7: Good Neighbor

When Piper had laid her hand on the rather humble door on Goodneighbor's gate, she hadn't expected it to simply open with no resistance what-so-ever. Yet, here she was, standing halfway in the doorframe, looking like something that had crawled out of a pool of toxic sludge (oh wait, she had), making awkward eye contact with a singular guard leaned up against a lamppost with a submachine gun resting on the ground beside him. He, at least, paused the lighting of his cigarette to stare at Piper whilst she stared at him.

"... Are you gonna fuckin' come in, or not?" The sentry gestured at Piper with his lighter.

Piper, suddenly feeling the full weight of not-belonging, gave the moonlit wasteland behind her a final glance before slumping inside, closing the door behind her. Everyone talked up how dangerous Goodneighbor was, how likely you were to get stabbed or shot for the caps in your pocket, but anything beat trudging through the Boston Commons. The rain had stopped shortly after she'd escaped Swan's pond, but that didn't mean that the trek was any less grueling, especially with her bum knee. It had grown from a dull ache to a raging fire; she desperately needed a stimpak.

Piper paced a moment before walking toward the guard. He sighed as she did, having clearly hoped she might simply clear off in some other direction once she was past the gate, not walk up and try chatting. "Hey," Piper hugged her soiled leather coat closer to herself. "I'm lookin' for-"

The guard raised a hand to stop her. "You want guns? KL-E-O's is right behind me, she's open 24/7." Piper glanced behind the guard and, indeed, saw an assaulttron standing dutifully in a shop that looked bristling with all sorts of nasty implements. Piper gave the assaultron a small wave and felt immediately stupid for doing so. "Daisy sells general goods; she'll open in the morning." The guard gestured a thumb over his other shoulder at the building adjacent KL-E-O's. "You need a bed to come down on, hotel Rexford's down that alley. You need a drink, the Third Rail's around the corner and down the stairs. You need to remember where you left your keys, the Memory Den's next to the Rexford. You need anything else, then you can-"

"Fuck off," Piper finished for him, giving a nod. "I know, I know. Thanks."

The guard actually smiled, looking- Piper hated to admit it- neighborly. "That's right. Guess you'll fit in. Your leg's lookin' pretty bad there. The Rexford sells chems too." The guard paused, finally getting his lighter to spark. He lit his cigarette and gave her a faint nod. "And if you get into any trouble, it's your own damn fault." He gave a humorless grin. "Have a good day, now."

As piper shuffled- no, limped would be the more appropriate word- deeper into Goodneighbor, she found herself somewhat dismayed at how much more she already trusted the guards here than in Diamond City. That man very well could have shaken her down for the caps she didn't have anymore, but he didn't! Perhaps I've given this place too hard a wrap, she thought. I mean… I suppose this is just where most of Diamond City's rejects went after McDonough booted all the ghouls- and ghouls ain't bad. Maybe-

Piper had only just rounded the corner from KL-E-O's when a figure emerged from the alley behind the gun store, rushed her, and sucker punched her in the stomach. Piper doubled over, making less noise than she'd hoped; less noise than it would take for someone nearby to hear her. The air in her lungs fled from her and refused to return. The shadowy figure grabbed Piper in her dazed state, attempting to drag her in the alley. "No-" She whispered, struggling, grabbing at the brick wall. "Help-" She wheezed toward the guard she'd spoken to.

The guard glanced back at her, having heard the faint whisper. He only gave her a thumbs up and looked back to the gate.

"Choke on your cigarette you piece of-" Piper felt a dull thud against the side of her head that caused her world to grow painful and white. She felt herself being thrown, airborn for what felt like both seconds and an eternity, before she crashed into the muddy wet ground of an alleyway brimming with discarded trash. She tried to lift her head, though it only dragged across the old cobblestone beneath her. "Please-"

A swift kick to her stomach. The air had still not quite returned and, now, Piper was positive it never would. She curled, instinctually, putting her arms over her head to try to protect it. Why don't you just take the damn caps she wondered. Is beating the shit out of me really necessary? I'm already beat to shit, this just feels excessive. Perhaps her mugger was psychic, because they rolled her onto her back, slapped her defending hands away, and began to sort through her coat and pockets.

Piper had no fight left in her. She stared up at the night sky, at the roiling moonlit clouds above the darkened Bostonian skyline, whilst she felt thin hands search every nook and cranny where one might hide precious loot. Finally, the mugger found the only possession she had that wasn't an article of clothing; her humble pouch of caps she'd tucked away. The mugger's voice was gravelly, weathered; a ghoul's voice. "Hidin' anything else, sister?"

Piper turned her head to look into the shadowy figure's eyes. She wanted to say something witty or, barring that, something incredibly rude. Attempting to speak only made her cough. She was bitterly satisfied to find that there was still enough black radioactive water destroying her lungs to produce a fresh spray of gunk directly into the mugger's face. "Agh- Bitch!" The mugger hollered, wiping at his face. He balled a fist- the fist holding her caps, in fact.

A new voice- also gravelly, also a ghoul- came from the mouth of the alley where Piper had received this neighborly shakedown. "Hey; that wasn't very nice."

The mugger's head whipped around, balled fist falling slightly. "Hancock, I-"

A gun flashed, ringing Piper's ears. The vague black head-shape of the mugger flowered. Piper had no time to turn away and was sprayed with a fresh report of the mugger's blood. She made a quiet groan and tried to roll, the fresh corpse having fallen directly on top of her. "Oh, shit." The ghoul laughed. "That was supposed to be a warning shot. Whoops."

Piper writhed under the mugger's body, trying to muster the wind back into her lungs so that she might free herself. The ghoul made his way beside her and peeled the mugger's corpse off. She looked up at him, seeing him in the dim glow of the alley light. He was dressed in something you'd see on a mannequin; the Halloween section's best Founding Father display. Red, white, blue, the tricorn hat, lipped boots, old trousers; the lot of it. The visage was uncanny to the descriptions she'd heard.

Idiot, Piper thought, the whole unpleasant mess rushing through her mind a second time. The mugger even said his name; that's-

"Mayor Hancock, at your service." The ghoul smiled, black orbs staring down at her. Piper found that expression both snake-like and welcoming at the same time.

"Well… How about you service me up a new set of ribs…" Piper moaned.

Hancock helped her to sit up, though she waved him off before he could get her to her feet. "Not a fan of ghouls, eh?" Hancock said with feigned offense.

Piper shook her head as she rolled the headless corpse over, looking underneath it. The smell of blood finally hit her nose and she had to keep from gagging. Her pouch of caps was there, now freshly soaked. "I'm fine with ghouls," She said between involuntary belches as she picked the pouch up, dumping the caps- which were mostly bloodless- out onto the ground so she could funnel them back into her coat pocket. "It's shitty mayors I've got a real stick up my ass about."

Hancock let out a surprised, deep, genuine laugh at that. "Ahhh- Freedom of the press, indeed. You're Piper, aren't you? Thought I recognized that little press tab in your hat. Y'know, you and I oughta be friends from what I hear. Thick as thieves."

"Oh yeah?" Piper groaned, struggling to her feet. Hancock offered no aid this time, which Piper quietly appreciated. "And why's that? Because you think me trying to spread the truth and your chem-fueled experiment at anarchy falls along the same set of noble ideals?"

Hancock's smile never wavered. "No; because we both hate McDonough more than any other person on this glowing rock, I'd wager."

Piper gave a curt laugh, which sent unpleasant sparks shooting up her ribs. "Well… You're right about that."

"So," Hancock popped open his double barrel. "What-"

A head appeared in the alleyway; the guard from the front "gate". He gave a glance to Piper, then to the body, then to Hancock. "You good, boss?"

Hancock gave a half turn. Piper'd thought he was laying on the charisma before, but it was clear she was getting a cleaner cut version of the man. With the gate guard, Hancock was practically leaking charm out of his ass. "Oh yeah, me and Diamond City's star reporter here are aces. Jimmy, on the other hand…"

The guard only gave a faint nod, plucking the cigarette from his lips. He glanced at Piper, giving a gesture her way with his cigarette. "Told you if you got into trouble it was your own damn fault. Bastard got what he wanted to give out though; how many licks he gave you before you brained him, flatcap?"

Flatcap? Piper sneered. That's the best nickname he's got for me, flatcap, are you serious? I thought drugs were supposed to make you inspired and inventive.

Hancock briefly rattled his shotgun at his side as he slid in a fresh shell. "That was my doing, actually. Tried to give him a warning shot but, uh… Jet's still wearing off, guess I missed."

The guard gave a curt laugh. "Nah, I'd say he was thoroughly fuckin' warned." The gate guard laughed like a hound and plucked the cigarette between his teeth. "Well- Keep doin' my job, I won't complain." With a tip of his hat, the guard strolled off back to his post- to do what, exactly, Piper wasn't sure, but it sure as shit wasn't guarding.

Piper scoffed. "Goodneighbor's finest…"

Hancock chuckled, tucking his shotgun back into his coat. "Hardly. Jokes aside, you're lookin' pretty bad. Let's get you somethin' for all that bang-up the wastelands' given you, yeah?"

"I'll pass on the chems…" she grimaced. The last thing Piper wanted was to be far away from this world on a prescription from Dr. Feelgood, especially in a place that got her mugged within under two minutes of her arrival.

Hancock gave a slightly annoyed, less amused smile. "Not even some stimpacks? Dose of Rad-Away? Maybe some brahmin milk with razorwheat cookies to wash it down? C'mon, don't be stupid. I know that look in your eye; same look I bet anyone from Diamond City's gonna give Goodneighbor. It ain't exactly kid friendly, I get it, but I'm offering you free medicine as an olive branch here."

Piper narrowed her eyes at him a bit. She'd made up her mind the second he'd offered; she hurt far, far too badly to let her pride get in the way of pain relief. Still… No reason to give up without a fight. "Why?" She asked.

Hancock guffawed. "What? Why..? Because it's what a good neighbor would do." Hancock chuckled, slugging her arm. "Look; I'm offerin' stimpacks and a lay down on the least dirty couch I own in exchange for you tellin' me what brought you here- no more, no less. That, or lay down next to Jimmy and take your chances. What's it gonna be?"

Piper only just now realized she'd been swaying side to side the minute she'd gotten back to her feet. "The couch- But only stims, got it? I don't want-"

Hancock raised a hand to pause her, his lips drawing a thin line, his eyes sincere. "Nothing but stimpacks and Rad-Away. You're safe with me, ok? Seriously."

In her heart, Piper believed him. Was he her second least favorite mayor in the Commonwealth? Sure, but… To be fair, she only knew two.

A stimpack here or there helped when Piper had broken her arm a year ago after a not-so-neighborly patron of the Dugout hit her with a bat. She'd sent some clever, but perhaps not terribly thought out insults his way following his attempt to take her to the sheets. That stimpack felt good; her arm still felt broken, but it only hurt. The pain was managed.

The super-stimpack strapped to her arm, however, was fan-fucking-tastic. The blisters on her feet, the bruises beyond her counting, her swollen knee, her cracked ribs, her burning lungs; gone in an instant. Snapped away. Her breathing was labored but that was about it. She sunk into the couch, trying to ignore the barely-concealed smell of piss covered up with two hundred year old cologne.

"Feelin' good?" Hancock asked, folding his arms.

Piper hated to admit it, but she did. "Like a bajillion caps, tricorn…"

Hancock scoffed. "Tricorn? First Baker calls you 'flatcap' and now you call me 'tricorn'. There some kind of incredibly unfunny trend going around I'm unaware of?"

Piper sighed and waved him off. "Don't compare me to that goon…"

"What if they don't wear a hat?" Hancock pressed.
"Shut up…"
"I guess if they're bald you can go with cue-ball. If you wanna get stabbed, I mean."

"You know what 'shut up' means?" Piper asked, her smile betraying her desire to appear standoffish.

"Do you?"

"Touche…" Piper sighed, adjusting the stimpack. She watched the injector's reader steadily decline; fully deposited. She almost felt ready to go out there and get broken again. You're still broken, Piper reminded herself. You just can't feel it. She undid the leather strip and pulled the needle out of her arm. She, of course, barely felt that either.

"So," Hancock took the stimpack and set it on a (surprisingly clean) chem tray before wheeling over an IV stand with Rad-Away hooked up, another needle ready to go around where the last had just departed. "We've got Nuka-Cola bandages and Giddyup Buttercup bandages, which do you prefer?"

"No Silver Shroud? Truly, you lot live in wanting." Piper took the end of the Rad-Away needle and pressed it into the already-exposed vein on her arm. Second by second, she could feel it working its magic. With this and the stimpack, she felt like a new woman.

Hancock gave a curt, singular laugh. "Fresh out, but honestly- jokes aside- I'd bet ten caps Connolly has some."

Piper didn't particularly care about who may or may not have children's bandages, but she wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. "Connolly?"

Hancock nodded. "Kent Connolly. He runs those Silver Shroud radio dramas out of the memory den on a little HAM setup. Guy's a massive fucking nerd. Prewar ghoul, too, listened to those broadcasts when he was a kid. Never met anyone who could love something that long… I mean, it's not like they're exactly coming out with new episodes anytime soon, y'know?"

Piper was surprised and, suddenly, ashamed. She'd bought into McDonough's propaganda in much the same way she figured everyone else in Diamond City had. She had believed that Goodneighbor was a shithole raider den posing as a settlement. Well… It was shitty, that much was true. No one gets mugged within two minutes of getting into a place without it being wicked awful. Still, she thought, looking up at the strangest ghoul she'd ever met. Maybe he's not such a bad mayor after all.

Hancock caught her staring. "You look kinda misty eyed." He glanced at the Rad-Away. "... Nope, this is the clean bag, not the Daddy-O laced stuff. You feelin' alright?"

Piper sighed, nodding. "Yeah… Yeah. A lot better, actually. Bet I still smell like shit though."

Hancock laughed. "Ohhh yeah. So. I offered you my hospitality in exchange for a good story. Kent might not have any new Shroud episodes coming his way, but the Wasteland's pumping out grim fables by the hour. Why are you here, Piper? Why visit our little slice of heaven?"

No reason for lying. "I… Ran a piece on synths in Diamond City. I also maaaaay have, uhh… Called McDonough a synth, indirectly, at the end of the article. Not only did I finally open everyone's eyes to all the disappearances that Security's been covering up, but I pissed McDonough off big time. He exiled me."

Hancock gave a long whistle. "You shit in McDonough's sugar bombs? God damn, are you sure you don't want some chems? That kind of heroism deserves a reward."

Piper grimaced and gave a dismissive wave. "Meds are fine, stop asking."

"Fair enough. So, you run McDonough's ass through the mud- not that it can get any dirtier- and he boots you out… So you make the same trek we ghouls did when he gave us the boot and ended up in the same place. Poetic."

"Yeah, well…" Piper adjusted the needle in her arm. "Don't give me too much credit. This wasn't my first stop."

"Oh?"
"Nick Valentine, do you remember him?"

Hancock gave that thin-lipped smile again… Or, a no-lip smile, now that Piper saw him in proper lighting. "The Great Synth Detective- How could I possibly forget? I remember when Nick showed up in Diamond City. Guy's a bonafide freak like the rest of us- No, strike that. If I'm the mayor of freaks, I think Nick's king. Reject synth turned beloved member of the community? That's admirable. I only wish he lived here. He'd have a hell of a lot more business… Plus, I'm gonna be honest, he's just too cool for Diamond City."

"Wow." Piper could start to see why Hancock had been made mayor. "Really playin' up the fanboy angle huh?"

"Kent's got the right idea; when a man puts on a fedora and goes around putting holes in bad guys, you put respect on his name."

"Fair. I guess."

Hancock checked the IV drip, giving it a small flick to work out some stray bubbles. "So, what's Nicky gotta do with you getting chewed up by Boston and spat out on We, The People's doorstep?"

"God, you're cheesy…" Piper groaned, rubbing at her eyes. "... Nick's gone missing."

Hancock frowned. Piper, again, found herself surprised at how genuine he appeared to emote. "Oh."

"Yeah… Nat- my sister- had an idea. Me pounding on the gates of Diamond City, screaming to be let back in, wasn't getting anywhere. But maybe… Maybe if I found Nick and brought him back, my whole public image could pull a one-eighty. McDonough wouldn't just have to let me back in, he'd have to give me a pat on the back too. What are they gonna do, let Nick in and leave me behind? Fat chance."

"Pretty genius plan…" Hancock nested his chin between his fingers. "Unless Nick's already dead."

Piper felt her heart sink into her stomach. Suddenly, the Rad-Aaway felt ice-cold in her veins. She felt beyond stupid. In all of this madness, she hadn't considered that by the time she got to Nick, Skinny Malone might've already- as the gangsters in the comics put it- "punched his ticket". She averted her eyes from Hancock's, looking down at the floor. Suddenly, Piper felt very sick.

Hancock gave a slow nod. "Didn't think of that? Fair enough… Hey- You're not lookin' so-"

Piper heaved. Being hungry had been a burden during her trek through Boston, but now the true depth of that pain reared its ugly head. She had nothing to vomit but bile; a thin yellow squirt of it emptying from her mouth onto the rotting floor beside the couch. When there was no more bile left to yield, she rolled back onto the couch, too weak to wipe off her dribble, staring up at the ceiling. "Oh God, he's already dead."

"Whoah, whoah-" Hancock raised his hands up, in a "slow-down" gesture. "Hang on, let's not get ahead of ourselves. He might be dead, but I was just throwing around a hypothetical here. Do you know how he went missing?"

Piper nodded. "Skinny Malone… Some suit-wearing gangster, and a patron of the Triggermen. I guess he kidnapped someone's daughter and sent Nick a-snoopin'. They're hiding out in Park Street Station. I tried to rush in there- nothin' but me, my ten, and a gleam in my eye. Didn't even make it past the ticket booth."

Hancock had begun to pace. He was quiet long enough that Piper had started to get curious. She sat up on her elbows, her stomach protesting. She wasn't sure if it was the fading radiation poisoning or the anxiety. "... What?"

"... Why'd you come here, afterwards? To Goodneighbor? Was it just because you had nowhere else to go?" Hancock didn't stop pacing.

"... No. I came looking for a mercenary."

"Good." Hancock said, his face contorting with a lion-like grin; a predator's smile if there ever was one. "Then you found one."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, actually, I think I might do this one for free." Hancock strode over, reaching for her arm.

"Hey-" She protested, before he yanked the Rad-Away needle out. "Shit- Ow, watch it! What's the big idea?" Piper sat up, rubbing at the sore spot Hancock had created in his wretched attempt at playing nurse. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Hancock's excitement unnerved her. "You need a gun? You've got one. Tomorrow morning, we'll head down to Park Street Station and take those bastards on together. Maybe I'll bring Fahrenheit along… Hm, no, I need someone here to keep the peace while I'm away. How many of those pinstripe fucks did you see when you went in? We talkin' like, ten? Twenty? Bet I can bum some grenades off of-"

"Whoah, whoah." Now Piper was the one giving "slow down" gestures. "Let's dial it back here. What the hell has you all fired up? You're the mayor of a town, not a hired gun. Don't your people… Y'know, need you? Why the hell would you wanna help me?"

Hancock considered that. He paused a moment to pull a red inhaler out of his pocket; an unmistakable container of Jet. "I gotta pay you back for raking McDonough's muck."

"Don't bullshit me. Seriously, why?"

"Well-" Hancock paused, taking in a huff. He rolled his head back, letting the drug seep before he let the white steam escape from the gaping hole where his nose had once been. He, all at once, sounded far more alert, far more engaged; ready to do a backflip through a window just about. "I'm not kidding about McDonough. Really, someone oughta repay you for that. But… You can't afford a mercenary with fifty caps- not one worth a damn anyway."

"Hey, I was gonna get some more-"

"Plus, Nick's a good guy. Person like that, solving cases and barely asking for scratch afterwards, deserves to be rescued by some upstanding citizens such as ourselves."

"First time anyone's called me upstanding-"

Hancock spoke over her. "Plus, I've drummed up enough good will running this place. World's hurting out there, people need some help- Clearly. I've given enough speeches from my balcony, as rousing and phenomenal as they may be. Sometimes words aren't enough. Sometimes you just gotta blow a mother fucker to pieces. Plus, the Triggermen have been a thorn in my side recently- Think they might be trying to muscle in on Goodneighbor. If I pull their boss' guts out and come back wearin' 'em like a minx scarf, I think that'll send a pretty good message."

Piper shuddered. She felt both lucky and gravely unfortunate to have so thoroughly peaked this man's interest in her cause. "... Ok." She nodded. What else was there to say? Living here sure as hell wasn't in her cards. She needed back into Diamond City, back to Nat, back to her paper. She needed to take McDonough down and she sure couldn't do that from out here. Piper hated to admit it, but she needed someone like Hancock- and here he was, like a dog with a bone.

Hancock smiled, planting his fist in his palm. "Perfect. Now, you gotta gun?"

"No. Lost it outside the station."

Hancock nodded. "Good."

"How in the hell is me losing my gun a good thing?"
"Means you're in the market for a new one. Can you walk?"

Piper rubbed at her thighs and tried standing. The stimpack was still going strong; she felt like she could run a mile, not that she wanted to. "Think so."

"Good… Let's see if KL-E-O doesn't have something in your size."