It takes him such a short amount of time to get there, but the street seems to stretch out for miles before him, an endless amount of ground to cover with so little precious time afforded in which to cover it.
Their last conversation flashes through his mind like a corroded reel of film, those words and that blow heâd slung against Nick Valentine with an intent to hurt. He hadnât imagined that the next time they would meet would be like this. If he had, he never would have let him leave like that, never would have banished him from Goodneighbor.
He bursts into the Memory Den like a fourth bullet, making a scene of himself like always, but unlike usual, not at all thinking about doing it.
It is not a plea; it is an order, a demand for immediate attention spoken in the same tone of voice that one would command soldiers. His voice seems to fill the whole building.
     The lobby is predictably quiet until he comes tearing in, the sound of his shout bringing both Dr. Amari and Irma hurrying out of one of the side rooms to see whatâs going on, a certain worry to their faces that doesnât seem to become them. On seeing the cause of Hancockâs call for help, Amari gasps, and Irma looks horrified.Â
     âNick! Whatâs happened?â Irma cries, an outburst of emotion at a sight too horrible to mind how it might make her look. Even with her flair for the dramatic, her reaction seems to drive home how awful the situation really is, and how Nick looks danging from Hancockâs arms.
     Dr. Amari, lacking the same attachment, is quick to approach Hancock and his burden, however, her eye analytical. She doesnât wait for explanations, but turns on her heel and gestures for the ghoul to follow, barely taking the time to urgently bid him, âCome with me, quickly!âÂ
     The situation is dire, she knows that at once. Even without the details of the horror that has transpired, it is immediately apparent that her services are needed, fast, and sheâs going to need to call in some help of her own if this synth is even still alive.