"Stay for dinner, we haven't had guests in so long." The bear is back and it's no surprise as to why no one has set foot in here for two centuries.
I'm sure the ones that have are stuffed in the back corners, decomposing. These guys would probably feed me their corpses.
"I-I can't! I need to get home, it's late." Before I know it, the four phantoms encircle me, each figure twitching unnaturally.
"Stay w-w-w-w-with us tonight! CAN'T GO HOME. I looooooove sleepovers!"
"Yar, we can share ghost stories. NO ONE HEARD ME SCREAM."
I'm no pushover. I've been through hell and back to save my little boy (whom I'm still searching for) and these ghosts are nothing compared to the hell I've seen roaming the streets.
The whiplash of going from a perfect modern world to wastelands in the blink of an eye was enough to give me nightmares. These guys? They are nothing.
Sucking in a deep breath, I holster my gun finally. "You want to find your mommy? Well, she ain't here. You know what else isn't here? The fucks I give.
Go pretend you're something worth cowering over somewhere else." At long last, silence ebbs from the dead animatronics.
They gawk at me as if I were the one who was floating around and showed a lack of limb. Not the other way around.
Being in the "Commonwealth" as they called it now, has hardened my personality and while I do feel mortality, I'm not afraid for my life at the hands of these buffoons.
Hence, why I'm more likely to jump out of my skin at whatever was banging at the wood earlier. At least it was real. "Oh, and Bear Boy, you're a few centuries too late to scare me."
That last line is a jab at what he said earlier before jump scaring me. With a glare and the turn of a heel, I stroll back out of the building.
I've had enough ghosts and zombies to deal with for one night. Although, there is still one last zombie guy to visit before my next adventure. I owe him an apology.
The sun had slowly peeked the horizon of Massachusetts by the time I arrived back at camp. MacCready waved from his guard post as I entered through my homemade gates of Sanctuary Hills.
"Find anything new, boss? Collect any gunner heads?"
"Nothing worth your time, Mungo (it's an inside joke between us. Something he called adults when he was young). Where's Hancock?"
"I last saw him skipping stones further up the stream. Hey, is it true he really ate a chip from-"
"Ugh, your job doesn't consist of flapping your jaw, MacCready." I wave him off and follow through with my conquest in locating Hancock.
Sure enough, the ghoul fancying a tricorn was crouching over the ledge and still tossing rocks into the water.
"Isn't it a little early in the morning to be looking so depressed?" A sly, yet fatigued smirk is displayed across my face. My voice catches his attention instantaneously.
Hancock stands in his boots, a castaway expression very clear. "I'm sorry. I was taking things way too far this time."
Oh God, I thought leaving him here yesterday would send a clear message. Not break his ribs and yank out his heart! "Yeah, that sucked pretty bad, but I was overreacting.
I've come back with a level head and a story you wouldn't believe. I'm pretty sure I found a haunted children's pizzeria just outside of Boston.
There were ghosts and a haywire animatronic leftover from the pre-war days." Despite the sun's golden glow, goosebumps coat my skin.
"They were talking about murder, I think, and losing their parents."
The silence between us is thick and heavy on my shoulders. When I don't get an immediate response, I look up to face him.
That little crap is literally trying to hold back his laughter! "Well, it sounds like you've been taking one too many hits of jet.
" Grrrr! Has he learned nothing the entire time I was gone? With balled fists, I shove his shoulders rather forcefully.
The result is Hancock tripping over his own feet and falling backwards into the water.
When he resurfaces, he's without a hat. I'd kill to have one of those wigs he was dropping on people's heads yesterday right about now. "It's pretty nice in here.
I think you should take a dip just to cool off that temper." Now he's fishing for his historical accessory that was floating along with the current.
Once he collects it, Hancock pushes off the riverbed and rushes after me. Oh no no no-
"Don't you even- Hey, let me go!"
This guy has surprising strength. Let's just say I spent some time drying myself off afterwards. While we had made up and all was forgiven, my mind was still deeply troubled.
I'm not quaking with fear...
but the unknown factor of what went down in that building many years ago and what else might be lurking in the halls of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza has me rolling in my bed.
It's the kind of mystery that would call for Nick Valentine's expertise.
I suppose this means I'll be paying another visit.