The King of Boston

Chapter 4: Wish and you shall receive

"Wish and you shall receive," I mumbled, looking down at the corpse lying at my feet while I strapped the pip-boy to my wrist. My victim was wearing a strange blue jumpsuit and had quite a few battle scars. He told me he used to be military. Can't have been too high of a rank. Moron didn't notice the gun I had been pointing at him until it was too late. I've been getting awefully rusty. I missed his forehead and the bullet had instead hit the poor man's eye, it exploded and covered my old lair in gruesome paste, it was utterly disgusting.

I hated it when things got that messy. At least it would be a nice test to see if those huge crabs downstairs were anthropophagous... How had he called them? Mirelurks or something, I believe. I picked up the body, and carried it to the ledge. Either I was out of form or this guy was heavier than he seemed to be, probably both. I can't remember when I had to get rid of a body in person, that had been at least more than 210 years, I used to have goons for that. Well I guess that in some way I still had, I thought as I threw the body down into the semi-flooded streets to see the crabs hastily rip it apart. It seems they appreciated my gift. Good. Perhaps we could still come to an agreement after all.

I sat back in my chair and looked at the spectacle beneath me, a cigar in hand and a holotape ready to be played by my brand new pip boy, let's see... What a wonderful world seemed appropriate. After all, today had been a good day.

I had decided not to leave the building today, but I had started making this place mine again. I had been going through all I had left and had emptied the cellar of the wine and ammo I used to store there, the Mirelurks might as well keep it. Especially if we were going to continue this new agreement of ours.

I had some Salisbury steak for lunch, honestly I would rather not have, it was still fine to eat, but somehow that was exactly the problem I was having, eating that two centuries old meat (it was meat right?) could not be good for your health.

And after Lunch, I had started clearing out my vault, I dismantled the bookshelves, I might be able to use that lumber to fix up the roof of my office a bit, took out the rugs and managed to attach them in such a way that they covered parts of the missing walls. And finally, as the sun started to sink behind the Mass fusion building, I hauled out what remained of the sofa and set it on fire. A mostly symbolic act, but it was nice to have that bit of extra warmth. And as I sat there, appreciating (as far as possible) a can of pork and beans I had scavenged from the cafeteria, thinking that it was too bad the coffee beans had spoiled long ago as I would have appreciated a nice cup, a man appeared.

Yes, of all things you would expect to happen when you're having a fine (?) dinner in the office after armageddon, getting interrupted wasn't one. Yet there he stood, in his strange jumpsuit and pip-boy.

I don't think he knew I had seen him already because he was a bit startled when I spoke to him.

"Can't you knock?" I complained.

"The door was already open, and well I didn't expect to find someone like you" He replied, once he recovered from the surprise.

"Someone like me? Alive you mean? Well, I return the feeling." I joked, joking was really some strange behaviour for someone who hadn't had a real discussion for over a century.

"No, I mean friendly," The stranger answered, "If I were you, I would put out that fire, there are some muties in the area and you wouldn't want them to come over to investigate."

"As long as they aren't bulletproof I'll be fine," who did this guy think he was to start giving me advice?

"Have you ever seen a super mutant? It wouldn't surprise me if those bastards turned out to be bulletproof honestly," he paused "Anyway if you aren't gonna put it out, could I at least join? Don't worry I brought my own food," he continued and sat down next to the fire without awaiting my response. This guy didn't understand that I wouldn't be friendly for much longer if he was going to continue being so rude.

"Well go ahead then, don't mind me," I snarled "Please tell me, what is that?" I asked, pointing at the lumps of meat he took out of his shoulder bag. I saw the fainted letters and symbol of the Boston post on it, but I didn't believe for a second that this guy was a postman.

"It's Mirelurk, you know those creatures outside," He answered.

"I didn't really think you could eat them, but it makes sense, crabs used to be delicious. Anyway, who are you?" I inquired, after all I liked to know someone's name before I shot them.

"I'm a wanderer," He stopped and took a bit of time to seize me up "I used to be a soldier but I haven't found anything worth fighting for yet, not in this hell hole of a wasteland, and who are you?"

"You really didn't even look at the door, did you? I'm Simon Lafoy." I stated.

I was a bit surprised when he started laughing. Yep, this guy was definitively getting himself some free lead.

"Oh great, I stumbled upon another madman, as if the wastes weren't full enough of them already, you should go to Diamond city, or better yet Good Neighbor, they'll take care of you." He smiled, swallowing a bite of Mirelurk meat.

"Has anyone ever told you you were rude? Or just plain stupid? I guess you don't know who I am then" I said, the anger boiling behind my eyes. I could not stand this kind of assholes, and their lack of respect.

"Oh I know who Simon Lafoy was, and I'm pretty sure he's dead. Used to fuck his wife back in Sanctuary. He was at the head of a large publishing house based out of this building I believe, although there were some rumors of him being involved in some less than legal activities. But well that was two hundred years ago, I tell you, he's dead." He declared.

"You fucked Julie Lafoy?" I asked in disbelief, how could this piece of shit have slept with my Julie? He was what, barely thirty years old, he was definitively no Cabbot, there was no way he actually slept with her. Sure I wanted to kill her, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to protect my honour as a husband.

"Long story" He laughed. "Wench used to cry my name out loud when we did it, said her husband was never home to please her"

"Would you be interested in hearing a long story, if you aren't going to tell any?" I replied, the laughter in my voice had disappeared. If that idiot had cared to listen, he would have noticed it had grown cold. As cold as it always did when I prepared to off someone. I was back and that guy would learn to fear me before I sent him back to meet his maker.

"Go ahead."

"It's a story of a man, who survives armageddon, and lives for a very long time. Isolated and imprisoned he almost turns mad, yet when he is finally released from his cell, two centuries later, the first guy he meets claims to have slept with his wife. Do you really want to know the rest of the story?" I asked as I stood up and pointed my revolver at his damn ugly face.

"Do you mean... Are you really him?" He uttered as fear set in.

A gust of wind blew into my office and swept away the long hair covering my face and he swallowed his last bite of meat. He might have pissed his pants as well, the body did have the give-away smell.

This was what I liked most about my job, seeing the fear in their eyes as I prepared to take away everything they were. That feeling of power was reinvigorating. I laughed and I pulled the trigger.

I still wondered what that number on his back meant; 111. Probably not important.