CHAPTER 48
Hit a Home Run, then face-planted right before the base.
The teleportation pod that had been dropped off to allow the synthetic soldiers access to Diamond's outside was secured by Diamond soldiers, who tore open some panels and wrecked the wiring inside, preventing it from being used further to teleport more androids in.
Sanford, Hancock and the Deathclaw were 'Escorted' -this had been a common thing for Sanford and Han' before the sort of trust that was established between them and the city -to the main entrance gates, and Sanford saw that the Deathclaw at his flank, was also being watched down the scope by teams of snipers up on Fenway's tower-laden walls.
Fenway Park... Holy heck, he hadn't seen it for what it once was in a decade of HIS time, but over two hundred years in basic time.
He didn't remember a lot about what it had looked like when he was a child- he remembered masses of people wearing red and white, or red and green- caps and jerseys and water canteens all plastered with red script reading- Red Sox! -or- Go Red Sox!- there was talking, laughing, cheering, crossing guards calling out for people to walk or cars to wait.
Sanford couldn't imagine anyone currently living in the former sports stadium could even comprehend that- thousands upon thousands of people, all the noise, all the activity, the FUN, who in the wastes beside him and Han' had he come across who comprehended fun?
There were SOME people, but the majority were just in it because there was nothing else they could do- you know, the old- 'It's either I wallow in this shit, or I'm dead, and I dunno' what happens when I'm dead and it freaks me out, so I'll stick to wallowin' in the shit.' -kind of thought process on it.
There were some pretty fine folk in Diamond, and some further south- but the passion of just living to be alive? Harder to come by in the dump that Boston had been rendered into.
So another thing that bothered Sanford, was not only the continuance of the earlier issue- him just being around all these people at once, and how it gave him hives- but the issue of exactly what he had thought of before came to mind.
The people in Diamond's ability to comprehend things.
How would they comprehend his Deathclaw?
Liham was so modest, so blunt about the whole thing-
"-I'll explain it to everyone."
-Yeah, EXPLAIN the talking, almost seven-foot tall reptile to the population of people who were taught from childhood that Deathclaws were family slaughtering monsters that lived in the dark and shit in caves, sounded absolutely easy flying from Liham's mouth.
Liham was always like that though- for the few times he and Sanford had conversed for longer than five minutes- Sanford had even gotten that blunt vibe, the 'To the point'- vibe from Liham, and that was discussing anything at all, even simplicities.
"I'm happy as long as nobody in that city gets whacked." Liham had said to Sanford when he quizzed something deep- a big question that was covered with a convenient smirk, a side quiz- 'Are you happy with your life'? -he had asked.
Sanford looked back on questions like that with a knowing shake of his head nowadays- what a thing to ask the city guard captain, of Diamond, no less- are you happy? What the fuck was Liham supposed to even respond with?
The man was almost fifty years old, he was an old guy by Wasteland standards- he'd seen things just as gruesome as Sanford had, he'd dealt with horrible and amazing things, he'd DONE horrible and amazing things, they had some kinship with that... But once that ship sailed, the age barrier, the different life experiences- Liham and Sanford weren't good for each other after more than brief encounters.
Neither man challenged the other, and neither man commented on the other- as Sanford got older and he started coming back with more and more stalwartness to his interactions with the security of Diamond, Liham became more tolerable of questions like that.
But what a goon Sanford had been.
Maybe nine or ten years ago he had asked that stupid question- are you happy? He asked that to a lot of people when he was first getting into the wastes, and really he wasn't interested at all in what they had to say about it either- he just wanted some self-assurance.
Because that was the question he asked himself awhile.
Am I happy?
HECK no he wasn't happy.
How could he have been happy when he was trying to learn to survive in an entire WORLD activily trying to kill him?
Sanford always said to the Deathclaw whenever they talked about it-
"I've had my time to be angry at how my life turned out."
-Well back then was his time. Sanford was angry, he was brash, he was stupid and he said and did stupid shit.
It had taken him almost a decade to fully master the things he did now, and even then, he still had so much to learn, so much to understand and mesh with...
So was life, but, life, precisely, wasn't so simple as it had been when he was a young child, like on the day he and his parents had shown up at this once bustling place of entertainment.
All those years ago, they trekked Boston City, all to watch a couple of guys swing wooden sticks at a ball.
Back then, the biggest threat they had to worry about was street crossings, and annoying soliciter stands that didn't know when to take 'No' as an answer.
...Back then, huh...
...Now look at this place.
All in the span of a few minutes, how unbelievable was that?
Sanford had been thrown into a fight with an entire contingent of armed androids with laser guns, and a biogenetically mutated lizard that wanted to rip him in half and eat him.
So Sanford had had his time to be angry, that had passed- but the fight for survival was probably never going to end until THE end, and Sanford purposefully avoided thinking about that finality to himself.
See that had turned into the NEXT question he always asked himself, instead of other people.
It started out as a query to happiness- it turned into two things-
'What would my parents say?'
'What will happen if I die?'
...He didn't know then, he didn't know now.
Sanford had no answer to either of those questions, and they were tormenting, particularly the latter.
They always said death was supposed to be something that just happened, you know- WHAM! -you're dead, something natural.
But that screaming Gunner back at the shop square earlier today?
How many times had Sanford seen direct proof that such nonsense was not the case?
It wasn't just the pain that scared him, it was the same thing he always asked, it was repetitive, he'd asked it a MILLION, God damned times, and no matter how many times he asked it to himself he always expected an answer when he would recieve none.
What was in the void after life ended? What did you do? What did you feel? See? Smell? Hear?
Is it just darkness? Like if you were blind and all your senses didn't work?
Is it NOTHING?
What did 'Nothing' feel like?
...Was there a heaven? Was there a God? Were his parents and friends up there?
...Or was there a hell? And had all the things he'd done earned him a place in endless agony?
Death, death, death, too much freaking death.
It was all he thought about sometimes- DEATH.
He inflicted it, he was at risk of suffering from it.
Such a thing he embraced and danced dangerously with every day of his waking life and yet he knew so little about it.
...Maybe the real question should have been-
'Is life just a road of hardships and horrors that I need to get through, in order to see something beautiful at the other end? When the gas finally runs dry.'
...Sanford had his head bowed at this mental imagery.
He looked over at the Deathclaw, who stood beside him, silently, along with several other of the folks that had ran out to meet them after the fight.
...Maybe the only light wasn't just at the end. He didn't know.
"...Is there a problem, Sanford?"
-She sounded grossed out as she talked to him.
Ouch.
That comment he'd snapped at her beforehand was really a dimwitted move.
Maybe even today, he still said stupid shit every now and again.
But that was part of being human. Though, with her in the question too, maybe better wording was, that that was part of being SENTIENT.
"...No problem," He coughed after a moment- lowly, he knew everyone around them was rather keen on observing the two of them- after all, she refused to stand in such proximity to anyone else. "I'm glad you're okay."
"Mm." She didn't look down at him. "Considerate." -She mocked.
"...Listen, I shouldn't have said what I said-"
"-Comme' vous avez' raison, connard'," She interjected sharply, eyes whipping down to him. "Actually, I find great pride in myself for besting my anger, and actually managing to form words in response to you right now."
"...For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"So am I."
"For what?"
She didn't answer.
Sanford, Hancock and her stood in the shade of the rectangular entrance gate to the interior of Diamond City- the grand entrance once used by all those crowds that had existed before the war. It was grimy, and all these years later it still had blast markings that had warped the surfaces of the walls of the very frame.
The chipped and browned metal was once painted all green, and now it looked, as described- brownish, cracked all over, there were veins of drawing blackness and shifting mass all over them.
Two staircases on either side of the gate area interior lead up to internal sections of the stadium walls- they were sealed over at the doorframes with welded plates of metal- as the security force didn't use the once vibrant chambers that made the insides of the stadium's flanks, the 'Bowl'.
After the war most of the rooms and chambers and boxes had collapsed- the walls were literally just mountains of debris nowadays that the people in Diamond used as a sort of natural barrier to protect them from the horrors of Boston's streets.
Ironically, as Sanford thought of that- he remembered that, technically, they were opening the gates for one of the things those walls were meant to keep out.
Liham had vanished back inside the duel sets of mechanical gates that sealed the main traverse point into the field- and once they had rattled shut again, Sanford and his companions found themselves surrounded by at least fifteen soldiers of the security force.
A row of guys, all silent, hidden beneath umpire and S.W.A.T gear, with all of their eyes locked on the Deathclaw- she glanced at a few of them every now and again, and grinned when they jumped to her sudden head movements.
Even though Sanford couldn't physically feel what the security men were experiencing- he could get a good idea that they were probably shocked, more shocked then they had ever been.
Each man and woman that was in the little 'Army' Diamond has set up for itself, had seen a fair share of combat situations, or things that were messed up, kind of like the stuff Sanford had gone through more times then he liked it to admit.
A lot of them had enacted the cruel art of taking life, some of them hadn't but had seen it- and they all dealt with a variety of travelers that passed by and to and from Diamond's gates- they ran into freaks, evil people, lovely people, confusing people, and people that just left an aura of idleness and stagnation in their wakes.
Never, EVER, had they come across someone with a monster, a Deathclaw, in tow.
Heck, some of the guards had never even seen one before.
They were all tense and Sanford didn't like it- he saw that most of the soldiers were gathered on her right flank, and he had purposefully put himself between them and her by standing there.
Hancock kind of seemed indifferent to it all- maybe a bit agitated- but the only reason for that was because he wasn't able to get to the announcer box on the top level of Fenway's wall sections- it was the Mayor's office, and whenever they had shown up, Hancock had always demanded he be able to use the loudspeaker, at least once.
All kinds of things had flown out of his vocal amplifiers- one time he turned on the microphone just to scream out- 'BITCH CAKES!' -and the following visit there were still some of the children that lived here repeating it constantly as they played in the streets between the shanty buildings of Diamond's heart.
One of the parents got so angry that she threw a brick at the robot, and Sanford had laughed at it, and Hancock had made a vulgar comment to which the husband then became involved, and the whole thing was defused when the child in question cried out, of course- 'BITCH CAKES!' -and Hancock responded accordingly- 'BITCH CAKES! That's right, lieutenant! TAKE THAT, parental authority, my sprocket!'
...Sanford hadn't seen that couple, or that little girl again after that.
Maybe they moved south with the Minutemen. They all talked like truck drivers all the time, they'd fit right in.
CHSM-!
vvvvvVVVVVMMMMM-
-The gates creaked, rattled, dust flew off of them- the sound of a mechanical winch spiralling echoed throughout the gate chamber and into the street behind them- the two giant plates of bolted steel parted left and right, their frames bumping against the beginning rails of either staircase on either side when they fully parted.
Sanford squinted through the brief sunlight exposure on the other side- and he saw the sprawling beginnings of the shanty town that was built in the field's land- rows and rows of squat buildings constructed from metals and wood.
There were huts that had aluminum roofs that splayed out and hung like metal flowers- there were cloth overhangs that were connected by stake and post to act as shade over scrap porches, and over market stalls selling food, mechanical parts, or even reading material.
Christmas lights were hung in drawling lines over whole streets- tied on one building on the right, hung over the path to another building on the left- and there was red, blue, yellow, green, white, all kinds of festive colors.
-Sanford leaned over to glance past the shoulder of one of the soldiers ringing them- and next to the noodle place he had frequented a few times, right in the entrance plaza down there, he saw what looked like a little Christmas tree set up, with golden yellow lights.
...What month was it, anyway?
...Was it really Christmas? Or, WOULD it have been if this was before the war?
Sanford hadn't seen the folks of Diamond dishing out the holiday decor in... He didn't even know how long, maybe a year or two. Interesting.
"-Well if YOU think it's that much of an issue, my dear Captain, then let me see the problem and attempt to commun- OHLORD!"
-The voice of an elderly gentlemen was promptly cut short with a wheezing gasp of quickly intaken breath.
Sanford looked over to the soldier's flank he had been bypassing with his eyes- and standing there between him, and Liham on the other side, was a man with gray hair, wrinkly facial features, with a handle-like mustache under a long, inquiring nose.
Mayor Jompson, of Diamond City, held his chest with a quivering hand as his hazel eyes snapped up and down all over the towering height of the Deathclaw- he breathed heavily, so much, that the breast of his tan business coat rose and fell repeatedly.
An older man, lost in the past age- he had a white suit under the coat, red tie with yellow plad patterns on it, and he wore a prim, tan fedora over his gray haired cranium.
Sanford glanced between his now startled friend, and the simiarly startled mayor- before nodding, and speaking out with-
"-Mayor Jom', how are ya'?"
"-S-Sanford Tobs!" Jompson almost sounded like he was ridiculing. "-W-What is the meaning of THIS! I- I don't even- d-does this... this CREATURE, belong to you?"
The Deathclaw angled her head back- insulted -and Sanford nervously laughed.
"-A-Ahm, I don't... I don't OWN her, by a longshot, Jom', she's... WITH me, if that's what you're asking, uhm... You wanna' say hi or something? Break the ice, tootse'?"
"Bonjour'." She snorted at Sanford, and then bowed a bit at the Mayor- whose jaw flapped open when she spoke. "I haven't come here wishing harm on anyone."
"I can vouge for that," Brody said hurriedly by the side of one of the guards. "She and Sanford helped us fight Gunners not too far from here earlier today."
"Interesting how you worded it with- 'Helped' -militiaman." She scolded.
"Hey-hey, we're all on the same side here, yes? Come on, Mayor, haven't you ever seen an intelligent Deathclaw before? I told you the stories!" Robert smiled widely. "She's not a threat! Believe me, I know."
"-I oughta'-! -ROBERT D. CANNARY! I should've known you would have something to do with this!" Jompson broke his gaze from the Deathclaw and snapped it over to Robert, who kept grinning sheepishly in response.
"I know, Mr. Mayor, trouble finds me."
"YOU find the trouble, Cannary!" Jompson jabbed a finger- he was so angry that his whole face was turning red, and the fedora on his head was threatening to fall off. "-I don't believe this! You go off with the militia and come back with a squad of synthetic soldiers from the Institute itself, two brawling Deathclaws, one of which is the- f-friend? Guard dog? Whatever, of Sanford Tobs, AND, you brought two of your Minutemen compatriots WITH YOU! Unacceptable! This will NOT DO!"
"Look, Mayor Jompson," Brody spoke out, holding a hand up. "Me and Roe don't plan on staying, we just wanted to ensure our friend and ally, Sanford, and his traveling companions, were unharmed, he's helped us greatly."
"Jom'," This was Sanford again. "-The last thing I intended was to bring a fight to your doorstep, especially of the caliber it turned out to be, you know me, I would never DO something to put innocent people under fire. Me, Hancock, and Deathclaw here wiped out a group of Institute hired Synth Planters, and they were targeting a citizen in Diamond named Jess', who Robert helped us identify and find.
If we didn't kill those planters, and the synths that were called down to liquidate the operation, they would have murdered her, and replaced her with a synthetic duplicate, you know that threat as well as I do.
-The other Deathclaw, I mean, I don't know where he came from, he was probably drawn to the gunfire. I-I was very lucky... To have, my friend here, show up when she did, I might've been dead."
Jompson's face wasn't the only one relieved of some tension after that- the Deathclaw huffed noticeably- she looked conflicted.
Sanford looked at her once and then back at the Mayor.
"...I can't even begin to understand this calamity," Jompson sighed, looking the Deathclaw's face over a few times, crossing his arms. "D-Does it have a name?"
"NO, I do not have a name, old man." She sneered. "I also do not have appreciation for you referring to me like I'm some fucking dog."
"...I-I'll be right back-!" Jompson wheezed, wide-eyed.
The Mayor's shoes clacked against the concrete, echoed throughout the gate entrance area as he ran back between the ajar entry panels- Sanford heard some shouting.
His armor creaked as he did his best to stand on his 'Toes' of his boots- Sanford peered over some of the guard's shoulders- he saw people stopping dead center the plaza down there, outside, arms wide, stances reclined back- Jompson was walking around waving his hands, talking loudly.
Some of them must have started to see her in the doorframe with all of them.
"...Hey, um, Tobs?" Brody shouldered his way closer to Sanford, past some of the Diamond soldiers- he tipped his hat at the Deathclaw when she glanced over.
Sanford looked down at the shorter man- he noticed Roe sticking quite close behind her Corporal, and she had her eyes locked on the Deathclaw, who did her own very best to ignore the glaring militiaman.
"Corporal," Sanford greeted after a quick glance between their respective secondary party members. "What's the news?"
"-I didn't want to leave you there-" Brody kept it going, took the first opportunity he got- and Sanford rolled his eyes, held up a gauntlet.
"-What's done is done, I got it."
"-Look I just wanted to get the civvies' out of fire," Jim frowned. "I lost half of my men doing that, I didn't take falling back without you, lightly. But I wasn't about to see women and children dead for my sense of chivalry. Just let me say that."
"I appreciate that, Brody, but like I said- we're alright."
"Alright now."
"I'm almost wishing we had just started to walk back home," Sanford commented half to him, half to the Deathclaw. "If it was gonna' be this much of a problem."
"Well, ya' know, SIR," Hancock butted in. "It might not be a bad idea to introduce the population of ass-lickin' monkeys to Lizard-Bo-Fizard over here, for future reference! 'Cuase it would suck, IF THE BASTARDS SHOT AT US WHEN THEY SAW HER WITH US! HUH? YEAH! ALL OF YOU!"
-The robot started ranting at the Diamond soldiers- some of them glanced between each other.
"-I wouldn't shoot at Tobs no matta' WHAT was next to him, I trust 'im." A guard commented.
"Hey, thanks!" Sanford chuckled. "See Han'? You're screaming pointlessly again."
"NOTHING I DO IS POINTLESS, YOU SAP!" Hancock barked. "It's all part of a grand master plan for my badass, Commie' whackin' self! Everything I say and do builds up for the ULTIMATUM!"
"...Hancock, just shut up. It's very simple, just, SHUT. UP."
"I'LL RIP OUT YOUR SPLEEN AND MAKE YOU EAT IT!"
"Oooo, I'm scared, man."
"FUCKER!"
"-Tobs," Jompson was back- he was moving a few of his men out of the way, and was pointing for the gateway, leading to outside. "Come on, they'll believe it coming from YOUR mouth."
Sanford glanced at the Deathclaw, and then Hancock, and he saw Liham hanging out by the mouth of the gateway, looking in after him.
"You're good at public speaking, right, Mr. Sanford?" Robert smiled, patting the suit's pauldron with his synthetic palm.
"I guess." Sanford sighed. "This oughtta' be fun."
"REMEMBER, sir!" Hancock cried as Sanford trotted ahead. "When in doubt! Say UNDERWEAR as loud as humanly possible! You can't undo the logic of underwear! IT'S AN UNBEATABLE ARGUMENT! Just answer- UNDERWEAR!"
"Is that Hancock of yours screaming about someone's undergarments?" Mayor Jompson muttered as Sanford drew past him.
"Yep."
"Why is he doing that? Last time he was here, he was yelling about motor oil, what happened?"
"Han', happened."
"...Right. The folks are anxious to hear your story with this... Interesting, situation."
"I'm sure."
Sanford didn't quite know how to describe the feeling he was getting right now, it was a combination of anxiousness, a bit of fear, maybe- those were like the detailed little things that were in with a boatload of uncertainty.
He hated this feeling- it was a dumbed down variant of the feeling he got whenever his life was in jeapordy- which was a lot nowadays.
Jompson walked beside him as the two men stepped into the brighter light of the day- the angular shadow border of the confines of the gate entry lapped behind their heads to oblivion- and Sanford winced before the suit's helmet compensated for the abundant sunlight coming from above.
Right out of a storybook tale- they beat the bad guys, and then the sun came out.
Sanford's boots stopped their clanking against the steel, grated floor of the stadium's internal hold- they now transitioned for the dirt ramp that descended down into the main plaza of Diamond- and standing there in a great assortment of all different kinds of clothes, faces, figures, was a crowd of people, THE people.
Sanford stopped short at the height of the trail down- he looked across this group of maybe thirty, forty people? He didn't see how many exactly.
They wore a lot of pre-War clothes- salvaged stuff that was sewn and patched up, and they weren't matted with dirt and grime like half the people wandering the wastes were- there were men, women, some children- Sanford darted his eyes down at the kids for a bit, after all, it was amazing sight.
Where else in the wastes had he come across such an abundance of 'Family Life'?
Look at those little shits... By their parents' waists, by their grandparents' waists... There were parents and grandparents to even BEGIN with... Good ole' Diamond.
"I hope everyone, or, nearly everyone is in attendance!" Jompson clapped his hands together, standing ahead of Sanford a bit. "We have an important ISSUE, today, that we need to discuss, to avoid misunderstanding... ehm... S-Sanford?"
There was a period of silence.
Sanford swallowed and looked out across the group of people.
They were all looking at him- he recognized some of them in the crowd- the noodle shop owner, Billet, darker skinned fellow with this laugh that would make the coldest people smile- Sanford hadn't seen him in almost a year- he was leaned over the counter of his shop down in the center rear of the plaza.
Mary was down there- the little old lady that sold home made clocks and electronics- she had a look of concern on her features, she was by Tommy Velk, and Tommy was in his leather coat with his messy brown hair draping over his green eyes- he looked worried, after all, Sanford was a good friend to him.
Sanford had made friends with a lot of people in Diamond, he just was never here enough to really bond with them a lot.
So here they all were, waiting for him to start speaking.
"-Where'd you get the suit, Tobs?" Came out from the crowd, from a man.
Sanford smiled, chuckled in a cut-off bought of nervousness.
"Uhm," He supported his gauntlets on his hips, looking at his boots. "-Found it, awhile ago. I-It's still me, under here."
Sanford reached up and took the helmet off of his head- it hissed and decoupled, he magnetically stuck it to his hip, grinned cheaply at the crowd, now bare-headed, and waved.
"How are ya'?"
"Sanford, the issue, if you would?" Jompson smiled impatiently.
"Right, so me and Han' are here, you can see that," Sanford spoke a little louder so everyone could hear him- Diamond was so quiet, that his voice rebounded down the shanty rooftops of the scrap city in Fenway's whole heart. "...We got ambushed by a group of synthetics, from the Institute. Uhm, they were trying to kill a girl, and, replace her with another synth... You all know how much of a threat that is."
There was some murmuring.
"Who were they going after?" A woman asked.
"Me." Jess was somewhere in the crowd, and she raised her hand.
Like a mass of meercats- all the heads turned inwards, and focused on the wouldbe journalist for a moment.
"THAT would figure," Someone interjected loudly. "-Ms. Riold ALWAYS finds trouble! Just like that Cannary fella'!"
"Shut the hell up, Raj!" Jess snapped. "Don't you think there was ENOUGH fighting today?!"
"Settle down NOW." Jompson barked. "Sanford, please continue."
"Listen, bottom line, me, Hancock, and my friend, wiped the synths out before they could do something," Sanford held a hand out. "-The issue here isn't the Institute, we took care of that, and Diamond security has the body cleanup covered. The issue here is my friend that I'm talking about- some of you might have caught a glimpse of her in the gate..."
"I don't even know what I saw." -Came from the crowd.
"It didn't look human."
"We don't ACCEPT Mutants here!"
"-HEY! Watch yer' mouth, Ghouls bein 'present ya know?"
"-Keep your two-cents you freaking zom'!"
"JACK! How dare you!"
-"EE-NOUGH!" Jompson shouted. "All of you need to listen very carefully at this moment, because-"
"-All of you need to shut the hell up, because I have a Deathclaw with me! And she's friendly!" Sanford snapped.
...The whole crowd went silent.
Even Jompson went silent.
Sanford looked at the Mayor, the people, and then back over his shoulder.
...Nothing for a good moment.
Someone coughed.
"-For the love of God- TOOTSE'! Hey! Come out here! Townies' want ya'!" Sanford called.
"Are you certain this is a wise course of action? Just bringing the creature out here like that?" Jompson snapped out of it- asking.
"Do you have a better idea?"
-Tiny pats of her leathery heels against the dirt of the ramp started growing in volume behind the two of them- Sanford glanced over his pauldron and Jompson was backing off, arms clenching over his chest.
Negating the spotlight shown pit that formed in her stomach, fell to her feet and festered- the Deathclaw took a big intake of air, held it, and trot out into the sunlight, her eyes adjusting after a second, and revealing the dirt plaza that was FILLED with... Humans. People. The monkeys.
The Deathclaw stopped short just behind Sanford- she looked at him, and then peered over his shoulder- even though she was tall enough to see -and examined about the crowd of forty or fifty people- she saw jaws dropping, eyes getting bigger, parents gripping kids, older folk staring ahead with uncertainty.
If Sanford had thought it was quiet when he was talking before, now, it was DEAD quiet.
A mutated scavenger bird flew off the edge of the one of the shanty roofs towards the center of town- it was so silent that they heard it on the other side of Fenway.
fhwhwhwmm... -The fluttering of wings, a pair of black feathers left to orbit to the ground as a parting gift.
Sanford saw Billet down there behind the circular counter of his noodles shop- he had his hands on the other side's edge of the wood- his mouth was open, one brow higher than the other.
"...The hell...?" -The same Ghoul that had commented before was heard distantly in the group.
Sanford huffed, he stepped aside, revealing the Deathclaw fully- and he opened a hand for her.
"Diamond City, Deathclaw- Deathclaw, Diamond City." When she just blinked- frozen next to him -he smiled at her. "Might help if you talk to them."
"...Bonjour'...?" She said lightly, raising a palm and opening her fingers.
A few gasps riddled throughout the place.
How pathetic.
Or maybe Sanford and Hancock really WERE freaks and it was that shocking what had transpired.
"...I do not wish to bring harm to anyone?" She tried. "I'm with Sanford?"
"HA! See that monkeys?!" Hancock zipped out from the gate chamber behind them- the Deathclaw was looking up at the sky in dismay as the Mr. Gutsy levitated near her, jabbing a buzzsaw at her. "-She's a TAME Deathclaw! She talks, speaks western European-Voodoo-Shit, AND, she's POTTY TRAINED!"
"Sac de' merde'!" -She lashed out with the back of her hand- CLK! -and sent Hancock sprawling on the dirt, his mechanical limbs flying around.
"-MAN DOWN!" Came from the fallen robot. "SOMEONE CALL A MEDIVAC! I'LL MENACE YOU WITH A SHOEHORN, YOU GODZILLA-IMPERSONATING TEST-TUBE BABY!"
"-Maladie' mentale'..." The Deathclaw grumbled. "Monsieur', can I step on him?"
"I'd prefer you didn't." Sanford sighed. "We have our little defective family, but, she's a good person, Deathclaw or not, we've been traveling for around a month, I think I know."
-Mayor Jompson tore his gaze from Hancock's sprawl on the floor- he blinked at Sanford, looked down at the people of Diamond.
"...What do you think, Jom'?" Came somewhere from the crowd.
"-I think we and Sanford Tobs have relied on mutual trust and honor with each other for this long, and, the only thing either of us have done is benefitted from it," Jompson cleared his throat. "-If the creature, the Deathclaw, can partake in an activity such as... THIS..."
"-FUCKERS!-" -Hancock barked.
"-Then I don't see the threat. You... Wouldn't happen to have a name, would you?" Jompson stuttered, directing himself to the Deathclaw.
The reptile looked at him, looked at the crowd, and then looked at Sanford- who was smiling expectedly.
It had taken her this long, and with this many hardships just to find a place willing to accept her. And even though she was very upset with Sanford for what he had said, she understood the art of forgiving, he DID apologize, after all.
She sighed, and answered with-
"-You can call me Nyx."
-0-0-0-0-0-