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Thatonechick3: Thank you for the nice review! Practice makes perfect, so if you you're your mind to it, then write your ass off! I started writing when I was in 7th grade, and in 9th grade I still wrote like shit.

For all who review: I will reply on the top of every chapter. I will not skip any reviews, even the mean ones I know I'll get for this chapter. I had a serious problem keeping everyone in character. Especially Flood. I really went into depth with her character and that made everything a lot harder to write. ~UP789


"Why, Charon," Flood groaned, bags forming under her eyes and beads of sweat falling around her face. "Why does Three Dog want us to move the heaviest thing movable in the wasteland?"

Charon had the heavier part of the disk above his head while Flood held the thinner part above hers. Her coat fluttered behind her and hit Charon's knees as he walked, which distracted him a bit as he held the disk above his head. Yes, why had that stupid DJ requested a fucking satellite dish? Not only had he wanted a satellite dish transported to the Washington Monument, but he also wanted it installed on the very top. Charon prayed for an elevator.

"I mean," Flood continued on her rant. "All Moirarty wanted was a chick dead and some caps. Ahzrukhal wanted caps, but the whole thing wasn't a total loss since you killed him and all. That kid in Grayditch wanted me to kill ants, the useless fuck. Did I mention those ants breathed fucking fire? Ugh, the point is, I don't want to be doing this." She readjusted the satellite end above her and sighed heavily.

Charon grumbled incoherent words under his breath and attempted to get that mother fucking jacket to stop hitting his legs without disrupting the weight balance they had going on. Flood noticed anyway, and stopped to put the satellite down. "If it bothered you, you shoulda said something," she scolded as she removed her jacket and wrapped it around her pack. Charon found himself interested in the coiled snake on the back of the leather jacket that had been underneath her duster. Who had placed it there, was it already there or was it sewn in by someone? "You can't be passive with me unless I tell you otherwise, okay?"

"Yes, Flood."

Flood hoisted the satellite back up. "Close enough for now, I guess." Charon raised an eyebrow that wasn't there and shrugged it off soon after. The woman was confusing. He supposed he'd get used to it soon.

The Washington Monument had gotten closer than Flood last remembered, and when she finally got there and walked through the gates of the elevator when it reached the top, she kept quiet. Not long after she became quiet did Charon learn about her fear of trusting people. It wasn't the height that scared her, it was the falling, and after witnessing Charon kill his previous employer without a moment's hesitation, she began to wonder just exactly how much he wanted to kill her now that she held his contract. So she tied the rope to the elevator and ordered Charon that if he failed to hold the rope and she began to fall, he was to press the down button on the elevator and let it hoist her back up. She also said that if he let go, she was gonna make him carry both packs on the way back to NCR. Which wasn't a punishment in his eyes, but his orders were to not let go. So he wouldn't let go.

"So tell me about life with Ahzrukhal," she said after five minutes of welding the satellite to the side of the tower. He wrapped the rope around his arm a fourth time.

"Not much to tell. I stood in a corner the whole time." he replied, not paying much mind to the conversation she chose to initiate.

"Ow," Flood had hit her head on the satellite looking up at him. "That hurt...anyway, I meant when the bar closed. What happens when it closed?"

"It didn't."

Silence resumed. The only sound of burning metal and wind was heard. That and faint gun shots in the distance.

The welding took three hours and the wiring took two. Flood had a problem with the electronics, and had to scroll through an Electronics magazine to see how to weave wires where and what to connect to what. Charon hadn't once dropped the rope, and thus increased Flood's trust in him. It was a success in his mind, but when he expressed his inability to multitask properly, namely securing the rope while reading the magazine, he felt as though he failed her. Flood didn't seem to mind. She'd said that "it's fine, I think my life is more important than Three Dog's satellite." and that it wasn't a problem. Charon still felt bad, but he supposed it was an upside that he didn't get punished. The guilt ate at him, but he knew he'd get over it.

The wiring wasn't done in the two hours spent on it. They had issues with how to organize the wires and where exactly to attach them. Plus, the sun had set and Flood's Pip-boy didn't give off enough light to light up what she wanted to do. There was one mattress in the corner, where there was still a bit of wall up so no one would shift in their sleep and fall to their death. Charon expected the mattress to be her own, but she hardly went near it. She busied herself with making a fire with scraps from her pack that she found useless, flammable, and something she probably wouldn't be able to sell to the next caravan she saw.

The fire stayed lit for a good majority of the night considering how useful she found most of her flammable objects. Charon would've thought that pencils were useless, but her argument was something along the lines of the lack of weight. The heavy amounts of cigarettes were for her growing addiction and the fact that people would pay lots of money for them. They were getting harder to find and harder to make. People didn't operate factories except for one or two across the country, and caravans in D.C. hardly passed by those places. So people lived on what they could. And it was enough so far.

With a lit cigarette between her teeth and Brahmin meat in her belly, Flood was relaxed with a smile spreading her lips. "So," she said to Charon, who was inspecting his shotgun as if it were a ritual. "We should talk about your contract."

Charon looked up, ceasing his ritual and setting it down gently. "What about my contract?" He didn't want to be fired so early into the job. Had he done something wrong? Perhaps she didn't find him an adequate bodyguard.

Flood threw a chunk of cement at him. "Don't look like that. I ain't gonna yell at you or nothin'." she said as if I were a joke. Her voice turned serious in the next instant. "I wanted to talk about what it is exactly. I know what you think it is, and I have an idea of what you're comparing me to. So I'm gonna tell you now that you are NOT a slave." Charon was silent, so Flood continued. "I don't know exactly what any other employers did to you or what they made you do, but I won't stick you in a corner and leave you to rot. You're my partner, not my servant. You hear me? Don't let people tell you otherwise."

Needless to say, Charon had never heard anything like that from any of his employers before. Because he was a ghoul, people tended to treat him poorly. Ahzrukhal had been the better of the employers because he hadn't berated his physical appearance nor told him to harm himself until he was a bleeding glob. Charon's previous employers had all forced him to break his own bones, called him names, and exploited him for the decaying flesh he was. The only reason Ahzrukhal didn't was because he related to his radiation problem.

Then, almost out of nowhere, a smoothskin waltzes into the Ninth Circle and buys his contract from the evil bastard. A woman no less, which would normally be worse since women feel the need to express their dominance over a situation. This one, however, treated him as an equal. Yes, she flaunted her dominance, but in metaphorical terms, the trophy was sitting on the mantle, never being mentioned; only admired. The ghoul had been with countless individuals that had used him as a kind of bargaining tool. Once, he'd been sold to correct a debt and then was ordered to shoot the man as soon as the contract traded hands. Ahzrukhal had been the one who ordered him to kill.

"Charon?" He looked away from the fire and toward Flood, who was staring him down with a serious look. It wasn't a realization that made him feel uncomfortable under her gaze, but the fact that she wasn't kidding about what she was saying was something that just made him fidget in his place.

"I understand." Charon murmured and looked at his gun, searching for more filthy parts. Flood didn't miss the sudden need he acquired to be away from her. She leaned forward and blew smoke at him, causing him to shift his eyes.

"No, I don't think you do," she said. "Don't ever lie to me. You can argue with me. You can call me names. You can attempt to kill me if you so choose. But don't ever lie." Flood leaned back in her original position and looked at the satellite hanging from the outside of the monument. "Lying makes the world that much more difficult. Having someone close to me lie just makes it damn near unbearable."

Charon thought for a moment, then stood up and pulled his pistol out of his bag. The barrel was aimed at her forehead, and she only sat there, staring off at the sky. "I'm allowed to do this? I'm allowed to threaten your life?" Flood didn't budge. "Don't ever lie to me, miss. You cannot stand the thought of being betrayed. Do not pretend you can." If she wanted to play games, then fine. Charon would play games. It was one thing to be degraded but another thing to be accused of lying. Especially under his contract.

"I'm not lying." Her eyes looked at him. It was strange how his arm didn't shake as he threatened his employer's life. "I never said I was okay with you pointing a gun at me. I never said I was okay with you threatening me. I never said you're impending betrayal never bothered the fuck out of me." Flood stood up and pulled her own gun, pointing it at him. Her movements were slow, so he knew what she was doing. Still, he didn't pull the trigger, but killing her wasn't his intention in the first place. "You, however, said you understood what I was saying to my face when you didn't even bother trying to hide the fact that you're having problems coming to terms with what I said. That is lying. I wasn't lying when I said you could do whatever the hell you wanted to do. If it bothers me, well then I'll just have to get over it, won't I?" She was becoming angry and Charon's concentration faltered. Her voice was becoming raised and a clenched feeling in his gut told Charon to keep his finger as loose on the trigger as possible. "I never said it didn't bother me, because it fucking does, Charon. It bothers me to know that as soon as I trade your contract, you'll turn and shoot me-"

"That's a lie!" Charon shouted. "I would never shoot you-"

"Bullshit! I bet you told Ahzrukhal that same thing the moment he held your contract in his filthy, booze soaked hand!"

"Why the fuck would I do that? His first order to me was to never lie, and when he asked me questions, I answered truthfully, as he wanted!"

"That was then!" she shouted and jabbed a finger into his chest. "And when did we jump way over to this, anyway? Just don't lie to me about anything! I couldn't care less about what that sick fuck Ahzrukhal did to you, only if it affects me today."

Charon had been clawing at the back of his neck while she yelled at him. Skin caught under his fingernails and clung to his fingertips. It went unnoticed; Charon was too furious. He hated being accused of disobeying his orders. "But I do understand! Whether or not I had come to terms with it or not wasn't the question you asked."

"Coming to terms is a part of understanding shit."

"Maybe in your cushy Vault it is! Out here is different and you have to abandon whatever Vaultie shit that's in your head and think like a Wastelander!"

A heavy silence fell over the two and Charon realized that it was a sensitive subject. Her face had darkened considerably and he could make out her jaw muscles grinding in the light of the fire. Immediately, he felt guilty and lowered his head, but couldn't bring himself to apologize. He'd been ashamed before, but not like this. This time, he felt a heavy guilt. He closed his eyes over the milky blue in his eyes and sighed. He knew he had to apologize, but what was her reaction exactly? She was obviously angry, but she was also a very confusing person in the twelve hours that he's known her. Would his actions warrant an apology if she had reacted as he thought she did? He had to say it eventually. It was better to say it earlier than later.

Flood turned to the left and looked out toward the wasteland as she glared daggers at whatever it was that caught her eye. Charon sighed and stepped forward, his hand outstretched in a peace gesture. "I'm sorry, miss. I'll never speak out of line again." She murmured something under her breath, as if she were whispering it to herself. Charon kept his mouth shut and his eyes on her. She looked over at him through the corner of her eye.

"Don't ever keep your thoughts to yourself." Charon kept silent. She was giving him orders and it was his obligation to listen with every ounce of energy in his body. "If you ever start an argument with me, I'll argue back. I will never punish you for speaking your mind unless you go against me physically, and we both know that's probably not gonna happen." Flood stopped for a moment to let the words sink in before ending their conversation. "Speak against me, but only if you want to. Know that I will fight back and I will win. Why? Because I have your fucking contract, that's why."

Still no words were uttered from her Ghoul bodyguard and she looked at the mattress for a second before reattaching her gaze on him. "For bringing up my past into this conversation, you don't get the mattress like I'd originally planned for you to have."

Charon furrowed his brow in confusion. "You just said that you wouldn't punish me for arguing with you."

"Thank you for bringing that up. It's nice to know your listening." Flood tossed her personal bag over onto the mattress and maneuvered around him. "And the mattress taking has nothing to do with the argument itself. I mean, I'm glad you just argued with me. It means you have a brain. However…" Flood kicked the bag so it was positioned as a pillow and turned toward Charon. She grabbed the leather straps that connected his armor to his body and pulled close to her face. If Charon had skin, his face would be red from the inappropriate proximity to her face.

"I will not tolerate any mention of Vault 101 around me ever again. That place can explode from the inside out and slaughter every living soul in there for all I care." She hesitated for only a moment, seeming unsure, but continued nonetheless. "Questions count as bringing it up. Conversations I can hear, but don't necessarily involve my personal input counts. Muttering to yourself counts. So long as I can hear it, you will regret it."

Flood let go of him and fell backwards onto the mattress. "Am I clear?" she asked him.

"Yes, Flood. Crystal clear," he responded. He understood his orders. He will listen, obey and live by her word so long as she holds that godforsaken piece of paper.

Flood said something that seemed to express her satisfaction with his answer and laid her head onto her bag. As she turned onto her side, she told him to sleep somewhere where he would feel comfortable.

His first thought was beside her on the mattress, but it disappeared so fast it seemed like the thought didn't exist at all.

So he didn't sleep.


"The Great Flood returns!"

Three Dog dramatically sung her praises as she ascended the staircase to his living quarters. She smirked at the dramatization and gripped his arm in greeting. Charon didn't pay much mind to him. Sure, before him was the voice that praised the Vaultie over the radio, but what else was he? He was just a voice to the lost souls of the Wasteland hoping for some kind of stability and a false sense of security. Once Charon reached the final step, Three Dog and Flood were already across the room. The DJ was serving her some food he'd just cooked up recently. She took a bite and tossed the bowl on the table, conversing with him about the stupid Super Mutants that almost crushed her. Not to mention they found a Behemoth sitting around in one of the larger sections of the area. Charon could remember the disbelief on her face when she said "Aw, what the fuck?" She was good to have crept about in the shadows, ignoring it completely and keeping her gun holstered. Well, until she found the rocket launchers. Her face lit up as if it were Christmas Morning during the Pre-War days.

She slipped out of her jacket while she was in mid-sentence. "The damn mutant didn't see us for shit! Not even when I was firing the rocket launchers I'd found." Flood turned toward Charon, who had been examining his Combat Knife for imperfections that he knew weren't there. "Charon, catch!" He turned over at the mention of his name and caught her leather jacket just before it fell down the stairwell. For someone with excellent aim with a rifle, she couldn't toss her coat for shit.

Three Dog looked the ghoul up and down for a moment. "Oh, sorry I didn't see you there, friend!" he said as he stood up to say hello.

Unknowning how to react to this new person that still had skin, he pulled his shoulders in and sized up the smoothskin standing to greet him. "The name's Three Dog. You Flood's new partner in crime?"

After a quick glance at Flood, who was getting another bowl and completely oblivious to the scene behind her, he looked Three Dog straight in the eyes and said "Talk to Flood."

Whatever she was doing with her back turned ceased as she recognized the words and who they were spoken to. Of course he just had to say it to the guy who says everything over the radio. Three Dog lifted a confused eyebrow as he opened his mouth to speak again, but Flood turned and tossed a spoon across the room before anyone could mention another word. She knew exactly how it would end up if Charon kept up with his reclusive attitude.

"QUICK QUESTION!" she shouted. She picked up the bowl she was preparing for Charon and walked over to the pair by the stairwell. "Can I know what I wanna know in the other room please? Charon often feels awkward when eating with a crowd around him, right Charon?"

"Yes miss."

And again, those familiar words that symbolized ownership; an ownership Three Dog was most likely going to blow out of proportion. Charon himself, however, had no clue what his actions entailed. He was doing as he was told, and Flood was quickly being annoyed for no known reason to him.

"…yeah, okay. Let's talk in the rec room." Three Dog quickly led Flood into the room and shut the door behind them while Charon was left alone with a bowl of steaming…something. It looked like noodles with a strange seasoning that might poison him.

Meanwhile, beyond the door, Three Dog rubbed at his chin as he thought of what to say. "So, who's the ghoul?"

"His name is Charon. He's my partner." Flood decided to play coy until he got smart enough to ask the right questions. She wanted to downplay it as much as possible before telling him not to broadcast this small piece of paper across the Wastes.

Three Dog caught it. "Don't play coy with me, Helen, who's the-" As quickly as he'd spoken, he was silenced by her .44 magnum to the center of his forehead.

"Don't EVER mention that name again," she whispered, her voice growing raspy with the more anger she pushed into the words. "I am not that little weakling, I am Flood. Little Helen is dead. She died when she fell off that balcony in Megaton, got it?" She blinked, then sheathed her weapon in the holster on her right thigh. "And as for Charon, I'll tell you everything you want to know if you tell me where my father is first. On the condition you don't broadcast Charon all over the damn Wastes."

Charon pondered on the name "Helen" as he sat at the table finishing off Flood's remaining food. It's not like she was going to eat it anyway. She often didn't finish her food and left it for Charon as left overs. Though he would have his own serving, she would always give him more because he was "a growing ghoul" and needed to "keep up" his strength. Whatever that meant.

Flood sat back in a chair against the wall, closest to the door, and lit up a cigarette. "Rivet City...haven't been there yet..."

Three Dog shrugged as he leaned against a table, his recording quietly shouting in the room. "It ain't far, you gotta follow some tunnels and then you'll be there in no time," he said. "James said he was lookin' for Dr. Li. They were working on Project Purity."

Charon turned his head toward the door as he placed the dishes in the sink. Being polite apparently had its quirks, he thought, as he stood by the counter.

"Project Purity?" Flood sighed a ploom of smoke. "You have to keep in mind that I'm from under a rock."

The DJ laughed. "Oh, I am. It's not too well-known what was going on in the Jefferson Memorial, but you're lookin' at the Wasteland's Gossipstone!"

"...what?"

"Never mind. Imagine a water purifier large enough to clean the entire Potomac."

Flood laughed this time. Charon observed it was more of a cackle instead of a laugh. He assumed it was because of her smoking habits, but he abandoned that quickly, knowing he wasn't a doctor and could most definitely be wrong. "As much as I don't care why, I'll tell you this: It's impossible. Science was a hobby of mine back under my rock and trust me, the rock was pretty damn good at its education."

"Well, James made it happen. He came to a standstill just before you were born-"

"You don't listen." Three Dog stopped and crossed his arms, ready to tell her to stop and pay attention before she stood up and flicked the cigarette butt off to the corner of the room. "You didn't hear the part where I don't care." She turned away toward the door, murmuring to herself again. Charon caught her whispers, and interpreted them as "Charon listens better than you."

The Disc Jockey was appalled. "You should care! Your Dad's trying to start it up again."

"I DON'T CARE!" she shouted. Her green eyes shot daggers at the man and stood higher, attempting to be more intimidating, to help him take her more seriously. "You told me where he is, where I can look. Ask your questions so I can find him before he runs off again."

Three Dog wanted to tell her to stop and listen, but her mind was set. It was just as set as when she walked in with her magnum at her hip. She wanted to find her father, and all of her attention, time and effort would go into that very cause. Why he left didn't bother her. She'd find out when she found him. He admired her for that very trait. She didn't want to bother with the smaller details. The larger cause was worth thinking about. People who thought about the smaller things found themselves losing their way.

...damn, that should be a broadcast...

He settled to keeping it to himself and waved her off. "No, just go find James. Tell him I said hi when ya find him, alright?"

"No."

He became confused, as did Charon. Did she not want to leave? "Huh?"

"No. Ask your questions."

"..." Three Dog thought for a moment. "...Where'd you find him?"

"Underworld. The Bartender at the Ninth Circle, Ahzrukhal, had him under contract and forced him to serve as a bouncer." Flood said it so nonchalantly that Charon almost thought it wasn't worth the thought. Like it was so insignificant that it almost didn't exist.

Three Dog became skeptical. "Under contract?"

"Yeah, he was brainwashed and shit to obey whoever holds an item."

"And what item would this be?"

"Why the fuck do you think I'd tell you?"

Flood picked up her duster and made toward the door. Charon retreated to his place by the stairwell. "You asked your questions, now I gotta catch my Dad."

"Aww, come on girl!" Three Dog said with a grin on his face. "One more question! Just one."

"I know what it is. And the answer is no."

Flood opened the door and walked out, nodding to Charon and tossing him the duster. "Trade ya! Leather please." Charon handed her the leather jacket and took hold of the long coat while she slipped into the snake labeled jacket. Three Dog came out and watched her prepare for her departure. She turned back to him and smirked. "Don't tell anyone where I'm going. I have a feeling I'm being hunted down by some mercs." Charon looked down at her, but didn't dare ask why until they were out of ear shot of the Brotherhood of Steel and Three Dog himself.

"See ya later, Flood! Good luck finding Dad! I'll be rootin' for ya!"


Charon had her duster over his shoulder and followed behind her with their gear in tow. They made their way towards the main roads of D.C., enroute to Rivet City, the city built on a grounded ship. He knew little about it, only that there weren't any Ghouls on it at all. It made him uncomfortable just thinking about it, and he wasn't sure how Flood would react if people began confronting his...skin condition. She would either not care or tell Charon to man up.

"So," Flood began after a long silence. "How much did you hear?"

He wouldn't lie, so he told the truth. "Most of it."

"Any questions?"

"No, Flood. None that you'd like to hear." The young woman smiled. That was an answer she wanted to hear. "Although, I'd like to know what his last question was going to be."

"Which one?...oh, that one. Yeah, definitely a no."

Charon became confused. "What was the question?"

Flood turned her head and peered at him over her shoulder. "Whether or not you were a slave."