|For the companion and wasteland trader who works among the tribes of northern New California, see Vic.|
The former ganglord of Goodneighbor ran the settlement for years as his own personal fiefdom. Although he took a more delicate approach for those denizens with homes, he persecuted the drifters with extreme prejudice. Confiscating their property and using his gang to keep the entire community in line. Occasionally he would let them off the leash and sack the populace at large. Only those with homes that could lock their doors would emerge relatively unscathed. The entire populace was crippled with fear, including the person before he became "Hancock."
One night, some drifter said something to them and they cracked him open like a can of Cram on the pavement. The witnesses all just stood there paralyzed with fear. After participating in classic bystander effect "Hancock" felt like less than nothing. Afterward to numb the pain he got so high that he blacked out completely, eventually coming to on the floor of the Old State House. Right in front of the clothes of John Hancock. First American hoodlum and defender of the People.
Inspired he donned the attire and persona. Afterword he stopped taking chems, got organized, convinced KLEO to loan him some weaponry, gathered a gang of drifters and headed into the ruins to start training. All for the sole purpose of removing Vic and his crew from power. To strike back the next time Vic's crew went on another tear.
The night of the struggle they all got loaded. Hancock's crew with their tactical positions and weaponry and Vic's crew with idleness and alcohol. When Vic's crew was good and drunk Hancock's crew burst through the windows and rooftops. Vic's crew never saw them coming, although they didn't have to fire a shot it turned into a massacre. Once they killed that last survivors they strolled into Vic's quarters in the State House, wrapped a rope around his neck, and threw him off its famous balcony. Killing him.
And there Hancock stood, gun in hand, draped in John Hancock's cloths, looking at all the people of Goodneighbor assembled below. Feeling the need to say something he blurted out the words: "Of the people, for the people!" It was his inaugural address as Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor. From then on, he vowed to never stand by and watch oppression. Ever again.
Vic is mentioned only in Fallout 4.
- The Sole Survivor: "Running from yourself? What do you mean?"
Hancock: "Well, I mean, I didn't always look this good. The drug that did this to me, that made me a Ghoul, I knew what it was going to do. I just couldn't stand looking at the bastard I saw in the mirror anymore. The coward who'd let all those Ghouls from Diamond City die. Who was too scared to protect his fellow drifters from Vic and his boys. If I took it, I'd never have to look at him again. I could put that all behind me. I'd be free. Didn't seem like a choice at all. Turns out it was just me running from somethin' else in my life."
- The Sole Survivor: "You seem awfully torn up over Bobbi. Was there something between you?"
Hancock: "Nah, nothing like that. I just hate seeing guys like me use their sway to do that kinda harm. Hell, that sorta bull's the whole reason I became mayor in the first place. Some ass named Vic ran the town for I don't know how long before that. Guy was scum. Used us drifters like his own personal piggy bank. He had this goon squad he'd use to keep people in line. Every so often he'd let them off the leash, go blow off some steam on the populace at large. Folks with homes could lock their doors, but us drifters, we got it bad. There was one night, some drifter said something to them. They cracked him open like a can of Cram on the pavement. And we all just stood there. Did nothing."
- The Sole Survivor: "Was there no one who could have helped?"
Hancock: "Who knows. Maybe. Honestly we were all so terrified, we couldn't bring ourselves to move until it was over, let alone get help. I felt like less than nothing. Afterwards, I got so high, I blacked out completely. When I finally came to, I was on the floor of the Old State House. Right in front of the clothes of John Hancock. John Hancock, first American hoodlum and defender of the People. I might've still been high, but those clothes spoke to me, told me what I needed to do. I smashed the case, put them on, and started a new life. As Hancock. After that, I went clean for a bit, got organized, convinced Kleo to loan me some hardware. Got a crew of drifters together and headed out into the ruins, started training. Next time Vic's boys went on their tear, we'd be ready for 'em."
- The Sole Survivor: "A guy like that only understands one thing - swift and brutal force. You made the right call."
Hancock: "See, I knew you had your head on straight. So the night of, we all got loaded, let Vic's boys get good and hammered, and burst from the windows and rooftops where we'd been hiding. They never even saw it coming. We didn't have to fire a shot. We didn't have to. But we sure fucking did. It was a massacre. Once we'd mopped up, we strolled right into Vic's quarters in the State House, wrapped a rope around his neck, and threw him off the balcony. And there I am, gun in hand, draped in Hancock's duds, looking at all the people of Goodneighbor assembled below. I had to say something. That first time I said 'em, they didn't even feel like my words: "Of the people, for the people!" Was my inaugural address. Became Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor that day. And from then on, I vowed I'd never stand by and watch. Ever again."