Okay people, I'm not good with being patient, so here's the second chapter, it's a little lengthy. I promise I will start to update about once a week, possibly twice on some occasions. But I'm planning update days to be on Fridays. Rated M for violence, language and suggestive themes.

...

"Alright then, Smoothskin, let's talk business," He chuckled under his breath.

"I will work for you, you will be my employer and I your employee, with a contract and everything...to replace Charon," The bar fell silent. No one dared talk first now. All eyes were drawn to the bar.

"Now, you sure are more pleasant to look at and helpful in a great deal of different ways. You'd make me a pretty cap or two. But you cannot replace Charon. He is indispensable unless you can pay the 2,000 caps. He is my employee, faithful, stalwart and a lethal. I can pretty much point at anything and Charon hurts it," He said smirking, a challenge in his gleaming eyes.

"...Along with Charon then. I work for you for a month and through this I will pay my debt, does that sound better?" She pursed her lips, and frowned with concentration, casting deep shadows across her eyes. Ahzruhkal licked his lips.

"And what else?"

"500 caps," She said it before she could even think. Why did she always have to listen to her irrational side? Ahzrukhal thought for a moment, his smile had completely gone now and his dark brows had sunk down his face into a frown as he thought. They shot up again and he smiled brightly.

"Smoothskin, You have a deal."

"However-"

"Must there be a however?"

"However I want some ground rules. One, I will not touch you, you will not touch me without my expressed permission, nor will anyone else get this privilege without my say so, you got it? Two, don't ask me to kill people who I don't condone to be bad enough to kill and three...well, there is no three. Just two simple little rules and you have an extra pair of hands and gun power behind you."

"Except I don't, do I? What use are you to me if I can't use and abuse you? Order you to kill whoever I want, whenever I want...and how am I sure you won't run off half way through the deal?"

"Then you lose nothing and if you insist you can order Charon to kill me if I either run off or refuse an order that doesn't conflict with my two rules. He is unflinching and can't not do what you tell him to...or so I've heard."

"I'm still finding it hard to see where I benefit from your employment. If I want you to kill someone, you kill them. Do that, and we have a deal,"

"I cannot make that deal. The only reason I'm doing this is to save someone and by killing other innocents, that'd defeat the purpose,"

"Innocent? You think Charon is innocent? Are you dumb, or just naive? Charon has butchered entire families while they've slept. I've seen him tear open the throats of helpless men, women and children when they've begged for mercy with a blunt steak knife. I've seen him shoot people through the kneecaps just because he enjoys watching them writhe on the ground for a bit before he puts a bullet through their brains...and you call him innocent? Do you have any idea of what you're getting yourself into?"

"No. No I don't. Do we have a deal?" She snapped, throwing her hand out, waiting for him to shake it.

Ahzruhkal was loosing his patience. The little Smoothskin was starting to grind on his last nerve. Her employment would be worthless and a hindrance if anything. It's not like Charon needed the support...but maybe with the extra help he might get his orders carried out faster as she could help him face the annoyances of the Wastes, such as Raiders and Super Mutants. He frowned. This was getting ridiculous. Suddenly an idea hit him like a slap across the face. The corners of his lips twisted into a crooked smile.

"Prove yourself you're capable,"

"And how exactly do you want me to do that?"

"I will condone you to be worth keeping around, if, and only if, you can survive fifteen seconds after I've set Charon on you. No guns, just hands and knives."

"How do I know you're going to keep your word and give me the contract?"

"I will order Charon right now to personally deliver his contract to you after the months time is complete...if you survive fighting Charon for fifteen seconds."

Charcoal mentally swore at herself. This was so far away from how it was meant to be. She stared at Charon, who had taken his place by his master's side. He towered over her and he made Super Mutants like tiny. He was at least 7 foot, he had to be...and she was only 5'3. There was no way she was going to survive. But she was small, flexible, and good at keeping a distance between her and an enemy. Due to his height and build he was bound to be sluggish compared to her, right?

"You've got yourself a deal, Ahzruhkal." She sighed and Ahzruhkal gave a smirk and he shook her hand firmly.

"Deal. Charon, if Charcoal should survive your attack after a month from tonight your contract will be in her hands. You will then take orders from her. You got me? This is an express command. You will also kill her if she refuses or neglects to perform any of my commands." Charcoal narrowed her eyes and Ahzruhkal sighed. "So long as they are not against her two, and may I note flimsily, ground rules."

"I will do as you command,"

"Okay then, are you boys and girls ready to see a fight?" Ahzruhkal boomed, throwing his hands into the air and attracting the patrons dumbfounded stares.

"You there. Yes you, the one whose skin's falling off at the right cheek. Go out and get anybody you can, the bookies is from this moment on, open," The ghoul hobbled off and already Ahzruhkal was getting caps flung at him. Easy money.

"Are you insane? I'm betting on Charon!"

"Smoothskin hasn't got a chance. Put one hundred on Charon,"

"Four hundred on Charon!"

Charcoal thought she was drowning in the sea of "Charons" and she felt her heart begin to pound inside her ribcage. She pulled out a sharpened steak knife, and looked at Charon. Charon had just pulled out a hunting knife the size of her forearm, still stained with blackened, congealed blood from its last victim. She felt herself pale. She strung her hair back up so tight it made her scalp complain in protest at her. She ignored it. This would be the worst time possible to let loose hair fly about. Loose hair and close combat just meant another appendage that can be used to yank her back into a sharpened blade.

The bar was filling quicker than water from a burst dam and very soon a circle had enveloped itself around Ahzruhkal, people screaming out their bets, desperate for the easy caps. There was no way the smoothskin was winning.

She ran her fingers down the blade of her knife, the one she used for cutting up fillets of meat out in the wastes, but she had no intention of using it. It was her back up plan, what to use in case there was no other way out...but even then she didn't think she'd have the heart to drive a killing blow with it.

"I bet on the smoothskin."

The bar lapsed into a hush and for a moment the place transformed into a cemetery where sound itself had been laid to rest. You could almost hear the eyes sliding under their lids to face the figure in the door. Winthrop. In the silence a lone, wheezing laughter escaped someones mouth, cackling like a demented ghost.

"Good Sir, come up here and place your bet," Ahzruhkal purred through a cheshire grin. Winthrop place five hundred bottle caps in his hand.

"Are you mad, Winthrop? The Smoothskin's gonna get gutted! Why would you do that?" A ghoul with a single patch of inky black hair questioned in a rasping voice.

"Do you even know who she is? I think she'll survive, isn't that right 101?" Winthrop called out to her. Even though she felt like she was knocking on Death's door, a smile of appreciation erupted across her face.

"That's right, Winthrop. I'll get out of here and go back to collecting your scrap metal as soon as I can," She called back. The ghouls began to mutter to one another.

"Wait a minute...that's the chick on the radio? The one Three Dog howls on about?"

"I heard she went up against an entire army of Super Mutants. Fuck, she'd have to if she's been to the Museum of Technology!"

"Shit, man."

"One hundred caps on the Vaultie!"

Before long, the ghouls began to scream and bicker, calling out to place bets and this time with more zeal and a lot more bets on the "101 girl," but not even a fraction as much as Charon. Charcoal ran over to Winthrop.

"I'm freaking out, Winthrop. Why the hell did you bet on me! I don't want you filling that bastards pockets!" She sighed heavily.

"You can't think like that, you're going to survive and that's the end of it. Tulip's on your side too, says you're going to 'kick his ass' or something like that. But let's be honest here, you haven't got a chance of even scratching the man. Just for the love of God, keep ducking out of his punches and steer well clear of the knife. Don't get distracted, and please don't make me lose five hundred bottle caps. Please?"

Charcoal let out a laugh and tried to focus on steadying herself. She always shook with adrenaline and fear before a fight.

"So, where's Tuplip?"

"Gone to get Dr. Barrows,"

"That's encouraging,"

"Stay focused. Good luck out there, Smoothskin," Winthrop gave her a nod and stepped back into the crowd of ghouls that had lined around her and Charon in a circle. Charcoal felt her mouth go dry. She tried to swallow, but the motion only caused her dry throat to scrape painfully together. She looked at Charon, his expression still a dried piece of plain parchment like it was before.

"I don't want to hurt you," She called over to him, standing stiller than statue on the other side of the room.

Charon couldn't quite put his finger on the girl. Originally he hoped for a scenario like this so he could take her shotgun shells but now after what she was putting herself through to free him, a man she'd never even met before, he wasn't so sure he wanted to. Whether he wanted to or not though, the result was still going to be the same. Charon tried to search through a list of categorised emotions in his brain, the ones he had expertly learned to manipulate and control, for what may have spurred her into making this mental decision. Perhaps that was it. She was just mental. He made a note to himself that he'd try and put her out of her misery quickly.

Ahzruhkal stepped up onto the bar, surveying with a proud, pompous smile his puppets all aligned into their little positions, waiting for him to pull the strings. Really they were all pathetic. Every last one of them. At least he could make a few caps and get a few giggles out of watching the two figures in the center try and rip each others throats out. It was a shame it was only going to last fifteen seconds. As he stood there atop the bar, Ahzruhkal truly was the king of his domain, the puppet master...maybe even their God. After all he did giv'th and tak'th away, did he not? Ahzruhkal smiled blissfully at the comparison.

"Charon..." Ahzruhkal let his name roll off his tongue, and the room fell silent yet again. Ahzruhkal smirked. Dance, puppets. Dance.

"After fifteen seconds you must stop, however for those fifteen seconds..."

The crowd hung off his every word, and Charcoal felt her heart try and rip clean through her chest.

"Try to kill our little Miss 101."

Charon wasted no time. He sprang forward, knife held above his head, blade held down for the best stabbing motion he could achieve and the other arm held up, blocking his torso from attack. He was not the only one who moved. As he ran forward Charcoal saw a gap between his legs and took her chance. She ran forward to meet him, ducking under Charon's swipe with the knife and slid clean through his legs landing crouched up on the other side. She flung her right leg out, and swept it at Charon's left leg whose back was still half way turned. She met his shin, but to her horror it didn't budge. It stood firmly rooted against the attack that was meant to knock him down or at least off balance. Winthrop's words echoed. Steer well clear of the knife. Shit.

She ducked to the right, and the blow that was meant to sever her spine instead plunged into her deltoid muscle, cutting through her black leather armor like it was Egyptian silk. She howled out in agony and thrust her shoulder, the one she had modified with raider sadist spikes, into his side, impaling him on a dozen sharpened stakes.

Charon let a snarl rip through his teeth. The girl tried to dart back out of his reach but Charon was too fast. He clamped his fingers over her smooth neck that felt like porcelain under his rough fingers, and began to squeeze, lifting her off her feet.

Charcoal felt her throat slam shut. She tried to choke, but no air came to her lungs to do so. Charon wasn't just trying to strangle her, he was attempting to cave in her windpipe. She felt the pressure of the boiling blood bubble in her head, and her eyes began to haze over, speckles of burning light already starting to flash in her vision. If she didn't do something now, she was going to die and all this would have been for nothing. She bared her teeth and thrust her knife deep into Charon's forearm, feeling the tendons sever string by string. She waited. Nothing happened. Charon's grip only got tighter, going for the kill. Her neck was close to snapping. She stared into Charon's face a felt his eyes burn. Gathering a blast of air into her mouth, she spat into his grimacing face. Charon's face blanked in shock. The grip loosened for a moment.

Charcoal slammed a punch into his jaw, causing his brain to ricochet into his skull with a force that would have caused an instant black out in most men. But Charon was not most men. He growled in anger, and couldn't help but wonder how such a tiny thing could hurl a punch of that power.

In that second, Charcoal managed to wriggle out of his grip and shot like an arrow from a bow onto the top of the bar. Charon started to spin to face her, a fist curled up ready to strike. Charcoal leapt from the bar, landing on Charon's back and using her thighs to squeeze the sides of his neck and stop his head from turning. She threw the crook of her elbow over his eyes, attempting to blind him momentarily. It couldn't be long now.

She glared wide eyed in horror at Ahzruhkal, pleading for him to call the end of the fight. It couldn't be much longer, could it? Snap. Charcoal felt her shin bone break clean in half. She let out a piercing shriek of agony as she fell onto the floor. The excruciating pain snarled like wildfire through her nerves, her head started to shut down from the pain and she felt her stomach churn and her broken leg spasm, causing an electric shock of sheer torture to course through her muscles. Before she could register anything, Charon threw himself over her to keep her down. His legs either side of her, one hand pinning her down by the throat and the other raised with the hunting knife that smirked madly down at her. She crunched her eyes shut. But nothing happened.

The grip over her throat loosened until it just rested gently across her neck. Charon didn't get up, but knelt above her, his eyes still locked on her. But this time, they weren't glaring. They were blank again. Yet buried deep in the irises that reflected the colour of the ashes of a fire long dead, Charcoal thought she saw a spark of something else, before it dropped back to the grave.

Suddenly sound washed over her, and she heard some people screaming in rage, hoarse with the effort, and others cheering as they demanded their reward money. She even heard a few claps of high fives. Then she smelt the metallic tang of her own blood.

She felt the pain lull her out of consciousness before the searing agony cracked like a whip, making her jolt underneath Charon's weight back to reality. She suddenly realised that her eyes were stinging with the brine of scalding tears but they didn't run and instead pooled up in her gleaming eyes, her pupils swimming up at Charon who stared back. She heard an echoing laugh above the noise.

"Well what do you know, Smoothskin? You are of some use after all," Ahzruhkal barked, still standing on top of the bar his hands clamped against his waist, bent over to get a better look at her misery. The outcome wasn't what Ahzruhkal had planned, and yet he wasn't disappointed.

"Ahzruhkal, get your dog off of her!" Tulip hissed as she burst through the door, closely followed by Dr. Barrows and Nurse Graves who were carrying a year's supply of stimpacks, MED-X and a blood bag with tubes and an IVF.

"Charon, let your new colleague get up...if she can."

The truth was, Charcoal wasn't getting up, instead she lay like a broken rag doll as Charon stepped off of her, ignoring the dagger that was still embedded in his forearm and the stain of blood that had begun to pool around the left side of his chest. Charcoal meanwhile, was marinating in an impressive pool of blood herself. It gushed from her deltoid muscle and wept from the open fracture of her shin bone. She began to shudder with convulsions.

Dr. Barrows shoved his way to where she was lying, Graves following. They collapsed to the ground at her side, and began working immediately.

"She's going into shock, Doctor,"

"Well observed, Nurse Graves. I knew I kept you around for some reason. Now do something useful and check if her ribs are damaged. If not, prop her up for me," He ordered as he punctured her arm in the crook of her elbow with the IVF and snarled at a nearby ghoul to hold the blood bag above them who was too scared to refuse.

Graves Unbuckled the belts that held on some of her Raider armor and tore off the leather armor jacket, revealing a flimsy, stained grey tank top that reached just above her hip bones that protruded a little bit more than what was healthy. She was even smaller than she suspected, but it didn't surprise her that a vault dweller would loose some weight out in the Wastes. She felt around her chest, and looked for blood around her mouth and nose that could indicate internal bleeding. Nothing. Once satisfied, she propped her up and Charcoal lolled onto Graves' shoulder, head reeling and thoughts tangling in her brain. She muttered inaudibly.

Barrows adjusted her top to get a better look at the stab wound. He wiped a moderately clean rag across it to wipe the blood away, making her shudder beneath his touch. He injected a stimpack into the flesh around it and it began to work immediately. Her wound began to slowly repair itself, the flesh knitting back together, the skin scabbing and eventually fading to a pleasingly clean white line of a scar. He nodded to graves who let Charcoal lie back down. Charcoal began coughing heavily, causing more pain to vibrate through her aching bones.

"Barrows?" She wheezed, reaching up to him as if to make sure he wasn't an apparition and squinting her eyes.

"Doctor Barrows...yes it's me Smoothskin. You're going to be okay, I'll get that leg sorted for you but it's not going to be comfortable, okay? We're going to take you down to the Chop Shop, Graves and I are going to carry you and-"

"I'll help too," Winthrop called, nudging his way to her side through the remaining ghouls that weren't collecting wins or hadn't lost interest and skulked back the shadowy corners they'd crawled from.

"I don't like being interrupted, Winthrop," He sighed heavily, and turned his attention back to Charcoal.

"Winthrop, Graves and I are going to carry you, get you out of your armor and mend that leg. By the way there's a bulge in your leg, I'm guessing it's an open fracture."

Charcoal tried to speak but spluttered out a cough instead. She looked to the side of Graves and saw the pile of stimpacks. She reached out, and curled her pale, slender fingers around one and cringing held it out in the direction of Charon.

"He's...wounded...I'm-" She paused to jerk with a coughing fit. "-Sorry,"

Winthrop let out a nervous laugh, but quickly shut his mouth when no one else made a sound.

"You have to be joking, Charcoal. He just tried to kill you. He did this to you!" Winthrop cried, looking backwards and forwards between her and Charon who stood motionless in his corner.

"No...Ahzruhkal...Ahzruhkal did this to me. Not him," She breathed out through gasps, and shook her hand in the direction of Charon again.

"Give this to him...please,"

Winthrop glared at Charon, and Charon looked to Ahzruhkal, who shrugged his shoulders.

"Charon, take it if it's free. You're no use to me when you're injured,"

Charon walked forward ignoring the glares of Winthrop, Graves and Barrows. He knelt down, and stared at the woman who squirmed a little, trying to find the least painful way to lie down. She tried a smile, but it turned into a grimace. He unsheathed the dagger from his arm with a light grunt, and replaced the stimpack in her hand with the bloodied knife. He slid the stimpack into a pocket in his black leather armor for later, and got up and stepped away from her.

Charon watched as Barrows, Graves and Winthrop carried her out. He gritted his teeth as he released a gush of air from his lungs, causing the puncture wounds in his side to pulse a wave of pain through him. He stalked back to his corner, and straightened his spine, returning to his directed look out point. Before she could be carried out, Ahzruhkal cleared his throat.

"Poor little broken Persophone. You asked me who I was, didn't you? Do you want know?"

Charcoal managed to tilt her head up to bore her glare into him, which planted a smug smile across his face.

"I am Hades and you are mine. "

...

Stick around guys, next chapter will be out next week. Whether you're a member of or not, I really appreciate reviews so you can give me feedback, ideas and generally just let me know how things are getting on. Thank you.