Hey, guys, it's been a week now, so I think it's an appropriate time to drop Chapter 4 now. It's actually lengthy, as well, but it's an important chapter because we get to see a slightly different side of Garrick, specifically a more pro-active side. So far Garrick's just been a man who has a lot going through his head, with his job being only an afterthought. Here, his characterization is more subtle, but also more terrifying than the other chapters. Hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 4: Without a Contract

"Hey, kid, you see Dr. Lang this morning?" a security guard asked.

A sixteen year old Garrick shrugged. "No."

"Oh, hey, you're that nice one, right? You aren't like the other guys in this damn facility. But you don't seem like that other nice one I saw earlier."

"That was Gerald. Can I see Elena?"

The guard scooted in front of him when he tried to step in through the door into what everyone else named 'The Normal People Area.' It was like trying to block a lab rat with some sort of experimental disease or something. Garrick shook his head at that exact thought. Too much Matheson lately. He needed to lay off reading too much I am Legend, even if it was the only book in his library. Rumors amongst the 'others' was that the outside was a waste like in the book. Hopefully it wasn't full of vampires.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute there, buddy," he said. "This area is off limits to…you guys…so…"

"Dr. Lang has let me through here countless times. Please let me enter," Garrick spoke politely, though the guard could probably detect the irritation behind his voice.

"Listen, you little shit," the guard then said, taking out his baton. "I-I don't care if you're a nice guy. You pass through here, then I'm gonna have to give you a beating ten times worse than the misbehaving ones usually get."

"Really?" Garrick remarked. The guard's eyes flickered for a moment, which signaled to him the psychological state he was in. Garrick leaned in closer to the guard, nearly touching his face on his security helmet. "I can bet you that when you try to hit me with that baton, I'll already have caught and broken your wrist and snatched it out of your hand. And since there's no one around, maybe I'll break a few of your ribs and cause some internal bleeding. Maybe you'll be in the hospital for a few weeks. Maybe it'll be so horrid that you just can't blame it on a 'kid' like me. Maybe you'll be too embarrassed to do so. Maybe you'll be calling your mother while you die from slow painful injuries."

The guard, a scrawny, red-haired, freckled man, gulped out of sheer trepidation and backed away just slightly. Garrick's intense look slowly subsided as he, too, backed away and stood relaxed.

"Or we could be friends and you can let me in, yeah? Hey, I'm not a complete douchebag like some of the others," Garrick said. "Once you get to know me, I think I can teach you how not to be a doormat amongst the other guards. They probably think you're a pushover."

"Uh, y-yeah. Thanks."

"Garrick?" a feminine voice called from past the open doorway.

His eyes lit up as Elena rushed past the guard and gave him a comforting embrace. He eyed the guard and gave him a wink before letting go of the hug and taking a look at her. She was beautiful, as always, but she could lose the facility's jumpsuit for a change. The two left down the 'Normal People Area,' leaving the guard behind.

"Haven't seen you in days," she said. "Not since those dumb psychological trials they've been doing. I've already talked to Gerald. He stopped by earlier before heading back to his quarters. How've you been?"

Garrick slightly twitched at the hearing of 'Number 2.' Gerald and Elena had quite a lot in common with each other. "I've been okay. Kinda drained. But hey, listen, I wanna talk to you about something."

"What?"

"Look, me and Gerald…we're planning…" Garrick looked around to see if no one was listening in. "…planning to leave. Gerald already knows how to get past the guards and everything."

"What about the big man?"

"Fuck him," Garrick said. "That overzealous bastard can take this experiment and shove it up his ass."

"Okay, so…what do you want me to do?"

"You should come with us."

Elena brushed away some of her blond hair and sighed. "I dunno, Garrick. I mean, you could be killed for that."

"Look," Garrick started. "The rest of the doctors—excluding your mom—are starting to get on my nerves. I don't think they've been making any progress with what they're aiming to do. Sooner or later, they're going to start killing some of us. It could be me, I know it. They are going to kill me. There's just not enough room for the originals to stay anymore. They could kill me, they could kill Gerald. I don't want to sit here and catch a poison syringe while sleeping, alright?"

"What about my mom?" she asked.

"It'll be hard, but we could help her out, too. I can't stay here anymore. I need to be out there. I think that we are meant for so much more, you know? I think there's something greater waiting for us just outside this damn testing ground. The honest truth is waiting to greet us outside, and I can't sit here anymore."

She turned away. "Garrick…"

"What are you doing here, young man?" a voice called from down the corridor.

Garrick looked down. "Shit…"

The man in the lab coat headed down the hallway and approached both of them. "Ah, Garrick. You're quite the maverick around here, aren't you?"

"Dr. Campbell," he started. "It's nice to see you, too."

"You know that this area is off limits to you," Dr. Campbell said. "I won't have to put more guards next time, do I?"

He shook his head. "No, of course not."

"Good," Campbell replied. "Lucky for you, I have some analysis results I need to review. You should get back before any of the others sees you in this area. I'll leave you and your little girlfriend to talk a little longer. But leave quickly."

"Yes, Dr. Campbell."

The doctor abruptly left to the other end of the hall and Garrick and Elena stood there, still fairly close to the 'Other Side.' She slightly blushed upon hearing the doctor's mentioning of the word 'girlfriend,' which caught Garrick's attention. Unlike most others, he was inclined to take advantage of quiet moments.

"Your face is red," Garrick said bluntly, aiming to tease her.

"Shut up!" she replied, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. "So, you're planning to leave…when?"

"Don't know yet," he said. "Still waiting on some people. Ahem. Some people."

"Uh huh, right."

"You know what?" Garrick then spoke. "It'd be pretty crazy if it was only the two of us who left, huh?"

Elena chuckled, but didn't have much to say for some reason. "Yeah."

There was a long pause, but Garrick couldn't take advantage of it. He honestly had nothing to say, finding himself waiting for her to say more, particularly to his previous declaration. For the entire time, he found himself watching her, appreciating her beauty, but somewhat bitter with her unreceptive attitude. Usually she wasn't like this.

"So what do you really expect when we get out?"

"Well, if we get out, then I hope there are some nice people outside," he responded. "I've got faith in our good human race that there will be a lot of honest sinning, particularly with the legions of women that will be waiting for me."

She turned away and laughed. "Ha! You wish."

"Nah, but really. I've got faith."

--

He examined his body in the mirror for just a second. The numerous scars that distracted his physique were annoying and egregious. Garrick shook his head. He hated taking off his shirt, particularly when women asked for it, because of the many scars. Most of them never cared, though, because they were downright whores who needed the money. For a moment, he wondered how that whore in Megaton was doing. What was her name again? No—something. It started with 'No.' Or was it something else? Nao. No. Noa. Something. He hated when things were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't bring himself to saying it. Naomi? Garrick mentally chastised himself for thinking of Naomi. Of course it wasn't Naomi. Novak. Nova. That's it. Nova. Cute girl. Hopefully she's running that saloon now; a lot better than that Irishman, at least. He chuckled to himself.

He lifted his scotch and took a light sip before setting it down. Now he was just waiting for the call from his contact. Before he could even sit back down, the door behind him opened and Naomi rushed in, quickly locking the knob behind her. She hurriedly turned around and noticed Garrick without his shirt on.

"Oh jeez! Sorry!"

Garrick calmly grabbed his undershirt and threw it on, shaking his head at her intrusion. "I take it you were staring through the keyhole, right?"

"What?"

"Just kidding. What is it?"

She brushed away her bangs. "It's a bit chaotic out there, but I managed to get by without suspicion."

"Oh really? That's quite an achievement," he said. "Of course, if you were the one being hunted down by Talon Company."

"So…chaos means success, yes?"

"I'm still alive."

"Alright," she nodded, heading over to the hotel bed and placing her files down.

She took off her jacket and revealed a stylish off-white pink dress shirt that accentuated her subtle, but attractive curves. To his surprise, she looked quite athletic. Probably was a health freak, which wasn't hard to imagine since the agency was a civilized facility. Before he could stare any further, she turned around and took a breath, seeming to be out of air after trekking through the panic outside. Even though it was in Rivet City, the speech could be heard here, at the Mall, through the radio, thanks to Three Dog and his recording team.

"So…uh, you called me this time," she stated. "What is it?"

"The shit's about to hit the fan," he said. "I want a ticket out of here."

Those words seemed to have passed through her like chems through a ghoul. "Wait, what?"

"The circumstances have changed. I want out."

He had much suspicion as to who was hunting him down. The Talon Company never operated on a personal level, and so it was strange that they would be that way as of late. Of course, it would take a scumbag like Dr. Campbell to have the audacity to even look for him. But right now, the fire was too hot, and he wanted none of it.

"Just like that, huh? Do you know how deeply you are dragged into this thing already?" she asked. "Look, Garrick. I'm sorry. I am. But the agency has already decided. We—I mean, 'they'—know you've done a lot for them, but at this time, losing you is a risk they're willing to take. We've already lost more than 60% of our agents in the past month alone, and there's no way the agency will give additional support to someone, especially a freelance agent."

"If I'm so expendable, then why did you come all the way out here to see me?" he asked.

"I was in town."

"Really?" he said, unconvinced. But, his attitude dropped and he shrugged. "It's only fair that they leave me here, then."

"If you really want to leave, then I can help get you out," she told him. "It doesn't have to be like this."

"Your generosity is appreciated," he said. "However, I'd stay if there's a contract. The presence of Dr. Campbell's already pissed me off enough. So…is there a contract?"

She swallowed, but took long enough to come up with an answer. Too long, however, as Garrick had already detected that a lie would come up. When she noticed his reaction to her pause, she sighed and looked down. "Yeah, there is. But the agency would never give it to you because you're a freelancer. On top of that, you're still being hunted and…ugh…things are getting out of hand. I mean, it's not like you're going to stay for personal reasons, are you?"

There was a pause for a moment, and she clearly noticed that he was thinking. Garrick's expression had turned blank as he stared at various spots in the room, something clearly bothering him.

He then quietly sat down in a seat nearby. "You should go."

"Why? You don't want me here?"

"No, it's not that," he said. "Look, if it's too hectic outside, then stay here and keep yourself busy. But I need some time to think."

She imagined that he was deciding whether to act personally or not. He was, after all, being targeted personally by some doctor she had never heard of. If he acted out of personal desires, then perhaps she could consider him a person. Fifteen minutes turned to thirty as she tried to keep herself busy in the quiet room. Naomi even turned on the radio, but Garrick's silence overpowered the noise of Three Dog's vocal tirades. She eventually found a copy of Grognak the Barbarian inside a drawer and flipped through it for awhile. It was an old edition that she used to read when she was still living with her mother. She wanted to ask Garrick if he had a mother once, because he was so ill mannered sometimes, yet had a degree of professionalism only found in the obsessive types. Naomi shot glances towards Garrick, but looked away when he looked back at her, blocking her face with the comic book.

In the copy of Grognak, she noticed that it was the issue about the encounter with the Spectre. The Spectre was always a person in the comic book that she didn't understand, especially when there were long dialogue bubbles full of things she didn't want to read. Maybe they'd make sense now that she's much older. The Spectre was a person who lived in a lonely swamp, and hated everyone who came to visit. When a beautiful woman arrived one day, he told her everything about the world that he knew. It was not a world of beauty and wonder, nor was it one of ugliness. It was a lonely world where everyone is inclined to their own agenda. He described it with a relation to peasants working forever until they die; working for nothing their entire lives. And he said if this was life, then there's no reason to it. She couldn't understand what the Spectre was trying to tell her, or the significance of it. But later in the book, Grognak arrived to rescue her and chopped the Spectre up to pieces. Or so he thought. The Spectre disappeared, claiming that no one would understand him. And that was the true horror.

Now that she read it, Naomi found the comic book a thousand times more interesting. She stared at her watch for a quick moment, and noticed that it had already been an hour since Garrick had told her to stick around…and he was still in his seat, thinking. The sun was already beginning to fall from the sky. She yawned and noticed that she had already made herself comfortable, untying her hair and loosening up her attire. Frankly, she would be embarrassed if anyone else saw her like this.

"You like music?" Garrick suddenly asked.

"Music?" she asked, subtly excited that he finally spoke.

"Yeah. Music," he said. "There's a great club I know of down in Underworld that's got some music. It's been there for years, and only a few people know how to get there. They got a lot of mock performances of the classics. Louis Armstrong, The Ink Spots, Ella Fitzgerald, Frank Sinatra."

"Yes, I like music. Uh, where are you going with this?"

"Would you like to accompany me to the jazz club tonight?" he asked.

Naomi slightly blushed and shyly laughed. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

"Is that a yes or a no? I'd hate to leave you behind tonight. Alone."

--

They had already dragged General Moss's dead body away, along with Bannon's. Sarah Lyons was already frantically browsing through the files that Dr. Campbell had left for her, but could not bring herself to focus. Her father was the only person on her mind. She heard a knock on her door.

"Come in."

Harkness stepped into the room, but in a careful manner, hoping that he wasn't intruding.

"Oh hey," she slightly smiled at him. Sarah turned around to face him and her face saddened. "I'm sorry about Bannon."

"Death is something we're always prepared for, even if it claims the greatest of us," Harkness said. "But enough of that. Bannon's death would be in vain if we don't get your father back."

"Yeah," she nodded. "The files are interesting. Apparently the guy we're looking for—Garrick—has never been caught."

"You saw him on that rooftop, too?"

He eyed the view through his scope for just that split second. General Moss was surely dead, since there was brain matter splattered all over the wall. Without thinking for another moment, he instinctively disassembled the rifle and placed it into the briefcase. It wouldn't be long before security would reach up here. Dashing for the fire escape leading down an alleyway, he slid down the rooftop ladder and hopped down the levels, eventually reaching ground floor.

"Of course," she said. "There's also no trace of what he's left behind. They found a recently used dumpster with a hole burnt right through it. There was nothing left of the package that was dumped in there."

Harkness nodded. "How'd that happen?"

Garrick passed through the alleyways, hopping over rubble and loads of trash with the Enclave remnants and Talon Company hot on his tail. When he made it through and saw daylight, he immediately discovered a concealed place to ditch his briefcase since it was obviously slowing him down. Sprinting to the yellow dumpster, Garrick hastily opened it and opened his briefcase, damning that there would be the logo of his agency on it. He snatched the thermite grenade on his utility belt and placed it inside, though now unable to close it because it took up too much space. Nonetheless, he lit the fuse and closed the dumpster.

"Thermite," she said. "I'm surprised our man would know how to use technology like this. Simple, but useful. Thermite can burn a hole through almost anything. No wonder why they only picked up bits of metal. The briefcase, I'm assuming, was completely destroyed. Maybe there was some useful information on it?"

Harkness nodded. "Possibly."

"I still don't get the real reason why Dr. Campbell wants this guy. According to him, the sniper was the man they were looking for. He hasn't had any luck catching him at all, though," she questioned. "It's even more likely that this killer has skipped town."

The android stepped around the room for a moment, but wasn't concerned about the killer. He was concerned with the man who had seized his city; his city, which was supposed to be impenetrable from all outside forces.

"So are you actually considering going after this guy?" he asked.

"It's the only way my father will be freed," she replied.

"You don't even know if Dr. Campbell will keep his end of the deal. This is still a wasteland, you know."

Sarah turned to face him. "His word's the only thing I've got. I've already lost the Pride during Project Purity, and I don't plan to lose anyone close anymore. Don't you know how it feels to lose someone close to you?"

Harkness bit his tongue, giving off a somber look. "I can only imagine."

He imagined the memories of a wife that had been given to him when he went to Pinkerton, and hated himself for doing such a thing. It was weak of him to do so.

"So you've never lost anyone close?"

"It's complicated," was all he said.

She turned back to the files, flipping through the pages and finally coming across a few pictures, noticing that there were even childhood pictures of the person. "Hey, look at this. These are when Garrick was a kid…up to adolescence. But that's weird. Nothing of adulthood."

Scanning the pictures further, she finally came across some other pictures, though they were only glimpses of the ghastly figure; shadows blurred over rooftops, alleyways, and wasteland mirages.

"If anything," she said, "he should still be nearby. There isn't much transportation around. He shouldn't be far."

"I know a few places that could be used as information," Harkness informed. "There is an underworld to this wasteland, after all."

The metal door behind them swung open with a creak as a few Enclave troopers stood on each side of the doorway. Stepping in was Dr. Campbell, unfazed and calm, even after the assassination of General Moss. Sarah closed the file and turned around to face him.

"So, now you know about our killer," the doctor said. "I would recommend you begin searching at the Mall for traces of him. And please, search in the darkest corners."

"Why are you so interested in catching this guy?" Sarah asked.

Campbell smirked. "I'm afraid, Miss Lyons, that you are not in a position to ask any questions. But, perhaps, if you're a good girl, you will find out in due time. Time is a factor in all of this, so we mustn't waste it. I don't recommend complete military procedure on this one. You'll have to use every bit of intelligence and cunning you can to catch him."

"And what do I do when I find him? Kill him?"

"Bring him in dead or alive," Campbell said. "I could care less."

Before Campbell turned to leave, Sarah stopped him for just another moment. He turned around to the calling of his name and awaited her words.

"How did you know my father?" she asked.

He smirked again, this time to reflect her questioning nature. "That one I won't tell. It might have something to do when your mother was still alive. You know…you really do look like her. I know Owyn has told you that before. I'm positive you get tired of hearing it."

"Don't talk about my mother," she warned politely; as if she could do much.

"You're surprisingly hotheaded," he replied. "I had heard different."

He turned around again and began to leave with the Enclave troopers, but turned to look over his shoulder.

"If Garrick sees you first, you should know he'll try to kill you," Campbell said. "If you watch some of the video samples from his childhood, he seems calm. Don't trust his nature. His ferocity is only matched by his urbane demeanor."

Then he left. Harkness uncrossed his arms and looked up.

"If you need assistance, I'll help. This is my city. I need it back."

"You think we'll find him?"

"From the looks of it," Harkness sighed. "It'll be like hunting a ghost."

"We'll start at the break of dawn tomorrow," Sarah nodded. "You should get some rest."

--

"Where I came from," Garrick said, "the classics were all they played."

"Really?" she smiled, finishing her fourth drink and beginning her fifth.

They had spent hours in the club, and now it was closing. People were leaving and the waitresses were cleaning up the tables. The doors that led upstairs to ground level were open to let out the cigarette stench lingering in the air.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You guys stickin' around?" a waitress walked by. "We're closin' up soon."

"I'm here to see Dodson," he said. Naomi was apparently too intoxicated to care about anything.

The waitress suddenly froze. "Uh, don't know any Dodson…"

Garrick didn't respond, but gave her a piercing stare that nearly killed her. His light attitude had immediately dropped. Aghast, she turned around and quickly headed to the back. There was some commotion, muffled voices in the back arguing about things. He took another sip of his martini and looked at Naomi, who leaned her head on her hand, resting on the table with her eyes shut. She looked like she was barely awake.

"You shouldn't have had so many drinks," he noted.

"I can drink as much as I want," she said, barely articulating the words correctly. "Y-you know…this club…it is…is…is not so bad. My mom used to play this music all the time, you know…before she died and all."

"You lost your mother?" he found himself asking.

"What, do you th…think I just disappear when you're not on…on contract…or something?" she asked, trying to keep her focus on him, though she was more free spirited at the moment. "No. I have no one else, Garrick. My m-mother is buried in Arlington."

"Ever visit?"

"What did I just say?" she somewhat yelled, then laughed when she took another gulp of her drink. "I don't just…just disappear, you know. I stay around, too! In fact, I'm always around! I have nowhere to go! I'm like an orphan! You know what I do? You—you really wanna know? I…I do nothing. I go back to my apartment room in the agency facility and…"

She had stopped hiccupping and looking like she was about to pass out, but instead, stared straight forward, a sunken look on her face. Garrick gave her a stare as if he was obligated to listen to her.

"And I sit on my bed. And I cry," she said. "I cry because I lost more agents that week. Not really agents…more like soldiers. In some stupid war. Sending them to their deaths. Fighting in the name of something useless. And I wonder what my mother would have done, but I can't remember. She's only a distant memory…"

"Amusing. I think you've had enough," he spoke. His voice had been stern and detached all evening, seeming as though he was here on different business.

"Why do you care if I drink it all away? It's not like you lost a mother or anything…did you?"

He didn't answer, either annoyed or just not listening, or something else. A tear began to form in her eyes, but he seemed to have rolled his eyes at her melodrama.

"And I sit there and realize…I'm just…I'm just alone…Garrick…just alone…"

At last, a man emerged from the backroom, dressed in a cheap suit with a red tie. Garrick was dressed in a black trenchcoat over his gray suit, and was nearly armed to the teeth with three types of handguns in different holsters on his body. He was surprised that there weren't many bouncers, and had guessed correctly on waiting so long until everyone was gone. Naomi had stopped crying and finished the rest of her drink.

The man who came to greet him was a rather large man with greased-back hair and a heavy five o'clock shadow, looking like he was frightened just moments ago. Instead of standing up to shake his hand, Garrick gestured him to sit with a movement of his head. The large man, Dodson, gave him a smile and quickly eyed Naomi's body down to her legs.

"That's some nice company you've got with you," he said. "How 'bout a drink?"

Garrick shook his head. "No."

"I'll have a drink, then," the fat man chuckled.

"No, you won't. We'll be through in a second," Garrick said monotonously, unflinching.

Dodson was nervous, breathing heavily but hiding it with smiles and forced laughter. "So, uh, what can I do for ya, Garrick? Been awhile since you've been here last time. Yes it has…"

"You heard about the seizure of Rivet City," he said. "You know that someone is hunting me."

"Uh," Dodson laughed a little. "Don't know what you're talking about, man. I just run a club. We just play music."

Naomi took a deep breath that seemed more like a yawn, trying to stay awake. "I liked the music tonight…"

"Heh, thanks, Miss…?"

"N-Naomi," she said, holding out a hand lovingly. "Just Naomi."

Dodson kissed her hand and smiled. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Name's Dodson. You know, my son plays in here tomorrow. You should stop by."

"You have a son?" Naomi asked happily. She then turned to Garrick. "Garrick, he has a son! I wish I had a child, too."

Garrick's expression still hadn't moved, nor did his body. He just kept a sharp stare towards Dodson, knowing that the fool was just trying to buy time. The fat man made a few compliments towards Naomi for another few moments before Garrick broke the conversation.

"Yes," Garrick said. "I should make time to come for your son tomorrow."

Dodson's eyes widened and he immediately turned away from her, facing Garrick. "Alright! Okay…"

"Tell me what you know. Why is Dr. Campbell working with the Enclave?"

"He's lookin' for ya. I don't know why," Dodson then said. "He's trying to get everyone he can to hunt you down. Heard that he'll use Sarah Lyons to do it. He'll probably try to seize the Brotherhood, too."

"Why?"

"Power, man. What else?"

"Sarah Lyons, huh?" Garrick looked away, finally giving off a life-like gesture. "They'll probably be here by tomorrow."

Dodson stuttered a bit. "D-don't worry, Garrick. I won't tell 'em you stopped by."

"You won't tell 'em huh?" Garrick retorted, slightly mocking his words. "So there's more than one person?"
"They've got this android with them—"

"Harkness!" Naomi's voice reverberated throughout the now empty bar. "That Commonwealth escapee! That guy. Yeah. That guy."

"Naomi," Garrick muttered.

"What?"

"Shut up."

"F-fine. If you don't wanna hear what I have to say, then I don't want to talk to you anymore!"

He rolled his eyes and focused back onto Dodson. "Alright. Sounds like I know where to go next."

Garrick then looked down and reached into the back of his belt for some caps.

"Good," the fat man chuckled, suddenly excited, or more accurately, relieved. "Hey, you really should come to see my son sometime. He—"

Instead of getting the caps, though, Garrick reached for the concealed pistol on his lap and brought it up to the man's face, pulling the trigger once. And once was all it took. Dodson's entire head flew back from the explosion of the bullet particles into his brain and his arms drooped to the ground lifelessly with his mouth frozen open, screaming silently into the heavens with no God to answer. Naomi nearly fell backwards, but managed to retain her balance as Garrick dropped a few caps onto the table anyway. She had never seen a person killed before her eyes. She watched videos of them. She saw gruesome photos of victims back at the agency, limbs torn apart and faces cut in half from horrible encounters in the wasteland. She thought she had seen it all.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" she exclaimed discreetly, backing away from the dead body as soon as possible.

"Naomi, shut up," Garrick commanded, looking at the backroom to listen for the waitress. When he was sure she wasn't coming back, he turned to Naomi. "He was a liability. He's dead. Let's go."

When she didn't get up in time, he stood up and forcefully grabbed her by the arm, pulling her up from the chair and dragging her out through the bar door. She couldn't stop repeating the words, "My God, my God," and began breathing heavily, quickly losing air from the seizure of her lungs.

"Just breathe," he said, taking her out of the Underworld door. There weren't any Ghouls out this late, so they snuck out easily.

"My God, my God."

"Stop praying. It won't help."

"You…you fucking shot him," she said in a more sober tone as they made their way past the grand room of the Museum of History.

"That's right. I did."

She sounded terrified. "You shot him. In the head. Why? Why in the head?"

Garrick took a moment before answering, his eyes still staring at the exit door. "I didn't want to ruin his suit."

Before they could exit, Naomi bent over and vomited on the lobby floor, but Garrick didn't know if it was from the murder or from the alcohol. She was quite resilient for her size, though, taking in more than 5 heavy drinks tonight. Garrick turned away and scowled in disgust, and when he thought she was finished, he dragged her along, straight through the door. When they got outside, she began to resist, struggling for him to let go of her arm.

"Let—let go of me!" she shouted. "Let go of me!"

He released her arm and she stumbled backwards, surprised that he let her go. Naomi stood up and ripped the bottom of her skirt to free up her legs, as if she was getting ready to run. However, she just stood there, hair completely messy and glasses off. She was more attractive with her glasses off. But, he had no time to play games with her. Naomi was either going with him or staying behind; he could give a damn less.

"You promised me we'd have some fun tonight, Garrick!" she pointed a finger at him. "You promised! You didn't say you'd be killing people!"

"I never promised a thing."

"Shut up! I hate you!" she shouted. Then she unbuttoned the top few buttons of her dress shirt and loosened up. "Look at me in this ridiculous outfit. I hate this outfit…"

"You coming along?" he asked, unaffected. "If not, I'm leaving."

"Oh, yeah, you think it's so easy, don't you?!" she asked loudly. It slightly startled Garrick, causing him to look around to see if she was attracting unwanted attention. Luckily, there was no one out. "You just walk around, killing people like that."

"That's what I do."

"What did he ever do to you?"

Garrick's eyebrows twitched just slightly, seeming not to comprehend what she had just said. "…what?"

"He had a son!" she exclaimed.

"Naomi," he said, prompting her to shut her mouth momentarily. His voice was sounding shockingly honest, as the mention of her name softened the tension. "There are a billion people out there. He doesn't make a difference."

"But he never did anything to you!"

"And he never did anything for you."

"Shut up!"

From far away, Garrick could hear the sound of patrolmen passing through this part of town. He saw the look on her face as a calling from behind him indicated that they have been sighted.

"Hey, you two," a patrolman called as they drew closer. "What are you guys doing out so late?"

Garrick gave Naomi the same stare he gave that waitress. It was like looking into a time bomb. "You better not tell them."

The patrols were not armed. Since the Brotherhood's influence had spread, many have signed up for some of the lower jobs, and there weren't nearly enough power armors to supply every signup. This made them easier to dispatch, but Garrick hoped that Dodson's life would be enough for tonight.

"Wha…"

"What's going on here?" the other patrolmen asked. So they travelled in pairs.

"You act wrong, I put them down," Garrick muttered lowly to her, sending a chill throughout her body.

He turned around to face the patrols. "Nothing, officer. Just got out of the bar. Taking my girlfriend back and everything…you know the deal. She's a bit sauced."

"Oh," the officer nodded. He then looked over at Naomi. "Miss? You okay?"

Naomi was now sober enough to think straight, and nodded. "Yes, officer. I'm okay. I'm a little tired."

"Well, you should keep it down. When everyone's asleep, this area's got a silence policy. It makes it easier for us to hear if raiders are coming."

"Understood, officers," Garrick said.

"You two have a safe night, now," the other officer said.

As they stood there underneath the newly installed city lights, Garrick pulled out a cigarette and put it between his lips, trying to remain calm despite the situation. He stood there for a moment without even looking at Naomi, intentionally drawing his face back to show his impatience with her, shuffling through his pockets for a lighter. They'd have to be moving soon.

"You haven't quit?" she asked, much more sober now, though he knew she'd probably pass out later.

"Can't find a light," he replied.

Before long, he found a set of matches that were used earlier today to ignite the magnesium strip for his thermite grenade. Usually, he had a silver lighter with him for the cigarettes, but this would have to do. Garrick took a drag of the smoke and walked over to Naomi, offering his help to walk her back to the hotel room.

--

Garrick let out a grunt as he set Naomi on the bed, having carried her all the way from the door after taking off her shoes and her jacket for her. He made sure that she was sleeping either on her side or on her stomach in case she was so intoxicated that she'd vomit, and possibly drown that way. It was a sick thought, but he didn't want to take any chances. Naomi, though, seemed comfortable, even snuggling on the bed with a cute groan. When she looked like she was completely gone, Garrick pulled the sheets over her and tucked her in to bed, then realizing that she was occupying all the space. He let out a short chuckle and threw off his shoes, along with his coat.

The holsters on his belt had two guns; one on the right side of him and the other on the back, for backup. His third pistol was on a vest holster that he had decided to wear tonight. Garrick threw off all the guns and set them on the table next to the bed, heading over to the small lounger and resting down on it. There would be a new set of problems tomorrow. For a moment, he considered apologizing to Naomi before turning the lamp off. But, he decided not to. He hated explaining his actions, let alone his own person.

Tonight, he realized something about himself, though he felt familiar to these effects before. He could act on his own, without a contract. Along with that, Naomi, who had seen countless deaths before (due to the insensitivity training they had for agency recruits), was afraid of him. So was Dodson. It was this fear that gave him that much more of an edge. Maybe it was something to consider for his next actions. Maybe, he could use it.

But it would have to wait for tomorrow. Garrick put on his sunglasses before going to bed and turned off the light, surprisingly heading quickly into a sleep. He'd have to make a long trip in the morning. To Tenpenny Tower. He had to see a man he hadn't seen in a long time; an old associate and rival-turned-businessman. He had to see Mister Burke.

I'll stop right there for now. Well, you guys probably know where the next chapter is going. Come on, I couldn't write an assassin tale without including some of the darkest wasteland figures! Heh. Thanks for reading, and please leave a review if there are things you'd like to know more about or suggest. I'm always open to constructive criticism and I always consider every review, even if I don't reply to them.