Chapter Text
October 15, 2289
In the year or so since the fall of the Institute, the Commonwealth had flourished more than John had ever expected. Without the constant threat of the boogeyman, it seemed more and more people had warmed to the idea of settling down to a peaceful life.
Or as peaceful as life could be in the midst of a world like this.
Sure, there were still the occasional rogue synth leftover from the days of the Institute to deal with and what was left of the Brotherhood after the destruction of the Prydwen; but that's what he had Nate for, right?
John took another huff of Jet, staring absentmindedly at the man before him, needing something to calm his nerves. Nate “Red” Sindile already looked ready to turn back, water soaking him up to his knees but that wasn't the kind of guy that Nate was. Once he had gotten it in his head, there was no stopping him.
Just like when he had set out to find his son. Just like when he had decided to rebuild the Commonwealth. Just like when he had chosen to reform the Minutemen. Nate was an unstoppable force sometimes. Exactly what a shitty world like this needed.
The ghoul took a deep intake of breath after what felt like an hour, the Jet slowing his thinking enough to make him relax a bit. Truth be told, he was grateful to his little vaultie for more reasons than he cared to admit. Currently he was grateful for just getting out of Goodneighbor. It had been a good minute since he'd traveled with his friend, Nate preferring the company of his fiery redhead brawler most days.
“Lovebirds,” Hancock mumbled to himself, a small hiccup of jealousy lacing his unheard words. Once upon a time, he’d found himself in a similar intimate situation with the vault dweller. The key difference being that John was a traveling ghoul and Nate wasn't.
The tall, dark, and handsome general of the Minutemen had settled down in Sanctuary with Cait and his son, Shaun. Sure he still traveled the wastes, setting up new settlements and helping where he could but John knew that at the end of the day, he left his heart at home. With Cait and with Shaun in Sanctuary.
Truly, he knew he couldn't be jealous. Hancock just didn't do romance and certainly not long term. Especially not with a human. He didn't need that kind of anguish 30 or 40 years down the road. Considering Nate’s pension for trouble, 30 years was being generous. Besides, the jealousy he felt now was more out of companionship than intimacy. He missed the days when the old general would roll into town, scoop him up and whisk him away on adventures. Some days, the tricorn weighed heavy on his head.
“The password was ‘open’,” Nate said with a chuckle, shutting down the terminal before striding through the now unlocked doors before them. “You think Vault-Tec would be better than that.”
John laughed to himself, his grip on the shotgun tightening slightly. The laugh was more out of courtesy than mirth. He fucking hated exploring vaults. Everytime, they seemed to find something worse than the previous one.
Vault 113 was sure to be no exception.
When Nate first showed up in Goodneighbor a week prior with tales of a newly discovered vault under the Harbormaster Hotel, Hancock had groaned. Last thing he needed was another vault so close to home. Vault 114 was a pain in his ass most days. He had posted some men to keep an eye on the place in hopes that more triggermen wouldn’t move in. He had groaned twice as loud when his old friend had begged him to go exploring with him. It was a double edged sword. While grateful to be away from Fahr’s nagging and his mayoral duties, he really really hated vaults.
Following behind Nate, Hancock grew more uneasy. Vault 113 was clean. Too clean. Almost sterile. The white, hospital-like walls made him uncomfortable. In his experience with vaults, the cleaner they were, the more horrors they seemed to hide.
Place looks like it opted out of the war entirely.
Truthfully, the ghoul could tell his companion was growing uneasy too. The place was untouched, sealed away under the river, entrance only recently exposed due to the drought they’d experienced of late. Untouched didn't mean safe though.
As the pair pressed on through the halls, scavving what they could here and there, they kept eyes and ears open. Waiting for a feral or perhaps a mirelurk considering the vault was under the harbor.
No such monster came though. Not even a radroach had been seen as of yet, and the mayor was unsure if that made him more or less nervous. Either way, he kept his finger on the trigger of his shotgun, noting that Nate hadn't put away his rifle. Anytime the vault dweller felt it necessary to bring out Overseer’s Guardian, John knew he expected trouble.
“Something is definitely wrong here,” Hancock muttered, picking up a still sealed tin of Mentats. Strawberry Mentats? He mused. That was a new one.
“What do you mean?” Nate replied, busy picking another lock. It seemed that every door in the damn vault was locked.
“Don't play dumb. It's unattractive,” the ghoul replied jokingly. He glanced around him. No dead bodies, no skeletons, no furniture overturned. Nothing. “Maybe it's the chems talking but dontcha think we should have found something suspicious yet?”
Nate seemed lost in thought, working on the locked door but his frown was apparent. He’d probably been thinking the same thing, too stubborn to say anything. That was usually how it played out when they explored together. Nate taking the lead, John following behind in comfortable silence.
But vaults made Hancock uncomfortable and the silence wasn't helping.
“Nothing bads gonna happen,” The dark skinned man finally said, pulling on the now unlocked door handle.
“Wanna bet? Troubles always finding you,” replied Hancock, trying to sound lighthearted. In truth, he didn't have to try too hard. He trusted Nate with his life.
“Hundred caps we make it out alive,” Nate offered.
“Two hundred if you don't bleed.”
“Five hundred if I leave here without a scratch,” Nate laughed and John relaxed a bit more.
“You don't know when to quit, vaultie,” he replied smoothly before following the taller man into the next corridor. The hallway seemed endless, dozens of doors to either side of them. All the same, they were grey with a small window so one could peer in. The dirty grey of them in stark contrast with the white of the walls and floor. Nate tried a knob, finding his first unlocked door of the trip.
He slipped inside, glancing about the small room and eyeing everything closely as he always did. Hancock appreciated his keen sight and attention to detail. It had saved their ass more than once. Looking around, they both saw nothing more than a bed, a toilet and a footlocker.
“Looks like a prison cell,” Nate commented, looking through the contents of the foot locker. There was a fair amount of 10mm ammo and some old army fatigues, still pressed and unworn.
“Or a bunk room,” the ghoul remarked, noticing the name ‘Private Wilson’ on the door. He turned in the hall to see little name placards on each of the doors. John stepped away from the room that Nate was still looting, tracing his rugged finger over the name on the door across the hall. The door was about to fall off its hinges, the first real bit of damage that he had seen since entering the vault. ‘Sergeant First Class Howard’ it read, barely even faded over the past two hundred years. The uneasy feeling settled back in the pit of his stomach and he grimaced.
“Uh,” it was Nate’s voice that pulled him away from his thoughts. “A little help here, buddy.”
The voice asking for assistance was muffled and when John turned he could see why. Nate peered through the small glass window in the door, his frown almost comical. The door had closed behind him when John had moved away to examine the names. It had also locked behind him.
“Thought nothing bad was gonna happen,” John joked, trying the handle. The door opened easily for the ghoul. “Only opens from the outside?”
“There's no handle inside,” Nate scowled, “It really is a prison.”
The two continued to explore the rooms, each time making sure one stayed outside just in case. Every room was more or less the same: Bed, toilet, locker and every locker nearly the same: ammo, fatigues, and Mentats. Occasionally, he’d find Psycho or Buffout and by the time the explorers had reached the halfway mark, a half dozen or doors down the long hall, Hancock had enough chems to feed Goodneighbor.
It was seven doors down on either side when things actually changed slightly. Where the other rooms had been empty save for furniture, the next five all had the remains of their occupants. Corporal White had hit Hancock the hardest, his skeleton curled up on the bed with a note clutched in his hand.
Dearest Emily, it read, I know that you are somewhere here within this vault. They won't let me see you. Not until the experiments show results but I am so hungry and so very tired. Has it been weeks or months since the bombs fell? It could be years and I wouldn't know. They tell me I am helping my country. That when all is said and done, I’ll be a better soldier than I ever was. I hope they’re right. I love you. I want only to make you proud. It will be my turn in the chambers soon. I hear the screams sometimes. Something guttural and inhuman. But maybe that's just the solitude playing tricks on me. Whatever I must endure, I will. We’ll be together soon.
- Eli
Out of the corner of his eye, John saw Nate bite his lip. It was a habit he’d always had when he was feeling useless. Corporal Eli White had been dead for two hundred years. There was nothing more either man could do for him.
Other rooms held similar horrors, though none as heartbreaking as the note. A door not far from the end of the hall had scratch marks on the back, evidence that someone had tried to claw their way out. The final one the boys peered into had a feral inside and both decided to put it out of its misery. Hancock didn't want to think that perhaps it hadn't started out as a feral ghoul, that perhaps it had just been a regular ghoul which had changed slowly over the past two hundred years.
Poor bastard.
There were barely any lights around, the ones they did have running on low power. Nate had turned on his Pip-Boy’s flashlight to help them out but it had only added to the ominous tone that was following them. The door at the end of the long hall was rather impressive. No way a bobby pin would work on that hunk of steel. Nate made an off handed comment that he didn't even think a sentry bot could knock it down. Only choice was to hack the terminal. A task easier said than done.
“Motherfucker,” Nate grumbled hearing the computer beep at him almost mockingly. “Couldn't be easy the second time around, huh? I hate hacking. Never was as easy as a bobby pin.”
“Where’s Curie when ya need her,” Hancock joked as he pulled out his pack of smokes. He brought one of the crumpled cigarettes to his lips and lit it as he leaned back against the wall behind his friend. Nate seemed lost in thought and John didn't feel the need to bug him. Afterall, he didn't want to get locked out of the terminal.
Maybe he did. Then they could leave that godforsaken place and head back to the Third Rail for some drinks with Fahr and Mac. It was selfish, he knew but honestly Hancock couldn't decide whether he wanted to be away from them or never leave their sides again. Goodneighbor was home. He loved the place more than he loved himself most of the time. Still, wiping everyone’s ass wore a guy down and it was nice to get away. Just when the babysitting died down, another issue would pop up and made Hancock ready to hit the road again. No one with power should be comfortable for long, afterall.
“I’m gonna take a piss. You good to watch your own back for a second?” Hancock asked as he put the cigarette out with the heel of his boot. Nate just mumbled a slight ‘sure’ and waved the ghoul away. His concentration was focused solely on the terminal. The ghoul slowly made his way back down the direction they’d just came, giving the names on the doors another glance.
Hancock stepped into the first room on the right upon entering. The door was half torn off so there was no danger of being locked in. He glanced around, hoping to find some Jet he’d missed. He knew better though. Jet wasn't prewar and the likelihood of finding it was nill. He opened the footlocker anyway, looking on the fatigues inside. The name Howard was stitched delicitaly across the lapel. He wondered for a moment what their story was. Was it as miserable as White’s had been? Where was their body? Maybe they’d made it out of the vault.
He laughed bitterly at himself knowing damn well that wasn't the case. He shook his head once more, trying to clear away the intrusive thoughts that vault seemed to dreg up. He really, really, really hated fucking vaults.
Turning on the balls of his feet to leave, something caught Hancock’s attention. He lifted the pillow off the bedding, squinting to see in the low light. A woven leather bracelet lay there and he hesitantly reached for it.
“Would ya look at that,” he whispered to himself, eyeing the handmade jewelry. Someone with clumsy hands had made it. The braided leather kinked in odd places caused him to smile. Someone had obviously put effort and time into the little trinket but that thought wiped the ghost of a smile from his lips.
Fucking Vault-Tec, he thought bitterly. Only good to ever come from one of those damn vaults had been Nate and even that had come at a price Hancock was uncomfortable thinking about.
“You alive in here?” The vault dweller’s voice broke through the eerie silence. John shoved his hand into the pocket of his frock coat, tucking the woven leather bracelet away. Maybe he’d give it to Fahrenheit, he thought to himself looking up to see the taller man leaning heavily on the broken door frame. Nate’s grin was anything but happy in truth. He was having similar feelings as his companion, knowing full well the horrors of Vault-Tec. “Doors open if you're ready.”
“Took your sweet time there, sunshine,” John joked haphazardly and tried to push away the intrusive thoughts. He followed behind the Minutemen general as he made his way back down the hall keeping his eyes glued to Nate’s back in order to avoid looking at the other doors.
The room behind the solid steel doors was much darker than the hall had been, indicating its expansive size. There were blackened shapes scattered throughout the room but neither man felt the urge to go to them in the current lighting. Darkness like this hid more horrors than just skeletons and notes of forgotten vault dwellers. The low light coming from the Pip-Boy didn't make either of them feel very safe and Hancock wished he had broken into his secret stash and brought along some Cateye for the occasion. It was a pain in the ass to come across in the commonwealth but damn it if it wouldn't have been helpful at that moment.
The atmosphere of the room was wholly different than that of the hallway and John couldn't figure out what it was. If he had had hair, it would have been standing on ends. It wasn't until he heard a low clicking come from the Pip-Boy and it’s wearer popped a small capsule that the ghoul realized was Rad-X did he realize the shift in tone. It was insane the difference in radiation between that of the entrance of the vault and the room they now found themselves in. John faired well in this kind of rad infused element but his worry was not for himself, rather his companion.
“Careful now smoothskin. When I joked about making us a permanent thing, I didn't think you'd be rushing head first into a radstorm,” The ghoul barked out with a laugh. The dark man seemed to frown slightly before a smirk crossed his face.
“Come on now. Don't wanna wake up to this mug for all eternity?”
“That mug? Sure,” He said with a hardy laugh. “Problem is that you ain't going to be so pretty when the rads are done with you.”
“I’d still be prettier than you, ghouly” Nate pointed to a soft light coming from a stairwell not far from where they stood. “We need to find the reactor. Seems like it's on it's last leg. Quick change to the fusion core and we can have this place up to exploring standards in no time.”
“Lead the way, Red,” Hancock replied smoothly, walking towards the glow in the stairwell. His grip tightened around the shotgun once more as they descended. The scuttling of tiny legs alerted them both that they weren't alone.
“Fucking radroaches,” The other man mumbled under his breath as he slung Overseer’s Guardian over his shoulder. OG was overkill. Why waste .45 rounds when he had plenty of 10mm ammo in his pack? At the bottom of the staircase, he shined the light of the Pip-Boy out among the floor. A small gasp escaped his throat seeing the size of the radroaches.
“That's a fucking Roachor if I’ve ever seen one,” Hancock breathed low, trying not to draw the attention of the thing. It was as big as mirelurk and twice as resilient if the rumors were true. John had only ever heard horror stories about these man sized radroaches. Under it's huge legs, another dozen or so smaller radroaches nested. The mayor lifted his shotgun, ready to fire whenever Nate gave the signal. Currently the other man was trying to slowly pull his rifle around to his front as he mentally berated himself for putting it away in the first place.
His shallow breath caught in his throat when he felt it fall. The knife that had been slipped through the belt of his combat armor had been bumped when Nate was slowly trying to retrieve his rifle. It clattered to the floor with a harsh sound and Hancock regretted ever giving it to him.
The room was deathly silent as the knife settled on to the ground at his feet. It was as if all the radroaches had stopped moving at once, waiting on the larger Roachor to make its move. When it did, was it ever fierce.
Raising back on its large hind legs, it let out the loudest hiss that either had ever heard. Like a bull noticing the faded and dirty red of Hancock’s frock coat for the first time, the tan behemoth rushed forward, it's tiny companions following behind ready to finish the job if the monster before them should fall.
Nate swore under his breath as he quickly took aim with his rifle but John had already fired off the two shots his shotgun allowed him. It was perfect how in sync they were. Hancock loading his shotgun while Nate aimed to cripple the legs of the beast and alternatively, John firing a few more rounds while his companion reloaded and took aim at the smaller insects under foot. Both men scrambled up the stairs as they unloaded into the Roachor, it flailing around as it tried to follow after. Luckily the doorway was too small and it managed to wedge itself at the bottom of the stairs. The larger man held out an arm to John, signalling for him to lower his weapon. Nate took aim with Overseer’s Guardian. His aim was as sharp as ever as he released a succession of painfully accurate shots into the easily exposed head of the roach. It went silent all of a sudden and the boys breathed a sigh of relief.
“For good fucking measure,” Nate said as he pulled the pin from a baseball grenade. Now at the top of the stairs, he tossed the round explosive down towards the husk of the Roachor and took a step back to cover his ears. The corpse of the roach exploded in a much messier fashion than he’d hoped but at least the fucker was dead and so were the little ones behind it. “After you, mayor.”
“Such a gentleman,” John rolled his eyes and tried his hardest to not step in any of the slick radroach guts as he descended back down the stairs. He had his shotgun at the ready to pick off any stragglers that might have been missed by the grenade but there was none to be found. Instead the only thing at the base of the stairs were some disheveled lockers that had been hit with the blast and covered in the same guts that now clung to the bottom of Hancock’s boots. He glanced to his left, seeing what had been causing the faint glow they had seen up above. Behind a locked gate, a worn out generator looked to be on it's last leg.
“Wow,” Nate whistled, eyeballing the hunk of machinery, “That's a super reactor!”
The ghoul shook his head in amusement. Leave it Red to be a nerd at a time like this.
“Hold on to this for a sec,” The dark skinned man mumbled, handing over his rifle to his companion. He lowered himself to one knee and pulled out a bobby pin from his pocket. Hancock kept a close eye just in case anything else was to sneak up on them. It wasn't but a few seconds and Nate looked up at him with a satisfied grin. He pushed open the gate before searching through his pack once more. After chasing another capsule of Rad-X down with some water, he pulled out four fusion cores from his pack. “I worked on a few of these when we helped with Vault 88. They must have been putting out some serious energy if they’ve drained the fusion cores. Even after two hundred years, these things are meant to last. What the hell was Vault-Tec up to?”
“Nothing but trouble,” John replied as he watched the other carefully reach for one of the damaged fusion cores. Hancock’s free hand bolted out to catch his wrist before he had a chance to touch it. Nate glanced up at him with wide eyes, slightly startled by the sudden movement. “Look, Red, you can have as much radiation as you want when you're back in Sanctuary with Cait but if you're with me, I’d rather you play it safe. I don't need that old lady of yours showing up in Goodneighbor wondering why your nose is falling off.”
Unable to argue, Nate traded him the new fusion cores for his rifle and stood back to watch and instruct the ghoul on how to properly reinstall the new energy source. It was easy, a lot like changing a light bulb. Though John had to laugh at that considering how few light bulbs he’d changed in his lifetime. “Candles are the way of the future.” A dumb joke that earned a laugh from both of them. The last fusion core slid in place easily but John frowned when nothing happened.
“Looks like we need to reboot the system,” The general commented and turned to the terminal sat on the desk opposite the generator. He cracked his knuckles as if he were about to hack into some incredible trove of secrets and not simply reset a bugged system. Trying a few different words, Nate’s brow furrowed in concentration. He hit a string of symbols and thanked his luck when it glitched to reset the lockout attempts. A few swift keystrokes later and [LABORATORY] was the miracle he needed. Quickly and precisely, he navigated in order to find the system reboot. The super reactor roared back to life and it was almost blinding when the overhead lights flashed to life.
“Thank fuck,” Hancock grumbled as he lowered the brim of his tricorn to shield his eyes. They'd been underground for less than three hours but it felt as though he hadn't seen light in days. Nate didn't move, too preoccupied by the contents of the terminal it seemed. John was fine with that, opting instead of bothering him to just light up another cigarette. He took a long drag and it helped calm his nerves immensely. Sure, he hadn't exactly expected a Roachor to be down here (or to even exist for that matter) but all in all, aside from emotional damage, the two were realtively unskathed at this point and he was thankful for that.
“RISK?” He heard Nate mumble to himself. John turned back to see his friend’s brows knitted together once more and he gave him a questioning glance. “I have no clue. Something in these logs that refer to what they were doing here as R I S K but no indication as to what that stands for.”
“Pretty sure I could make out a terminal or two up top in the dark. Suppose those could hold some answers?”
“Maybe,” Nate replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He already looked tired and Hancock hoped that meant this little field trip would be over soon. He promised himself that after they explored the room above, he’d try to convince the vaultie to come back another day. Quickly scavving what they could from the torn apart lockers, the two made their way back up the stairs as carefully as possible. Nate nearly pissed himself when at the top of the stairs another radroach was waiting from them. “It caught me off guard!”
The ghoul just laughed a dry laugh, the kind of laugh when you want to be in a good mood but something's eating at you. Luckily, with the electricity back on, the ventilation system was back on line too and some of the radiation had cleared from the room. One less thing for me to worry about, he thought as he turned his attention to his smoothskin friend.
He had been right though, the room was huge. Twice, maybe three times the size of any room they’d been through so far. Nate felt a cold chill run down his spine when he saw the four rows of pods. An eerie sense of Deja Vu hit him and he prayed they hadn't stumbled upon another cryo lab.
With a pinprick of awe, John walked around to face one of the pods and peered through the dusty window to see its contents. A dried old skeleton rested inside, head tilted back as if screaming to heavens above to be released.
Through the corner of his eye, he watched Nate go to another terminal at the beginning for a row labeled as ROW A. His fingers were quick and his eyes scanned even quicker, hacking through to the information with such ease that it would have made Curie blush.
“Pod 1 in row A: Private Emily Merrick dishonorable discharge 2076. Enrolled in RISK in January 2077,” Nate read and John grimaced at the name, unsure of whether or not it was the same Emily from Eli’s letter. “Pod 2 Corporal Benny Titus dishonorable discharge. Pod 3 Private Castle dishonorable discharge. 4 Conners discharge. All of these people! Looks like Vault-Tec wanted something with dishonorable discharges. What the fuck could they have been up to?”
“There’s a terminal over by the entrance. I’m seeing a holotape in deck,” Hancock craned his neck over towards the desk. Nate hurried over and loaded the holotape into the Pip-Boy on his wrist. A small audio crack could be heard and both men stopped to listen to the voice.
Radiation Infused Soldier Keystone Log, March 22, 2078 Doctor Elaine Porter checking progress of patients in radiation pods row A through D, a very feminine voice began and Nate could hear the slight tremble to it, When we lost the family units back in December to an earthquake, I thought I had seen the worst. Now we’ve lost power to all subjects in pods E through Z when the rooms collapsed under the pressure of the river yesterday. Those rooms are now flooded but sealed. We’re left with roughly 40 subjects. How the US military plans to fight the entire war with 40 soldiers is beyond me but hey, I just work here…
Many of the subjects are showing promise. They’re handling the radiation much better than anticipated. If they can continue this level of exposure, we can take them surface level this same time next year. If America still exists, these soldiers could be our saviors. Currently we are rotating 20 in and 20 out. Corporal White doesn't seem to be handling the out time as well as the in time though and I can see why they gave him a dishonorable discharge.
I know that we’re not supposed to play favorites but White is a dream compared to Sergeant Howard. Last night she held one of the nurses hostage and demanded to be released topside. She’s under the delusion that her sister is alive out there somewhere. I looked over her charts and her history with impulsivity and violence is concerning. I don't want my staff to deal with someone like her which is why after a heavy tranq, she was placed back in her pod. Not sure if that one will be getting any extra out time than what is required for her safe-
A sharp crack is heard followed by a soft squeal of surprise, Goddamnit! Another power surge! It's like these Vault-Tec assholes had no clue what this level of experimentation would require! If I can just make this damn thing survive the year, we should be safe. There’s enough food for us and the subjects don't require nearly as much. The radiation seems to nourish them plenty. I suppose I’ll update the patient sheets tomorrow on my private terminal but for now I think it's time to open a bottle of wine and try to relax. Doctor Porter signing off.
“Rad infused soldiers? Is that what I’m hearing?” Nate gritted his teeth. He was a former US soldier himself, and a survivor of Vault-Tec’s experiments. This rubbed him in all the wrong ways.
“So they were basically making ghouls,” Hancock replied calmly. In truth, it didn't surprise him. Vault-Tec loved this sorta thing. He’d heard tales of everything from clones to super mutants to fucking plant monsters that had sprung up from Vault-Tec. Ghoul soldiers were pretty tame considering.
In order to keep his calm, Nate booted up the terminal that had been next to the holotape. He scrolled through the files and it had made the hollow feeling in his stomach even worse. It reminded him so much of waking in Vault 111 and checking the status of the cryopods.
Life Support: Offline. Premature termination resulting in system failure. Isolated manual and remote overrides detected. Controls disabled.
Major Johns: Occupant status: Deceased. Cause of Death: Toxic levels of radiation detected.
Sergeant Kenny: Occupant status: Deceased. Cause of Death: Toxic levels of radiation detected.
Private Williams: Occupant status: Deceased. Cause of Death: Toxic levels of radiation detected.
Everyone in the first row was the same and Nate felt tears sting his eyes. He remembered his neighbor’s names even if he couldn't remember their faces. They’d all been in the same kind of state when he’d emerged from his cryopod. It had been almost two years to the day but it didn't feel any less painful to think about.
He pushed himself to check the status of the other pods, though he wasn't sure what he wanted to find. Maybe someone had survived, been ghoulified but survived nonetheless. Being a ghoul wasn't so bad if Hancock was anything to go by. Who doesn't love a charismatic guy like John?
Nate hadn't even realized he was holding his breath until he released it in a snort of elation. Row B Pod 6 General Hightower: Occupant status: Undetermined. Row C Pod 4 Sergeant First Class Howard: Alive. He nearly threw himself across the room causing Hancock to step back in shock. The ghoul had no idea what was going through his friend’s head. He was just happy to see the deepening frown gone for a few seconds.
However, a few seconds was all it was. Nate caught a sob in his throat when he wiped the dust away from the pod containing Hightower and the ghoulish feral face stared back at him. A low and guttural screech came from the pod and Hancock instantly knew that it was from a feral. His heart sank as he watched Nate release the door clamps and the ghoul came spilling out. It didn't even take a second for the man to pull his pistol and put the fellow general out of its misery.
“Undetermined,” With tear filled eyes, Nate looked up at his long time friend. “This is fucking sick,” it was no more than a whisper but Hancock could hear the grief in his companion’s voice. He’d been there when Nate had decided to retrieve Nora’s body from Vault 111 in order to bury her. He could see the parallels between this situation and that. It didn't help that it was so close to the anniversary of it either. Nate was alway jittery this time of year. Always itching to go out and kill some raiders or explore some ruins. Anything to get him away from Sanctuary.
“I think we’ve had enough exploring for one day, dontcha think?” Hancock’s voice was low and concerned as he rested his hand on the other man’s shoulders. He needed to get out of there, needed to get Nate back to Goodneighbor and into a bottle of liquor. He needed some Jet and some beautiful woman to hang on his arm and make him forget all about Vault 113.
“They’re all dead, John,” The use of his first name was troubling. He and Nate had so many different nicknames for each that they’d seemed to forget what each other’s first names were. It concerned him even more than the tears that had spilled over on to Nate’s dark cheeks. Hancock sighed deeply. He still marveled at how big Nate’s heart was. He never knew someone who could go from slaughtering fifty raiders with a minigun to crying over a dead cat but that's exactly who Nate was.
“I know, Nate,” John said, tugging on Nate’s hand and leading him towards the exit. To an onlooker, it would have been comical. John pulling his much taller friend along like a lost and forgotten child while he tried to force himself not to cry. A bitter smile edged it's way on to his lips at the thought, though it was partly due to the satisfaction of being able to leave.
The door was less than five feet away when Hancock felt Nate stop dead in his tracks. He groaned slightly to himself and tried to give Nate the benefit of the doubt. He turned around to see the other chewing at his lip worryingly. His eyes were focused on a pod in row C and John could have sworn there was a sparkle of hope to them.
“Occupant status: undetermined,” The general breathed, and before John could stop him, he was already dashing towards the pod. Hancock’s shoulders slumped as he prepared for another disappointment. When he saw Nate practically jump in the air, he felt his heart flutter. “Status alive!”
Rushing over, John peered through the dirty window and his heart hammered in his throat. The light wasn't good enough to make out everything but he could plainly see the soft face of a woman, eyes closed and chest rising and falling so slowly that it barely looked as if she was breathing at all. He stared wide eyed, taking in her naked form as Nate scrambled for the locks.
It was a loud torturous sound that made John’s ears ache but the door opened and he couldn't stop himself from gawking at the figure they were now presented with. With the door open, Hancock could plainly tell she was in fact not naked. Her skin so pale that it blended almost seamlessly with the white jumpsuit she was dressed in, the numbers 4C3-BM-V113 printed across the swell of her breast and a hunter green Pip-Boy strapped to her wrist. The pale skin seemed to glow and the only blemishes in sight were the dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Her face was framed with greyish white hair that pooled down her further than Hancock had ever seen on a woman, stopping just past the curve of her delicate hips. She was thin, dangerously so. After two hundred years of being left on her own, he wasn't surprised.
“Status alive,” Nate sobbed again, though this time it wasn't out of grief but out of happiness. Hancock stood there absolutely speechless, trying to soak in what was happening as he watched the small rise and fall of her chest. It all seemed like a dream. Could there possibly be some kind of silver lining to all this? Nate seemed to think so, carefully removing a Berserk Syringe from his pack. “I don't have any adrenaline on me so this is gonna have to do.”
For a second, Hancock considered stopping him. A Berserk Syringe was likely to send this person into a frenzy. Well not likely, it most definitely would considering that's what it was designed to do. He stood back however and watched Nate angle the syringe just right, knowing full well that he knew what he was doing. John had seen his buddy stop someone from bleeding out with nothing but a carton of water and a Stimpak. He’d taken more bullets than anyone else in the commonwealth and knew a thing or two about medicine.
They both held their breaths as Nate carefully slid the syringe into the vein just below her jaw. Her skin was so pale that he had no problem finding it. There was no noise for what seemed like an eternity and Hancock had to remind himself that he hadn't had a huff of Jet in a few hours. Nate’s smile was quickly fading as he continued to wait for a response. He chewed his bottom lip once more and John could see the faint outline of tears forming in his eyes once again.
“We can take her back to Goodneighbor and have Amari look her over. She’s breathing, ain’t she? That's something,” John slapped a hand on his friend’s back and watched Nate’s frowning mouth open as if he were about to protest.
He never got the chance though as a loud gasp made their heads snap up to the girl in front of them, her breath heavy and ragged, her body shaking from the rush of adrenaline pumping through her.
John’s black eyes met her equally black eyes. Ghoulish eyes. They were wild, feral, and predatory.
“Fuck.”