Hey all! I hope everyone had a pleasant holiday (surprisingly, I did). I didn't mean for this chapter to be as long as it is, but the quest "The Big Dig" takes so f-ing long to play (and write about, apparently). I'm hoping this I can wrap up that quest by next chapter, which I'll do my best to put up on the site by the middle of the week.
Thanks as always for the follows and likes! Enjoy!
Betty staggered out the last of the three warehouses and pulled the bottom of her shirt up to dab at her bleeding, split lip. By tomorrow, most of her legs and arms would be mottled with bruises, not to mention the scrapes and cuts. She wondered if Charlie sent her on this mission knowing she'd have a hard time of it. There was even a moment in the second warehouse when she thought that she might not make it out at all. Thinking about Shaun, about how afraid he must be in this insane, post-nuclear Boston, forced her to fight on; that and she found an ammo box with three frag grenades. Her luck at times was decent but for the most part, it wasn't enough. As much as she wanted to be able to scour the wastes on her own, she needed a bit of help.
It was almost four o'clock in the morning as Betty trudged toward the Third Rail. A tall man in a dark suit bumped into her right shoulder, apologizing when he realized he didn't recognize her face.
"'Scuse me," said the man. "New in town?" Betty nodded and he said, "If you're looking for work with some fuckin' good pay, go down that little alley there. A door's at the end of it and you can get started."
"I know I'm new here, but I'm not stupid. Going down a dark alley is how people get robbed, or worse."
"My boss is just lookin' for some new muscle and you look like a bit of a scrapper with that lip is all. Have a good night."
Betty looked around before peeking around the corner of the alley the man mentioned to her. He was right; nothing at the end of the alley but a door. She kept her hands on her rifle as she walked up to the door, finger resting above the trigger in case this turned out to be a bit more unsavory than usual. As she raised her fist to knock, the peep hole slid open and a pair of cloudy eyes appeared.
"Hey. Looking for work?" asked a raspy woman's voice.
"What kind of work do you offer?"
"It's good work, under the supervision of the best boss you'll ever have, Bobbi No-Nose," said the ghoul woman. "If you don't mind a little manual labor and don't ask too many questions, you're in. I'll give you fifty caps to start. Interested?"
Finally, a job that doesn't have me shooting everyone, thank God," thought Betty. "Could you do a bit better than that? I'm a little...broke."
"Fine, take a hundred up front."
"I'm in," said Betty. "I just have to pick up something from a friend and I'll be right back."
The ghoul woman smiled and said, "That's what I like to hear. Come on in after you finish your errand and I'll give you the lowdown."
Betty thanked her and walked over to the Third Rail. She didn't know how Charlie could possibly know if the job was done, but word in Goodneighbor traveled faster than a gasoline fire it seemed. Once inside the bar, Betty dabbed at her split lip again and Ham perked up with mild concern.
"The hell happened to you?" Ham asked as he handed her a handkerchief from his pocket.
She took the hankie with a word of thanks and explained, "I...got into a scrap with some thugs when I was exploring town."
Ham nodded. "Are these the injuries of a winner or a loser?"
She answered with a bit of pride, "Trust me, they look much worse."
"If anyone ever gives you trouble you can't handle yourself, come here and they'll have me to deal with," Ham told Betty.
Betty thanked him, grateful to have another friend watching her back and walked down the steps to get her caps from Charlie. The bar was almost empty, with some of the locals slumped over their tables, drinks spilled or knocked to the floor, jet inhalers and used needles scattered by the overflowing trashcans. She shook her head; this place would be hell to clean up night after night.
Hancock, who was about to turn in for the evening, saw the new softskin hobble in. A bit roughed up, but she was alive and kicking. The more he saw of her, the more interesting she became. He could tell she was wound up a bit too fucking tight and maybe a bit too sweet for his liking, but the way she held herself when she walked gave off an air of determination. She was a fuckin' fighter, he could tell.
He liked that in a woman.
Whitechapel Charlie tossed the bag of caps towards Betty and told her, "Not bad for some new blood. My client is grateful for your help getting rid of those rat bastards."
"Thank you for these caps. I hate to take them and run, but I have another job offer and I don't think she's the type to leave waiting," said Betty, "And I still have to clean up a bit."
"Like I give a damn if you stay 'ere or not," Charlie said with a huff. "Unless you were gonna buy some beer."
"I'll come back tomorrow night and buy two," she assured him before she rushed up the stairs to the ladies room. Hopefully, they had soap.
"She? What dame would give the softskin work at this hour?" Hancock said to himself. The revelation hit him right then and he shouted out, "MacCready! Get out here!"
"Tryin' to sleep here, Mayor!" a man's voice shouted back from inside the VIP room.
"I'll get your tab cleared with Charlie, now get out here!"
"But..Sir!" Whitechapel Charlie shouted. "MacCready's tab is well over 500 caps!"
Hancock waved off the robot and said, "Give the damn kid a break and squash the fuckin' tab if he takes the job."
A young man shuffled out of the VIP room as he yawned into an old army cap before setting it back on his head. His duster was a bit too large for him, and dried blood stained the left shoulder, a reminder of his last injury. If it were not for Hancock's interference, MacCready would be a dead man. He owed the ghoul and although he drank enough beer tonight to kill a brahmin, he'd still be the best hired gun one could buy.
MacCready pat Hancock's shoulder and sat beside him at the bar. "How's the coolest mayor in the Commonwealth?"
"Drunk, high, and fuckin' tired. Listen, I know you noticed that new softskin gal, everyone has," Hancock began. "She might be gettin' mixed up with some bad shit."
"Black hair, blue eyes, and skin way too perfect for this wasteland?" MacCready asked. The ghoul nodded and the young man added, "She must be another vault girl. Met one of those in the Capital Wasteland. She was...a little insane. Bloodthirsty, too."
"Well this dame ain't either of those things and that's what bothers me. You keep an eye on her. Don't interfere unless she ain't gonna make it, ya dig?" Hancock explained. "Do this for me, and your tab's cleared."
MacCready raised his brow and asked, "What's it to you? Whether she lives or dies?"
The ghoul paused at MacCready's question, not sure of his answer. It was something he couldn't explain yet. He took pity on any newcomers to Goodneighbor, especially if they had never lived a lifestyle such as the one found in his town. Most couldn't take it; the chems, the brawls, the rough crowd. The meek floundered in Goodneighbor, as much as Hancock wanted the place to be a refuge for all. But for the softskin, the ghoul felt more than pity. It was reminiscent of the time he woke up from his most infamous drug binge and gazed upon the clothes of the original John Hancock. He looked at that vault girl and knew there was something that drew him to her, just like his red frock coat. He just didn't know what it was yet.
"Heard over the radio that she started some new settlements with the Minutemen, bringin' 'em back and all that sorta shit. She's good and we need more like her out here. You want your damn tab paid off or not?" Hancock asked. MacCready grinned as he stuck out his palm and they shook hands before he took off up the stairs after Betty.
Inside her new employer's residence, a cleaned and patched up Betty walked down the stairs into the basement. The ghoul woman sat at a table, looking over a large map, muttering to herself as she traced a certain pattern over and over again on the paper.
Betty cleared her throat and said in a low voice, "I hope I didn't keep you waiting for long."
The ghoul woman looked up and asked, "Ready to get to work? You'll get plenty of exercise working for me, because you're gonna be doing some digging."
"For what? Buried treasure?" Betty asked with a chuckle.
"You could call it that, but seriously, lay off the questions," Bobbi said with a growl. She handed Betty the one hundred caps as promised and said, "The other two are down there digging already. Go give 'em a hand, will ya?"
Bobbi stood up and reached for a pack of cigarettes before pointing at the door. Filled to the brim with questions, Betty thought it best to do as she was paid and pushed through the door to the big dig down beneath the basement. The stone path was cramped and Betty was forced to lean down a bit in certain areas to spare herself from a head injury. Dust drifted down all around her and she eyed the meager wooden posts that held up the tunnel with caution.
The passage opened up beneath the streets and buildings of Downtown Boston, and Betty heard a man's voice say, "Hey, I think we can finally get through! Want to see what's on the other side?"
Betty found a tunnel worker wearing a hard hat that lit up the area his partner dug away at and smiled at him as she added a friendly wave to her greeting. "Need a hand, boys?"
The worker wearing the hard hat nodded and pointed to a shovel leaning against a wall as the other worker asked, "You think Bobbi'll pay us this week?"
"I don't know, man. It's starting to feel like fucking charity...wait! Did you hear something?"
Betty had just picked up the shovel and followed the men into the tunnel when one shouted, "It's crawling with fuckin' mirelurks! Bail out! Bail out!"
Both of the men shoved past Betty, knocking her to the ground as one shouted, "Bobbi can take this job and shove it! Good luck down there!"
With a sigh, she stood up with her shovel in hand and asked herself, "What the hell is a mirelurk?"
A faint, clicking drifted over to Betty and she peered down over the edge of the stone steps as she searched for the source of the noise. Three large mirelurks, which she realized must've been lobsters and crabs at one point in their existence, crawled out of the newly excavated area and were headed right for her.
"Really? Really?!" Betty shouted. "Is nothing normal out here anymore?"
She threw the shovel at the mirelurks and winced when one snapped the tool clean in two with a click of its pincers. There was no way her handgun would even penetrate their armored bodies and she dove beneath an old generator as one attempted to skewer her. All she had left was her rifle, but she'd have to no-scope it, something she never tried before. All three mirelurks snapped at her as she wedged herself tighter between the generator while she reached for her rifle.
"I'm not dying in this sewer," Betty said to herself before she shoved the barrel of the rifle into the face of the smallest mirelurk and pulled the trigger. Its face broke apart and the creature fell to the stone floor, dead. One of the bugs began to feast on the fresh corpse and she took aim for its face as well before killing it. The third lifted its claws above its head and Betty lashed out with her foot, kicking it onto its back. She rushed from her cover and brought down the heel of her boot several times until there was nothing but dark green goo that remained of its face.
Betty leaned against the wall beside the largest mirelurk and slid down until she sat in the puddle of murky water, out of breath. Bobbi raced down the stairs, took one look at the mess and asked, "What the hell is going on in my tunnel?"
"Your boys ran off and left me to deal with...these things. Would've been nice if you mentioned them," Betty said as she held up her rifle. "I don't know how you expected me to exterminate your little pests here with a long-range rifle. Or a shovel, like that one idiot gave me."
"At least you put up a better fight than those good for nothings, and you stuck around. That means two things: one, you get both of their shares now, and two, you're promoted from tunnel worker to my newest hired gun."
"Thanks?"
"Yeah, yeah, but we'll need one more guy to help us out...an old friend. He'll want a fair share but we saw where being cheap got me. This guy will help us get to where we need to be. Likes gadgets, money, and not much else. I have some business nearby in Diamond City. Take a day or two to rest and then meet me at the noodle stand. Don't go sniffing around in town until we're done there. They don't like ghouls, so I'll be pressed for time, got it?"
"Yeah, I got it," answered Betty.
Diamond City...exactly where she needed to be. The man who could help her find Shaun would be there, but with little money to offer for any help, Betty would be forced to do as Bobbi said until she was paid.
Nearly the entire way to Diamond City, Betty didn't fire a single shot, save for a few straggling feral ghouls and mongrel dogs. As she walked, she heard the unmistakable shot or two of a powerful sniper rifle and then silence before she'd come upon the still warm bodies of raiders and a pair of hulking, green monsters, all shot in the head with single bullet. It was the work of a very skilled marksman. The Sole Survivor felt a chill whenever she came upon another corpse, wondering how far ahead this sharpshooter could be and whether she was a target as well.
By sundown, after following the signs throughout Downtown, Betty reached Diamond City and threw up her hands at the sight of her beloved Fenway Park, which now housed the largest city of the Commonwealth. Gone were the days of hotdogs and beer beneath spring sunshine, now replaced with trip wires and hand grenade bouquets.
A young woman in a red jacket and newsboy cap shouted at an intercom as Betty came closer to the gates, "What d'you mean you can't open the gate? Stop playin' around, Danny! I'm standing out in the open here for cryin' out loud!"
"I got orders not to let you in, Ms. Piper. I'm sorry, just doing my job," said the voice on the opposite end of the intercom.
The young woman crossed her arms and snapped, "Just doing your job? Protecting Diamond City means keeping me out, is that it? 'Ooh, look, it's the scary reporter!' Boo!"
"..I'm sorry, but Mayor McDonough's really steamed, Piper. Sayin' that article you wrote was all lies. Whole city's in a tizzy," explained the man over the intercom.
"You open this gate right now, Danny Sullivan!" the woman shouted with a stomp of her foot. "I freakin' live here!"
Betty tapped the woman's shoulder before she leaned in and whispered, "Play along, okay?"
The woman named Piper smiled and stepped aside, looking Betty over.
"Hello? Can you hear me all right?" Betty shouted into the intercom. "I don't know what's going on with this nutjob out here, but I'm starving and looking for somewhere to blow my hard-earned caps."
"All right, All right, I'll let you in. Piper, I know you're still there. Don't make me regret this."
Piper slapped Betty hard on the back and said, "Thanks for the help!"
"No problem...sorry for that nutjob comment," Betty replied.
The gates opened and as Betty and Piper walked past the ticket counters, they were confronted by a rather large and mustached gray-haired man, who tore the hat off his head and threw it on the ground at the sight of the young reporter.
"Damn it, Piper! Who you let you back inside? I told Sullivan to keep that gate shut!" he shouted. "Y-you devious, rabble-rousing little slanderer! The...the level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I'll have your printer scrapped for parts!"
"Oooh, is that a statement, Mr. McDonough? 'Tyrant mayor shuts down the press?'" mocked Piper.
"You're Mayor McDonough?" Betty asked, speaking up. She may not have spent more than a couple of days in Goodneighbor, but it was more than enough to form her own opinion on the matter.
The mayor adjusted the sleeves of his suit and flattened his tie before he reached out to shake Betty's hand, which she refused, and said, "Yes, ma'am. I humbly apologize for this dirty, little rat here. I assure you, she'll be out of Diamond City in no time."
"I heard of you, when I spent some time at Goodneighbor. You're not the first mayor I've met in this new Commonwealth." Betty explained. Mayor McDonough froze at the mere mention of Goodneighbor. "Now I understand why Mayor Hancock and his people can't stand you. First, you ban ghouls and now you're threatening to ban the press as well? This place should be a hovel in no time. I'd rather take my chances in Goodneighbor, if I'm being honest."
"I didn't take you for a junkie whore-monger like Hancock," McDonough said with a scoff. "I hoped he'd be rotting away by now. If I hear of any trouble you bring in here-"
"-Don't worry, I don't associate with bigots more than I have to," Betty said before she grabbed a laughing Piper's wrist and walked away. She glanced at Piper after dropping her wrist and said, "Sorry about that. I didn't mean you...it's just I hate people like him, and when he said that shit about hoping Mayor Hancock was dead by now...ugh. I've met Hancock, and he's one of the kinder people I've met out here."
"Not a problem, though between you and me, I heard the whore-mongering part is true. Is it?" Piper asked with an amused grin. "A ghoul the women of Goodneighbor and beyond flock to?"
Betty had to laugh at how ridiculous Piper's question sounded but answered, "I'm not really from around here and I don't know him all that well, but he's certainly respected and admired by all in his town."
Piper scratched her chin with the end of her pencil and said, "New in the Commonwealth, eh? Stop by my office sometime. I have a bitchin' idea for an article you'd be perfect for. What's your name?"
"Betty Parker."
"All right, then, Miss Parker. Hope I see ya soon and thanks for getting me in!" said Piper before she left Betty to stare at the entirety of Diamond City.