November 29, 2280 6:20 PM

"Oh, what the fuck."

Nick says nothing, but he heartily agrees with the sentiment.

He'd been expecting something like this, but actually seeing it in front of him in the same room really brings it home. Turns it solid and ugly again. There's a few dirty mattresses on the floor, and more pushed up against the walls. A covered metal pail, empty plastic bottles, what might be a pile of blankets or tarps. And from the wall sprouts a series of metal plates with chains and shackles attached. Not even handcuffs. Actual, medieval-style shackles. And attached to those shackles, a small boy and a teenage girl.

The boy is asleep, or probably knocked out since he didn't come out of it from the nearby gunshot, but the girl is awake and terrified. As the two of them swing the door open she kicks back with her feet, trying to move away while also positioning herself in front of the boy beside her like she's trying to shield him. Brave kid.

Without a doubt, the sleeping boy is Luke and that's a huge load off Nick's mind. Curly black hair like his dad's, same nose, the burn scar on his arm from running into a hotplate when he was three. The girl though, he has no idea who she is. She's got short brown hair cut into a bob, wide, earnest eyes, and she's skinny as a stick. The two of them are only alike in that they're both chained to the wall and both have wide strips of duct tape over their mouths. Nick gets that sick dig in the pit of his stomach again; mostly cuz of how obvious the set-up here is. They're being held here like livestock until it's time for them to be sold off.

He tucks his gun away and turns back to John who's still staring from the doorway in dismay. He shouldn't be here.

"John."

His eyes tick up onto Nick's, seeming relieved to be looking at anything else.

"Do me a favor and go keep an eye out downstairs. If anyone comes in I don't want them surprising us. And we've made quite a bit of racket in here already, anyone might've heard. Come right back up if you see or hear anything."

"Yeah. Sure." John licks his lips and backs out, entire body stiff. Nick hears his steps fade away and hopes he's not taking this too hard. This is a hell of a thing to walk into.

But that's what Nick's here for. He can't fix the damage already done but getting this operation shut down is something. One more tiny flame against the shadow lurking all around them with its spindly, reaching arms.

Okay.

Nick turns back to the kids and takes a step toward them, but stops as the girl moves. She drops to a seated position and pulls her legs up, eyes now more angry than afraid. Her breath is hard and whining with the silver-grey gag of tape and she looks prepared to do as much damage with her feet as she can if Nick comes into range.

Cripes, of course. He puts up his hands and waits where he is. Trying to be soothing isn't something he's good at, and honestly, sometimes it just makes things worse; makes people think you're trying to pull one over on them. Better to be straightforward and plain.

"My name's Nick Valentine. I'm a detective from Diamond City and I'm gonna get you both out of here."

She stares at him. Glances at the boy behind her and back at Nick.

"Yeah, I'm here because of him. His dad hired me but it looks like I'm doing a two for one special today," Nick says, trying a small smile. "Promise I'm not here to hurt either of you. Can I come closer?"

After a second or two of thought, she gives up the defensive posture and nods her head with a loud breath out, anger vanishing and her eyebrows pulling up in the middle like she's fighting tears. If he never sees something like this again, it'll still be too soon. Fat chance of that though, unless he goes and hangs up his fedora tomorrow.

He walks to the edge of the mattress they're both on and kneels down in front of them, wrinkling his nose at the smell of it and the layers and layers of stains on it, dark, brownish maroon of long-dried blood among them. And just like that he's furious again. How long has this been going on? How many other scared to death kids have lain here where they are now?

Put it in the back. Keep your cool.

"I'm gonna get this tape off, alright?"

She nods much more vigorously and turns her head so he can see the edge of it along her cheek. Nick carefully peels up the end and grimaces. "This'll probably sting. Breakin' my promise already," he says, and tears it away as efficiently as he can.

She gasps and presses her lips together, squinting her eyes shut as tears well up and the heretofore covered skin turns a bright red. "Ow. Thank you," she croaks out.

"Not a problem. What's your name, kiddo?"

"It's El—" she coughs and almost retches. "Eleanor."

"Wish it were under better circumstances, but it's nice to meet you, Eleanor."

She makes a noise that might be a laugh if her face didn't look so miserable. "Nice to meet you too."

Brave and polite, even at a time like this. He leans around and looks at the big metal sleeves holding them captive. Short of something incredibly destructive, there's no getting out of those things without opening the lock properly. "I somehow doubt it, but do you know if there's any keys in this dump so I can get you guys loose?" Besides this little corner, the room's as empty as the rest of the building. Shame there's no nail on the wall with the keyring on it. Then again, this ain't exactly a comic book.

Eleanor shakes her head. "I don't know, don't think so. I haven't seen anything. I woke up like this and he," she nods at Luke, "was already here."

"Yeah. Didn't expect it. Well, don't worry, okay? Think we can figure something out." Nick shifts forward and takes a closer look at where the chains are bolted to the wall. Gives one a good hard pull and is very unsurprised when nothing happens. Might end up having to send John out to find a few crowbars so they can work on prising the plates loose. And then see if Kleo can get her claws on a plasma cutter for the rest of it.

Depending on how this goes he might even have to set up an in-house stakeout here; Vy's gotta come back sometime, she wouldn't go to all this trouble and then just leave the goods behind. Though if they've somehow showed their hand by making too much noise already and scared her off this place, she might've given this up as a lost cause and escaped. Not what he's hoping for, but if that does turn out to be the case, he'll happily settle for getting the kids out of here safely.

With his eyes he traces the other set of chains back down to Luke's still curled-up shape and frowns. "Is he… alright? Sure can sleep through a lot." Nick lays the back of his hand close to Luke's nose, then touches two fingers to the dip under his jaw. Breathing fine and pulse good and strong.

"The woman that was here has something that can knock you out. That's how I got here anyway." Her eyes well up again, voice catching. "I… I know I wasn't supposed to be back in the alley, but I wasn't doing anything, just looking around. Then I heard someone walk up behind me and then… nothing. Black. And then I was here, and I don't know where here is and… Oh my god, I don't even know how long it's been; my parents are gonna kill me."

"Hey, at least we'll get you home for them to kill, right?" Nick says with a smile. She nods slowly then laughs, watery and weak, but it's something. "There you go. We'll get you outta here as soon as we can. And we're in Goodneighbor, third floor of one of the old warehouses. You from around here or is your family visiting?"

She looks relieved at that. "Here. Yeah. My mom works at the food cart with the red canopy by the state house." The look on her face lasts until she tries to pull one of her arms forward and is met with the clink of chains.

Nick sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. About time to go downstairs and talk with John about this, see what they can scrounge up to break these kids out of here already. "Can I do anything for you right now? Besides the obvious, I mean."

Eleanor shudders and leans down to scratch her cheek against one of her knees. "No," she says. "I just wanna go home."

"I know it, I'm real sorry this even happ—"

There's a sound from below and the two of them, like they're being pulled by the same string, straighten up and turn their heads toward it. A thump and then indistinct shouting.

That wasn't the plan.

As Nick jumps to his feet he barely hears Eleanor squeak, "Be careful!"

Nick's out the door and taking the stairs down two at a time until the scuffling noises turn into a pained yell and he hears John almost screaming, "Nick!" Then he vaults down by threes, heart in his throat and colliding against the stairwell walls and shoving off them to go faster. He hits the ground floor about fifteen seconds from the initial noise and sees John squaring up with the lady that's been haunting Nick's thoughts for almost a full spin of the planet now. She looks like a cornered animal, holding a baton or short club out in front of her and leaning heavily against the wall to her back.

Nick yanks out his revolver and pounds across the floor at them. The woman looks up in alarm as she notices him and that's all the opening John needs to bat her hand away and nail her in the chin with a perfectly-placed right hook. It's not a knock-out, but she slumps awkwardly to the floor in a dazed heap, groaning and flailing her hands downward as her legs give out.

John glances around at Nick as he comes to a stop and nods to him, the both of them panting.

"I'm fine," he preempts as Nick looks him up and down. He's not fine. He's white-faced, holding his ribs, and Nick can't see for the jacket sleeve covering it but it looks like there's something wrong with the angle of his left wrist. But he is standing and looks steady so it'll have to take a backseat for now. Nick suffers another serious pang of regret, wishing again that he hadn't brought him along for this. And John's never gonna blame him for it, so he'll blame himself twice as hard. But later.

John turns his attention back to the woman and Nick follows his gaze to look down at her. One long leg sprawled out and head tipped forward, nodding around sluggishly at nothing. "She surprised me when she came in but I stomped her ankle and broke it I think." So no foot races in her near future, that's good. John goes on and gestures at her hand where it's still clenched tightly around the baton. "And get that thing away from her before she zaps you with it. Shit hurts."

It takes them a few moments to disarm her. Nick whips off his tie to use as a makeshift binding, tightly knotting her hands together at her back. Last time he goes anywhere without a pair of cuffs. The time you don't have them always, by some unfortunate twist of fate, manages to be the same time you need them. She stares at them as they do it, eyes rolling wild and body still lurching aimlessly as she struggles to call her faculties back together. The stun stick is taken away, two very slim, very fine blades shaken out from where they're threaded into one sleeve, a bottle of some clear liquid removed from a pocket that for sure isn't water, and a short barrelled 10mm untucked from her belt.

John keeps the pistol trained on her with his good hand as Nick stands up and does the same with his own piece. They wait like that as Vy shakes off the impact and comes back to herself. Nick glances at John and gives him a look that he hopes is clear enough. Just wait.

It's an odd feeling, seeing her now. Chasing after a nebulous concept of a person, a second-hand description, and then you finally get to see them in the flesh, watch them move; there's a weird sense of doubling and resolution as the reality merges with the assumptions. And as her face tips up, he can see why Donnie was so quick to fall for her. She's stunningly beautiful.

Too bad she's also a disgusting monster.

"What… what are you doing? What the hell do you want!? If you're going to rob me just take my damn caps and let me go!" Hair hangs in her face, her lip is quivering, voice quaking, and a tear rolls down one cheek. Her entire body looks like it's cringing away from them into the wall and her eyes are huge and frightened.

Oh, for god's sake. "Cut it. We know what you're doing here, saw the arrangement upstairs."

The mask of fear and pain drops away and it's like a switch being flicked. She stills and eyes them both, gaze hardened up and looking all business with the wet shine of faked tears on her face. And now, instead of high and fluttery with panic, her voice is slow and even, like she's got all the time in the world to say what she's gonna say. "So you've seen. And you dispatched my guards." Even staring down the barrels of two guns, she sighs like this is all just a minor annoyance. "What would I need to give you to get out of this with my life? Hm?"

John makes a confused noise and Nick just looks at her, also thrown off-balance by the unexpected shift here. Straight from tears to dead-eyed bargaining at the drop of a hat. He lowers his gun a touch and schools his features thoughtful, like he might be the kind of opportunistic scumbag who could be bribed into looking the other way on this. Like he's not quietly seething with rage as he looks at her and thinks about what she's done.

And there's no way to communicate what he's after to John without Vy hearing it too. Damn, he's so unprepared for the two of them being here like this. They should've worked out a quick code or some signals beforehand… anything. Just have to wing it at this point.

"Half my profits from today's exchange?" she ventures. "It's a decent amount; the Institute is generous. I just have to signal my contact and the payment'll be here. Simple and quick."

The Institute. Of course. The synths ('my guards') belong to them, so why wouldn't she as well? The biggest unknown in the Commonwealth and this child-stealer has an in with them. Nick's heard about all the other every-once-in-a-while kidnappings, and here's a new piece to that puzzle: they take kids too. Why? Why any of it, really.

"Yeah? There good money in this sort of thing?"

"Good enough that if it wasn't me here, it would be someone else. And it's easy. Most times." Relaxed enough to brag about this, Nick thinks. Unreal. "Find those single parents out there, show some interest, get what I need from them, turn over the goods, get paid, top up the facial surgery, repeat when called for. It's not bad work if you've got the skills for it."

And now, she dares to wink at him. Like they're already friends and an agreement between them is a foregone conclusion. Anyone who does this kind of thing for a living has got to have a few screws loose already, but her calm is giving Nick the creeps.

He forces interest onto his face anyway. If he can keep her talking and get some more info on her mysterious bosses, maybe he can get closer to the heart of this whole ugly mess. Figure out a way to prevent this bullshit in the future. She'll probably lie, but even lies can be useful in some way.

"So. What do you say? Sound like a good deal? Let me finish this transaction, you get your cut, and everyone walks away alive." She laughs humorlessly and mumbles to herself, "Knew that girl was bad luck."

John never lowered his weapon and now the hand holding the pistol is trembling minutely. Nick feels him out with the edge of his vision rather than looking at him. Besides the hand he's so, so still and Nick's concerned at how hard he's grinding his teeth together. He can faintly hear the squeal and click of them. Christ, he shouldn't be here.

"Hey, could y—" he starts, intending to send him back upstairs, to leave him here to finagle this on his own and halt whatever's brewing before it gets out of hand.

But John speaks before he can finish, won't look at him. "How can you do this?"

Hell.

Just flat contempt in John's voice. Contempt and barely-contained hatred. Nick's been keeping his own hidden, but this ain't subtle at all. This is bad.

Vy finally looks over at John with a mild expression, like she's only now realized he's there. "'How can I do this?'" she repeats. "I need caps just like everyone else does. And like I said, it's good money for the amount of effort it takes. Actually kind of fun sometimes. But if this is below you," now there's a hint of a sneer on her face, "you can always get lost and let me and your friend work this out."

Rudely put, and for a different reason than what he's thinking, but Nick reluctantly agrees; dimly (and futilely, he realizes) hoping that John'll take her up on the offer to step out. But then she really laughs. It's shrill and sounds completely, utterly crazy. "But if you mean in the physical sense, it's pretty obvious that the little ones are a lot easier to drag off than adults."

The second Nick hears John's breath stopped dead in his throat, he knows exactly what's going to happen within the next half a second. Can see it play out in his mind's eye, nice and neat in a speedy sequence like a film reel on fast forward. Hears the thundering report of the pistol in his hand before the actual sound erupts and echoes back at them in the empty room. Sees the ragged hole blossom in the middle of her forehead before it appears and fills with blood. Sees her unrelenting watcher's eyes fade to dull and vacant.

He has just enough time to think Well, that's that done for, and then it all snaps back up to the present. John might not be much of a shot, but at this range? Even the shakiest amateur to ever pick up a firearm couldn't miss what he's aiming at.

When the noise fades away, Vy is on the floor, a silent bulk. John finally lets his hand fall to his side. He's drawn and pale, eyes devoid of anything, and his lips are pressed into a thin line, jaw clenched down hard. It's so far from his usual expression that he nearly looks like a different person. There's a fine mist of blood on him from the entry wound; covering his hand, unseen against his dark clothes, but it resumes again on his neck and face. There's even some soaking into his hair like he's decided to dye it pink. Then his mouth twists up and he fires again, making Nick jump.

"John!"

The body doesn't move, just lies there like a sack. He fires again and Nick grabs his arm and turns him away.

"That's enough."

And now, looking up at Nick with the pistol dangling from his fingers and blood all over him, now his blank face shatters into anger. His lips peel back from his teeth, eyes are wide, and he jerks around in Nick's grip on both his arms. He's not too far gone though, he tosses the gun and it hits Vy's hip with a thump and then clacks to the floor.

"Why? Huh? Think she didn't deserve that?" Then his eyes darken even further with some sudden realization and he successfully wrenches himself away. His voice is so quiet, deceptively so. "You weren't gonna let that thing live, were you?"

Nick shakes his head. "No, I wasn't."

"No? Seemed to be gettin' pretty chummy with her."

Nick grits his teeth. "Not that I have to justify myself, but yeah. To find out more about who hired her to do this and why."

John looks at him steadily, eyes searching his own until it seems like he finds what he's looking for. He turns back to the corpse beside them. "She was scum," he says to it quietly, every word tense and taut like a thin wire about to snap. "I don't give a fuck about the rest of it. You don't fucking do this, and you sure don't fucking joke about it."

Nick's upset at losing a possible lead, but also happens to have a pretty intimate grasp on John's reasoning, so he can't be too angry. He'd felt his own finger put a couple more pounds of pressure on the trigger when she'd made that tasteless remark.

John lets a sharp breath out and wipes a hand over his cheek, smearing the blood spray there into even more noticeable streaks. "I don't… Lecture me later. Let's get this done and get those two the hell outta this shithole."

Yeah. No objections there. "Fine. Help me get her out of sight and then we're gonna roll her. See if she's got any papers or the keys to the restraints up there, anything useful."

They do, shifting a few of the lighter crates over to cover up the puddle spreading by the wall and relocating her to the room behind them. There's not a whole lot else that could be hidden on her. Nick goes to takes his tie back from her wrists and with a wash of unease discovers she'd already wriggled partway loose. Who knows what she'd've done once free. Probably not offered up a friendly hand of gin rummy.

"Here."

John pulls a fine, almost invisible cord up from around her neck and dangling at the end… a thick, dark metal key that looks like a match for the shackles. Nick takes it from him when he holds it out and carefully tucks it into his breast pocket. Thank god. They can finally get this wrapped up without any more nonsense.

Nick looks back at John where he's crouching there staring off into space. His mouth is pulled down in a vague frown, fatigue is starting to really show on his face and in his shaky arms, and there's still speckles of blood covering him. Nick finds his handkerchief and holds it out to him. Nudges him when he ignores it.

"John."

"What?" he snaps.

"Come on," Nick says, keeping his voice as gentle as he can. "Let's not go back up there with blood all over us, okay?"

Some of the fierceness in John's face breaks away and he takes (snatches) the cloth, scrubbing at his cheeks and forehead with short, rough movements. Wipes his hands on his jeans and looks up sourly.

"You still have…" Nick starts, pointing.

"Well, get it then, I can't see my own fucking face."

As Nick leans in and wipes away the spots left in the hollows of his eyes, the crease of his nose, and what little he can do about what got in his hair, John's face slowly loses its rigidity and then he's taking quick little breaths and his shoulders start shaking. It takes a moment for him to get any sound out, but when he does, it's laughter. Quiet, gasping giggles, which turn out to be extremely contagious here at half a foot away.

It's the stress, Nick thinks as he grins and holds a hand over his own mouth, squatting next to the gun-shot corpse of a kidnapper and knocking foreheads with the guy that killed her in a fit of anger. This isn't funny at all. They kneel there and laugh as quietly as they can until John slips and kicks Vy's foot and then they're both off again, tears running down their faces. The laughter seems improper, or ill-timed at least, but it sure does make him feel better.

"This wasn't exactly a walk in the park, was it," Nick says when they finally get themselves under control again, giggles tapering off into groans. He stands, holds a hand out, and pulls John back up to his feet.

John shakes his head and heaves a big sigh. "Let's just go already. How's my face?"

Nick looks him over, turning his chin to check both sides and glad that John lets him do it. Glad for that, glad they're both still kicking, and glad that they made it here in time. Their cleanup efforts look adequate; he's lovely as always. "Well, I wouldn't bring you along to a wedding or anything, but I don't think you're gonna make anyone sick either."

"Shit, my one skill in life and it's missing."

When they make it back up to the room, Luke's awake and Eleanor looks like she's finally broken down and had a good cry at some point. Luke goggles up at the two of them and then crawls over so that he's barely peeking over her shoulder.

"Oh, my god. I was so scared it wasn't gonna be you," Eleanor says, giving them both a relieved grin.