Chapter 3

The smell of musty rock and moss filled the air, the radio's set to a secret signal were beeping information via Morse Code. Desdemona held a cigarette in one hand and her head in the other. She stared with deep intent at the map in front of her, trying to figure out where her lost agent was. For once, she hoped they had gone rouge.

"Where are you Deacon?" Dez sighed. Just then, the door to the back entrance swung open and slammed shut.

"Dez!" Agent Charmer yelled from the back tunnel. Soon, Nora and Hancock, rushed to Dez's side and peered down at the marked up map in front of her. Blue pins in important locations, red where enemies had been spotted, and a new color which was white. "Did Deacon show up at all?"

"No, not at all," Dez said, tossing her cigarette onto the pile of smoldering ashes she had been neglecting to pick up for some time.

"Then, what's this business about not picking up a dead drop?" Nora said, confused.

"Before Deacon leaves to explore the Commonwealth, we send him off with a dead drop location, where we would send off useful information when he returns. That way, if there are enimies along the normal route to HQ, he knows about it. He was to go to that location and pick it up. We always have an agent watching that bin at all times, gave them a list of people who know about it, to make sure that no one just so happens to discover it," Dez pulled out a Technical Document with an encrypted message on it, "Someone found the bin alright. But instead of picking up, they were dropping off." Dez handed the paper to Nora who looked at it with curious eyes. The note read: "

"This looks like a Caesar Cipher to me," she said.

"That's what I thought too," Dez lit another cigarette and took a puff, "we have an agent working to decode it as we speak."

"But, then, there's the question: Where is Deacon?"

"We had a few sightings of him from a few railroad spies. The white pins on the map are where we confirmed the sighting." Nora looked down and studied it. There were white pins near the Boston Library, Swan's Lake, and near the police station. All three were close to the Dead Drop Point. But, when was the last time he was spotted? That's the question they needed to answer.

"I don't need to be a genius to tell you who can help you with that code Nora," Hancock pitched in, he was leaning on one of the pillars with his arms crossed, "Nick can help us out."

"You're right, Dez, don't worry we'll find him," Nora said. Dez didn't show any signs of it, but she was worried. Nora could just feel the tension around her. Ever since they lost Glory, Dez had been working hard to rewrite their safety protocols and told her agents not to take as many risks than before. Losing Deacon like this, could not be setting well.

"Dez, Deacon is a good agent. Hell, he was able to follow me around and I had no idea anything was up. He's smart enough to be ok, for now. I'm gonna find him," Nora said. She turned and started towards the door. Hancock gave Dez a sympathetic smile before following her out.

Once outside the church, they looked around for anybody at all. Being careful that nobody saw them leave this spot. A street that once been thriving with pedestrians, once again was dead dry of prying eyes. They immediately headed towards Diamond City, to Nick Valentine's Detective Agency. They walked at a quickened pace. Hancock stared at the ground, following her, lost in thought. It was a while before Nora got the courage to ask what was bothering him.

"What is it Hancock?"

"What, oh, nothing. I was just thinking," he said, "you know I don't like the guy to much. But I give him credit for how resourceful he is. It's odd for him to just up and vanish like this. Something tells me that he didn't plan on disappearing."

"Yeah," Nora stuttered.

"If someone did take him, they already knew who to look for. Especially with all the disguises he packs."

"I sometimes don't recognize him."

"See!" Hancock exclaimed, "You even know the guy and he still nails those disguises. All I'm saying is, whatever happened to him, it was done by someone who know's what they're doing." Nora's eyebrows pierced together, an emptiness appeared in her stomach.

"Maybe, maybe I should've went with him…" Hancock felt his gut drop. He didn't foresee the conversation taking this turn.

"Don't go blaming yourself for this, it wasn't your fault," Hancock said. Nora sighed and kept walking.

"I, I know it wasn't my fault. I just can't shake the "what if's" out of my head."

"You gonna be ok?"

"Yeah, I'm gonna be ok, I'm gonna be ok when we find Deacon and obliterate the assholes that snatched him."

Night fell upon the waste land, it was dark enough to see The Great Green Jewel's lights from anywhere. Nora and Hancock walked up upon the pinkish glowing sign that read "Nick Valentine's Detective Agency." He was the man for the job.

Inside was dusty and the air was thick of smoke from the cigarettes he always lit but never brought them up to his lips. Old habits die hard, even if an old clunker like Nick couldn't enjoy what started it in the first place. Sitting at his desk, burning cigarette in hand, he stared down at a new case file. Someone had left their loved one without a word, the customer was worried. His thoughts were interrupted by the screeching sound of his office door being opened. He looked up and was quite glad to see a dear friend walk through the door.

"Good to see you Nora, long time no see."

"Yeah, I didn't want to bother you because I've heard that your were busy enough cracking a speal of new cases," Nora said. Her eyes wandered to the floor: glossy, red, and puffy. Nick discarded his cigarette and stood to his feet.

"What's the matter?" He asked. Just then, the door squeaked open again. Hancock walked in and quickly closed the door behind him, leaning against it, he waved at Nick and gave an uneasy smile.

"Some glorified group attacked Sanctuary Hills," Nora said. Her throat choked up. Her nose was runny and her eyes turned an even brighter shade of red. Hancock sighed and pierced his eyebrows together.

"The deal is, they were working with the Institute Nick. They aren't to happy we blew the place up," Hancock said. Nick let out a huge sigh.

"We'll I'll be…guess we're not done kicking asses yet. Is everyone ok?"

"McCready got shot, he… um… almost didn't make it," Nora swallowed.

"Yeah, McCready is a tough cookie, I'll give him that. Even if he doesn't trust me. Anything else?"

"Yeah, Deacon, he's," Nora took a shaky breath, "He's missing. Nobody has seen him for days."

"Oh, shit," Nick mumbled, "Where was he last seen?"

"Just a couple blocks west of The Church, it's more of a maybe. Nobody can recognize him in his disguises," Nora stuttered.

"That's what I'm afraid of. What captures my attention is the attack prior to his disappearance. He could've been followed, tagged, or even drugged. As you said, he's pretty hard to recognise."

"That's what I thought too, this is so not our week," Hancock added.

"Tell me everything about this new group who hates your guts, pretty sure they had something to do with this. Take a seat and tell me everything, do not spare any detail."

Bug eyes popped out of his body, his face was twisted and contorted; his swollen purple tongue hung out. His body swayed in the breeze and roaring cheers came from the crowd. They were laughing. As if this was some good act of service to the rest of the Commonwealth. The more cheering and laughter emerged, the more blurred the swaying body's face was. Then, he saw it, it was but his own hanging. It was Deacon's body that was swaying in the breeze.

Deacon jumped awake. A low, constant, ringing was in his ears. It felt like a really bad hangover, but there was no way that he drank too much moonshine. The taste of blood tainted his mouth as he slowly became more alert. Little by little, his entire body came back to reality. Every bit of him ached.

The room was made out of concrete, it looked like one of the bunkers he'd been inside of. The bright, harsh, artificial lights made his aching head even worse. It was like someone was reaching into his brain and just twisting it up. The rope, that was used to tie him down in a chair, rubbed against his wrists and ankles. He struggled against them, but, the more he struggled the tighter they got. Deacon gritted his teeth. This was a fine mess he's gotten himself into.

Upon further inspection, he was in a locked room. It seemed you needed a terminal to unlock the door. Probably password protect as well. Deacon tilted his head down, to help block out the light, when he noticed that his sunglasses weren't slipping off. In fact, they weren't even on his face. But, somehow, the Pompadour wig he had on, stayed on. The worn wielders clothes he wore were a little more muddy than usually.

On the other side of the door, Deacon heard people mumbling, his eyebrows pierced together as the door finally screeched open. Some assholes in Military figurines walked in with heavy black boots and a AK-47 in hand. One had dark skin and the other was tan, upon the tan guys face rested his sunglasses. They both stood at each side of the entrance to the door.

"So, uh, I don't know if you know this, but, uh; those are my sunglasses you seem to have taken for yourself. Also, whoever you're looking for, I'm obviously not that person. So, if you could untie me and let me on my way, I won't cause you any trouble," Deacon tilted his head and gave a convincing smile, "Promise!" The two guys looked at each other and chuckled. Suddenly, loud footsteps where heard beyond the darkened door way and were getting closer.

"Deacon, is it?" A deep, dark voice said coming from the shadowy area beyond the door.

"Uh, no, names Larry. Although, Deacon is close…"

"Ahh, you banter like a child!" He stepped into the light. Deacon started giggling. "What are you laughing at?!"

"Nothing! It's just this little joke that popped into my head. It's not even that funny, got a short laugh out of me at first," Deacon giggled. The henchmen at the doors had a small smile across their face as they towered over their commander. He had black, curly hair. His face was coarse and grumpy looking, with a burn across the middle of his face.

"I see, making fun of my size, pretty brave for someone in your position," he slowly waltzed over to Deacon, "like being Mr. Perky, do we?" He circled around him, like a hungry lion stalking his prey. A really small, hungry lion. "That won't last long."

"So, at which, do I owe the pleasure to. For kidnapping a senseless, ol' wielder like me?"

"None of your concern. We have some questions we want answered. Very simple, you help us out, you live. You don't help us out, you will experience pain and suffering like never before. It would be like a nightmare you can't wake up from," he growled, staring into Deacon's soul. Deacon smiled awkwardly and tilted his head back.

"Uh, I don't know how I could possibly help you. Like I said before, my name is, Larry. I'm a welder and that guy has my sunglasses and I want those back! Those were 15 caps man, show some respect and dignity. They are mine!" Deacon said. The small, precious, hamster gritted his teeth and snapped his fingers. Soon, a cart full of all sorts of surprises was welded into the room. There was a creepy guy, who had a tall and slender build with a surgical mask and rubber gloves on. He wore a old lab coat and had wild eyes. He stood behind the cart, which displayed all sorts of potential bloody endeavors. The little man had a sickly grin on his face.

"Question number one, where is the Railroad HQ?"