Rocky could smell the rot of bodies before she even saw them from her place among the shadows; the neon sign reflected into old pools of blood, buzzing, flickering, but everything else was quiet and still. In the dark of night, the sign was the only source of light she had seen for miles, and it shown like a beacon even through the corpse-strewn street. It had been murder to find, she thought with just the smallest tilt of a smile beneath her black respirator, her sharp, amber colored eyes glaring narrowly over the brim of it. Though she was dressed in similar dark colors in an attempt to disguise the shine of armor and the stifled green glow of a Pip-Boy, anything that might give her away, the wet stains of a fight still glittered ominously in every sliver of glowing light. Because the truth was, she was not a fighter, and up until a few months ago, she had never even held a gun. But there was now a very abused tree out in the middle of nowhere that had a personal vendetta against the woman who had wasted precious ammo shooting at its splintered trunk, and there were some very sorry corpses who could now no longer argue that she had been an easy mark.

The blue vault suit might as well have been its own neon sign, flashing 'I'm a sucker' in hot pink, because she hadn't even been out of the vault for a day before the commonwealth dumped her on her ass. Looking back, she was sure the raiders saw her coming a mile away, fresh from the vault in her gleaming suit, and they planted their man in the middle of the vacant road with a tato leaking juice from beneath his armor. And she had fallen into their hand like a blind mouse.

That was past, though, wasn't it? She had left everything she used to be back at Sanctuary, she had taken back her Pip-Boy and mercilessly slain those mocking raiders, and she had grasped at the single thought that, she might not have been a soldier like Nate, but she was an incredibly pissed off mother, and as it turns out, that had gotten her pretty damn far.

Even now, that was what drove her, despite an uncomfortable distribution of shallow bullets- most of which had been dissuaded by her armor- and an annoying cut that was leaking near her elbow that made her feel especially cranky. Hell, she hadn't even known there was a settlement in this goddamn pit of city, but she carefully picked her way through the garbage and checked over corpses, following the arrow which directed her down a dead-end alley, with the sign of 'Goodneighbor' glowing cheerfully.

Somewhere near her hip, Dogmeat whined in similar thought.

The name seemed perfectly ironic, she could just imagine herself telling someone that she had willingly walked into a raider trap named 'Goodneighbor', but beyond the makeshift wall, she could see the glow of lights and hear a steady, but low, chant of voices. With her rifle still in hand, she pushed open the door and stepped into the little gathering of brick buildings, one on the left looking like an old historical, state house, and those kitty corner to it were steadily falling away.

The slow creak of the door closing behind her roused the attention of a nearby man, dressed in grimy jeans and a leather jacket, who had been in the midst of trying to light a match on the brick wall and seemed to have given up upon seeing her. As he approached, she watched his eyes giving her the once over, the very same look the raiders had given her after she had stumbled out of the vault. He was about to learn the same lesson.

"You new to Goodneighbor?" he asked, wandering closer though she stood her ground, as though perfectly at ease. "You're going to need insurance."

"Unless it's keep-dumb-assholes-away-from-me insurance, piss off," she answered, her eyes glowering at him over the nose of her respirator. Well, that wasn't her best sarcastic remark ever, but it was a little hard to be amusing when she had been expecting a raider ambush.

"You're going to want what I have to offer, because if you don't have insurance, accidents start happening." He bared his teeth a little with the stressed word, his own eyes narrowing as though to intimidate her, and behind it, she could see a little confidence, as though this had worked before.

And maybe it had, maybe it was just the way of the town to pay this asshole to piss off and many had fallen prey to his scheme, but she was feeling especially pissy. There was a very tender bullet on the edge of her ass cheek that she had been trying to ignore, and the blood around her elbow had coagulated enough that the fabric was sticking to it and pulling at the tender flesh. In short, he was just a little too late to pull this shit with her.

She gritted her teeth together as she forced the butt of her rifle upwards, catching the man just below the ribs with blunt force and was greeted by a deep groan, and maybe she should have left it at that. Maybe she would have left it at that, but that damned look he had given her before, as though she were an easy mark, was mocking her and hell, maybe she was doing everyone a public service by teaching this prick a lesson. So, as he doubled over in pain, his hand raising to try to grasp the front of her jacket, she brought her gun down once more in a dull crack against the back of his shaved skull, watching him slump forward onto the bricks in defeat. "You're right, it's working," she mused, looking down at the groaning, semi-conscious heap.

There was a burst of laughter and a ghoul stumbled forward, one hand clutching at his chest as though the laughter was too much to take, the other grasping for some kind of support, his head thrown back. "Woah-hoh, Finn! Saw that coming from a mile away," he cackled, his black eyes gleaming beneath the shadow of a tricorn hat. "Oh man, Fahrenheit, you can start emptying your pockets now- I'm two hundred caps richer. What I wouldn't give to relive that over and over." Somewhere beyond him, a woman with a half-shaved head was massaging her temples.

"Nothing I hate more than a pushy salesman." For some reason, that statement echoed in her mind.

The ghoul wiped the hint of a tear from the corner of his eye, trying to calm down his laughing fit. "You're gonna get along great here," he snickered, and extended his hand. "Mayor Hancock, welcome to Goodneighbor."

"Rocky," she answered, reluctantly letting go of her gun long enough to grasp his hand, their eyes meeting briefly. At least the mayor wasn't going to reprimand her for showing up and kicking the first ass she saw, but that didn't in any way convince her this wasn't a settlement of raiders or scum. In fact, it almost convinced her of it, but every place she had been to was twisted in some way. Thinking that was that, she stepped over Finn's moaning body toward the little alley, stopping only when she heard Hancock's voice behind her again.

"I could use someone like you, if you're up to some work," he said, lighting up a cigarette and using his boot to roll Finn out of his way, a smile still tugging at the corners of his thin lips. "Bet you could go in and get shit done, not that your entrance was any indication."

Rocky slowly turned, glancing at him over her shoulder. He had an airy voice, almost sultry, the kind she thought could easily coerce someone to his side- even her, maybe, if she didn't know better than to get tangled in someone's shady dealings. After all, this ghoul was wearing clothes about twice as old as she was, if that was any indication of the sanity of this place. Her first priority, besides meeting Valentine at the Memory Den, was to get her wounds patched up. "Don't you think I have better things to do than your laundry list?"

"Besides that gaping hole in your ass, you mean like taking out my lackeys? That kinda 'better things to do'?" He didn't even bat an eye at her snide remark, in fact, he still wore that annoying cocky smile that somehow elicited an angry, frustrated blush from beneath her respirator. "I can see how that would be time consuming."

"Consider it a public service."

"Your ass, or the fighting?"

"Both." She was pursing her lips beneath her mask, trying to keep as much emotion from her eyes as she could possibly conceal, because the moment she let on how flustered she was, was the moment she lost this conversation. From his wicked smile over the glow of his cigarette, she was already starting to feel any hope slip away, though she had to mentally commend him for his persuasive capabilities, as annoying as they were.

"Since you're so interested in servicing the public, this could help us both. And speaking of which, I am technically part of the public, if you're looking for something to service- "

"For fuck's sake, I get it, I get it," she interjected, quickly, desperately, drowning out the deep, black hole that sentence was surely leading to, a hand shooting up to stop him. She took a breath once he had- thankfully- stopped, her eyes gaping wildly into that mocking, self-satisfied look of his that only convinced her that he was entirely crazy. "Just- don't say 'service' again. I'm listening, and that's not a 'yes'."

"Sure, sure," the Mayor snickered, flicking away some ashes, trying to distract her from his shiny black eyes taking her in, especially that pouting, flustered look that reached up to her glowering eyes. There was an angry defeated sort of expression there, and he had to revel that silent victory; damn was he good at wearing people down, or what? "Some raiders have been disappearing out by a shithole people call Pickman Gallery," he continued, the cigarette going back between his lips. "I don't really give two fucks about them, just want to know what's going on up there, if I should be concerned. Get me? If this is some do-gooder or a fucking menace just lucky enough to hit raiders so far, I want to know."

"Should I give them a medal otherwise?" He was lucky that his needs lined up with her own; if people were disappearing, even if they were just raiders, she wanted to know about it too. There were plenty of settlers just trying to make their way in this shit-hole world, and they needed one less trap in their way. He was right, she could slip in undetected and get to the heart of the matter, even if her entrance just now hadn't been so subtle. She just wouldn't admit out loud that he had been right.

A smile ghosted its way across Hancock's lips, and he gave another cackle, stepping past her. "I like you already."

Hancock stepped into the old statehouse, making his way upstairs with Fahrenheit trailing along somewhere behind him, though he was moving at an uncommonly and almost suspiciously quick pace. His heart was beating quicker than it had in a long time, and to pretend he hadn't been winded simply by taking stairs too fast, he scooped up a cannister of jet before settling in by a window, peeking through the blinds.

"So, you wanna tell me what the hell that was?" Fahrenheit asked, her arms mechanically folding across her chest as she went to peer out the window with him, wondering what the hell he was trying to see.

"Why the fuck are these windows so dirty?" He pinched the sleeve of his red coat and tried desperately to polish some dust off the glass between the wooden slats, and the thin line he achieved in cleaning was enough for him to peer through with some afforded clarity.

The redhead would probably be disgusted by his strange and desperate behavior, if she didn't know him better. "Because you've never given a shit before now," she bit back, squinting out her own window, bobbing her head for a better view of whatever he needed to see so badly. "If you're looking for the chick you were just drooling over, she's by the Memory Den."

Hancock shot away from his window and collided with another set of wooden blinds, leering through them down at the street with his sweeping eyes, zeroing in like a laser on a certain black-clad body. "I wouldn't say that- I was cool about it. Wasn't I cool?" He checked momentarily over his shoulder, seeing the redhead's deadpan look before he turned back around. "Shit. You're right, I should have done more."

"I don't want to know what 'more' looks like."

He could see Rocky down below, talking to that old trench coat wearing machine that was so distinctly Nick Valentine that he didn't even need to wipe away the smudge of dirt to confirm it. What was she doing with a detective? More importantly, how could he possibly elbow his way into this? Granted, he didn't exactly know the two women of the Memory Den well enough to barge in for a house call, and even in his giddiness he knew he couldn't just drape himself across the nearest lounger and pull an old-fashioned 'fancy meeting you here'. No, he actually needed to approach this with some clarity and with his dignity still intact. Pickman Gallery had been the first thing to come to mind, but he was mentally congratulating himself on that save, suavely setting up another chance to see her again; and Fahrenheit had said he hadn't been cool about this. He'd let Rocky come to him, and she'd be back- oh, would she be back.

It was hours later, when the sun had disappeared and lights flickered on throughout the little neighborhood that he saw Valentine exiting the Memory Den; purely by chance, it wasn't like Hancock had been circulating around nearby or anything… that would be absurd. "Well hey, Nicky," he said with a famous half-smirk. "Haven't seen you around in a while."

"Been stuck in a Vault, mostly," the synth said, dryly, his hands going to the pockets of his trench coat.

"You on a case here?" Hancock innocently lit up another cigarette, cupping his hand around the glowing end of the match, his eyes casually darting over Valentine's shoulder to the door of the Memory Den. "Or is this a social call."

"Both, you could say." Those glowing, yellow eyes of his fixed on Hancock, not at all fooled by the façade he was putting up. The Mayor was nosey, undoubtedly in a good way, always wanting to know if the people of his town needed help, but he had a code to uphold here, and the ghoul knew that.

"So, you wanna ask me?" Hancock waited for the detective's eyebrow to quirk up questioningly. "If I've seen anyone. Men? Women? Children? Stray dogs?" His fishing for information wasn't working, the synth was as tightlipped as canned food, but he didn't doubt his ability to wear down literally anyone. "Long lost lovers? Deranged men holding guns? Maybe a dark-haired sister turned rogue and running with a pack of raiders? A fat mayor in a sombrero?"

"Those are all very… specific things," Valentine said, reaching out and plucking the cigarette from the ghoul's hand. "He didn't come through here, so I doubt you would have seen anything."

He. Hah, gotcha, Nick. Hancock smiled, nodding amicably. "Not much comes through here that I don't know about." He gave Valentine one last look, tilting his head up as he touched the brim of his tricorn hat. "Always happy to help."

"I'd be a pretty shoddy detective if I didn't see through that, Hancock."

The ghoul paused, turning around on his heel and whipping his long coat behind him. "I'm an open book, Valentine. C'mon, don't hurt my feelings like that."

"Just don't see what's wrong with your goons that you can't send them out to Pickman Gallery instead." A line of smoke emanated from the cold lips of the synth, those yellow eyes glowing beneath the brim of his tattered hat. "You didn't offer to go along, but I think I can still guess your motive. I like you, Hancock."

Hancock put his hands over his heart, nestled right in the ruffles of his old white shirt. "Aww. I am hard to resist."

"So take this as a friendly warning-"

"Let me guess, stay away from her?"

"People in her path tend to disappear."

Gooseflesh rose on the back of Hancock's neck as an icy prickling coursed through his body. Had Valentine's voice changed just now? He hadn't really touched a chem lately- lately being in the past few hours or so- but he was damn sure that the synth had gone from 'I'll find your lost kitten' to 'I took your fucking kitten' in the blink of an eye. That voice had become rougher than sandpaper, and in the next instant, it was back to plain ol' Valentine.

"I should get back inside," the detective said, that usual pleasant look back on his face as though nothing had happened. He gave a courteous nod and turned to head back inside the Memory Den, leaving Hancock frozen in place.

Note:

Does anyone even still read Fallout Fanfic? Oh well. I'm at that point in my life where I don't care. lol

Told you it'd be slow burn, and the main plot line was never heard from again... until much, much later.

We'll have a bit of Silver Shroud next chapter, and a lot more Hancock Humiliation is to come. Let me know what you think so far.