The Streets of Boston - Chapter 16: Backstreet Fling

  • December 3, 2287


    It was a beautiful saturday evening in the outskirts of Diamond City. A palette of crimson, citrus, gold and lavender painted the Charles and the sparse clouds that drifted above it. In older times it would have been the perfect moment to watch newborn couples walk along the riverfront in full display of affection, sitting on one of the wooden benches along the path, in the shadow of an oak shedding its leaves or welcoming the first snow. But these were not older times. The world had gone to shit and so had everything else.


    It was time for me to avenge my lifestyle. The apocalypse had killed off my tailor and these ruffians had destroyed his sanctuary. Last time I came here I couldn’t do a thing, but I’ve seen how these raiders fight; like bumbling fucking idiots. Especially the ones on Psycho are so goddamn predictable. Remind me to verify if my new recruits are clean, can’t have them sampling the merchandise now can we?


    Anyway, I checked my gear as I walked down the waterfront. Two pulse grenades for the turrets, one for the outside and one as a backup for inside. A whole bag of .45 ammo and a few extra clips for my revolver. Yeah that should do. It was my last stop before my return to the office. I had to make sure the idiots that now worked for me wouldn’t go around decorating my home with their horrible taste. At least I filtered out the stupid ones... Nah who am I kidding, I killed the biggest offenders and kept the rest.


    I am afraid I have taken quite a liking to the mindless massacre of these idiots. It is quite exhilarating. Usually I would spare one or two but today was going to be different; no mercy from the Suit today. I smiled, it had been a while since I went to backstreets, but hell how different this visit was going to be.


    As a show of respect to the late owner of the establishment I made sure to don my best suit and tie. I adjusted my fedora and took the black scarf out of my bag. I tied it around my neck and face in such a way that only my eyes appeared from under my hat. Can’t have any accidental survivors recognizing me in Diamond city, that would be a waste of a good reputation.


    I had spent the better part of the last two weeks doing odd jobs around Diamond city. I’ll be honest, most of those tasks were below me, and were the kind of things I would usually leave to my subordinates while I would cozy up to the important people. But alas, I’m pretty much certain all my grunts died when the idiots in charge pushed their big red buttons.


    Actually that was one of the reasons why I had been performing these stupid chores; I had been recruiting raiders into my organisation. Sure, they didn’t possess the style of my old employees and worse yet, they were all but discreet. But it was a start. And sadly that was all I would get. What I wouldn’t do for a Grady or a Newton...


    In the meantime, apparently some gentleman had been out there hunting raiders to near extinction, at least in the diamond city area of town. According to the few raiders that survived and turned themselves in to the diamond city guard for protection; idiots, the Suit, as they called him, was a brutal murderer, killing all but the smartest or the strongest of the different raider groups and inviting them to a derelict building in Boston. Strangely enough they had all died before they could reveal the exact location of this new raider nest. Go figure. I suppressed a grin.


    Diamond city was in uproar, people were afraid of what this Suit might have in store for them. Mercs and bounty hunters refused jobs, afraid of getting caught in the crossfire between a raider group and the illustrious individual. And the city guard had been pulling double duties hoping they wouldn’t get caught in their sleep. All in all, it seemed all the tables turned in my favour; the prices for the chores I had been performing skyrocketed soon after the Suit started his sinister operations. So not only did I get quite a bid of money from these rather dull chores, it also gave me quite the courageous reputation around town. Bravery however, necessits fear to exist. I, unlike the diamond city plebeians didn’t fear the Suit, why would I?


    The Suit was but a figment of the imagination of a raider, a smart little sobriquet they gave an individual who was a lot more dangerous than their phantom; Me.


    My thoughts were interrupted by an annoying squeal as I turned the corner to Backstreet apparel.


    “Hey, you! This is a our territory, you better fuck off or…” A single shot from my trusty revolver solved that little problem.


    “Haven’t you heard the news?” I replied, “Boston is mine now.” Another shot. “Oh, sorry I forgot the press is dead.” I grinned ‘“but then again, so are you”. These recruitment runs were so invigorating.


    Another two raiders approached, furious. And to my regret I’ll have to admit that for a second they had me at a disadvantage. But a quick dive into cover and a well aimed wave of .45 helped me regain the advantage.


    “Shit, Shit, Shit!” I hear from behind the ledge they cowered behind. “That’s the Suit everyone’s been talking about!” The raider had his back pushed against the concrete. Hoping the turret on the roof would provide them some cover. A loud Zap and a clear scent of molten electronics extinguished that flame.


    “You have been using way too much jet, that can’t be him!” The other replied, blindly shooting in my general direction.


    “Well have a look yourself then, he’s wearing one of those fancy ass suits we found when we took over this place.” The first claimed.


    “Wait where is he?” The second exclaimed, a drop of fear rolling down his throat.


    Moments later a small bell rang as I walked in, sadly this time I wasn’t welcomed by the welcoming frown of good old Ted, but rather by a series of gasps and a hail of bullets. Oh was I glad Ted got an armored door installed after some of the families brought a small dispute of inheritance into his establishment. Hell I even paid for it. A great return on an investment if you ask me.


    Now was the time for some concentration. From the insults and petty threats being hurled at me there was no doubt there were at least two raiders in the store itself. Furthermore it seemed like one of the shooters had a great sense of rhythm, either that or it was a turret. Which, in this case was the most likely scenario. I doubt these idiots had any musical virtuosos in their ranks, but then again who knows I might be surprised. I laughed as I tossed a pulse grenade through the door, quickly shutting it behind me.


    As soon as I heard the zap I stormed in. The turret was out of order and the pulse had clearly hit the raiders as well. I still remember when one of my old rivals used one of the things on me back in the day. Felt the bloody current stream through my muscles for days on end. I’m sure these raiders would be happy if I did them the favour of sparing them the pain, don’t you think?


    I ran over to end their suffering as I felt something hit my ankle, followed by a sickening click. From the corner of my eyes I saw a series of wires and improvised gears turn and churn. Fuck.


    Once the dust settled down, two raiders carefully walked into the store proper from the back storage. “You think he’s dead?” I heard one of them whisper. Oh they were going to be surprised. To be honest so was I. As many of my past conquests will concur, I love both giving and receiving bouquets. That was until I first learned of the existence of grenade bouquets. I managed to slip over the counter before they detonated, my legs took the brunt of the impact and I hit my head as I touched down but other than that I seem to be fine. Oh was I glad stimpaks were invented.


    “Well, I don’t hear him, do you?” Fearful feet tread the sacred halls as I lay there, recuperating and trying to find the best way of going at this. My eyes fell upon one of Ted’s old tailor’s scissors…


    I pushed the old holotape into it’s slot and enjoyed the perfect harmony between “Take the A train” from Duke Ellington and the raiders jumping in surprise.


    “What the …” One of them exclaimed.


    “I’m sorry to disappoint you but I am, as you can see far from dead.” I laughed. “You however, have sinned, and unlike the preachers I hate the sinner and the sin.” I used their surprise to throw Ted’s old scissors at the closest raider. And fabulously missed.


    The raiders looked sheepishly at the scissors planted in the wall behind them. Well fuck, let’s just fall back on what I know, clearly assassination by tailoring supplies is not for me. However, assassination by submachine gun salve…


    I stood victorious over a destroyed turret and four bodies, two of them still clearly agonizing, but after their little prank with the tripwire I don’t feel like doing them any favours. Already the stairs up to the apartment Ted rented out were echoing with footsteps and I was out of grenades. All I could do was make a stand and hope for the best. Shouldn’t be any problem.


    I made sure my clips were all full and that my revolver was loaded. It was time for a good old shootout. I’m sorry Ted, but I’m afraid this needs to be done, I doubt Ted’s dusty corpse was still around, after all at the time of impact he would have been at Franky’s downtown, enjoying a good breakfast.


    Moments later I danced to the rhythm of the music through a stairway of bodies. Upstairs seemed silent so I advanced. At this point I was just verifying none of the offenders had survived my onslaught. My suit was drenched in blood and cologne, sadly some of the blood was mine. A bullet got lodged in my arm and without some proper tools, me removing it was not going to happen.


    The door to the apartments swung open without a problem. And to my surprise I found out that the raider chief who had elected residence up here had already met her end. And quite the beautiful end it was I wondered as I watched her go through the drawers of an old desk. Her beautiful hair and elegant posture complemented the albeit somewhat rough and dirty suit she wore; it fit like a glove and seemed to have been made specifically for her. The bowler hat on her crown was ever so slightly tipped.


    “And who might you be ?” I asked, my faithful revolver pointed at the magnificent creature I just found. “I’ve had a bit too much to drink but I still trust my senses enough to know you’re not a raider”. The woman turned around and met my gaze.

    “You have some very keen eyes, what gave it away? My above average fashion sense, or my rosy scent?” she replied, “I presume you are the famous suit everyone is going on about.” She leaned in and stroked the side of my head with her cheek. My nose buried in her beautiful black hair, which surprisingly enough smelled indeed like roses. Her right hand passed down my back while her left made its way onto my hip.

    “You presume correctly, but now that you know my alias, might I ask for yours?” I whispered, my hand still firmly pressed onto my weapon.

    “They call me Arsène”

    “An odd name for such a beautiful lady” I answered, but before I had finished my sentence, I found myself looking down the end of a barrel; my revolver’s barrel. I felt the sudden weight of lightened pockets. And as by magic the name fell into place.

    “A fellow fan of literature I see.”

    “Certainly Mr. Lafoy, in fact literature is the reason you’re finding yourself in your predicament.” A Mona Lisa smile skilfully painted across her visage “Oh, don’t be worried, I won’t tell anyone about your little secret, my lips are sealed.”

    “Would you mind if I verify?” this time it was my turn to step over the raider corpse and lean into her, but a swift pas de deux put her out of my range.

    “Well tried, but I’m afraid you’ll just have to trust me Simon.” She walked over to a coffee table in the middle of the room, taking care not to let her guard down. Contrary to the local raiders she seemed to know who she was dealing with. A refreshing perspective.

    To my surprise she picked an old comic from the table and hid it away in a steel cylinder she took out of her bag.

    “You call that literature?”

    “That question is not for me to ask, I have been asked to retrieve this and I will deliver. Isn’t that the kind of trait you would look for in an employee, Mr. Lafoy?”


    “Are you suggesting you want us to spend some more time together?” An arrogant smile painted across my face.


    She smiled in response, and after she made sure the lid on her metal tube was tightened, she turned back to face me, and seized me up, I could feel her eyes devour me. However, my revolver was still in her hands, not leaving me out of its sight. The traitor.


    “Maybe, maybe not.” She approached and caressed my cheek.


    I grasped her as if I had just invited her to dance and proposed a rendez-vous galant as they called it in Paris, “In that case let me convince you, what about a night out in the city, just you, me, the moon and whatever the apocalypse left in store for us?”


    “A very tempting offer, believe me when I tell you I wouldn’t want to miss it for the world, but we both know how fickle worlds have become. So maybe another time?”


    She smiled and before I knew it, she undid herself from my grasp and left the room through the door to the roof. Before she closed it though, she turned around and whispered: “Au revoir Mr.Lafoy”, blew me a kiss and hung something from the doorknob, the shape was all too familiar; a holotape.. I followed her up to the roof and saw her disappear over the rooftops. I put her holotape into my pipboy and sat back as I enjoyed its content: “Strangers in the night” by Sinatra.

    What a night to meet a stranger.

     

Comments

2 Comments   |   Karver the Lorc and 5 others like this.
  • Karver the Lorc
    Karver the Lorc   ·  September 19, 2016
    Beautiful creature. Seems like Simon finally met an equal. Or maybe someone superior? :)
  • The Long-Chapper
    The Long-Chapper   ·  September 18, 2016
    Epic. Just epic. Does much flailing and squeeing.  :D