As we crouched low against the flickering candlelight, whispered voices of Raiders could be heard from the end of the hall, becoming increasingly louder and more alarmed as we sneaked towards them. The house itself felt like it was breathing, as though the walls were listening to everything, perhaps even watching MacCready and I, and the stench of rotting corpses lingered in the air. I had a sinister feeling in my gut. One of our settlements had told us of heavy Raider activity surrounding this unassuming building, but when the front door had been littered with bodies from that very same group, we'd known we had to investigate further.

In the dim light, I could make out odd paintings hanging from the damp walls; mostly faces, screaming or crying. It was difficult to see them in detail, but each one was crafted in varying shades of red. This whole place was giving me the creeps.

"We're going to break down this door eventually," I heard one of the voices ahead. "And when we do, we're coming for you, Pickman!"

MacCready signalled towards the two men attempting to breakdown the basement door. I nodded in understanding and slunk further into the shadows, holstering my pistol and instead pulling a small but sharp knife from my leg. Silently, I approached the closest of the men, turned to MacCready and began to mouth counting down from three. On one, I sprung upwards and plunged my knife into the Raiders neck, whilst MacCready simultaneously sniped the other through the back of the head. Both Raiders slumped to the ground and I listened out for any others before standing up straight in melancholy satisfaction. Blood oozed stickily down the handle, so I wiped it quickly with a rag and shuddered; it frightened me how easily I could do this to another human being.

"Another kill for me," My mercenary lover quipped as he shouldered his rifle and stretched. "I'm gonna check out the front room, you scope the kitchen, then we'll meet back at the hall."

"Mhmm," I agreed. The kitchen was empty except for a large butchers blade that was dripping with fresh blood, which pooled across the counter, spilling into a strategically placed bucket on the floor. There were no carcasses lying around so I assumed whatever poor animal had been gutted here had been eaten and its pelt used for clothing. Things like that didn't shock or surprise me anymore. It was just how we lived in the Commonwealth.

I began to move back into the hall when one of the paintings caught my eye, so I stopped to examine it more closely. Like the others, it was the portrait of a tortured man, face contorted into a harrowing screech. The paint... It didn't look right. I reached forward and stroked the picture, perplexed by the strange texture. I had expected it to be powdery. Suddenly, a shiver went down my spine and a penny dropped in my mind. The smell. The paintings. The red colours. Blood red. Oh no...

"Uh, Veronica?" MacCready called my name with a tinge of worry in his tone. My heart rate had increased as I realised what was happening here and I sprinted into the front room, gasping in horror at the sight I was met with.

More of those scary red paintings lined the walls and in the middle of the room, a pile of dead Raiders formed a haunting ornamental feature. There eyes were open, some of them with twisted limbs and others with their bellies torn apart. Some were just heads on pikes. Each one had been arranged in such a way that I knew this wasn't just a dumping site. They were trophies. Art. I gagged and backed away.

"Oh, God." I choked.

MacCready simply shook his head and nodded towards a canvas that was leaning against the bodies. A half-complete image of a crying woman. A paint brush was protruding from one of the Raider's open wounds, confirming my fears. I looked at my partner, whose mouth formed an unimpressed line across his face.

"This is sick," I swallowed. "Whoever did this, they've been using blood to paint with. Specifically, Raider blood."

"Great. Thanks for the nightmare fuel." MacCready retorted. "Who would do something like this?"

"My guess," I tried to hold my breath as I bent down to pick up a small card sticking out of the nearest Raider's breast pocket. "Is that it was a man named Pickman."

"A calling card. We have a murderer on our hands."

"Yup, with a strange artistic fetish. I think we need to break into the basement. So long as this freak continues with his, shall we say, 'eccentric' hobby, there will always be Raider activity in the area. We've got to stop him somehow."

MacCready didn't look thrilled by that idea. "Let's take a look around first. I don't want to run in blind."

"Sure," I began to inspect the paintings, keeping myself far from the shrine of bodies. One of the canvas' seemed to stick out a little further from the wall than the rest, so I plucked it from its hook to reveal a safe. I couldn't help but feel a little proud of myself as I took a bobby pin from my satchel and felt around inside the lock until it clicked open.

"Yeah, that's impressive and all," MacCready piped up from behind me. "But can you do it blindfolded?"

I ignored his joke and began to survey the contents. A knife, a key and a small bag of caps. I pocketed the caps and rolled the key around in the palm of my hand. "The basement, maybe?"

"Worth a shot."

Our hands found each other as we stood before the ominous basement door. I waggled the key in front of me and gave MacCready a sly smile. He smirked and nodded once, letting go of my hand to clutch his sniper rifle in position, and I relaxed a little - somehow, being with him made me feel like I could take on anything. So, there was a despicable homicidal maniac on the other side of this door, so what? We could do this. Whatever was waiting for us down there, we would be ready for it.

I inserted the key with confidence and pulled the door open, revealing the darkness beyond.