After taking inventory in my bag, I knew I didn't have enough Rad-X and Radaway to walk through the Glowing Sea this exposed — not that it something like that would even work. I didn't have what I needed to fix my suit of Power Armor back home, either. And, to make things worse, I didn't have the caps I needed to buy any of those things.
I told Nick he should head back to Diamond City to rest up. He looked a little tired, for a Synth.
"I shouldn't leave you here alone," he protested.
"I'll be okay. I need to look for work, and you have your own work to do back in Diamond City. I can't keep you from your job."
He grumbled to himself for a moment. "... All right, but if you have any trouble, go straight to the mayor."
"Why the mayor?"
"I know he didn't make a great first impression, but trust me when I say he's the only one you can trust around here."
I raised an eyebrow at him. This felt like a serious lapse in judgment on Nick's part. Mayor Hancock killed one of his own as soon as we entered Goodneighbor.
"Are you sure the incident at the Memory Den didn't have an effect on you?"
"I know what I'm talking about. I've known Mayor Hancock for a long time, way before he was even a Ghoul. Be careful, kid. I'm heading out."
As Nick left me in front of the Memory Den, I decided it was time I got to know this town before I started looking for work. I wandered aimlessly, looking at all the buildings and vendors and people. The people here looked a little down on their luck — sleeping in alleyways and makeshift sheds, wearing tattered clothing, in desperate need of showers, underweight and malnurished — but most of them were laughing and conversing in the street. Despite these pressures of life, they looked rather carefree.
All the guards around here were dressed in various pressed suits and fedoras, a noticeable contrast to the guards at Diamond City where they all wore matching umpire uniforms. They carried pistols and assault rifles. Some were Ghouls.
As I came closer to the State House, I heard a distinct, gruff voice yell, "Hey, everyone! Gather 'round, don't be bashful. Tkae your time..."
I looked up at the balcony to see Mayor Hancock standing there, overlooking the town. He waited patiently for people to start gathering in the street below. I joined the crowd curiously, but stood at the back away from everyone.
"Now," he began once about twenty people accumulated. "I know you all are doing your own thing, but I don't want anyone here to forget what matters."
Then, he seemed to get distracted and pointed to someone in the crowd. A Ghoul woman in a tan suit with thin hair pinned up on top of her head.
"Hey, Daisy! Glad you could make it. How's my favorite girl doing?"
She bashfully waved him off.
"Didn't I see you on a date with Marowski the other day?"
"Ha, he wishes!"
A peal of light laughter spread through the townspeople.
"Alright, alright. We're gettin' off track. What was I saying? Oh, that's right! What matters. We freaks gotta stick together! And the best way to stick together is to keep an eye out for what drives us apart, ya feel me?"
"Yeah, you tell it like it is, Hancock!" said a member of the guard.
"Now, what out there in our big, friendly Commonwealth would wanna drive us apart? What kind of twisted, un-neighborly boogeyman would wanna hurt our peaceful community?"
"The Institute and their Synths!" yelled a drifter in the crowd.
"That's right! Who said that?" He searched the crowd and pointed at the woman who raised her hand. "You've earned yourself some Jet. The Institute! They're the real enemy! Not the Raiders, not the Super Mutants, not even those tools over in Diamond City."
"I don't know, Hancock," yelled the guard again with sarcasm. "I'd sure like to give McDonough a kick in the ass!"
"Hey, we all know I have my own personal beef with that lardhead, but stay focused." He adjusted his hat on his head and grinned. "Now, I want everyone to keep the Institute in mind. When someone starts acting funny. When family starts pushing you away for no reason. We all know who's behind that kind of shit. And the only way to stop it is to stick together. They can't control us if we're not afraid! Now, who's scared of the Institute!"
"Not us!" yelled the crowd.
"And which town in the Commonwealth should the Institute not fuck with?!"
"Goodneighbor!"
"And who's in charge of Goodneighbor?!"
"Hancock! Of the People, for the People!"
Hancock raised his fist high in the air as the people cheered for him. Then he walked back into the State House as their praise continued from below.
My curiosity was piqued. It was clear Hancock hated the Institute, but I wondered just how much he knew about them.
I walked around the State House and into the side door. Once inside, a guard grumbled to me, "You're lucky the mayor likes outsiders," putting me on edge. The other guards looked none too happy about my presence. As I made my way up the spiral staircase in the middle of the building, I thought of how ironic it was that the mayor of Goodneighbor was nicer than his people, but Diamond City's people were nicer than their mayor.
Inside the room at the top of the stairs, I could hear Hancock and someone else having a conversation. I quickly recognized the other voice as I rounded the corner and peeked into the room. It was the woman with red hair that commented to me after the incident with Finn.
The inside of the room consisted of two couches facing each other with a low coffee table int he center, a work desk at the back of the room with papers strewn all over, a loveseat at the side of the doorway, and a few filing cabinets. The woman and Hancock sat across from each other on the couches.
"I'm thinking the Super Mutants are getting too friendly. Maybe we should round up a crew and thin them out?" he suggested.
She shook her head. "Too aggressive. They will have a home-ground advantage, plus our fighters are disorganized. When they aren't defending their homes, discipline and morale plummet."
"So, what? We just turtle up? That's not my style..."
"The only thing that's 'not your style' is losing, Hancock. Trust me. We keep the game a defensive. A simple castle strategy will draw the mutants to us."
He rubbed his chin. "And we can knock them off slowly... I like it..."
"And another thing... I could have handled Finn, you know."
"Yeah, but it's better if people know I can still get my hands dirty. Besides, it wasn't personal. No need to torture the guy."
"You always keep me from having fun."
I knocked on the door, a light tap.
The woman's face turned instantly sour, but Mayor Hancock stood from the couch and welcomed me with open arms.
"Hey, our newcomer. You need somethin'?"
Hancock was a somewhat tall man, ranging about five feet eleven inches. He was thin, bald from what I could tell past his tri-corner hat, and was covered in radiation burns. His eyes were a deep black and his nose was missing, leaving a shallow triangular hole in the middle of his face. He had a squared jaw, a charming smile, and moved with smooth, precise movements. He exuded charisma.
"I hope this isn't coming off as too abrasive. I just wanted to ask you some questions."
"Oh, yeah? What kinda questions?"
"About you, your town, work..."
"I'm always willing to talk about Goodneighbor, heh heh. Shoot."
"Just who are you? You're unlike any mayor I've ever seen."
"Ah, my favorite subject. Come on in, take a load off." He motioned to the couch and sat back down.
I walked across the room and sat down beside him, not taking my chances sitting beside the woman with the scowl on her face.
"Where to begin? I came into this town about... a decade ago? Had a smooth set of skin back then. While I was busy making myself a pillar of this community, I would go on these... like... wild tears... I was young." He kept pausing to grin wider and wider as if reliving the memories. "Any chems I could find, the more exotic, the better. Finally found this experimental radiation drug. Only one of its kind left, and only one hit. Oh, man, the high was so worth it. Yeah, I'm livin' with the side effects, but hey, what's not to love about immortality?"
I smirked, but it was condescending. No wonder this mayor was so laid back. "All that chem use definitely prepared you for a career in politics..."
"Hey, people respect me because I don't put myself above them, all right? I sling and shoot up just like the next guy. Now, before you bring me down, is there anything else you wanna ask?"
"What can you tell me about Goodneighbor?"
"It's all about the people, understand? They're freaks, misfits, and troublemakers. And that's why I love 'em. Everyone here lives their own life, their own way. No judgments."
"Is that why the town is thought to be so dangerous? Is there no form of law and order, or —?"
"We are law. We are order. And we are anarchy," said the woman across the room with a disdainful stare.
"Oh, this is Fahrenheit. Don't worry; she won't bite unless I tell her, heh heh." Hancock adjusted himself in his seat to lean his back more against the arm of the chair so he could see better. "The only thing you have to understand about Goodneighbor is this: everywhere is dangerous these days, but in these walls, it's controlled chaos. Ya feel me?"
I shrugged, deciding it was best not to push further. As a lawyer, the thought of lawful anarchy as Hancock was describing it simply didn't make sense to me.
"Somethin' else weighin' on ya?" he asked.
"Yes, actually. You were talking about the Institute during your address. That interested me. What do you know about the Institute?"
He grinned. "You like my little speech? I do it every once in a while, in case they're listening in. Can't say I know much about the damn sickos, but I want those Synth-makers to know that Goodneighbor is off-limits. No one gets 'replaced' in my town."
"Why do you think they do it? Replace people, I mean."
He shrugged. "Hell if I know. Mess with people's heads? Control us from the shadows? Or maybe they do it just because they can. No one knows where the Institute is, what kind of people they are, or why they've decided to engineer their own slaves, but there it is." He fished around in his frock for a pack of cigarettes and a silver flip lighter. "Just to be clear, everyone's welcome in Goodneighbor. I don't care if you're a Synth, Ghoul, Super Mutant — so long as you play nice. And lemme tell ya, Synths still under the Institute's control don't play nice. But hey, weren't we talkin' about your needs? You mentioned work, right?" He placed the cigarette between his thin lips and lit it.
"Yeah, I'm in need of... well... probably a lot of caps."
He raised a hairless eyebrow at me. "You don't sound confident."
"I'm not sure how much Radaway and Rad-X goes for at the local shops, and I'm in need of enough of it to make it through the Glowing Sea. It's... kind of important."
Hancock dropped his cigarette out of his mouth, then fumbled to pick it up off his frock before it burnt a hole through. "Ah, shit... damn..." he mumbled as he put the cigarette between his lips and rubbed the little burn mark below a button hole.
By the look of Fahrenheit's face, she was just as unbelieving — the first time so far she showed anything other than intimidation or anger. Her eyebrows were raised, mouth slightly agape.
"What the hell would you be doin' walkin' around in the Glowing Sea for?" asked Hancock. "It ain't for smoothskins."
"Smoothskins?"
"Non-Ghoul folk. Normal humans."
"Oh. Well, I need to find someone, and he's hiding out there. I don't know how he has managed to survive this long —"
"he very well may not have," interrupted Fahrenheit. "Your friend's probably dead."
"I can't accept that until I see it for myself," I stated plainly. "It's imperative that I find him. So if either of you have any work for me, I'd appreciate it."
Hancock and Fahrenheit exchanged glances.
"Listen, sister," said Hancock, "you'd need more Radaway and Rad-X than you could carry in that bag o' yours and then some."
My face dropped.
"I ain't tryin' to talk you out of it," he said, hands raised. "I'm just bein' realistic. Your best bet would be to find someone with a hazard suit in decent condition."
"Do you know anyone that would have something like that?"
"Could check with Daisy at her general store in front of the gate."
"Okay. I'll do that. And about the work —"
"Oh, right, right. Work. Hmm..." He took a drag of his cigarette as he thought. "... I'll tell ya what. I got reconnaissance needs. There's a lot of weird talk coming in about a place called the Pickman Gallery. It's Raider territory up there, but they've been quiet. Like, uncomfortable post-coitus quiet? Snoop it out, and gimme the word."
I crossed my arms. "Not a lot to go on. What else can you tell me about it?"
"Nothin'. That's why I'm paying you to go out there."
"Okay. Scout out Pickman Gallery. That's it?"
"That's it." He smiled. "Be thorough, okay? I'm not payin' you for a look-see. Find out what's really going on there."
____________________
The job sounded easy enough, but the trip to Pickman Gallery proved to be difficult. Pistol in hand and low to the ground, I tried my best to avoid the Super Mutants and Raiders. Luckly there were plenty of things to hide behind. In the city, buildings and broken traffic bridges had fallen and crumbled away, making it ideal to sneak and hide. However, it was hard to tell where I was going through the mountains of rubble and garbage because I didn't recognize anything anymore.
Hancock marked the location of my Pip-Boy map before I left. Pickman Gallery wasn't far from Goodneighbor. It was located closer to the old shopping district by the coast. It was a small, run-down, two-story shop that housed at least four Raiders, which I was able to kill quickly; they seemed to be spooked about something, so ambushing them was easy.
One of the bastards nailed me in the shoulder with a shoddy pipe rifle, though, and forced me to use my second-to-last Stimpack. It was my first time getting legitimately shot, and I felt sick to my stomach as the searing pain shot through my shoulder and radiated through my neck and arm.
Pickman Gallery had many dead bodies already inside, long before I got there. It smelled of rotting corpses, blood, and mold. I turned the Pip-Boy flashlight on and looked around, immediately regretting my decision.
There were paintings on the walls made with blood, and all the dead bodies were another sick form of art, posed in various ways. Some were chained to beds, one was used as a chandelier. The horrifying scene sent chills through my spine; I found myself shaking and sweating.
On one of the bodies was a piece of paper sticking out of the pocket of their jacket. I pulled it off the sticky, blood-covered jacket and read it.
Pickman was here, find me if you dare. A heart was drawn on the paper in blood.
A holotape lay next to the body. I picked it up and inserted it into the Pip-Boy.
"Jack it's me. I found out what happened to the scouts that went up near the old art gallery. They're dead, Seth. I'm lookin' at a goddamn painting of Kyle's body! Oh, God. What the hell did they do to him?"
There was a happy-go-lucky humming in the background of the recording.
"Who the hell is there?"
"Admiring my collection?"
"Stay away from me, you psycho!"
"Yes, just like that. Hold that expression on your face..."
The tape ended.
____________________
"How's my little scout doing?" Hancock asked in a raspy voice with a charming smirk.
I blushed. "Uh..." I held the calling card and the holotape out to him. "Here."
"What's this here?" He took them from me and examined them.
"Proof that Pickman is a madman. He's been killing people and using their bodies for... art."
He just chuckled and put the things I gave him on his desk. "Well, they say all artistic inspiration is ephemeral, am I right? Wish I could say that was the most twisted thing I ever heard of, but it ranks up there... Top three... I'll put the word out, tell people to steer clear of that area. Hiring you was definitely one of my better moments. Here. Spend the money in good health."
He handed me a sack of caps. "Thanks, Mayor Hancock."
"Please, just Hancock."
Flustered, I put the caps into my duffle bag. Then the silence between us got awkward. He put his hands in his pockets. When he pulled back his frock, that's when I noticed the American flag that was woven through his belt loops as a makeshift belt. I averted my eyes before he thought I was looking... at something else.
We both started to speak at the same time. He started with, "So what are you plannin' —" and I started with "I should probably —"
"Sorry, you first," I murmured, then added an awkward laugh.
"Ah, I was just wonderin' what you were plannin' to do now."
"Funny, I was just about to say that I should go to Daisy's shop to see if she had a hazard suit I could purchase."
His lips became a straight line, his brow creased. "You really plannin' to do this? Walk through the Glowing Sea, I mean."
I was surprised at his sudden concern. "Yeah."
"Hmm. You do what you gotta. And hey, if you're looking for more work, head down to the Third Rail underneath the State House. Talk to the bartender. He may have a job you can do." He winked.
I laughed nervously. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind.
As I turned to leave, he gave me a hopeful, "See you later, sister."
____________________
I stood in front of the shop, looking at all the bits and bobs and scrap that Daisy had to offer. A lot of it was tattered books, magnifying glasses, old telephones, typewriters, hotplates, chipped dinnerware, or handfuls of brushes and combs that were missing a few bristles.
Daisy, the soft-spoken Ghoul, looked as though she were about to close up shop. She had just finished wiping down the counter and picked up her broom to begin sweeping.
"Excuse me, ma'am," I called out to her, making my way to the counter.
She stopped sweeping and looked up at me with similar black eyes to Hancock's. Up close, I could tell that Daisy was wearing a wig.
"Oh. A new face walks into my store. And you're not even screaming at me. Very polite. You let me know if anything catches your fancy."
"W-What? People scream at you?"
"That's right." She laughed and leaned the broom against the wall. "Some newcomers have never seen a ghoul before. Can't handle a friendly face I say. You need some supplies? I was just about to close for the evening, but I'm in no hurry."
"I'd like to take a look, if you don't mind."
"Take a gander and let me know if there's anything you'd like." She stepped behind the counter.
I looked over her stock. Behind the glass of the counter, there were only a few light weapons, common ammo, some basic medical supplies, and some alcohol. On the shelves inside the room were two sets of leather arm guards, some old boxes of prewar food, and three jars of Rad-X.
"Do you have any hazard suits?" I asked when I didn't see what I was after.
"Oh, I can't say that I do. They're pretty hard to come by."
My shoulders drooped. "Damn. How much for the Rad-X?"
"They're 88 caps a bottle."
I fished through my bag and counted out enough to buy a bottle.
She took the caps and let me take the bottle from the shelf and put it in my bag.
"I'll be back when I have some more caps," I said sheepishly.
"I'm open every day except Sundays. Sundays are for the lord." She gave me a warm smile. "Have a good night, dear."
As I exited the shop, someone from the alley whispered. "Psst! Hey, you! Newcomer!"
I looked down the dark alley, but I couldn't make out who was calling to me. I rested my hand on my pistol and slowly approached the alley.
"Heard you were looking for work," said a woman's deep voice.
"Yeah... What are you offering?" I asked cautiously.
"I'm looking for someone who can do one simple task: dig. Think you can manage?"
The person lit a cigarette in the dark alley, the fire from her lighter illuminating her face briefly. It was a female Ghoul. She had long eyelashes and wore a pair of black slacks, an untucked white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, and a black unbuttoned vest. She wore a smile, but I couldn't tell if it was sweet or sinister.
"Dig? Dig what? And why?"
"My, my, you ask so many questions. Tell you what: the less you ask, the more you get paid."
"... All right."
"That's a good little worker. The name's Bobbi. Bobbi No-Nose." She held out her hand for me to shake it.
I walked over and shook her hand slowly. "Gwenora Isham."
"Fabulous. Follow me. I'll show you where the dig sight is. Trust me, it's easy work."
____________________
If I knew that the job for Bobbi No-Nose would land me in such an awkward situation, I never would have accepted.
Bobbi was running a dig site underneath an old building in Goodneighbor. There were already a few other people digging when I had arrived, including a red-haired man that she called Mel.
Mel had a robot with him — an orb-shaped floating hunk of metal with antennas all over it. It was an Eyebot. These Eyebots were pretty common before the war, their sole purpose to float around towns and broadcast news stations and advertisements. They were essentially floating radios.
Mel claimed that his robot could help the dig site along because he reprogrammed the Eyebot to emit sonic waves that would loosen sediment. And he was right. The Eyebot — Sonya, he named her — was a lot of help.
I said nothing, hoping to get paid as much as Bobbi was promising.
The dig site eventually led through sewer systems, old subway stations, and underground work rooms. Halfway through the underground passages, we lost most of the other excavators to hostiles — Mirelurks and Feral Ghouls were abundant.
That's when Bobbi explained she was doing all of this because she planned to steal from Mayor McDonough's strongroom underneath Diamond City. Mel was confused, because according to his calculations, we were nowhere near Diamond City. I checked my Pip-Boy discretely and saw that he was correct in thinking so. We were somewhere outside of Goodneighbor. Again, I kept my mouth shut.
Once we made it to the strongroom, Sonya let out one big sonic blast at max frequency and was unfortunately crushed beneath a piece of concrete that had fallen on top of it. Mel was devastated, but an uncaring Bobbi assured him he'd have enough money from this heist to buy two robots.
We climbed into the strongroom. It was lit up by one big security light on the side of the room. We walked carefully around the large crack in the floor and went through a doorway to the right. With my fingers crossed, I examined the strongroom.
Instead of finding loot, we found Fahrenheit.