Bang!

"She didn't even leave a fuckin' note!" Cross gnashed his teeth together, planting another round in the super mutant's lifeless skull. "I fuckin' knew somethin' was gettin' at her. Figured she'd just talk to me 'bout it later…Christ, and after all the shit we just went through yesterday."

Charon reloaded his shotgun and flicked at some gore splattered on his armor. Super mutants were a rare enough occurrence in the Commonwealth these past couple of months, but they still seemed to thrive from somewhere within the hives of the dilapidated city. There was only so far as to where the Minutemen could stretch their influence.

His employer was taking the brunt edge of his concern and wrath about Evelyn's sudden disappearance with a stone-cold vengeance on anything that so happened to cross their paths. A few raiders, perhaps scoping out some potential territory, were unlucky enough as it was to catch him first thing out the door. The sniveling survivor had tried fleeing on her hands and knees, and the merc just planted a boot in her back and a bullet in her brain. Diamond City was met with his overly grouchy self. No one veered to stand in their way as he made a beeline for Valentine's detective firm, nearly flinging the door off its hinges as he slammed it open.

"Okay, what'd ya tell her?" Cross snarled.

Ellie Perkins found a lump of fear in her throat at the sudden intrusion on her usual quiet morning of organizing files. Nick rose from his seat in the back, taking in the hulking shadows blocking their doorway with a keen eye.

"Maybe if you didn't come barging inside like a raider strung out on chems, I could understand what it is that you're asking," Nick drawled smoothly, resetting the folded cuff of his long sleeve shirt. He settled a comforting hand on the young woman's shoulder. "Why don't you give us a moment, Ellie."

The secretary darted out the door to escape the hostile atmosphere, leaving the three men to themselves.

"I know she came here. Did she ask 'bout Darcy?" Cross felt a draft of air as the ferryman closed the door behind them.

"We are talking about your wife, I presume?" Nick settled in a chair, reaching for an already lit cigarette in a tray. "What makes you so sure she swung by?"

"Did she, or did she not? I ain't lookin' to waste any time." The merc was so downright malicious with his tone it made Charon turn his head to stare at him. Cross wasn't angry, he was frightened.

"This sounds serious," the synth mused softly. He then stood straight and began to shoulder his trench coat. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but she hasn't stopped in for a visit since the last time we spoke." He roved his eerily glowing optics at the man. "I can help you ask around town, if you'd like."

Before the merc could snarl out a don't fuckin' bother, the ferryman planted a firm grip down on his shoulder.

"That would be helpful." Charon nodded. He then pulled the merc out into the empty alleyway, a moment of déjà vu toying with his reality. "What exactly did Evelyn tell you before she left last night?"

Cross watched the synth calmly stride out to the open market without them, and he ground his teeth together in frustration.

"She…she said-" He could picture her lips just inches from his own, feel the heat of her hands holding his face. "-I'll come back." Now that he focused on the scene, her eyes had looked so incredibly sad. He thought he had imagined it, figured it to be a trick of the lighting. "But if she didn't come lookin' for Darcy…where the fuck would she go?"

"And she took nothing with her?"

"I mean." He rubbed at his head, and then just as quickly stopped. "The duffel bag. I-I didn't even think twice about it…"

Charon seemed to visibly relax. If there were any concrete Laws according to Evelyn, one would be thou shall sell what thou have scavenged at the best price.

"Let us see if she came to the market."

The detective was already, and unsuccessfully, attempting at coaxing answers from a twitchy proprietor.

"Get the hell away from my stall, you synth!" she spat, drawing the curious eyes of onlookers that were within hearing.

"And a good day to you as well, Myrna," he quipped sarcastically with a sigh.

Cross planted his hands on the counter, startling the woman back a few steps. "Look, ya goin' to make this any harder than it needs to be?"

"I don't serve ghouls, either!" Her crazed eyes flit between the three. "Come any closer, and I'll scream!"

"Christ," he growled, easing a few feet away as he felt the eyes of some Diamond City guards narrow on his back.

"Should've known better, but it was worth a shot." The tailcoats of Valentine's jacket were swept along as he whisked for the Dugout Inn. The three were greeted with much more hospitable airs.

"Ah, gumshoe! What brings you here besides a stiff drink, eh?" The Slavic bartender waved a hand and procured a bottle from underneath the counter, but Valentine declined the offer. "No? Well, I know you never say no! Hah ha!" He began to sloppily pour a tumbler for the ferryman.

"Actually, Vadim, we're here for other matters." Valentine drew in close. "Did a woman perhaps come around-" He looked back to Cross for a close approximation on the times.

"Anytime past midnight till now." Cross briefed him on the same description from the day before. "Might've been carryin' a large duffel bag with her. She ain't too hard to lose in a crowd."

Vadim thoughtfully looked down at the untouched drink on his counter, and twirled it around in a slow circle. "There was someone, sounds pretty similar to your woman, but she was blonde. I do remember her though. Pretty little lapochka. Asked for some directions out of town."

Cross sighed and looked around the room. Besides the usual loyal customers, the joint was dead. They would have to move on…he couldn't imagine her having gone back to Goodneighbor after the incident yesterday…

"Thanks for the help, let me know if you hear word by any chance." Valentine nodded.

The barkeep waved a hand. "Anytime, tovarisch."

They came back outside, and the synth marched straight across the way to Kathy and John's Super Salon.

"Cathy, John." The synth gave a respectful nod of his head to both in turn. "Sorry to say, but I'm not really looking for a trim as of yet." He shrugged his hands in his coat pockets and looked back up the steps leading to the exit of Diamond City. "Wouldn't have happened to have any late-night customers by chance, would you?"

Cathy paused sweeping up the bits of hair from a previous client. "How did you know that?"

"Call it a detective's intuition," Valentine mused. "Woman?"

Cathy looked over at her son, and set the broom aside. "She came knocking on our door and paid a good number of caps. I knew I didn't feel right about her. Who needs a new hairstyle at midnight?!"

"What did she look like?" Charon rasped, and he began to feel all sorts of wrong about the situation. This was definitely not typical Evelyn behavior. This felt like she was running…but from what? And where?

The mother-son duo perfectly described their wandering smoothskin, now sporting a fresh cut and golden locks. The trio reconvened to the side.

"So, your wife gets a new look and asks for directions at the local dive bar." Valentine eyed the fidgeting glowing ghoul beside him. "Are you alright?"

"Fuck you think?" he snarled, rubbing at his mouth with a shaking hand.

"I'm going to ask Vadim where exactly she left off to. I'll be right back."

I'll come back, okay?

"Why the fuck would she do somethin' like this?" Cross rasped, his voice growing thick and expression ugly. He didn't even have the strength to follow in the synth's footsteps. "Has she ever pulled some crap like this before?"

"No," Charon said slowly. He crossed his arms, keeping his hands tucked at his sides lest he lose his composure and throw a fist into something. "I do not know what she is thinking."

"She told me she'd be right back, she said she'd come back. Why would she say that and just fuckin' leave?"

Charon shrugged his shoulders, now battling his own inner demons as the thought of that drink leaving circles on the bar counter began to cross his mind.

Valentine spanned the marketplace with easy strides. "Well, it isn't a simple walk through the park, but Vadim said she was asking about Sanctuary. Does that mean something to you?"

Cross stared at the synth, too stunned to breathe.

Come meet me in Sanctuary. Come alone.

Evelyn twirled a strand of golden hair around a finger as she observed the tilted signpost at the crossroads. It still threw her for a momentary loop at having her long hair suddenly so short at her shoulders, no less bright and glowing in the midday sun. Once Cross discovered her ruse, she was bound to have the east coast's best bounty hunter sniffing at her heels. A simple change in hairstyle wouldn't be enough to deter him forever…but it was sure to buy more than enough time. Just enough for her to confront Darcy herself and put an end to this mess once and for all. No more secrets, no more games, no more running. This was no one's problem but her own. Cross shouldn't have to bear this burden just because of his love for her, and it was time to take matters into her own hands to ensure he wouldn't. Not anymore.

She rubbed at her eyes. The lack of sleep and being on the move since the previous night were catching up fast; it made the backpack she carried feel just a little heavier; tripped up her feet in front of the other as she gently wavered down the road. With a hazardous best guess as to what her progress was like compared with the height of the sun, she would think she was making decent time.

It's not like Cross would know where she ran off to- the Mister Handy that she had sold the lot of junk in the duffel bag to didn't ask questions, and the barkeep that kindly gave her directions, along with a nudge of some vodka, wouldn't be able to put her brunette face with these golden locks. The merc would have to make assumptions…but Cross was smart, and he had Charon along for the ride, and they knew the Commonwealth sure as hell of a lot better than she did. It wouldn't take them long…perhaps they were already on the same road as she was. Ugh. Charon was going to be so pissed. Maybe she shouldn't go back-

A rattle inside a trashcan spun her head to the sound; two barbed antennas were wiggling from underneath the lid as though tasting the air, and she hoofed it down the avenue before it could emerge completely.

She kept a low profile amongst some thick branches of low-hanging mutfruit, observing the road up ahead for any sign of danger. A few radstags, and a peeping molerat sniffing outside its burrow, presented little issue. She continued to follow the cracked asphalt until some footsteps made her pause. A group of men wearing outfits she had only seen in old history books were marching along, armed with laser weapons that she did not recognize.

"Greetings, traveler." One gave a tip of his hat to her as they began to pass. "Encounter any trouble?"

She furrowed her brows, completely caught off guard by their amicable presence.

"Uh." Evelyn pointed to the looming apartment buildings and department stores in the distance. "There's a handful of feral ghouls roaming over there. I went around."

"Thanks for the tip, we'll take care of it." He nodded, and the three began to make their way down the road she had just journeyed from.

"W-wait, hey," she stammered as they all turned. If they were being this friendly, might as well ask for clarification on directions. "Is some place called Sanctuary, down this way?"

The one in the lead gave a nod. He pointed a gloved finger past the row of houses she was encroaching upon. "Stick to this road all the way up north. You'll make your way through College Square, past Concord, and finally come to a wooden bridge just past a Red Rocket. Trust me, you won't be able to miss it." He eyed her lack of visible weaponry, and then up at the sky. "There's a radstorm brewing in from the coast. I would advise you take shelter soon- it's going to be a nasty one."

"Thanks," she mumbled as they took back off to deal with her earlier troubles. She blew out a breath to wave some strands of hair from her face, and then looked back up the main road.

For the hundredth time, she debated whether or not she should have at least left him a note…

Juices dripped down the sides of his mouth as Sinjin gorged on the bitter mutfruit, not really hungry but more so having a lack of anything else to pass the time. He placed the cracked binoculars to his eyes as he peered down at the small band of caravan traders beginning their journey across Sanctuary's bridge. His little impromptu hideaway he had been bunking down in was beginning to grow stifling. The ghoul hated a fucking stakeout. He always left this shit like a scrap of meat for his hungry dogs to fight over, make them feel needed.

Carol's corpse had been left to rot after all the information he could squeeze from her brittle bones was sucked dry. He packed a bag with everything of value to him- meds, basic supplies…a fucking contract that was eerily similar to the one he had recently lost possession of. It had been nestled deep inside a hidden pocket in her lab coat. He didn't really know why he had taken it; he was more on the fence about leaving it than risking a repeat episode from the boat.

But she had divulged just who he was.

Roman's her brother…they're twins.

Sinjin know probably knew more about Evelyn than he could have ever possibly fucking cared to. But care he did…for here he was, hungry for more. There felt to be a weighted sort of destiny to the whole situation; a golden opportunity that didn't just come by any one man on any given day. It made him so fucking angry that the merc just treated her like some affectionate, favorite squeeze, and that she just ate out of his hand like some wide-eyed puppy. Sinjin was going to gain all the leverage he could and show her just what she was truly valuable for.

He lowered his binoculars, stretched in his spot till a pleasing crack sounded in his spine, and decided to take a quick break. Some empty bottles of beer rolled along the floor of the tiny mobile trailer he was secluded in, and he opened the door for a quick piss outside. A yawn escaped him, and he shook his remaining drops on the wooden cross of a grave.

The hillside of vault 111 provided a perfect view of the thriving settlement down below- the entire area had been converted into a crude gravesite dedicated to The Families of Vault 111, and the earth had remained undisturbed long enough for him to feel comfortable setting up shop in.

That fucking merc acted quick- Sinjin's name and face were whispered everywhere. Five-thousand fucking caps for him?! He would almost feel flattered, if not for the fact it made his life that much more difficult. But, if he were a smarter ghoul, he would've taken the first opportunity he had and just started out west, rather than lying in wait for a glimpse of the woman Carol had held onto with her dying breath.

San…Sanctuary…don't…don't hurt her…please.

And then, with a wheezing rattle down her skeletal, dry throat, her eyes sunk in, and the light of life was no more.

Darcy Lackins, where, oh where, just the fuck are you? He growled to himself as he took another look through his magnified sights. He would think a woman of her description would stand out like a sore fucking thumb, but it'd been a number of days already, and he was just biding his time, occasionally peeping through some smoothskin's open window at night and jacking off to her small tits.

He looked up at the passing journey of the sun. Yet another day wasted here.

The ghoul sat in the dark, not risking a light for the evenings lest it signal to someone down below that they had a stalker spying in their midst. He only inhaled on a smoke with his head ducked down, not even taking the ludicrous chance someone might spot the glowing ember at his mouth.

Fuck it. He roved back to his, well, it wasn't a favorite spot, but shit, it was free entertainment, and he was about bored out of his fucking mind. Yep. There she was, the dirt-streaked, gardening wastelander ready to sit in her grime-covered tub. He watched her hands go to pull over her (what was once presumably white) brown shirt over her head, but she paused, and instead left the room. Oh. She had that next-door neighbor knocking at her back door. Literally and figuratively.

Holy crap, I need to get a fucking grip. He pulled his sights away from the scandalous affair of the married man plowing the girl from next door and back to the empty streets as night fell on the town of Sanctuary. Everyone but the nightly patrols seemed to be tucked away in their beds and safe in their homes, quite unaware of the wolf they had preying on them from above.

He quit for the night- too aggravated with his lack of progress. A bottle of vodka was uncapped; he'd indulge himself tonight, at least. A radstorm was thundering down on the wasteland and would soon make its way up north. He imagined his scarred and callous hand as Evelyn's pink lips while he wildly jerked himself, fantasizing of all the ways he could ram himself down her throat just to get her to shut the fuck up; it was enough of something to keep him warm when the sudden cold wind blew through.