Chapter Twenty-Five: Touring the Town
The mutant pinned him down, trying to force him into a blood-soaked sack. He thrashed, screaming as he tore at its hands, doing everything he could to break free - but he was too weak and his efforts only made it angrier. It began to shake him.
"Wake up Burke!" it roared. "You're only dreaming!"
Helpless and terrified, he squeezed his eyes shut and projected his voice into an ear-splitting screech, certain that he was going to die.
Wood crashed nearby and a raspy voice cried "What's going on in here? What's wrong with the kid?"
"He's having a night terror or something!" A voice gritted - but this one sounded human. Burke's eyes snapped open and he found not a mutant standing over him but MacCready.
The man's eyes were wide and his hat gone, revealing a head of messy brown hair. He was pale, looking as alarmed as the Squire felt. Burke just stared up at him, his breathing still wild and heart hammering, pumping adrenaline through his veins.
"You awake? You with us?" MacCready asked, loosening his tight grip on Burke's shoulders, which was when he realised that he was still gripping the mercenary's arms, which were bleeding from the numerous scratches inflicted upon them.
The second Burke released him, MacCready stepped back and observed the cuts himself.
Still shaking, Burke sat up and ran his hands over over his face, feeling the cold sweat that slicked his skin. The nightmare had been vivid, even worse than the ones that had come before…
...and this time, neither Danse or Nora were there to assuage the fear, to tell him that everything was going to be alright.
Because it wasn't going to be alright.
Danse was dead.
Nora was probably dead, too.
And it was all his fault for being a stupid kid. For not being strong enough to protect them or himself.
I'm useless…
A fresh wave of grief washed over him and he wanted to scream, but his throat was raw and the whine that escaped was as small and pathetic as he was.
As he began to weep a sharp rapping sounded upon the door, prompting MacCready and the ghoul to turn around.
Stan Slavin, Marowski's bodyguard, was standing at the threshold of the room, a pistol in one hand.
"Everything okay in here?" he grunted. "We could hear the screamin' from Mister Marowski's office, and other guests are complainin'."
"Yeah, we're fine." MacCready replied, already moving to close the door. "Nothing to worry about."
"So long as there ain't no more screaming, there won't be." Stan grunted, the words hanging ominously as he turned and stepped back into the hallway.
Mac exhaled heavily before turning back to the room.
Burke had finally calmed himself, wiping away his tears away on the sheets. He had scooted closer to the wall and was watching the ghoul known as 'Vault-Tec' with the same ill-veiled suspicion and fear that he had the day before.
Vault-Tec cleared his throat as MacCready moved back to his side, gesturing at where a large wet patch was darkening the sheets. "Gonna need to get those washed before he can sleep on that bed again. Could probably do with turning the mattress over, too."
At the ghoul's words Burke glanced down at the sheets and cringed, bowing his head in shame.
"Ugh… great…" MacCready muttered, running a hand through his hair.
"If you want I can take care of the sheets," the ghoul said quickly, glancing between Burke and MacCready. "If you just help me flip the mattress, I can take care of the rest. He can even go change in my room now, if he wants."
"Sounds like a plan," Mac agreed, striding across the room to where a pile of clothes sat upon a dresser. When he returned to Burke, the boy noted that most of the clothes were new - but Danse's bomber jacket was folded at the bottom. "Most of your clothes were ruined, so Daisy dropped some around for you."
MacCready had barely extended the clothes towards him before Burke snatched them away, clutching them close to his chest. Mac raised an eyebrow but said nothing, instead retrieving a pair of boots from the foot of the bed and placing them beside the boy's feet as he swung his legs out from beneath the covers. "Trust me, there's worse than splinters on the floor here," he commented. "Get those on and follow me. It's about time you got dressed."
Still watching the ghoul from the corner of his eye, Burke pulled on the boots and followed MacCready as he left the room. He made sure to give the abomination a wide berth as he passed.
They emerged into a dimly lit hallway with doors flanking the walls on either side. MacCready led him to one end of the corridor where a cracked window gave an uninspiring view of an alleyway. The door on the right-hand side was slightly ajar and he pushed it open, gesturing for Burke to step inside.
"Alright, you get washed and dressed and we'll head over to Daisy's for breakfast. Sound good?"
Burke didn't feel hungry but he nodded all the same, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. He took a moment to glance around. He wasn't sure what he had expected to find in the ghoul's room, but a tidy living space had not been it.
A made bed was set against one wall with an end table beside it, holding a lamp, a can of purified water and a lone silver picture frame. As he drew closer, he caught sight of the faded black and white photograph contained within.
A young man was stood behind a bench upon which an elderly couple sat, surrounded by leafy foliage the likes of which he had never seen. The young man was wearing a coat and hat, similar to those that the ghoul had been wearing.
He turned slowly to look around the rest of the room, taking in a small table set for one tucked into a corner and various pieces of battered furniture. Various ornaments and plants lined the shelves, polished and kept in good condition.
He moved towards a sink in a corner, setting his clothes down on the dresser beside it. A clean mirror was set over the basin and as the water began to run, he glanced up at his reflection.
His face was pale, the freckles across his nose and cheeks stark against his skin. Dark shadows haunted his eyes, his copper hair was a tousled mess and his lips were pulled into a taut, unhappy line.
He broke eye contact with the boy in the mirror and began to wash up.
The more Burke saw of Goodneighbor, the less he liked it. The streets were filthy and loud, the pavements clogged with garbage, chem-addicts and drifters alike. Many of the people wore manic smiles and laughed too loud, their eyes glazed as they shambled around like ferals.
For all he knew, the ghouls among them could be ferals, waiting for the right moment to strike.
He lowered his eyes when the ghoul he'd been scrutinising turned around, glaring instead at the broken glass and empty jet inhalers that crunched underfoot. He could only imagine the horror on Lancer-Captain Kells' and his teachers faces if they knew he was surrounded by ghouls and chem-heads.
He also thought of his parents, Nora, and Danse.
He buried his chin in the jacket's woolly lining, pushing the thoughts away.
It was no good crying when nobody cared.
I've got to toughen up if I'm going to survive out here…
He followed MacCready down a narrow alleyway, following a steady flow of ghouls and people into an enclosed courtyard beyond, doing his best not to make eye-contact with or brush against any of them.
When they were free from the crush, MacCready slowed to a halt and caught his eye, nodding towards a line of barricades with a single blue door at the centre. "That's where you came into town," he said, leading the way along a row of shops. "The mutant hound pinned you just beyond that wall before I shot it. You're welcome for that, by the way."
"...You shot it?" the words came out hoarse and raspy, causing Burke to wince.
"Yep. I'm a sniper - the best sniper I've ever met, if I do say so myself," he smiled, his chest swelling with pride. "Hancock hired me to keep an eye on the road and shoot anything big, green and ugly that approached the gate."
Burke nodded but said nothing, his eyes downcast and hands buried in his pockets.
He only glanced up when MacCready stopped again, this time at the threshold of a large storefront which seemed to span across two shops. The words 'DAISY'S DISCOUNTS' was scrawled in red paint over the doorway, and when he glanced inside, it was to find the interior crowded by shelves, groaning under the weight of the goods they held.
"C'mon," MacCready smiled, stepping inside. "This is the best place to buy food and basic supplies in Goodneighbor."
After a moment Burke followed, encouraged as much by curiosity as the dark glare of a ghoul who was lounging on a bench outside.
The shop was divided into two rooms, the first dominated by a large counter and rows of shelves whilst the second was a dining room furnished with mismatched tables and chairs. A number of the seats were already occupied, the patrons either eating or holding hushed conversations.
Burke followed MacCready to where he was studying shelves of food. Most of the boxes were familiar brands, such as Sugar Bombs, Fancy Lad's Snack Cakes and Cram, but there were also 'new' ones too, such as something called 'Funnel Cake,' cotton candy bites, a new drink called VIM! and even some new flavours of Nuka-Cola the likes of which he had never seen.
He gazed curiously at a glowing orange bottle called 'Nuka-Victory!' and wondered why he had never seen any in the Brotherhood's supply depot.
"Sugar Bombs and regular Nuka-Cola sound good to you?" MacCready asked, already pulling a cereal box from the shelf. He handed it to Burke and the Squire frowned, giving it a shake. It felt lighter than the boxes available from the Prydwen's commissary, and judging by the sound when he shook it, it was only half full.
"Yeah. Most of the stores in Goodneighbor take half the packet out to sell in another box, and mix the rest with all kinds of crap to make it seem fuller." MacCready said with a shrug. "Pro-tip: Only buy food from Daisy or the Third Rail… or it might not even be food you're eating."
As he spoke MacCready handed Burke a second packet, before retrieving two bottles of Nuka-Cola and one of brahmin milk. Carrying his purchases in both arms, MacCready led the way to the counter and set the bottles upon it. Burke followed suit, placing the boxes on the countertop when a grey blur leaped onto the surface beside them.
He recoiled with a gasp - only to realise that it wasn't some ghoul lunging to grab him but a cat. A sleek, silver tabby cat with large green eyes.
"This is Silver," MacCready smirked, reaching up to scratch the cat behind its ear. "You should feel honoured. It's not every day she's out here to greet the customers."
The cat began to purr, leaning into his touch as Burke slowly approached. Tentatively he reached out, a faint smile touching his lips when the feline almost immediately turned away from MacCready to butt its head against his fingers, blinking at him slowly.
"She's named after a hero you know," MacCready said, hitting a bell on the counter. "The Silver Shroud! You should've seen the look on Nora's face when she heard…" he trailed off, the mirth fading from his voice.
Burke just focused on Silver, trying to pretend that MacCready hadn't spoken. He recalled Nora's terrible suggestion to name Grogcat 'The Silver Meowd' and swallowed thickly.
"Well, well," a raspy voice called, causing both of them to look up. "Would you look at what the cat dragged in!"
Burke backpedaled halfway across the store as a ghoul emerged from a backroom, dusting her hands off on her suit. She wasn't like any ghoul he had seen before, feral or otherwise.
For one thing, this ghoul had hair. More hair than he had seen on most wastelanders, styled atop her head into a neat bun. She also appeared to be wearing makeup, lips painted over the line of her mouth which had curved into a smile as she glanced between him and MacCready.
He didn't like it. It reminded him of the 'synth detective' back in Diamond City and beneath her makeup, her hair and her smiles, she was still a ghoul. An abomination that would someday turn on and savage those around her.
"Uh… Burke? Where are you going?" MacCready frowned, raising an eyebrow as he watched him edge closer to the door.
Burke bit his lip, glancing pointedly between MacCready and the ghoul. He didn't want to voice the thought aloud, in case the ghoul turned feral in a fit of rage.
Not that she seemed angry. If anything, she seemed amused. "What's the matter, kid? Can't handle a friendly face?" she teased, leaning on the counter.
"Sorry about this Daisy," MacCready sighed, turning back to face her. "He's kind of not used to ghouls, and Vault-Tec pretended to be a feral when he woke up…"
"He did what now?" Daisy frowned, cocking a non-existent eyebrow. "And he calls me and Kent crazy? Sheesh." As she spoke Daisy began tapping away at the cash register. "Renting bowls and spoons too?"
"Yep."
"Then that's thirty-five caps."
"Did I remember to tell you how cute you look today?" MacCready smirked, turning on his boyish charm. "Because you're definitely the cutest ghoul in the Commonwealth…"
"Compliments will get you nowhere MacCready," Daisy grinned, her black eyes sparkling. "So that'll be thirty caps."
"Thanks, Daisy. You're a doll!" As MacCready straightened up and began fishing caps from an inside pocket, Silver hopped off the counter to wrap herself around Burke's legs, mewling for attention.
"Y'know," Daisy drawled, watching as the Squire crouched down to fuss the cat. "Some parts arrived for Kent earlier today. If you'd be willing to take 'em to the Memory Den for me, I could knock another five caps off for you."
"Anything for you, Daisy!"
"Oh fine, I'll make it six!" The ghoul chuckled, waving him away. "See if you can't get Silver to follow you there as well. This is the first day she's shown her face in a week, and Irma says Kent's been worried sick."
"Deliver parts and cat to Kent after breakfast. Got it." Mac nodded, grabbing the bowls and spoons from further along the counter, before turning to face the Squire. "Hey, Burke. A little help?"
The Squire chewed his lip, considering Daisy for a while before he rose to his feet and moved towards MacCready, taking the bowls from his hands.
"Okay, go and get us a table and I'll be right with ya."
Only too happy to put some distance between himself and the ghoul, Burke made his way into the dining area and chose a table by the windows. Not only was it at a safe distance from the other patrons, but it allowed him a good view of the area outside and, most importantly, the entrance.
After a few moments MacCready joined him, depositing their cereal and drinks on the table.
"So," he began, opening his cereal and emptying the box into his bowl. "Not a fan of ghouls, are ya?"
Burke shook his head, pouring himself a small portion from his own box.
"Any particular reason for that?" Mac asked, before shovelling cereal into his mouth and chomping loudly.
Burke glanced up at him, his green eyes narrowed and assessing before he sat back, returning his eyes to the street. "They're dangerous," he mumbled. "All ghouls turn feral in the end. They're just ticking time bombs that need to be chased off or eradicated before they can hurt anyone."
MacCready frowned. "You really believe that?"
"I've seen what they can do to people," Burke replied darkly. "Sometimes soldiers come back seriously injured, or dead because of feral ghouls. So what chance would civilians have against them if they started turning in the settlements?"
A shadow passed over MacCready's eyes and he was silent for a while, stirring the cereal around his bowl. Then he said; "so what about synths?"
"They need to be eradicated" Burke replied without hesitation. "They're even worse than ghouls, hiding in plain sight."
"Yeah, I'm with you on the human-synths needing to go," MacCready began, meeting the Squire's gaze, "but how do you tell them apart from the humans?"
"You can't." Burke shrugged.
"So does that mean you kill an entire settlement? Because one person in there might turn?"
"No," Burke replied with a scowl. "You might kill civilians too."
"Okay, so what if I told you the same rules you apply to synths and humans should apply to ghouls?" MacCready asked. "Heck, it's even easier because you can tell ferals and non-ferals apart, right?"
"There's a difference," the Squire scowled, leaning forwards in his seat. "If you attacked an entire settlement for one synth without finding out who it was, you'd kill innocents!"
"And what makes someone innocent?" MacCready asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Well… Like… Someone who doesn't hurt other people for a living," Burke replied, looking flustered. "Like farmers or traders and things."
"Okay," MacCready nodded. "So would you say an honest shop-owner is an innocent?"
Burke glared. "When they're human."
MacCready bit back a sigh. "Ghouls were human once Burke, and ghouls like Daisy have kept their humanity better than most."
"It doesn't change what she is!" Burke replied tartly. "It doesn't change what she'll become!"
"So, can you tell me when she'll turn feral?" MacCready asked hardening his gaze. "Can you tell me when any of them will turn?"
"No, but that's the point!" Burke insisted. "You don't know when they'll turn, so it's better to chase them off- or better yet, kill them before they can hurt anyone!"
"Alright, let me tell you something Burke," MacCready said, leaning forwards across the table. "Daisy has been a ghoul for over two hundred years. In all that time she's never savaged anyone, never gone feral.
"What she has done however is help people. Without her, my son would be dead."
"How?" Burke frowned, looking sceptical.
"She arranged for a caravan to take a cure to him, the only one of its kind, and got it there in time to save his life."
"So what?" Burke snorted, "that's not anything a human couldn't do!"
"It isn't," MacCready agreed. "But most people wouldn't. Some of these ghouls you keep calling abominations? That you keep saying deserve to die because of what radiation did to them? They're better people than we are."
"They're not human," Burke insisted, turning away to glower at his reflection. "And all ghouls turn feral in the end."
"So do most humans these days," MacCready sighed, turning back to his breakfast. "Only difference is, one group can't help it."
They lapsed into an awkward silence, during which Burke glared sullenly out of the windows, keeping his eyes fixed on the barricade door. MacCready made no effort to force a conversation where it wasn't wanted, speaking only to remind the boy to eat.
It was as they were finishing that a grey blur jumped onto the table with a purr. Burke finally glanced up again, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he reached out to pet the cat in greeting.
"You'll need to hold onto her for me," MacCready said, nodding towards the cat when Burke raised an eyebrow at him. "Daisy asked if we could drop Silver off home, along with a few other supplies. You done by the way?"
When Burke nodded Mac stood and took the bowls. "Okay. Secure the cat and I'll grab the supplies. Meet me at the store entrance."
MacCready smirked as he led the way back to Scollay Square, the box of Kent's supplies in his arms and Burke following close behind. He caught sight of passing drifters smirking on more than one occasion as they caught sight of the Squire, and he honestly couldn't blame them.
Burke was a sight to behold, carrying Silver in the too-big jacket, the cat's paws and head poking regally above the zipper as she watched the world go by. Every now and again she'd meow at a friendly drifter she recognised, though Burke would hunch over and walk quicker to discourage them from approaching.
They finally reached the entrance of The Memory Den and Mac halted outside, gesturing for Burke to open the doors. Supporting the cat with one arm, he pushed one of them open with his free hand, a blast of warm, perfume-scented air washing over him as he did so.
They entered a dimly lit hallway with a high ceiling, the walls bedecked with ancient baroque wallpaper in a deep crimson. As Burke hesitated MacCready took the lead once more, leading him past a dark and empty booth into a large room.
Burke stopped on the threshold, staring with his mouth hanging agape.
Large pods were set in rows across the floor, covered by transparent glass domes with televisions set in the centre of each. Some were occupied, the people inside appearing to sleep whilst the TV screens above them flickered with images. He had never seen technology like it before in the Citadel or aboard the Prydwen.
As MacCready walked ahead of him, Burke moved towards the nearest occupied pod, taking care not to trip over the cables that snaked around it.
A grizzled man was reclining inside, smiling faintly. When Burke glanced up to the television, his eyes widened at the sight of moving pictures playing upon it. The images were a little grainy and the colours slightly off, but he could perceive a dramatic view of the sea, the waves capped in white and coloured molten gold by the rays of a sunset. The scene began to pan around until he was staring at the beaming face of a stranger, framed by wind-tousled hair.
Before he could perceive anything else however, there was a strong waft of floral perfume and a click before the screen went dark, the glass now reflecting a woman with blonde hair styled immaculately atop her head and smiling red lips.
"It's not polite to watch someone else's memories, sugar," she said in a husky voice, leaning against the pod. "You might see something you shouldn't."
"Hey, Burke!" MacCready called from where he was waiting beside a door. "A little help?"
Ducking his head, Burke hurried past the woman and missed the amused smirk as she shook her head. Without being prompted, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, entering a small living area.
His eyes grew wide with wonder.
"Pretty neat, huh?" MacCready grinned as he followed him inside.
Burke didn't answer, too busy taking in the shelves lined with hero and villain action figures, the posters crowding the walls, the shelves overflowing with so many comic books that some had to be stowed away in large boxes on the floor. There were life-sized cardboard cut-outs stood against the walls and a couple of polished display cases which, upon investigation, Burke discovered contained even more hero memorabilia.
Most of the items were Silver Shroud related, but he also saw other superhero merchandise that he wouldn't have even dreamed of, including a life-size, realistic replica of Grognak's axe. He set Silver down on the floor before approaching the case where he practically drooled over its contents.
"Nora helped Kent collect a lot of this," MacCready grunted, hefting the crate he carried onto the nearest free surface. "There's actually a Grognak suit that goes with that axe, y'know? I was kinda tempted to keep it for myself, but Nora's convinced that she'll get Danse to wear… sorry."
He trailed off as Burke turned abruptly from the axe, stalking to the opposite side of the room to where a slightly torn city backdrop partitioned half the room away. Silver slipped around the edge and Burke followed, discovering another surprise in the form of a small radio station concealed behind it.
It was much smaller and simpler than Travis' setup at DCR. There were boxes of holotapes beside the table labelled The Silver Shroud in a flowing script, sorted into chronological order with episode numbers and titles written on each tape. Unlike Burke, Silver had no interest in the tapes, nor in the Silver Shroud outfit that dressed a mannequin with the silver submachine gun grasped in its hands.
He was just reaching out to touch a sleeve when a third set of footsteps entered the room. "M-M-MacCready? Irma said you'd walked in. Is that m-my delivery?"
At the sound of the voice Silver immediately perked up, her tail rising into a crook as she trotted back around the backdrop and out of sight. The stranger gasped. "Silver! There you are! I was w-worried about you!"
"Yup, Daisy asked me and my associate back there to deliver them to you," MacCready replied. "Cat included."
"Your associate?"
At the stranger's prompt, MacCready called out to him. "Hey, Burke! I want you to meet somebody!"
So long as it's not another ghoul… The voice didn't have the raspy quality he associated with ghouls however, so he rounded the backdrop - and froze in place. Because that wasn't a human.
Yet another ghoul stood before him, cuddling Silver in his arms as he stared at the Squire, before offering a shy smile. "Hi there. My n-name's Kent Connolly. Pleased to meet ya."
Burke didn't respond, instead clenching his hands into fists as he looked the ghoul up and down.
Kent was small in stature and, judging from the way he seemed to cringe beneath Burke's silent scrutiny, timid. There was none of the shrewdness that glittered in Daisy's eyes, nor the desolation of Vault-Tec's. Had he been human, Burke might have thought him harmless.
But the burned flesh said otherwise. No matter his demeanour, Kent was still a ghoul and capable of inflicting great harm.
Kent's smile faltered and he lowered the hand he had offered. The room was silent save for the happy purrs of Silver in Kent's arms and the quiet, constant hum of the machines in the other room.
"So, Burke was pretty impressed by your collection." MacCready began in a transparent effort to break the tension.
At once Kent's face lit up and he stood taller, turning to face Burke. "It is pretty n-neat, huh?" he grinned. "I got help from a real life superhero to get m-most of this stuff! You ever heard of 'The Silver Shroud?'"
Before Burke could even consider answering, Kent placed Silver down on the single bed shoved into a corner and walked past him, straight towards the costumed mannequin. "Ya see this?" he asked, turning to face the Squire who was watching him warily, having backed up a few steps to keep a safe distance; not that Kent noticed. "This is the genuine article! The Silver Shroud herself was wearing it when she came to save me from a bunch of bad guys!"
Burke raised an eyebrow and glanced at MacCready, clearly questioning Kent's sanity. MacCready just smiled as he leaned back against a wall, content to watch the conversation.
"Ya don't believe me?" Kent asked, though he didn't seem upset.
"The Silver Shroud isn't real," Burke frowned, finding his voice at last. "He wasn't even real before the bombs."
"No, she wasn't!" Kent agreed, his eyes practically shining. "Before the war, the Shroud was just a symbol of hope. Just a character on the radio who wasn't afraid to fight crime and kill the criminals. But then a few m-months ago, right when the Commonwealth needed a hero the most, she appeared! Wearing this very outfit and wielding this very gun!"
"Why do you keeping saying she? The Shroud's a man." Burke demanded, looking and sounding unconvinced.
"The Shroud might sound like a m-man," Kent grinned, "but nobody's ever pierced the Shroud to know for sure! Anyone can get a voice modulator these days! But me and M-Mac? We're friends with the Shroud! We know the real her!"
"It's true!" MacCready nodded when Burke turned to him with a questioning gaze. "I know a real life superhero! I was part of the rescue team that went to save Kent," he grinned.
"You and that big armoured guy!" Kent nodded before turning back to Burke who was now looking intrigued. "You w-wanna hear about it? It's better than the radio plays and I swear, every word of it is true!"
"We've got plenty of time to kill if you want to hear it," MacCready added, noting the Squire's thoughtful expression.
Finally Burke nodded, deciding that it couldn't hurt to hear a 'real-life superhero' story. Especially if it kept him off Goodneighbor's filthy streets for a little while longer.
"...so now I take her costume every now and again and tinker with it to m-make it better," Kent explained, holding the Shroud's hat towards Burke. "I use a material called ballistic weave. It's really expensive, but w-worth every cap if it helps to keep the Shroud alive."
Burke looked awed as he accepted the fedora, admiring the silver ribbon and carefully sculpted brim. It was a little heavier than he had expected, but when he placed it upon his head, it wasn't uncomfortable.
He rose from his seat at Kent's small dining table to stand in front of a full length mirror on a wall. The hat was a little too big to see from beneath the brim so he set it at a jaunty angle, ignoring MacCready's quiet snort from where he was thumbing through one of Kent's editions of Grognak. The hat did was it was intended to do, casting shadows over his face to shroud his identity from enemies.
"You could try on the coat if you w-want," Kent offered, rising from his seat. "It'll be long and a bit heavy, but it's not often you get to w-wear the coat of a genuine hero!"
Burke hesitated, raising his hands to grasp the lapels of Danse's bomber jacket. He swallowed and shook his head. "No. This jacket belonged to a hero. I don't want another."
Kent smiled and nodded, accepting the hat when Burke handed it back to him.
"So… are you sure you can't tell me the Shroud's real identity?" Burke asked, returning to his seat. "Or the guy in power armour? I mean, I already know who MacCready is, so…"
"Sorry!" Kent interrupted, adopting a serious expression. "It w-would be a big breach of trust if I revealed anyone elses identities! M-Mac chose to tell you he was part of the Shroud's team, but if the others want you to know, they'll tell you themselves. It gets dangerous when people know who you are…" he finished, glancing down and wringing his hands.
A low whistle caught both their attentions and Burke turned to find MacCready looking at his watch, the Grognak comic closed on the table in front of him. "It's about time we head off, Burke. We've been in here a good few hours."
Burke blinked in surprise. He had known they'd been in there a while, but it hadn't felt like a few hours at all. As Mac rose to his feet with a stretch, Kent stepped up beside the Squire, holding a small card towards him.
"Here. This is a genuine Silver Shroud calling card, if you w-want it."
Burke took the card from Kent's withered fingers, studying the printed image of the Shroud at its centre. When he turned it over, it was to find a lipstick kiss on the flipside along with words written in a flowing script.
Justice shall prevail, for I will protect you!
The Silver Shroud
Burke snorted before slipping the card into an inside pocket.
Yeah right. Where was The Silver Shroud during the mutant crisis? Where was she when…?
He shook the thoughts from his head. That's not important. If it's been a few hours, Nora might have arrived…
A knock at the door brought him back to reality. The blonde woman had stepped into the room with a gentle smile, the skirts of her red dress rippling. "Sorry to interrupt but a message arrived from Mayor Hancock for MacCready," she explained. "Mr Valentine has returned and they're waiting for you in the Statehouse."
MacCready made for the door, but the woman cleared her throat and glanced pointedly from him to Burke. "You're not forgetting someone, are you?"
Mac stopped in his tracks, frowning thoughtfully as he turned to face the Squire. "I can't take you with me to this meeting Burke. Would you be alright to stay in your room at the Rexford for a while?"
"Alone?" Burke's eyes grew wide with dread.
"Well not alone… Vault-Tec would be looking out for you, but I can't take you into this meeting with me," MacCready said, rubbing the back of his neck.
"He could stay here if he wants," Kent offered. "I m-mean, I don't have anything going and you can just pick him up w-when you're done? Probably safer than leaving him on his own."
"Is that alright with you, Burke?" Mac asked, glancing at the boy who certainly didn't look like it was okay with him.
But Burke sighed and nodded anyway, returning to his seat at the table where he began to fidget with his charm bracelet.
"Thanks Kent, I owe you one!" Mac called, striding from the room with a wave of his hand.
When MacCready entered the office of the Old Statehouse, Nora wasn't there. Hancock and Fahrenheit were sat upon one couch whilst Nick Valentine sat on the other, hunched over with a cigarette smouldering between his fingers.
The old synth's coat was singed, stained with a mixture of ash and blood. His fedora was pulled down low, shadowing his face so only the dim gold of his eyes could be seen. The glow of the cigarette flared as Nick inhaled, and ice formed in Mac's stomach when he saw the lines etched on the detective's false skin.
There was a flash of steel in his peripheral vision and he turned to see a silver chain swinging from Hancock's fingers, a pair of holotags suspended upon it. The mayor's expression was unreadable, save for the grim line of his mouth as he lowered the chain onto the coffee table between them, setting it down beside a battered laser pistol and a scrap of filthy fabric.
"Take a seat," he ordered, leaning back on his couch as he watched MacCready obey. Once the mercenary was seated beside the detective he caught Valentine's eye and nodded, signalling for the him to begin.
For a long moment the silence remained unbroken. But then Nick exhaled a cloud of smoke and sat up, stubbing out his cigarette in an ashtray.
"I started my search in Boston Common," he began, his voice quiet but carrying easily in the room. "Judging from the two dead behemoths in the park and mutant corpses strewn around, it had seen some of the worst of the fighting.
"I noticed shrapnel as I neared the North-Eastern corner, along with a lot of mutant body parts… There was power armour there, blown to hell and lying in its own blast crater."
MacCready's eyes widened in horror, the air leaving his lungs in an audible hiss. "You don't mean…"
"I don't think she was in it, MacCready," Nick replied, his gold eyes meeting the mercenary's. "But… the news doesn't get any better.
"The fusion core had been detonated to take out a group of mutants judging by the surrounding carnage. Some of the remains were gathered at the wreckage of a barricade, so I climbed through the rubble to see if I could find a trail… and I found this."
He reached for the pistol with his right hand, the metal fingers closing around the grip. He raised it up, indicating the Brotherhood insignia on the barrel.
"It was in an alleyway, next to broken power armour helmet."
"But… there's lots of soldiers around, right?" MacCready interrupted, his voice rising. "It could have been someone else -"
"Easy Mac," Hancock frowned, his eyes glittering from beneath his hat. "Let Nick finish before you start with the questions."
"I investigated the surrounding area," Nick continued, setting the pistol back down upon the table. "There was a mutant hive nearby… it's where I found her holotags, hanging from a meat sack with this inside."
The detective hesitated but a moment before he picked up the scrap of cloth. The bright orange of a Brotherhood flightsuit was still visible where it hadn't been stained with blood.
His hand shaking, MacCready reached for the holotags upon the table. He paid the words and serial numbers no mind, staring only at the small, flickering hologram of Nora. She wore a nervous smile, her eyes reflecting the uncertainty she had felt in her early days within the Brotherhood, something she had confided to him long ago.
Shit.
The hologram blurred and he realised there were tears in his eyes. He bowed his head, hiding beneath the brim of his cap as he wiped them away.
"I entered the hive to see if I could find her… or…" the detective trailed off. He sighed. "It doesn't matter. Shortly after I entered, a Brotherhood patrol stormed the building, shooting anything that moved. I barely made it out in one piece."
The room was quiet until Hancock rose to his feet, his footsteps loud as he walked towards the kitchen counters. MacCready heard the chime of glass, but didn't raise his eyes until Hancock was stood over him, a whiskey tumbler in each hand. Slowly, Mac raised his free hand to take the one offered to him.
"Y'know, when she first walked through the gate, I didn't think we were gonna get along," Hancock began, studying his drink intently. "She was wearing a Brotherhood uniform and had Crew Cut at her shoulder, the pair of 'em scared shitless by every ghoul they met - me included.
"Figured she was just a bigot like the rest of 'em and would pack up and leave. Instead, she sticks around and starts talking to people, ghouls included. Helps ʼem out and beats down the fuckers who needed it. Hell, she even did most of that dressed like the Shroud…"
He chuckled, shaking his head slightly before he raised his whiskey high. "To Nora. Real life superhero and a damn fine troublemaker."
Hancock knocked his whiskey back in a single gulp, but Mac choked when he tried to do the same, his throat burning. By the time he had recovered, Hancock was back in his seat and lighting a cigarette.
"So… what now?" Nick asked, his voice heavy and tired. "What happens to the kid?"
"Depends on what he wants," Hancock shrugged. "He can recuperate in Goodneighbor, or I can send a runner to one of the patrols. Reckon the tin cans will be clanking around Boston for a while yet. Speaking of the kid, how's he been doin', Mac?" he asked, watching as the mercenary raised his eyes from the tags. "He alright?"
"He's been doing better," MacCready said softly. "But when he hears about Nora…"
Silence fell.
"It might be best to send a runner to one of the patrols," Nick said after a while. "At least aboard the Prydwen he'll be around people he knows... The last thing he'll need is to feel alone right now."
Hancock took a long drag of his cigarette, expelling the smoke from his nose cavity before he nodded. "Alright. I'll send someone out first thing in the morning. Where is he, anyway? Ya leave him at the Rexford?"
"No, he's with Kent at the Memory Den," MacCready replied. "They hit it off talking about comic books and… the Shroud."
There was another beat of silence.
"Too bad he'll be returning to the Bigot-hood of Steel," Hancock said eventually, leaning forwards to take hold of the whiskey bottle. "Might've been hope for him after all."
"...How do we tell him?" MacCready asked softly, unable to meet any of their eyes.
"Bring him up to the office tomorrow, Mac," Hancock said as he refilled their tumblers. "We can give him the tags in the morning."
Burke was halfway through a copy of the Unstoppables when there came a sharp rapping upon Kent's door. He jumped in his chair, turning to watch as Kent rose to answer it. His heart sank a little when he caught sight of a ghoul on the other side of the door.
The ghoul was tall and, whilst he wasn't bulky, he was still big enough to be intimidating. Especially when it was coupled with the cool, commanding presence he resonated from across the room. "Sorry to bother you, Kent, but Miss Magnolia's having trouble with her set and Rufus is busy workin' on the city defenses. Would ya mind comin' over and takin' a look?"
"W-well sure, I don't mind," Kent began, "but I promised Mac that I'd keep an eye on Burke here for him."
The ghoul glanced over Kent's hat towards Burke, his gaze sharp and piercing.
Burke quickly looked away.
"You can bring the kid over with you," the ghoul said. "The Rail ain't gonna open for another hour or two, and I'll make sure nobody messes with either of you. But unless you can get over there and take a look, Miss Magnolia ain't gonna be able to perform."
"W-well, I guess it can't hurt," Kent said slowly. "Besides, wouldn't wanna let M-Mags or Charlie down. Is that okay with you?" He added, turning around to face Burke. "You'll get to see the inside of the Third Rail - maybe even hear Magnolia sing!"
Burke didn't really want to go anywhere.
Kent was harmless- even more childish than himself at times. But he could tell with a single glance that the other ghoul was anything but.
He also didn't want to be around any more ghouls, not that he dared to voice that opinion out loud.
"C'mon, kid. I'll even get Charlie to give you something non-alcoholic, on the house," Ham added.
With both sets of eyes upon him, Burke thought it best just to nod.
As they walked through the streets, people greeted both Kent and Ham fondly, taking care to make way for the latter as he moved through the crowd. They soon arrived at a sheltered doorway beneath the Statehouse, which the taller ghoul proceeded to unlock before ushering them inside.
Burke blinked as he entered, peering around the dim interior with both caution and curiosity.
"The bars built in an old subway station," Kent explained as he led the way to a descending stairwell. "Pretty n-neat, huh?"
A subway station? Burke felt himself pale a little further. Don't ferals like to hunt in subways?
He glanced back over his shoulder to where Ham was following them, and supposed an underground bar made sense for a town full of ghouls. He could feel sweat beading the back of his neck.
They stepped into a large open area, filled with tables, chairs and a couple of battered sofas. At the far end he could see a large bar, currently attended by a Mr Handy unit. Near the bar was a small stage with a microphone and large speakers.
Kent headed straight for it, toolbox rattling in his hand.
Burke followed, his eyes scanning every dark corner and doorway for any signs of a feral infestation.
When they reached the stage, they climbed a small flight of stairs to the top whilst Ham stayed on the floor, much to Burke's relief. From the stage they had a clear view of the entire dining area, from the bar to the stairs and the far wall, where a lone door was set beneath a sign reading 'V.I.P.', the letters spelt out in shining lightbulbs.
As Kent began talking to Ham, Burke drank in their surroundings, staring at the filled in train tunnels and the tracks cordoned off by fences that still allowed a view. The walls were adorned with a mixture of Silver Shroud posters, notices, bounties and maps of the old Boston metro system.
He was walking to the far side of the stage to look at the tracks on the other side, when Ham's gravelly voice made him freeze on the spot. "Hey, kid. Go sit at the bar and I'll have Charlie get ya a drink."
When Burke turned back towards them, Kent gave him encouraging smile whilst Ham waited with a stony expression. Reluctantly, he walked back down the steps and towards the bar, Ham following close behind.
He had just pulled himself up onto one of the stools when the Mr Handy appeared from a backroom, a bowler hat set between its eyestalks and a small old-world flag on his chassis.
"Oi! What's goin' on here?" it demanded, one eyestalk turning to Ham whilst two focused upon Burke. "He's not supposed to be in here! This is a bar, not a playroom. Hancock has rules about kids not bein' allowed to drink in here. So piss off until you're sixteen," it added, pointing at the Squire with a dirty rag.
"It's okay, Charlie." Ham replied calmly, not fazed in the slightest. "He's here with Kent and I promised them both drinks on the house."
"'On the house?'" Charlie repeated, the shutters in his lenses closing to near pinpricks. "'On the house?' You gone barmy on me?"
"Just some Nuka-Colas, Charlie. I'm not expecting top-shelf stuff," Ham replied.
"Too bloody right you aren't," Charlie grumbled, keeping one eye on Ham as it turned to the shelves at the back. "You're just lucky Kent's a mate."
Moments later an open bottle of cola was set before Burke, whilst Ham took the other with a nod.
"You alright to keep an eye on the kid, Charlie?"
"Do I look like a Miss Nanny to you?" Charlie grumbled, hovering towards the back room. "Piss off. He's your responsibility, not mine."
Burke blinked when the door slammed shut behind it.
All of the robots aboard the Prydwen were polite and obedient, subservient even to the squires and aspirants. That robot needs some serious reprogramming…
Ham sighed before fixing Burke in his black-eyed stare. "Just sit tight and don't go wandering off unless you need the bathroom. In which case, it's upstairs and to the right. I'll be helping Kent by the stage."
With that said the ghoul turned, walking to where Kent had pulled some kind of sound system from beneath the stage. Soon enough, Kent had Ham helping him at the power switches, and in sorting various components on the floor.
Burke sipped his cola in silence, at first half-listening to Ham and Kent's conversations to distract himself from his thoughts, but their technical jargon soon bored him. When his bottle was empty and intrusive thoughts began to prickle his mind, he slipped from his stool and started to walk around the perimeter of the dining area, studying the various posters and notices on the walls.
Both Ham and Kent seemed too engrossed in their work to pay him any mind, neither one glancing up as he gave himself a private tour of the room. Emboldened by their lack of attention, he gradually made his way towards the V.I.P. room, where he found the door slightly ajar.
He spared a single glance over his shoulder before pushing the door open and slipping inside.
The V.I.P. room was large and well-lit, furnished with plush furniture, a gambling table, a fully-stocked bar and even its own stage - though for some reason, it had two poles rather than a microphone.
As he glanced around the room his eyes fell upon a wall near the bar which was covered in framed photographs. An embossed plaque at the top read 'HALL OF FAME,' and as he drew closer he saw numerous images of well-dressed people and ghouls hanging out in the V.I.P. area.
He scanned over the images with great curiosity, wondering just who they were and what they had done to be classed as important.
None of them really stood out, save for a ghoul in a red frock coat and funny hat, who appeared in numerous photos alongside a scarred woman with shrewd eyes.
Mayor John Hancock and Fahrenheit he read beneath a photo of just the pair of them.
He turned his head, studying even more of the pictures when he felt his heart stop. With wide eyes and his feet dragging across the floor, he moved towards a collection of photos with its own special legend of 'The Crew.'
Nora was grinning at him from behind the glass. She was dressed in a navy blue frock coat with a hat not unlike the Mayor's atop her head, one arm draped around Hancock's shoulders and the other around a handsome cowboy with a radiant smile.
The three were at the centre of a group of Minutemen, all of whom were cheering, glasses and laser muskets raised in toast.
'Liberators of the Castle' was written beneath, with the names of each person under that.
Mayor John Hancock, General Nora Hart, Colonel Preston Garvey.
His throat tightened as he studied the image, taking in the uniforms Nora, her colonel and Minutemen wore.
It was strange. He had heard of her feats as the Minutemen General, but seeing actual evidence that she was anything other than a Brotherhood Knight was a different matter altogether. He had tried to picture her in the Minuteman uniform in the past, leading her citizen soldiers in defence of their settlements. When he had first met her, he wouldn't have believed such a thing possible.
But then she had saved the settlers at County Crossing, faced down countless mutants, protected him against the raiders and stood her ground against a behemoth...
Sniffing, he searched the other photos and found her again, this time wearing a sequined gown and a matching fascinator - and beside her was Danse, standing rigid in a tailored suit. He looked distinctly uncomfortable, his unease completely at odds with Nora's relaxed and happy demeanour as she stood with one arm linked through his.
Burke bit his lip, his vision fogging with tears as he sought another photo.
A picture taken during a card game. There were numerous people sat around the table in the corner, cards in hand and caps of varying quantities stacked before them. MacCready was there, slumped on the table with the last of his caps whilst Piper Wright grinned and patted his back, her own cap pile substantial in comparison.
Closer to the camera the mayor, John Hancock, was pulling faces alongside a wild looking woman with broad shoulders and messy red hair. Preston Garvey was leaning back precariously in his chair, laughing with a beer bottle raised high whilst beside him the synth detective, Nick Valentine, grinned around a cigarette and steadied the cowboy's chair with his hand.
Nora and Danse were at the far end of the table, surrounded by a wall of caps. Nora was laughing whilst Danse smiled warmly at her, his expression happy and unguarded. Burke supposed it might have had to do with the whiskey tumbler in his hand, as well as Nora's company.
His lip trembled. They were happy before I came along… if they'd never had to bring me out here…
He thought of the night Nora had dressed up to visit Danse at the Dugout, the sudden improvement in both their moods the following day, the way they looked at each other…
...and then Danse falling from the behemoth's grip to crash onto the concrete below, never to rise.
Nora fleeing with the super mutants in hot pursuit, leaving behind a broken promise she couldn't keep.
It had been two days since he had arrived.
And he was still alone.
She's not coming back...
Tears forged hot trails down his cheeks, but he didn't have the energy to wipe them away. The pictures of his friends blurred and his shoulders heaved beneath Danse's jacket. He bowed his head and gritted his teeth, fighting to rein in his emotions.
He was so lost in his grief and guilt that he didn't realise someone had entered until a hand gripped his shoulder.
He spun around, his eyes widening when he caught sight of a dark haired woman at his back.
Nora?
"Hey there, are you lost?" the woman asked, her voice husky, soft and completely unlike Nora's.
He sniffed and shook his head, drying his eyes on the jacket's sleeve. When he looked again, his vision no longer clouded by tears, he found himself looking upon an unfamiliar face.
The woman was glamourous, her slender, curvy figure accentuated by a red sequin dress that shimmered in the lights. Smokey eyeshadow and heavy eyeliner made the pale blue of her irises more vivid, whilst giving them a feline aspect.
She was smiling at him, her gaze kind but shrewd, as though she were trying to get a measure of him. He did his best to pull a blank expression, already thinking that she might know too much.
"You shouldn't be back here, sweetie," she continued, ushering him towards the door. "Gotta have your name on a list. Besides," she added, raising her voice when music suddenly blared through the bar, "the real show is happening this side of the door."
The music changed abruptly several times as Kent tested the controls on the stage, pressing a button on the floor beside the microphone with his foot. When they emerged he waved, calling loudly; "I fixed your m-music box, Mags!"
"Appreciate it, Kent!" the woman called back, before glancing down at Burke. "Are you a fan of live music, kid?"
He shrugged and she gave him a dazzling smile.
"Let's see if I can't make you a little more enthusiastic about it, hm? Why don't you take a seat there," she added, giving him a gentle push towards one of the sofas closest to the stage. "Mind if I test it out while you're here, Kent?"
"Not at all!" the ghoul grinned, hurrying from the stage. He joined Burke on the couch and removed his hat, his eyes bright with excitement as he turned towards the Squire. "Oh boy - I love hearing Magnolia sing! It's like nothing you've ever heard on radio!"
They watched as Magnolia made her way up the steps, her dress sparkling as though it were made from rubies. She raised one slender hand, caressing the microphone as she took hold of it before turning to smile at them. "I think we could do with something a little upbeat, boys. Don't you? So let's kick off this night off with 'Train, Train!'"
Seconds later an upbeat tune filled the station, Magnolia's voice echoing as she began singing along with the track. The music seemed to resonate through Burke, drowning out his thoughts and fears. Beside him Kent was singing along, swaying on the worn cushion and making strange pulling motions in time with every 'woo woo.'
Despite himself, Burke began to smile, Kent's enthusiasm and Magnolia's music proving infectious. Even the grouchy robot seemed to be instilled with some goodwill as he hovered over to give them each a Nuka-Cola and packet of crisps.
By the end of the first track, only one man wasn't smiling as he watched the scene from the bottom of the stairs, his hat pulled low and a pair of holotags gripped tightly in his hand.
A/N: This chapter got a lot longer than I realised O,O
I hope you've enjoyed Burke's adventures in Goodneighbor! He's still got a long way to go with regards to ghouls, but Kent has definitely given him a good start! Thank you for reading & especially to everyone who's left comments! I really appreciate it! 8D
Big thanks to MrNinjaPineapple & Sunsolace for beta-ing, you guys are *amazing!*