A/N: I own nothing except the laptop I wrote this story on.
Piper took a deep breath. They were in the mayor's office once again, and this time there was an even more palpable tension in the air than from the very first day. She was glad that she was sitting off to the side of the proceedings: well within earshot yet out of the line of sight of the major players. That Brotherhood Scribe…what was her name? Haden? Haylen? Yeah, that was it. Scribe Haylen was sitting right next to her, with her own notebook and writing utensils out as well. She had given Piper a kind smile when they'd both walked into the room, so she couldn't be all that bad. Though, then again, sometimes the sweetest of places were often the most dangerous. Piper had plenty of memories of Covenant that she'd like to forget.
"I'd prefer to get things moving, instead of whatever ridiculous posturing we spent on the first day." Elder Maxson spoke, getting everyone's attention. They'd been at it for a few hours, mostly discussing whatever information of the day that was relevant to both sides and yet completetly inconsequential to the peace talks at hand. In other words, the safe stuff that would not make anyone made. "So, for the sake of progress, I would prefer that we actually start talking about the Commonwealth's future. Specifically, the Institute."
"What is there to talk about?" Hancock asked. "It's a crater right now."
"I was not talking to you." Maxson said, positively sneering at the Ghoul. At this, Hancock took great offense.
"What are you suggesting? That because I'm not a smoothskin like you, I'm not prone to rational decisions? That I'm a few moments away from going feral? Is that what you think?" The Ghoul growled.
"It is always a possibility." Proctor Quinlan said. Piper knew that he was speaking in the manner of a scientist: from a technical standpoint, he was absolutely correct. Ghouls did eventually go feral after a certain point…but that was only if they were exposed to high levels of radiation. Otherwise, there were plenty of cases where they were able to live a very long life without the fear of going feral.
However, this was not a laboratory, but a social setting. And that was probably not the best thing to say.
"Are you kidding me?" Hancock growled. Piper saw him reaching under the desk, and she paled. Hancock wasn't nearly crazy enough to draw-
"Mayor Hancock, settle down." Blue said calmly. "Proctor Quinlan was speaking in general scientific speculation. He was not making a speculation on your case." At this, Blue turned to Proctor Quinlan. "I'd recommend that you be careful with your words, Proctor. Not everyone can be on the same scientific wavelength as you."
"And I'd recommend that you watch your tongue in speaking to Proctor Quinlan." Elder Maxson fired back. "He is a critical element of the Brotherhood, and I will not tolerate abusive language towards him."
"Just as I will not tolerate abusive language towards the mayor of Goodneighbor."
"How is it that a Ghoul is the current mayor of a city?" Maxson asked. "That is something that I am simply dying to know."
"Then perhaps let's make that the focus of today's talks." Blue said. "Goodneighbor, Hancock, and Ghouls in the Commonwealth." He turned towards Hancock. "You have any objections to that?"
Hancock was still glowering at Quinlan, who was trying his best to disappear, but he shook his head.
"No objections, chief."
"See?" Blue said, gesturing to Hancock. "My friend here can be reasonable."
"The outfit is a bit…gauche." Proctor Ingram said. "If you don't mind me asking…Hancock, where did you get it?" There was a certain hesitance in the woman's words as she said the Ghoul's name, and it did not go unnoticed by Piper. Hancock shrugged.
"It's the duds of an old American hero." He said.
"So you stole historical property?" Maxson asked accusatorily. Hancock smirked.
"Stealing is such an ugly word. I found it, no one was going to use it and the Muties were probably gonna raze the place anyway. And John Hancock isn't someone who deserves to get forgotten by the blood-stained pages of history, y'know what I'm saying?"
"I am unfamiliar with John Hancock." Maxson said, with a stone-cutting glare. Hancock actually chuckled.
"Seriously? He was one of America's Founding Fathers." He gestured over to Blue. "Tell this flyboy who John Hancock was."
Everyone seemed a little bit concerned at how Maxson would react to the flippant way Hancock had addressed the Brotherhood Elder. But Maxson made no sign that he was displeased. If anything, Piper thought she saw a little appreciative glint in the man's eye, even if he did not smile. He was clearly proud of that furry jacket he was wearing, and the fact that Hancock had noticed it clearly impressed him.
Blue cleared his throat.
"John Hancock was one of the Founding Fathers. A tireless worker, not necessarily the biggest piece of the puzzle, and very proud of himself and flamboyant."
"That describes yours truly to a tee." Hancock said. "Look, Maxson. I get where you're coming from: ferals are the scum of the earth, and they contribute nothing to society but sleepless nights. But there are a hell of a lot of people who still have their brains that don't appreciate being lumped into the same category." He glowered. "Myself included."
Maxson was silent for a few moments. Once again, Piper was drawn to the incredibly stern look etched across the man's face. Finally, he spoke.
"Let us assume that I am willing to listen to…Hancock's arguments. Where is the proof that I can trust? How can I know for certain that the atmosphere of Goodneighbor is better off with a Ghoul in leadership?" He asked. There was a measured tone in his voice.
"What exactly are you looking for, perfect peace?" Hancock grunted. "There's no such thing in the Commonwealth, and you know that. But I can tell you for certain that I'm a damn sight better at this job than the last guy was."
"Was he voted out of office?" Proctor Ingram asked. Hancock shrugged.
"In a manner of speaking." He said.
Piper tried not to smile.
"Are you looking for specific statistics to track?" Blue spoke up, after a few moments to gather his thoughts. "Because while crime is difficult to keep track of, I'm sure there are other ways to prove that Goodneighbor is a prosperous community."
"Such as?" Maxson asked.
"The business side." Hancock said, sensing what Blue was getting at. "You mugs might not like mine, but even you can understand the flow of caps, right? I tell you, outside of Diamond City, Goodneighbor is the most prosperous hub in the Commonwealth." Hancock smirked. "Look, there's no reason that we can't help each other here. Goodneighbor has good gun stores and lodging for people. There's no shortage of space. And…it's pretty close to your base of operations, isn't it?"
Those last words hung over the air of the room. Maxson leered at Hancock.
"What are you suggesting?" He asked.
"You've been trying to establish a presence in the Commonwealth for some time now." Blue said. "And yet as we speak the only settlements you've come across are the Boston Airport and the Prydwen. If you were looking to expand out further, then Goodneighbor is relatively close."
"Yeah…" Hancock said. "Yeah, I can dig it. Goodneighbor isn't lacking for guns and defense, but to have a couple of your tin cans walking around with those big badass guns of yours? Some of the less-able people in the city might be better able to sleep at night. I know I would."
"This is a rather sharp turn." Maxson said. "Just a few moments ago, you were getting worked up over a perceived slight towards you…Hancock."
Piper noticed that it still seemed to be difficult for the man to verbalize the Ghoul's name as if that was his proper identifier, and not just "Ghoul." She wondered how he was able to go to the bathroom, with that stick wedged so tightly up his-
"And yet now you're offering to let Brotherhood operations open up in Goodneighbor." Elder Maxson continued, distracting the reporter from her inner thoughts. "That's a fairly generous offer…but why would I be willing to accept it? What's in it for me?"
Hancock grinned, and cracked his knuckles reflexively. To be perfectly honest, Piper was surprised that the things could still crack.
"Think about it, Maxie." He said. Even Blue had to blink in surprise at the flippant way that Hancock was referring to the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel. Even Proctor Ingram seemed stunned. Piper internally groaned. This was, quite possibly, the worst time for Hancock to start tripping on whatever the hell it was that he had taken earlier this morning. But there was no stopping the Ghoul now. He was in the middle of one of his best sales pitches.
Maxson, to his credit, was not visibly disturbed. He was instead listening intently to what the Ghoul was saying, resting his head on his knuckles, his mouth obscured. He was staring intently, but he was not glaring. It was a subtle difference, but Piper noticed it all the same. "You've got yourself some great apartments in the edges of the place, as well as an easier route to Bunker Hill instead of having to swing around to the north and then across the bridge. You're likely to run into Deathclaws if you keep running north and then back down. Take it from a guy that's been up and down that area of the Commonwealth too many times: you're gonna lose too many men on the journey just trying to get around the Deathclaws."
"Go on." Maxson said. It was an incredible admission. Piper could scarcely believe her eyes. She knew that Hancock was a bit of a sweet-talker. That was one of his best abilities, and while she might have a gift for gab it was clear that Hancock was very able at getting people to listen to him. He'd been put in as mayor of Goodneighbor for a reason, after all.
"Glad you're seeing things my way." Hancock grinned. "And think about it this way. Goodneighbor is right in the center of the action. You're looking for ways to get your Brotherhood boys and girls some battle action here in the Commonwealth, right?" He took the Elder's silence as a motion to continue. "Goodneighbor's a stone's throw from Trinity Tower and Trinity Plaza. The Muties own that shit. It'd be awfully nice target practice for some of your more long-distance soldiers, know what I mean? And plenty of strung-out raiders that would be great practice against some of your less-tested soldiers. You get some experience for your people, and we get to sleep a little bit at night."
"So you're offering us potential stationing in Goodneighbor." Maxson said. "In addition to that, you're suggesting that you will get peace of mind in exchange for the Brotherhood using the trade routes from Bunker Hill and target practice against those scum Super Mutants." He folded his arms across his chest. "That's quite a generous offer. You haven't even suggested that we pay rent."
"I'm shit with numbers. I figure that Chief here or your tech wiz can come up with a suitable exchange rate with the farmers and traders and all that." Hancock said. "I'm just a facilitator."
"It would be nice to have another place to park our Vertibirds other than just on the Prydwen and in the airport." Proctor Ingram admitted. Elder Maxson shot her a glare for breaking party rank, but there was not nearly the malice that he could have put into it. He turned back to Hancock.
"Fair enough. But I get the feeling that there is more that you want us to concede to." Maxson said. "Just out with it."
"Fine. Since you're the direct type and all that." Hancock said, steepling his fingers together. "I want Ghoul emancipation."
There was dead silence. Maxson looked like he'd taken a bite of some bad Mutfruit.
"Excuse me?" He asked.
"I'm not asking for much." Hancock said. "I just want an assurance that your people treat Ghouls like me – you know, the ones that can talk, think, and contribute to the community – like regular human beings."
Maxson looked like he'd been told to shave off his beard.
"How can I trust that you won't go feral over time?" Maxson said.
"That's misinformation and you know it." Hancock growled. "Ask your egghead over there. There is plenty of evidence to suggest that us Ghouls can live as long-contributing members of society and that we won't go feral. Feral Ghouls and plain ol' Ghouls are like comparing Mutfruit with Deathclaws: there is no comparison and it hurts my head to even consider it."
There is silence. And then Maxson speaks.
"And what if I say no? What if I say I don't buy that?" Maxson asked.
"Then we're back to square one." Blue said. "We stand here measuring our dicks and when it comes down to it, you have to believe that you can get Liberty Prime fired up before I can put one shot in the Prydwen. Is that a bet you want to make?"
There is silence again.
"It's not like we're asking for acceptance into your military." Hancock said, a frown on his face. "Because most of us Ghouls are shit fighters. We're just asking that we be able to go about our day in peace without the worry that you metalheads are gonna shoot us because we looked at you funny."
"Good, because there are no Ghouls in the Brotherhood armed forces." Maxson said. "But as for the rest of your proposal…" He tapped his chin with his finger. "…We shall consider it." He looked at Blue. "We've been at this for a while. I propose a recess. We'll convene at a later time. I will send a messenger to your place of residence." Maxson said to Blue. "To where shall I send them?"
"The Publick Occurences." Blue said, and Piper tried to hide her blush. "I'll be there all night."
"Good. If that's everything, then?" Maxson asked. Blue nodded, and with that the Brotherhood delegation took their lead. Scribe Haylen gave Piper a pleasant little wave, and then followed the rest of the group out the door. As soon as they were gone, Hancock turned towards Blue.
"Why the hell didn't you say anything more, Chief? I was left hanging out there!"
"If I'd spoken for you, then Maxson would have even less belief in your credibility." Blue said, taking a sip from his bottle of Gwinnett Stout. "But as it stands, you, a Ghoul, managed to talk the Brotherhood of Steel Elder to a standstill." He took another pull from his beer, and looked at the mayor of Goodneighbor. "That's not an easy task, even for someone like me."
"But he didn't even agree to anything!" Hancock grumbled.
"No. But he said that he'd think about it. That's the first step." Blue said. "You might not release it, because you weren't on the Prydwen with me, but Arthur Maxson is very assured in his beliefs. Getting him to even consider another opinion on a subject is tantamount to a miracle, Hancock."
"What makes you say that?" Hancock asked, though he was no longer as belligerent.
Blue's response sent a cold shiver down Piper's gut.
"Because if he wasn't capable of seeing another person's opinion, then he would have had Danse killed."
...
"Oh, Monsieur Danse, do you have a moment?"
Danse looked up from his desk. Well, really it wasn't his desk but the General's desk, but as long as he was the acting leader of the Castle he supposed that he could allow himself the creature comfort of calling it his desk. He just made sure not to let the power go to his head. But he shook his head from his thoughts and stared at the Synth in the doorway. Curie was dressed in typical rancher clothing: that flannel shirt and faded blue jeans that she loved so much.
"What is it, Curie?" He asked, somewhat brusquely. The twinkle in Curie's eyes faded a bit, and for the first time Danse felt like he was in the wrong for being so terse with her. So he tried again. "Sorry, I'm in the middle of writing a letter."
"Oh, a letter? How wonderfully whimsical!" Curie said, walking over to the desk. "What are you writing about?"
"It's for the General." Danse said, in a tone that he hoped would keep her from peeking. He hated when people spied on him and his work. "Professional Minutemen business."
"Ah, I see." Curie said. "Well, if you are not too busy, the others are gathered up on the ramparts for dinner, and I was wondering if you would join us?"
"I'm awfully busy, Curie." Danse said.
"Oh…" Curie's face fell. "I shall tell Mademoseille Cait the news that there is one less mouth to feed tonight."
She turned around and started to walk away. She was halfway to the door when he spoke again.
"Curie, wait."
She turned back around to face him. He wasn't sure, but for the first time in a while he was feeling guilty that he wasn't about to join the others. Usually he had some convenient excuse. He was too busy. He had to take care of something. He was on duty. All technically correct. But in the end…it was probably a coping mechanism. He'd been terse to the majority of them in the past, and it was just by the grace of fate that they hadn't hated him when he was revealed to be a Synth and a hypocrite. Why hadn't they just cast him out like Maxson had, so callously? He was an abomination…wasn't he?
But then he remembered talking to the boy the previous night, and for the first time in a long time he decided that perhaps he was wrong about something.
"…Is Cait preparing her Brahmin stew?" Danse asked somewhat hesitantly. Curie blinked in surprise, clearly not expecting the man to be interested. But then she recovered.
"Um…oui! She is making her Brahmin stew, and Monsieur Codsworth has baked some razorgrain loaf as a side."
Danse's stomach was growling, and he looked at his letter. He was almost done with the thing, and Chibs deserved a rest after running back from Diamond City to the Castle in the span of a few hours.
"Alright, I'm coming out." He said.
A/N: A brief one this time, but I figured this was good for as far as the plot required. Maxson is considering the most recent proposal from Blue and the gang, but at the same time it is no guarantee. Hancock was being quite generous for wanting so little. Will it be enough to get over Maxson's prejudice? We'll see…
Also, more Danse in the Castle. He's one of my favorite characters in Fallout 4, and I wish that the developers had expanded upon his story a little bit more. But that's what we're here for, right?
Till next time!