…" Finn dropped his cigarette on the cobblestone and stamped out the embers with his boot, twisting his heal slowly and with more energy than necessary. He was sending a very clear message. He then started to walk towards the stranger. "You hand over everything you got in them pockets, or 'accidents' start happenin'. Big, bloody accidents."
His own curiosity was one thing, but allowing Finn to sully his lovely little town's reputation with such a tired routine was another matter entirely. This stranger was new to Goodneighbor, and Hancock wasn't about to allow Finn to ruin his first impression.
"Whoa, whoa, time out." Hancock raised his hand as he stepped out of the shadows and into the main street, revealing himself to everyone but Nick. Hancock had known Nick had noticed him soon after Finn had started hassling them. There wasn't much that could get passed Nick. Hancock kept his attention mostly on Finn so the illusion wouldn't be broken, but his attention was admittedly divided. He watched the stranger out of the corner of his eyes as he made his approach. He was curious. He wanted to know how this kid would react, he wanted to get a good read on the mysterious, masked figure. He also wanted to make a show for anyone else who was watching or thinking of following Finn's example. A good politician knows how to take care of more than one problem at once. "Nick Valentine makes a rare visit to town, and you're hassling his friend here with that extortion crap?"
Finn's face twisted angrily as soon as he heard that gruff, unwelcome voice behind him. He should have known that Hancock wouldn't allow this behavior to go on for long. He also knew that Hancock was deriving great satisfaction out of watching him squirm. Finn was cornered now. It was evident even in the way he spun around to face the mayor, narrowing his eyes and squaring off with him defiantly. Hancock noticed how he wasn't backing down.
Never one to skip courtesies, or make anyone feel unwelcome, Hancock took a moment to incline his head in Nick's direction and offer him a genuine and kind smile. "Good to see you again, Nick."
"Hancock." and a short nod of affirmation was all that Hancock received from the Diamond City detective. Hancock had suspected as much. Nick was too smart to let his guard down in Goodneighbor, and Finn still hadn't been truly dealt with. They would talk more once things had calmed down. He did notice that Nick did relax ever so slightly when Hancock had finally stepped in to deny his part in sanctioning duplicitous "insurance" deals to allow people to move around in Goodneighbor, free from worry. The stranger relaxed almost completely. He seemed to trust Hancock, a man he had never met, to handle the situation implicitly. While the stranger was right in believing what he did, Hancock felt disappointed to some degree. The kid really was as blue as a vault-dweller after all. What Hancock was too distracted to notice at the time what that the stranger's hand was gradually reaching for the pistol at his belt. Just in case.
"What do you care? He ain't one of us." Finn barked challengingly, bringing Hancock's thoughts back to focus on what was now in front of him. Namely, a thug with a serious attitude problem.
"No love for your mayor, Finn? I said let 'em go." Hancock growled in a low voice. He gave Finn a dangerous look. Patience was different from waiting. Hancock's patience was running thin. This was Hancock's final warning to Finn. He had even been polite enough to let Finn know that he was aware of the stance of defiance that Finn was taking against him, and was willing to let him walk away from it unharmed as long as he did so without violence.
Finn answered Hancock's look with a glare of his own, shifting his weight to both of his feet equally, planting himself on the ground firmly. He was not backing down. He was making his stand. He lowered his voice ever so slightly for emphasis, just so Hancock would have no choice but to pay attention to hear him. "You're soft, Hancock. You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there'll be a new mayor."
There was a world of difference between waiting on something and having patience. To Hancock, waiting was a verb. A physical, passive act. Hancock hated being passive. He had long ago made up his mind against being passive. It was an unacceptable stance on any matter. Patience, on the other hand. Patience was a skill. Maybe even a gift. It took strength to be patient with someone. Someone at some time had said patience was a virtue, and running a town full of outcasts, addicts, and criminals took all of the patience he had at times.
Hancock had no patience left for Finn, and he certainly wasn't about to wait around for him to do something truly unforgivable.
A change came over Hancock's expression. He took a deep, relaxed breath. He released the breath on a long, sighing laugh and smiled at Finn in a friendly manner. Finn wasn't sure what to expect as Hancock started to walk towards him in a genial fashion, but with someone like Hancock, it was safe to assume that half of his reasons for his actions were chem influenced. Hancock even seemed to have a stagger to his step, like he was slightly off balance in a way.
"Come on, man. This is me we're talking about." Hancock grinned lazily as he stopped just a foot away from Finn. He held out his left hand in a sort of welcoming gesture, as if he were about to offer Finn a hug, "Let me tell you something…"
The knife came from from Hancock's right.
Like a magician, Hancock had drawn Finn's attention with his left hand while he seemed to pull a combat knife out of thin air. The bait and switch. Now, the left hand was clenching down on Finn's shoulder with an unexpected ferocity while the blade plunged into Finn's chest once. Then twice. On the second attack, Hancock looked Finn straight in the eyes and sneered as he twisted the blade, holding it for a moment before pulling it back out. He wanted Finn to know. He relished how Finn's eyes went from indignant rage at the unexpected attack, to augmented and deep pain. Hancock released the dying man's shoulder, allowing him to crumple onto the street and cradle his fatal wound. Hancock stood over him and shook his head as the blood and the life drained out of Finn's body.
"Now, why;d you have to go and say that, huh? Breaking my heart over here…" Hancock said with insincere remorse. He cleaned the blade of his knife on a rag in his pocket, only half listening to Finn try to offer some sort of reply, or damnation. All the man could do was gasp in vain and make soft gurgling sounds and the blood flooded inside his lungs, drowning him. What didn't fill his lungs spilled out onto the cobblestone, working it's way between the stones via the mortar in little rushing rivers. It gave the dirty streets some color. Hancock loved the color red. It sent a clear message that made people stop for.
With a huff of satisfaction, Hancock turned his attention back to his guests. He smiled once again, this time it was genuine.
"You alright, brother?" Hancock asked, stepping over Finn's body and into the the light of the streetlamp. He had a tone of concern in his voice due to the fact that the newcomer looked quite alarmed by what had just taken place. He noticed that the stranger also had his hand clasped on his pistol and was ready to return any fire that was sent in his direction. Maybe it was Hancock's relaxed demeanor, or the subdued tone of Hancock's voice, or maybe even the fabled chem fumes that hung in the air in Goodneighbor, but the man eased his stance. Even with the gas mask, Hancock could tell that the stranger was still tense. The scene that had just played out was a bit gruesome, and by no means what Hancock would ever wish to display to anyone visiting Goodneighbor for the first time, but it could have been much worse had he not stepped in. The stranger was apprehensive of the approaching mayor, and Hancock hoped he wasn't about to make a panicked run back into the streets where only death awaited him.
The stranger leaned forward to regard Hancock, his head tilting to the side quickly. Something had piqued his interest about the mayor, it seemed, but what he was seeing wasn't good enough. Rather, how he was perceiving Hancock wasn't good enough. The man reached up to his mask and leaned forward slightly to pull it off of his head. Hancock's breath caught in his throat, but he made no other outward indications that he was surprised by what was underneath the mask.
Hancock wasn't sure what he had expected the stranger to look like. This man was tall, muscular, but ignorant and naive. Perhaps Hancock was subconsciously picturing some kind of big brute, akin to a super mutant in looks and in brains, or maybe a common thug. Every thought he had was only supplemented by the fact that he had apparently followed Nick all the way to Goodneighbor like some kind of lost, helpless puppy.
Whatever it was that his mind had come up with, the stranger's real face didn't match it at all. He was darker skinned with black hair, or perhaps dark brown? It was dark and Hancock couldn't really tell. What he could tell is that the hair had been fairly well maintained up to a point, and then given up on. The gas mask hadn't done much to keep it neat, either. It stuck up at at an angle almost, in the exact direction that the man had removed his gas mask in. His soft face was framed with a thin, untrimmed beard that was broken by a linear scar on his chin. Like the man had skipped shaving a few days rather than made the conscious decision to start growing facial hair. Hancock wasn't really one to be shy about his sex life, so he felt only a smidge of shame for noticing the shape and slight pucker to the stranger's full lips. They were chapped, but still added yet another layer of pleasantry to the man's fine features. What really caught Hancock's attention, though, were his eyes. Not the color or shape, though the rich dark brown color was appealing in eyes that large, but what was behind them.
The stranger's eyes had a tired, guarded, and worn out look to them. Hancock recognized it immediately. It was the same look that all the wayward, lost, and lonely souls that had come to Goodneighbor wore, including himself at one point. The look of someone who had fallen on hard times, or seen too much, and didn't quite have the strength to pull themselves out of the hollow, empty sense of despair that followed. But the depression had not taken the man, it had only stopped him for a time. Hancock could tell. There was something that this man had to do, something that was unfinished. It barely kept him from collapsing in on himself, but it was there. Perhaps it was that self-sustaining mission that had pulled him out of his own darkness to stare in child-like awe at what was in front of him. An odd quality for anyone who had been alive for more than 10 years. It was the way this stranger regarded him with those wide eyes that Hancock found the most unexpected.
"You… you're a ghoul?" The man asked, leaning in a bit closer to Hancock. It was a bit strange, but Hancock had seen people on a particularly powerful high act in a similarly baffled way. Not to mention the fact that they were swiftly approaching the time where people in settlements such as Diamond City will have never set eyes on a non-feral ghoul. Hancock wasn't sure if he liked being ogled out of curiosity more than hated and jeered, so he shot Nick a bemused smile. Nick gave Hancock an apologetic look and put a hand on the man's shoulder, silently reminding him of his manners.
"That's right. Like my face? I think it gives me a sexy, king of the zombies kinda look. Big hit with the ladies." Hancock said, regaining his confidence before anyone could notice he had lost it. Cracking jokes and smartass remarks was second nature to Hancock, and he couldn't help but play it up a bit when he saw the man become even more flustered and confused by this muddled first impression.
"Listen," Hancock interjected, back to business, "lots of walking rad freaks like me walking around here, so you might want to keep those types of questions on the low burner next time. Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone's welcome."
Hancock needed to make it explicitly clear what to expect from his town, especially with such a violent display that had unfortunately greeted their new guest. The rules in Goodneighbor were simple and easy to follow. Noncompliance with the basic rules that he felt outlined basic human decency would end in consequences, same as anywhere else. What was unfortunately different from everywhere else was that everyone was welcome. Even ghouls. Even synths like Nick Valentine. Even handsome strangers fresh out of the vault.
"Goodneighbor? Is that what you call this place?" The man asked, switching that intensely curious and borderline awestruck gaze to the surrounding town. It was oddly charming in a way. It was Hancock's town that this man was regarding with such high esteem.
"That's right. We cobbled this little neighborhood together out of the freaks and misfits that just wouldn't be accepted anywhere else." Hancock couldn't help but brag. Not necessarily over his own achievements, but over everything that everyone had done to pull Goodneighbor together as a refuge for people who had lost hope. It took a while for people to adjust to the conditions, and Goodneighbor was far from perfect. Hancock was patient, though. He knew that just like the town of Goodneighbor had come around, anyone who came here would come around, too. He smiled when he saw the look in the stranger's eyes shift to one of contemplation. Hancock's smile widened when the man looked away for a brief moment, blinking those eyes several times, clearly trying to collect himself after his mind had taken him to the inevitable conclusion. One that he wasn't quite ready to accept, it would seem.
"You'll see. You make enough friends here, you'll call this place home soon enough." Hancock gave the stranger a heartfelt, and patient smile.