I Do Think It's Kind Of Sweet That With Google Broken Beyond Repair, People Have Resorted To The Tried

The Missing Piece

Chapter 1: Just A Tingle

Chapter Summary: It's been a long time since Hancock wasted his time thinking about soulmates. Until the night Nick brings a woman from a vault into his town.

Wordcount: 2481

Chapter Index:

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9

Masterlist

The night air is cool against Hancock’s overheated skin. The sweet taste of mentats dances all over his rough tongue while he's leaning on the balustrade of his balcony. The streets below him are mostly empty except for only a few loner souls wandering around.

Behind him, he can hear his office door getting closed silently, careful not to attract attention. John has a smile on the remains of his lips as he lights up the cigarette. It's not like everyone in the Old State House heard him doing that gal just a few minutes ago.

There was no need to go outside for a smoke, but John wanted to give that woman some privacy to get dressed again and the said toy’s just left. Lover would be a too hard word for that lass, what was her name again? Never mind, toy is as a fitting name as any other and John doesn't intend to learn her actual name anyway. It was just a one night stand, like always. No strings, just hurried sex for the sake of the release.

The ghouls smile slowly fades and he takes a long drag, the gleam of the cigarette the only light source up there. The smoke fills his lungs and is kept in there for a long moment, before getting exhaled through John's broken and scarred nostrils.

On the street below, he can see the gal from before hurrying to the hotel. Poor thing probably doesn't want to be seen escaping the Old State House this late in the night. John's eyes linger on her as she makes her way. Red ginger hair, freckles on her nose, cute but other than that? Meh. Nothing that would keep his interest for long. And obviously she doesn't want a second run herself, if her lowered gaze and fast steps are any indicator.

In times past this would have hurt him, no one wants to be known as a ghoul fucker, even if the ghoul was the damned mayor of the damned city they were living in. But John doesn’t really complain in his position. After all, quite a lot of folks found their way into his bed regardless.

Sure, all of them were seeking something - power, caps, chems, you name it. But John’s not naive, he knows they are always trying to gain something from him with sex. And that’s something he can use for his own advantage. He'd sleep with them and wave them out, simple as that. With no shame or regret really. Most of the time he doesn't even bother to get undressed, removed sash and open pants are enough to get the job done.

After another long drag, John tries to think of something else, there is no point in indulging in reminiscences of past releases. Almost automatically his eyes wander down to his left underarm. His scarred skin, all grooves and ridges ruined the name that used to be there long ago.

For whatever reason the very spot of what used to be pitch black letters doesn't stop tingling. He first noticed it when things got heated between him and the little toy a while ago. His eyes instantly went to her arm. Veronica. John didn't know if should laugh or feel pity for her.

After all this years he didn't give one single fuck about soulmates. Why should he? Even if there was someone with his name on their arm, he'd scare them right away, no doubt. He knows what he looks like and if he is honest with himself, that's the main reason for staying dressed when fucking gals he most likely won't remember the next morning.

Damn, he should have taken jet instead of mentats, he is not in the mood of overthinking this bullshit, for stupid emotions. And he doesn't believe in finding his mate anyway. For a soulmate you actually have to harbor a soul and John is more than certain he's lost his in Diamond City. Well, if you are believing in the spiritual part of that, which he doesn’t also. The tingling is most likely just a symptom of his drug abuse, it has to be.

With the burning smoke captured between his lips, he traces the line of where the name used to be with his free hand. Sotiria. What a fucking odd name. Never, not once has he ever met someone with that name. Sure, better a rare one than those everyone seems to call their kids nowadays, like Lisa, Mike - or John. Fuck, how many gals and guys has he seen with his name on their arm? And fucking allways he felt hope inside him rising. Pathetic.

But there was never a connection, not the weird feelings people used to describe once they found their missing piece. A pleasant prickle of the name on each other's arm. The attraction, the unsatisfiable need to be close to the person - like an addiction.

Maybe it's just an itch. Yeah, that sounds plausible.

Suddenly there is yelling at the gate of his town, catching Hancock's attention. Was that Nick Valentine’s voice? What the hell is he doing in Goodneighbor this late in the night? John flicks the butt of his cigarette away and goes back inside. He grabs a new pack of smokes on his way to the stairs. He'd prefer alcohol right now but one of his supply lines got cut by raiders, a problem he has to deal with tomorrow. Hm, maybe buffout? That's a topic for later, first of all he has to know what is going on at the gate.

The tingling on his arm seems to increase as he takes the steps down to the exit of the State House. When he opens the door, the guy Finn can be heard talking. Hancock rolls his eyes, Finn is doing his old insurance scam again. Damn this idiot, does he really dare to threaten his visitors again? Finn already got a warning and is really testing Hancock's patience. Looks like John will have to send a few guards to visit him later. A quick reminder to behave inside the town's walls.

Once stepping outside, John’s eyes land on the new visitors. It sure was Nick Valentine’s voice he’s heard but the old synth is not alone. A woman is with him, one arm around Nick’s shoulders for balance and her other pressed on her abdomen. Blood is leaking out of what seems to be a nasty wound, turning her blue suit crimson red. She looks up from her wound towards Finn.

Damn, she's a sight! She looks like she’s stepped out of one of the pinup posters. Blonde, shiny hair, pinned up in various rolls, a light blue bandana wrapped around as decoration, sharp eyeliner, purple lipstick, curves to die for. Damnit, if she wouldn't look so disheveled and injured - injured?

"Fuck your insurance! Move, rassgat or you’ll gonna need one!”

John is blown away. He’s forgetting how to breathe, his lungs are burning from the lack of oxygen.

John immediately snapps out of his trance. Shit, that woman needs a doctor at once!

"Nice try, doll." Finn sneers at her. "You'll pass out before you could raise your little pistol. Caps or bleeding to death, your call, sugar."

That's enough! Line crossed, brother. John is more than fed up, ready to beat Finn out of the misery he calls life. "Move your worthless ass out of the way, Finn." John starts, walking up to the other man. "You lay off that extortion crap right now. Obviously she needs help and we ain't turning people in need away, nor do we threaten 'em."

Not impressed in the slightest, Finn turns to face the ghoul. "The fuck do you care, Hancock? You don't know her, she ain't one of us, would be a waste of stimpacks!"

Slowly and a bit over dramatically Hancock moves further towards the stupid bastard. "Better keep your tongue in your mouth! I said she can pass."

Finn crosses his arms over his chest, not stepping to the side like he was told to. He even straightens up, trying to look intimidating. "Soft, Hancock. Way too soft. Keep letting scum enter our city, let them benefit from our supplies. But one day there will be a new mayor."

John just huffs a laugh. That daring asshole. "Heh, lemme tell you something, brother." With the flash of a smile the ghoul comes closer and when he is close enough to smell the jet in Finn’s breath, he rams a knife into his chest. Twice, no better make it thrice, for good measure. Finn is dead before he hits the ground, blood slowly pooling around him.

"Quick." John stresses. "Bring her to Amari in the Memory Den."

Nick nods and tries to help the woman walk through the street. John takes the lead, while cleaning his knife off of Finn. "Sorry for the harsh welcome, this probably wasn't the best first impression but the rest of us are civilized - usually."

John can hear Nick snicker behind him. "Uh-huh, always making a show, huh, Hancock?"

"You know me, Nicky. Ain't gone miss a chance to show off." Although Hancock is playing cool and collected, he is everything but at the moment. His arm is killing him. The tingle got really bad, now it feels like tiny electric shocks are running through his skin and flesh. That's not tingling anymore and it's starting to get fucking annoying. He'll have to talk to the Doc himself later, maybe his last batch of psycho was bad. But didn't he use his right arm? Hm, maybe -

"Damnit, Blue! Stay awake!"

Nick's sudden panicked voice brings Hancock’s mind back to the street. He turns around to find the Synth trying to stabilize the woman. "Shit, we better fuckin' hurry!" Hancock says, when Nick quickly picks her up, carrying her.

Both men start to run towards the Memory Den. John slams through the door, holding it open for Nick and Blue to enter. Was that her Name?

"There!" John points at Irmas chair in the middle of the room. "Lay her down there. Doc! Quick, got an emergency in here."

Nick carefully puts Blue down onto the lounger. His clothes are blood soaked as well. Hell, she lost a lot of it.

"My lounger!" Irma yells in anger when she enters the room as well, woken up by all the noise.

Doctor Amari storms into the room with a bed head and in her pajamas. "What's going on, what happened?" She asks. Hancock just nods at the lounger and the doctor quickly moves over to Blue.

“A gunshot wound.” Valentine answers. “Got ambushed by Supermutants. We had the upper hand until they sent a suicider. We had to retreat but she got hit before we found cover."

John rolls his coal eyes. "I'll buy you a new one." Damn, she's really worried about that stupid piece of furniture, while the girl is bleeding to death?

“Looks like the bullet got caught in her rip.” Amari tells them. She takes a pair of thin tongs out of her bag and buries them into Blue’s flesh.

Irma is about to argue about that, when Amari orders her to shut up and get her medi-bag. While still mumbling to herself, Irma is doing what she’s been told and hands her friend the bag.

The doctor skips on the gloves and gets straight to work. Everyone watches Armari unzipping the woman's suit in order to get better access to the wound. Hancock recognizes the suit, she's a vault dweller? Vaulties usually never leave 81, what the hell was she doing out here and in company of a synth?

Irma gags before she quickly turns around, covering her mouth. "I want a giant couch after this!" She glares at Hancock before heading for her bedroom again.

"There you are." The doctor smiles slightly when she removes the tongs with the bullet inbetween it. She drops her equipment on the ground and continues. After a quick inspection of the wound, she gets two stimpacks out of her bag and injects them on each side of the lesion. The tissue starts growing back together but only very slowly. Amari frowns at that, this doesn’t look too good. With quick hands she wraps a bandage around Blues middle. “Alright, all done.”

"Will she make it?" Both Nick and John ask in unison.

The doctor nods in confirmation. "Yes, but she'll need rest, a lot of it. It was a very close call, she’s lost a big amount of blood. Two weeks of strict bed rest would be the best for now."

“No problem, Nick.” Amari smiles at him for a moment, before continuing to search her bag. She returns back to Blue, after she found what she’s been looking for. She rolls up Blues sleeve on her right arm and injects a dose of sedatives. This way the vault dweller should sleep through the majority of the pain. Amari zips the suit back up and covers the sleeping woman with a blanket.

Nick lets out an artificial breath in relief. John can't recall having seen the synth that distressed ever before. Must have been a hell of a fight. "Hey, Nicky, go and get a room in the Rexford. At my expense." John knows synths don’t sleep, but Nick seem to be in need for some space to cool down.

“Thanks, John.” Nick gladly takes the offer. “And thank you as well, doctor.”

“Nicky, don’t worry,” John grabs Nick’s shoulder, trying to sooth him. “We're gonna take care of her.”

Nick only nods a few times before patting John’s shoulder in return, his silent thanks. After one last glance at the sleeping blonde, Nick eventually takes his leave, disappearing through the door.

“Your arm.” She turns around to face him. “You kept rubbing it the whole time. Bad batch?”

“Alright, Mayor. What was it this time?” Amari asks while gathering her equipment.

John raises a nonexistent eyebrow in question. “What was what?”

Only now does Hancock realize he’s holding his left arm. “Heh. Can’t do shit unnoticed by you, huh?”

He tries to play it off, but Amari won't let go. “Come one, let me check you.” Amari stands up and moves to her office. “Bare your arm, Hancock. You probably missed the vein again.”

Hancock follows Amari into her office. On his way he decides that he doesn't care about the name.

Hm, yeah. Maybe he missed it.

John takes one final look at the vaultie. For a moment he considers to roll up her other sleeve and have a look on the letters of her arm. But something's holding him back. Maybe his deeply flawed conscience. Afterall he can’t just put his hands on a blacked out woman, also the name of someone's piece is a very intimate matter. He has no right to know.

Soulmates are bullshit.

Masterlist

Chapter Index:

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9

so....vampirism. by medical definition, an STD. we are agreed, yes?

"I feel so normal about him" well I dont. move

Me, plunking Stinky Bastard Man’s carrier on the counter: hi he’s here for shots and a nail trim and he’ll need to be sedated

Nurse: Are you sure? We can try-

Me: he needs to be sedated

Nurse: Well, it’ll take longer-

Me: he needs to be sedated, he will try to rip your face off

Nurse: Well we’ll try without first and we’ll let you know if we need to sedate

Me, watching her carry him away: you will need to sedate him

Nurse, coming back 10 minutes later clutching her hand: so, we will need to sedate him

Me:

sooo i found out Oatchi dances when you hold A :3c

🪄🕯️🪐

"syd you're just insane about hands" alright fair but have we considered Miraak with hands scarred and stained in ink. have we considered him scribbling notes on his forearm and his fingers digging into his hair to keep it out of his face. have we considered Miraak doing The Hand Flex because he's absolutely touch starved but he can't make the first move so he's just stuck pining and yearning.

we're fully just codependent w him now huh

one of my sonas, mango limon (were-cat)