Sorry this took so long! It's a hell of a read, but I had a blast writing it (I hope I did Nick some justice. He's difficult for me to write for some reason). Thank you so much for your reviews, follows, and favorites! It makes my day when those emails pop up on my phone. Enjoy!
Hancock and Betty stood around the corner from Diamond City while they brainstormed all the ways they could both get in without any headache. Too late for Betty in that regard, since she woke up with a hangover headache that pounded with every beat of her heart. It also didn't help that Hancock slept like he was dead, so much so that Betty panicked and woke him from his slumber by throwing water in his face. A great way to start their day.
"They ain't gonna let me in," said Hancock, a cigarette between his teeth. "Not a chance."
"Bobbi got in," said Betty with a smirk. "Are you saying she was better than you?"
"How?" he demanded.
"She wore this full-faced gas mask-"
"-Fuck that, I ain't ashamed. I go as is or not at all."
Betty put her hands on her hips and asked, "Could we at least try? Maybe just stand there quietly, although I can only imagine how hard that must be for you. To be quiet."
Hancock nodded and said, "All right, I'm game. Let's try our luck."
They walked up to the ticket counter and waited for the ter in front of them to be let in before Betty stepped forward with what she hoped was a sweet smile. "Two traders coming in," she said.
The guard looked up and gave Betty a once over with before he nodded and said to Hancock, "Hey buddy, turn around so I can get a look at ya."
Hancock glanced at Betty before he turned with a sigh. The ghoul wondered how many insults he could take today before going on a little, bigot killing spree. The guard took one look at Hancock and shook his head.
"You know the rules. No ghoul freaks in Diamond City," said the guard in a dry voice.
Hancock lit a fresh cigarette and made sure to take the heaviest drag possible before he blew the cloud into the guard's booth, sending the man into a coughing fit. "Waste of time, Birdie."
Her stomach dropped to the floor. How would they get in now? She tried to think of something to say, maybe try a bribe, anything that could convince the guard to let them pass when it hit her: Mama Murphy's Sight. She told Betty that this would happen, that passage into the city would be denied.
"But...that would mean," she whispered and looked at Hancock again with wide eyes. The ghoul stood less than a foot away from her, spinning his combat knife in his hand over and over again. He glanced at Betty and smiled before asking her what the plan was.
Betty faced the guard and blurted out, "Remember the Quarry and Lilly June on the rocks."
"...You're not havin' a stroke or somethin', right?" Hancock asked her.
The guard stared at Betty with utter shock and whispered, "I don't know how the hell you know about that, but if anyone asks, I wasn't the one who let him in, got it?"
The gates swung open and Betty's heart lodged in her throat. She turned to Hancock, who sifted through his pack in search of his captain's hat out before he slipped it onto his bald head. A pair of leather gloves were next. Finally, he pulled up the collar of his duster. Unless someone stood right beside him, they wouldn't be able to tell he was a ghoul at first glance.
"Ready?" he asked.
A soft smile found its way onto Betty's face and she said, "It's...it's you."
Apparently, Mama Murphy predicted Betty would go from Nate, an upstanding, decorated soldier to Hancock, a drug-slinging mayor who murdered any who slighted him. But, like Nate, Hancock was kind and quite charming beneath his rough exterior.
"Uh, yeah? Somethin' wrong?"
"No, it's...I was told this would happen and that...you'd be here with me. That's how I knew what to say," she explained.
"Who told ya that, a psyker? Always wanted to meet one of those," Hancock replied.
"An old woman back at one of the settlements, Mama Murphy, says she has something called the Sight. She sees things when she takes chems and they all seem to be coming true."
"Gotta party with her when we head over in that direction," he said.
Inside, the city was illuminated with strands of festive, twinkling red and green lights, along with decorated trees strung with ribbons and ornaments. After two hundred years of war, death, and Hell...Christmas still managed to make an appearance. It almost drove her to tears. She never had the chance to spend a Christmas with Shaun.
"Must be Christmas soon," Betty said in a low voice.
"It's today," Hancock said with confidence.
Betty looked back at the ghoul, who tore off a piece of mistletoe from the bunch that hung above them and he added, "I used to live here way back when. Residents can only decorate Christmas day. The upper deckers hate it; said decorations were too gaudy, can you believe that shit?"
"That's ridiculous," she told him. "I used to love Christmas season...the lights, spending time with friends and family, eating together. I didn't expect anything at all so this...this is more than a pleasant surprise to see some Christmas spirit."
Hancock held up the bit of leaves and berries between himself and Betty with a smirk before he whispered, "You want a little bit of my spirit in ya?"
"That's the best you could come up with?" Betty asked with a laugh. "I thought you told me you don't tolerate lazy humor."
"S'alright, I get it, business first, pleasure later. Valentine's office is over this way." Hancock tucked the sprig into his coat pocket and looped an arm through Betty's, leading them. The pair had not gotten more than ten feet from the city's entrance when a resident walked past the ghoul and spat at his boots. He rolled his eyes and said, "Was wonderin' how long that shit would take. Not even five minutes in this dump..."
Betty moved to grab the man's arm as she snapped, "What the fuck is your problem?" and was surprised when Hancock held her back.
"He ain't worth it and it don't bother me as much as ya think," Hancock said.
"That's right, get the hell outta here!" said the resident.
The ghoul grit his teeth and shoved a bag of caps toward Betty as he murmured, "I'll wait out front, you get the gear and meet with Valentine. His office is behind the shops."
Hancock turned to leave, the resident almost doubled over with laughter, believing he had won this minor confrontation. Betty's blood boiled to witness Hancock be treated like less than nothing, when in reality, he meant a lot to her and many others. He had been there for her, saved her from the raiders even after she threatened to shoot him, and never asked for anything in return. There was no way she would let him walk away defeated. He would do the same for her.
"Wait!" she called out.
When Hancock stopped and looked back at her, dark eyes glazed with what fleeting shame he felt, Betty threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. She never felt a hunger so fierce and ravenous. A low groan escaped her as Hancock wrapped an arm around her waist, his free hand twisted in her raven hair, and pulled her closer as she pressed herself against him. He kissed her as if it were his last act on earth; a kiss filled with fervor, lust, and longing, and Hancock swore that he was the luckiest son of a bitch to exist.
Mama Murphy was right again. Hancock was not at all who Betty expected. The resident, put off by their display, walked off and swore under his breath.
"Fuckin' hell, Birdie," said a breathless Hancock. "You know, if you wanna give these assholes an encore-"
"-I'm good for now, t-thanks," Betty stammered, and she walked towards the marketplace.
Hancock pulled the collar up on his duster with the now-crushed mistletoe dangling from his pocket and smiled. "Keep tellin' yourself that, softskin. I don't mind the wait."
He caught up to Betty and her face went flush once more at the sight of him. "Look, I gotta warn ya about Nicky before we get to his office. He's a little...different. Just don't freak out when you see him."
The marketplace was not as busy as Betty thought it would be, which worked in their favor. The pair, along with a few residents, watched as a shrill, dark-haired woman shouted out that her shop was "Synth Free!" and that no synths would ever be allowed to purchase from her. Many of the locals clapped at her words.
"Synths...you talked about them during one of your speeches. What are they?" Betty asked.
"Synths are just like you and me, only they didn't get created the natural, fun way. No, they were built by the Institute. Some can pass for human," Hancock answered. "Rumor is the Institute uses some of them as spies but I dunno about all that."
"Why do people hate them so much?"
Hancock shrugged his shoulders and said, "Probably the same reason most people hate other folk. They're scared. 'Course there's bad synths, but there's also bad humans and bad ghouls. If that's true, then there's good synths, too. It's how I see it, anyhow. No reason to wipe 'em from existence over a few bad eggs."
She nudged his ribs with a grin and asked in a whisper, "Are you one of those bad ghouls?"
"I'm their god damn king," he growled in her ear.
Betty's face betrayed her yet again with its flush and Hancock chuckled to himself before he wandered over to Commonwealth Weaponry.
After that unexpected but very much welcomed kiss, the ghoul's ego was through the roof and he decided to try his luck a few more times today. He waited until the counter was clear before he made his move. When the shop owner turned with bewildered eyes, Hancock tossed a heavy bag of caps on the counter before he said in a low voice, "Caps are caps, coming from man or ghoul, you feel me?"
The shopkeeper looked around before he whispered, "Make it quick. What do you need?"
"My partner, that lovely gal over there," Hancock nodded toward Betty, "she got me in a...festive, sorta mood. Got anything special in the assault rifle department? That old rifle of hers ain't any good for the kinda work we're gettin' into."
The vendor, Arturo, pulled an assault rifle from beneath the counter and the ghoul's eyes lit up. "I've been working on this beauty for a while, now. Explosive mod, a powerful automatic receiver, bayonet, and a short scope. 1500 caps and it's hers."
"I'll give ya 2000 if you can wrap it up in some burlap," said Hancock with a smirk. "Wanna keep it a surprise 'til later."
"Done. Give me a few minutes and it'll be ready."
Hancock caught up with Betty as she left the chem stand with a handful of stimpaks and Rad-Away.
"Need anything else?" he asked.
"I have some scrap to trade and things like that, why?"
"Just gonna head over to the bar around the corner. Friends with the owners. It's on the way to Nicky's office so come find me when you're ready."
Betty nodded and watched as Hancock made one last trip to the weapon vendor, picked up a burlap-wrapped package without a word, and tossed the bag of caps he kept in his duster pocket on the counter. She peeked into most of the shops and traded all her scrap for a new haircut and an eagle tattoo on her neck. When she looked at herself in the mirror, Betty almost didn't recognize herself, and that was the goal. Her hair was tied up in a high ponytail with the sides and back of her head shaved bald. Factor in the new ink and a scar across her face that hadn't yet begun to heal, and she passed as a gun for hire, not pre-war princess. Now, she felt ready to face anything.
The Dugout Inn was lively, even so early in the morning. Betty found Hancock sitting by himself at the end of the bar, four beers deep, as he laughed with the bartenders.
"Let me buy you a drink," said Betty as she slid onto the bar stool beside the ghoul.
Hancock barely gave her a glance at first and said, "Nah, I'm good thanks, just waitin' for my..god damn, Birdie."
"Waiting for your what now?" she asked, a bit proud that garnered such a reaction from him.
"Apparently, my smokin' hot partner," he replied. "You see this, Vadim? This is who I wake up to now. Ain't I a lucky bastard?."
The bartender took one look at Betty and said, "How much you pay for her, Hancock?"
Hancock erupted with hysterical laughter as Betty groaned and said, "Aw man, I look like a hooker?"
"No, no! Is not that you look like prostitute, is that even Hancock cannot, eh, gain favor with someone so beautiful unless he pays like the rest of us," Vadim assured her.
"Oh, give me a break."
"-And a beer," Hancock interrupted.
"-No, no beer, but I'll take a water, thank you." She turned to her partner and said, "It's ten in the morning."
"And? That just means you gotta catch up." He finished off his drink and said, "You really do look good, you know."
"Hooker good or regular good?" she asked, a bit of sarcasm in her voice.
Hancock turned her away from the bar and nodded towards a stunning one-eyed mercenary woman, her arms splattered with tattoos, who stood in the corner before he rested his chin on Betty's shoulder. The mercenary was surrounded by men and women alike who fawned at every word of her tale. "Like, you give her a run for her money, good."
"I-I could never be like her."
"You got it in you, I can tell, and my eyes don't miss a thing. Ready to meet Nicky?" Hancock asked. Betty nodded her head as her cheeks lost a hint of color and he chuckled. "Don't be nervous, I'm right behind ya."
As they left the Dugout, the marketplace swelled up with double the locals as business began to pick up. Hancock pulled the collar of his duster up as far as he could and led Betty to Valentine's office, a neon heart adorning the sign.
"A glowing heart leads the way," Betty whispered. "She was right again, but how?"
"I wouldn't try to understand. Psykers are a whole 'nother level. Probably best to just go with it," said Hancock. Betty reached for the door and the ghoul shoved past her. "Trust me, I should go in first."
Betty followed behind as Hancock took a breath and opened the door with a flourish. Betty rolled her eyes and wondered if she'd ever get used to the ghoul's dramatics. At least he was entertaining. The office was smaller than Betty imagined, most of the space taken up by filing cabinets bursting with yellowed papers and wrinkled manila folders.
"Nicky! My man, where you at?" Hancock announced. "Could do without the shooting this time, got a guest with me!"
"I thought you and this detective were friends," said Betty.
"Key word there is 'were.' We were friends, but had a...minor falling out."
A frazzled woman, her hair twisted into a bun high on her head walked down a small set of stairs, her arms filled with thick folders. A few began to slip from the top of the pile and Betty caught them before they fell.
"Mr. Hancock? Didn't expect to see you again after...well, you know," said the woman.
"Not here to cause any trouble, Miss Perkins. My partner needs Valentine's help," Hancock explained. "Betty, this is Ellie Perkins, Nick's secretary. Miss Perkins, Betty Parker."
"It's lovely to meet you, but I'm afraid you're too late though. Office is closed."
Betty's heart sank and Hancock asked, "Closed? The hell for? Where's Nick?"
"He's gone missing. Haven't seen or heard from him since he started working the Skinny Malone case."
"Jesus, Nicky went after him alone?" Hancock asked. Betty gave him a puzzled look and the ghoul clarified, "Huge mob boss from Goodneighbor. As you can imagine, he and I don't exactly get along."
"Malone kidnapped a young girl and Nick tracked her down to their hideout at Park Street Station," Ellie explained." There's an old vault there they use as a base. I told Nick he was walking into a trap but he just smiled and walked out the door like he always does."
"I'll bring him back, Miss Perkins. You have my word," Hancock assured her. He smiled at Betty, whose color faded by the second at the thought of going after a mob boss and said, "Ready for some real action?"
Outside the city, Hancock stopped Betty and began to unwrap the burlap package he carried.
"Was gonna give you this later on tonight but I thought it'd do us some good now, 'specially since we're messin' with Skinny Malone," Hancock explained. He handed Betty the assault rifle in all its new, stainless steel glory and said, "Merry Christmas, softskin. Let's fuck some shit up."
"Are you serious? This must've cost a fortune!" she said.
"Worth every cap."
Betty wrapped her arms around Hancock and hugged tightly as she shouted "thank you, thank you!" over and over again.
"Go on, give her whirl," Hancock said. "The door across the street from us."
Betty took aim and fired, the explosive shots annihilating both the door and the brick mortar surrounding it. Her mouth hung agape in utter wonderment.
"God damn," he said, his voice rough. "That just made me a little hard."
"Why am I not surprised? And you're not going to believe this, but I got you something too, only please don't use them until later?" She pulled a handful of chems out from her pack, along with a pair of patrolman aviators. "The chems dealer said these are pretty rare and the sunglasses are for hangovers, when the light's too bright. Learned that trick in law school. I shouldn't be proud of that, but I totally am."
"Christ...Day-Tripper, Overdrive and X-cell? Haven't had these in a couple years! Man, tonight's gonna be insane. You might wanna keep me on a short leash. And these shades," Hancock said as he put them on, "are bitchin'."
"Glad you like them, though they can't possibly compare-"
"-Not another word. That ain't how presents work," said Hancock before he lifted her off her feet with his embrace. He set Betty back on the ground and kissed the top of her head before he said, "Seriously, thank you, Birdie. Between this and your boss display of, heh, public affection earlier made my day. Year, even."
"Oh god, you're never going to let me forget that, are you?" she asked.
"Not a chance."
The sky was clear and a lovely shade of blue. Truth be told, the day bordered on perfection, which gave Betty a bit of extra hope they would find Nick and bring him back without too much trouble. She knew in her heart that by the end of the day, however, there'd be a trail of bodies left in their wake. As the pair walked towards Park Street Station, Hancock explained to Betty that he and Skinny Malone had been butting heads for the past few years, although neither party was eager to attack the other for fear of destroying the entirety of Goodneighbor. Now that Hancock had the drop on Malone, he'd get rid of mobster for good.
"Park Street Station," Betty said to herself as they arrived. "Should we try to sneak in or-"
"-We go in guns blazin', softskin. Might scare a few of 'em off with your present there."
Hancock gave Betty and himself a once over before he decided there was no time like the present. He pulled a grenade from his pocket, pulled the pin with his teeth and rolled it down the broken escalator. When the ensuing explosion shook below, a cloud of dust and debris drifting out, he rushed downstairs with Betty close behind.
"They're here for the detective, ice 'em!" yelled one of Malone's men.
"Merry fuckin' Christmas, assholes!" Hancock shouted before he blasted a triggerman's head clean off his shoulders. "Man, that's gotta be better than crossin' the Delaware."
"Didn't take you for a history buff," said Betty before she ducked while a triggerman swung his empty submachine gun at her.
"An educated man is feared out here," he said. He kicked one of Malone's men to the concrete and shot a slug into his chest. "And I ain't one to fuck with."
Betty kept up with the ghoul, mowing down several triggermen down with a single clip.
"Shit, it's Hancock! We need backup in here!"
"Gonna need a Fat Man to take me out!" Hancock shouted. With a glance at Betty, he added, "Better make that two of 'em!"
Betty grabbed Hancock's shoulder and pulled him behind a pillar as a fresh set of triggermen rushed the room. She stuck out her assault rifle and shot blind, the explosive mod doing its job and killing several more goons. He pulled her close to his chest as a growl of satisfaction rumbled into his throat, the pillar a shelter from the hail of bullets.
The pair cleared the room and continued down several stairwells in their search for Detective Valentine until the reached the subway tracks and another firefight. This time, it was Betty who rushed ahead, bullets flying every which way.
A triggerman, hidden behind a blockade, snatched Betty's wrist and before Hancock could reach for his throwing knife, she kneed the man in the groin before bringing down the weight of her rifle on his neck. With the help of a few more grenades, the tracks were littered with the remains of triggermen, some not entirely whole.
"Should be over this way," said Hancock after giving Betty a few minutes to loot for ammo. He smiled at her and said, "You ain't too bad at this. Proud of ya, softskin."
"This gun is fucking unreal," Betty said, out of breath. "I really do love it."
"Meant to tell ya back at the city, but...I kinda dig it when you say 'fuck,'" he said. All Betty could do was shake with laughter.
Betty cleared the vault entrance on her own as Hancock stayed behind, making a mental note here and there to help Betty improve on later. Too much hesitation on the killing blow, a bit overzealous at the charge.
"Your back!" he barked, loud and true, over the deafening gunshot and screams of triggermen. Betty turned and drove the bayonet on her rifle into the stomach of a triggerman. "Good move, two more!"
Betty fired a few rounds and the subway grew silent, a tomb for what was left of the mayhem.
"You did damn fine there. Don't rush in right away next time, and you'll see there's usually a better shot you can go for," said Hancock. "When I learned that, it was smooth sailing."
"I knew there was a good reason to keep you around," she said as she wiped her brow.
"Said I'd show ya the ropes." The ghoul looked over the controls of the vault door and asked, "Think you can get this open?"
Betty plugged in her Pip-boy and a manual override later, the massive door of solid lead and steel screamed open.
"Never been in a vault before!" Hancock shouted over the noise.
"Nothing to write home about!" Betty answered.
A walkway extended out and aligned with the entrance and when it locked into place, Hancock strolled in with Betty on his left. A triggerman stood by a shelf, his back to the pair. Hancock held a finger to his lips and his partner nodded as he handed her his shotgun. The ghoul crept up behind the triggerman and without warning, reached out and snapped his neck, the body toppling into the shelf with a loud crash.
"Jesus, Hancock," Betty whispered, a bit pale.
"I know, right? I was tryin' to be quiet and he had to fuck it up," he said as he took back his shotgun.
When the pair found the door to Vault 114 locked, they were forced to go the long way around, down a series of hallways and a corridor that emptied out to an unfinished area of the vault. Hancock urged Betty forward and tapped the scope of her assault rifle.
"Pick off as many as you can from up here," the ghoul whispered as he peeked over the railing. Don't worry about anythin' else, I got your back, and remember what I told ya."
Betty looked through the scope and counted seven of Malone's goons. "Who's the better shot?" she muttered to herself. She made her choice and took aim at a triggerman carrying an assault rifle similar to hers. He'd be trouble for them...unless she killed him first.
"Don't hesitate," Hancock said. "These guys wouldn't hesitate to kill you first."
She squeezed the trigger and when the bullet pierced the triggerman's chest, all hell broke loose. With Betty still using her scope to pick off enemies, he wrapped a few fingers around her belt loop and guided her down the platform and behind the cover of several large, metal tubes. He stood up and rushed a few feet ahead, shooting off slug after slug.
With the triggermen losing the battle, some chose to flee and Hancock took great joy in shooting them before all others. "Fuckin' cowards, come back and fight me!"
"You enjoy goading them, don't you?"
"Almost too much, softskin."
The platform led the pair to another room where the only way to go was to drop down an air shaft, a fall that could cripple either of them with ease.
"I'll drop first, and then you follow me down when the coast is clear. Make sure to keep an eye out when I do; we might've missed one or two out there."
Hancock strapped his shotgun to his back and held his combat knife between his teeth before he lowered himself down the air shaft. Arms extended, he let go before he landed on his feet, knees weak for a moment before he stood up and saw the room was empty.
"Now hold on to the ledge and drop down like I just did," Hancock shouted up the air shaft. "Hang down as far as ya can before you let go. Bit of a fall, there."
"I never had the chance to tell you this but...I'm a little afraid of heights," Betty said, her voice a few octaves higher than normal. "Falling to my death, really."
"You gotta be shittin' me."
"No, no I shit you not."
Hancock chuckled and said, "Ain't got a choice now, Birdie. Toss your rifle down so you don't gotta worry about it. I'm right here, I gotcha."
He caught the rifle with ease and lay it on a desk beside him before he motioned for Betty. She climbed over the ledge, her knuckles turning stark white with her grip. She stretched out her arms and closed her eyes before she let go. Even two literal seconds of free fall was enough to speed her heart up. Hancock caught her before she hit the floor and helped her stand steady on her feet. "Not so bad, right?"
Betty picked up her rifle from the desk and took a seat to catch her breath before she answered, "I could've done without that, but..yeah. Thanks."
Down the short hall, was a door leading directly into the vault. Inside, Betty peeked through a glass window as Hancock checked down the hall for any more trouble.
"See anything?" he asked in a loud whisper.
"One guy, in front of that window up there; I can take him out with the rifle before we go in."
"Likin' that confidence! Show me how it's done, softskin."
At the end of the hall, Hancock opened the door and Betty took aim. She held her breath and when the crosshairs of her scope met with the triggerman's head, she breathed out and squeezed the trigger, obliterating him.
Hancock cleared his throat and said in a low voice, "Man...this chub just won't quit. Gonna have to do somethin' about that."
Betty shook her head and pushed him through the door as she hissed, "For the love of Christ, you can rub one out later, we have shit to do!"
Hancock leaned against the wall and clutched his sides with laughter. Betty walked ahead and stepped over the now headless body of the lone triggerman guarding the floor. Behind the glass, a room was dark as night until the flash of lighter illuminated the man within, a plume of smoke enveloping him. The ghoul studied Betty's reaction, and she cocked her head as she watched the man behind the window.
"We got about three minutes before they realize muscles-for-brains ain't coming back. Get this door open," the man in the room demanded.
Hancock nodded towards the terminal beside the door and asked her, "You a hacker, too?"
"Something like that," she said as she pulled a bobby pin from her hair and bent down to peer at the lock on the door.
She dug around her pack until her fingers found a red, plastic screwdriver and with both tools, picked the lock on the door. Hancock raised his would-be brow and said, "Well, well..nimble, ain't ya?"
"Told you I wasn't that much of a good girl."
A light flickered on, but the room appeared empty at first glance.
"He was just here!" Betty whispered.
Hancock walked into the room and a shadow rushed him, an arm around his neck and the barrel of a gun at the ghoul's temple.
"Nicky! It's me, it's Hancock!" the ghoul sputtered as he tried in vain to pull Nick's arm away from his throat.
"Oh, I know it's you, John," said Valentine, his voice dark. "A knight in shining armor. But the question is..why does he come all this way, risk life and limb, for an old private eye?"
"Let him go or I'll shoot!" Betty shouted as shoved her assault rifle in Valentine's face. His eyes...his eyes weren't right and she couldn't help but gasp in shock at this being who was more machine than man.
"Birdie, wait!" Hancock groaned as reached out with his hand to stop her. "God damn it, Nick, she don't know what you are! Talk to me!"
Nick Valentine dropped Hancock to the ground and pointed his gun at Betty instead. The ghoul struggled to his feet and threw himself in front of her, arms outstretched. "No, not her! Kill me and let her go if you're gonna kill someone. I deserve it a little bit."
"A little bit, John?" Nick asked.
"Okay, a lot of bit," Hancock replied. With a slow, careful hand, he pushed up the barrel of Betty's rifle and whispered to her, "Birdie...put the heat away. His beef's with me, not you."
Betty refused and shouted over Hancock's shoulder, "What the fuck are you? Disable current program! Delete system 32!"
Hancock doubled over with laughter he couldn't contain and managed to choke out, "Nicky, don't mind her. She ain't from here, really."
"Didn't expect a pair of clowns to come to my rescue." Nick shook his head and added, "Did you steal this one away from someone else, too?"
"Look, I don't know how else to put it. That shit is done and over with. Been done for years now, and I ain't been alone with Irma since. So no, it ain't like that with me and Betty, here...though I wouldn't mind one fuckin' bit, she's a peach, ain't she?" Hancock looked over to his partner, who still had her rifle aimed at Nick and yanked the gun from her hands. "Relax, killer."
Without missing a beat, Betty ripped Hancock's .44 magnum from his holster and took aim at Nick Valentine's face with a scowl. The synth blew out a cloud of smoke before he said, "More nightshade than peach, I'd say."
"I won't let you kill him," Betty said to Nick. "Point that gun at him again, and you and I are going to have some serious fucking issues."
"Protective, too, of the ones she cares for. You must be a mother," said Valentine.
"I am. Spare Casanova over here and help me find my son...please," said Betty. "He was kidnapped, but I don't have much to go on. I'll pay you whatever you want."
The detective lowered his weapon with a hard glance at Hancock, who turned away sheepishly and said to Betty, "Missing kid, huh? Well, you came to the right man. If not the right place. I've been cooped in here for weeks. Turns out the runaway daughter I came here to find wasn't kidnapped. She's Malone's new flame, and she's got a mean streak. Let's blow this joint and we'll talk more about your son."
Valentine tossed the cigarette butt aside and marched past Betty. Hancock urged her to follow and she whispered, "What is he?"
"Second gen prototype synth," Valentine answered over his shoulder.
"Bastard's got good ears, so no point in whisperin'," said Hancock.
The pair followed Nick down a few halls and corridors until at the bottom floor, the synth stopped and announced, "I hear more of Malone's boys up ahead. How do you wanna play this?"
"Hard and loud, just how I like it," Hancock replied with a wink for his partner.
Betty covered her face with her hand and Nick asked her, "How can you stand this guy?"
"I don't know, but he's getting worse by the hour," Betty said with a smirk.
"More fun for me, then," said Hancock before he stepped out, shotgun in one hand, a .44 in the other and shouted, "Missed me?"
"With every bullet so far," Nick said under his breath.
Betty and the detective followed, guns out and ready as they unloaded their clips on the triggermen.
"That ghoul may be a thorn in my side, but he gets the job done," Nick admitted to Betty. "Too bad for whoever cleans up the floors."
They followed Valentine until a jammed door blocked their way, the button to open it shorted out. Hancock whistled and said, "Nicky, come get this, would ya?"
Betty watched the synth push back his battered fedora and examined the button for a moment before he tore off the cover to it with ease, exposing the wiring beneath. He stuck his skeletal, metal hand into the wires and felt for something before he yanked out a red wire, opening the door. The group passed through the living quarters, killing a couple of triggermen on the way.
Finally, they came to a door that would lead them back to Park Street station and Valentine put his ear to it before he said, "I hear big, fat footsteps on the other side of here. Once we step through the door, get ready for anything."
"Get behind me," Hancock said to Betty through gritted teeth. "This ain't the time for practice...and I'm gonna murder that piece of shit."
"You sure that's wise, John?" Nick asked.
"If I had it my way, there'd be a lot less tyrants." The ghoul cocked his shotgun and said, "Open the door, Nicky, and lemme start with Malone."
When they walked through the door, Skinny Malone stood in their way, waiting for them with a venomous smile. His goons pointed their guns at Nick and Hancock who weren't shy about pointing theirs back, and Betty peeked out from behind the ghoul's shoulder.
"Hancock, what're you doin'? You come into my house. Shoot up my guys. You have any idea how much this is gonna set me back?" Malone asked the ghoul. "Tell ya what. Hand over that pretty little thing hidin' behind ya and we'll get back to being square. The boys could use some fun."
"You touch a hair on her head and I'll tear your fuckin' heart right outta your chest," Hancock snarled. Betty pressed her cheek against his back, a silent thank you on her part.
"None of us would be here if it weren't for your two-timing dame, Skinny. You ought to tell her to write home more often," said Nick.
A young woman in a short, sequined dress laughed as she held an oak baseball bat over her shoulder and said, "Aww...poor little Valentine. Ashamed you got beat up by a girl? I'll just run back home to Daddy, shall I?
"Shoulda left it alone, Nicky. You too, Hancock. This ain't the old neighborhood. In this Vault, I'm king of the god damn castle, you hear me?" Malone shouted, silencing the room. "And I ain't lettin' some private dick, a rottin' degenerate, and his little floozy of the week shut us down now that I got a good thing goin'!"
Both Hancock and Betty took aim and fired their weapons until there wasn't much left of Malone or his goons. The young woman stared at the bodies a bit shaken before she walked up to Hancock and backhanded him, her slap loud and sharp.
Betty shoved her partner aside and reared back before she punched the woman square in the jaw, knocking her out cold. She moved toward the woman again, arm cocked, and Nick held her back. "That's enough!"
Hancock rubbed his jawline and said, "Damn, Birdie. That was hot."
Nick nudged the dead mob boss with his foot and said, "So much for Skinny Malone." He looked at Hancock and asked him, "Think he's lighter or heavier with all those holes in him? Bullets probably add a few ounces."
"Don't matter now." Hancock stood over the corpse and spat on it. "Here's to all the old days, you fat fuck."
Nick heaved the young woman over his shoulder and said, "Let's get out of here. There's a service ladder we can use that goes right to the surface. I'm going to bring Darla here back to her parents and I'll meet you both at my office. Thanks for breaking me out, to both of you."
"Does this mean we're friends again, Nicky?" Hancock asked with a grin.
The synth nodded his head and replied, "It's a start."