Disclaimer: Fallout belongs to Bethesada.

Prologue

I held the Jet dispenser to my ear and shook. Compressed air, chemical, and a metal bead bounced within its metal chamber. There was half a hit left. I circled my lips around the base, pushed the cartridge, and inhaled. Immediately my heart pumped slower, stronger, and my five senses absorbed every inch of the mammoth room outside of Underworld. I stored the empty dispenser in my coat pocket and fumbled for two mentats outside of the wrapper. I ate those too.

Four months ago I threw two-thousand caps at Azrukhal in exchange for a body guard. Needless to say, we did not conclude our transaction and I need to work on my people skills.

"Oooowwww. Wakey-wakey, children!" Three-Dog's voice quietly rallied on my pipboy as I opened the double-doors to Underworld. "It's a bright and beautiful 5:35am sunrise. Things have just peeked over the horizon and I've an odd feeling that the heat is about to turn up. Just yesterday the Lone Wanderer came to me, and you know what she said? She said -" I turned off the radio. I know what I said.

Most of Underworlds citizens were still in bed and the main chamber was quiet except for the sputtering of clunky air conditioners and dehumidifiers. I rounded my way to the steps and stretched my arms wide, wiggled my fingers, and rolled my neck and shoulders. A lady needs to be limber for the ugly things in life.

I walked into the bar with my head higher than last time. I was alert.

Three ghouls sharing a poker game sat at a table to my left, but the other tables were dirty with napkins and abandoned drinks. A bulb flickered and added to the dim edginess that was the 9th Circle. Azruhkal stood behind his bar and polished the handle of his only working tap.

No matter where I stood in the room there were no obstacles or barricades to take advantage of. Where I stood was as shit a place as any.

The bar owner beamed when he saw me. "You know what I love about black people? You take their money, spit on them, scruff them up, and they still want to do business with you," Azrukhal sung to the bar patrons.

I'd never have guessed that smooth skin color was a factor in the post-apocalyptic DC, but evidentially old immortal men hang onto their bigotry. I itch for my revolver.

"What can I do for you? Here to give me another bag of caps?" He asked.

I slipped out of my heavy backpack and lowered it to the floor. I gingerly laid my unloaded rifle and black leather jacket on top of it, and then my scarf and goggles. The partially exposed logo for the Tunnel Snakes lifted me with encouragement.

"A strip tease isn't going to get you his contract," Azrukhal said as he looked me up and down.

Charon pushed himself from the wall and took a step towards me.

Dear death-claw sanctuary he's tall.

His jaw tensed and eyes dragged over me - calculating risk and defense.

I reached for the hem of my pants and drew my revolver. Just as quickly as I could get it out was as quickly as the bouncer could make three strides and re-adjust my aim.

I shot the wall.

He held his fist on my hand and weapon. I slowly drew in a lungs worth of air and braced myself. You've got this.

I forced my free elbow up and slammed it down onto the ghouls wrist to release the gun. His fist found my jaw. The shock of the strike had me fumble the revolver and step back. I'd taken Butch in fist fights before, but the ghouls punch had me nearly seeing stars.

The bouncer toed my gun backwards and the weapon skid across the floor and away from me. He waited again to see if I'd attack. How far could I press my luck?

"Kill her. Slowly," Azrukhal sneered. He was not amused.

The three poker players leapt from their seats and the heavy exit door slammed shut behind them without a spring to resist it. Charon was briefly distracted by the sudden outburst and with poorly-placed confidence I gripped a chair by its back wings and threw it at him.

If I could stagger him I could get the contract...

The large ghoul side-stepped the chair, grabbed my arm, and pitched me into a round table. I tried to keep pace, but my footing skipped and my chin violently slammed against the metal surface. Pint glasses and nuka cola bottles fell and broke around me as the table teetered and landed on its side. I tasted blood.

I avoided splinters of glass and sticky beer on the floor while I awkwardly tried to regain my footing. I stumbled forward and landed on my hands while Charon skirted around the table and towards me.

I kicked backwards at his knee cap, but he caught my thigh, grabbed my shoulder, and heaved. I was weightlessly escorted into the pool table.

The heavy wooden border of the table kissed my ribs and wind spat through my clenched teeth.

For the love of-! Blindly I gripped whatever my hands could find and turned my body to attack him. The cueball connected with Charon's temple and I tried again. He was fast. A grunt, a recoil, and he was back deflecting my attack.

The ghoul scratched his fingers against the back of my skull, knotted my brown curls in his fist, and pulled back. I yelped and dropped the cueball. He dragged my body up onto the pool table and slammed my head on the worn velvet surface.

Both of Charons hands found my throat and his large fingers squeezed.

Fuck, he's strong.

My heart felt like it was going to punch through my chest. I pierced my nails into his forearms and felt blood on my fingertips. Charons leg pressed between my knees, and his chest and hips pinned me. In any other context his closeness would have been interpreted as intimate.

I kicked my boots against broken tiles and the rubber soles squeaked under either side of him. Stop. Think. I can't win a muscle contest. Think!

As I released my grip he tightened his and scooted me further so that my feet silently dangled. I gasped, curled my spine into him, and walked my fingers down his ribcage. He smelled of gun lubricant and cigarettes. He was restraining himself.

"What're you waiting for?" I wheezed into his neck - so close that I could inhale the heat and salt from his skin.

Charon furrowed his brows. He was perplexed by my taunt and opened his mouth to say something.

My fingers grazed Charons belt and then the combat knife.

Please.

Fear began to override the Jet and panic ebbed in. I popped the button of his knife holster, grabbed the worn handle of the blade, and stabbed down. The knife took his thigh and the jagged edge sawed his flesh as I pulled it out.

I have one second. Move.

I threw a knee between us and pushed him off of me, then kicked my heel at the fresh gapping wound in his thigh. Charon hissed and pivoted backward. I wheezed and rolled off the pool table to plant my feet.

"You look tired," chimed Azrukhal. He leaned onto the counter with the sort of poise that didn't care that he was in arms reach - he knew his bouncer would finish me. All of this for goddamn principle.

I forced Charons knife down to the counter. Blade met bone and the Jet-induced slow-mo world returned to real time. I attacked again and cut Azruhkal's hand off. Stay in the game. My brain finally caught up with my body and I began coughing and gasping, my trachea bruised, lungs burned, and ribs ached. My vision doubled. Stay.

Azrukhal gripped his bloody bare wrist and gapped. His saliva sprayed my face when he screamed for Charon, but the bouncer was frozen. I followed Charons gaze. His masters hand was free on the counter with a worn metal ring hugging the smallest finger.

I grabbed the hand. Charons eyes tracked between me and Azrukhal.

"Kill him," I croaked.

The bouncer drew his shotgun and fired.

I stumbled back into a cold chair and slumped. The stamina and advantage from the drugs was gone and I was exhausted. I casually held the dead limb on the table top and with my other hand grabbed a bottle of half-drunk whiskey. I poured two shot glasses.

"Good morning," I rasped.

Charon moved slowly, calculated, and sat in the chair across from me. Red blood dotted the floor from his leg, but he made no effort to close the awful gap.

He took hold of one of the two full shots and brought it to his lips.

"Good morning."

Authors note: How's the teaser? I will be periodically returning to already published segments to improve them, so please give me the toughest criticism you've got!