Aim to Please

3 | Mistaken Identity

Aurora and MacCready went around the Commonwealth for news about Clive's whereabouts. She had done this before, so she knew to pick up rumors at bars, roadside diners, or displaced settlers heading to a new settlement. The directions pointed out either led her and MacCready to a Raider or a Gunner camp and more hints. In one of the Gunner camps they just wiped out, Aurora found a terminal with an entry mentioning that the dead leader had a meeting with Clive at The Slate Gate.

Even though she hadn't visited that bar before, Aurora was extremely relieved to get an actual lead; she told MacCready where they were headed next.

He didn't look pleased. "The Slate Gate near Goodneighbor? That place is crawling with Gunners; we don't want to go there."

"We have to; Clive will be there, so that's where I need to be."

MacCready began to argue, but she interrupted him. "You're an ex-Gunner; you can tell me what to expect and how to act. I'm going there, with or without you."

His mouth thinned in irritation. "You're going to need me if you want to get out of there alive."

"Alright; now tell me what I need to know."

"Why are you so hell-bent on killing this guy?"

Now Aurora grew irritated at his deflecting. "It's none of your damn business! Are you going to help or not?"

MacCready took in a frustrated breath, glared at her like he wanted to reprimand her, but relented.

***

On their walk to The Slate Gate, MacCready told her how to act if she wanted to get information from anyone. She listened long enough to hear him stress that she needed to appear strong and in command of herself—she couldn't seem confused or she'd be seen as a pushover, and they'd pounce. They would enter separately too; if he was seen at her shoulder, she'd be viewed as weak from needing a bodyguard.

With it being a bar and from her experiences, Aurora knew most would be drunken men and she would just have to flirt. She had done this many times before; he was just being too cautious.

Gunners had laid claim to this block; with the multiple barricades marked by the Gunners' skull, they greatly defended this place too. Aurora wound around the barricades and passed many Gunners exuding a supercilious aura, warning others that it'd be a mistake in approaching her. The men eyed her but never approached. The Slate Gate used to be a warehouse pre-war. Now it had been turned into a bar controlled by the most dangerous and organized mercenary group in the Commonwealth.

She walked in to find only four men seated at tables or lounging in dingy sofas with beer bottles in hands—their glazed eyes and red faces meant they were already inebriated. This was going to be easy. The air wasn't hazy with cigarette smoke, so she easily spotted the male bartender and headed over to take a seat at the bar. The counter had many chips and damage from past bar fights, and was sticky—Whitechapel Charlie kept his clean.

"What will it be, sweetheart?" he asked.

"Whiskey," she said.

His eyebrows shot up as he reached under the counter for a shot glass and turned to get her a bottle.

"What? Expected me to ask for weak beer?"

He shrugged as he poured her a shot. "Most women don't go for something so hard."

"I'm not like most women," she said as she knocked back the drink—the liquid burned on its way down her throat. She didn't prefer the taste of whiskey, but she knew it gave her a tough impression. Aurora gestured at her empty glass for it to be refilled.