In the center of the second floor overlooking the cafeteria, Nick Valentine sits perched up on his knees with a visually loose composure that does a decent enough job at portraying a lack of interest or intimidation regarding his least favourite person in the entire vault. He watches the so-called mobster, Dino, as he circles Nick like some kind of old predatory bird, trying to put out an air of control that he's sure he doesn't have the gall to really posses, while Nick himself is only stewing in an attitude of intense exasperation.
"Well, well, well..." The bastard tosses his SMG between his sweaty paws, Nick tenses up at the prospect of him fumbling it and risking a barrage of loose rapid fire the second it hits the floor. He'd tell him to watch it, but he's already had his fair share of blunt force trauma for today, the ache in his knee is a quick and sharp reminder of Vinny's quick thinking when they found themselves suddenly faced to face with a group of Drones... though he would have preferred not to have been at the receiving end of it.
"Honestly, Valentine, I'm hurt," Dino continues, opening his arms in a wide gesture to display Nick's own trench coat which he'd commandeered along with his hat for the foreseeable taunts, it honestly looks terrible on him, "Deciding to risk your ass for some dame like you didn't learn your damn lesson after getting your ass kicked by Darla, come on man. You ain't got no reason to be doin' none of that."
Ah, the mobsters triple negative...
"You should've just joined the big leagues with us like I went and told you instead of jerking around Diamond City with a bunch of nobodies who don't want to give you the time of day," He grins, "Me n' the boys would love to have a novelty hangin' around, like one of them old timey bobble-heads you had keepin' you company up in the office."
Nick glances over to his goons as they stand off to the side, three johns watching the scene with minimal interest or occupying their hands by checking their firearms. They probably think just as much about Dino as he does; a dumb loud mouth who thinks he's in charge but is really only tolerated.
"Yeah, I'll pass..." Nick says after a moment.
The oldest of the three, having at least the decade on the other two who appear young enough to have training wheels on their SMG's, jerks his chin in the detectives direction, "Dino, just take the dick out, we got bigger problems."
"What was that?" Dino swings around, "You tryin' to tell me what to do now? Malone put me in charge of the dick, not you, so I got the final say on what to do with 'em, not any of you guys."
The drone only rolls his eyes, "He didn't put you in charge of shit, moron."
Dino suddenly jabs the barrel of his gun against Nick's forehead and the detective jerks, immediately he finds himself longing for the good ole' days when he was doing paper work back in Diamond City and no one went around waving a gun and beating the tar out of him.
"You want me to take the dick out, huh?" Dino sneers, "Is that what you want Paulie?"
Vinny, the kid who helped him out of the office, had been standing back out of Nick's view, doing a fine job of feigning his role in the detectives capture, but seeing the situation escalate, he immediately leaps into action, jumping up out of his silent stand-by before the unthinkable can happen, "Dino, come on man, Malone had him locked up for a reason, if he's gonna wack him, let him do the dirty work."
"You think you know the boss better than me, Vinny?" Dino presses the barrel against Nick's metal cranium with more force but the detective doesn't dare say a word in protest, or make any sound for that matter, he's too sure that Dino might pull the trigger out of anger rather than intent, "You been here, what, three weeks and you think you can tell me what to do?"
When Vinny smiles at him, it's with the smarm and attitude of a too good to be true, pre-war mobster. Nick didn't think the kid had it in him. He steps closer and leans in towards his friend with an arm swiftly hooking around his shoulders in order to speak in confidence like neither of them really considered Nick still kneeling on the floor.
"You know D, Malone is already pretty pissed at you for cheatin' the game of cards last week," Vinny murmurs, "What's he gonna do when he finds out you took the dick out without askin' 'em first?"
Dino grits his jaw tight, still angry but there's a sudden glimmer of fear in his eyes like he's willing to surrender to a john half his age before the threat of Malone's wrath, "What do you think I should do then, huh?"
"Forget 'em," Vinny waves a hand dismissively in Nick's direction, "Like your boys said, we got bigger fish to fry. Just lock 'em back up and deal with 'em later when things cool down."
"And risk 'em goin' nuts again?" Dino argues if only for the sake of trying to keep his leadership role, and for that, Nick is somewhat grateful. Anything was honestly better than ending up back in that damned office, "No dice, if we're keepin' 'em alive, we're bringin' 'em with us."
"Hey, it's your call, D. You're in charge here," Vinny pats him on the shoulder and then nods towards Nick, "You want me to grab 'em for you, make sure he doesn't try nothin'?"
Dino considers it for a moment, and then looks back down to Nick as he withdraws his SMG which more than likely left an indentation and the detective allows himself to relax, if only just a little. It's still two on four, but with Vinny managing to talk his way through Dino's thick skull, they might have a fair shot at taking them out.
"Alright," He finally agrees, "Let's blow this joint."
Vinny reaches down and grabs Nick by the collar, pulling him up and getting him to his feet, making a display of handling him callously before he shoves him forward. Nick lurches with a slight limp as the pain from his knee shoots up his leg and sends a red flag directly through his processor letting him know that Vinny more than likely knocked something loose when he kicked it out from under him earlier.
Just as Dino turns to address the uninterested goons to let them know they're all heading out to god-knows-where at this point, Nick feels the pressure of Vinny pressing something hard and angular against the small of his back. Without glancing over his shoulder, he reaches back and his hand wraps around what feels like the grip of a revolver or pipe pistol.
"Alright boys, we're headin' back, the dick is coming with us, so watch your asses." Dino announces, but as the turn of phrase is delivered with no doubt of seriousness, the two younger Drones are immediately sent into reels of laughter. Doubled over against each other and the only two who appear to get what's so funny.
Nick gets it... unfortunately.
The third, older, Drone reaches out and shoves the kid closest to him with a glower, "Hey, get your fuckin' act together, the hell is wrong with you two?"
"Can you guys not hear yourselves!?" The one on the right exclaims, "You're talkin' about dick so much, it's got us asking questions!"
"God fuckin' damn it, Matt, it's the lingo, we're not talkin' about his fuckin' wang, alright?" He snarls, "I don't even think he's fuckin' got one."
"Well, who the fuck decided we start calling detectives 'dick'?"
A few meters away from the immediate argument, Vinny gently taps Nick on the back to motion him to walk forwards, and as they do, he calls out to their meat-headed 'leader' as he stands aside trying to figure out why the hell his men are shouting at each other, "Hey, Dino, you got anything to cuff him with?"
Dino drops his hands, sighing with reservation, and turns to Vinny, reaching into his slacks to retrieve the object in question, "Yeah, I got a pair right here-"
The very instant his eyes flicker down to his pants, Nick feels Vinny move and decides in that moment to make a move as well. The two pull their weapons out in a synchronistic flash, silver gleams off the pistol Nick was given, a large revolver, and it comes up square to press into the center of Dino's noggin, hard to the skin as the meat-head looks up, cuffs in hand, to see what he just walked into. His eyes are glazed and slow, but it quickly registers in his face only seconds before Vinny open fires on the three Drones amidst their squabble. Their bodies drop hard with a series of quick split-second yelps that end their life before they hit the floor.
Nick slowly cocks the hammer back on the revolver, and the satisfaction that floods through him is damn near euphoric, "I'd like my hat and jacket back...If it's not too much trouble."
He can almost hear Dino wet himself, cherry on his damn sundae.
Luckily enough for the dolt, he doesn't want to shoot him as much as he wants to keep the bloody after-math from ruining his jacket and hat. Dino seems to sense this and swallows heavily, laboured like he's trying to choke down a bite bigger than he could chew, "Y-yeah, sure thing Nicky."
He begins to awkwardly shrug the jacket off, and Vinny walks over from nervously nudging the three fresh bodies to make sure they're not getting back up. Nick can see that he's tense, his face lined with fear and stress, that and he looks like he's going to hurl.
"You okay, kid?" Nick asks.
Vinny glances over at him and nods, chuckling anxiously, "Just... didn't think I'd be shootin' so many johns today, y'know?"
Nick smiles sympathetically, given that this kid is easily less than twenty years old. He can imagine children younger than him are subject to even worse, one of the harsh truths about growing up in the Commonwealth.
Nick goes to offer words of encouragement, or at least understanding, but a loud gunshot suddenly goes off from deep within the confines of the Vault, its echo seeping in through the cafeteria doorway beneath them and loud enough to funnel sound throughout the open areas not directly sealed by a doorway. Nick jerks his head towards the sound, and for that moment of silence following he's just listening.
"What the hell-?" Vinny starts to speak, but Nick holds up a hand and shushes him.
That's when he can hear it, barely audible, but it follows on the tail of the last fading reverberations of the gunshot, a scream, not one of shock or surprise, but a blood curdling shriek of pain, a wail of fear and desperation that locks his gears and sends a flood of images reeling through his head of the woman he'd tried to save and along with it, fear that his rash and impulsive thinking signed her death warrant. Vinny said she was safe with Tony, but how long was that going to last in an underground prison filled to the brink with angry johns?
Despite the pain in his leg and most certainly the danger to himself that it imposes, he turns on heel, snatching the Fedora from atop Dino's head, the jacket from his extended hand, but doesn't bother returning Vinny's pistol before he runs towards the right door on the far side of the room across the rails.
"Hey, Valentine, wait!" Vinny yells after him, "You got two dozen johns between you and the exit!"
When Nick makes it to the door that Vinny locked shut, he sees the wires that the kid had yanked out dangling under the control panel and for a moment suddenly dreads that his rescue might be cut short. Without much more than a hunch, he grabs them both between the fingers of his metal degloved hand and shoves them back up where they'd been connected. The light over the dial flickers and he feels a stumbling current of electricity vibrate through his fingers like a makeshift conductor, humming up his arm and numbing the joint of his elbow. He flicks the dial switch to open with his opposite hand and prays it'll be enough.
The door jerks, and after a second or two, it slides less than halfway open at less than half the speed it normally would, but Nick takes it nevertheless. He yanks his hand back out to cut the last reserves of power which locks it in place.
As he squeezes himself through the opening he created, he can hear Vinny call after him with a sudden alarm that he doesn't register until he's through and thoroughly committed to his target.
"Hey! What do I do with Dino?!" The young Triggerman's voice follows him up the hall and ultimately falls on deaf ears.
There wasn't a lot of time for Carolyn to catch her breath, not after the runner delivered the news. Tony mobilized the Triggermen in seconds and soon the entire group began jogging through the open construction zone across the grated walkways, up and around to the next concealed hallway resembling a small subway tunnel, she's not sure. Tony keeps his arm around her shoulders to guide her along at the front of the pack so she doesn't get lost in the hustle, she's grateful for the aid, given that there's no way she can keep up without it, especially on the stairs. Exhaustion creeps up into her neck and head now like a hot fever, she finds it impossible to think straight, aching so terribly everywhere else she can only think about the relief of settling down on a soft bed after a hot bath. Something she's sure is no longer a commodity, but nevertheless she craves the comfort like nothing else.
When the group finally comes to an abrupt stop it's because Tony throws his arm out, stiffly, without a word. Carolyn doesn't register at first where she is, standing just inside another dimly lit room with an open door, boxes stacked in front of the barred windows, but she can hear voices. Tony shuffles forward with Carolyn still at his side as though he'd forgotten at that moment she were still under his grasp, and hovers around the door just enough to peer out into the next room. That's when she sees him.
Standing in front of an unfamiliar overweight mobster with his large silver handgun pointing to the square of his forehead stands a giant of a man. He's easily seven feet tall, almost impossibly large for the bulk of his frame. There's only a fraction of a second where she can't quite grasp that the giant intends to shoot his target, thinking it would be like an old movie where it's an empty threat, a warning and display of superior ground, but the sound of the gunshot rings in the air without hesitation, and it's so painfully overwhelming. The crack is like a firework much too loud for the small space, and to her it sounds so familiar to the shot she'd heard behind the glass of the cryo-chamber that she jerks back with a hard gasp and covers her ears, bile rising in her throat as she can suddenly hear the same echo as it bounces off of the walls in Vault 111, hearing the shrill cries of her infant son as the hateful and remorseless face of a man comes into view from the other side of the cloudy glass.
The stark silence that follows is all around her, from the Triggermen at her back, to Tony at her side, and the group of young men that had the dead mobsters back, but in what feels like seconds, the wail of a woman erupts through the air, howling an unintelligible name as she lunges towards the giant. She's wearing a shimmering blue dress that catches the light as she moves, wielding a bat that she lifts to strike the assailant across the head, but his hand comes up like a bolt of lightning and catches it, his only reaction being the sound of it slapping against his hard skin, and the darkened expression stretched across his terrifying glower.
He then lifts one of his mud caked boots and stomps hard onto her bare shin.
The woman yelps as her entire body buckles, tearing her grip from the bat as her pallid limb bends in an unnatural contortion under the weight. The precision of his hard and powerful kickcauses a muted and dull SNAP to echo out into the awe-struck silence. Carolyn watches with hot and nauseating horror as the woman's scream of agony immediately follows, all colour drained from her face in a cold sweat as she wraps her hands white knuckled around her thigh, curling in on herself as the man's boot lifts away to reveal the exaggerated indentation from where the bone shattered as her screams continue to echo throughout the hollow metal room. It takes everything out of Carolyn to force back the impending urge to vomit, she feels Tony adjust his grip to compensate her weight as she staggers and falls to her knees in shock.
With the woman's bat in his hands and unaffected by her agony, the giant looks over the blood stained piece of hickory with score marks clearly identified through the natural wood stain. His lips press tight together, unimpressed, and just as easily as he broke her leg, he snaps the bat clean in two over his knee. The splinters shoot out in a burst, and the wood clatters onto the metal floor next to his feet as both pieces bounce hollowly against the linoleum.
He steps over the woman's writhing body and approaches the crowd of young men who witnessed the display, they all shuffle back in tense and fearful recoil as he slaps his palm against his closed fist, snapping his fingers and creating a tuneless and casual, yet incredibly unsettling rhythm.
In seconds, he has demonstrated with ruthless calculation that he is the most dangerous person in the room.
"Evening boys," His voice is hard and thick; a low tone that's almost malicious, sharp like the claws of an animal he resembles and with mock pleasantry, he opens his arms to motion to the lot, "Any of you seen Tony?"
Vinny stands silent within the few moments of Mr. Valentine disappearing through the partially open door on the other side of the cafeteria's balcony, the young Triggerman finds himself stepping towards the door like he's battling an urge to follow right after him, but he can't just leave Dino here by himself. Who knows what this jerk could get up to?
"Great, now that he's gone you can let me off the hook, right?" Dino is pallid with fear as he looks up to Vinny, "I didn't do nothing wrong, you know that, I was just actin' tough so the boys wouldn't hurt me. You know how it is!"
Now that he's not trying to be his friend, Vinny finds that he doesn't have to choke down his anger towards this bastard. He makes his intentions known right off the bat by spinning back around and kicking Dino right in the gut, sending the drone to his knees with a gasp and sputtering coughs.
"Shut your goddamn trap, Dino, I ain't lettin' you off!" Vinny snaps at him, reaching down to grab the cuffs he dropped and use them to lock both of his hands behind his back, "Get up, come on!"
With Dino quickly scrambling to his feet as well as a john can with his hands cuffed, Vinny begins to lead him back up the stairs towards the overseer's office, Dino is curled in and limping the entire way, looking up to see the door and terminal much to his confusion and sudden alarm.
"H-hey, what're you doin'?!" He gasps out.
The second the door is open, Vinny shoves Dino into the office, almost tripping on the outstretched arm of the drone that Mr. Valentine took care of. This time he makes sure to lock the door behind him and resets the password to something Dino doesn't know, and sure as shit wouldn't know, hell he wouldn't care if the bastard ended up rotting in there.
"V-Vinny, come on man! Don't leave me in here, there's a dead body!" He shouts, muffled by the glass of the overseer's window, "Oh god, it's startin' to stink up the joint!"
"Then it's a good thing you're a mouth breather as well as a traitor and a coward, Di," Vinny shouts back, "If shit goes south for your boys, hell, even if it doesn't, you're gonna be up here for a long time. Try not to breathe through your nose too much."
Vinny grins at the startled expression on Dino's face, leaving the drone to stew in his panic as he leaves and starts to walk back down the hall, he keeps his pace slow to really savour the pleads that Dino continues to shout through the glass, apologizing for being an ass, and for telling the drones about the dame, even for cheating at cards, but the excitement is brewing in Vinny's chest, and he practically skips back down the stairs knowing his pop is going to shit his pants with pride.
Of course, then he remembers why Mr. Valentine ran off and then breaks into a run after cursing aloud in a way that would make his pop swat him over the head. He reaches the door on the opposite end of the cafeteria balcony, but sees that the mechanics are smoking and there's a sharp whiff of burnt plastic in the air. The door itself looks like it jerked itself closed with only two or three inches to spare.
Shit, looks like he's going through the dorms.
Skirting back around, he breaks into a run and heads down into the cafeteria through the other doorway, nearly tripping on the stairs and bumping into a table on his way through, but he's in too much of a hurry to care. He's got a bad feeling about what Mr. Valentine heard that made him turn on heel and sprint like that, and he hopes it's got nothing to do with that blonde lady.
He reaches the dorms, ready to excuse himself through a few johns on his way out but there's not a single person in sight, not even as he winds his way through the halls and rooms. They're all missing, and suddenly a feeling of dread passes through him, his pop was fuming when they brought in the dame, he said it was the last straw; they needed to take the drones out now, and now he's afraid that this is the pre-emptive, that he's going to hear the gunfire and screaming at any moment because shits gotten serious now.
Vinny makes it through the rest of the dorms in less than a minute, rushing through towards the Vault lobby to see one of his boy's standing guard next to the door normally opened up to the room leading out to the hall with all the goods. Ricardo "The Kid" spots him coming up and looks relieved beyond words to see him, but it's short lived as he urges him close to speak in confidence.
"We got a real problem, V," His low voice is shaking like he's afraid, all the color in his face has been ghosted off like he was hit with a can of white paint, "Malone's dead."
Vinny stares at him, bewildered, "What do you mean he's dead? What the fuck happened?"
"It's the Boss, the one your pop was tellin' us about, he's back, V, and he shot Malone point blank in front of us, didn't even listen to his fucking rant, just pulled the gun out and blew his brains out," Ricardo reaches down and lifts the lapel of his grey suit, showing off the blood splatter staining the material, "Oh god, and Darla... she tried to hit 'em with that bat of hers and he-he just broke it over his knee like it was made of glass, and he hurt her real bad. Our boys are in there, w-we gotta do something."
Vinny closes his eyes for a moment; trembling at the visual his Pop had painted about the Boss. He described him like a stunted Yao Guai on two legs, huge and powerful, but not stupid like Dino, he said his eyes bore into you like he can see right through all the jargon, bullshit, and lies. But he's not like an unhinged animal, he's a true old world mobster, like in the comics, he's a leader, and a fair dealer. If Vinny can show him that he and his boys are worth having around..."Who's all in there with 'em?"
"Everyone, Malone called all of us to face 'em, Lonnie, Isaac, Santora, Pete..." Ricardo grabs Vinny's arm in desperation, "They're all in there with the drones, we gotta get 'em out before they get tossed in with the rest of those assholes."
Vinny shakes his head, looking at Ricardo with the resolve that he knows what they need to do, "We can't take off, not now. It's all or nothing now, Kid, and if we wanna prove ourselves to the Triggermen, and to the head honcho himself, we gotta stick with the plan."
"Our plan is suicide!" Ricardo insists, "If we make the wrong move, they'll kill all of us!"
"And if we make the right one, they'll welcome us with open arms," Vinny reaches out and grabs the back of Ricardo's neck, shaking him a little to get his point across, "A family, Kid, a home. And these guys ain't like traders or settlers, they take care of their own, they're loyal and fair. We won't have to worry about being tossed out, because family takes care of family, we all take care of each other. You're my brother, and soon you'll be theirs too. Don't you want that?"
Ricardo stares back at him, visibly trying to contain his emotions, and nods, "I want that more than anything, we all do..."
"Then we're gonna fight for it," Vinny grins, "You with me?"
Reassured, and suddenly brimming with determination, Ricardo cocks the chamber of his SMG, "I'm with you, V, let's light 'em up."
"Any of you seen Tony?"
The moment he mentions his name, Carolyn can feel Tony tense up, his grip on her arm tightens, and it's then that she realizes that this man, this giant is the nameless reason they're all so uneasy, why they're so desperate to take care of whatever's amok in this Vault, why they needed to do it before he came back. This must be their boss, their real boss, not the one these younger men followed, but the one that they're terrified of, and for a reason she can't quite place... she feels like she knows him.
It's impossible, but this man holds a firm resemblance to the head of the family she used to work for, even his attitude and stature are similar. There's no way that this man can be the real Giovanni DiAngelo, not from the same time as her, there couldn't have been the cryo-chambers in his vault like the one she crawled out of, he wouldn't have done anything that dangerous, not to risk his family. Giovanni's family was everything to him, everything he did was to protect them... he wouldn't. Not even in desperation.
Suddenly Tony gently lets her go, she looks up at him, concerned, but he only gives her a light reassuring nod that echoes the smile accompanying it in the dark. It doesn't comfort her. In fact, she turns to look at the rest of the Triggermen who don't seem to be following after; in fact, they all have an air of remorse, helpless scowls cross their faces before they duck their heads without any argument.
Its wordless acceptance that he intends to put himself at risk foremost before any of them, including a woman he barely knows.
Tony straightens himself out, brushing dust from his shirt before he takes a steadying breath and walks out to face the giant, and when he speaks, he doesn't try to hide the defeat in his voice, it's difficult to hear knowing what he's about to jeopardize, "It's all on me, Boss."
The giant turns to look at Tony as he seems to appear from the dark, surprised to see him, but studying in consideration as he takes a step away from the crowd and halfway circles the other man to put his back towards the entrance, "When you say it's all you, I hope you mean that you're not the one who threw Malone on a pedestal and gave him authority he didn't earn, or deserve."
Tony ducks his head, "No, it ain't like that, Malone pulled the wool over my eyes. My own guys were tellin' me he was up to something but I didn't listen. It ain't anyone else's fault but mine, I didn't see what he was planning and by then it was too late to do anything, we were outnumbered."
Carolyn glances back to see the older Triggermen at her back open their mouths, desperately wanting to protest but knowing better not to interfere. A few of them even take their hats off when they realize, like her, that their leader is taking the blame for the whole operation, sparing them from whatever wrath their Boss wants to ensue.
Not like the group of young men, however, a single solitary voice pipes up in his total outrage as he elbows his way through the others, "That's bullshit!"
The Boss turns with a high and curious brow to watch as the young men fearfully part to let the kid through, eager not to be involved, and allowing him to shakily stand his ground almost toe to toe with the giant, Carolyn feels her anxiety skyrocket when she realizes it's Tony's son.
His face is drained of colour, obviously terrified, but not unwilling to stand his ground as he points to the rotund dead body behind him, "It's this asshole Malone's fault, sir. He's the one who wanted to take over, he's the one who got us to raid up all these settlements, told us to do all kinds of crazy shit to prove that we're worth being called a Triggerman, some of us killed those poor bastards for trying to fight back, and the damned raiders kept coming around, it ain't Tony's fault, Malone had 'em outnumbered, we had to give those bastards Corvega!"
"Vinny!" Tony snaps, as if he'd been ready to burst the moment his son spoke up, the young man swivels his head over to his father, eyes wide, but his expression is rebellious.
"Who's gonna tell 'em, Pop?!" Vinny snaps, "Ain't nobody gonna tell 'em about all the shit we went through?"
At that very moment Carolyn is expecting the Giovanni look-a-like to strike him down, but he's only watching Vinny with a thoughtful and interested expression hidden within the glower, intent on listening to this young boy as he continues.
"What about all the guys he had killed, about all that talk about betraying the Boss, what about the detective, Pop?" Vinny urges, "What about the dame?"
"Vinny," Tony's voice is on the edge of a desperate plea, but he stops when the Boss holds up a hand, his thick brow furrowed with confusion as he addresses the young man.
"Slow down, kid," He orders firmly, "What the hell are you talkin' about?"
Vinny is shaking, rambling, "Look, sir, my pop didn't have nothing to do with it. Me and my boy's were tryin' to help him, we decided enough was enough, we weren't gonna follow Malone no more. Not after all the shit he pulled, we had a plan, y'know? After they got the dame out, we were gonna turn on the lot of 'em and take 'em all out before they knew what color their shit would be."
The group of young men suddenly shuffle with disordinance, some very shocked, and others immediately afraid or angry, and then one shouts out from the crowd, older, but not by much, "Vinny, what the hell man, you were gonna wack us?!"
"You jack-offs wanted to follow Malone so bad, you beat a farmer to death when he ain't done nothing wrong!" Vinny snaps back, "That ain't what the Triggermen are about, you ain't no better than the damn muties!"
"Fuck, Vin, seriously?!" Another shouts, "You rat, we were brothers!"
"None of my brothers did half the shit you bozos did!"
The crowd begins to roar with outrage, and suddenly Vinny is nailed on the cheek by a fist sized piece of rubble that sends him staggering backwards, Tony lurches forward to grab him and that's when Carolyn hears a growl from behind her, and turns to watch one of the Triggermen spring up from where he sat, "Oh hell no."
The others can't stop him, and he ignores their hisses to get his ass back into cover, Carolyn plasters herself against the wall as two more leap up to follow after and she's unsure if they mean to stop or join him, but it prompts another to snap, "Hey, idiots! Shit!"
Suddenly the rest of the Triggermen swarm and a clamour of shouting erupts in the lobby that she can't see through the chaos of moving figures, she's immediately grabbed by a man in a light tan suit and black fedora, speaking to her calmly through the noise, "We gotta go."
"I can't," Carolyn pants, her panic making her scattershot, "I can't run anymore."
"We can't risk keepin' you here. I'll help you, come on," He pulls her arm over his shoulder and hoists her to her feet, but the pull and the angle tears something on her back and she cries out against the raw pain. Before she can protest, the man pulls her along and they turn back the way they came, deeper within the vault after being so close to the entrance.
"W-wait, where are we going?" Carolyn gasps, trying to keep up.
"Far enough away from the damn riot that we can figure out what to do with you next, wasn't planning on the Boss or a mob of angry johns bein' between us and the exit," He pants, encumbered by the extra weight, "Name's Frankie by the way."
As they turn the corner into the next adjacent room, wide with storage boxes leading directly to the stairs back towards the construction zone, the echoes of the riot are suddenly muted by an explosive barrage of firepower. Both Carolyn and Frankie instinctively fall to their knees as though the bullets were being fired directly over their heads, but only she lets out a yelp of surprise.
In moments it's quiet, eerily so, given the riot could be heard at their back and through to the next room. Frankie turns to look back from where they came, "Christ, what the hell was that?!"
Before either of them could get back to their feet, they hear someone coming up the stairs in front of them, from the direction of the construction zone.
"Hold up," Frankie helps her into cover behind one of the metal crates so he can draw his weapon, "Stay low. Don't make a sound."
Carolyn nods shakily, on her hands and knees with her eyes around the crate to watch as Frankie stands with his large rifle pointed to the bright and open frame of the doorway. It takes only seconds before the figure comes into view, and the moment he does she can see two glowing yellow eyes peering out through the shadows of his form and her relief is practically immediate.
Frankie's voice is cool and cautious as he speaks, his gun at eye level with the robotic man that helped her escape the overseers office, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold it right there."
The man elicits a sigh, raising his hands, "Figures I'd run into you of all people."
"I should say the same," Frankie replies, "I thought they went and shot you down after you decided to play hero for our damsel in distress."
"Well, someone had to."
"Oh, go to hell, Valentine."
Carolyn blinks a little dumbly, Valentine...?
Her mind takes a moment to process, staring at the figure, the way he's standing, the expression in his face, his demeanour, his voice...The realization hits her and she suddenly gasps, pulling herself back behind cover and totally out of view as a surge of fear and anxiety shoots through her like a cold and unforgiving strike of lightening, worsening her exhausting panic and causing her to hyperventilate through her fingers in an attempt to mask the sounds of her haggard breathing.
There was something in the expression on his face back in the Overseers Office, the way he reacted when he heard her call him 'Val', but she'd quickly dismissed it, thinking fear and desperation had somehow twisted her perception to make him look and sound like the one person she needed the most, the one person that she could bare to think about to bring her comfort and courage. It's not possible... out of everyone in this world, there's no way that he could have made it through somehow, even being the person that he is, she must be going crazy, crazy with grief, with sorrow, with fear...
"How the hell did you get out of that office?" Frankie suddenly demands, breaking her from her own mind to tune back into the conversation.
"Guess you could say I had a man on the inside, decided to leave the door unlocked for me. Funny none of you thought to lend the same courtesy, given we're all on the same side and all," Valentine responds.
Frankie snorts, "None of us wanted to risk you going AWOL and stirring up the vault some more, safer to leave you in there while we got shit sorted out."
"Well from the sounds of it, you've mucked up all by yourselves," Valentine observes, "You running from the riot?"
"You make a habit of thinking so little of a guy tryin' to do the right thing?" Frankie's shoes grind on fractions of dirt under his feet as he turns and approaches where Carolyn is still hiding, "You high-horse dicks are all the same."
Carolyn jolts as Frankie comes into view and holds a hand out to her; she gently reaches up and takes it despite her hand being moist with the condensation of her hyperventilation. He doesn't seem to notice it as pulls her upright, and it's quickly out of her mind, a silly thing to be worried about, as she looks over and locks eyes with the mechanical man. The second he can see her and realizes who she is, his expression quickly turns from a smooth composure to surprise and Carolyn can't help feeling her heart jump into her throat, her own thoughts still so fresh in her mind.
Frankie supports her enough to let her take a seat on top of one of the crates, she moves almost totally mechanically, her body on auto-pilot as she quietly watches the man named for someone she knows has been dead for a very long time, despite her wishing desperately that it wasn't so.
Frankie motions to her, "We're running from the riot."
Valentine very swiftly ignores Frankie, much to the gangster's immediate annoyance, and approaches Carolyn with a noticeable limp, kneeling down on a crate at her side, his yellow eyes glow quite bright in the dim atmosphere which makes them a little hard to look at.
He looks concerned, most likely due to the way in which he helped her escape, there was no real way him knowing if she'd made it to safety, "How you doin', you alright?"
Carolyn nods, she's still shaking, brimming with anxiety and panic as her arms wrap firmly around herself, she's sore, mostly from the pain in her back and her stomach is wound so tightly she may throw up, but his presence gives her a sense of comfort, even though she knows in her heart that it's false.
"These toughs didn't give you a hard time, did they?" He asks while smiling gently, "Can't imagine their manners are much practiced when it comes to dealing with a scared and injured woman."
Carolyn smiles back and ducks her head, only relieved that he didn't end up calling her a 'dame' like the rest of the men in this Vault, especially considering a lot of them probably don't know it's quite derogatory. At least she hopes that they weren't doing it to personally offend her.
Frankie glances down at him and scoffs, holstering his weapon, "Believe it or not, we were on our way to get her out of here before shit hit the fan. Besides, we didn't have nothin' to do with why she got nabbed in the first place."
"Still begs the question as to why," Valentine halfway glances back up at Frankie.
Frankie sighs but it sounds more like an exasperated growl, "It was a stupid fuckin' stunt pulled by these disrespectful punks tryin' to be gangsters and impress their boss, fuckin' morons just signed their own death warrants is what they did, no way the Boss is gonna let 'em off the hook for this, let alone everything else they went and fucked up while they were high on their own fumes."
Carolyn feels her chest grow tight as he speaks, trying to understand, does this mean all of her suffering until this point was because of a group of men trying to impress their boss? ...it's because they wanted to be gangsters? All of her suffering was because of them? Because they didn't know better? Or was it all because they didn't care if someone else got hurt because of them...?
Suddenly she feels sick again, sick with grief and anger, and suddenly so tired. Her jaw sets, new tears brimming in her eyes as an angry thought begins to manifest, if this were pre-war Boston... they all would have learned long before anything bad had happened that they're not the gangsters they want to be, they're not even close, the real gangsters would have taken them out for being so careless. Giovanni would have taken them out himself... but this isn't pre-war Boston anymore, is it? Men like them can run around doing whatever they want and it takes men like Tony, like Frankie, and Valentine to risk their lives in order to set things right. How is any of that okay?
"Ah... shit," Frankie suddenly clears his throat, noticing the tears on Carolyn's face, "Look, Miss, I didn't mean..."
"Like I said," Valentine interrupts, "You lot have no clue."
Carolyn glances up to see Valentine holding out his hand to Frankie, flickering his fingers with insistence and the man sighs with a heave, begrudgingly taking the handkerchief from his breast pocket and handing it over. Valentine then turns to Carolyn and offers it to her, its light brown to contrast against Frankie's suit, and it looks a lot like the color of her old quilt that she had only recently taken out of storage to combat the coming winter months. It makes her heart ache, but she accepts it nevertheless and uses it to wipe the loose tears from her cheeks, sniffling and winding it around her fingers as she spots the grime that had come off of her face, oh god she must be so filthy.
After giving her a moment, Valentine then asks her, "Do you remember what happened before you woke up here?"
She gently clears her throat, "Vinny mentioned the raiders at Corvega, they were the ones that took me, I managed to get out, but I didn't get far, I... don't remember anything after that."
"Sounds about right," Valentine sighs, "Pay a bunch of low-life's to do a random kidnapping so this lot doesn't have to get their hands dirty."
Frankie growls, "They didn't just pay 'em, the idiots gave 'em Corvega. It was one of our main bases of operation. Scrap and salvage. Real valuable source of income, but the raiders had no idea what to do with all of it, because all they care about is chems, so they started looting like all the rest. Then we lost one of our main income sources and Malone resolved in fucking stealing it from settlements and caravans. The Boss did right to blow the assholes brains out, but now we're all fucked too because we let it happen and the Boss ain't gonna let us off easy."
Frankie then points to Carolyn, "And with you still in here, it'll be a double ass kickin', stealing and looting are one thing, but kidnapping? Especially kidnapping a woman like she was some kind of prize? God help us."
"So, you weren't actually trying to help her?" Valentine inquires venomously, "You lot were just trying to save your own asses from a worse punishment, is that right?"
"Fuck off; of course we were tryin' to help her," Frankie snaps, "Look, she didn't have nothin' to do with what Malone pulled, the Boss knows that, so he won't hurt her, you don't have to fuckin' worry about it. We'll lay low, wait for him to settle this fuckin' coup that's it. You'll both get off scot free, and we won't be your fuckin' problem anymore."
"Well, I appreciate the sentiment," Valentine remarks, "but are you willing to bet on the odds your people manage to take back control? Because there's only one way out of this hole, and that's through the front door, between that, is a mob that may or may not be friendly when we decide to make a break for it."
Frankie scoffs, "Malone's breathing through a new hole in his head, there's no one left but his Drones, and they can't remember to wipe their asses without someone tellin' 'em to. The Boss can take care of it."
Valentine suddenly frowns, "Hold up, Malone's dead?" He asks, "What about his girl, Darla?"
"She's fine, but the Boss shattered her leg like an old piece of wood," Frankie grins, "She ain't going no-where. You can pick her up on your way out if you still feel like bringin' her back to her folks after she beat your ass in like an old trash bin."
Carolyn braces herself against the clear and very recent memory of watching the giant break the woman's leg like it was nothing, hearing the sound of the bone shattering, and the shape it left when he took his boot away. She has to look away from Frankie as he's apparently very pleased that it happened and her eyes stop at Valentine's lap, where one of his hands sit balled into a tightly wound fist.
"This the same Boss you're so sure isn't going to treat our kidnapee the same way?" Valentine sounds nonchalant despite his rigid form.
"He only did that because she came at him with her bat after he shot Malone," Frankie shrugs, the notion making perfect sense to him, "Besides, she ain't even dead."
Valentine almost growls, "You think that just because she survived-"
"No, he's right."
Both men look directly at Carolyn as she suddenly interrupts to agree with what Frankie had said, she feels like her head is buzzing because it suddenly makes so much sense to her, "He needed to take back control, he needed... to show them that he's the one in charge, and he only hurt the woman when she attacked him. I don't think he can be considered as thoroughly kind, but... he clearly has morals. I don't think that he's not going to hurt me or you, we're just victims, and he'll know that."
Valentine studies her for a moment in consideration, a much different look that the gentle one he offered only moments ago. It's like he's searching for something in her face that lets on to a bigger picture, "You sound awful sure about that."
"I know his type," She states, suddenly feeling a little small under his intense gaze, but she doesn't look away, she has nothing to hide if that's what he's looking for.
It ends up being a solid few moments of tense eye contact which is only interrupted by Frankie nudging Valentine on the shoulder to breaking the gaze, she's not totally sure if it was on purpose or not, because he doesn't make a deal out of mentioning it. Though she feels a little embarrassed and curious of the metal mans fixation on what she said.
"You heard the lady, Valentine," Frankie says, "looks like we're stayin' put, you in or not?"
"Course I am," Valentine pulls his arm away, "Not much of a choice, is there?"
It's all gone to hell.
The plan had been less than solid, sure, it was forged mostly out of hope or trust in the prospect of some kind of faith, but part of Tony figured that he'd invested a lot in the idea of divine intervention, especially considering some of the shit he's seen while working under Hank.
Well, it all fell right out of his hopeful ass the second he saw Hank take out Malone, the only thing he could do, the only thing he could think of to do was to own it. Own it, save his men, and hope to God that his Boss could see through all the bullshit because that man knows more than he's ever let on and he trusts him with his life because of that simple fact.
But Vinny... he wasn't supposed to intervene. He wasn't supposed to own up to everything, and Tony never planned on it until he could get Hank alone to properly explain what had happened and why. He had yet to even bring up the detective, Miss. Carolyn, or Corvega, there was too much going on for that, he didn't want to overwhelm the Boss with too much information, but Vinny couldn't seem to stop talking, as much as Tony urged him to stop.
Suddenly everyone was swarming, one idiot hit Vinny with a rock, and all his Triggermen started to flood out to join the feud. Darla, even in her panicked and injured state, knew to drag herself out of the way and around a stack of crates. At his side, Hank backed up in sync to gain distance, even someone as strong as him knew better than to throw himself in the middle of it, he'd wait for it to die down before even trying to intervene. The riot soon turned violent and unhinged in moments and all Tony could think of to do was get Vinny out of there.
The boy is lighter than his suit makes him look, and with Tony's strength, he hauls him right out of the crowd before any of the others could get a hit, but his voice suddenly rings out like he had no idea he was being dragged right out of the fight, or that the gash on his cheek was bleeding down to the collar around his neck.
"NOW!" He barks, "LIGHT 'EM UP, BOYS!"
Within the clamouring crowd, a sudden sporadic barrage of gunfire erupts followed by indistinct shouts and cries of pain, it sounds like it's coming from everywhere. Bodies start immediately hitting the floor everyone else scrambling to try and find cover, but after the final few shots the room goes totally silent. Men stand back against the walls and around bits of cover, less than half of the original riot are left standing and as Tony searches their faces, he realises they're all his Triggermen. All, that is, except five young men standing in the middle of a pile of a dozen bodies, but he recognizes them too because they're all Vinny's Boys.
His best friend, Ricardo "The Kid" is leading the rest with his SMG, followed by Lonnie, "Two Shot" Isaac, Pete, and "Side-Eye" Santora. These are the kids Tony had made responsible for light recon and Drone infiltration as they had switched sides with Vinny when the dispute between the Drone's and Triggermen really hit its peak. These kids, like Vinny, were orphans that grew up in the streets as scavvers when Malone found them and brought them in for more cannon fodder, even though they're all less than twenty. These kids just gunned down the entire crowd of Drone's in the middle of a riot, sparing the Triggermen and ending the feud by themselves. Tony has no words, not even as Vinny pulls himself from the grip on him that went lax moments ago. His kid, the one he'd promised to look after not matter what, turns to look at him with a bright grin across his face.
"Don't worry about it, Pop," He assures him, "I promised I'd take care of it, remember?"