Player Name was lost. The GPS was of little help as it didn't take into account the many roads blocked by rubble, and he was constantly having to change direction to avoid the many super mutant outposts which infested the area.

As he came to the same place for the third time, Player Name gave a huff of resignation and sat down to light a cigarette. He had taken up smoking following the jet incident outside Megaton, and while it wasn't the healthiest thing to do, at least he no longer suffered from video-game character-induced hallucinations.

He blew a plume, and watched it fade into the drab greyness of the ruined city. He wished he were back in the vault, with his father, away from this horrendous place. If this was civilisation then he didn't want any part of it.

He saw movement, and immediately sprang to his feet. A woman, carrying a rifle, was sauntering towards him. "Don't panic," she said. "I'm not going to kill you, probably."

Her voice was thin and raspy, and she looked horrific. She literally looked like a walking corpse; her skin was rotting, giving her a zombie-like appearance.

"Ouch, that looks painful," said Player Name. "I've got some eczema cream if that'll help."

"I haven't got eczema," she said irritably. "You never seen a ghoul before?"

"No," said Player Name. "So you're a ghoul?"

"No," said the woman. "I just asked because I was curious. Of course I'm a ghoul. And I can see from your suit that you're fresh out a vault. Take my advise, wise up quickly before someone takes advantage. And mark my words, someone will take advantage."

"So where do ghouls come from?"

"We come from the depths of hell, and we're here to eat the brains of all smoothskins like you. In case you haven't wised up yet, that was a joke. When the bombs fell, not all of us had the luxury of finding shelter in a vault. So after the bombs fell, we took the full brunt of the fallout. Not all of us had the good fortune to die though, some of us survived and were forced to live on as the radiation slowly rotted our bodies. We became the living dead."

"Wow, that sucks," said Player Name.

"Yes it does."

"So wait, are you telling me you were alive when the bombs fell?"

"No, although there are some who were. You see, ghoulification has the side-effect of extending our life-span, some of us are nearly two hundred years old. Of course, by that time the radiation has rotted their brains to the point where they're no longer capable of reason. They've gone feral, if you like. Watch out for them, they'll likely try to kill you on sight.

"As for me, I was once like you, pretty and vain. The radiation still persists, and slowly turns us into monsters, although it only seems to affect some people. Pray it never happens to you. "

"Yikes."

"My thoughts exactly. So what brings you to this part of town? Are you having suicidal thoughts?"

"No, I'm lost."

"I see."

"Can you help me?"

"Probably not. I haven't left Underworld for many, many years now."

"Underworld?"

"Yes, Underworld. It's a city of ghouls in the old Museum of History. She pointed to a majestic- looking ruin. "In there. By the way, the name's Willow. I'm a sentry. I keep watch for hostiles."

"Pleased to meet you Willow," said Player Name, and offered Willow his hand. She shook it, and Player Name took a moment to discreetly wipe flakes of dead skin and pus from his hand before continuing.

"So, can I get a drink there?"

"I would imagine you can."