12.1.2290 FRI - Goodneighbors
The Sole Survivor
The Biography of the Minutemen's Most Influential General
[Working Title]
INTRODUCTION [Change time instances to reflect date of publication. Try and talk to Blue about calling us Companions before publishing—makes us sound too dependent on her and the word can create ambiguity anyway.]
The Commonwealth, YEAR. It's been [blank] years since the Sole Survivor woke up alone in Vault 111 and became General of the Minutemen. Under her direction, settlements in the Commonwealth grew, each bearing the Minuteman flag, and the prosperity of their citizens rose despite the raids and the looming threat of the Institute. Through delicate diplomacy and crafty dealings, General Nora* managed to ingratiate herself with the region's major factions, and has formed a small council known as the Companions. Maintaining peace between the factions has been a tricky task, and will soon come to an end, now that Nora has found her son…
Sanctuary Hills, Nora's pre-war home and current headquarters, rivals Diamond City for the coveted title of "Jewel of the Commonwealth." With overflowing coffers, generous stores of food, and a relay network of provisioners hauling supplies between settlements, Sanctuary is a beacon of hope away from the ruins of Boston. Refurbished with Vault-Tec technology and guarded by towering concrete walls, Sanctuary is in the running for becoming the capital of a new nation.
[Needs conclusion or segue into something. Maybe this intro goes into Blue's first interview with me? Or should that come later?]
[*Ask Blue if she's settled on a new surname before publishing, unless she's decided to stick to just Nora.]
Piper stared at the terminal. Just over a month ago, a raid led by super mutants introduced a mini-nuke to the ramparts her Sanctuary office sat beside, and the force of the blast had broken a few things, including her terminal. She'd nearly lost this file, but between Sturges and Nick Valentine, the terminal had been repaired and every file recovered. She treasured Blue's biography and all related notes the most, but she'd barely added a word to any of it since the repairs. The most she did today was insert punctuation her fingers had forgotten to type, and gaze at an awkward sentence. Yesterday, she'd finished transcribing the electronic notes onto physical paper. A good plan, given the fragility of electronics and Piper's complex relationship with protective walls, but she'd hoped for some inspiration to come out of it. Nothing manifested.
And now the small fraction of time she had to work on this was gone. It was time to feed the crew.
Sanctuary Hills was one of the nicest places Piper had been. It wasn't as clean as a Vault, but it looked a lot more like the neighborhoods of yore, those illustrated in the comics…if you didn't count the massive walls lined with guards, biometric turrets, and spotlights. Piper still wrestled with her under-described, more approachable version of Sanctuary's defenses; it was hard to paint that aspect of Blue's portrait without making her sound vicious, paranoid, or greedy. Those walls could be pretty scary, but Piper knew Blue hoped for a wall-free future, and that everything within those walls represented a giving caretaker, a person doing her best to provide means and opportunity to everyone.
Blue had done one hell of a job with this place. The literal unearthing of Vault-Tec blueprints and manuals had been a boon. Countertops were sturdier, easier to clean. Toilets were toilets, not seats for latrines. The clinic even had a working shower, and its baths didn't need filling from buckets that caught water from a hand-pump. That was Sturges' current pet project, or perhaps his orders from Blue: running water. If they were going to get water running through Sanctuary Hills again, the first stop would undeniably be Doctor Grant's clinic.
The months of unearthing pipes, testing pipes, and ultimately cleaning and repairing pipes, had been a messy, smelly span of months. All for one building that existed on the former foundation of a home. It would be years, Sturges thought, before the whole town was hooked up again, given that some buildings did not lie on old foundations and therefore no old pipes were available for repair or scavenging purposes.
The local watering hole, the oddly named Barname, was not one of those buildings, and had made a good case for being next in line for proper water hook ups. The proposal was greatly opposed by many citizens, mostly those who didn't understand or care about microbes in their food. The main opponent, though, as Jun's latest article had revealed, was Cole Penny. Cole already hated living next door to the Goodneighbor Embassy, and ever since John Hancock, mayor and ambassador of Goodneighbor, offered to house Barname during the renovations, Penny took it upon himself to rally up a small pack of his neighbors to protest the project. Piper had worried about the Longs' safety since then. Penny was physically harmless, but those who sided with him could hold their own in a raid.
But Jun and Marcy had thus far been safe. Probably because Jun had a knack for objectivity and a reputation for his insightful, human-interest pieces. Or probably because Marcy and Penny were friends. Maybe a mix of both. Maybe Penny and his group weren't inclined to violence after all.
Piper entered Barname to the same greeting every time: a ubiquitous turning of heads, and the suspicious, quick turning back of those same heads. Only Companions ever gave her the time of day. The barkeep and servers too, since it was their job. Her reputation in Sanctuary was far better than it was in Diamond City, but folks knew better than to air their dirty laundry near a reporter.
Piper spotted Blue standing at the bar, and she spotted her too. They shared smiles. Piper gave herself a moment. General Nora had gone missing around the time of that super mutant raid, when the world's rules with time and space went momentarily wonky and she was sucked into another world. Since her return, their relationship had changed. The world Blue had visited was on a pre-war timeline, and she seemed to miss it. Piper understood, but now they weren't as close as they had been. Piper had thought, once…maybe…but no longer was that the case.
Piper wasn't alone. Blue had a complex network of relationships, ones that many of Piper's fellow Companions wanted a romantic aspect to. It caused a lot of infighting, mostly behind Blue's back, but Piper had stayed out of it, feeling a little guilty that she was the one who'd had Blue's attention in that arena. But the bliss of returning had been temporary; Blue had since cut herself off from everyone. Sure, she traveled here and there with a few of them, taking on various missions and tasks and fighting multitudes of bad guys, but hearts had been broken.
Blue. There she stood, at the bar, as beautiful as ever. Always as Piper imagined her, every feature perfect and unique.
Yet Blue was now so far away.
Piper ignored the flutter in her stomach and joined her. "Hey, Blue. You don't usually come around here."
"Sanctuary or Barname?"
"Please, Barname, of course. You could never leave this place."
"Maybe," said Blue. "Maybe once Sanctuary is safe and secure, overflowing with resources and happy people, I could move on and help make a change somewhere else."
"…Right."
"I mean to the other settlements, Piper. The only other one that comes close to matching Sanctuary's prosperity is Starlight. The other ones are in various stages of their evolution. I'm trying to get everyone everything they need. We need to do better, get more supplies their way and more workers to put up more walls and defenses."
"I know, but if you want more places like Covenant—"
"Covenant is a ghost town."
"No thanks to you."
Blue shot her an incredulous look. "Excuse me?"
"Never mind."
"They were tormenting synths."
"I know they were—"
"And you're okay with that?"
"I'm not."
"Your paper has said otherwise."
Piper swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "Blue, what's the matter with you? I thought you were a lawyer in your former life. You know you can't dispense justice like that."
"I thought you weren't entirely sure what a real lawyer did."
"I recently found out, because I'm curious, hello."
Blue shot another look at the barkeep. "I'll need that order delivered to my office." She dug out a handful of caps. "For delivery." She glared at Piper. "This place will never have a sense of justice, so we're going to do it my way for a while, and I don't need you interfering with that."
"I'm not going to interfere, Blue, jeez. What's going on? Is this about—"
"You couldn't possibly know. I'm leaving."
"Blue—"
"I'm not a Vault Dweller. Don't call me Blue. I'm the General and that's how I expect you to address me."
Aghast, Piper watched Blue leave in a gale, and the torch Piper carried for her flickered.
"Piper?"
It was the barkeep, BT. He had permanently roughened hands and one hell of a palate. Someone must've just asked him for the umpteenth time if his initials stood for "bartender," given the silliness of the bar's name, because right now, his demeanor looked a lot like Piper's heart.
"Yeah, BT?"
"You ordering anything?"
"Um…yeah, the usual, plus an extra order…and…could you deliver that today?"
BT crossed his arms, displaying the culinary tattoos in his brown skin. "Why does everyone think we do deliveries?"
"Just today, please, I…"
"Why bother having a place for people to come to if I'm running all over town?"
A person of pale peach complexion slipped into Blue's former spot. "I got it, darlin'," Cait said to Piper. The ends of her red hair had been squared by a recent trim. "You go take a breather, preferably one with a lot of tobacco. Spotted your buddies outside. Might wanna head out before ya miss 'em."
Piper swallowed again. "Yeah. Thanks Cait. I owe you."
"Nah."
Piper headed out to the hedge beside the bar, the official smoke-break spot of her not-so-favorite Johns. Piper wondered if Hancock knew he shared a name with Deacon, or if Deacon ever found out how Piper had uncovered that smidgeon of history.
And there the Johns were, of course, smoking out of earshot of the nearest doors and windows, protected by the hedge and wall of the bar. Hancock, like Piper, wore his signature look: the red frock coat of his museum-interpreted namesake, and the dark tricorn hat that shaded his pinkish, radiation-wrinkled face. Deacon wore his Sanctuary-Only traditional garb, a teeshirt and jeans outfit, accompanied by a black leather jacket to guard against the day's chill. He even had a green woolen hat pulled over his bald, peach head today, and donned his usual sunglasses.
Deacon stepped directly in front of Piper as she walked toward them. She eyed him with confusion, momentarily forgetting her heartache. As she drew nearer, he continued to sidestep; Piper realized that he was using her to hide from MacCready, the peach-skinned, goateed, long-coat wearing mercenary heading for the bar.
"Jeez, Deacon," she said, accepting a proffered smoke from Hancock. "When are you gonna stop avoiding him?"
"For the rest of my life," Deacon said.
"I thought you two were best buddies now," Piper joked.
Hancock laughed and Deacon grimaced.
"Yeah, how about no," said Deacon. "A resounding, triple-negative, no. A super no-va! A No with a capital N-O." Deacon relaxed dramatically once MacCready entered. "To completely and obviously change the topic, what's wrong with you, Piper?"
Piper took a drag so deep that it nearly drew out an ugly cough. Wow, that would be embarrassing. "Blue is what's wrong."
"You want my advice?" asked Hancock in his smoky voice.
"Not really."
"You got it."
"Err…maybe I kind of do, but that doesn't mean I'm obligated to follow it."
"Okay, so an observation then." Hancock flicked the butt of his cigarette; ashes fluttered to the trampled mix of weeds and grass below. "She's going through some shit. I don't mean the whole deal with the portal or whatever, but some real shit. Thank this guy here for that." He checked a thumb at Deacon.
"Could you not, maybe?" said Deacon.
"Are you kidding me?" Piper clenched her jaw and gave him a little growl. "What do they have her doing this time?"
"It's not quite that."
"What's not?"
"Yeah, so I'm gonna go ahead and not talk about this stuff all openly to a reporter and put lives at risk, if that's cool with you. Even if it's not cool with you."
"Give her a break, D," said Hancock.
"Uh, no?"
"Forget it." Piper stubbed out her smoke with such fervor it bent and broke. Whatever. "This isn't about a story, guys, but I guess if you want to look at me as a story factory instead of as a person, then fine. You're not the first ones." She turned on her heel, not expecting Deacon to say anything. He was kind of a jerk like that.
"Piper, wait."
Piper didn't, so Deacon and Hancock caught up to her.
"Not here," said Deacon.
"I got a spot." Hancock indicated the Goodneighbor Embassy down the avenue.
"Fine," Piper agreed.
They walked down the avenue in silence, passing Blue's former home, and the freshly laid sidewalk up to Publick Occurrences. Others walked beside them; only Carla, her pack brahmin, and her grumpy disposition went against the flow of pedestrian traffic. Piper exchanged glances with Hancock and Deacon; they'd noticed too. Their heads collectively turned toward the boisterous mix of shouts and claps.
"Is that coming from…?" Hancock jogged ahead. Piper and Deacon followed.
The Goodneighbor Embassy consumed one of Sanctuary's original buildings, a one-level home near the corner of the main avenue and the exit-only access to Vault 111. Onlookers backed into the neon-lit sign on the Embassy's lawn, herded by a mix of Minutemen and local guards.
"Hey!" shouted Hancock, as one citizen bumped a little too hard into the fragile neons. "You mind?"
The citizen gave him apologetic brows and a soft hand gesture, then jumped at the sound of a mighty roar.
"THIS NOT MILK OF HUMAN KINDNESS!"
"Oh my god…" Piper uttered. She shoved through the onlookers, eyes set in determination, only to be met by the firm hand of a Minutemen soldier, one whose name she did not know, but whose sun-damaged, peach face she vaguely recognized, and only because of the tiny scar on his jaw, which was covered with neatly trimmed black stubble. "Let me through, I'm the press."
"No, Miss Wright," said the man. Well, that wasn't fair. "It's too dangerous."
"Of course it's dangerous! You guys are pissing off Strong!" She stepped forward again, and the Minuteman, again, met her shoulder with that firm hand. Any harder and she'd bruise. She smacked the guy's arm away and scowled, then stood on her tiptoes to get a better look over his shoulder.
A local soldier, wearing the official but controversially Gunner-like uniform of fatigues, beret, and combat armor, carted out a meatbag from Strong's shack, which Hancock had graciously allowed to be built behind the Embassy.
"You guys are stealing Strong's things?" Piper squinted at the scene. "Did the General authorize this?"
"Step back, Miss Wright."
"I will not step back," she said, shoving him before he could shove her again. She ran for the shack, where Strong, a super mutant of immense stature and a wan green complexion, stood surrounded by aimed guns.
Strong roared again. "STUPID HUMANS!"
"Miss Wright!"
Piper took a deep breath, then drew her gun on her pursuer, who flinched. "Do. Not." Those surrounding Strong, she knew, wouldn't risk aiming their weapons her way, but the Minuteman who'd really enjoyed shoving his palm into her shoulder raised his laser musket in response to her 10mm pistol.
"Hey!" Hancock emerged from the gasping crowd afar, his shotgun trained on everyone in a uniform. "You guys are on Goodneighbor's grass, and I don't recall anyone asking permission."
"Mayor Hancock," said the nameless, dark-haired Minuteman. "We have orders."
"Yeah. Orders from me." Hancock gestured off the property with his gun. "Now scram."
Another meatbag was removed. The soldier carting it stopped, her passage blocked by the standoff.
"Yeah, you're gonna turn around and return that," said Hancock. "Or explain to the General why Goodneighbor relations suddenly ain't so good. You got it?"
The soldier ignored the threat and waited.
"Strong," said Piper. "You okay?"
"Strong do nothing!" he said from behind her.
"You wanna confirm that?" Piper said to the Minuteman in her sights.
"This is a health violation," said the Minuteman, just as ready to shoot her. Hell, he looked like he wanted to. Where the hell did Garvey get a guy like this? "We are removing the hazard."
"He doesn't keep them out in the open," said Piper. "They're part of his culture, and he keeps them inside his own shack, which, as the Mayor of Goodneighbor and Ambassador from Goodneighbor just told you, is on Goodneighbor property."
"No one here agreed to cede property to Goodneighbor."
"The General ain't a nobody," said Hancock.
"I'm just following orders."
"Whose orders?" demanded Piper. She stepped forward; the Minuteman tensed. Blue's? Please, tell me it's not Blue. "Who ordered you to single out a citizen of this town for their culture?"
"Super mutants have no culture."
Strong roared again, this one a song of pain and sorrow, underscored by anger. Hancock huffed, and Piper grit her teeth. She caught the face of Cole Penny in the crowd, which had begun swinging around the corner now that this Minuteman had made a point of following her up here.
"This is an outrage," said Piper, "and you'd better damn well believe it's going to print."
"How will you print it from jail?"
"What jail?"
"The Vault."
Piper's eyes widened. Like the rest of the town, she'd believed the latest local trips up to Vault 111 were to acquire more of its resources, especially now that Blue had given Sturges and other workshops around the Commonwealth the means to build better habitats and utilities. But a jail? The Vault was no jail; it was a prison, a tomb. Yeah, Blue's little collection of allied settlements needed a system of justice and some sort of penal code, but a whole Vault? That Vault? One reliant on a terrifying elevator? Was this part of a greater plan? What was the story here? And who will be the first sentenced to do time?
Piper's nostrils flared at him. "I'm not going any—"
"What is going on here?!"
Thank goodness. Preston Garvey emerged from the parted crowd, his tan duster swaying, his dark eyes set with focus, his deep brown skin flushed with wrath. He stepped into the middle of the standoff, effectively ending it. No loyal Minuteman would train a gun on their Lieutenant General.
"Your soldiers here say they have orders to single out a super mutant citizen and destroy his culture," answered Piper. "And they're stepping on sovereign land to do it."
Garvey narrowed his eyes and pointed firmly at Strong's shack. "Return that meatbag, now."
"Sir, I'm under orders," said the soldier.
"Not my orders. Do it."
Piper wanted to chime in. She could see Hancock wanted the same. Neither could undermine Preston at a time like this, even if they were in agreement with him. The soldier reluctantly nodded, and turned the squeaking cart around, leaving a trail of blood from the seeping meatbag behind.
"Sir, if I may," said the nameless Minuteman. "There could be human meat in there."
"THERE NO HUMAN MEAT! STRONG MADE PROMISE!"
Preston quieted Strong with a hand. "He's right. Strong gets his meat the same way the rest of us do, unless you mean to tell me that someone's selling human meat at the market."
"No, Lieutenant General."
"Then I need you to personally oversee the return of all Strong's belongings to his home, then report back to HQ immediately." Preston turned toward the circle of guns, and then to the Minutemen attempting crowd control. "You all hear that? I want all of you back at HQ, ASAP. Companions, I need you on their posts until further notice. Understood?"
"Yes sir," said Piper, along with the others within earshot.
Those surrounding Strong cautiously lowered their weapons and continued to face him until they were out of arm's reach. Strong flexed and growled before approaching Preston, Piper, and Hancock.
"Strong remember Little Lady. Thank Little Lady for help. Ask Clan to crush enemies."
"I'll fix this, Strong," said Preston. "I can't promise to physically crush anyone, but those involved will be punished."
"Strong go if humans forget milk again."
"I wouldn't blame you," said Preston.
"I'm gonna take the post near my office," said Piper. The scaffolding and fresh repairs made for an eyesore against the dingy concrete, but if she had to suffer for someone else's asinine actions, she'd rather do it within yelling distance of her fellow reporters. "See you all soon."
"Yeah, real soon," said Hancock.
Preston nodded. Strong grunted.
Piper holstered her weapon and pressed through the dispersing crowd. She caught Marcy, who waited with her arms crossed. Piper almost didn't recognize her with her dark hair swept up in a ponytail, nor the touch of rouge cresting her peach cheeks. "Marcy, I need you to get Jun over to the Embassy. Catch him up, do whatever you can. I don't want to miss a beat."
Marcy's eyes held her typical, unwavering skepticism. "I don't want him in danger."
"He won't be. It's just interviews with any leftover witnesses, including Hancock. I need every detail down on paper, and I need Jun to follow the leads as needed. He'll know what to do. Can you pass that along for me? Please?"
Marcy nodded. She was Jun's biggest fan and amenable to him working on most of the stories that came his way. "As long as he won't get hurt." She waved to Piper and headed for the office, while Piper turned toward the ramparts where she would take her watch, and take a few more glances at the commotion near Vault 111.
