Author's Note:

Thanks so much to lareepqg for my first review! And a positive one, at that! You so made my day! Hope everyone likes the new chapter. I'll be pushing them out as fast as I can!


Chapter 4

Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)

"She could've been a killer

If she didn't walk the way she do

And she do

She opened strange doors

That we'd never close again"

Scary Monsters (And Super Creeps)-David Bowie


MacCready woke with a start and tumbled off the couch onto the concrete floor.

"Damn!" he swore, too tired to censor himself. The same nightmare that woke him every day was still fresh in his mind. Lucy. Ferals. Duncan's hitching baby cry. He shook his head in an attempt to clear the memories from his brain.

"Good evening," Doctor Amari spoke from the other side of the room. "I do hope you enjoyed your free lodging. But if you don't mind, I have things to do. You can show yourself out, yes?"

For a split second, Mac looked around in confusion. Where the hell was he? He spotted the empty gurney, now pushed back to its original position against a wall and devoid of an injured woman. The morning came rushing back to him.

"Hey, uh, where-" he began.

"Woke and left a few hours ago," Amari interrupted.

Gathering his things, Mac made a hasty retreat from the Memory Den. The air of desperation in that place always freaked him out. It was worse than a drug den. All those people strung out, needing another fix of good memories to get them through. There were a few drifters that seemed to live in those pods, cheeks hollow, eyes gaunt, staring at older versions of themselves in a past that they'd never get back. It was just plain creepy.

Mac emerged from the Memory Den into a downpour. At least it was just rain and not a radstorm. He made his way through the streets to Daisy's store, slightly curious to find out what had happened to the hurt woman, but mainly to see what she had in stock before he took off.

"Hey there, RJ," Daisy spoke up as he neared the counter.

"Daisy," he nodded in greeting. "Got any .308 caliber? Need to stock up before I head out."

Daisy reached under the counter. She brought out two boxes of the ammo and set it down in front of MacCready. "You finally pick up a client?" she asked as Mac counted out his caps and pushed them over.

"Naw, nothing in weeks," he replied. "That's the problem. I'm gonna head out and see what I can pick up on the road. Have to get some kinda business coming in."

Daisy paused with her hand on the pile of caps. She pushed both the boxes of ammo and the money back across the counter to Mac. He raised an eyebrow in question.

"How about I let you take this ammo, no charge, and you do me a favor. Just wait around town for another few days. If you don't get a new client before Friday, I'll set you up for a journey alone and send you on your way," Daisy smiled slyly.

He squinted at the older woman. "You know something I don't, Daisy?"

Daisy busied herself wiping down the counter. "Me? No, I don't know nothing. How's about you just humor an old lady?" she winked at Mac.

Mac considered for a moment before shoving the caps and ammo into his pack. "Alright I'll bite. But I'll see you Friday for that free stuff you promised."

She chuckled as he turned and walked away from the store. "We'll see about that!" she called to him.

Mac supposed he could humor the lady for a few days, especially since she'd just freed up some caps for him to spend at the bar by giving him the ammo at no cost. He knew he'd be leaving by Friday, though. He hadn't seen any business in weeks. What difference would another few days make?


Lydia sighed and sat up in the bed. She'd been laying there restlessly in her rented room at The Rexford for the past couple hours since leaving Daisy's.

While Daisy hadn't strictly asked for anything in return for paying for Lydia's medical treatment, she had strongly suggested that Lydia at least go meet the mercenary down in The Third Rail before leaving town. It hadn't been a direct request that she hire him, but it may as well have been. The old ghoul sure knew how to lay on the guilt.

Lydia reached into her coat pocket for her pack of cigarettes before remembering that she was wearing a different coat, her other one had been destroyed. She grabbed her bag off the floor and shook it out onto the stained mattress. A search through her possessions failed to turn up another pack and she groaned in frustration.

She pulled on her boots without bothering to lace them, stuffed her caps purse into her coat pocket, and left her rented room. Locking the door behind her, she figured she'd head down to the bar. She could certainly use a drink, and they were likely to have smokes for sale as well. And maybe she'd check out this mercenary she kept hearing about.

Lydia pushed open the door that would take her down to the old subway station that served as the town's bar. The sounds of glasses clinking, people chatting, and sultry lounge music floated up the stairs.

She was met by a ghoul in a black suit as she neared the top of the stairs. "Entertainment's down the stairs," he grunted to her. "Enjoy your stay."

Lydia nodded to the man and headed down the stairs. Taking a seat at an empty stool, she ordered a rum and Nuka-Cola from the Mister Handy tending the bar. He introduced himself as Whitechapel Charlie.

"You got a pack of smokes I can get, too?" she asked the robot as he set her drink down in front of her.

He reached a mechanical arm under the counter and produced a pack of Grey Tortoise lights, sliding them across the counter to Lydia. "Forty caps for the lot," he said in his Cockney accent.

Lydia counted out forty-five caps. She pushed the forty for the smokes and drink back across the counter and deposited the other five into the tip jar near the register. Charlie tipped his hat in thanks and moved on to serve another patron at the end of the bar.

Lydia sat at the bar and sipped her drink. The cola was flat, but she didn't expect much carbonation from a two-hundred plus year old bottle of soda. But it was cold, at least. The first chilled drink she'd had in the Wasteland. She shook a cigarette out of the pack and lit it, savoring the smoke that filled her lungs.

The lounge singer in the corner finished up her song and the bar broke out in half-hearted applause. She stepped off the stage and took a seat at the bar next to Lydia.

"Hello, stranger," the woman greeted. She held out a perfectly polished hand to Lydia.

Lydia transferred the cigarette to her left hand and reached out to accept the handshake.

"Magnolia," the singer purred.

"Lydia."

The women ended their shake and Magnolia snapped her fingers at Charlie. "Vodka, dear!" she called to the butler before turning her gaze back to Lydia.

"So," Magnolia began, "what vault did you crawl out of?" She gestured to Lydia's Pip-boy.

"Jesus," Lydia swore. "Might as well get 'vaultie' tattooed on my forehead."

Magnolia laughed. "You're pretty. Too fresh-faced to have spent much time above ground."

"Maybe I need to wear a mask," Lydia mused.

"Use what you got, honey. A pretty face can go a long way toward getting what you want." At that moment, Charlie floated over and placed a short glass of vodka down in front of the singer. "What's the damage, Charlie?" she asked, batting her long lashes up at the robot.

"No charge for you, love," Charlie tipped his hat to Magnolia and again floated away down the bar.

Magnolia raised her eyebrows at Lydia in a look that said, 'You see?' and stood up from the barstool.

Lydia turned sideways on the stool and watched as the singer once again took the stage, red dress sparkling under the spotlights. She sat there for a few songs, sipping her drink and enjoying the music.

She'd just finished the last of her drink and signaled to Charlie for another round when two rough looking men descended the stairs into the bar. They marched over and stepped up to the counter.

"Hey!" one of the men spoke up, catching Charlie's attention. He dropped a fistful of caps onto the bar. "You got a merc doing business out of this shit-hole?"

Charlie set Lydia's drink down in front of her before turning to the man. "I don't give out information to apes that insult my establishment," he spat. He pushed the man's pile of caps back across the bar.

Lydia smirked and took a sip of her drink.

"Now listen here, you rusted pile of scrap," the gruff man said angrily, his face turning an ugly shade of red. Before he could finish the threat, he was interrupted by an obviously strung-out junkie who leaned over from the neighboring barstool.

"Hey now," the junkie slurred, "I'll tell ya whatcha wanna know, you slide that pile of caps over my way." He stared at the caps with glazed, bloodshot eyes.

"There's a smart man," the thug roughly patted the junkie on the back and slid the caps his way.

The junkie pointed over his shoulder to a doorway at the rear of the room. "You're lookin' for MacCready. Works outta that room." The junkie turned and pushed his newly acquired pile of caps over the bar to Charlie. "Give me whatever that'll buy," he ordered the bartender.

Charlie glared (if a robot could glare, that's what Lydia would have called the look he shot at the thug) at the man. "Start any fights in my bar and you won't be walking out of here," Charlie warned.

"Don't get your circuits in a twist, we just wanna chat. C'mon, Barnes," he motioned the other man to follow and headed for the back room.

Lydia took another sip of her drink, then got up off the stool to follow the thugs. One of her objectives in coming to the bar was to check out the mercenary, and she was curious to see what the assholes wanted with him. She crept up to the doorway and quietly slipped into the room.

"Can't say I'm surprised to find you in a dump like this, MacCready," the man who'd spoken at the bar said.

Leaning up against a wall, Lydia made sure to stay out of sight. She quietly sipped her drink and listened to the men's conversation.