"Hey! Where are you going?!"
The red haired child's footsteps make no sound as she runs after Willow, who is storming aimlessly through the streets of Goodneighbour. The girl pouts, before picking up her pace to catch up with Willow. "Willow! Stop!" she raises her voice. "Are you even listening to me?!"
"Shut up!" Willow hisses, and two men passing her by stop and turn their heads.
"What was that?!" one of them snaps, and Willow shoots an apologetic look over her shoulder, before she hurries to duck down an alleyway. Thankfully, the men don't turn and follow her.
The little girl is relentless. Even as Willow turns down the alley, she is still nagging at her. "Sadie gave you those caps for a reason, you know."
"I don't care." Willow whispers, her eyes scanning the darkness to be sure she is alone, "I don't like him."
"You don't even know him!" the child protests, and Willow stops to lean against a cool stone wall and dig her cigarettes from her pocket. She lights one and takes a long drag, then coughs into her elbow and shakes her head in irritation. After another puff, she sighs and slides down the wall, falling gracelessly onto her ass and hanging her head. Her cigarette dangles precariously through her fingers as she rests her arms up on her knees. It is cold out tonight; a stark reminder that winter is approaching in the Commonwealth. The younger girl hesitates a moment, and then moves to sit next to her, her arm brushing against Willow's.
"You need him, Willow." she says softly, and Willow shakes her head.
"I don't need anyone. I can do this myself." Willow snaps softly, refusing to meet her companion's gaze.
"You can't." the child speaks gently and reaches out to grab Willow's arm. "They'll kill you, Willow. And then... Then what was the point of it all?"
A silence hangs between the two. Willow sniffles – the cold is making her nose run. She takes another drag of her cigarette and then shields her face as a gust of wind rips through the alleyway. When she feels something hit her leg, she looks down, and picks off of her the Diamond City newspaper which has wrapped itself around her calf.
She nearly tosses it back down the alleyway, but something in it catches her eye and she hastily stops herself, her fingers tightening desperately around the paper. She shifts, pulling the newspaper in and straightening it out against her thigh. Buried among the classifieds and advertisements is a small notice for a missing child. Maggie O'Hearn. Last seen March 6th, 2280. Please see Rosa Quinn or Detective Valentine with any information.
Willow sits frozen, her heart heavy as her eyes remain fixed on the picture of the girl in the paper – the same girl who sits beside her. She hasn't aged. She hasn't changed at all since that fateful day. She is frozen in time, cursed to remain this way for eternity. And Willow knows there is only one way to lay her to rest.
A small hand, dainty and pale, covers the photo, and Willow turns her head to meet Maggie's big, green eyes. "Please, Willow." she pleads softly. "For me."
The overwhelming weight of responsibility suffocates Willow, but she knows what she has to do, and so she tosses the newspaper into the alleyway and pulls herself to her feet. She looks down at the girl beside her, who is watching her expectantly.
"For you." she says, then smiles softly. "You little asshole."
Maggie giggles triumphantly and leaps to her feet. "For us." she corrects her, to which Willow does not respond. She pulls in one last puff from her smoke and flicks it into the alley, before she turns and heads back toward the Third Rail.
When she returns to the Third Rail, she doesn't hesitate – she's steadfast, her gait confident as she heads straight for the VIP Lounge. But she stops in the red-lit hallway again when she hears voices that are not MacCready's in the other room.
"I'm just here to deliver a message." says a deep, gravelly male voice, and Willow tucks herself against the wall, holding her breath as she eavesdrops.
MacCready stands before two men, looking somewhere between apathetic and annoyed. "In case you forgot, I left the Gunners for good." he says.
"Yeah, I heard," the man responds, "But you're still taking jobs in the Commonwealth. That isn't going to work for us."
"I don't take orders from you!" MacCready snaps, his voice raising momentarily before he regains his composure. "Not anymore. So why don't you take your girlfriend and walk out of here while you still can."
"What? Winlock, don't tell me we have to listen to this shit..." a second voice, Barnes, interjects, and Willow thinks it may be the man from the street whom she had accidentally told to shut up...
"Listen up, MacCready," Winlock speaks over the second man, and MacCready crosses his arms, hardened eyes boring straight into him, "The only reason we haven't filled your body full of bullets is that we don't want a war with Goodneighbour." He takes an imposing step toward the merc, who stands his ground. "See, we respect other people's boundaries. We know how to play the game. It's something you never learned."
"Glad to have disappointed you."
"Listen. You can play tough guy all you want. But the minute we hear you're still operating inside of Gunner territory again, all bets are off." Winlock says, and MacCready scoffs and draws in a short breath to retort. But before he can, Willow steps into the doorway of the room and leans her shoulder against the wall.
"Wow, that's pathetic." she snorts in amusement, arms crossing. MacCready raises an eyebrow, surprised to see her back so soon. Winlock and Barnes turn to watch her now, so she gives them her best smug look and crosses one leg over the other. "Do you really feel that threatened by one dude, operating out the back of a bar in Goodneighbour? I'm sure there's no shortage of mercenary work here, so tell me... Are you guys that bad at your jobs?"
She snickers. "Typical Gunners." Now, she's just stirring the pot. Barnes frowns, and looks almost like a vicious dog ready to attack, but Winlock puts his arm out in a bid to stop him from acting out.
"I would suggest you walk away, ma'am. This doesn't concern you." he says, his tone vaguely threatening, but Willow blows air from her nose.
"Actually, I'm a patron here. Y'know, coming to enjoy the VIP Lounge, use it as it's intended to be used, all that kinda stuff." she says, and boldly meanders into the room, arms swinging far too casually as she heads past the three men and towards a couch against the far wall. She can hear her heart thumping in her ears, yet she remains outwardly aloof as she flops onto the couch and crosses one leg over the other, eyes on Winlock. "And you're really throwing off the vibes in here. No offense!" she laughs as if it were all one big game.
MacCready narrows his eyes, then glances back to the Gunners who seem done with Willow now as they turn back to him.
"Are we finished here?" MacCready asks them, and Winlock scoffs.
"Yeah. We're finished. Let's go, Barnes." he barks and turns to leave. Barnes gives Willow a comminatory look which she promptly ignores as she picks dirt from beneath her nails.
When both men are gone, MacCready turns his attention back to Willow and watches her for a moment. "Back so soon, huh? Did you finally see the light?" he asks smugly, and Willow has to stop herself from rolling her eyes at his unrelenting arrogance.
"Yeah, I'm back, but see... Now I'm not so sure about hiring you after what I just saw." she replies, her eyes flicking to him only briefly before she goes back to her nails.
"If you're worried about Winlock and Barnes, don't be. They couldn't hit a squirrel with a rocket launcher."
"Mmm. I don't know." Willow muses, lips quirking into a small grin. MacCready crosses his arms. "I bet it coulda got real bad if I hadn't gotten here when I did."
"Believe me, I had it under control—"
"I think you should go ahead and deduct 50 caps from your asking price on account of the fact that I just saved your ass." she speaks assertively, a mischievous grin fighting for a spot on her face now.
MacCready stares at her a moment, dumbfounded, and then laughs. "Ohoho, I see." he sounds amused, and Willow finally looks up at him in time to see him walking slowly toward her. She stands and straightens out her coat, then crosses her arms. "Fine. I respect the hussle." he quips. "200 caps."
He holds out his hand for a handshake, and Willow stares down at it for a moment before meeting his eyes again.
"175?"
"Don't push your luck."
Willow laughs and relents, shaking his hand. Her grip is firm, her hand rough and cold. "200 it is." she says, and steps back to dig the caps from her bag. MacCready watches her with mild admiration, and accepts the caps as she hands them off to him, neatly rolled and bundled just as Sadie had given them to her.
As MacCready counts the caps quickly, Willow grabs her journal and flips it open to a bookmarked page. The book is weathered, well loved and full of doodles and magazine clippings and terrible poetry. But this is the most important page in her journal. This is Maggie's list.
There are eight names in total, four of which have already been crossed off. There are notes written in the margins, mostly pertaining to the whereabouts of each name on the list or other relevant details. One line says 'Neil Stout – Quincy?' and has a big red arrow pointing to it, and scribbled in messy writing beside it were the words 'FUCK THAT!'. Willow isn't ready to try Quincy out again – not without first knowing what MacCready is capable of. So, her eyes pass by the name as she searches for the perfect first target.
MacCready peers over her shoulder at the list of names, and he is curious but he doesn't ask about them. It's not his place, he figures, and Willow appreciates this. A long, slender finger lands on a name in the middle of the list: Randall Yung.
"Him first." Willow states, tapping the name with her fingernail. "He's a raider. Last I heard, his gang was holed up at the Corvega Assembly Plant. Probably a whole lot of raiders there..." She glances to MacCready, raising an eyebrow. "You up to the task?"
"Am I up to the..." MacCready mutters, rolling his eyes lightly, and Willow smirks. "You just lead the way, and I'll take care of the rest." he says with conviction.
Willow laughs. She is still not thrilled about having to hire a mercenary to help her, or about having to travel and work with this man she doesn't know. But she feels a sense of... relief, or perhaps hope, that she will be able to see everything through with a little help – maybe even much sooner than she had anticipated. As much as she hates to admit it, she is starting to think maybe Sadie and Maggie had been right all along.
"You'd better not let me down." she threatens though her tone is merely playful. MacCready smirks.
"Don't worry. I wasn't planning on it." he says, and Willow grins.
"Good."