(Charon)
She is insatiable and annoying. I have never in my entire career encountered such a woman. I do not understand why my employer wishes for me to watch her every waking move, but I obey. Listening to her claim she knows me is obnoxious. Although I am sure I have never met her before, there is question in my mind.
I wonder, how it is this annoying little brat knows of Ahzrukhal. Of the errands I was forced to do for him. How does she know of Gob and Carol? Moreover, why was she so adamant on convince me that she did? The entire situation is confounding in my eyes. If I had my own personal choice, I do not believe I would opt to spent time with such a rapacious person as she. Not only is she exceedingly violent, but she is also stubborn, hotheaded, immature, unknowledgeable, and impulsive. Traits I do not wish to be around, and traits I do not admire.
However…however there is one thing. The girl, Dezbe I believe her name is, broke the silence with such an odd tale. I wished she had remained quiet, and what kind of a name is 'Dezbe', anyhow? I am sure her parents were Wasteland Junkies if not irresponsible Raiders. Aside from that, though, her story…her story was…I am not quite sure. She began to speak of a ghoul, one I have never met I am sure. His name, she claims, is Raul. She spoke of an intimate night they shared together, and something…something strange inside of me shifted. I am not sure what to make of it, but it was not enjoyable.
I am still, to my dismay, feeling it now. It creates a plunge in my stomach. The same as thinking of something you have been putting off that needs to be done, but you are not looking forward to doing. I had to excuse myself from her quarters, because I felt I could not control myself. I had the…the unexplainable urge to…to cause harm. Partially to her but partially, for some reason, to this unknown ghoul. I have never met him, not even in passing, but I find I strongly dislike him. I do not know the reasoning for this. Although it is strictly against my training to ask questions of my employer, it is not against my contract.
With a steady pace, I walk down the long corridor of Fort Independence towards my employer's office. My standing orders are to watch the girl, and I am. I have locked her in her room, with no means of escape. I have disarmed her, and a girl as small as she can not possibly break down a solid, wood door, no matter how old. There are no windows in her room, simply concrete walls and flooring. She is confined, and I am doing my duties.
Still, my employer is quite shocked to see me. I stand with my back straight, knowing I may get severe repercussions for my actions.
"Charon? What are you doing here? Where is the girl?"
There is a tone of urgency and fear in his voice. Does he not trust me? I do not know why he would not. I have done nothing distrustful of him.
"She is locked in her room, with no means of escape. I have broken apart her weapon, and taken some of the pieces with me, so that she may not place it back together."
"Well, that's good to know. But I'm still wondering why you're here."
"I would like to ask some questions, if I may."
My employer sets down a piece of paper he was reading, and looks up at me from his seat behind his desk. I watch closely as he rubs his temples. I know how to analyze people. I know there is something distressing him.
"Very well, sit."
I sit, obeying the small order as I have been trained to do.
"What do you want to ask me, Charon?"
"I would like to ask you about the girl, if I may."
"What about the girl?"
"She claims to know of me. She tells me things that no one else could know, unless I myself told them. I have no recollection of sharing some of the things she speaks of with anyone. I would like to know why and how she knows this."
My employer looks at me. He rubs his chin, before leaning back in his chair.
"Charon, you are a well-educated person, are you not?"
"My trainers did all they could to ensure I knew everything from combat to literature."
"Right, well, then you are aware of a woman's powers?"
"I do not feel I understand."
"Charon, women are…they are strange beings. In times of disparity, they will often appeal to us. They will manipulate us into doing things we would not normally do, while whispering sweet nothings in our ears. This woman, girl, is no exception. I am sure in her travels she has witnessed things, and heard tales referring to you. She is simply trying to appeal to your better nature, in order to convince you to break your contract with me, and work for her. Do you understand?"
"Yes, yes I believe. I should not take anything this woman says to me, to heart then?"
"No. She will tell you lies and deceive you in order for her to advance yourself. Do not even listen to her, if you can help it."
"I see."
"Now, return to your post until further orders are given. I do not wish for her to escape."
"She will not, under my watch."
"Well, then see to it."
I nod to my employer as I take my leave. His answer…although useful, did not supply me with what I was looking for. Perhaps it is my inability to properly express the turmoil inside of me, that creates the communication barrier between us. I do not know how, or even if I am allowed, to tell my employer of the strange feeling I have deep within myself. I was never trained to argue, either. So when I am ordered to do something grudging, as returning to this foolish girl, I must obey. Despite, that I would much rather sit in a solid room alone and swallow ten gallons of Molerat blood than spend another moment with her.
Before I unlock the door to the girl's room, I stand outside for a moment. I am not sure why, but I do. I feel myself holding my breath, and listening to her, as she speaks to the dog that blindly follows her.
"I wanted you to meet him. Like him like I used to, I guess. We'll figure something out though, Dogmeat. It's not all lost. There's still Gob. Even if Charon's gone forever, there's still Gob."
She speaks of me as if she has known me. As if she as spent time in my presence and has witnessed the same things as I. She talks of an old acquaintance of mine, Gob. I do not know of his life, so perhaps they have met. From what I hear from this girl's stories, they have, and they are close.
Without further hesitation, I unlock and open the door. I am not too thrilled about being ordered to do such a mundane job. I was not trained as a babysitter. However I was trained to obey, and that is what I am doing.
"You came back."
She says, softly. It is the first time since our encounter that she has spoken with softness in her voice. It confuses me, the tone she has.
"I am ordered to watch you."
For an odd reason, the girl gives me a sad, half-smile. Normally, from anyone else, I would not care nor ponder about it. I find I am wondering, now. Wondering why this girl, whom I have never met, is smiling at me. In response to her smile, I let out a guttural growl. I know she hears me, because she blinks, and looks away. This girl…seems complex. Before I left, she was acting like the world was hers and nothing else mattered. Now, it seems she is lost, and perhaps a bit sad. I do not know. I do not even know why I am bothering with such analytics.
"Wanna hear a story?"
She asks, in that soft voice. I do not know what to say, nor do I know what I am required to say.
"If conversation is what you wish, then I shall provide it."
I am not employed by her, but I shall treat her with respect so long as she does not try to attack me as she did in the hall. My employer told me to keep her calm, and to not anger her. He directed me to speak with her if I wished, and to keep her in this room. I do not know why he is so concerned, this girl seems more fit to be in an institution.
"…I met someone, a long time ago. I was nineteen then, when I met him. It was an accident. He was told to kill me, but he didn't. Then he worked for me. I told him to do something one day, and he didn't. We hated one another. We couldn't even stand to be in the same square mile of each other."
The girl chuckles a bit as she shakes her head, looking at the floor beneath her feet.
"Hey, you got a smoke before I keep talking?"
I do. I reach inside of my pocket, and hand her one. My employer did not say I was allowed to smoke, so I do not. I do not wish to ask, as requests for such things are not allowed in my training.
"Thanks. Anyways, after a while, me and this guy somehow…got close. I'm not sure how exactly. I mean, I know how I got attached, but him…him I'm not so sure."
"I see."
"I mean, for the first time in my life, I felt I mattered to someone. That meant a lot to me back then, and even now it does. Sure, he didn't feel the same at that point, but I didn't care. I had someone with me, to take care of me and protect me. He eventually came around, though. He started to return my feelings, and…and I liked it. He fell in love with me, I guess you could say, and kept all the bad things away."
"Hm."
She looks up at me from her spot on the bed. Her dog sleeps beside her. Smoke dances in the dim light, around her head, and out of her mouth as she exhales. I do not know what I am to say to her stupid tale.
"He told me…a while ago, that he would dream about me. That each time in the dream, I'd beg him to never leave. Each time he promised he wouldn't, but I guess I never believed him. In his dream, anyways."
"Does this tale of yours have a point or are you just simply talking?"
The look she gives me is indescribable. Her eyes are wide, her mouth a small U-shape. There is a sad smirk hidden in there, as she casually takes another drag of her cigarette.
"No, no there's no point. Just talking, I guess."
Her yawning indicates that she is tired. I do not sleep, if I do it is very little. I am hoping this girl falls asleep quickly, so that I may have some quiet. It may even perhaps allow me to close my own eyes. If she is sleeping, then there is nothing preventing me from getting my own rest. Casdin warned me that this female is clever, so perhaps letting my guard down, even slightly, is not in my best interest. I do not wish for the girl to somehow escape, and have myself fail at my objective.
She yawns again, but does not lie down. Instead, she does something…peculiar. Outstretching her arms, she closes her eyes, and moves her fingers in some sort of fluid motion.
"What are you doing?"
I ask, wondering if this is part of her trickery. The girl opens one eye, and glances at me.
"I'm playing the piano."
What? Has she gone mad? There is no piano in sight, nor have I seen one since the bombs fell. Although, her mention of the instrument does bring back memories of an employer I had before the war. He enjoyed music, and had me learn to play the piano. I must admit I felt quite foolish, playing such an odd instrument for him, but I enjoyed it. The sounds I remember it making brought me comfort, as well as a sense of peace. But this girl, this girl has no such piano. I highly doubt she does not even know where to begin looking for one. Yet, here she is, imagining herself playing it.
"There is no piano there."
I tell her, feeing stupidly obvious. The girl looks at me again, a full smirk on her face.
"I know. I'm pretending to play the piano. What else am I gonna do in this stinkin' room?"
"Perhaps you could sleep. It would do you good and allow me to get some peace and quiet."
"Hm. I don't feel like sleeping."
"You do not have many options for entertainment."
Her hands lower to her thighs, and she sighs. Carefully, she scoots her sleeping mutt over and rests her back against the wall. Her extinguished cigarette butt rests on the concrete floor beneath her bed.
"You know, Charon, you don't have to be so damn rigid."
"I am doing my job."
"Make it fun."
"No."
She gives me a coy look. As if she is up to something. I sense that she is, and mentally prepare myself for any of her tricks.
"You're just so used to working for Ahzrukhal, I guess. Standing in the corner of the Ninth Circle for so long must have really bothered you."
"You do not know what you are speaking of. I suggest you close your mouth, little girl."
My comment does not anger her. In fact, it does the opposite. She giggles at me, running her fingers through her multi-colored hair. I suspect from her sun-tanned skin, that her hair has turned such colors from the sun. It is red, a deep red, but there are bits of orange and brown within that red. When she shifts, I can see tan lines from her clothing, revealing pale skin beneath them.
"Why don't you sit down. You're supposed to keep me in here, right? Well if you don't sit down, I'll start getting rowdy."
As much as I hate to admit this, the girl has a point. Grudgingly, I sit beside her. When she moves to make room for my large body, I see a twisted scar on her torso. I do not see where it ends, or where it begins, but she notices me looking at it.
"You like war stories?"
Slowly, I nod my head. Perhaps we have found a common ground. Something I will not hate listening to, and something to keep her calm.
"Well, I got this scar in a place called The Pitt."
Yes, I have heard of The Pitt. Heard it was a land of horrible slavery and radiation. I have not been there, but I have heard stories. I watch as the girl, Dez, she lifts her shirt slightly, and pulls her pants down a bit. The scar is immense. It travels down her thigh to where I cannot see, up and around her ribcage, to the upper part of her back. The grove of it tells me it was once very deep, and I must say I am interested in it.
"What happened?"
I ask, simply curious as to how a simple human with no training and seemingly no knowledge of basic first aid could survive such an injury.
"I was fighting in this arena. This guy came up to me with an Auto Axe called the Mauler. I wasn't wearing very good armor, they didn't give me any, so I basically was in there half-naked in slave garb. He got me good, but he was my last opponent. I took him down, and then was taken away by a nice woman named Midea."
"How were you able to defeat him, if you received this injury?"
"I almost didn't. I almost bled to death right there. But I'm pretty stubborn, and I remembered someone very important waiting for me back home. So I mustered my strength, picked up my gun, and shot him when he was cheering to the crowd. If you're stubborn enough, you can survive almost anything."
Another thing I hate to admit, is that I am finding myself admiring this girl. Her will and ability to survive in this world, without any training, is humbling. I, who has been in many more fights and battles, have never received such an injury. Even if I had, I do not think I would have survived to tell of it.
"And this one…"
She slightly unbuttons the top of her Adventurer armor, and shows me her collarbone. She points to a spot, where what looks like bone is showing through.
"…Is from me picking at my skin when I was sick with Trog. Same thing with this."
She shows me her wrist, which looks exactly like mine. Her veins and muscles are exposed, and lined gently with skin around the edges.
"Trog?"
I ask, since I have never heard of such a thing.
"Almost like Feral Ghouls. Only, you run around on all fours, and eat people. Well, exactly like Feral Ghouls. 'Cept you got flesh and pointed ears and sharp claws."
"I see."
She re-buttons her top, and points to another scar on her abdomen.
"I got uhm…grazed with a bullet here a while back. And these I got in Point Lookout."
She points to a set of three diagonal scars across her left eye. It looks as if something clawed her. They are brighter than the rest of her scars, so I assume it is recent.
"I got this one when Quinn shot me by mistake."
Although she is busy showing me a deep, threatening-looking scar just near-missing her heart, my mind is not fully paying attention. She stated a person named 'Quinn' shot her. Could it be, perhaps, Quinn from Underworld?
"I know of Quinn."
I tell her, and she nods.
"Yeah I know you do. You stood by me till I woke up from this. And then took me to Rivet City when I got really sick from an infection it caused."
She says it so casually. Talking, as if I had in fact, done those things. Of course I do not believe her, since I have no recollection of this, but I play along.
"I see."
The girl picks up on my tone of voice, and covers the scar on her chest. She shakes her head, as she cranes her neck away. Then I see something. Something faded, and almost unnoticeable. It is a welt. Similar to something you receive when you burn yourself with a hot wire. Before I can stop myself, I grab her neck, and pull her closer, examining it. She does not flinch at my touch, but I can tell she is initially surprised. When she notices what I am looking at, she lets out a small, quiet chuckle.
"I'm not surprised you're curious about that one."
I let her go and look up at her. I still wish to examine the welt, but I have stepped out of my bounds.
"Why do you say that?"
I inquire, annoyed with her presence now.
"You gave it to me. At Fort Bannister. Never really did forgive yourself for it, either."
"Fort Bannister is a Talon Company base. I would never be in such a place."
"Was."
"Excuse me?"
"It was the Talon base. It's gone now. I blew it up with a few Mini Nukes a handful of years back. But yeah, you gave it to me."
"You must stop insisting that I know of you, that we have met, and that any of what you claim is true. I have never seen you before, and your lies are quite the annoyance to me."
The girl shrugs and lays down. I cannot believe I have to continue to watch her for an undisclosed amount of time. Although she seems to have the ability to survive, I do not see why Casdin will not allow me to kill her now, and be done with this.
"I'm not lying, Charon. I think that's the real annoyance right there."
She begins to drift to sleep without so much else. I remove myself from her bed and stand comfortably beside the door. The silence is welcome. Soon, all I can hear is the soft sound of her mutt's breathing, and the quiet snores of her nose. Against my will and better judgment, against my wants and desires not to, I look at the girl. I look at her, Dezbe.
Her Pip-Boy, I recognize them from the vault ads and whatnot, substitutes as a pillow. Although I can't imagine metal to be that comfortable, she seems it. Her legs are bent inwards at the knees, just slightly, as she lays with her torso facing upwards, and her face on the side. It looks like quite the uncomfortable position, but she seems at ease with it. I notice, she did not remove her shoes. This bothers me, and I can't figure why. Looking at her face, her mouth that looks like a plump line, I feel something. Her eyes are closed, and I never realized just how long her eyelashes are. She breathes softly, her small, button-nose reminds me of a child's. As if her entire face skipped out on puberty. She has a round chin, with an oval-shaped face. I find myself analyzing her. I do not like it.
Her body is long, and lanky. She is taller than most average females, possibly because she was able to grow inside of a vault. My employer de-briefed me on her before her arrival. I am around the height of six feet, four or five inches. This girl comes up to my shoulders, making her the same height as Gob. Unusual, since women out here do not grow very tall. But like I said, I suspect her growing up in the vault and having access to clean water and other such nutrients helped that.
She is also slim, but curved. It is odd to see such a skinny, perhaps petite, woman with any form of curving. But this girl, she has them. An almost nearly perfect representation of the typical 'hourglass' figure, only more realistic. Her hips show that she can bear a child, while her thighs show she is a strong runner. I suspect those aspects come from living out here. I can not imagine the vaults having the best exercising equipment.
Yet as I look at her, examining her body, and picking out points of weakness for future references, I feel that strange feeling. One of…perhaps familiarity? As if, perhaps some how, I have encountered her before. But I know that is foolish. I would have remembered someone such as she. Not because she is by any means memorable, but because she is so…abrasive. For now, I will simply shrug it off. I am keeping her company far too long, and although I cannot complain to my employer about it, I do not have to enjoy it.
