Note: Charon's real name is SAWYER. I will refer to him as such in the story. You will find out why later.

Warning! This story contains the following mature themes: [Swearing. Mentions of rape. Gory death details. Make-out scenes.]

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my OC and the major changes.

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It was just another day in the hell that was the Ninth Circle. Sawyer, the only human in the area, stood in his corner, eyes sweeping at the rarely-changing crowd of Ghouls that came to and went from the bar. He occasionally glanced at Ahzrukhal, wary for his commands.

Though the daily routine sucks, and has sucked for the past three years, it was better than the alternative, when, for example, Ahzrukhal demands something other than Sawyer's muscle in the bar, something…grimmer…always grimmer.

As if he'd jinxed the minor blessing of said routine, a girl walks in, human too.

Great…Just great. This is exactly what he was afraid of. Exactly. Wow! Look how that worked out.

Maybe nothing will happen. Maybe Ahzrukhal will let it slide. Maybe he won't force this one into a bedroom. Maybe he won't force Sawyer to force her into a bedroom. Maybe…

'Maybe my ass!' Sawyer thought, frustration tightening his chest. Who was he kidding? It was Ahzrukhal. He'd never let a chance with the smoothskins slide.

Wrong.

It was wrong…on so…so many levels. So wrong.

Oh, how Sawyer wished he could aim Chuck (His Shotgun's name. Yes, there's a reason.) at Ahzrukhal's head, pull the trigger, and let it rip. How he dreamed countless times of that bastard's brain-matter spilled across the floors, smeared across the walls, dangling from the ceiling. He deserved nothing less.

Or…maybe…if he could put Chuck to his own head…be over with it…all of it.

If only.

At the threshold of the Ninth Circle, Jessica discreetly attempts to calm her wandering eyes at the number of Ghouls that surrounded her. It was innocent amazement and curiosity, but she was aware they did not like being stared at, so her glances were quick and breezy.

She'd only met one Ghoul, Gob, and that was all the way back at Megaton.

All the way back…

A month.

A month was spent in that so called city. A month to prepare for the journey ahead, for the Wastelands…for her father.

She left the vault for more than just her freedom. She had to find him. How could he leave her behind?

But the Wastelands were no place for Vault dwellers. They were harsh, cruel, and dangerous to a mad level. Fortunately, she was somewhat equipped with a skill-set that helped her manage thus far.

Some of the qualities that she found vastly helpful, were, for example, her expertise in medicine, thanks, of course, to her father's, James, occupation, and her knowledge of computer terminals, knowledge she'd been given by her father's good friend, Stanley.

Things that she was mildly capable of were: lock picking, as she watched her childhood best friend, Amata, pick locks multiple times to sneak around the Vault and against her compressing father's rules, the Overseer of the Vault. Combat was taught to both girls by officer Gomez when they requested he teach them so they were able to defend themselves against Butch and his gang of bullies, the Tunnel Snakes, they called themselves. Use of rifles was self-taught. Jess had come to find that those were the three most used and basic abilities needed to survive the Wastelands, unfortunately, they were not her strongest suits.

Life, it seemed, was easy and cheery in the Vault, though she, like many of the Vault's inhabitants, loathed the confinement. So, what happened? Why did her father leave? Why didn't he tell or warn her? Why did the Overseer demand her arrest? She knew why. It was forbidden to open the Vault, and her father did, and, according to Amata, who was the one to help Jess escape, her father had also killed someone in the process.

Jess's thoughts were in shambles. Amata told her the Overseer ordered her arrest. Amata knew her father to sometimes be cruel, especially when furious. She was afraid for Jess. Jess was afraid for herself.

She barely made it out, refusing to acknowledge what could have happened had she let them apprehend her. Would they have made an example out her for the rest to bear?

...Like they did to Jonas...

Miraculously, she made it out.

She could only think of one thing, one person. Her father. She needed to find him, not just because she needed to hear the full story, but also because she was a scared, twenty-one-year-old girl, in need of her father, now more than ever.

In Megaton, a surprisingly close-to-the-Vault settlement, she'd grown to know a number of people that had lend her a helping hand. There was Megaton's sheriff, Lucas Simms. The man's manners when they'd first met greatly put her at ease. He welcomed her, warned her to stay out of trouble, and showed her to the Common House. She now resided in a small house he'd offered her after she'd successfully disarmed the bomb that had buried its form in the heart of the city. There was Lucy West, the second person she'd met in Megaton. Her and Billy Creel were, after a month's time, her closest friends. There was Jericho, who occasionally spared the three a word of mock, but he seemed to hold a sense of pessimistic wisdom to him. His tips about the Wasteland and its contents were always useful and almost essential to Jessica. There was Doc Church, whom Jess had paid more visits to, out of necessity, than she'd liked. There was Moira Brown, who was the main source of caps for Jess, her and her bizarre requests that, completing only four, had given Jess a good sum of caps. There were Gob and Nova who worked at Moriarty's bar, friends of Jess's as well, but not as close. Lastly, there was Colin Moriarty himself. Simply put, he was an ass, and everyone knew it, but the man did have a good ear. If there were rumors about, he'd either heard them, or made them. Apparently, he knew Jess's dad…and mom. Though all she'd requested was the location of her father, which he eventually gave, he also stated, quite inappropriately, that he had a thing for her mom, something Jess quickly retaliated to with a punch to his face, that he laughed off. Jess was not one of violence, but he was the type to bring the worst out of people. Had he not had said-thing for her mom, he probably would have retaliated that punch.

And so, after a month of all of that crazy, here she was, back on a month-cold trail. After an exhausting trip to the Galaxy News station, and a pointless conversation with a man named Three Dog, Jess found herself in the city mall, infested with giant Super-Mutants that she barely snuck past, on search for the Museum of Technology to retrieve for Three Dog a satellite relay dish component in exchange for the next location of her father, who seemed to be on the constant move. Just her luck. Though, a month did pass, he obviously must've moved.

In desperate need of a break, and in fear of the Mutants, she stumbled upon the Underworld, a city of Ghouls resided in the Museum of History. Warily, Jess had head in in search for rest, trade, food, a bathroom, a bed, and a strong drink. The drink being her last and final priority, leads us to now…

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