"You were the last person who saw her!" Hancock roared, slamming the mercenary against the State House wall, his forearm sinking into the man's windpipe.

"I went straight to see KLEO after I left the Memory Den. Ask her!" he yelled back, his voice straining from the weight of Hancock's arm against it.

"Nobody else saw her after she left. She was alone with you in that room. You don't think that's just a little fucking suspicious?"

It was well past midnight. When Scarlet had failed to return, Hancock had immediately feared the worst and began scouring Goodneighbor for her. Everyone he talked to claimed they saw her going into the Memory Den with MacCready, and though a couple said they had seen her walking out a few hours later, no one seemed to know where she went after that.

He had trusted the merc initially; it wasn't like him to be stupid enough to try something with Scarlet again, especially after he'd nearly got the shit kicked out of him for it. But when MacCready showed up at the State House that night, and since he was nowhere closer to figuring out where she was, Hancock was beginning to second-guess the man's story.

MacCready pushed against Hancock's arm. He could have kicked him in the groin, or taken the knife from the ghoul's waist and shoved it into his side. But that would only have made him look guilty. He struggled to breathe, but otherwise took the punishment he was being given. "You think I don't wanna know where she went, either?" he choked out. She may not have exactly been cozy with him, but he still cared for her just the same, and felt like he owed her a debt for how she had helped him.

"I know you're jealous, you fucking bastard. You think I don't see it? I know what you did, and after all that you were still tryin' to get her alone."

"It ain't like that!" He shouted with the rest of his breath, finally wresting Hancock's arm away from his neck. The force pushed Hancock back and he pulled his shot gun from his hip. MacCready answered in kind, readying his own pistol at the ghoul's head. "She was helping me hack some tapes. Find a cure for my son. He's sick."

"Don't feed me your bullshit," he snarled back.

"She wrote down these passwords for me," he said, fumbling in his breast pocket for a scrap of paper. "Here."

Hancock reached out cautiously and snatched the piece of paper from his hand, opening it. There was a list of numbers and words. It made little sense to him. "What the hell is this supposed to tell me?"

"I dunno. Maybe you know her handwriting?" he asked, grasping.

Hancock studied the document. He didn't know her handwriting. Hadn't been with her long enough to see it. The idea that MacCready had a sample of it made the ire rise anew in his throat, but as much as he didn't want to admit it, the story made sense. And it did look like something Scarlet would have written. The penmanship was neat, staying within the paper's ruled lines. Not like anything he had ever seen in his lifetime, and certainly nothing like MacCready's chicken scratches.

"That's all well and good," he said, scathingly sarcastic, "But it doesn't tell me where she's at."

"I'll help you find her if you want, Hancock, but you gotta believe me. I had nothin' to do with her disappearing."

Hancock sneered down the sights of his shotgun, then slowly began to lower it. MacCready mirrored his movements, returning his drawn pistol to his holster. The two stared each other down, suspicious but hesitant. Each one had a healthy respect for the other, and a little bit of fear, too. Neither really wanted a confrontation, but they were both stubborn to a fault, unwilling to show any weakness.

The ghoul sighed. If MacCready was offering his help, he'd be a fool not to accept it. If something truly had happened to Scarlet, he would probably benefit from a keen set of eyes. But like most of the residents of Goodneighbor, he couldn't trust the mercenary completely. He had been stabbed in the back more than once.

"Alright then. You help me find her." Then, he took the paper MacCready had given him, waved it once through the air, and tucked it into his red overcoat. "You don't get this back until you do."

MacCready was infuriated, but nodded his agreement. It wasn't as if he was about to go gallivanting around the Commonwealth while she was missing. He didn't appreciate Hancock holding the key to Duncan's cure for ransom, but he thought it a fair enough compromise to spare him from further scrutiny while they sussed out her whereabouts.

The two of them looked toward the staircase; Fahrenheit slammed the door and trudged up the steps. Hancock had sent her out to gather more information, and he was anxious to hear her report.

"Nothin'," she said, as she entered the parlor and set her gun on the couch.

Hancock's shoulders slumped. "Not a clue, huh?"

"I was out knocking on doors, didn't talk to anyone who saw her. And they all acted like they were being pretty straight with me." She searched through Hancock's liquor cabinet for a beer, biting off the cap before taking a swig.

Hancock growled a little and looked out the window. How could she disappear without a trace like that? She wouldn't have left without saying something. She wasn't the type. He knew she was looking for her son, but she wasn't foolhardy enough to run out into the ruins by herself. Something had to have happened. Something bad.

"There was one person who was conveniently absent while I was making the rounds, though," said Fahrenheit. MacCready and Hancock's ears pricked up. "Bobbi No-nose wasn't at home. Wasn't at the Rexford, or the Rail. And I asked a couple drifters and they said they hadn't seen her in two days."

The two men shared a look of affirmation. Bobbi wasn't your typical Goodneighbor scum. She had a history of bad deals and licentious schemes. Hancock didn't put it past her to pull something like this. What her end game was, he wasn't sure, but he thought it a good enough place to start.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," he told MacCready. He nodded his head, ready to follow the mayor and give him the necessary back-up. "Thanks Fahr," Hancock said. He grabbed a handful of shotgun shells before making a hasty exit from the State House, the mercenary on his heels.

When Hancock kicked in Bobbi's door, they weren't sure what they expected to find. A roomful of hired guns, maybe, or a booby trap. But it was silent as the two swept the place, keeping their guns at the ready.

"She definitely left town," noted MacCready, finding the lack of caps and weaponry in her home suspicious. She'd obviously bolted, and it probably wasn't a coincidence that the vault-dweller was missing along with her.

After searching her bedroom, they went down to her basement, desperate for any kind of clue. She had a terminal, but it was password protected. MacCready remarked wryly that Wolf could have hacked it for them.

Hancock was about to give up when he felt a cold gust of air. He looked at the basement window, the probable source of the draft, but it was closed tight. And the bottom of his coat rippled slightly with the force. It was low to the ground...

He holstered his shotgun and started examining the walls. Maybe there was a door he had missed. Scanning over the room, he noticed something out of place. A bookshelf in the corner was askew, one of its sides sticking out awkwardly. He approached the piece of furniture and felt the draft again, stronger this time.

"Hey Mac, help me out with this." MacCready came over and assisted Hancock in pulling the bookshelf away from the wall. As they strained to move it, a large, oblong hole became visible right in the wall of the basement.

"That's probably where she went," said MacCready.

Hancock pulled the shotgun from his hip and cocked it, his brow set with determination. "Let's go, then."

The two of them crept into the tunnel, Hancock leading. MacCready drew the rifle from his shoulder and hung back a little, peering through his night-vision scope. "Doesn't look like there's anything up ahead," he said.

They delved in further. They were descending rapidly and the tunnel was broadening. Pretty soon Hancock was standing face-to-face with a sewer grate, ankle-deep in an irradiated puddle of water. At first glance it didn't look like there was anywhere else to go. "What now?" he mumbled to himself.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, the earth looked like it was starting to shift. It shuddered once, then burst forth, revealing a shell, rows of claws, and buggy black eyes. "Mirelurks!" he growled. He immediately fired shot after shot, but the creature had hunched forward, deflecting the rounds with its protective shell.

MacCready was still far enough back to be safely away from the action. He dropped to a knee, looked down his scope, and tried to line up a shot. Hancock was backing away while he fired and reloaded. But as he stepped backward he heard a crunching beneath his boot, and up from the ground rose another mirelurk. This one was larger and hissed as it sprang to life. The spaces between its exoskeleton glowed with radiation.

The sniper kept his aim steady and pointed the end of his barrel at the creature's face. Before it had a chance to protect itself, he fired a single shot, piercing it in the mouth. It shrieked as radioactive fluid oozed from its wound before dropping to the ground, dead.

Hancock was still fending off the first mirelurk when yet another came up from the murky sewage. Predicting its movement, MacCready took it down quickly with a bullet to its sensitive and exposed underbelly.

Hancock had finally reloaded his shotgun when the animal lunged forward, this time raising its thorax and opening its mandibles. The ghoul had the perfect shot and fired a shell into its mouth, the resulting explosion of fluids spraying against his face before it collapsed.

An eerie silence flooded back in. Hancock swept his eyes over the floor, ready to fire if another one decided to pop up, but the danger was apparently gone for the moment.

"You alright boss?" MacCready stepped out of the shadows and came to his side.

"Yeah," he replied, rubbing his blood-stained cheek against the sleeve of his coat. "Looks like we hit a dead end, though."

MacCready could see a faint red light coming from the corner. "This way," he said, leading them down another passage.

The two snaked through the roughly-carved chute. It seemed to be nothing but pure clay, save a dripping pipe running above their heads. Eventually, though, it broadened into what appeared to be some kind of pre-war maintenance room.

When another cluster of mirelurks burst from the earth, they were ready. "Heads up!" yelled Hancock, pulling the pin from a frag grenade and chucking it at them. The explosion shook the walls and the beasts wailed. The men were briefly showered with mud and shell fragments, then Hancock ran towards them, cursing, while MacCready covered him with his rifle.

One by one the mirelurks dropped. MacCready took his time, making sure to land each shot in one of the crustacean's heads, while Hancock spun around, spraying bullets without any regard to where they landed. But that, combined with the crippling damage of the grenade, seemed to work out as the action finally died down.

Their ears were still ringing from the tumult. The two regained their bearings and swept the area, making sure all the monsters were out for good. "I wonder how Bobbi got past all this," MacCready wondered aloud.

"I think I know how," said Hancock. Something bright white on the floor had attracted his attention. He crouched over to pick it up, holding it out so that the merc could see. It was a fish, freshly dead, with most of its flesh still intact except for the bite taken out of its midsection. Its spiny ribs were poking out, catching the little bit of light there was.

"So she baited them, huh?" MacCready remarked.

"She's one smart bitch," Hancock huffed, dropping the half-eaten fish back to the ground. "Figured if someone did come looking for her, they'd be laid out by the 'lurks. Or at least they'd buy her some time."

The two continued down the tunnel, beckoned by a faint light somewhere far off. They clung to the walls like shadows, silently making their way through. If there were more mirelurks around, they were better off not disturbing them.

The light became stronger, the florescence of it making them squint, before the narrow path they were following spread out into a caved-in subway station. The chamber was well-illuminated, if crumbling, and the two men dropped their guard a little as they entered.

Someone had cleared this place out already. Dead feral ghouls were sprawled out over the subway tracks and station benches. Their foul blood was still fresh in the air and running from their bullet-wounds, pooling together in the cracks and crevices of the tile floor.

MacCready put his arm up to his nose, trying to fend off the stench. "At least they're all dead," he stated. They looked around for a moment, Hancock assessing the bodies to ensure there weren't any sleepers, MacCready rummaging through old newsstands and Nuka-Cola machines. There wasn't anything to go on in here, either. Bobbi had been careful to cover her tracks in that respect.

Without speaking, they trudged up the station steps. They couldn't leave the room fool of dead ghouls soon enough. Peeking through the door, they cautiously stepped out into the dark early morning of the Commonwealth.

The breeze was steady and lifeless. They scanned their surroundings, trying to figure out where they had ended up. There was a Brahmin corpse that looked to be about a week old next to a rusty automobile, and a row of buildings that had once been a strip mall on the outskirts of downtown Boston. But it was apparent that Bobbi was long gone, and Scarlet with her. "God damn it!" muttered Hancock through clenched teeth.

"She could be halfway across the Commonwealth by now," said MacCready, stowing his rifle on his back and lighting a cigarette.

"We should head back to Goodneighbor," said Hancock. "If Bobbi did this, she did it with a motive. Sooner or later, something's bound to show up."

"You got it, Boss." MacCready kept his tone light, but he was worried as hell. He hoped Hancock was right about Bobbi, that she had some kind of secret motive that they hadn't ascertained. But it seemed just as likely to MacCready that the vault-dweller had been sold to slavers, or killed because she had accidentally witnessed something. It could even be the case that Bobbi had nothing to do with the situation entirely, the whole thing being just a randomly occurring set of events.

At any rate, it was too early to draw any real conclusions. Seeing the faint light of dawn on the horizon, they headed for home, walking wordlessly into the ruins.

"Wakey, wakey!"

Scarlet blinked several times, then opened her eyes to the sight of a man hunched over and peering into her face. He had dark brown skin and sported a sickening grin, his tongue running over pearly white teeth.

She was lying with her cheek pressed against a cool concrete floor. As she attempted to roll to her hands and knees, her right wrist was squeezed against the icy metal handcuff around it. The other cuff was secured to a radiator pipe. Compensating for her restricted movement, she rolled back against a wall and pushed herself into a sitting position, settling her feet and backside firmly on the floor.

Adjusting her glasses, Scarlet quickly assessed her surroundings. A row of naked mannequins was lined up in front of a broken window. Across the room, several storage shelves surrounded a counter with a cash register. She was inside some kind old clothing store, probably, but everything wearable had been picked clean long ago.

The shop she was in was within another building, a mall perhaps. Her line of sight ended with a broad hallway outside the shop's entrance. There was some sunlight making its way in, but it was being filtered through the slats of boarded up windows.

A cluster of heavily-armored men stood just outside the old clothing store, looking in at her. But she could barely see past the daunting figure in front of her, who squatted down just inches from her face.

"How you feelin'?" he asked, the sarcasm evident in his voice.

Scarlet thought back to the last thing she could remember. She was sitting at the ghoul woman's terminal, attempting to hack her way back in. The woman was standing behind her, a little too close for comfort. Then she placed a bony hand on her shoulder as a stinging sensation pricked the side of her neck.

And then everything had gone dark. Whatever had transpired between there and here, it was totally absent from her memory. She had probably been drugged, and whatever the substance was it hadn't completely left her bloodstream. She was groggy and dizzy, struggling to stay conscious as she gleaned whatever she could from her dimly lit surroundings.

The man in front of her just sat there, smiling, waiting for some kind of response.

"I'm thirsty," she said hoarsely.

The man said nothing but grumbled as he stood up. He left briefly and returned with an old nuka-cola bottle filled with dingy brown water. Popping off the cap, he placed it in front of her and knelt back down.

She eyed the bottle with some suspicion. It didn't look all that appealing. But her thirst was overwhelming; her throat burned as she attempted to swallow nothing, and her head was like a sun-baked sponge. Casting a hestitant glance at the man in front of her, Scarlet grabbed the bottle and chugged its contents, trying to ignore the musty flavor.

The man snatched the bottle from her as she finished it. Her head whipped back and forth as the life slowly returned to her, attempting to get any sort of clue as to where she was.

"Where am I?" she asked, quietly but firmly.

"The boss'll be by in a minute to fill you in. You just sit tight." The man ran his index finger slowly along the side of her face while maintaining his off-putting grin. She recoiled at the touch, prompting a low rumble of laughter.

Heavy footsteps thudded toward them and Scarlet craned her neck to look up at the man. "Thanks, Barnes," he said in a sandpapery voice. The sides of his head were neatly shaved and the rest of his hair hung on the top in greasy, light brown mop. His angular jaw was coated in stubble, which he stroked leisurely with his gloved hand.

Barnes pushed himself to his feet and stepped to the side. "You need anything else right now, Winlock?"

"Hang back for a minute," Winlock answered. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it thoughtfully. "We'll see where this goes."

Barnes moseyed over to an empty display rack and leaned casually against it, crossing his arms. Scarlet swallowed thickly. Even if she hadn't been handcuffed she would have been paralyzed with fear. Her pulse was lurching at breakneck speed, though each beat seemed to feel weaker than the last. Panic rose in her throat along with an acute nausea, which she attempted to keep at bay.

Through the terror in her blood Scarlet attempted to maintain her rationality. She stared hard at Winlock, not wanting to appear too weak. I feel like I've seen him before, she mused. But where would that have been? Maybe he was a Goodneighbor resident...

"Where am I?" she repeated. She hoped the man didn't hear the quavering in her voice.

"You're in a safe place," Winlock answered dryly, pacing in front of her. "In the Commonwealth. But I really can't tell you exactly where."

He hocked noisily, then turned his head and spit. I have seen him before... Scarlet thought back to the day a group of men had shown up in town, demanding that Hancock give them MacCready. This man was the same who had led the group of gunners that day, she was sure of it.

"MacCready's gone. He's probably out of the Commonwealth by now," she said confidently, mimicking what she had heard Hancock say to them that day. If getting MacCready was still their end game, and she was just a means to that end, she wasn't going to be a willing participant. No matter how frightened she was.

The back of Winlock's hand slammed against Scarlet's cheek, nearly knocking the glasses from her face. The blow was hard, but bearable, and she whimpered more out of shock than pain.

"Don't try to lie to me, Wolf." Her name was almost clamped back into his mouth as he clenched his teeth. Scarlet's free hand reached up to re-center her glasses, then graze against her cheek to see if it was bleeding. Not finding any blood when she pulled her fingertips away, she settled back against the wall, breathing deeply but more steadily as the shock of his hit snapped her out of her own panic.

Winlock took a knee in front of her and took one last drag of his cigarette before flicking it aside. She followed the release of smoke up and over his shoulder, focusing briefly on the back wall. H...M...K... What was left of a painted label was just barely visible above the shop's door frame.

Barnes sauntered over and stood ominously behind him, blocking her field of view. Her eyes darted back to Winlock, whose gaze was fixed solidly on hers.

"I'm sure your boyfriend'll be happy to give us MacCready once he finds out we've got you," said Winlock smugly. "We've just gotta let him know you're here with us, then you'll be free before you know it."

Her predicament was beginning to make sense now. An involuntary shudder worked its way through her body. She hoped Hancock wouldn't give in so easily. She knew the mayor was a proud man, but had yet to see him pushed to any kind of breaking point. The closest thing to weakness she had seen in him was the other night, when he had told her about his past. "I vowed I'd never stand by and watch. Ever again."

Scarlet hoped for his sake that he wouldn't do anything rash. But she knew better. He was headstrong to a fault. If he knew where she was, he'd probably burst his way in, guns blazing. If he knew. I don't even know where I am.

The synapses in her brain were firing rapidly, trying to fill in the meaning of the chipped lettering on the wall. H...M...K. This place looked kind of familiar, too. Did I come here before the war?

Haymarket Mall. The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning, and she tried not to let her excitement show.

"So what d'ya think, Barnes? Hancock's gonna want some proof that we got her."

"What about this?" Barnes snatched the black frames from her face and dangled them in front of Winlock.

Scarlet's nose wrinkled up and her eyes squinted. "I need those!" she said, with more desperation than she had wanted to reveal. She reached out her left hand and grasped for them, but Barnes held them just out of reach and smiled arrogantly. She was nearsighted to the point of being almost blind, and she couldn't imagine a replacement pair would be easy to come by.

"Or this..." Barnes grabbed the wrist that had just reached out to him and pulled it taught. He unfastened the Pip-Boy and jerked it away, letting her arm fall back against her.

"We don't want him to think she's dead," said Winlock. He motioned for Barnes to replace the glasses on her nose but took the pip-boy in his hands. He studied it for a moment, flipping a couple of switches and running his thumb over the screen. "This'll be worth some caps," he remarked to himself.

Scarlet watched as he inspected it. He turned it over a few times in his hands, then pressed a small button above the display. An empty holotape deck sprang up out of the device, and his face broadened into a sinister smile.

"You remember that office where we got the handcuffs?" he asked, turning to Barnes.

"Yeah, what about it?"

"I think I saw some holotapes lyin' around. Go see if you can find a blank one."

Barnes nodded knowingly. "You got it."

Barnes left, leaving the two of them staring darkly at each other. Scarlet fought the urge to avert her eyes as Winlock grabbed her by the chin with one of his gloved hands, pulling her face toward him and squeezing her cheeks between his fingertips. "Now you're gonna be a good girl, and help me record a message for your boyfriend, got it?"

Scarlet nodded tersely against his hand, fighting back a wave of tears. There wasn't any point in putting up a fight. At least not now. Her weapon was gone, and her pockets had probably been searched. There wasn't anything of use within reach, either. For the moment, she grudgingly resigned herself to her fate. She would have to wait for an opportunity, but there was no telling when or if one might come up.

Barnes returned after a few minutes, holding up a red holotape. "Found one," he said.

Winlock stood up and took it from him, pushing it unceremoniously into the pip-boy's tape deck. "All right, vault-dweller," he said, the green glow of the screen lighting up his craven sneer. "Let's think of something real nice to say."