(Charon)

It is night, and I creep along the exterior walls of Mama Dolce's. Silently, I stand in the shadows, watching the ghouls who monitor the building. They wear filthy Chinese jumpsuits, dark green, as to blend in easier against the night sky. Never, would I have thought that they still existed. After the bombs fell, it never occurred to me that I may once again encounter those I was trained to fight against. From listening in on their conversations, I learned that they believe the Great War presses on. That they speak no English, and that they do in fact, have someone they are holding captor. Only referring to them as 'the American', I have no way of knowing if it is Dezbe, but chances are it is. Why they would want her confuses me, but I suppose there is a reason behind it. Or perhaps, they captured her by pure chance. In which case, they do not know the mistake they have just made.

People often believe if one does not use a language, then that language is soon forgotten. For many, that is true. However, many were not trained in the way I once was. To forget is to fail, and to fail is unacceptable. Centuries past, and I can still remember everything I was taught. It is both a gift, and a curse. At this moment, I chalk it up to being a gift, as I can clearly understand these men, and will have no problem telling them what I seek, in case of my capture.

I do not plan on getting captured. One must always, though, think of every possibility when in this situation. I am prepared for whatever may come, but instead of running in shooting like Dezbe would, I stay silent. In the facility, I scored highest in stealth training, which came as a shock to my trainers, due to my large size. I have never been able to successfully stay undercover, since Dezbe seems incapable of listening and staying within the shadows. Now, I do not have her alongside me, and can infiltrate as I wish. In addition to that, I am unsure of how many Chinese remnant soldiers there are here. It could be five, it could be twenty-five. There is no way for me to know for sure. By remaining silent, and unseen, I will be able to take them out one by one, quiet, and quick.

My garrote wire remains in my pocket, ready to be used at a second's notice. I say that, because out here moments are rare, and precious. You often do not have them. These ghouls truly believe that the Great War is still ongoing, and that the People's Republic of China is going to soon send them word on what to do next. I cannot imagine being so stuck in their ways, that they still believe something as inane as that. And yet, I too, was like them. These men must be highly trained, to be sent to America in a time of nuclear warfare, and remain undercover. I suspect perhaps they were trained in a similar matter to myself. In which case, I must proceed with extreme caution, though I know I am unmatched. My height alone grants me the upper hand, but I am on their turf. I do not know their numbers. I do not know if they are expecting me, or if they simply believe they caught a stray Wastelander. These men are without emotion, something that could possibly hinder my mission, if it is in fact Dezbe they have. They could use her as leverage against me, and unlike them, I would have to obey. They are without emotions, and do not care for the life of an American. I must waste no more time.

As I watch from behind an old truck, I notice in the loading yard a lone guard. His two companions went back inside, as to rest up until their next shift. The center of the court is lit by the moon. If you have never lived in the Capital Wasteland, then you do not understand how bright it can be. My only hope at keeping to the shadows, is to remain against the brick wall. Silently, I make sure to not step on loose dirt, as I quickly make my way to the outer wall that lines the loading yard. Leaving my pack behind, since it was too heavy and would cause unnecessary weight, I have kept with me only what I need. Three frag grenades clipped to my belt, my own gun, combat knife, and wire. There was no more room on my person for Dezbe's gun, and if it is not her they have, I did not want to risk the extra noise.

Slowly, I creep closer and closer to the guard. He seems to suspect something, and before he can shine a light in my area, I pull myself up a rusty pipe. The soldier shines his light right where I was standing. It proves my hypothesis that these men were trained as I was, as I crouch atop the pipe, making no noise and keeping my breathing steady. They may be trained in similar ways, but I have endured far more than they have. I have excelled at everything my trainers threw at me. I was the best of the best, and I have learned how to live without the brainwashing. That, will hopefully be an advantage to me, and not my downfall.

As the soldier clicks his light off, I decide to not use the ground any longer. Instead I follow the pipes towards him, using a monkey-crawl across the pipes that lead towards the roof. It brings me just above him, and I time my fall just right. He marches back and forth, in a trained and rhythmic way. Just as he goes to walk right below me, I take my garrote wire from my pocket, and let go of the pipe.

I land on him, my knee to his back, so that I may fall with displaced weight instead of risking breaking my ankles. Before he can scream for help, I wrap my double-looped garrote wire over his neck. As he tries to loosen one loop, it tightens the other. Pulling it tightly, I make sure his death is silent, and swift. I cannot risk being spotted by anyone else.

In the facility, they requested we take the identity of our enemy. However, they did not account for my unusual height and weight. These uniforms would not fit me, nor would I blend in with the short-stature ghouls. Instead, I drag the soldier's body into the shadows. With my ear against the door, I listen for any sounds on the other side. When I deem it silent, I open the door quickly, and rush in. Opening a door slowly leaves too much room for noise, and a window to be spotted. We were taught to be swift and silent. Leave no trace, and walk softly. It is not hard for me to find a shadowy place within the factory, as catwalks and machines provide ample shadows and cover. I walk into a large, open room. There are two adjoining wings both to my left, and right. But right now, this seems to be the most populated. Five of them walk along, talking, and asking about fellow soldiers, and if they have heard from the People's Republic of China.

Before I can assess the situation further, I hear a noise behind me, and quickly turn around. Movement in the shadow tells me I am not alone, and I clutch my wire in my hand tightly.

"Here! An intruder!"

The soldier yells in Chinese, before I grab him. He blew my cover, slightly. I have time to hide elsewhere, while the other soldiers make their way towards me. Without wasting time with the garrote wire, I take hold of my enemy's head, and snap his neck. What's so easy about that, is they are perhaps half my size. The Chinese were never known for their height, anyways. Small men, have small bones. Small bones are easy to snap, when one knows how.

As his fellow soldiers creep towards, I take cover beneath one of the machines. It is difficult to fit my large body under a machine made for someone the size of Dizzy when she was fourteen, but I adapt and manage. I watch, as their feet pace back and forth in front of me, asking one another where their comrade is. I look at his dead body beside me, as I reach into my boot. Their uniforms are old, and unkempt. They are old and worn with time, and with no knowledge to repair them, I doubt the fabric and leather will prove a challenge to my combat knife.

Patiently, I wait until there is only one set of feet remaining. Only one solider left in this area, while the rest scour the plant. Reaching out, I grab his ankles, and slice the Achilles'. Blood seeps onto the concrete floor, making it easier to slide from beneath the machine. The Chinese soldier knows better than to risk his other men, and scream. He looks at me, with defiant eyes, telling me that he will never surrender. Bending down, I press my knife to his neck. The Chinese may never surrender, but I am not asking him to. He is going to die either way.

"Where is the American?"

I hiss to him, and see his eyes widen, as he realizes I can speak, and understand, his native tongue.

"What importance is it to you?"

If they believe the war is still ongoing, than I will not burst their small party.

"The Pentad Strike Team demands the American's location."

It is a name that I have not spoken in over two-hundred years. A name not even Dezbe herself knows. A name, that I have refused to speak, in fear of giving it life once more. The name of the facility that trained me. The Pentad Strike Team, a team of five men, trained in the most brutal ways, within the walls and underground of the Pentagon, to become the contract mercenaries that the Capital Wasteland is so familiar with. Only five, because in my class of over two-hundred, five of us remained by the end. Together, we infiltrated Anchorage. Together, we were specialized in different areas. We were unstoppable, and China had a fear towards us that was comparable to none. I see still, as I look into the soldier's eyes, that the Pentad Strike force still terrifies and dominates their life.

"I will not speak to the likes of you!"

I narrow my eyes at him, knowing time is against me.

"Then you shall die a death worse than a dog's."

It is brutal, but I do not care. I slice his throat, and break his knees and hands. He cannot move, nor can he cry for help. I place him beneath the machine, watching him for a moment, as he waits and struggles for death. His life runs through his fingers like sand, and he knows, this is the end of a three-hundred year war. He cannot cry for help, and he does not understand why the American is so important to the now-dead Pentad Strike Team. Bending down, I whisper in his ear.

"That American, is my wife."

His eyes widen, and it tells me that they do, in fact, have Dezbe. Had they not captured a woman, he would not have looked at me with such knowing fear. A knowing fear that they took one of the most feared and respected secret military operation's wife. Though I am now the last, it does not matter. They fear me just the same, and fear me they should.

Walking away from the machine, I continue to stay hidden. Above me, a soldier spots the blood leaking from beneath the machine. I purposely left him there. As a sign, to all in the factory. To those I can see, and those I cannot. It tells them I am here, and I will kill them all if I must. Without hesitation. Noise of rushing footsteps fills my ears, as I duck behind barrels of unknown material. The soldiers, five of them, head towards their fallen comrade. I have killed three, and will decimate any others who stand in my way, or withhold information.

Quietly, as they argue and try to make a plan, I creep around them. Most of them seem to come from the second floor, and where there are dense numbers of soldiers, there is something to protect. Something to guard, and keep an eye on. I can only assume, Dezbe is held up there. Somewhere, where she may not be able to notice that I have arrived, or she would be fighting as well. If any harm has come to her, I will use their own tortures against them. Wooden splinters beneath their nails, waterboarding, standing atop a thin rail, with only a noose around their neck. Anything I can think of, anything I was trained to resist under, they will fall victim to. They took my wife, and held her here for a month. They kidnapped her from the safety of Megaton, and I will make sure, that they can slowly see their own life leaving them. As if they watch an hour glass. I will implement every form of inhumane torture I can remember, and even more than that.

I cannot reach the second floor without being spotted. My anger and determination has now reached critical levels, as I think of the horrors they may have put Dezbe through. Taking my gun from my back, I now prepare for an all-out assault. With most of them seemingly at the machine, I make my way to the staircase that will lead me upwards. The noise from my movements catches their attention, and the soldiers aim their guns at me.

"American!"

They hiss and yell. Unclipping a grenade from my waist, I pull the pin and toss it down beside them. Knowing what I have tossed, the soldiers scatter, but some are caught in the explosion. As I continue upwards, I hear the cries and screams of their pain echoing through the facility. For a moment, I think I am free. I think I can reach the floor which Dezbe is held on, and get to her without further bloodshed. But I am wrong.

"Stop!"

I come face-to-face with a Chinese captain. His uniform and decorations give away his title, as I raise my gun to him.

"Where is the American woman?"

I ask him in Chinese, pushing the barrel of my gun closer to him. He does not seem afraid, and raises his hand. Signaling to hidden soldiers, they listen to their captain, and I am surrounded. Outnumbered, I make the quick decision to drop my weapon. But I am not going to surrender. I am outnumbered, but not outwitted.

"What does one lone American matter, to the Pentad Strike Team?"

He recognizes my armor. Looking around subtly, I see there is a small window of escape, and behind the captain, a door. Steel, rusted, and thick. There is a hole carved into it. It is a cell. That, must be where they are keeping Dezbe.

"That is none of your concern. Release the woman, and we shall have no further disputes."

The captain knows he cannot talk with his soldiers, since I can speak his language. He wishes to, I can see by the look in his eye. He wishes to know what business I have with Dez. But letting him know her relation to me will only put her in further danger, and harm.

"What business does she have with the Strike Team?"

He demands again, his voice growing louder. Tired of this pointless and pathetic interrogation, I see that window of escape, and take it. Snatching the gun from the soldier to my left, I effortlessly tear it from my hands, and bludgeon the others to the ground. As the captain fumbles for his pistol, I toss him to the ground, and march towards the door. Throwing it open, I see a small room, with no windows, and thick concrete walls. In the corner, Dezbe hisses as the artificial light stings her eyes.

"Dezbe…"

I say, noticing quickly her starved appearance. With her eyes closed tightly, she reaches towards me, hands spread.

"Charon…? Charon is that you, or am I dead?"

"No, no it is me. Quickly, we must…"

Before I can utter another word, I feel the tearing sensation of a bullet. Looking down, there is a large exit wound on my stomach, as blood begins to seep out. Behind me, laughter from the Chinese captain, as he pushes me to my knees, and slams the door behind me.