I apologize for the delay. This chapter didn't originally exist, but if I decided to write another one shot, it would be about this chapter. I am really excited about this one, but I do apologize for any mistake.

Also, I appreciate the kind words. I understand the excitement writers get when people read their writing.

Fair warning: This chapter is a much darker chapter. There's much harsher language and violence. To be fair, if you played the actual game, you'll be fine. I mean, Pickman's gallery was pretty gnarly, amiright?

The Raiders

The vitamins actually worked.

He took them for a week straight and already felt significantly better than he did in years. His nails felt stronger and hair a bit shinier than usual. They helped him sleep better and within a couple days, the dark circles under his eyes were clear. He wanted to share the pills with the rest of the agents, but if even the smallest hint showed he'd been in contact with Nora, her cover would be blown.

"What's that?" The sneer came from Honor, "You holding out on us?"

She snatched the unlabeled bottle out of Deacon's hands and held them up. She opened the cap, sniffed the contents, and threw them back.

"I found them at a pharmacy near a dead-drop. Had to wrestle a couple of ghouls for them; apparently, they looked in the mirror and discovered they really are ugly bastards and we weren't just shooting them due to jealousy."

Why was he protecting her?

"Jokes, huh? I didn't think you knew how to do that anymore."
"New look, new personality. Keeps me feeling fresh and youthful."

"Yeeeah," She said with an incredulous glare on her face, "Whatever. I'm heading out. Caretaker said a few more packages showed up at Mercer without assistance. Said they were traveling in groups and aside from being afraid of raiders, they didn't seem like they were scared of the Institute finding them. Looks like those scientist pricks are slacking off."

Deacon thought about it, but Carrington answered for him, "It could be a trap."
"Their bitch leader knows where we are, why would they need synths to find HQ?"
"All the more reason why she needs to be eliminated. Deacon, find her."

Deacon mock saluted and gathered his stealth boy, his trusty gun, and a couple stimpacks before heading out the back door.

The streets felt unnaturally quiet for being so early. The squawking of mutated seabirds replaced the usual clamor of hungry Super mutants - not that he complained. A couple of Ragstags trotted down a back alley, freezing and watching carefully as Deacon passed by. Between the two Ragstags was their glowing doe, still shaking on his newly born legs; veins pumping full of irradiated blood. The stag snorted and bucked at Deacon, threatening him when he didn't move away fast enough.

"Calm down, papa. Irradiated Ragstag meat doesn't agree with my stomach."

He continued the northern path with ease and little disturbance from raiders. He took the path left of the blown car and under some downed trees and sure enough, she was there on the swing, waiting for him to show. The only thing missing this time was the bouncy child she fought so hard to find. The pristine clothes she wore previously, instead replaced with armor he hadn't recalled seeing in the Commonwealth. Her midriff, coated in blood and grime, was exposed, something she always used to rant about on their trips together.

"What's the point of being covered in armor except for the stomach? Look at them-" She jabbed the worn cover of the latest 'Grognak the Barbarian' comic she found in his face, "I could literally stab them in the gut and it's all over. Always cover the midriff."
"Yeah, but Grognak is a badass so your argument is invalid."

The chest piece she must have worn with the bizarre outfit laid at her feet sat carelessly aside. She took her time pulling loose the blood-drenched wrappings covering her arms and legs before letting the slip from her fingers. Nora reached down, pulling the bottle of booze from her bag, tipping it back and taking a deep, satisfying gulp before resting it down on her knee.

She's drinking. That's never a good sign.

Deacon tossed his gun over his shoulder and made his presence known, but she didn't stir from her fixated gaze on the whiskey on her knee. He sat down next to her in silence, waiting for her to say something.

But she didn't.

"Carrington doesn't know I found you. At least, I don't think he does. Where's your son?"
"He's at the Institute. He doesn't need to see this shit."

Deacon leaned forward to get a better look at her, "Nice outfit. I take it the other one is in the wash?"

She took another swig and sighed, "Had some unfinished business to take care of before you decide to kill me."

"Why are you so determined to die? This isn't the great Nora I've heard about in stories."

This wasn't her. She wasn't the type of person to roll over and just accept the fate that was thrown at her. The woman next to him was a fighter; the textbook definition of a survivor. Even when the odds were against them, they always found a way to make it out unscathed… mostly unscathed.

"I have nothing left."

Cold, unwelcoming steel jabbed her in the temple and a soft click followed. Perhaps, if he threatened her with an actual threat of death she'd snap out of this self-loathing funk she dug herself into. She jarred her head to the left, staring straight into his eyes with the barrel of his gun finding a new home on her forehead. Deacon's eye grew wide when she grabbed the barrel and scoffed, "If you're going to threaten me, be a man and shoot me."

Stunned, he stood up, nearly tripping over her haphazardly laid armor. When his balance came back, she was there on her feet, whiskey in hand, and anger etched on her face.

"I'm not a good person, Whisper!" The whiskey on her breath punched him in the face, "I've killed people - slaughtered people in a way you couldn't comprehend. This shouldn't be a hard decision for you to have to make!"

When he hesitated behind the gun staring her in the face, she reached out and grabbed the right side of the gun, pulling it to the side before kicking out his leg from under him. He crashed to the ground hard and the gun was no longer in his possession but now staring back at him.

"You going to kill me like you killed Desdemona? Do it," He spat, trying to mask the fear he felt.

Nora took another swig from the half-drained whiskey, throwing the bottle back at the gazebo, "I had everything!"

This wasn't the way he was expecting to hear another story, but he'd take it.

She knelt down beside him, grabbing his collar "I was going to be the best damn lawyer that Boston, Massachusetts had ever seen."

"Sure," she unloaded the gun, throwing the ammo aside, "I was going to be a few hundred-thousand dollar in debt, but thanks to some trigger-happy assholes overseas, I don't have to worry about that now do I?"

Deacon pushed himself up from the ground, following her back when she made way for the downed whiskey. He took a seat, leaving just enough room for if she wanted to sit down.

She didn't.

"Wanna hear something absolutely hilarious?" She dug into her pockets, pulling out a ruined old-world dollar bill, "I could have used a whole lot of these bad boys back before the war, but now, no - now I use it to light fires. If you told me that I would wake up one day using old bottle caps as a form of currency, I would have laughed in your face."

She tucked the dollar back into her pocket. "Nate used to love Nuka-cola. I mean, absolutely loved that shit. I guess I should have made him keep the caps so when the government decided to nuke us all, I'd be rich!"

A boisterous yet, humorless laugh filled the air around him, "Why did this happen to me, Whisper? I lost everything in that war. I lost my home, my family, my husband, my child."

Another swig filled her stomach, "Everything."

She took her seat next to Deacon, slumping forward like all her regret bore on her shoulders. Deacon found his composure, "I'm not that aware of what happened before the bombs fell."

With the whiskey now carefully at her feet, she sighed, "Oh, it was a doozy. The technologies that we developed were unsuitable for our world. We needed oil - lots of oil, just to keep the power going. While nuclear fusion was being developed, our fossil fuels were draining faster than we were replacing them. The Middle-East had an abundance of crude oil just begging to be tapped, but according to the rest of the world, they didn't feel like sharing."

Nora grabbed her whiskey and passed it to Whisper, declining the offer, "Suit yourself."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. No amount of alcohol would erase the old world memories that haunted her. In her time in the wasted remains of her old life, she couldn't tell which generation had it the worst.

Was it her generation? A generation where Vault-Tec was force feeding radioactive goop to children just to see the how it affected their small, developing mind. A generation where greed and political incompetence ran rampant, ruining the lives of millions of people. Or was it the new generation where access to clean water was a fairytale that mothers told their children and death loomed around every corner no matter how careful you were.

Whisper - still waiting patiently for her to finish - caught her eye. She picked at her wedding ring, taking a deep breath, "They called it the Resource War of 2052. The European Commonwealth -the UK, Italy, and I believe France - began their invasion into the Middle-East. They dropped a nuclear warhead on Tel Aviv, Israel, destroying the oil-rich city and infecting the surrounding cities with radiation. The States were spying on the Chinese for their technologies, the Chinese got pissed, they invaded Alaska in retaliation, bla bla bla."

Nora tilted her bottle up, checking just how much forgetting juice she had left, "People were starving. While the Chinese were invading Alaska, we decide to make 'Lil Murica' Canada our new playground to stop China. The power suits that we still use today were used during that invasion. Unfortunately for Canada, we were taking more resources than they had to spare. A riot broke out, but we didn't listen. We didn't care. When the Canadians decided to help destroy our Alaskan pipeline, we finally set forth the plan to annex the entire country. We were too busy fighting others that we didn't take time to realize the fighting we had back at home."

"Seems rough."

"We were killing each other over food, but that doesn't really matter when you're running for your lives while nukes are falling down on our heads."

Deacon chuckled, "To be fair, we're still killing each other over food."

The tension in the air drifted away when Deacon's infectious laugh spread to her. Her head flung back and a deep, hearty cackle filled the air, "Goddammit our world is fucked."

She knocked back another swig of her drink, still chuckling at the unfortunate situation so many were stuck in. The threads of dirty, matted hair bounced around her, capturing Deacon's attention. Since finding her, she was always someone who cared about what she looked like. His fingers twitched, begging to touch her, to brush away the lone threads of wild hair that flowed out of place.

"Can I tell you something? Just promise me you won't tell Deacon."

The ethereal fantasy of her memory shattered at the sound of his name. Once again, Dr. Suns deserves more respect for his work than he's given.

"I don't talk to him much so your secret is safe with me.'

She bent down and grabbed the blood-soaked wrapping that once found a home on her arms, "I am a monster."

Deacon, lost in his confusion of whether to agree with her or not, waited for her to elaborate. When she passed the grimy wraps, he reluctantly took them, "I was about to ask you about these."

Nora took another deep swig of her drink, nearly draining it, "I ran away from the Institute after what happened to Desdemona. I told them I had some loose ends to take care of before I fully committed myself to becoming the new 'mother' of the Institute. I wanted to get away and find something familiar. Nuka World was pretty close to the Commonwealth, my husband was like a kid in a candy shop when it came to Nuka World."

Ah, the famous Nuka World. Anyone familiar with the Commonwealth knew better than to visit that Raider infested shit hole. Settlers from out of town often bought into the lies of the hopeless con-artist, findings themselves the next victims of Nuka World. When they traveled together, Nora briefly spoke of Nuka World in passing, but it never occurred to him that she probably didn't know the truth.

"So, comes to find out, Nuka World is still standing, but completely overwhelmed with Raiders. I wish someone told me before I found myself stuck there."

Keep a straight face, Deac. It's not your fault she didn't know.

"They put me through the ringer - literally. I took out their Overboss and well, take it in. You're looking at the new Overboss of the Nuka World raiders."

Of course, she became their new leader. Nora had this weird way of finding herself on top no matter the situation. Preston loved her. Desdemona loved her. The damn Institute loved her.

He… he felt a way that he didn't want to divulge in right now. Not when someone else's blood was literally in his hands.

"When I got there, everything was a mess. Three factions were fighting over unclaimed land, but nobody wanted to make an effort to fix it. First, there was the Pack. Personally, they were my favorite. There were these brightly colored raiders that lived by the alpha lifestyle. The managed to tame wild irradiated animals!"

Nora grabbed a little box out of her bag, pulling out a small round pill and popping it into her mouth.

Mentats. Not recommended by most dealers that you mix with alcohol - unless you're against having a good time.

Her head fell back with a deep, satisfying sigh as the Mentats and alcohol flooded her senses, "The best thing about the Pact must be their deep-rooted loyalty to those who are strongest. Wanna take a wild guess at who they deemed the strongest?"

She pointed to herself after a couple seconds, "Ding, ding, ding. It's yours truly. Here's your prize."

She passed the Mentats over to Deacon, but he refused once again. Nora scowled, "Fine. Didn't want to share anyways. After today's trip, these bad boys are going down the drain. The last thing I need is for my position in the Institute to be compromised due to these."

"Uh, the raiders?"

"Right. So, personally, I really admired the Blacks. Mags and her brother ran the Operation. Easily, they were some of the classiest, cut-throat Raiders I've ever come across. The Black siblings would have been a force to be reckoned with in my time. Gage liked trashing their reputation whenever he had the chance - thought they were too pretty to be real raiders."

"Gage?"

"We had an interesting relationship."

A shiver shot through his spine, heat swelling behind his ears. Images of Nora and an unknown man twisting around each other's bodies in a moment of ecstasy flooded his mind.

Stop. You have no claim on her. You never did.

The awkward silence from Whisper did not go unnoticed. She slapped his back and laughed, "Please, the last thing I want is some advanced wasteland STD that I have to explain to my doctor. We found comfort in one another after a while, but not for any of the right reasons."

"Missing anyone in particular?" He didn't want to admit to himself that he was baiting her. He especially didn't want to admit he wanted to hear his -

"Deacon. I missed Deacon." Deacon felt the heat build in his face; she was not supposed to say his name. "Gage was the complete opposite of him, but loneliness does something to a person. Lowers your standards to a point that trash looks like gold."

She took another swig, further dulling her already gone senses.

"You ever hear of Pickman? What if I told you there were a group of raiders even worse than him."

"Disturbing." The heat finally settled away from his face.

"Nisha," She growled her name with disdain, "Her name leaves the nastiest taste in my mouth. She was the leader of the Disciples, the most sadistic, cold-blooded group of people I ever met. Their hideout would have given Pickman the biggest, bloodthirsty boner. As soon as walked in the door, the stench of iron and rotting flesh invaded my nose. If I wasn't so damn used to it, I would have puked right then and there. Unfortunately, that type of weakness was extremely frowned upon.

"Nisha was at the top on her bloody throne - remember I'm being literal and not the least bit British about it. A woman stopped me, she had this deep southern belle accent. She dragged me into her room before taking off her mask. They all wore masks, by the way."

Nora stood up, wobbling on her drunken legs, "Why hello, Miss Overboss," Her voice carrying a high-pitched, southern accent, "The names Dixie! Let me show you my room!"

With her voice back to how it was, she turned around, "This cute girl was a textbook example of a serial killer. She'd play dumb to lure unsuspecting travelers, murder them and steal their things to keep as momentums. She'd earn their trust only to laugh in their faces as she's slitting their throats. Her room had the trinkets she valued the most and she could tell me who they belonged to, no matter how long ago it was that she killed them."

A different type of chill shot through his spine. Raiders were merciless, but only the super mutants were known to be this malicious.

"Nisha," Nora sneered, "that bitch."

The mentats had her lost in an old memory he didn't care to see.

"She had one rule: 'Don't get caught'. We butted heads every chance we got. I could acknowledge she was needed to keep the rest of her group under control, but she was nearly impossible to work with. She wanted bloodshed and I was too busy trying to restore Nuka World back to its original glory to satisfy her needs."

Nora took another gulp of her whiskey, taking a seat down next to Whisper. "I gave them one rule. One single, itsy bitsy rule."

The intensity in her eyes captured him, paralyzingly him, "Don't touch my fucking settlers. They knew my territory. I don't care who they fucked with, but I worked way too hard to build those people a stable home. I was practically giving these monsters a brand new home, but guess who didn't think it was enough!"

Deacon shrugged his shoulder, opening his mouth to speak.

"Don't answer that. So, get this," Her words slurred, "We're going to do some basic math; nothing too hard. If I have five territories and three groups of people, what's the best way to split the territory?"

Deacon figured it was a rhetorical question, but when Nora didn't continue her story, instead staring intently at him, he answered, "Oh, uh. Two, two, and one?"

"Yes, Whisper! That deserves a drink!" She tipped the bottle up, but nothing came out. "Now that is messed up."

Deacon gently took the bottle from her hand, prying her tightly-wound fingers from the neck of the bottle, "It's dangerous for you to be this drunk out in the open."

"How sweet, one minute you threaten to kill me and now you're trying to protect you," her hand pressed against his chest, "You'll eat those words, Whisper."

She wiped her hands down her face, "Greed makes people do terrible things. The Pack and Operators proved themselves to be loyal and trustworthy, but the Disciples stayed with a knife at my throat. Some bullshit happened with Nisha and I had to take care of it before the tension escalated to anything extreme. The last thing I needed was a full-blown war between these factions. Even Gage was restless of how on edge they were becoming. Not to mention that countless assassination attempts on my life. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Nisha was sending out the orders. She was pissed because her people only got one territory."

"I went to their base and as I climbed up those stairs to confront her about the cute attempts she was making on my life but something caught my eye in Dixie's room. She was there, sharpening her knives, completely unaware of my presence until I was at her shelf. I spent some time with a small settlement out in the middle of nowhere. They were struggling to take care of themselves, but with the help of my Minutemen, I was able to reinforce their homes with enough equipment to hold off any intruder. The leader of the settlement had a daughter around the age of seven or so. She was painfully shy but had this precious wonder that reminded me of Shaun."

This isn't good.

"She loved Codsworth - absolutely adored him. I found a little Mr. Handy statue at my old house and brought it for her to have. I made a little the bowler hat Codsworth used to wear, too. Nina squeaked with excitement when I gave it to her and she latched onto my legs with all of her tiny might."

Nora stopped, a small smile forming on her lips before falling.

"So imagine my anger when I find that statue on Dixie's shelf."

Deacon wanted to reach out, but he stopped himself, "Nora, I'm so sorry."

Her eyebrows furrowed and face distorted into anger, "I asked the bitch where she found the statue and she just sneered at me, 'Oh, I found it," The accent returned in full force, "'I was out in the field and this absolutely adorable family saw me and asked if I needed help. There was just something so tantalizing about this little group of people so I told them that I definitely needed some assistance. They took me home and that night, I turned the town red.' She picked the Mr. Handy out of my hand and tilted it up, 'look how cute! It has a little bowler hat!'"

"Sure enough, Nina's name was etched on the base in that adorable little handwriting of her."

"What did you do?" Deacon asked.

"The Disciples broke my only rule for them. So I broke them."

The bags under her eyes deepened and the dullness of her iris' stood out against the redness as tears threatened to fall, "The Pack brought me Nisha and I told her very carefully that I did not tolerate what she did to my people. She played dumb, but in a snarky sort of way. I passed her a box and when she opened it, I think the blood drained from her face."

"What is this?" Nisha hissed, holding up the decapitated head of her southern belle.

"I tortured her. I wanted to hear her scream in agony for what she did. Dixie just laughed the whole time. That does something to a person, you know?"

"Not really," Deacon tucked his hands away, trying to hide the shaking as memories of the synth he once tortured invaded his memories.

"I was going to make Nisha proud. I started with the non-essentials. Teeth, fingernail, toenails -the basic torture starters." The thousand-yard stare that people often had when they were thinking of terrible things showed up on her face, "We took her fingers, her toes, her feet, her eyes. She wouldn't scream. I took her tongue, her arms, legs. I pumped her full of stimpacks just to keep her alive."

"I shouldn't have felt as much satisfaction as I did, but I couldn't help it. She was nothing but a torso and head, but it still wasn't enough. I could have finished the job, but I didn't. I took her body, still pumped full of stimpacks and dumped it on their territory for her to bleed on her own soil. The Pack and Operation took that as an open invitation to finish the job."

Nora stood up, turning to Deacon, "I'm a monster, Whisper. Those wrappings, the armor; it's Nisha's. I just came back from Nuka World. I had some unfinished business to dispose of. I spoke with Gage while there. I think he'll keep his promise on not attacking my settlers. "

Deacon stood up with her, "Why did you come back? We would never have thought to go to Nuka World. You would have been safe there."

"Evan." A warm smile graced her face through the grime and dried blood, "I went out into the outskirts and came across his little hut. He'd lost his family, yet he stayed there trying to help whoever he could. I sat with him for hours talking. I told him what I'd done and my reasons and he just listened to me. No judgment. The Raiders never bothered him for whatever reason."

Nora grasped at Nisha's wrappings, "He was an angel living in hell, but he never gave up. He encouraged me to go back and make things right. So I left."

"So what did you tell him about killing Desdemona? I mean, those raiders were hardly even people, but Desdemona? She was your friend!"

Electricity bounced between the two. The anger etched on Deacon's face forced Nora to sober up much faster than she wanted to. The memory to watching Desdemona's lifeless body threatened to resurface after months of careful suppression. The abrupt feeling of intense fear reached its peak in the seconds it took for her to see the blood leeching from Desdemona's head in her memories. She clutched her chest, trying to calm the palpitations of her racing heart. A deep tingling prickled in the roots of molars, scratching its way down her throat making her choke. A cold sweat trickled down the back of her neck, drying against her already sticky skin.

She needed to run. She wasn't ready for this.

Nora backed away from Deacon, frantically smashing the screen of her pip-boy, "I'm sorry, Whisper. Please don't tell Deacon what I told you. I don't want to hurt him anymore."

"Dammit, Nora!" He reached out towards her, knowing she was trying to escape, "Why did you kill her?!"

With a flash of lightning, she was gone.

And once again, he was alone.

From the Wiki: Evan and his home is a tribute to Reddit user NoohjXLVII's brother Evan, who passed away before Bethesda Softworks could deliver a Care Package of Fallout merchandise, which was sent as a way of supporting the two brothers after their father had died. To make up for the delayed package, Bethesda promised to include Evan as an NPC in Nuka-World.