Sole Punches a Racist in the Face (ft. Hancock, Nick, and Strong)
These three companions deal with so many comments. Bless SS for having more patience than me because I WOULD start swinging.
Hancock
“Diamond City, huh?” Hancock grimaced as you led him through the gates. You needed to stock up on a few supplies and check some of Nick’s files before continuing south. He wasn’t one to question the decisions you made, usually. He was fine with a lot of things. The goody two-shoes act you had going could get annoying at times, but nobody’s perfect. Plus, the Commonwealth could do with more cheery and nice people. “You know they ain’t real fond of Ghouls in this town.”
“It’ll be fine,” you assured him.
Hancock saw the stares as he walked down the streets. He knew he wasn’t welcome. That was fine by him. Someone would say something and he could fire back with miles of sarcasm. Maybe even throw in an inappropriate joke about that person’s mother. You walked down the street, chatting away about something he was only half-listening to, and right past one of the many guards stationed in the area.
“Whoa, whoa. No Ghouls in Diamond City. Get that thing outta here.”
The guard didn’t even have time to think before you decked him square in the face. The soft tissue of his nose exploded red across your knuckles. Diamond city citizens watched on in horror as the guard fell to the ground, only for you to lean down and grab him by the collar.
“You wanna run that by me again?” your usual cheery demeanor was nowhere to be seen. Hancock knew you could fight, but you were usually pretty polite about it. Even when cleaning up the streets of Goodneighbor as the Silver Shroud, you hadn’t attacked until they attacked you. You were probably the kindest, most patient person he had ever met. But right now? You looked pissed.
The guard, to his credit, decided that the best course of action was the cowardly one. He shook his head fast enough Hancock thought it might fly off. When you stood back up, the guard scrambled away like his life depended on it. From the way you were glaring, it just might.
“Wow, doll,” Hancock gave a low whistle as he watched the guard retreat. “Didn’t think lil’ comments like that would set you off.”
“They were bein’ a jerk,” you wiped your bloody knuckles on the hem of your shirt, still fuming.
“It was kind of hot.”
“HANCOCK!”
Nick
“Machines shouldn’t have free will,” a brotherhood scribe scowls at Nick as the two of you walk passed. He had known you were asking for trouble when you decided to explore the Prydwarden with him by your side, and he had been ready. Thankfully, comments like these were the extent of the good ol’ Brotherhood hospitality. He was more than happy to fire back with one of his signature sarcastic remarks.
Unfortunately, you beat him to it with a swift punch to the scribe’s face.
The scribe reels backwards before finding his footing, scowling at you as he cups a hand over his bleeding nose. You narrow your eyes, and Nick swears you start standing taller. He hadn’t seen you this mad since you had killed Kellogg in Fort Strong.
“What is wrong with you!?” the scribe screams, and Valentine can feel himself bracing for a fight. There’s no way you’ll get away from this without fighting your way out. The scribe’s screams were definitely going to summon more Brotherhood soldiers. The scribe, thankfully, doesn’t attack just yet.
“You insulted my friend,” you say it with venom dripping from every syllable.
“Your friend!?” the scribe shouts. “That tin can is nothing more than–”
Whatever he was about to say is cut off by another punch to the face. The scribe crumples to the ground, unconscious. Nick watches him fold to the ground in stunned silence.
“C’mon,” you walk down the hallway, away from the scribe. “Let’s get off this ship before someone finds him passed out in the hall.”
“Well, can’t say I’m sorry to say goodbye to the Prydwarden,” Nick grimaces and follows you down the hallway. “But punching someone’s lights out hardly seems the best course of action.”
“Well he was being a racist prick,” you huff, rubbing your bruised knuckles.
“Well, you certainly know how to make an old synth feel special,” his expression is unreadable, but his voice sounds amused. “Still, I’d rather you didn’t jump to my defence while in the middle of enemy territory.”
“He had it coming!” you growl, still fuming. Nick needs to suppress a laugh as he follows behind you. He knew you could be tough when you needed to be, but you usually at least tried to give people the chance to walk away. Not that he was complaining, mind you.
Strong
DC guard says to keep him on a leash. He not care. Let puny human try to put leash on him.
You punch guard? Punching things good!
Guard fall on ground immediately! You punch almost as good as supermutant!