Disclaimer
This story contains a potentially lethal combination of violence, foul language, angst, ghoul porn, cheese and fluff. If you take exception to any of these things, just don't read the thing.

Fun fact:
This is my very first fanfic.

I Don't Want To Set The World On Fire.
by A.G.F aka. MorphiaSurgery

-1-

The day I happened upon the Underground I was above all trying to avoid becoming a red stain on the pavement. I was dragging my carcass along a wall, frantically searching for an out,
because playing a game of hide and seek with missile launcher wielding super mutants is a lot less fun than it sounds no matter what they'll tell you.
The corners of my vision blackened and vibrated as my hearing faded into discord registering nothing but an internal high pitched whine and the distant bellows of the muties as they searched for me to finish the job. I stumbled blindly towards what I could barely make out as a doorway a few yards beyond the wall I was hugging for dear life.

Like an idiot, I had a pack full of stolen miscellanea but no stimpacks (or psycho or jet for that matter) and traipsing around The Wastes, withdrawing from dope(s) with a blinding head injury and a gibbled leg as stupid and suicidal as taking on a Behemoth with a pair of brass knuckles.
Which is to say, pretty fucking stupid.

The muties faded into little jaundice colored blobs across the trenches as
I staggered past some woman ignoring her as she talked at me in a raspy voice.

Now was not the time for introductions or manners. I ducked into the blurry shape of a door, on a hunch that the humanoid guard outside not attacking me may mean shelter and stimpacks inside. It was worth a try. It was either what was behind door number one or back to let the Super Mutants stuff me into a gore sack. I limped to the door, leaned on it and opened it, cringing at the squeak it uttered.
Inside, nothing but cavernous silence bouncing off stately marble.
I noiselessly padded forward as well as I could on my injured leg and looked up in awe as the remains of monsters from picture books and a huge skull carved of stone greeting me before my vision started to shift downwards before sliding into blackness like a mirelurk returning to the depths.

I tried to will myself to get up as the sound of soft, scratchy voices drew closer.

"God I hope they're not cannibals" was the last thing I remembered thinking before succumbing to unconsciousness. Despite what some uneducated people think of ghouls, most of them aren't cannibals and luckily these ones weren't as far as I knew.

I woke up to a faint and sickly sweet odor akin to rotting flesh and rubbing alcohol.
Long story short I owe Dr. Barrows and the inhabitants of the Underworld my very life, so anyone who badmouths them can stick a frag grenade up their ass and pull out the pin if I don't do it to them first. I'm not just saying that either.

On the advice of Dr. Barrows I spent an indulgent week in a cot healing, chatting with Nurse Graves and reading the stack of comics I had thankfully stashed in my rucksack. I also met a woman named Reilly there but that's another story.

When I was more or less well, I recollected my gear, paid the Doctor a generous amount of caps and toddled off to have a look around the Underground and undo all of Dr. Barrow's good work by getting me something to drink, smoke, snort, pop and/or inject.
Not that I'm an addict or anything. I just do enough to get by and keep things interesting.

I systematically searched the place starting with the first floor, met a bunch of damn decent ghouls and a rancorous robot who I intentionally avoided. I've dealt with more robots than you can shake a stick at and I'll just never completely trust 'em because of that they're all just a combat inhibitor doo- hickey away from becoming killing machines and that just doesn't help me relax any.

I ventured upstairs and shot the shit with a ghoul called Snowflake who was nice enough to spruce me up with a new haircut, up me a huff of jet and even dish a little good gossip.
When I find a new city I like to save the bar for last because I inevitably send up sticking around in the bar and this time was no exception but it does mark the beginning of the end.

Not a moment later I entered The 9th Circle and I felt him even before I saw him.