11: Valentine
Piper had lost count of how many Triggermen she and Hancock (mostly Hancock) had cut through in a maelstrom of close quarters carnage. What had taken her so aback was the discovery that the Triggermen were using a Vault-Tec vault as their hideout. She could hardly believe her eyes when she and Hancock had found themselves wiping out the guards posted near the entrance of Vault One-Fourteen, hidden within the Boston metro. From what she'd gathered on the way in, the vault had never been finished; it was a money sink for Vault-Tec, or so one of Skinny's men had said right before Hancock had turned him into swiss cheese.
The vault was never finished but, more importantly, it had never been occupied. From what Piper had heard of Vault-Tec and their diabolical experiments, she was glad. Piper had no interest in seeing what kind of fucked up psychological torture the old-world scientists of Vault Tec had planned for which ever denizens were intended for Vault One-Fourteen.
She looked up at the Overseer's window from the opposite side of the vault's atrium, watching Hancock creep toward a lone Triggerman that seemed to be bantering with none other than Nick Valentine. Nick was locked in what might have been the office of this vault's all-mighty Overseer, had it ever truly been a vault for more than gangsters.
The Triggerman in question seemed to grow nervous at some comment from Valentine regarding a "black book". His anxiety was cut short, almost literally. He gave a glance to a creaking panel to his left just in time to see a ghoul in the guise of a red-white-and-blue colonial dash toward him with a horrifying amount of grace. Hancock jammed his switchblade into the Triggerman's throat. To the goon's credit, he had some fight left in him- even while swallowing pints of his own blood.
The dying man reached out and grabbed Hancock's collar with one hand, drawing a ten-millimeter with the other. He'd started to draw when Piper, from across the atrium, landed a well placed shot through his ribs. The impact of another lethal wound caused his hand to jitter, the pistol falling to the floor. Hancock yanked the knife free in the opposite direction he'd inserted it, opening the goon's throat in a wave of red. What little fight the man had mustered failed him as he collapsed at Hancock's feet, bubbling out his death rattles.
A fair bit of gore had on the overseer's viewing window. Nick Valentine did not flinch, but the servos that composed his face most certainly formed a grimace. "Thank God for this obscene foot-thick pane of glass. Otherwise, I'd be wearin' that poor bozo."
Piper had begun to make a run to the stairs that led to the other side of the atrium, but Hancock turned and gave her a wave. "No!" He called out. "Keep a watch on the doors below. We've cut a lot of these bastards down but I ain't heard an alarm go off yet. Only a matter of time before they catch wise and turn the tables on us."
Piper couldn't argue with that. She was eager to explain her scheme to Nick but, at this point, she was mostly just shocked she'd even made it this far. I can't believe it, but I'm comin' back Nat. Your crazy scheme's really kicking off. Holy shit, I'm savin' Nick freakin' Valentine. Holy shit, I shot a lotta gangsters.
Hancock looked over the door to the overseer's office. "Alright Nicky, how do I get this thing open?"
"Ah, good, you know my name; I was worried you and whoever your friend were just scavs… Strangely dressed scavs." Nick tapped the far side of the window. "There should be a terminal by the door. That's what muscles-for-brains was using."
Hancock glanced down at the man who's throat he'd ventilated. "He muscles-for-brains?"
Nick considered it. "Well, they all are, I guess. So, if you're not scavs, who are you?"
Hancock gave a chuckle as he sauntered over to the terminal, flicking the keyboard open. He was worried there'd be some technical hoops he'd have to jump through; Hancock's idea of hacking a terminal involved sharp objects and luck. He was pleasantly surprised to find there was an override command preloaded. "What, you don't recognize me? I figured I kinda stand out."
Nick pressed against the glass, staring through the trailing splash of red. "... Bit hard to see through what's left of Dino, but… I can only think of one ghoul in Boston that's gaudy enough to go around dressed like a museum Mannequin. Hancock?"
The door to the overseer's office hissed open. Hancock strode in, arms outstretched. "In the flesh- or what's left of mine, anyway."
"Well," Nick looked with relief at the open door. "You've got more than me, anyway. What the hell's the mayor of Goodneighbor doing here? Oh-" Nick made a sound like a tongue clicking, then rested his spindly fist in the palm of his synthetically fleshed hand. "You're just here to wipe out Skinny's gang I wager. I thought I heard one of them mentioning that things were getting hot in Goodneighbor between you and them."
Hancock chuckled and gestured for Nick to leave the office, which Nick was more than happy to do. "No, that's just a bonus. Diamond City's bravest- and perhaps only- star reporter is the one who staged this little rescue."
Nick threw a baffled look back at Hancock, then across the atrium. Piper, who couldn't quite make out what either was saying, only gave a nervous wave when she realized Nick was staring at her. "Wh-... Piper?" Nick bent over to pick up Dino's pistol, thankful that almost no blood had gotten on it. "Why the hell is-"
"We can talk about it later," Hancock paused, using Dino's shirt to clean the blood off his knife before swinging his shotgun back into his hands. It was lighter than he'd prefer. "For now-"
"Let's make our escape, yeah…" Nick muttered, popping out the pistol's magazine to see how many rounds were left. Together, they bounded for the stairs and began to make their way toward Piper. "How many rounds do you have left in that thing? I can't imagine you and she tip-toed past all of Skinny Malone's boys."
"Not as many rounds as I'd like. Gonna have to actually make sure I know what I'm shooting at. I hate being conservative with my ammo." Hancock thought about it. "Hate being conservative in general, really."
Nick shook his head. "I'm not even gonna try and figure out what box your politics fits into-"
"Gangsters!" Piper screamed before unloading half a magazine of silenced gunfire down into the atrium below.
"Shit!" A voice below screamed. "Broad on the second- Agh!" The voice was cut off by another shot from Piper's pistol. She had only enough time to squeeze out another round before diving backwards, a wall of inaccurate return fire pinging off the walls behind her, turning the atrium into the world's largest migraine factory.
The goons below had not accounted for two more gunmen above. Nick and Hancock made their way over to the railing, hanging over. They unleashed a volley of their own, cutting the invading Triggermen down with only a few shots from each. "They're dead!" Hancock called over to Piper. "Wait- Hang on, that one you shot's still moving."
"Wait, wait-" A voice from below called out. "I c-can show you the way out!"
"Nah, that's ok. I found a brochure on the way in." Hancock fired.
Piper was happy enough to hold up the rear as Valentine and Hancock cleared the path ahead. With all the gangsters they'd shot on the way in, Piper could hardly have imagined there were many more left. Alas, she was unpleasantly surprised to find the flow of violent men in pinstripe suits had not yet reached a trickle. They'd had to kill their way through an entire residential block before they'd finally gotten to a service stairwell that seemed as though it was starting to loop its way back toward the entrance.
She'd expected Nick to ask her what, exactly, the whole heist was about. She could see the curiosity on his face, or at least what she thought curiosity looked like on a half-decayed synth. He hadn't though. Nick and Hancock had put their heads down and went to town turning the remaining leg of their race into a shooting gallery. Piper barely had time to squeeze a shot off before the two comical characters in her party mopped up the opposition. To that end, Piper had no qualms; she'd had enough killing for a lifetime. Maybe ten lifetimes.
Hancock hit the access button to the door at the end of the service hall. It gave only a small, angry beep in reply. "Locked…" Hancock took a step back and raised the shotgun barrel to the door's control box.
Nick stepped in, shoving the barrel to the side. "Whoah, whoah- you can't just blast everything that gets in your way."
"Worked pretty well during my campaign speeches."
"Hilarious- Jesus, if you'd have blasted this thing we'd really be stuck down here. Just calm down for a second and let me take a look at it…" Nick pulled a bobby pin and a screwdriver from his coat pocket, popping open the panel.
Hancock scoffed. "What lock is there to pick?"
"You gotta better plan?" Nick chided.
"Shoot it?"
"I said 'better', jackass."
Piper took this moment of respite to sit down at a terminal desk stationed by the door. She flicked through it idly to see if it had any door overrides, though mostly she was just enjoying a moment of silence. To say her ears were ringing was the understatement of the century; Nick and Hancock's banter was just about the only thing she could hear besides a constant eeeeee and the sound of more gunshots. Their banter put her at ease. They both charged this situation with an overwhelming sense of control. Hancock's carnage, Nick's professionalism, and both of their wit combined had helped Piper to feel as though all of this might turn out ok.
Then, Nick hit something in the door's control box, revealing that which dashed Piper's moment of hope. The door hissed open, revealing two very pissed off triggermen, a pissed off fat man in a tuxedo whom Piper could only guess was Skinny Malone, and some *actually* skinny, sadistic looking broad in a sequin dress with a baseball bat in her hands and a look of incredible violence in her beady eyes.
Hancock began to raise the shotgun, out of instinct if nothing more, but Nick was able to throw a hand over the barrel before bullets could start flying. "Cool it, cool it, they got us dead to rights here."
"Damn right we do!" Skinny Malone spat. His face was red as a tato, his teeth bared. If it weren't for the gun pointed in her general direction, Piper would have found it funny how much Skinny looked like McDonough when he was angry. Skinny jumped the barrel of his gun up a few times. "You- At the terminal! On your damn feet, hands in the air- The lot of you! I don't want no funny business! Drop that shotgun on the ground!"
"Ha-" Hancock smiled humorlessly. "Fat chance. Or, would it be more appropriate to say 'skinny chance' instead?"
"Crackin' wise now, asshole!?" Skinny sneered.
"Just shoot 'em, Skinny!" The broad with the baseball bat screeched. Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, Piper thought. If she had to keep listening to it, part of her kind of hoped Skinny would punch a few keys on that Chicago typewriter he was whipping around.
Skinny gave her a dismissive wave, which earned him a look of righteous fury that he seemed to either not notice or chose to ignore. "What the hell, Nick!? First you're snoopin' around my business, now you've got the mayor of Goodneighbor and some… Some… Whatever the hell you are-" He gestured his barrel at Piper.
Nick, hands raised, shook his head. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't for your two-timing dame, Skinny. Oughta tell her to write home more often."
"Awwww-" Skinny's moll cooed, smiling bloodlessly. "Ashamed ya got beat up by a girl? I'll just run back home to daddy, shall I?"
Skinny gave an annoyed glance her way. Feeling he was losing control of the situation, he shook his head and rattled his gun a bit, retraining it on Valentine. "Shoulda left it alone Nicky! Bringing in Hancock wasn't a good idea. I know we ain't in the old neighborhood no more, but I didn't exactly think you'd be slummin' it with the costumed freak who's grip is slippin' on the only halfway decent place to live around here."
Piper scoffed, despite her fear. Or… Perhaps because of it. "Costumed freak? Says the Halloween display ganger with an ironic name."
Skinny glared. "Watch it, you slimy-"
Ignoring the obvious danger of a machine gun one wrist-flick away from snapping off her lightswitch, Piper pressed more. "What's your real name, anyway? Either your parents were hopeful when they named you 'Skinny', or your real name's probably something like Erwin. Yeah… I bet you're an 'Erwin'."
"I'm warnin' you-"
"I bet your last name's not even Malone. No, shit, I don't think it is- I'm pretty sure I read a Shroud comic with one of the bad guys named Malone-"
Skinny rose the submachine gun up, his face so red- his veins so exposed- Piper was half convinced his head might explode. The other half was convinced that this mouth of hers was- at last- about to get her killed. "That's it! I ain't gonna let two cherry-coat wearin' dickheads covered in bits of my own men sit here and mock me in my own castle!"
"Yeah!" The broad screamed. "Do it, Skinny! Shoot 'em! Kill 'em!"
"Finally-" Hancock sighed, slinging the barrel of his shotgun up.
Pandamonium, utter and absolute, ensued.
Piper saw a burst from Hancock's shotgun nick Skinny's arm and drop the goon to Skinny's right entirely. Skinny belched a report from his submachine gun that went high thanks to Hancock's itching trigger finger and the fresh holes it left in Skinny's arm. Nick, a bit slow on the draw, reached back into his coat to draw the pistol he'd taken off of Dino. The antagonizing dame was faster than anything Piper could have imagined something wearing heels could be; in a flash, she was on Hancock, swinging her bat like a major leaguer with a score to settle.
Nick raised a hand to try to stop her. "Wait- Darla, it doesn't-"
Darla heeded no wisdom from the clockwork dick. Hancock attempted to wheel the barrel of the shotgun toward her before her bat came down, the hollow thunk of wood-on-metal echoing through the entrance of the vault as she grand-slammed the gun out of Hancock's grip.
Piper had begun to draw her pistol when she noticed the only uninjured Triggerman leveling his machine gun their way. "Nick!" She screamed. "Get-"
Too late. An undisciplined finger found the trigger and refused to leave it; an unending spray of forty-five ignited their side of the vault. She saw something hit Nick, sending him flying into the doorframe before going down. Two rounds hit Darla square in the back, causing her to let out a sharp wail as she fell into Hancock's arms. Hancock, ever the gentlemen, raised her higher so that she could take five more rounds intended for him. Piper ducked behind the cover her desk provided, the terminal beside her exploding into a sizzling cloud of warped metal, glass, and circuits.
Piper aimed only vaguely in the gangster's direction as she emptied her magazine. She thought she'd heard him fall to the ground after the fourth or fifth shot, but she didn't stop pulling the trigger until it clicked. By then, she was sure that Hancock had recovered his shotgun.
"Darla!" Skinny wheezed out. He held his injured, bleeding arm.
Hancock had discarded her like the expended shield she'd become, tossing her doll's corpse forward. As Skinny aimed high, Hancock dove low; both fired. Skinny's machine gun exploded the light above the door frame heading deeper into the vault, while Hancock's shotgun exploded Skinny's balls- along with most everything else behind them.
Skinny, who'd already been sitting, slid backwards from the force of the blast. He hit the railing of the vault's entry bridge, dropping the gun to grab at what little remained of the lower half of his body. He made no noise, only puckered his lips and emitted a high whistle from somewhere deep within his lungs. Had she not been cowering, Piper would have seen that the red of his face was starting to change to a hue of bruised, sunset purple.
Hancock clambered to his feet, advancing on Skinny. When the goon that had taken the first shot from Hancock began to stir, groaning as he reached for Skinny's discarded machinegun, Hancock snapped a shot through his brain. The shotgun, obedient as always, loaded a fresh round into the chamber just as Hancock came to hover above Skinny.
Skinny tried to speak, tried to plead, as he threw his bloodied hands up in a sign of mercy and defeat.
"Sorry, can't hear ya." Hancock sneered. "I don't speak 'dipshit'." With the flash of a gun, Skinny Malone- as anyone alive could recognize him- ceased to exist from this world, replaced by something bloody inside of a three piece tuxedo.
The fight had ended almost as quickly as it started. Piper rose slowly from behind the desk, then looked down with wide eyes when she heard a mechanical groan from the doorway. "Nick!" She bolted from the cover of the terminal desk, rushing for the slumped form of Diamond City's greatest synth detective.
Nick was clutching at his abdomen. Anyone in his position might look pained, but then again, anyone in his position would have blood to lose. Something dark and viscous was leaking from Nick, though not very much of it. "I sure do love diplomacy." Nick's voice thoroughly lacked amusement.
Hancock took a deep breath of the smell of gore that filled the room before giving Nick a glance backwards. "What? They were gonna shoot us."
"I could have gotten us out of this…" Nick hissed through clenched metal teeth. "I had a plan."
"So did I." Hancock smiled.
"Enough," Piper scolded. "Both of you. Nick, are you ok?"
Nick sighed and undid the buttons of his shirt, looking down at the spindly motor-looking contraption that was his abdomen. One of the tubes was slit slightly, and a forty-five seemed to be lodged in what passed for Nick's spinal column. "Yeah." Nick said with finality. "Yeah, nothing some duct tape and a bit of tender love and care won't fix."
"I'll… Put some soup on, then…" Piper said, attempting in her own anxious way to lighten the mood.
Nick scoffed and nodded. "Yeah… Don't forget to mix in the Mr. Handy fuel…" When he grabbed at the wall to stand, Piper reached out to help him. Nick waved her away. "No, I've got it, I've got it…" Once standing proper, Nick twisted left, then right. There was a faint clink as the lodged forty-five popped out, tumbling inside of Nick's body before expelling itself out of his left pant leg.
Piper shuddered.
Hancock crouched down, flipping through the remains of what had been Skinny Malone. "And I'm fine too, thanks for asking."
Nick had shown Piper and Hancock a way out of the sewers that didn't take them back beside Swan's Pond, something Piper would be eternally grateful for. A service hatch, part of the unfinished section of the tunnel outside of the vault, led them outside. Piper had never been so relieved to breathe in the smell of Boston when the three of them poured out into the alley.
Nick seemed to visibly relax. If he had muscles, they'd almost all have gone slack. "Well that was… Not how I imagined that job going."
Hancock popped the magazine on his shotgun open, feeling the weight, judging how many rounds he had left. "How the hell'd you end up down there anyway? Who was the crazy moll with the bat?"
Nick frowned, deeply, and sighed. "That… Was who I was hired to look for. Daddy's little runaway… They thought Skinny had kidnapped her. Surprise surprise when I went snooping and she rounded the corner on me like a tigress, beat the sensors out of me with that wicked bat of hers. Thought I was gonna die before Skinny pulled her off. Girl's got a mean swing… Or… She had a mean swing." Nick furrowed his brow a bit and looked up to Hancock. "Was going full cowboy really necessary back there?" He paused to look at Piper. "And that lip from you- that wasn't helping."
Hancock smiled and gave a shrug. "They had a lotta firepower on us Nick, and that bitch- broad was absolutely psycho. I feared for my life. Can you blame me?" Hancock's voice was oozing with feigned innocence.
Nick grimaced. "I can- and I do." He looked at Piper. "But you, what was with all the mockery? Riling the man up like that? You were itching to catch a bullet that badly?"
Piper's face grew red as a hint of shame fell over her. "I-... No, I… I have a big mouth sometimes and… They had guns on us. I got nervous. I talk when I get nervous. I yell, I poke fun, I try and be the bigger person-"
"Oh yeah," Nick interrupted with a laugh. "Real moral high ground there, mocking a very dangerous man's name."
"It was a pretty stupid name-" Hancock muttered, mostly ignored by the other two.
"No-" Piper grunted in frustration, running a hand over her face. "I mean, I try to seem like the bigger personality. Try and… Not take control, but force control? It's a nervous reaction, I didn't mean to- I didn't want to kill anyone! It's just, they were pissing us off and she was screaming and he's just so fat and what kind a name is Skinny Malone and-"
Hancock put a hand on Piper's shoulder. "Hey, hey, breathe flat cap. Breathe."
Piper smacked his hand away. "God- Don't call me a flat cap, just… For pete sake, just call me Piper…" She took take a deep breath, however, moving to pop a squat on a pile of bricks that almost made for a not-entirely-awful chair.
Hancock looked at Nick. "Things went sideways,shit happened, we're all alive; lay off her. I'm happy enough to take the blame for this if someone needs blaming. But Nicky, you oughta show at least a little gratitude to your knights in red leather armor, yeah?"
Nick sighed, nodding. He took the fedora off his head, which even Hancock found to be a bit jarring. Without the hat, it really came across just how non-human Nick truly was. "You're right." Nick nodded. "Thank you. I'm just not looking forward to telling her parents how this all went down."
Hancock gave a 'hmm' and an understanding nod. "Doubt they'll pay after hearing I used her as a human shield."
Nick made an annoyed clicking noise like a tongue in a cheek might, along with a dismissive wave. "A girl's dead, Hancock. I don't care about the caps. I care about having to deliver that kind of bad news."
"Want me to-"
"Hell no."
"Probably a good idea…"
Nick straightened his faded trench coat and took a long look to the sky above them, which was mostly consumed by the buildings that sandwiched the alley. Nick put his trilby back on and looked down to Piper. "Didn't mean to rip you up... I'm sorry. But… What the hell were you two doing down there anyway- how'd you know to look for me?"
Piper propped her head up on her fist. Nick was a very fancy tin can and Hancock had more Jet than air running through his body, but Piper was all-American blood and bone. The adrenaline from that slaughter- to call it a fight would be an injustice- had worn her down. She worked at the straps of her plate carrier, trying not to glance down at the two fresh dents that hadn't been on her armor prior to her descent into the station. "Ellie…"
Nick smiled a warm, loving smile and rocked his head back. "Ah… I really need to give her a raise. But… Why you? Why him? You're not a mercenary and he's not even from Diamond City."
Piper felt no need to withhold the truth from Nick. When she had her air back and drank her fill from a canteen that Hancock had been wise enough to bring (and kind enough to fill with just water), she laid it all out for Nick. The Synthetic Truth, her expulsion from Diamond City, Nat's plan to get her back in with Nick as her trump card, her run in with Hancock in Goodneighbor; the whole thing. She'd even been honest about almost getting crushed by Swan as well as holding first place in "how fast it took to get mugged" in Hancock's charming berg.
Nick listened intently, listened in a way that Piper truly felt heard. She imagined this is what it was like to talk to a man who, in fact, was paid to absorb every detail that came out of a person's mouth. This was a detective. Piper wondered if detectives might make better press than the actual press. When she finished, Nick gave a long, sympathetic nod. "Calling McDonough out like that was…"
"Stupid." Piper said, hanging her head. "Yeah… I know."
"No," Nick shook his head. "It was… Brave. That is, if you really meant it. Do you actually think he's a synth, Piper, or were you just raking him through the mud because he's unlikable and less of a civil servant than the Declaration of Narcotic Dependence over there?"
Hancock threw his hands up. "Hey!"
Piper shook her head. "I… I don't know. Maybe he's not a synth, but it's obvious he's the one getting the guards to turn a blind eye to all the disappearances going on in the city. Him kicking out ghouls was pandering to the Stands- shitty mayor behavior, but the kind of shitty mayor behavior you come to expect."
Hancock scoffed. "Am I really just incredibly handsome wallpaper over here, or-"
Piper carried on as if that's exactly what Hancock was. "But him calling off basically every missing person's case when all security has for jobs these days is patting down what few newcomers and traders make their way in? Uh-uh… Nick, that just doesn't make sense to me. Does it make sense to you?"
"No." Nick was quick to reply. "No, it doesn't. I've felt something fishy might be going on, but… Y'know. All those missing persons cases gotta fall somewhere; if it's not security, it's me. Been too busy to look into it. I'm glad you posted that article, Piper; I can't wait to give it a read when we get back." Nick Valentine reached out, giving Piper's arm an affirming squeeze. "And I mean we. If we don't walk through that big rusty gate together, than neither one of us is walking back in. If you think Nat can raise a stink, sister, you haven't seen Ellie."
Piper looked to Nick with unbridled admiration. She'd hated to admit it to herself, but she'd been weary of him for the same reason most folk were; he was, undeniably, a synth. He sure as hell didn't try to hide what he was, nor did he feel any particular shame for it. For a while she struggled to believe he was even a person but… Now? How could he be anything else? Nick extended a hand down to her and Piper took it, feeling far more firm in her conviction and steady on her course.
"Boy," Hancock slung his shotgun over his shoulder. "McDonough's fucked when you two get back, that's for sure."
Nick turned to face Goodneighbor's esteemed public representative. "So… Why'd you help Piper? I mean, really?"
Hancock frowned a bit. "She told you my truth- the truth. You're a good man, Nick Valentine. I can't imagine you remember me when I lived in Diamond City- I was rocking a far less inspiring personality along with far less inspiring duds. But you? I knew you. A man like you deserves help from good, occasionally blood thirsty, samaritans when the time arrives. The fact that it was Triggerman-ass I got to kick was just the cherry on top."
Nick cocked a half smile. "I almost feel bad for all the snide shit I have to say about you ninety-nine percent of the time, Hancock."
"Almost?"
"Yeah, almost; don't pander."
Both of them laughed. Piper felt herself grinning, smiling, then laughing as well. All of this had felt like a crackpot scheme from the get-go; hair-brained and desperate. Everything that could have gone wrong did- and spectacularly at that. It felt like something was changing. Piper tried to refrain from imagining the kind of place Diamond City might look like if she had someone like Nick Valentine in her corner, both of them strutting back in. She'd be a hero with a method of delivering thought-provoking fact, rather than just…
…Piper. Said always with a sneer, or a roll of the eye, or a trace of bewildered skepticism. For some, with genuine hatred. Just Piper. She wondered, her smile unwavering; how will people say my name a week from now?