By the time that Ramona and Nick arrived in Goodneighbor, the Commonwealth sun hung low in the sky, threatening to sink below the horizon within only a few hours. They had left Diamond City around mid-morning, bidding Dogmeat and Ellie a temporary farewell. They had taken a slightly longer route up north across the Charles River and back around, across the bridge. Nick had told her that the walk would be a little longer, but the lack of super mutant encampments would certainly make up for the few extra miles, and Ramona eagerly agreed. Of all of the new creatures she had familiarized herself with upon waking up, deathclaws were the most horrid, with the super mutants being a close second. Just the sight of either creature was enough to freeze her blood and set her into a panic. If in some terrible twist of fate she were to die out here in the Commonwealth, she just didn't want it to be at the hands- or claws- of a deathclaw or a mutant. Anything but a deathclaw or a mutant. Hell, she'd rather step off the side of the tallest building in Boston.
About a half hour before the pair closed in on the town, Nick made sure to warn her about the lunacy that was Goodneighbor.
"A town of misfits, is what it is," he told her, frowning. "A lot of the townsfolk there either aren't welcome or don't fit in in Diamond City, so they go to Goodneighbor. Hancock is the Mayor over there- he's quite the character."
After a full thirty minutes of Nick's tales of chem-peddling criminals from Goodneighbor and husbands escaping to Goodneighbor in search of chems and excitement, and other such lowlives, Ramona grew ever anxious by the minute. When they came into view of the town, Ramona noticed an array of brightly colored neon lights indicating the entrance. She just wanted to get in, hire a damn merc, and get out as quickly as they could, but even the outskirts of the city looked dangerous. They had to keep their heads low to avoid the attention of a group of Gunners, just several feet away from the gates.
"Try not to draw too much attention to ourselves," Nick whispered to her.
As fate would have it, they wouldn't be so lucky. Almost as soon as they stepped inside Goodneighbor, Nick and Ramona had already drawn said unwanted attention.
A rough-looking man who had been standing a few feet from the gates, leaning against the concrete wall had his eyes trained on them menacingly, as he silently puffed on his cigarette. Ramona tried to avoid eye contact, but the man was already slinking over to them, his ugly face twisted in something akin of a snarl. She glanced unsurely at Nick as the man approached him, the synth giving her a quick nod before they both turned to face the man.
"Well, well," he growled, his voice rough. "It's the detective. Tracking down another wayward husband to his mistress?"
"Why, someone stand you up?" Nick shot back, not missing a beat. Ramona fought back a grin.
The man didn't find it so funny. "Tryin' that, what d'ya call it? Evasive language, on me? And who's the Vaultie, huh?" he questioned, turning his attention to Ramona. "Valentine's new dick-in-training?"
She glared at him. "What's it to you?"
"Gotta know who's backing who, here in Goodneighbor. I ain't never seen you before. Maybe you're in the market for a little… insurance?"
How stupid did this guy think they were? "Um… we're not interested, but thanks."
"I think we can handle ourselves," agreed Nick.
The man made a tsk'ing noise with his tongue, shaking his head condescendingly at them. "Now come on," he said. "Don't be like that. Just hand over everything you got in them pockets, or 'accidents' start happinin' to ya. Big, bloody, 'accidents.'"
"Woah, woah," someone interrupted from behind the man. "Time out."
Ramona looked up to see who'd interrupted them, and nearly did a double take. What was probably the most flamboyantly dressed ghoul she'd yet to see was sauntering over to the man, throwing up his hands dramatically. He was wearing a red frock coat that looked oddly familiar, with a tricorn hat atop his hairless head.
"Nick Valentine makes a rare visit to town, and you're hassling his friend here with that extortion crap?" the ghoul hummed, shaking his head. "Good to see you again, Nick," he said with a charming grin towards the detective.
"Hancock," said Nick flatly. Ramona looked between the two. So this was the eccentric Mayor of Goodneighbor that Nick had mentioned earlier… but Nick had failed to mention that he was a ghoul. Still, he had an air of… suavity about him, that was for sure. She recognized his red frock at that moment- they were the clothes of the original John Hancock. She had seen them in a display case some number of years ago, but now the embellished coat looked frayed and dull. Even so, it stood out among everything else.
"What d'you care?" demanded the man. "He ain't one of us, and neither is this Vault girl, here!"
"No love for your Mayor, Finn? I said let 'em go."
Finn snorted, as if that was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "You're soft, Hancock," Finn accused. "You keep letting outsiders walk all over us, one day there'll be a new Mayor!"
Ramona glanced warily at Hancock, whose black eyes had narrowed into a look of contempt. Clearly, Finn had struck a nerve.
"Come on, man. This is me we're talking about," growled Hancock, stalking closer to Finn threateningly. Finn looked as if he wanted to take a step back, but he stood his ground as Hancock got up in his face. "Let me tell you something…"
Without warning, Mayor Hancock was stabbing Finn repeatedly in the chest, letting his dead body carelessly fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. Ramona's eyes widened in horror at the display- Hancock simply turned around and gave a nod to his bodyguard, the redheaded woman leaning coolly against the wall, and the passing drifters just glanced at Finn's corpse and shook their heads, carrying on with their business. Nick had told her that Goodneighbor was filled with lowlifes, but… she really hadn't expected it to be this bad. The Mayor, of all people, killing people in the streets. Her mind barely registered Nick placing a protective hand on her shoulder, but not even that was enough to rouse her from her shock. She'd taken lives out here, but never someone who hadn't shot at her first. It was usually raiders, faceless behind a mask and nameless, soulless. Afterwards, she'd try not to think about it, but this… this was different.
"Now why'd you have to go and say that, huh? Breaking my heart over here," mumbled Hancock, before looking back up at Ramona, who was still standing agape at the scene. "You all right, sister?"
"You… you killed him," was all she could manage, which earned a snort from him.
"Got a good pair of eyes on ya. I think you'll fit in around here," he said with an air of sarcasm. "Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people, you feel me? Everyone's welcome."
"Of the people, for the people?" She repeated back to him, some of her confidence returning. "Sounds like anarchy to me."
"Heh! I can tell I'm gonna like you already. Just consider this town your home away from home… So long as you remember who's in charge. So, any reason in particular you two decided to stop by our little community, here?"
"We're looking for a hired gun," replied Nick, lighting a cigarette. Ramona wondered briefly if smoking relaxed him, or it was just for dramatic flair. "Got any recommendations, for us?"
Hancock rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yeah, sure I do, sure I do. There's a kid over at The Third Rail, but don't let his age fool you- he's one hell of a sharpshooter. MacCready's his name. Kid'll do just about anything for a pile of caps."
"Thanks for the help, Hancock," said Valentine quickly. "We'd best be on our way." Hancock tipped the brim of his tricorn in response, giving them a short wave before slinking back over to the Old State House, towards his bodyguard.
"So… that's Mayor Hancock," she whispered to Nick once Hancock was out of earshot. "He didn't have to kill the guy. I mean, he was being a total asshole, but he didn't have to just… kill him." She shook her head. She was starting to think that she would never get used to the strange ways of this world.
"He's very, ah, bombastic, if you will. Suppose he likes to make an example of his dissenters. That's Commonwealth justice for ya," said Nick, frowning. "The days before the war may not have been perfect, but they at least had law to keep some semblance of order. Out here, it's just chaos."
Ramona raised an eyebrow, as they strolled over to the small marketplace area across from the Old State House. "How much knowledge does a, uh, synth such as yourself have about pre-war law, anyway?"
He looked at her, considering the question for a moment. "I know that the Institute made me look like some old bot, but I've got memories. From… from before. My memories, my personality, they're all lifted from some cop who volunteered for an experiment, back before the war. They scanned his brain and copied it onto the hardware that runs between my ears. Don't know why they chose to make a robot based on some pre-war cop instead of a math genius, or a bioengineer. Maybe that's why they tossed me in the garbage, instead of turning me into one of their people snatchers."
"Wait… so you have memories from my time?"
"Sure do. Which meant, when I finally ended up out here, it was quite the rude awakening. Suffice to say, it was a confusing couple of weeks."
Ramona shook her head, laughing bitterly. "Can't say I don't know how that feels." The whole thing was very strange. Everyone she'd met and talked to out here in the Commonwealth looked at her as if she was some kind of antique to be stared at and questioned relentlessly, although the blue jumpsuit probably didn't help. Piper had said that she'd looked like a fish out of water. For some reason, with the knowledge that Nick had probably had the same feelings, the same bewilderment she'd felt after leaving Vault 111, she felt a warmth in her chest. This detective, who was helping her find her baby… he knew how she felt.
Nick seemed to catch her train of thought. "Sure feels like there's a cliché in here somewhere," he said, giving her a modest smile.
"It's buried underneath all that terrible humor of yours," she quipped back. Nick chuckled.
"You keep that talk up, Cooper, I might just start thinking we're friends," he said. A wide grin broke out onto Ramona's face. She said nothing, just shaking her head, unable to wipe that dopey grin off her face.
"Why don't we stock up on some supplies before looking for our sharpshooter friend? I don't want to stay in this town any longer than I have to," she admitted.
"Lead the way," Nick replied faithfully.
"Do you know what it's like? Being as old as ghoul?" asked the shopkeeper. Ramona had been looking to stock up her water and ammunition supply, but the charming ghoul behind the counter had gotten them chatting. Daisy was her name- over 270 years old, which had caught Ramona's interest. While they were chatting, Nick had taken to giving himself a tour of the town.
"Actually, yeah. I do," she replied, earning a skeptical laugh from the woman.
"Well, now you're just making fun of me," Daisy said. "If you were as old as I was, you would've been around since before the War!"
"A little over 230, actually," Ramona insisted. "And I have been around since before the war."
Daisy laughed again, clearly in disbelief. "So, let's hear it. Tell me what the world was like before the War, if you're so ancient."
Ramona paused for a minute and considered her old life, a mental juxtaposition in her mind of the old world, and this new one she had found herself in. At a first glimpse into her memories, her old life was peaceful, and serene. A white picket fence, a shiny Corvega sitting in the driveway, the greenest grass you've ever seen… but at the same time, such sinister things were growing under that illusion of peace. Ramona had lost count of the number of days around her and Nate's home in Sanctuary Hills- she'd been pregnant with Shaun, at home cleaning, or cooking, or studying, trying to tune out the horrible things she'd hear on the news channel. Riots breaking out in Denver because of the New Plague, wars over resources, the revelation of the FEV research and all its controversy, the annexation of Canada, the constant looming threat of nuclear war- always rumored, but she'd never honestly expected that it would happen. That fateful morning of October 23rd, 2077 was a nightmare that she'd never be able to wake up from. God, she could still hear that bomb going off over Boston in the back of her mind.
And now, here she was. The Commonwealth may be a huge pile of shit, but at least she didn't have to deal with passive aggressive neighbors, or jealous coworkers. Out here, if someone didn't like you, it was pretty easy to be able to tell, because they were probably shooting at you. In some strange twisted way, that was almost a comfort.
"The world before was nothing but petty governments going to war, dragging us into it, and shooting whoever refused to clean up the mess," she spat harshly, earning some curious looks from the nearby drifters just looking for a bite to eat or a bed to sleep in.
Daisy nodded solemnly. "You know, I had a husband that was killed in the war with the Reds. They didn't even tell me where he died… huh. Classified information, and all that."
"I'm sorry about your husband," Ramona said quietly. Daisy just shook her head, that coy smile creeping back onto her face.
"You know, if you haven't already, you should check out the Hotel Rexford. There's another pre-war Ghoul hanging around there."
"I'll try to stop by," she said, genuinely interested in the idea. Maybe talking about the old world before the war would prevent her from forgetting it all. It was painful to talk about the way things used to be, but in a way, Ramona felt some sort of sick pleasure out of it all. She wished for nothing more every day than to just go back, to the way things used to be, where life was so simple and her biggest worry was about getting Shaun to bed on time. The perfect life, all ripped away from her in what felt like minutes.
She stared at the sleeve of her blue Vault suit, resenting its bright color and the painful memories it aroused. Reasoning that they most likely wouldn't have been targeted so quickly by Finn if she had been wearing something a little more covert, she asked Daisy if she had any other clothes lying around that she could buy.
"I might have a few things," Daisy said, checking her shelves. "Nothing too fancy, but it'll cover your behind and draw less attention." Within a few minutes she'd gathered some old jeans, a faded blue and orange flannel, and a brown leather jacket. After momentarily lamenting the fact that she couldn't escape from the color blue, she bought them as well as some leather armor to discreetly strap on over her jeans and under the leather jacket.
With that, she finished up her purchase and backed away from the counter, accidentally bumping in to someone standing a foot or two behind. Ramona whirled around in alarm, only to see that it was a drifter.
"Woah woah, lady," he said with a sheepish smile.
"Oh, god, sorry about that!" she mumbled, her cheeks slightly reddening. "I should have been looking where I was going."
She observed the man she'd bumped into, for some reason unable to shake the thought that he looked strangely familiar. His head was completely bald, and he wore a pair of sunglasses- other than that, completely unsuspecting. "Have we met before?" she asked carefully, doing her best not to stare.
The drifter just chuckled. "Nah, don't think so. I've just got one of those faces, you know?" he glanced over at the market area where she'd just been standing before bumping so rudely into him. "I'd better get going, got some trading to do. You know, for trade stuff!"
Ramona nodded awkwardly and stepped away from him, a little mystified by that encounter. She changed into her new clothes and tucked the blue vault suit safely into her bag, as she couldn't decide whether she should keep it or try and get a few caps out of it. Instead of making a decision, Ramona set her mind on looking for Nick, who'd wandered off earlier. She felt a little lighter than before- the blue Vault suit had been tight and uncomfortable, as it clung to every slope and curve of her body. Looser, plainer clothes felt much more natural, and she felt fewer stares on her back. After a few brief minutes of searching, she'd found Nick by the Hotel Rexford, apparently engaged in conversation with one of Goodneigbor's residents. She approached, tuning in to their words.
"Nicky, you old dog, how has nobody put a bullet in you, yet? Aw, you need to come by, everyone would be so happy to see ya again!"
"Well, unfortunately I'm a bit busy at the moment, but I'd love to-" started Nick, but Ramona interrupted him.
"Oh come on, Nick. No self-respecting gumshoe such as yourself should keep his fans wanting," she teased with a smile. "You should catch up with him for a bit, I can take care of business on my own."
Nick raised a metal brow in surprise. "Well well, almost didn't recognize you there, kid. Decide to ditch the Vault getup, now?"
"Yeah, I think it was clashing too much with the red in my hair. This is much better, dontcha' think?"
"Clashing, huh? And here I was thinking you were a blonde," he mumbled, shaking his head. Ramona rolled her eyes. "I won't leave ya to go in there yourself. Some of the mercenaries around here don't exactly cut a fair deal."
She rolled her eyes. "What, don't think I can handle it? I used to be a lawyer, you know. Besides, don't you think that your negotiation skills might be a little… rusty?" she snickered at her own pun, while Nick sighed dejectedly.
"Ever the smartmouth, aren't ya? I'll let you at it then, kid. Don't get in too much trouble without me, alright?"
Ramona grinned. "Wouldn't dream of it, Nick." They made plans to meet at the Hotel Rexford in the morning, as the sky was already darkening and being a Gen 2.5 synth, he didn't exactly need rest like she did, and she made her way over to the Third Rail, checking the time on her Pip-Boy. She was interrupted by the screech of a crow, and she frantically looked all around her to see where the noise had come from. A couple of crows were perched atop the railing of the Old State House, staring at her with beady black eyes. She waited for them to scream again at her, but they stayed silent, simply staring.
Dismissing the birds, she glanced back down at her Pip-Boy and continued on. '10.31.2287. 8:56 PM' it read, and she felt a twinge of sadness as she stepped inside the old subway station. Ramona and Nate had been looking forward to their first holiday season with their newborn son, Halloween being one of their favorites. Nate had surprised her with an adorable lion costume for Shaun to wear, and her lip trembled at the memory. Maybe they would be reunited in time for Shaun's second Halloween, but that costume had likely been torn to shreds along with that old house back in Sanctuary Hills. She hadn't even gone inside her old home yet, afraid of the ghosts there she might find.
Immediately after she closed the subway door behind her, the warm sound of jazz music washed over her, bringing with it a sense of lucidity. She only partially noticed a ghoul standing near the entrance of the stairwell, hearing nothing but the muffled tune drawing her in nearer and nearer. As if in a trance, she descended the stairwell into the bar and saw the singer- a dazzlingly beautiful woman in red.
I see you lookin' around the corner
Come on inside and pull up a chair
No need to feel like a stranger
'Cause we're all a little strange in here…
Ramona obeyed the woman in red's command and went further inside, unable to tear her gaze away from her. "Who is she?" she breathed to whoever it was that was standing next to her. It didn't matter.
The drifter glanced at her in surprise. "You new around here? That's Magnolia, the flower of The Third Rail. Magnolia and a bottle of bourbon- best way to drown your sorrows."
Have you got a history that needs erasing?
Did you come in just for the beer and cigarettes?
A broken down dream you're tired of chasing?
Oh well, I'm just the girl to make you forget…
Bewitched by Magnolia's raven hair, and the way that her red dress shone in the spotlight, everything else melted away. She'd never taken a hit of Jet, or anything really, but she imagined that this was how it would feel. Ramona had always loved music, especially live performances, and she found herself drifting closer and closer to the bar.
So we're glad you dropped by
Come in and loosen up your tie
Have a drink or maybe just one more
Much to her surprise, the bartender she found behind the counter was not a person, but a Mr. Handy robot, appropriately hatted with a bowler. "Oi. You want a drink?" said the robot with a Cockney accent as she approached, seemingly disgruntled about something. Before she knew it, she had a whiskey neat in hand and was growing more placid by the second. She hadn't taken a proper drink since she'd woken up from the Vault, and this was a rare opportunity to check out of reality for a moment, however brief it may be.
But if you're searching for something
To bring you comfort
Oh well, I'm the one you're looking for
"You know where I can find someone named… MacCready?" she asked after throwing back the glass. It burned as it went down, and the Mr. Handy behind the bar made a sound of annoyance.
"He's in the back," it said simply, gesturing with a robotic limb toward the VIP lounge at the far side of the bar. She grabbed what was left of her drink and stalked towards the back room, emboldened by the rush of the drink and the cool croon of the saxophone. Glancing down the hallway, she saw two intimidating looking men standing inside the lounged area bathed in red light, speaking to someone that she could not see.
"Can't say I'm surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready," growled one of the men, catching Ramona's attention. She strained to listen, but Magnolia's song drowned out much of their words.
Now, is your motor running close to empty
Or are you running from yourself?
You thirsty for a brand new kind of pleasure
Or are you hungry to be somebody else?
She heard someone arguing with the two men, with a brusque and yet surprisingly boyish tone. She recalled Hancock commenting earlier on this MacCready's age, but she hadn't thought much of it. Ramona crept further into the room, trying to make herself seen without interrupting the testosterone-fueled argument.
So sit down your pretty face
You came to the right place
Oh where every night starts once more…
When the two men had apparently had enough, they stalked away, glaring at her as they stepped past. "Move aside," grumbled one of them to her and she obeyed. Once they were gone, Ramona stepped fully into the lounge area, her eyes finally landing on MacCready.
I'm telling you friend
Your search is at an end
'Cause I'm the one you're looking for…
Ramona felt some of her assurance fading away as the song ended, and the spell was over. It was back in an instant though, as she and MacCready both sized each other up. He was glaring at her with blue eyes, clearly aggravated that she had walked in on the argument.
"Look, lady. If you're preaching about the Atom, or looking for a friend, you've got the wrong guy. If you need a hired gun… then maybe we can talk," he said, taking a cautious swig from his drink, his eyes never leaving hers.
Ramona narrowed her eyes. "That was the plan. Why don't you tell me who those two guys were, first?" she asked, her voice more sounding more confident than she felt.
He snorted. "A couple of morons, looking to climb the ladder of success by stepping on everyone else on their way up. You shouldn't be surprised, though. That's how it goes, when you run with the Gunners."
"I'm interested in your services," she said, "But it sounds like you've got some extra baggage. That can be dangerous."
He sighed. "You have nothing to worry about. Those two are weaker than a housefly, and about half as smart put together. I don't want the stink of Winlock and Barnes rubbing off on me and scaring away my business," he muttered. "Now, what about you? How do I know I won't end up with a bullet in my back?"
"You don't," she said simply. "That's just a part of life around here, isn't it?"
"Can't argue with that," he agreed, although his expression deepened into a frown. "What's the job, then?"
At the question, Ramona's eyes flashed. "I'm looking for someone. I've got a lead, but it may be dangerous. So, I need someone to watch my back. What do you say?"
He mulled over it for a few short seconds and then took another swig of his drink before settling his gaze back on her. "I'll tell you what. Price is two hundred and fifty caps up front, and there's no room for bargaining." She studied him for a moment, thinking about his offer. She had about four hundred on her at the moment, and two-fifty caps would cut that amount significantly, but she'd already gotten all of the supplies they would need to hunt down Kellogg. Ramona thought that she could talk him down to two hundred, but she observed his dirty, torn duster and his features, so rugged for someone so young. God, he was probably only a year or two younger than her. She decided against it.
"Two-fifty it is," she agreed, scrounging in her bag for the right amount and handing the man his payment.
"All right boss," he said, tucking the caps away into his duster. "You've just bought yourself an extra gun. What's the plan then?" MacCready asked, gesturing for her to take a seat on one of the two sofas in the lounge. She sat down, drink in hand, not commenting on her new title. He sat on the opposite sofa, keeping a respectable distance.
Thinking over her and Nick's plan, Ramona decided that she wasn't going to tell this guy the whole story. He didn't need to know every little thing about her- he was there because he would be the extra edge they'd need in combat, and that was all.
"Are you familiar with Nick Valentine?" she asked warily, finishing off the rest of her whiskey. She noticed him watching her unabashedly as she savored the drink, eyeing his own empty bottle of beer.
"Yeah, yeah, I've heard of him. That synth detective over in Diamond City, right? What's he got to do with this?"
"I've been working with him, trying to find my son, Shaun. He was kidnapped," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She avoided MacCready's eyes as soon as she'd spoken, but she would have been surprised by the sudden emotion in them in response to her words. Transfixed by the patterns on the wall, Ramona missed entirely the look of sadness her words brought to MacCready's face. His jaw tightened, his own eyes lowered in some unreadable emotion, but he said nothing.
"We… we think that a man named Kellogg may have him, or at least know what happened to him. The thing is, he's rumored to be incredibly dangerous. A mercenary, as you'd have it. Probably has an entire arsenal on him."
MacCready rubbed his chin, taking in this new information. "Hold up… you said his name was Kellogg?"
She glanced up in surprise, finally looking him in the eye. "You've heard of him?"
"Sure have. That guy is pretty da- darn high up on the Gunners' Most Wanted list. No one knew anything about how to track him down, though. Guy's a total enigma. Sure hope you've got a good lead, boss."
Ramona raised a brow at his quick correction, but didn't think on it for more than a second. "I hope so too… Nick, ah- Valentine and I managed to get into an old house he had and he had a bunch of stogies lying around, among other things. Valentine seems to think that my dog can latch on to the scent and show us where Kellogg is hiding," she said, realizing how crazy that their plan probably sounded. Entrusting the entirety of their search to a dog didn't sound like the ideal plan for tracking down a kidnapper, but it was all she had.
After he thought on it for a minute or two, MacCready nodded. "Alright, then. When do we leave?"
Ramona almost sighed in relief that he didn't argue, but realized that for the right number of caps, this guy would probably run with whatever crazy, futile plan she had thought up, but she really thought that this could work. It had to work. "First thing in the morning," she decided aloud, getting to her feet. "Meet me by the marketplace just before dawn. I want to hunt down that bastard as soon as I can."
