SUNSHINE | john hancock | fallout 4

[4] champion

╭┅┅┫ -ˋˏ *. ❂ .* ˎˊ- ┣┅┅╮
❝ ᴄʜᴀᴍᴘɪᴏɴ
ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴀ ʙᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ
ɪ'ʟʟ ʀɪsᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ
ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴏᴜɢʜ ᴛʜᴇ ᴊᴜɴɢʟᴇ
ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴅ
ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʟɪᴠᴇ ғᴏʀᴇᴠᴇʀ
ɪ'ʟʟ ʀɪsᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ
ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʀɪsɪɴɢ ᴜᴘ ❞
╰┅┅┫ -ˋˏ *. ❂ .* ˎˊ- ┣┅┅╯

Tall lamps bathed the room in a soft pink hue, and red curtains streamed down like waterfalls. People lounged on red couches with quilted backseats. Tables littered with alcohol, drugs, and cigarettes dotted the room.

The things that stood out were the loungers.

Inside those pods, people and ghouls alike rested with wires attached to their heads. The wires traveled through the back of the pods and climbed like vines across the floors, up the walls, and through the wooden rafters. One way or another, they connected to a very large terminal in the back corner of the hall. In front of each resting occupant was a terminal screen that projected a scene like a movie.

Underneath an extravagant chandelier in the center of the large hall was an older blonde woman in a feather dress sprawled on a sofa.

"Hey there, handsome," the woman spoke in an alluring voice. "Did you miss me?"

Hancock chuckled and raised her hand to his lips to kiss it tenderly. My eyes flickered between the pair, trying to figure out their relationship.. "Of course I did. Who wouldn't?"

"You here for a fix?"

While they talked, I watched the faces of the people in the pods. For some, the corner of their mouths twitched upwards into a faint smile, others unconsciously tightened their muscles and furrowed their brow; I assumed they were reliving something that no one else could see.

Hancock shook his head and motioned toward me. "Not this time. Got some business to attend to."

"This is Irma," He said, gesturing towards the lady. "She handles the transactions here at the Memory Den."

She smiled sweetly at me. "Nice to meet you. You must be the Vault Dweller?"

I nodded, "That's me. So what exactly is this place?"

"Well, it's no secret that Goodneighbor's known for its chems. But here at the Memory Den, we offer a different kind of high." She gestured around the large room grandly. "These pods allow people to relive their past. But I don't let just anyone in. Reliving memories can be. . .traumatic."

"Oh, no. I'm not interested in that," I couldn't stop the trace of anxiety seeping into my tone. I would never want to relive the events at Vault 109. I swallowed and attempted to regain my composure. "I'm here for Nick."

Her eyes softened. "The old synth's doing just fine, sweetheart." She gestured to a room with a red door behind her. "He's in the spare room."

I didn't wait for Irma to finish what she was saying. Leaving Hancock to chat with her, I pushed open the door within seconds.

My bag, along with Nick's, rested in a corner of the room. Next to our bags was a coat stand that held Nick's trench coat and fedora. Nick reclined on the bed with his head elevated on a pillow, his glowing yellow eyes fixed on the ceiling. His synthetic hand rested behind his head, and a cigarette dangled between the fingers of his metal hand. Instead of his typical tattered trench coat, he wore a white shirt. Various wires extended from underneath the shirt and either fed into a terminal or were connected to an IV stand that pumped. . .coolant (?) into Nick.