The Declaration, Great Lanta

"I gotta say, I could get used to this place, Hancock," Crichton, the current head of the Neigborhood Watch, remarked as he marveled at their neighbor across the street. Hancock took a deep breath of his joint, and let out the smoke slowly. They'd gotten here about a week ago, and immediately set upon creating their own drug den and bar. It was providing a good number of caps, but Hancock was making sure his people were getting fed, so it didn't seem like they'd be getting a fortune unless they got an infusion of caps sometime soon to expand.

"I thought Diamond City was what civilization was like," Hancock admitted, "But after this? Man, up north we're still crawling through our own filth. Can't believe they built all this in a month."

"That casino's something else," Fahrenheit agreed.

"You know, if things were different, I'd stay, start my own casino. Show these NCR guys how to really party," Hancock said, "But…That's not the path we chose. We chose to be part of the United Commonwealth. We chose to build something. And like hell I'm gonna let someone take that choice away from us. I'm a founding father, god dammit, and I'm gonna sign my John Hancock on Arthur Maxson's tombstone. Like hell I'm gonna sit around getting high, waiting for that prick to come and kill me. Lanta's great. I like what the NCR boys have done to fix things up for people. But this is our revolution. We're going to take our country back."

The others all nodded and cheered at Hancock's speech, stomping feet and banging tankards of beer.

"Hey Boss? We got a robot out front. Says he's here to talk to you," a Neighborhood Watchman said.

"Show him in," Hanock ordered, and a large, blue robot with one wheel rolled in.

"Hi there! You must be John Hancock! My name is Yes Man! I'm here to deliver an invitation to you and your people from the proprietor of the 52 Fortune! Isn't that great?"

The Securitron produced an envelope with a shiny trim and a red wax seal. Hancock broke it, and read the letter. It was an invitation to visit the upper VIP levels of the 52 Fortune, where they'd have access to all their features specially reserved for them. Normally, there was a waiting list for the drug den and to meet with the companion, but they would get special attention in the VIP section. There would be a gambling tournament, live music, food and alcohol, the whole nine yards.

"What's the catch?" Hancock asked.

"You're not the only attendee, and the proprietor has asked that you, yourself, remain lucid enough to engage in high-level discussions," Yes Man said, "But your friends are welcome to enjoy themselves."

"This could be the break we've been looking for," Crichton pointed out.

"It could be a trap," Fahrenheit added.

"We gotta take that chance," Hancock said, "I'll go, if my bodyguard comes with me to the discussions."

"I think we can work with that! The party is tonight. We look forward to seeing you! Have a wonderful day!" Yes Man turned and wheeled out of the Declaration again.

"I don't like this," Fahrenheit growled.

"Neither do I. I don't like not being able to do something about our situation. I don't like having someone else being able to lord opportunities over us. I hate that we don't have a say. But we don't have a choice," Hancock pointed out, "So, tonight, boys and girls? We party!"

52 Fortune, Great Lanta

That Night

Slots rang. People cheered, others groaned. Some moaned. The VIP section was filled with people of all walks of life. Some were dressed in prewar suits. Some were wearing colorful tribal outfits. Super Mutants and Ghouls. To Hancock's surprise, there were even people dressed in Brotherhood robes. It wasn't packed, but the VIP area was certainly busy. The crowd was enough to hide the heavy security that was everywhere. The waiters and waitresses were all packing weaponry. Guards lined the walls, and Securitrons were not far away.

"I'm here to speak with the 'proprietor?'" Hancock said to one of the guards.

"The meeting's not for a couple of hours. Please enjoy the party, Mr. Hancock," the guard told him. Hancock nodded, and turned back to it all. People from all walks of life were having the time of their lives. Even the Super Mutants seemed to be enjoying themselves at some kind of punching machine. Through the ruckus, a single laughing voice caught his hear. There was no way! He made his way to the noise, and stopped in his tracks when he came face to face with her.

"Mon dieu! Monsieur Hancock!" Curie gawked at him, eyes wide and jaw dropped. Hancock smiled, and before he could say anything, she had pressed him against that lovely, soft smoothskin body in that tight, red dress. He wasn't going to do anything inappropriate, of course. That didn't stop him from thinking anything inappropriate.

"Curie!" he said, breaking her grip just enough for him to take a breath, "It's so good to see you!"

"Oh, John, you absolutely must meet my new friends! You recall Dr. Virgil, of course. This is Midea and Wernher. They are the leaders of the Pitt, and they have been most generous to myself and the other Synths and members of the University from the Commonwealth," Curie shoved him in front of them. Wernher had white hair, a moustache, and an eyepatch. He was wearing a tuxedo. Midea was graying, wearing a blue dress that showed her shoulders and the start of her bosom. Virgil was wearing a white, tieless suit that he looked surprisingly suave in.

"Heya, good to meet you folks. I'm Hancock, mayor of Goodneighbor, and proprietor of the Third Rail and the Declaration," he offered his hand, which Wernher and Midea shook.

"Good to meet you. Curie's mentioned you," Midea said.

"All good I hope?" he grinned.

"Oh, Monsieur, I have nothing negative to say about any of my friends," Curie insisted, "You have all been like family to me since I came out of the Vault."

"I feel the same way, Curie. I wish we had more here," he admitted, and the mood immediately became somber as Hancock, Curie, and Dr. Virgil took a moment to reflect on their lost friends.

"So, uh, the Pitt, huh?" Hancock broke the silence, addressing Midea and Wernher, "You hear so much about the place but I can't say I've ever actually met anyone from there."

"We mostly keep to ourselves. Outsiders do most of the trading," Wernher said, "But there's a lot going on these days. Harder and harder to stay in our own territory."

"I hear that. You ever been to the Commonwealth?"

"Just to the Capital Wasteland. This is my first time since then, too," Wernher said.

"It's my first time, as well. I was born a slave in the Pitt," Midea added.

"Well, everywhere's a hellhole, really," Hancock admitted, "Did you get an 'invitation' for a 'discussion,' as well?"

"Yes. Do you know about this Proprietor?" Midea asked.

"Just what everyone else does. Came with the NCR on that big boat and set up shop in an old casino, and got it running gain in a couple of weeks. Practically changed the city overnight," Hancock said, "But I don't even have a name. Of course, we barely just got here, ourselves. I got a hundred people to feed."

"It was much the same for us when we arrived at the Pitt," Dr. Virgil said.

"Well, enough of being dour. This is a party, isn't it? Let's go check out these poker tables," Hancock insisted. They found a table where a man with a metal eyepatch was playing against the dealer. He started to stand up and leave.

"Hey, now, we're all friendly here," Hancock said, "Sit down and join us."

"Sorry. Too crowded for me," the man insisted.

"If you join us, the drinks will keep coming, on me," Hancock insisted. The man considered, and sat back down.

"I could use a buzz."

"That's the spirit. Or Spirits. Get this guy whatever he wants, on me," Hancock said, "Seeing as we're all in the 'making friends' kind of mood. I'm Hancock."

"…I'm…Porter. I'll have a whiskey."

"Good to meet you, Porter. You get an invite, or are you here on someone else's dime?"

"I, ah…I'm on an invitation."

"Right on," Hancock accepted his cards.

"I've never actually played poker," Midea admitted, shaking her head at her hand.

"Oh, it is a simple game, just matching cards to what we are given by the dealer. You want as many cards to match as you can, but only up to four," Curie began explaining the game to her, walking her through the first hand.

"I've never seen a place like this before," Midea confessed, "It's all so…Clean, and intact. Nothing broken or torn, it all looks…Not new, but kept up."

"It was like this in some parts of my Vault," Curie said, "But never have I see something like this beyond it. I can't quite put my finger on what makes it so special, though."

"It's deliberate," Porter said, folding, "Manufactured. So much of what you see out there, in the wasteland, it's done by hand, or it's salvaged. Everything here? They brought this with them. It was made for this purpose."

"Almost feels…Fake," Hancock confessed.

"I like what Mr. Porter says," Midea remarked, "Deliberate."

"Yes," Curie agreed, "Someone took great care to make this casino and make it look the way it does. Amazing what they accomplished in such a short time."

"Takes a lot of planning to pull something like this off," Porter said, raising on his next hand, "Whoever this proprietor, they're aiming to impress."

"What do you do, Mr. Porter?" Midea asked.

"Porter is my first name," he corrected, "I used to be an…Advisor to the locals. Seems the NCR is interested in my services and experiences. How about yourselves?"

"We are scientists, Dr. Virgil and myself," Curie said.

"We're the leaders from the Pitt," Wernher said, gesturing to Midea.

"And you, O Generous dispenser of drinks?" Porter asked, sipping his whiskey.

"Mayor of Goodneighbor," Hancock said, "Best little town in the Commonwealth."

"I remember Goodneighbor. Terrible drinks," Porter said, "Good people."

"They got better," Hancock insisted.

"The drinks or the people?"

"Both. Especially since we got Buddy. Now it's a constant stream of Cold Ones. If the fucking Brotherhood hasn't taken him apart for pieces."

"Monsters!" Curie huffed, "Betraying Nora like that! Throwing her off their airship, because she was busy doing the right thing!"

Porter scowled, "Did you say Nora?"

"Oui. She is a good friend of ours. A hero to the Commonwealth, and the Brotherhood has snuffed out our greatest hope! My dearest friend!" Curie slammed down her cards, "I do hope that the Proprietor is here to give them what they deserve!"

"Is this the anem General Nora of the Minutemen?" Porter asked.

"That's the one," Hancock confirmed. Hero of the Commonwealth. God rest her south."

Porter stood, "Good riddance. Thanks for the drinks."

Hancock's hand shot out and he grabbed Porter's arm, "You want to say that again, pal?"

"Excuse me!" Yes Man called out, "But violence in the casino will not be tolerated! Please release your fellow patron!"

All eyes were on Hancock and Porter at this. Hancock let him go.

"Pardon me. Got a little testy. Been a little too sober lately," Hancock took what was left of Porter's whiskey and drank it, "But it's not every day that I meet someone who's got a chip on their shoulder about Nora. I've never met anyone she hasn't done something for to improve their lives. So I'm curious: What Mirelurk crawled up your ass?"

"Nora betrayed and killed everyone I knew and cared about," Porter said, "And destroyed my life's work. So excuse me if I don't think highly of the woman."

"I wouldn't have too much sympathy," Wernher said, "Seeing as you're a Raider."

Porter glanced around the room at all the men and women instinctively going for their guns when he said this, though none of them were actually armed.

"Oh, so it's like that," Hancock snickered, "Well, I don't feel so defensive now, if you're a piece of shit, and I assume so were your friends."

Porter punched Hancock across the face, "I'll feed you what's left of your skin, zombie!"

Hancock smashed the whiskey glass against the poker table, and jabbed it into Porter's chest, but it didn't stop the raider from slamming his fist into Hancock's face again, grabbing him by the collar, and slamming him against the table, and the shattered glass. A pair of Securitrons physically pulled them off of each other.

"Well, I think everyone's adequately liquored up," a woman called out, entering the casino, "You know the party's started once a fight's broken out."

Governor Vance was small, with red hair and a ponytail, but years of exercise and adventuring had packed on muscle, and years of war had put no end of scars on her skin. She still had freckles dotting the front of her face, though. She wore a duster with an NCR bear on the back of it, over a blue vault suit.

"Since you two started the fight, you two get to share the first stories. You, Mr. Gage. Since you swung first, you go first. Let's see what we can learn here."

"Fuck you!"

"I could always have my Securitrons rip your arms and legs off and throw them in the sea," the Governor offered, "Or you can listen to what I have to say, and be part of a much bigger picture. You're a big-picture kind of guy, aren't you, Mr. Gage? That's what brought you to Nuka World, isn't it?"

He glared at her, but she just grinned.

"I asked you all here because you're all important or skilled. Some of you are local leaders or businessfolk. Others are representatives of factions from all over the East Coast. In one way or another, you're all affected by what's going on in New England and in the Francine Kingdom. I don't expect anything from any of you, but I do want you to hear me out. But before we do, I want you to hear him out. Go on, Gage. Tell us how Nora betrayed you at Nuka World. I'm curious, because I can't stop hearing things about this Nora. I want to know how she fucked you."

Porter Gage grabbed someone else's drink, and downed it.

"It started when we sent out the bait signal to attract adventurers to Nuka World. We'd taken it over with three rival Raider gangs about a year before, but our boss, Colter, got lazy. And it was time for a change. So we set up the Gauntlet to attract someone who might be able to kill him, and take his place. When Nora got through the Gauntlet in one piece, I knew we had a winner."