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Chapter 2: Charon

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Pocks filled with stagnant brown water seethed with radiation. While 101 avoided them, he trudged through. The warmth made his legs stop aching briefly. Armored boots were heavy, had soles like battleship plating and made his joints spazz. He wished the more flexible ceramic plate boots that 101 sported came in his size. He'd move faster, though they were making good time for a change despite the terrain. Maybe testament to 101 knowing her limits. She needed a break for a few days. Maybe a week. Whether it was at Ranger HQ or at her home didn't make much difference to Charon.

He put his mind back on the landscape.

This whole nameless area was torn up like a giant hand had reached down from the sky and scraped the earth. He supposed you could call the nukes the hand of God, if you were crazy like those Church of Atom retards. Constantly trying to touch him and blessing him, "glorious Son of Atom" while the rest of the town gave him looks that said he was garbage. A freak. He tolerated the bullshit because his employer lived in Megaton. It didn't mean he had to like it. Especially that Jericho character who made lewd comments under his breath and shot him the finger when she wasn't looking. Sometimes Charon tortured 101 over it, made her squirm and flash those sad, angry eyes at him. He ground his teeth together. He knew it was wrong, felt repulsed by it every time his mouth formed the words, but what recourse did he have other than his employer's conscience? She wouldn't give him permission to kill the wretched waste of skin.

Traveling rough meant they missed a lot of the Raiders on the paved roads. Normally he'd have complained at the lack of targets, but 101 wasn't at fighting fit. As much as it was his duty to protect her from harm, that was easier if she could help. To be honest, he had gotten out of shape in the Ninth Circle and sometimes it came back to bite him in the ass. It had certainly showed early in his employ to 101. Chasing her through the tech museum had gotten him knocked out by an automatic door, of all things. Not his finest moment. The constant activity at his employer's side had changed that. He felt tight again, almost like new, and his reflexes were catching up to where they'd been before his contract had been sold to Ahzrukhal.

When they came upon a ridge made of rocks and smashed slabs of concrete protecting a small valley ...over the side of a boulder 101 went. His employer scrambled over rockfalls and junk like a spider. Jesus. At least she trusted him to meet her at the bottom. It was something to watch but Charon preferred not to overtax himself if there were an easier way around an obstacle. Especially not in this power gear. To do anything else would be a waste of energy in his book.

101 was too direct for that.

While foolish when taken by itself, the quality was something he appreciated. A person could talk until they were hoarse -- hell, his current employer lied to people at the drop of a hat if it suited her purposes-- but their actions couldn't hide what they were about. Hers spoke of gravity. Duty. Not just to some kind of high-minded bullshit like the Brotherhood, but to people. All people. Even ghouls. Even him. It was novel.

Ahzrukhal had behaved towards him as if he were somewhere between a prized piece of furniture and a deadly toy. As if he didn't have a mind to understand the evil wrought around him or the will to care. Any ghoul that left Underworld was target for the bastard's contacts in Paradise Falls. He hadn't even attempted to hide the transactions from Charon. Just grinned that shit-eating grin of his and counted his blood money. Perhaps he forgot the bounds of the contract. Charon was glad, if so. It had been satisfying to make him pay with interest. He'd left the Underworld to believe their missing had gone feral. They suffered in that shame and fear too long. The people he tricked into using the 'mercenary service' Ahzrukhal offered to guide them across the wastes deserved their retribution.

The saloon owner, 101's friend. Carol's boy. He deserved it.

One of the first things Charon had done in Megaton, upon having a moment alone with Gob, was inform him that Ahzrukhal had paid for his crimes. Perhaps he'd been a bit stiff with the delivery but it needed to be said. He also needed to distance himself from that sick fuck and his lust for caps. Despite Gob's obvious shock, he'd dropped a half bottle of gin, it made Charon feel clean. He'd nodded and taken his leave after 101. Like her, he didn't need payment or thanks.

He couldn't pinpoint another employer that had acted quite like 101. Not all of them had been assholes, but a few of them had met their ends with a shotgun blast or a combat knife in the dark. It was just a matter of being free enough to reward them for their behavior. 101, by comparison, managed to act like a human being, asked for very little and met him halfway on most everything else. Sure, she had this naïve complex about freeing him that seemed to lurk just under the surface but he wasn't offended by the urge. It just didn't spawn a whole lot of hope. The task would require considerably more effort than finding her douche father and smoothskins got distracted too easily. Once 101 figured out how serious it was-- and she would, the nosy bitch-- she'd settle down about it. She wouldn't even have to ask him, just poke around the Wasteland until the information came toddling out to her like some lost kid.

Still, when her mind changed and she wanted to sell his contract, she'd have little to fear.

Something prickled along his back as he rejoined her, crouching at her side. "Be careful..."

She looked back to him. In the shadows and through the lenses on the helmet, 101 was a green outline and gray smudges. "What?"

"Something's not right. Feels..." He glanced around, using the armor's scanners as well as his own innate sense for danger. "Feels like we're being watched." The HUD revealed large shapes. They were slow and the bobbing looked like grazing to him.

101 frowned deeply. "...Maybe we are." Her perception wasn't as clear as his but she closed her eyes briefly as if feeling with her mind or listening intently. Everyone's sense for danger was unique. He felt it up and down his back like a physical thing, barbs digging into his spine. After twisting her lips, she opened her eyes and fiddled with the dials on her Pip-boy. She leaned over and bent her arm so he could see the dim display. It revealed only brahmin. He didn't like it. Something was wrong.

"We should wait." He offered. A beast would soon get tired and move on if the prey wasn't interesting. A man would get frustrated at waiting and show himself eventually. A bot would just keep coming and they'd know soon enough...

Her frown didn't lift but she nodded. Reaching slowly for her pack, she pulled the sniper rifle out of the cache. After assembling it, she scanned the surrounding hills with the scope. "I still don't see anything. You wanna try?" She held the gun loosely so it could be taken.

He nodded. The rifle fit easily in his hands. It was intimate, familiar in a way some of the weapons he often found himself using weren't. He'd always been curious as to why.

Pain lanced across his mind for a second as he wondered, causing a spastic blink.

Tesla.

The word came unbidden to the surface of his mind.

Tesla.

He blinked again.

Fuck.

The answer wasn't coming tonight either. There was just a void and a flash of muddled images that tasted metallic-sweet to his memory and warned him if he tried again, there would be pain. Not that it hadn't been helpful in the past. The ability to blank out at a word, or fly into a rage, was useful. Had been his entire life, least what of it he remembered. Fucking words.

"Something wrong with the scope?"

Charon grimaced behind the helm's faceplate."No."

Peering at him behind her goggles, his employer's expression was midway between concern and curiosity. Still, she didn't ask. Good. Discussions were tedious. Words again. Meaningless shit things for the most part. More often than not they wasted time.

Charon raised the rifle again and scanned the rocky scrub and smashed highway. Eventually his scope drifted into the hills, letting his instinct guide the direction he faced. A muzzle glinted in the faint starlight and he felt his lips curl back in a savage smile. Just as the mighty head raised and the huge animal lurched to claim a brahmin, he squeezed off a shot. It was beautiful. The bullet slid though the air like it was specially greased for the purpose of burying itself in the yao gui's skull. "Howya like that? Huh?" He muttered as he watch the huge animal fall.

101 whistled appreciatively. "Think the cows mind if we get yao gui to go?"

Cows? Oh. Brahmin. Yeah, 101's vocabulary was strictly pre-war at times. Antique. "Nah."

Yao gui was fatty as hell, you had to chew it like gum in some cases, but it didn't taste bad if you charred it a little and ate it hot. Better than eating those insta-meal salisbury steaks. The chemical cooking process still worked when you opened the sealed packets but... eh. They tasted like salted shoe-leather. Charon slung the rifle across his back, which now felt comfortably unbothered, and led 101 over to the giant animal with a certain amount of stealth. The brahmin were uneasy but didn't associate them with the loud noise. They simply looked on with wide, trusting dark eyes. That was fine by Charon. Being trampled by livestock wasn't in his top ten ways to die.

101 eased her pack to the ground to remove a sheet she used for wrapping meat they collected. Some people butchered a kill without thinking. 101 had some art to it. Probably because her dad was a doctor, scientist, whatever. Didn't matter. It was just a good thing she was handy, even if she couldn't cook worth shit. Charon handed her his knife and watched idly as she peeled back skin and scraped away fat to get at the flesh.

One of the brahmin snorted and stomped its heavy hooves. The noise drew Charon's attention. Both heads nostrils were wide, as if smelling something disturbing. It was staring into his helmet's lenses like it was trying to communicate.

"Settle down." He grumbled. "It's just blood. Be glad it isn't yours."

Look at him, talking to fucking animals. He thought he'd lost it when he caved and threw the ball for 101's dog. It had stared him into it, even when he told it to get lost, searching his face and reaching out with one paw on his leg as if to say 'please'. Manipulative little monster. Now the damned dog did it every time he sat down.

That smart-looking brahmin was still staring.

Charon's back prickled.

Yeah, he might be insane but he was going to take this seriously. Keeping 101 within arm's reach, he scanned the surrounding area. Every dark shadow in the rocks and fallen concrete had the potential to hide an enemy. Still his armor registered nothing but the cattle. It didn't add up and that brahmin certainly wasn't paying attention to him because he was more interesting than stuffing itself with scrubgrass. Uneasy, he tuned into the Outcast comm channel. If some of them were in the area, the armor would pick up chatter and relay it to the speaker in the helmet. Maybe they were in a firefight nearby and he just didn't hear it. Not much came through. Squawks and growlback, mostly. He wasn't close enough to a patrol for full reception.

A bullet pinging off a nearby rock caused him to drop.

Smart brahmin turned, picking up speed as it loped away. Taking the hint, the rest of the herd scattered. It caused a significant cover loss.

Shit.

"The fuck was that?" 101's exclamation was followed by a scramble for her own shotgun.

"Looks like we got company."

"Ya think?" 101 grouched.

He sprang up at a good clip, attempting to circle around where the bullet came from. A hail of gunfire hit his former position, mutilating the predator's corpse and causing 101 to plant herself face down in the dirt. Charon felt for a grenade on his belt. Good. He took it in hand.

"Heads up, assholes!" He shouted to draw attention, pulling the pin and tossing the frag in the approximate location of the shooters.

The explosion lit up the darkness with a plume of fire and caused a rain of splintered rock. In its wake he heard a few cries of pain. Angry snarls. Raiders. They'd probably been after the brahmin and hadn't even noticed them until he'd tagged the yao gui. It was a lesson in overconfidence. He should have let the beast take its meal and waited to see if that was the danger he'd sensed. Cursing himself, he charged their position and peppered the rockfall with shotgun fire.

"Fuckin Outcast cocksucker. Think you're so much better than the rest of us..." One man bellowed, raising a sledgehammer. Charon slammed the stock of his weapon into the Raider's nose, causing him to overbalance and crash into the jagged stone below, and fired on his buddy-- the one he'd blocked from shooting by playing John Henry. The kid with the assault rifle was gifted with a shiny new hole where his dick should be. Charon followed it with one to the face out of mercy.

He was thankful what Raiders knew about tactics could fit in a fucking teacup.

"Get the bastard!"

It's what the next casualty had tried to scream anyway. It was hard to do when her head was pulped mid-sentence. The big ghoul grinned behind his faceplate, taunting the others that hung back and tried to decide if they should fight him or run. "Whatsa matter? Can't stand the sight of your own blood?"

"Charon!"

It was a cry that caused him to pause, turn his head, because he hadn't figured on there being two threats. The bullets had only come from one direction. They'd only come from one fucking direction!

101 was trading punches with one of those bastards.

Where'd her piece go?

His employer's head snapped back like one of those nodder things she collected.

Rage boiled, his muscles burned and the thread of mercy he possessed snapped. Limbs exploded into spray made gray-green by the night and the filters in his helmet. Men and women screamed. Faces flashed before him. Weapons he swatted aside like bugs. His feet slid in the mess. He found himself laughing as the Raiders became so much hamburger splattering his armor. The sound bubbled up from the darkness where the Words reigned and echoed in his chest. Even though he could watch himself kill under their influence, he wasn't really participating. Even though a part of him screamed that he wanted those Raiders dead, he was so detached that it stirred him as much as taking a dump might. It was slaughter. It was good. Why should he bother to fight it?

The space between him and the last Raider was crossed almost in a blur. 101 had ventilated several before this fuck had beaten her down. He stepped on the dead as he passed, felt their skeletons snap under his boots. They counted four.

As he got closer time stretched out. Or it... slowed down. Charon saw she was at at her pack, yanking at the buckles and trying to get a weapon- any weapon. One goggle lens was a starburst. It flashed in the light of her Pip-boy as fury drove her on through the blows her assailant rained on her head and shoulders. The uneven white moon carved on her forehead was wrinkled by the intensity of her expression. One leg bent at a strange angle at the knee when the scum brought his foot down on it. She screamed. It was a distorted, horrible wail he almost didn't recognize as his name. That was followed by vomit.

The Raider was preparing to break the other leg but the Words rushed towards the big ghoul in a maelstrom of black and white. They demanded he obey and the rest was gone in a blast of static. Thunder crashed in his head and a growl worthy of a feral was torn from his throat.

Charon obeyed.

He registered using his shotgun as a bludgeon with vague acceptance. When it slipped from his slick hands, they took up his grisly work.

Thunder gradually transformed into the frantic thump of his heartbeat. The burning heat in his muscles fled. Charon came back to himself. By the tension in his legs and the press of uneven ground beneath them, he was kneeling. Sitting really, on his heels, and having a hard time catching his breath. The lenses on his helmet were obscured. His limbs were like jelly and performed about as well. He couldn't even wipe the muck off to see. There was no way to tell how far he'd gone in his frenzy... or what he'd done. He was trying to gulp in air but couldn't seem to get enough.

Charon wheezed.

Goddamn this smothering piece of shit. He was going to suffocate if he didn't get his helmet off. With supreme effort born of desperation, he ripped the helm from its catches and threw it. He didn't care where it went as long as it was gone.

That was better.

Blinking, he waited for his eyes to adjust. Once they had, and objects took on recognizable forms, he looked around.

Where had 101 gone?

He couldn't have harmed her. No. The contract forbid it. Not even he could go so crazy as to breach the contract. Charon should know. He'd tried to do it on purpose to a past employer.

She didn't run did she?

A bump at his left hand, as he tried to rise, made him stop cold.

101 stared up from beside him. Her battered face was coated with blood and she sprawled in the lumpy puddle made of shredded organs, splintered bone and gobbets of flesh that surrounded them both. Puke and gore spattered her Ranger's green. For a single terrifying moment, he thought she was dead.

Too slow. He'd been too slow. He'd failed.

Charon's throat threatened to close completely and he could feel the air being squeezed out of his chest.

The penalty for failure was...

She blinked behind her filth streaked goggles before her trembling fingers reached to pull them up. "...wow..."

Alive.

No alarm colored 101's features, only something that looked like reverence through the bruises. Quick as lightning it changed to joy. Her hands slipped in the remains of the dead Raider when she tried to get a firm grip on the earth. Whimpers marked her movements as she pushed herself into a sit, her knee still out of the socket.

Breath rushed into his lungs and he coughed at the sting.

Her hands gripped his shoulders. "That was amazing." She shook him as if for emphasis. "Fucking amazing!"

The cough turned into a laugh. A smile dusted his face despite his body complaining loudly about what it had just gone through. Charon flicked a piece of bone off her cheek with a gloved finger. "Got your caps worth, huh?" He jibed.

God, he was tired.