Fallout 4: AR

4. Hancock and MacCready

Consciousness returned slowly. My mind first registered light, and I felt the unfamiliar lumpy cushions beneath my resting form. I smelled an odd mix of dust, acrid vapor, and hints of personal odor overlaid with that ever-present slight metallic overtone. My ears picked up footsteps and quiet conversation, the clinking of metal and ceramic. The memories of the day before resurfaced- the alley, running for my life, Goodneighbor, meeting Hancock and Fahrenheit, floating in a drugged haze after my panic attack, falling asleep. Guess it wasn't a dream. Whatever drug was in the inhaler Hancock had given me had faded, leaving me with a sense of lingering calm that allowed me to process this new reality more rationally. I'm still here. I'd better learn to deal with it.

I opened my eyes. I was lying on my side, back against the couch. Across from me on the other couch, appearing to me as if she had never moved from evening before, sat Fahrenheit. She had her weapon, a flamethrower of some kind to my best guess, disassembled on the table in front of her, performing maintenance. I blinked a few times and sat up. Fahrenheit glanced up with a terse "Good morning" and started to reassemble the flamethrower. Her greeting, while not especially hearty, was almost cordial. Guess that's better than her hostility yesterday. I'll take it.

Hancock approached from the back of the room and placed a white can on the low table in front of me. Stark plain black letters spelled out "Purified Water" on the side. I gratefully accepted the offering, cracking open the tab and sipping eagerly. After my panicked day yesterday and the effects of the inhaler that was definitely more than just asthma medicine, I was absolutely parched. The water helped wake me up a bit more, though I dearly hoped there might be coffee in my future.

"Thank you," I managed around sips.

"Quite welcome, Sunshine." Hancock sat on the opposite couch, leaning back to put an arm around Fahrenheit. He took a puff on another of those ubiquitous inhalers, exhaling with a sigh of contentment. "Hungry?"

I nodded vigorously. I hadn't eaten anything since my dinner right before this... adventure had started. Had it really been over a day ago? My stomach was happy for the water, but that was a temporary fix.

"Don't got much here, but it's edible... barely" apologized the Ghoul, pushing a smallish cardboard box across to me. "This is probably the best of the lot."

"Dandy Boy Apples?" The carton looked like it came straight out of a 50s sitcom. I shrugged, opened the package, and took a bite. It tasted like apple, if someone who had never heard of fruit read a printed description of an apple in a book. The bits were chewy but edible... barely, just as he promised. The Pip-Boy on my forearm crackled a quiet burst of static for a moment, but I ignored it. I was very hungry, and there was a generous portion in the box. Just as I was finishing up, the double door leading to the landing opened and a new person walked into the room.

"You're late," Fahrenheit commented.

"Lay off, Fahr. I kept him up past his bedtime." Hancock chuckled. "Come on in, MacCready. Let's get this party started." He gestured to the other end of the couch where I was sitting.

The young man who stalked over to the couch was dressed in mud-spattered olive drab green with a long tattered leather duster belted snugly to his waist. An old Marine eight-point cap shaded his face. He was lean, almost scrawny in build, and not especially tall, but moved with a graceful strength that hinted to formidable combat prowess. He sat down, swinging a well-worn sniper rifle from his back to prop it between his knees. Nodding to Hancock, he looked over to me with a carefully guarded expression in his startlingly deep blue eyes. His face was narrow with high, sharply prominent cheekbones, and a slight frown framed by a thin light brown goatee. I met his flat gaze with what I hoped was a welcoming smile. He did not smile back, but one eyebrow raised slightly.