The commonwealth, a den of scum, raider filth...Pickman hated them of course, thats why they were the Ingredients to his art..

Raiders had surrounded his home, cornered him in the tunnels beneath the house...the leader about to kill him, until a loud gunshot rang out, and the leader fell dead...two more shots, loud...ringing...

Pickman wasn't expecting to be seemingly saved...His Calm demeanor never cracking, even smirking at the sight of the blood..