The contact didn't have a lot of other information for Deacon, once Deacon finally managed to regain his trust. He'd seen Kellogg disappear for a short, maybe 10-minute, meeting with the mayor, buy the house from Geneva, and walk out. He hadn't seen him since, though he'd been looking. Carl had known the word on the street was that Kellogg worked for the institute, had recognized the man because a caravan hand he'd worked with in the past had talked about trying to hire him. Carl's cousin was a Railroad Tourist up to the North, so he'd known just enough to get the information to the right people. It was a shame - Carl was expressing interest in joining the Railroad, in some capacity. A well-meaning do-gooder. But he was in Piper's headlights, too hot to touch right now. Especially if Piper wrote a tell-all about Kellogg. Shit.
Deacon didn't tell him any of that, though. He gave Carl the Desdemona schpiel - they weren't looking for new agents right now (they always were), they didn't have the resources to train someone up (they never did), it's not you it's me (it's always you). Anyway, he didn't think Carl had the nerves for it. Deacon wasn't sure he had the nerves for this himself, after Piper had personally put him through the wringer tonight. But few people could unhinge him the way she could.
Welcome to Diamond City, and all that.
The moment the shops opened in the morning, Deacon darted into the basement of the Mega Surgery Center. Doc Crocker was a bit of a creep, but he was a master with a scalpel, and Deacon wasn't going to feel comfortable going out with this face now that Piper had made it. I'm not done with you. Jesus, she could be intense. Deacon would think she was crazy if she wasn't, you know, right.
The Doc took a little too long with the surgery, saying something about not being able to get his jaw right or something. That he would be perfect if he could just, blah blah blah. Deacon didn't care about being attractive, he was just trying to not get made. Getting made meant getting killed, or worse, getting the people he cared about killed. Glory. Ms. Boom. High Rise. Tommy Whispers. Deacon had already lost too many people. He couldn't take risks. "Alex" and the face he'd walked into town with could never be seen again.
Deacon managed to convince Doc Crocker to let him leave, without the jaw adjustment he so wanted to make. A hundred caps well spent. He sheared off a few inches of his hair, too, right there in the Doc's basement before heading to the Super Salon to get it properly trimmed. God forbid Piper should see him with his new face but recognize his hairstyle. Deacon had John the hair stylist dye his hair, too, a plain dirty blond, and mixed in some product to keep his hair from doing that wavy thing it liked to do. No way would Piper recognize him now. Take that, Piper.
Hmm. Maybe he was the crazy one. But he was also, you know, right.
By the time he was done killing Alex and replacing him with Chris - overconfident caravanner from the South, new to the Commonwealth and looking for a place to settle - it was nearly noon. And he still didn't know what Piper had put out in her morning edition. A pit of dread curled in his stomach as he listened to Nat, Piper's kid sister, hawking the newspaper just down the walkway from the Super Salon. The rest of his mission was going to depend on what Piper had put in that paper.
John finished with his hair, and Deacon tossed him his caps and left, making for Nat's stand outside of Piper's house.
"The latest news from the Commonwealth! Everyone who's anyone reads the Publick Occurrences!" Nat caught sight of Deacon as he approached, switched her focus to him. "Hey mister! New in town? The Publick Occurrences will set you straight!"
Deacon handed Nat the five caps she was charging and took one of the papers with little more than a nod. Nat didn't seem as all-knowing as her older sister, at least, not yet, but he didn't want to give her any excuse to remember him. The last thing he wanted was for his new persona Chris to become a topic of conversation around the Wright family dinner table.
He made for the stands, unfolding the paper and speed-reading through the article titles as he walked. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Some kid named Sheng Kowalski had opened up his own water business, that was her headliner. Everything else was small-time. Caravan changes, raider reports. No warnings about scar-eyed mercenaries anywhere.
It didn't sit right with him, but it meant he should probably proceed as planned with the mission. He made for the lift to the mayor's office. As long as Kellogg wasn't on his guard yet (or more on his guard than usual, anyway), Deacon stood a chance at infiltrating his new house, and maybe figuring out what he was up to, or even gathering valuable intel on the Institute. He hit the lift button.
This was unlike Piper, though. Last night, she'd sounded like a woman on a mission. Like she was about to plaster the town with wanted posters of Kellogg's face, listing his various crimes. Had she backed off? Gotten scared? He'd never seen it happen to her before, but Kellogg was no joke. Unless - unless Kellogg had killed her, to silence her. Deacon felt like he was going to be sick, and it wasn't just because he was about a hundred feet up in the air on a rickety two-hundred-year-old construction lift.
You don't know that, Deacon told himself. Do your investigation, see what turns up. Don't jump to conclusions.
The lift came to a halt in front of the mayor's office, extending its walkway and idling precariously at the edge of the window. What a mess of a city. No, Deacon never did enjoy Diamond City much. He stepped in, carefully, keeping his eyes on the wall opposite and trying not to look down. Geneva greeted him as he walked in.
"Need something, honey? Housing permit? Looking for a job?"
Alright. Time to introduce Chris. Deacon flashed her a too-wide smile, adopting that salesman persona that only the least successful caravaners had.
"New in town," he said, as though it were the news of the year. "Looking for a place to set up shop while I run my caravan. I was told you were the one I should talk to about that?"
"We have two - oops, one house available," Geneva said, leaning forward and digging through her papers, adopting a more professional air. "It's the - yes, the one that's left is in the center of town, right near the market. Perfect for a caravaner, don't you think?"
She flashed a salesman smile at him which rivaled his own. Damn. Christ needed some work, if Geneva was going to beat him at his own persona.
"That does sound good," he said, "I need to ask about security, though. Last settlement I was at, I had a good portion of my shipment stolen because the town hall kept the spare keys out where anyone could get them. I'd rather that not happen here - I'm starting a new route in the Commonwealth, I can't afford mistakes like that so early on."
Geneva waved her hand, dismissing the idea. Deacon heard the lift get called back down to the ground, and realized they'd have company shortly. He just hoped it wasn't Kellogg, come back for another meeting.
"I wouldn't worry about that," she said, pulling out a drawer from her desk and tapping it. Deacon caught a glance of a cup full of various keys, but only for a moment before she had closed and locked it again. "I keep all the spare keys right here, and the mayor's office is guarded at all times. Besides, with the lift, it's hardly like someone could sneak up here. No, your biggest worry would be lockpicks - and the houses around here have good, strong locks. The thin kind, too thin for bobby pins. You won't find a safer place to keep your supply this side of the Commonwealth."
Deacon smiled, as though relieved.
"Well, that's a load off my mind," he said. "I'd have to gather up my funds, but I'd be interested in that house. What's the process like for getting one of those housing permits, anyway? I heard from someone you had to talk to the mayor?"
"Oh, no, that won't be necessary, I can handle everything right here. How long do you think it will take for you to - " Geneva looked up, and her face closed down, her guard went up. "Hold on a moment for me, will you?"
Deacon followed her gaze behind him - where Piper Wright, in her trademark red trench coat, was disembarking from the lift. Not Kellogg, then. Worse. Infinitely worse. He swiveled back to face Geneva, a little too quickly, and tried to regulate his heartbeat. No way she'd recognize him. His face was completely different, he'd made sure of it.
She's alive, part of him acknowledged, genuine relief washing through him. Kellogg didn't kill her. She was, after all, just a civie, no matter how much she terrified him personally. He didn't wish her dead. He just wished her, you know, elsewhere.
"Geneva!" Piper greeted, too cheery. Caffeine again. "You don't look happy to see me."
"I wonder why," Geneva muttered, not quite quietly enough. "What do you need, Piper?"
"I need to talk to you," she said, ignoring Geneva's attitude. "Come on, Geneva. Don't you have time for your old pal Piper?"
She was laying it on thick, emphasizing pal. Geneva and Piper had never gotten along well, Deacon knew that much, though Geneva was polite enough to pretend otherwise most of the time. To his dread, Geneva nodded to Deacon, drawing Piper's attention to him. Not Deacon. Chris. Everything was fine, Chris looked nothing like Alex and this was fine. Sure. He told himself that.
"I was actually busy getting this fine young man set up with a housing permit," Geneva said, "so if you don't mind - "
"A housing permit? Really? Been selling a lot of those lately, haven't you?"
Piper had already whipped out her notebook and pencil. Damn. If her draw time was as quick on her gun as it was on that damned notebook, she could be deadly in a shootout. Geneva gave a long-suffering sigh.
"I don't give away resident's information, Piper. If you want to investigate the new arrivals, do it outside of my office. I'm sure you can find your victims down in the marketplace."
"Hmm, that's just it, this new fellow, he doesn't get out much. Doesn't he deserve a warm Diamond City welcome? Gimme the location, and I'll pay him a house call."
"No, Piper. I'm not letting you bother that poor man. Go find something better to do, why don't you? Maybe a man to flirt with?"
Piper huffed, snapping her notebook closed and giving up on Geneva. She whirled on Deacon instead.
"You!" she started, and Deacon nearly jumped out of his skin at the abrupt and unfortunate change in focus. "You're here to get a housing permit - which house was she selling you? There were only two for sale last week, so which one is left, huh?"
Geneva palmed her own face, trying to smooth down the stress lines forming on her forehead.
"Piper, please, don't scare the man off. He hasn't bought the house yet."
Deacon held up his hands in a gesture of surrender, glancing between Piper and Geneva.
"Sorry, lady. It sounds like I'm not supposed to tell you."
Piper advanced on him, poking him in the chest with her pencil. Deacon almost tripped backing up, and landed against the wall, nowhere to back up to. He had to keep reminding himself that he had a new face, she wouldn't recognize him, he had a new face.
"I don't know you," Piper said with confidence, and Deacon felt his shoulders sag in relief. "But I can tell you're a good man. So you oughta know that this other new fellow is a very, very bad man. He's killed a lotta good people, and I want Diamond City to be prepared now that he's moving in here. Don't you want to know what kinda town you're moving into? Don't you think the people here have a right to know?"
"No offense," Deacon said, crossing his arms in front of him, "butI don't know you. Maybe I'm not a good man, and maybe he's not a bad man, and maybe I don't care who lives here and who doesn't."
Piper dismissed it out of hand.
"Nah," she said. "I've got good instincts. And besides, I'll prove it to you. You gimme the information I need, and I'll show you what I've got on Kellogg, not to mention what you'll be able to read in my paper once I'm through with him."
Deacon shook his head, then paused. It was a terrible idea, really. But what if she had info the Railroad didn't? Information which could help their cause, save lives, stave off Kellogg? With Piper's passion for investigation, it was likely she knew something valuable. And he needed a distraction if he was going to be able to steal that key. Piper, for good or ill, was the very definition of distracting.
"How about the other way around? You show me what you've got on the guy, then maybe I dish." Deacon saw Geneva's stress lines return, and he flashed her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, sweetheart. I do wanna know what I'm moving into. New in town, and all."
"Fine," Piper said, holding out a hand for a handshake that felt more like a warning than an agreement. "Meet me at the noodle stand in ten minutes. I'll bring my notes on Kellogg. I'm Piper Wright, you are?"
"Uh, Chris," Deacon said, stumbling over the name because she was giving him that damn look again, like she was seeing right past his expensive facial surgery and memorizing his skeleton. "Chris Tiegler."
She nodded, committing the name to memory, then turned on her heel and strutted out, hitting the button to bring the lift down without waiting to see if Deacon was following her. Deacon pushed off of the wall he was still plastered against, turning back to Geneva.
"Don't believe half of what she tells you," Geneva said. "She's the biggest gossip in the Commonwealth."
"I'm more interested in lunch at the noodle stand," Deacon assured her, trying to set her anxiety at ease. "You implied she was single?"
"Among other things," Geneva said disparagingly. "You're a brave man. Come on back here if you want to talk more about that house."
"Will do," Deacon said, heading for the lift as it returned to the top. "Wish me luck?"
Geneva snorted.
"You'll need it."
Yeah, I really will, Deacon thought, clinging to the railing of the lift as it descended back down into the field. What the hell did I just agree to?