John Hancock — POV
Diamond City always smelled like old metal and old lies, but today it tasted different.
Fear.
It clung to the air the moment Piper and I pushed through the gate, whispers rippling through the stands like rats scattering from light. Merchants weren't shouting prices. Guards weren't joking. Even the kids running the bases had slowed, eyes darting toward the upper stands—toward the mayor's office.
"Something's wrong," Piper muttered beside me, already clutching her recorder like a lifeline. "People don't shut up in this town unless they're scared or being paid."
"Usually both," I said, tipping my hat back. "C'mon."
We didn't make it ten steps up the main walkway before the crowd parted.
Danny Sullivan lay crumpled near the elevator platform, blood pooling beneath him, soaking into the grime of the metal floor. His rifle had skidded out of reach. Two clean burns scorched his coat—center mass.
"Danny!" Piper rushed forward, dropping to her knees.
I was already moving. Years of chems and bad decisions don't dull reflexes when you've seen this too many times.
"Easy, gatekeeper," I said, kneeling, hands already fishing a stimpak from my coat. "You're not allowed to die on my watch. Bad for morale."
Danny's eyes fluttered open, glassy but focused enough to hurt.
"H-Hancock…" he rasped. "Mayor… Mayor shot me…"
Piper froze. "What?"
I jabbed the stimpak into his side. The hiss of compressed medicine filled the space, followed by Danny's sharp gasp as torn flesh began to knit.
"Talk to us," I said firmly. "Slow."
Danny swallowed, pain creasing his face. "I was… I was doin' my rounds. Heard voices near the office. Arguing." A weak laugh escaped him, bitter. "Figured it was another damn trade dispute."
His grip tightened weakly on my sleeve.
"Then I saw him. McDonough. Talkin' to… to someone else. Not a guard. Not a citizen."
Piper leaned in. "A synth?"
Danny nodded, a tremor running through him. "Gen2 clanker..... wearing lousy merchant disguse...ha... I challenged him—asked what the hell was goin' on."
He winced, breath hitching.
"He didn't even hesitate. Pulled his gun. Two shots to the gut. I fell back… off the elevator platform." His eyes drifted toward the railing above. "Guess gravity did the rest."
Around us, Diamond City guards were gathering—uneasy, confused, weapons half-raised but not sure where to point them. No one moved to stop us. No one defended the mayor.
Danny's voice dropped, heavy with shame."Can't believe I let McDonough boss me and the boys around for so long… We just kept lookin' the other way…"
His eyelids drooped, consciousness slipping.
"Hey," I said, gripping his shoulder. "You didn't look away today. That counts."
Danny exhaled slowly, finally passing out—but breathing.
Piper stood, face pale but burning with fury. "That's it," she said. "That's the proof. Institute, murder, cover-up—all of it."
I rose beside her, straightening my coat, the familiar anger coiling in my chest like a loaded spring.
McDonough.
Mayor. Puppet. Murderer.
Above us, the elevator to the mayor's office sat silent—doors closed, lights still on.
I looked at Piper, then at the guards staring back at me, waiting.
"Well then," I said, cracking my knuckles. "Looks like Diamond City's about to stop looking the other way."
And for the first time in a long while—
I smiled.
Piper didn't even hesitate charge toward the door as soon as we step out of elevator.
She hit the mayor's office door with her shoulder, boots slamming against the reinforced metal as she rammed it again and again. The lock held, but the sound echoed across the upper stands like a gunshot—drawing guards, citizens, and every uneasy eye in Diamond City.
"I knew it!" Piper shouted, voice cracking with fury. "You're a synth! You don't even deserve to be mayor!"
From behind the door came slow, deliberate applause—mocking, perfectly calm.
McDonough's voice answered through the intercom, smooth as polished chrome."Yes, yes. Kick, shout—get it all out of your system." A pause. Then, colder. "Just so you know… I have a hostage."
A muffled sob cut through the static.
"HELP—!"
The plea ended abruptly with a sharp smack, the sound of flesh against metal.
Piper froze.
"oh no, Geneva…" she whispered.
My grip tightened on my shotgun. That was it. No speeches. No politics.
Piper turned to me, breath ragged. "This is spiraling fast. Even Diamond City guards won't touch this—too many people, too much fear. I'll call Nick. Get the Minutemen—"
"Don't bother," I cut in.
She looked at me.
I stepped forward, leveling my double-barrel at the door, barrels steady, heart calm in that familiar way it only gets right before violence."We don't have time. Hostages mean clocks. And clocks is ticking."
Around us, guards shifted nervously, fingers twitching near triggers but none willing to be first. McDonough had played them well—authority, fear, routine. Years of conditioning don't break easy.
I raised my voice, loud enough for the whole stadium to hear.
"Mayor McDonough," I called, cheer gone, steel underneath. "You've got two options. You open that door and step out alone—or I redecorate your office with buckshot and explain it later."
Silence.
Then a chuckle crackled through the speaker."You always were dramatic, Hancock. But you misunderstand. This city needs order. Needs guidance. The Institute—"
I fired.
The shotgun blast thundered through the stands, shredding the lock mechanism and blowing sparks and twisted metal across the walkway. Piper flinched—but didn't step back.
"Negotiations over," I said, already racking the second barrel.
The door buckled. Alarms wailed inside the office—Institute blue flickering into harsh red.
Piper slammed her shoulder into the weakened frame, screaming, "GENEVA, GET DOWN!"
The door gave way with a screech of tortured metal.
Inside, chaos.
Geneva lay on the floor near the desk, hands bound, face bruised, eyes wide with terror. McDonough stood behind his desk, pistol raised—not shaking, not panicking.
Too calm.
His skin rippled.
Piper sucked in a sharp breath. "Oh my God…"
Synthetic muscle shifted under artificial flesh. His eyes flickered—just for a second—into cold, mechanical red.
"Diamond City," McDonough said, voice no longer pretending. "You were always… inefficient."
I stepped in front of Piper without thinking, shotgun centered on his chest.
"Funny," I said. "I was just thinkin' the same thing about you."
Outside the office, guards finally surged forward—too late to stop it, just in time to witness the truth.
A mayor unmasked.A hostage bleeding.And a city realizing, all at once, that the Institute's shadow had been standing on its podium.
"Drop the gun," Piper demanded, voice shaking but firm. "It's over."
McDonough smiled.
And that smile?
That wasn't human at all.
"To think…" The words tasted like ash in my mouth. I didn't take my eyes off him."To think that thing replaced my brother. All that anti-ghoul crap, all that fear—how the hell didn't I see through it?"
McDonough's lip curled, contempt leaking through the perfect mayor's smile."Humph. Emotional blindness is a remarkably consistent human flaw."
He tightened his grip, yanking Geneva upright by the collar, the muzzle of his pistol digging into her temple.
"I demand you let me go," he snapped, voice sharp now, stripped of pretense. "Or else she gets it."
Geneva sobbed, shaking. "No—no, please—"
Piper raised her pistol, arms locked, eyes blazing. "You really think you're walking out of this? You'll stand trial. Commonwealth trial. Let her go."
I couldn't help it—I grinned, teeth sharp."Atta girl."
McDonough laughed.
Not nervous.Not desperate.Calculated.
"Trial?" he sneered. "You think I'd last five minutes before one of these mobs lynched me in the streets? Fairness?" His eyes flicked toward the open doorway, the gathering crowd, the guards frozen between orders and fear."No. I shoot my way out. I take as many of you with me as I can."
His finger tightened.
"Starting with her."
The window snapped.
Not shattered—punched.
A single crack spiderwebbed across the glass behind McDonough's desk, followed by a wet, hollow sound. His head jerked violently to the side, the pistol discharging harmlessly into the ceiling as his grip went slack.
Geneva collapsed to the floor, screaming.
McDonough staggered back, eyes wide—not in pain, but in shock—as a neat hole bloomed through his temple. Synthetic fluid mixed with blood, spraying across the polished office wall.
He didn't fall immediately.
Instead, he twitched—mechanisms spasming—then crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut.
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
Then the crowd outside erupted.
"Sniper!" someone shouted.
I spun toward the broken window, heart pounding.
Across the stadium—far across—I saw them.
Two figures, barely visible against the upper stands. One prone, rifle still smoking. The other standing watch, scope glinting once before both shapes melted backward into shadow and smoke.
Too clean.Too far.Too disciplined.
My breath caught.
"…No way," I muttered.
Piper followed my gaze, eyes narrowing. "You see that too?"
"Yeah," I said quietly. "And whoever they are—Diamond City guards don't shoot like that."
A chill crawled up my spine.
Those silhouettes weren't Brotherhood.Not Gunners.Not raiders.
They moved like ghosts.
Like professionals.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a name surfaced—one Nate had mentioned once, half-joking, half-serious in bar talk at third rail.
Nightin—
The thought cut off as guards finally surged into the office, weapons raised, shouting orders that came far too late to matter.
Geneva was already being dragged to safety. Piper knelt beside her, hands shaking as she checked for wounds.
I stayed by the window, staring at the empty stands where the snipers had been.
"Guess that answers one question," I murmured.