Part 2 – Ghoulification : Revolution

Feluric was tethered along with the other slaves, in a group of four, and carrying the sack he had been assigned, full of something heavy, which was considerably larger than those of the other slaves. Occasionally one of the slaves collapsed. If they couldn't be revived, they were detached from his or her fellows, and thrown into the back of the wagon with the resting guards, which was mostly empty since the slaves were carrying everything. When the collapsed slave came to, which they inevitably did – the slavers wanted to break their investments, not kill them – they were tied back with the others. The wagon was also pulled by slaves.

Everyone collapsed at least a few times. When Feluric returned to consciousness, he pretended to remain still for awhile, listening to the guards. Eventually he learned that the slavers were on the end of a constantly repeating year long circuit which had recently been extended slightly to include the Monastery and some settlements nearby it. Now they were headed "back" East to somewhere known as the ruins of Muntreal, or just Munt, and more specifically, the See'um that inhabited it.

The See'um was a huge pre-war building, one giant room, with a flat bottom, and sloping sides moving up diagonally towards the limit of the walls, lined with steps and benches. The roof had mostly caved in, and broken pieces of rock littered the floor of the arena at the bottom. There was, however, enough of it remaining to provide shade to those sitting and observing. The slavers used it as an attraction: Call'nSee'um, then buy 'em. Slaves faced off in the bottom of the pit, while observers sat on the slopes and bet on the fights or picked out items for sale. If you bid on and won a winner, well, you'd be getting quality for sure. If you couldn't afford the victor, at least the loser would probably be on sale. Not all of the entertainment was one-on-one slave matches. Sometimes there were teams, or a free for all, or a group of difficult-to-sell slaves would be set against giant radscorpions or feral ghouls or even a Deathclaw. Occasionally you might see a common Wastelander family trying to buy back a loved one. And, every once in awhile, if they were healthy enough or the women attractive enough, they'd simply be taken and sold off as slaves themselves, outside of the See'um. They never actually had enough caps to buy out their loved one.

Many of the slaves wanted to be bought. It was better than being stuck with the slavers, and if they impressed the right people during the fights, they could get some pretty cushy bodyguard or soldier posts. Why, for that matter, would they run after they'd been sold? Run off into the wasteland and die of radiation poisoning, or dehydration. They'd at least be somewhere doing something if they were bought, rather than packed into a cell with twenty others.

Feluric wasn't sure why he hadn't been bought yet. He couldn't even eavesdrop because the slavers here all spoke some strange language. He won many of his matches, at least after the first few weeks; he had eventually learned to fight and defend himself with his fists. Perhaps he went unsold because he was a crowd favourite; not many could match his fury in the ring. He vented his frustration and rage at what had been done to him, stripped of his pride and enslaved, at the behest of those he'd trusted and even served, on his opponent. He didn't simply win the match; he destroyed his enemy, often crippling the other man, then overwhelming him all at once. Sometimes if they were matching him up against a clearly weaker opponent, they'd give his enemy a weapon – a knife, a hammer, some kind of dart gun. They'd never given Feluric a real weapon, maybe because of the first slaver he'd killed at the Monastery. They did give him brass knuckles for a hand once, and he'd almost killed the other man. He couldn't help it, the psycho, the chems they gave him before he went in, made him viciously strong and fast - he'd do things before he realized it. Then, afterwards, for what seemed like days, and perhaps was, he'd be writhing on the floor of his cell, clawing at his face as his eyes felt like they were melting out of their sockets. Occasionally, if his guards were bored, they'd open his cell door during these crippling spasms and tell him he was a free man, that if he could just get out the door, he'd find a mountain of caps and women and his own slaves waiting for him. If any of his cellmates tried to walk out, they'd be viciously beaten and told that the offer was only for "The Brawler". Even if Feluric could have walked out, he wouldn't have allowed himself. If he did, he'd be dooming the entire Monastery – but a voice at the back of his head always screamed, "They abandoned you! Abandon them to their deaths!" During one of these spasms, he thought he'd heard a guard say, "That one... for the Legion… to... expensive … pay that price." Feluric couldn't tell if it was in reference to himself, nor did he have any idea who the Legion was. If it was him, they'd waited an awfully long time; he couldn't tell how long, but it felt long. Months? Years? At least a year must have passed by now, Feluric thought, but he couldn't tell. He wasn't even sure how old he was anymore.

One night, he woke to find his cell mates gone, his cell empty, and the door wide open. He stared at it for a few moments before getting up and walking over to it, looking out into the Wasteland, a full moon overhead throwing deep shadows from the ridges and boulders. He looked to each side of the cell. No one. There was absolutely no one in sight anywhere. He didn't even attempt to stop himself, wanting to scream at them that it was their own choices that had made this. He began to run, straight, straight ahead out into the wasteland, even as he heard Gabriel's voice in his ears, unable to soothe him.

At least nine weeks now since Feluric had escaped. He'd managed to break the collar off fairly early on, in fact, he hadn't even done it on purpose. The spasms had gotten much worse when he'd first been out in the wasteland. He'd find some scraps, or manage to throttle some dog driven mad by radiation, and eat that, quenching his desperate thirst with any irradiated puddle he happened across, then be overcome by agony and pass out, seemingly for days, waking up with cramps from hunger and dying of thirst. Rather than just his eyes, his skin, his lungs, even his bones, felt like they were burning and charring. Recently though, they'd begun to get better. Rather than passing out from pain, he would simply pass out, and not for too long; at least not as long as before.

He had been fishing water out of the first large pool he had come across that had been clear enough for him to be sure there were no mirelurks hiding in the cloudy muck. Now he simply sat there, as he had been for the past hour, staring down at his new reflection and thinking, and remembering, and thinking. Gabriel came to mind a lot. He had expected to die along with everyone in the Monastery. He'd known it was wrong to run – he'd known from the start that it was wrong. So this is how he had ended up, this aberration. He should have died, not become this... Now he was relearning his own face as the reflection of a ghoul stared back at him.

A sound above him, on the ridge to his back. Instincts took over. Feluric glanced up, then immediately moved out of sight. He heard voices, someone was calling Mary. He wondered if it could be slavers, wait, that didn't matter. He was a ghoul now. Even if they were searching for him, which was very unlikely, they wouldn't recognize him. Most travelling groups would probably just assume he was Feral and shoot him on sight. He had to avoid being seen – fuck, the water. That clear water would lure anyone down the ridge. He had to move. Feluric began sneaking, badly. This wasn't going to work. A small hole in the side of the ridge, miraculous! Feluric slipped inside. He took a few steps, it turned into a slope. He fell, sliding down. An echoing sound as he landed in a much larger tunnel, subway tunnels! He passed out.

Feluric opened his eyes to see a ceiling, light casting shadows upon it. He decided he was sick of passing out and waking up, and especially of being unable to remember where he was.

"Oh, heh, fuck, you're open just like that. No problem. I knew ya might be worth carrying, mate."

Feluric bolted up, scrambling, trying to orient himself towards the voice.

"Woah, woah there. You didn't look feral..." Feluric finally realized there was a ghoul on the other side of the tiny room. The walls, if you could call the metal sheets walls, went straight up to the sloping roof, clearly the inside roof of a subway tunnel. The ghoul was levelling a rifle at Feluric, gazing down the sight.

Feluric tried to speak. A gravelly growl came out. He hadn't spoken in a long time. He tried again, "Not feral!" words, but still very gravelly. His voice, even his tongue, felt foreign to him. The ghoul lowered his gun, but held onto it.

"Been out in the Wasteland for awhile, eh? Not so sophisticated anymore, are ya? Or were you ever? Either way, Suriel will change that." He gestured around himself, at the room. "This is Suriel's place. Best damn shack we got here in the ghoul slums. I'll be gone after she gets back, and you two can enjoy these luxurious surroundings without me." Feluric was trying to figure out what had happened to him.

"You... brought me here?" He asked slowly after sitting down again, trying getting used to his tongue and voice.

"Sure did. You're a heavy bastard." The ghoul finally relaxed and put his rifle on the crude stool beside him.

"Where is... here?"

"Like I said, this is Suriel's shack. It's in the ghoul slums of Glowlight town, which is actually more that way," he gestured, "outside of the subway tunnels. The smoothskins sure as hell don't like to keep us around much, but they need our help every once in awhile. Not sure why Suriel wanted you here, but you're lucky she did. I'm Rupple, by the way."

"I'm Feluric," he was beginning to master his voice again, "sir." A habit he'd picked up from the slavers.

Rupple let out a bark of coarse laughter, apparently short of words for the first time since Feluric's awakening. Feluric noticed he was missing about half his teeth. Feluric pawed at the air in between and below his eyes, just to make sure.

"I understand," said a softer voice, from the opening in the walls, usually covered by a cloth. Feluric wasn't really sure how he hadn't noticed her entrance.

"Suriel!" Rupple inclined his head demurely towards her, all trace of his former bravado gone. "He's in good condition, but jumpy. Any trouble, give me a shout."

"I'm sure that won't be necessary." The female ghoul – Suriel - answered as Rupple left. She looked at Feluric. He stood up, glancing around, feeling as if something was expected of him.

"Thank you, Suriel," He was somewhat on his guard, "Rupple showed you a lot of respect. Oh," he remembered, "I'm Feluric. Is there... something you want my help with?"

Suriel looked straight into his eyes, then turned to the sink – Feluric wasn't sure if it was connected to anything - in one corner, speaking over her shoulder, "Glowlight is a safe little town, hidden away from the slavers here on the north-east side of the Munt ruins, and we enjoy merciful treatment from the people in town, who ask only that we support them. You should stay. It is better than wandering the Wasteland, and I am sure that you will make a very fine contribution."

Feluric said nothing.

"There is a reason for all of us to be here, as well as a return path."

"If you talk like that, no one will have any idea what you're trying to say."

"You are here, like this, trapped in this body, for a reason. However, one day, we may all walk the path back out of these tunnels, return to the settlement of the people above, as we once were."

Feluric was silent once again. After awhile, Suriel finished her work. She picked up a small mirror and walked over to Feluric, who raised his head. She looked straight at him again with that uncomfortable, milky, filmed eyed stare of a ghoul for many moments, but then smiled. She raised the mirror up to his eyes. His clear, unblemished, human eyes.

"You are our hope."

He was useless. Feluric had no role in the ghoul slums. There were hunters, crafters, water-finders. Suriel was the closest thing to a leader the slums had, although she took absolutely no active place in governing. She was simply the one everyone went to, and everyone paid their respects to. The ghoul slums lay about 300 metres from the outer boundaries Glowlight town, in the mouth of the nearby subway tunnels. A large portion of the tunnels were blocked off by a wide and deep radiation pit, filled with radioactive canisters and barrels, difficult even for ghouls to cross. The pit was not a perfect defence, however. Feral ghouls often made it across, as well as the occasional irradiated beast. There were also a myriad of side-tunnels and passages around the pit, and more opened up every day. Beasts, Ferals, and once even a haggard group of raiders came through those tunnels. The raiders hadn't been easy to deal with; they shot the ghouls on sight, however once they had been dealt with, their weapons added considerably to the precious stockpile of firearms and ammo that the slums possessed to keep itself safe. The greater human portion of the town generally controlled all weapons, leaving the ghouls to fend for themselves.

Most of the ghouls in the slums came from the town, cast-offs after ghoulification. The rest had come to the slums on their own, or else tried to go to the town, and were pointed in the direction of the slums by rifle barrels. All the "old town" ghouls believed that they would one day be redeemed and returned to humanity, after defending it for so long from the threats coming up out of the subway tunnels. Feluric's eyes only seemed to have an effect on the old towners so far as they were being practically worshipped by Suriel. It was because they were barely noticeable, Feluric realized. He wasn't even sure why his eyes hadn't changed. A side effect of the chems, perhaps. He did find that if he opened his eyes and stared at people in a disconcerting fashion, similar to what Sariel had repeatedly done to him upon his arrival, he could surprise and intimidate them into a stunned state of silence, as they saw in his eyes the human he had once been, contrasted with the leprous creature he now was.

Feluric did eventually discover a few useful duties, but he still considered himself largely useless, as he was lacking any particular focus or drive or place. He could "pop" a pistol that was jammed right back into working condition, which was important enough, when the slums only had 2 or 3 serviceable pistols at a time. He was also good at exploring, scouting, and scavenging the deeper subway tunnels – he could lock-pick a few doors - and fighting off anything that might threaten Glowlight.

That was what the humans of the settlement called on the ghouls for. Glowlight sat on the North-Eastern extreme of the ruins of Munt, just across the river, and as such was far removed from all the slavers and settlements around the southern or central portions. This, however, isolated it and made it easy prey for the raiders that constantly radiated out from the centre of the ruins. The people of Glowlight couldn't allow the raiders any leeway, or else they'd return with more, and while they had a permanent armed guard – as well as some houses with actual working plumbing – they often called upon the ghouls to come help them fight. Feluric, feeling he hadn't contributed enough, was the first to volunteer for every one of these Glowlight protection squads. The rest of the squad was often made up by old towners, presumably trying to redeem themselves, although Newcomers began to join in too, in order to scavenge weapons, caps, and other valuables from the dead raiders before the humans came to the scene. The humans wouldn't allow the ghouls to take anything they found on the raiders.

"Pay the guards of Glowlight respect, Feluric. They are guardians and protectors, and the Creator has blessed them. Treat His servants with reverence." Suriel had told him. Feluric called the guards "sir". It brought back violent feelings of rage from when he was a slave. He was still a slave, only in a slightly different situation. Just as Suriel said, he was a slave until he was released, after what he had done. He forced the sentiments down.

During one of these hunts, Feluric had been chasing one particular raider, laden with ammunitions, weaponry, and precious grenades across a last rocky stretch of wasteland; he was by far the fastest of the ghouls, and they were far away from the humans by now. He'd have no problem looting and fleeing. He mounted a ridge, right behind the raider, then launched himself down onto the man and smashed his face into the rocks. Feluric was the only fighter in Glowlight more effective without a firearm. He quickly began stripping the raider of everything valuable, planning to make a beeline for the ghoul slum, which desperately needed a replenished armoury.

"Drop it all."

Feluric swore to himself under his breath. How had he not heard the human coming? Since turning Ghoul he noticed almost everything that went on around him. He turned and looked. A Glowlight guard was aiming an assault rifle at him. Feluric thought he remembered her name. Shannon.

"I said drop it, zombie." Feluric stood still as the guard fired three warning rounds into the corpse of the slaver at his feet.

"You just wasted three bullets, sir." She took aim at his head.

"Watch yourself, smoothskin," snarled a rough voice. A ghoul had just topped the ridge behind the human now, and had an old bolt-action rifle pointed at her. Feluric hadn't heard him coming, either. He realized it was Carson, an impulsive and fiery Newcomer. The human was clearly surprised; she immediately began to spin, readying her assault rifle as she did. Feluric instantly leapt across the body of the raider and lunged at her, before she could even turn halfway around, crossing the distance between them in half of a second before smashing into her and throwing her down backwards, sliding to a stop in front of Carson, who put the barrel of his rifle against her forehead.

Feluric got up. The human was gasping for breath, "Fucking... zombies..."

Shit! Feluric thought. He didn't know how they were going to get out of this mess. They might already be dead. What were they gonna do with this guard? He quickly walked to the edge of the ridge to see if anyone else was in sight or heading towards them.

"Anyone coming?" asked Carson, his eyes fastened on the still winded human.

"None yet." Feluric heard a shot. He turned. The guard was dead.

"Raiders got her." Carson shrugged. Feluric stared.

A silent moment passed. Feluric walked up to Carson, put a hand on his rifle, gave him a hard look, pulled it out of his hands, then walked back to look past the ridge. Still no one. He looked back to the guard, and the corpse of the raider. "Damn... Alright, grab the raider's corpse and let's go. We were never here." Carson picked up the raider corpse and the dead guard's assault rifle, "And don't let anyone see that assault rifle, or we're fucked. They'll know where it came from." Still, Feluric thought, damn good weapon. It'll help people, save lives in the slum.

"C'mon, Fells. Bitch was ready to shoot you over a few 'nades…"

The most recent ghoul squad outing had resulted in an injury for Feluric. It was bleeding badly, but he'd seen the others recover from worse, and quickly. The others were leading him through the ghoul slums to the radiation pit in the back. This was where all the medical supplies were stored, although he'd never seen them before. He'd always been interrupted when he was going to inspect them. He wasn't optimistic.

They climbed down into the pit and Feluric felt the familiar warmth of radiation. The others began to lounge around. He lowered himself down gingerly, although he was beginning to feel better. He growled. "Where are those medical supplies?"

Silence. Then Carson spoke up, "Shit, I knew he fought like a Feral, but I didn't think he'd start to lose his mind like one."

Feluric gave Carson his stare, "I've been fucking shot. Supplies."

Carson held up his hands in surrender, "Sorry, chief. They're all around you," he gestured to the barrels, the pit, "you know, the radiation. It'll fix you up better than any stimpak."

Feluric realized he was feeling better. He looked down at his two wounds, he... it was crusting over in real-time. He could see the movement. He gawked.

Rupple roared with laughter, "Well shit, I guess fearless leader don't know everything, eh boys? Guess we're still useful for something!" He laughed again. Rupple was an old town ghoul, but he seemed to associate mainly with the newcomers.

Feluric actually smiled at him. Yet another unexpected benefit to being a ghoul. "I seem to remember you carrying my useless body halfway across all the subway tunnels in Munt, Rupple. Actually, I don't, because I was unconscious the whole time."

"You've more than paid me back for that, mate, saved my damn life..."

Over the years, Feluric revisited the pit many times even when not injured, fascinated by the ability to use radiation for medical purposes. He didn't come to any better understanding of the subject, but he did find that he could "store" the radiation inside his own body for a time, and if wounded in combat, would immediately begin to regenerate. Incredible, he thought...

"I know you expect great things from me, but... well, how long are you willing to wait, Suriel?" She looked over her shoulder at him. Feluric knew, by now, that this meant he was being stupid. Suriel often invited him over to discuss the troubles a newcomer was having after coming to the town, or to speak to him of the Creator, or to ask his help with something, or even just to talk. He knew why. It was the eyes. They proved his humanity. But what did that even mean? He wasn't sure what to do with them. Out of all the people in the ghoul slums, Feluric knew that Suriel was the wisest, most able giver of guidance.

"I first came to this ghoul-residence eight decades ago. My father was the founder of the town of Glowlight. I... became like this, invisible in the eyes of the Creator, nine decades ago. I was 23. At first I was allowed to remain in the town, protected by my father, but of course, I outlived him. I have outlived everyone. His successors were also merciful; however they could not bear to co-exist with a creature not known to the Creator, and so I was sent here, where two other ghouls were working out an existence. In time, this community has formed, of ghouls that have wandered in, but mostly outcasts from my father's town. We, as ghouls, are cast into purgatory. We are held back from the peace of death, unable to reproduce or to marry. We are nothing, we can make nothing. But you are a sign. You come, a return to humanity evident on your face, and as you come, you bring the greatest influx of newcomers we have ever achieved. We have received more than we have ever had in the time since you have come, and now, the newcomers may even begin to outnumber the ghouls who once lived under the Creator in Glowlight." She had been getting steadily closer to him as she spoke, and now she reached out and cupped his cheek with her hand, tilting his head so she could look into his eyes. "Perhaps you will be the one, in years to come, to gather us all and lead us to salvation again, redeem us in the eyes of the Creator. You are the morning star, Venus, rising in the blue-black sky just before the sun, leading us into the light of the Creator."

Feluric couldn't speak. Moments passed. He began to consider this more. The newcomers, his people, did now outnumber the old town ghouls. But they would never go for this. They didn't believe that humanity was the epitome of their potential. But how many would really take the opportunity to return, if they could? He knew they were loyal, and would follow him, but his direction still wasn't clear.

"Feluric, there is a reason you became this way; you wandered from the Creator's path. You will repent in time, and redeem us all. Until then, we are in purgatory for eternity - undying. "

Redemption from ghoulishness into the humans they were meant to be. Repentance for what he'd done.

Feluric reached up with both hands and pulled Suriel's face to his.

Out in the gathering darkness of the wasteland, just apart from the mouth of the metro tunnels and sort of halfway in between Glowlight and the slums, Feluric was being talked down to by a human. Living as a ghoul in this settlement for four years, he'd mostly accepted his role and such treatment from the humans, but now he was actually beginning to feel faint, and was trying to stare hard at the ground at his feet.

"Your people need not fear the Maker, nor shun his people! In the West, we are a bastion to your kind, a Monastery of hope and unification! The people of this town are ignorant, and cruel. The Monastery does not abandon its own!"

Four years under the heels of these humans... he had bent his knee and grovelled and been called zombie more times than he could count. Why?

"Even I, no more than a common Wastelander, was taken in by them and returned, not only to good health, but to the light of the Maker! Now I am a loyal disciple! Do not stay here, Ghoul! Salvation will only be found in the Monastery! Then you will never be abandoned by him!"

Feluric's vision went so dim that part of him thought he must be blacking out, but when he reflexively looked up he was much closer to the surprised man than he had been before, and getting closer. Then the Wastelander lay at his feet, unmoving. Feluric was still clenching his fists, hard. He wished the disciple had lasted longer.

"Feluric." Suriel was watching from some distance away, but he very clearly heard her say his name in this quiet way. At the sound, his head swung up immediately and looked straight at her. She recoiled, then turned, and began running towards the human settlement. The guards had set up a fire on the outer boundaries of Glowlight, in between the slums and the city, for the sentries they kept there, supposedly to prevent reprisals from the ghouls, ones that never came.

"No!" Feluric screamed. She didn't stop. He stood still. He could already hear shouts from the town, he thought. Then he paced for a few moments, spun, and headed back towards the slums.

"Idiot, why would you even go near the place after a human's been killed by a ghoul..." He knew she would be fine, though. The humans seemed to acknowledge her, at least a little. It was him who had to worry. Suriel would probably try to defend him, but she wouldn't lie. He looked back at the fire. It seemed much larger than usual. A bonfire. He swore and began sprinting towards Glowlight.

He moved quickly, as he always did, but by the time he was about 200 metres from the fire, he could see the silhouettes of three guards throwing a bound figure into the now raging inferno. He charged ahead, faster, but feeling slower than he'd ever been.

The guards weren't guarding. Nothing had ever happened on this post, and none were paying attention. Until, out of the darkness, Feluric charged into one of them, sending the man flying back, into the edges of the fire, and presumably knocking his head on something, because he caught fire and didn't move. Feluric waded into the flames, ignoring the pain, and pulled her out. She came easily; the ropes must have been almost burned through. He had heaved her out of the fire and onto the ground before a shot rang past his head. A trembling guard was trying to aim a rifle at him. If it was any other time he'd have grinned. The newbie shift. Instead, he leapt forward, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and yanking it out of the guard's hands. Then he swung it, in a wide arc. The butt end connected in between the guard's neck and collarbone with a crunch. The guard went down. The third one was already running away, towards the town, which seemed suspiciously empty from here. Feluric quickly turned and picked up what had been Suriel and began sprinting towards the slums. From the moment he'd picked it up, he knew he was holding a corpse.

As he passed through the slums, ghouls gathered. It seems some of them realized what – who, he was holding. He found the deepest part of the radiation pit and laid her down.

Again. Again!

He put his hand to his face, then realized it was charred. He watched the wounds heal up. He looked at her. What am I doing...

Feluric picked her up again and wandered back into the slums.

There was a "slum centre", a sort of open square in the middle of the slums with nothing in it. That's where he stopped. A crowd had gathered there. He put her down on the ground.

There were murmurs. For some reason he was being left alone in the middle of a ring of ghouls, next to her corpse.

"They're going to come find us. We have to hide, or beg their forgiveness." Someone said. Suddenly Feluric came to life again. He felt as if he was still inside the bonfire.

"No!" He roared. "Things can NEVER go back to the way they were before! This is war now! Whose side are you on?" His burning gaze swept the crowd around him, searing the faces of all it touched, igniting rage and revolution. "It's time to strike back! We are slaves no more! Now, we fight or we die, and I will not die as a slave! We'll destroy them for what they've done to us! Look! Look at her! Look at the face of human Mercy!"

The crowd transformed. A ripple of fury spread through it. Some of the ghouls, newcomers, began howling for revenge, began to raise the call to arms. "Protect yourselves!"

"Open the Armoury! Grab the guns, the smoothskins are coming!"

"Slaves no more!"

"Wait, no! Fight the humans, are you insane?" It was an old town ghoul, and, ironically enough, he was holding the very assault rifle taken from the dead guard by Carson. Feluric knew the old town ghoul fairly well. He went to the man and took the assault rifle, looked around, then tossed it to Carson. Then he turned back to the old towner.

"Look at Suriel. If you don't want to fight, you'd better run. From all of us – humans or otherwise."

He stood in the square, still standing there with Suriel's body beside him, when the humans charged in looking for him. He was waiting, alone and unarmed. They were yelling questions at him. He said nothing. There were eight of them, including the guard captain, all armed with high-powered assault rifles or shotguns. The best Glowlight had to offer.

The humans moved up towards him, three hanging back closer to the edge of the square, two from the group that was headed towards him branching off to move around the square. They actually look half-disciplined this time, Feluric thought. The moment the group of three with the guard captain reached him, the three near the entrance were shot at, and all turned towards the source, then were mowed down from behind -the idiots were grouped together - by Carson. The two patrolling the square became involved in a firefight. Feluric darted forward, punching the most distracted guard, a shotgun toting woman, in the stomach. Then he pulled a grenade pin at her waist and jumped back.

The combat went on for a few more minutes. Eight more guns for the ghouls. Feluric glanced down at himself. He was amazed that he had made it out alive, much less unscathed. Apparently they hadn't thought he was any threat. A vicious smile spread across his face. "Now for Glowlight!" He roared. The mob had been moving before he'd even begun speaking. He charged with them, pulling out ahead, leading them.

Some of the houses were on fire. There was no more organized resistance. Somehow, the ghouls now had the upper hand in firepower. There was essentially no guard. Most of the humans were fleeing. Glowlight had a real square; Feluric had never seen it before. A small crowd of ghouls had gathered around a human that had been dragged out of his house. They were stoning him now. It was the Major, the human in charge of the town. Feluric moved into the crowd to watch. He was ready to hurt the man a little more personally, but had been getting a bit tired. A jeering yell rang out.

"Not Major anymore, smoothskin! Just another homeless Wastelander now!" Feluric suddenly felt as if he'd been immersed in a pool of icy water. He looked at the former Major, who was half naked. The man had somehow contrived to be fat. He looked pathetic. Feluric was chilled, but his insides still burned. He couldn't forget that oath. He forced his way through the crowd, and grabbed the human, pulling him up by his hair. He turned to the watching mob.

"Platform! Make a platform! Throw anything together, tables, chairs, refrigerators, build a platform!"

Feluric threw the human down on the uneven platform that had been constructed in the past few minutes, then turned and spoke to the gathering of ghouls, much larger than the stoning group earlier, in the flickering light of burning houses.

"This man was once titled Major of this town! He is now put on trial for crimes against all Ghouls of Glowlight!" The crowd roared. He turned back to the former Major.

"Human! You stand accused of mistreating the Ghouls of Glowlight for decades! Killing our people and throwing us into the slums and at raiders to defend you, without giving us anything in return! How do you plead?" The fat man just sat there, bruised and trembling, his mouth working without sound. Feluric turned back to the crowd.

"He pleads guilty!" The crowd roared again. There were a number of calls for execution. Feluric finally turned back to the human. "How do you defend yourself?"

This time the man could speak, albeit quietly, "T-the Creator..." Feluric turned to the crowd again.

"He cannot defend himself!" The crowed stormed and surged. "I strip you of your rank as Major! You, and all human residents of the town, are exiled! Cast out to wander the wastes as all the ghouls you have thrown out have done!" "Clear a path!" Feluric yelled to the crowd. They parted. He kicked the fat human off the makeshift stage into the opening. The man began to crawl, and then run.

"See how they flee, brethren! See how the humans run before us!" Feluric held his arms up high.

"Brethren! We are ghouls! This is the way we were meant to be! This is what we were always meant to be! We have taken back Glowlight, and Justice has been done!" the mass of ghouls roared their approval, beginning a chant.

"Major, Major, Major, Major, Major"

Years later, a small group of ghouls came to the town, saying they were humans who had once lived there, led by the former Major. They were told to see Feluric in the Major's house, who accepted them back into the community, on the condition that they abandon and exile the former Major as all other Glowlight residents had done.

Feluric took up the vacant role and position of Major of the town and along with that took up the Major's house, which was luxurious by any standards, not simply the ones of the ghoul population. Feluric hadn't wanted it, but the people had actually insisted. There was a full wardrobe of pre-war finery, which, surprisingly, fit him well. He often wore the suits, labelled "Armani" on the inside. He supposed it fit his new occupation. He also donned a hat. It all served to set him apart - he was their leader.

Some of the old town Ghouls insisted that all of them should still live in the slums; that they never should have rebelled and that now any who stayed in the town were doomed. While those few remained in the dark of the tunnels, the large majority of the ghouls stayed in Glowlight town.

Feluric received visitors now, as Major, much like the way Suriel had once met everyone who entered the slums. Most of that was pointless. Humans he barely even listened to. One of the ghouls, though, was special

"I am from the Kabec Ghoul Alliance." He had begun. "We are an Alliance of ghoul-based towns who fight against the oppression levelled against us, as well as the slavers trying to destroy us." He held out a strange sort of glove. "We've brought you a gift."

Feluric took it and tried it on, "What's this supposed to be?" Buying time as he thought about this Alliance.

"It's called a Powerfist. A strange weapon, unconventional, and largely useless, but Carson said it would be perfect for you. It's pre-war technology."

"Carson?"

"He's one of our agents. We sent him here after we learned of this isolated settlement with an active ghoul population. He tells us, though, that he was mostly ineffective, and nothing would have been accomplished without you. You do seem to give off quite the feeling of confidence, and you're clearly a hero to these ghouls."

"Did he tell you that I was easy to compliment?"

"Yes."

"Hmm. Right. Your Alliance. How big is it? What do you want with our modest settlement of 56?"