Charon kept being reminded that Leah was just born luckier than most.

They had decided to set up camp in what they had originally thought was one of the old storage closets in the maintenance accessways. She pointed towards the door and had picked the lock with her usual kinesthetic ease. They had found themselves in a break room that appeared undisturbed for years.

An old radio rested against one of the desks, while a lumpy old sofa was slowly rotting against the wall. Leah took her pack off and let it fall to the ground, sighing and stretching her back. She went to fetch a toothbrush, her towel, and a bar of soap.

A bathroom adjacent looked surprisingly functional. He heard the sound of steady water and watched Leah play with the faucet. She touched the water and withdrew her hand as though she had burned herself. The click of her wrist's Geiger counter explained her flinch. She went back to the bag to retrieve a bottle of pills.

He narrowed his eyes but relaxed when he saw the familiar Rad-X printed on the label. She had caught his glower and stared back at him.

"Got something to say?" She sounded irritable. He knew it was likely from her not sleeping or eating. And just her having a generally stressful day compared to her usual lounging and cake eating back in her Megaton domain.

"No."

She didn't respond after this, instead, crushing two Rad-X pills with her teeth and digging into her bag for her washcloth. "I'm going to freshen up. Do you need to use the toilet?"

"I can hold it."

She paused at this, then shook her head. "Fine. I'll be quick." She went into the bathroom and shut the door.

He proceeded to take his backpack off too, the contents landing onto the floor with a satisfying thud. He felt unsure of what to do with himself. Looking around, he decided he would examine the area, in case there was a landmine they had missed or some hostile nearby. The room they were camping in seemed to be a prewar breakroom for maintenance workers. Desks with terminals, a kitchenette, and plenty of seating showed thick layers of dust and grime coating their surfaces. There were two adjacent rooms, the bathroom, and another room which turned out to be nothing more than a walk-in closet with a mattress on the floor. He was wondering how and why a mattress was there when he heard the bathroom door open.

It was dark in the room, the electrical lighting long disconnected. He decided to make a small fire in the waste bin, looking for what he could burn. He scrounged some old pieces of cardboard and a spare wooden chair leg, letting the flames gently lick up the fuel and bring some light in the darkness. He heard the bathroom door creak open.

She had taken her armor off, walking out in nothing but her barest underclothes. He felt paralyzed and trapped, his eyes incapable of pulling away from seeing her creamy legs that stretched long and pleasingly.

"All yours," She was letting her hair down, the thick curls falling down over her shoulder. The day had been hot and humid, her dark mane frizzing out a symptom of the weather. She raised an eyebrow. "You okay?"

"Yeah." He collected himself and turned from the fire. "There's a mattress in that room if you want to sleep on something with some padding."

She sighed with a content beam. "Wonderful. Do you think we need to set up a watch?"

"Don't worry about it. I've got it. Get some sleep. Keep your gun on you, though." He nodded to her pistol, which she had dropped on the floor disrespectfully. "I'll set defenses around our perimeter. So don't go walking out of here without telling me unless you want to risk stepping on a mine."

Sheepish, she picked it up. "Thanks, Charon. Wake me if you need me." And she disappeared behind the closed door.

Charon knew it was unlikely they would run into trouble there, but he didn't like to take chances. He dug out of his pack some frag mines and went back out to leave them a healthy distance from their nest. He stepped over rail tracks and placed the mines strategically out of sight but within footfall distance in case they had any uninvited guests.

When he returned, he closed the door and turned the bolt. For good measure, he took the nearest desk and drug it against the door, barricading them in there. Finally feeling safe, he almost compared the feeling like he was back in Megaton. Besides Wadsworth's absent sass, the place gave a sheltering sense of security he hadn't realized he missed in Leah's laboratory-house.

He began to take his combat armor off, allowing his remaining skin to breathe. His sweaty chest and back practically gasped in relief as a chill ran its fingers up his spine. He had been moving for over twenty-four hours, his back tight and his joints aching. Gathering his towel, he went to the bathroom, the room inky inside. The sink had a mirror that was intact, something he hadn't come across in years.

He knew it was a bad idea to look. But the dim lighting at his back made him want to take a peak. Curiosity to assess the latest damage. He looked at himself, examining the face that he barely recognized anymore. His teal eyes had faded into a chalky haze. His red hair was almost gone, tufts of hair asymmetrically patched with the top of his head exposed. Most of the skin on his face was gone, his cheeks and mouth just raw muscle and sinew. He had the urge to ram his fist through the reflection. Instead, he unclenched his fist and opened the faucet valve.

He splashed the cool water onto his face and pulled his shirt off. The ghoul went to grab the bar of soap resting at the sink, the lye bubbling as he scrubbed the dirt off his hands and face.

"Charon."

Her soft voice made him look into the mirror. She was back in the main room, leaning against the nearest desk that was by the open doorway, sleepy eyes in the reflection. He could see her bare feet all the way up to just below her hips, her calves and thighs round and shapely. He almost hated the cloth for blocking the rest of the view. Almost.

She had her arms crossed across her chest, her braless chest calling to his eyes to admire. He could see her nipples poking through the thin fabric. Leah, if you keep doing this to me, I don't know what I'm going to do. He wiped his face with his towel, waiting for her to tell him what she needed. He looked down at the sink and held himself upright. Whatever this was, he was barely holding himself in control. "Yes?"

She bit her lip, eyes squinting as if she was thinking hard and it was hurting her. "I order you to tell me the truth. Do you like me?"

He turned to her, the words a mantra in his ears. I order you to... "What?"

She was curling a strand of her hair, eyes half-lidded. She's delirious from lack of sleep. Her mouth looked full and needy. Cupid's bow, poised to strike.

She stood up and walked up to him. Intent sparked in her eyes. She bit her lower lip, white teeth on rosy flesh. "I want you. I've wanted you for a while. And I'm tired of not knowing. So... what do you want? Do you want me?" She held out her hand and bravely ran it down his bare chest, eyes locked onto his face as she searched for something. Her cool hands on his burning stomach were like pouring gasoline over embers he thought had gone cold long ago. He felt his entire body grow hot with need. She stopped just below his navel, pausing as she raised an eyebrow. "Or should I stop? I'm not going to force you. For now." She revealed her teeth, canines bared animalistically. "But I need to know if this may turn out to be something or if I should get over this crush I'm having for you and move on. So tell me. The truth."

He put his hands on each bony shoulder. She felt so soft. Her shoulders were like caressing satin. His scarred and peeling hands looked horrifying against her porcelain skin, swallowing up most of her under their bulky and hideous shape, reminding him of what he was. She was complete. Whole. He was not. She didn't deserve a monster like him. But the familiar sting in his skull reminded him that he had an order to follow. He took in a deep breath. "How can I not? You're beautiful. Kind. I think there are many men out there who want you. Better men. Smoothskins that will make you happy. I'm not your guy."

"Why not?" She put both hands onto his pectorals, fingerpads pressing gently into his muscles. She massaged him and continued to feel his body. It was as though she really enjoyed touching him. "I don't want the men out there. I want the one in here." She took his arms and pulled at him. He let her guide him in.

Her pupils were huge. If he hadn't watched her so closely, he would have thought she was jetting. But her hands were steady. Her chest was rising and lowering fast, but not chem-induced fast. He found himself staring primally at her lower neck and the tops of her breasts peeking out from her tank top. She spun him and pushed him onto the dusty couch, the clouds rising around them as she sat onto his lap, straddling him.

He felt drunk when she pressed her lips onto his, her kisses gentle and sweet. Needy. Hypnotized, he relinquished his self-control. He grabbed each butt cheek firmly in each hand, squeezing and pulling her closer to him. She was grinding against his crotch, making his pants tighter and his loins throbbed, demanding more.

She took her top off, revealing her swelling breasts, goosebumped from the sudden exposure. He hungrily began kissing her skin, suckling a nipple while moving a hand to squeeze and feel and enjoy the firm cushioning of her womanly flesh. He was in paradise.

She pulled away, his heart sinking briefly until she began to work on his pants with a clumsy inexperience that made him take pause. "Are you sure you want this, Leah?"

She looked up, face flushed, and surprise making an o on her swollen lips. Eyes smoldering with lust. "Oh, I'm sure. I'm very sure." She undid the buttons and zipper, pulling with a laughable eagerness and failure that he found endearing. He went to his feet and began pulling his pants off, blissed from her impatient pouting. When he did he carefully watched her face, expecting her to reveal regret. Everything was still there. Everything still worked. But he was a ghoul. Skin was a luxury item that most of his body couldn't afford any longer. He was waiting for her to turn from him, repulsed and disgusted.

"Huh." She stopped to study his member. He almost thought she was going to start taking notes. Research, Leah? She knelt down, inquisitive eyes as she took it in her hands. "I will say, you've exceeded my expectations, Charon." She smirked up at him and pushed him on his lower stomach, having him fall back towards the sofa. This has to be a dream. This is just one of those dreams I get sometimes. Wishful thinking.

He watched her take him in her mouth, licking him from base to tip. He hissed at how hot and wet her mouth was. Her tongue lathered and massaged masterfully. Her mouth was like a gentle vacuum. She hummed softly, the vibrations from her vocal cords shooting waves of ecstasy up his spine. Fuck. He felt himself soaring like he was on a rocket to the moon. She played with his balls, gently squeezing and pulling while pushing her mouth all the way over him. FUCK.

He felt himself blast off. He gasped, his body convulsing as he released all the pressure that had built inside of him. He was panting, looking down at her as she wiped her mouth. Fuck. She swallowed. Sweat was dripping down his temple as he sunk into the dilapidated couch. Every inch of him felt amazing. He stared at her with newfound bewilderment. Where the fuck did she learn to do that?

She disappeared into the bathroom, the sound of the water rushing and splashing breaking through his post-coital buzz. His mind was quickly searching the deeply neglected memory banks of his life from long ago. Shit. What am I supposed to do after this? She's probably waiting for me to do something. How the fuck do I top that?

It sounded terrible, but he didn't remember any of the women he had slept with before he turned. He hardly remembered what sex was even like-until just then. His world came crashing over him as he realized he had spent so many decades never doing it. Never experiencing it. It had become almost second nature to him to become this sexless being. How the fuck did I make it this long? And what was he going to do now?

She returned, wiping water with the back of her hand on her chin. "Still think I'm not sure what I want?" She looked almost triumphant. Arms folded under her bare breasts, seductress smirk and piercing eyes, he lifted his head to get a better look of her. Just hours ago, she had been this weak and delicate underground vault dwelling kid who needed his protection. And now, she stood before him like a black widow, cocky and aware of her power. There was a dark side to her that he was finally getting a chance to see. A little smudge on the glass. He was beginning to understand her big picture better. Every day, she answered that question more and more as to how she had survived out here so well.

"So... do you just have a thing for ghouls?" He felt suddenly embarrassed with his nakedness and went to put his pants back on.

"Honestly, I don't have a thing for most people." She rubbed her arms, looking cold. "But for some reason, you just turn me on."

Now that her teeth and claws were exposed, he felt skeptical. "Did you say that to Burke, too?"

Her eyebrows shot up high. Eyes stinging with hurt. "Wow." She glowered, her tone going icy. She looked away with a hurt smile rushing to her face. "You know what, you can sleep out here. We're done for now." She grabbed her bag and stormed into the side room, slamming the door.

The bang of the door frame shot a tremor into the ghoul, his limbs going stiff with the realization that he just fucked up badly.

(Necro)

She hadn't spoken to him outside of the bare necessities the past two days. They had moved on from the subway, her leading him to one of the vaults in the area she hadn't had a chance to explore yet. Vault 106. She never met anyone who had explored it yet and the opportunity to explore and scrounge a Vault-Tec vault was too tempting, both for her nostalgia of home and for her desire to find some terminal parts and lab equipment she needed. Charon can carry what we find home, she thought spitefully, not holding back on her antagonizing thoughts as of late.

They made it to the wilderness. Cliffs and brittle dead trees surrounded them while the sound of wind pushing through cracking branches brought a feeling of comfort to her fuming mind.

She checked her map, trying to reorient herself.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"Vault 106." She was deadpan and her voice a steady monotone. She didn't bother even looking in his direction, keeping her eyes towards her current goal. Get to Vault 106. Kill time by gathering as much knowledge and tech as possible. We need food, medical supplies, and ammo. Let's just keep this mission-oriented and fuck him in his stupid face.

"Why?"

She ignored his question and instead followed the relic of a gravel path down into a ravine. The yellow metal sign 'Fallout Shelter' confirmed they were in the right place. She fast-walked towards the nearby boarded door, pushing herself into the cave and not bothering to hold the door out for the ghoul.

The familiar cog-shaped vault door greeted her, making her chest throb with longing and loneliness. She almost hoped it was a functioning facility and she could talk shop with the locals. But she knew better. So far, she hadn't found a single vault that had healthy, thriving citizens within. Vault-Tec had apparently been using the vaults for fucked up experiments that she would have peer-reviewed them to hell over. She ventured toward the right side control panel, hooking her pipboy to the door's controls.

"Is this your vault?"

"No."

She slid the switch and the alarms blared, hurting her ears. The sound of metal groaning and shrieking as it was forced to disengage and open echoed off the cave walls. She waited for the mechanism to stop moving and entered the remains of the vault. Disappointment sank deeper, down to her toes. It looked like it would be a waste of time.

The vault was in complete disarray. The first thing she noticed was the clear dried blood spatters by the inner door control panel, black from having dried long ago. Tin cans, papers, and dust littered the entire entryway. She searched around, seeing nothing.

"I don't like the looks of this place," Charon muttered. She continued to ignore him.

She pressed on, entering the next room. Pipes and ventilation ducts snaked everywhere. This is different. There was hissing from some leaking pipes in the corner, a misty gas pouring out of the crack. She took in a deep breath, noting that the air tasted off. This was not the typical highly filtered air she was used to breathing most of her life. Did it smell... sweeter?

There was more blood found towards the east door. She went towards it, following the trail as it led deeper into the vault. It always amazed her how unique the layout of every Vault-Tec shelter was, making it hard for her to imagine how large the organization had been.

She went into a side room, a pristine terminal glinting behind a barricade of overturned tables and a bare brown skeleton splayed in the corner. She stopped to take the laser pistol, a valuable find. She nodded at the other skeleton that held another of the energy weapons. "Take that one," and she returned to ignoring her companion.

When she went on the terminal, the feeling of the keys under her fingers as she hacked access brought a soothing familiarity that helped keep her from saying anything abusive or immature to her partner, who seemed to hover closer to her the more she tried to pointedly ignore him. She kept ignoring his shadow over the terminal's green screen, putting all her attention onto the words of the security terminal.

To Vault Security:

If any of our residents notice any usual odor or faint taste to the air, please assure them that everything is okay.

She continued reading, her gut twisting instinctively when she saw who sent out the letter. The Overseer. That's always a good sign that this is just bullshit.

Vault dwellers acting strangely? She already ran through multiple scenarios. Poison in the air? Vault-Tec experiment on some biochemical warfare?

Metal footsteps broke through her contemplations and she spun around in her seat. The nearest door outside had slid open with a hiss and a dirty-faced man stepped out, knife in hand. His eyes looked wild, his teeth bared, and he lunged at them.

Charon made quick work of him, two blasts of his shotgun exploding into the man's chest.

"No!" She jumped up, realizing he had been a vault dweller. The blue jumpsuit. The yellow 106 on his collar. Now, completely soaked in his own blood. She rushed out of the room and knelt over the deceased man, knowing there was nothing she could do for him.

"He was attacking us," Charon calmly spoke. She finally looked at him, shooting him with all the hate and anger she could muster.

"We were trespassing! His response was perfectly valid." She looked down at the man, eyes burning. This was her fault. She wanted to go there. She looked at the man's face, noticing that his capillaries were distinct and protruding out of his neck and under his eyes. This bothered her. She pulled the man's eyelids up, exposing pinprick pupils and bloodshot eyes. The veins of his eyes had begun to snake into the very irises, making reddish-brown branches breaking through his blue circles.

Her eyes widened and her scalp prickled with growing fear. She unzipped his suit and pulled it off of him. "Help me," she ordered and Charon helped lift the corpse up while she pulled the man's one-piece completely off. Veins like roots pushed out from under his skin, pouring up and down his arms and legs. She never saw anything like this.

"What's wrong with him?" Charon, too, could tell there was something clearly wrong with this man.

"I don't know." She looked up at him, eyes wide. "But I think it has something to do with this air. We should leave-" and she stopped when she saw him.

He was just at the bottom of the stairway where the man had entered from. She recognized those kind eyes. That gray mane, combed neatly. The groomed beard. "Dad?" She whispered.

"What?" Charon followed her gaze, gripping his weapon. "Who?"

The man turned and continued deeper into the vault. "Dad!" She shot to her feet and sprinted after him. "Stop! It's me!"

"Leah!" Charon called out to her, his heavy footfalls sounding behind her as she gave chase. He was right there. Lab coat, pipboy, and the back of his head-she knew it was the back of his head. He went further into the vault, turning corners and disappearing just to reappear as soon as she rounded that very same corner. It was him. And he was ignoring her.

"Dad, come back! Please!" She turned to find herself alone. The hallway was empty and looked... different. She looked around desperately, heart pounding in her ears as she desperately tried to see which doorway he had turned to. She started at the nearest one and froze.

Dad's clinic. This is his clinic. She stepped, her world going a gentle lavender. She felt like she was being wrapped in soft linen and being rocked to sleep. Jonas Palmer. He's alive. And Dad. This was home. She was home. This was what she had always wanted and it was finally hers again.

She took a step deeper into the room and suddenly, everything was gone. Her world went from the promise of home into this filthy room with dried beakers and rusted terminals. No Dad. No Jonas. No one but her.

She looked around, desperately trying to understand her reality. What's happening?

(Necro)

Leah had bolted. She had left him, screaming about-her father?

He had so many questions. But he doubted she would answer them. She made it clear that she was displeased with him and found a suitable punishment that he found excruciating. She ignored him. If she had been Ahzrukhal, this would be a dream come true, he whined to himself.

He gave chase to her, unable to do anything but watch her sprint room to room, yelling out to empty spaces. Her eyes had gone wild, her hair falling out of place, giving her a manic look. She kept venturing deeper into the vault, which was the complete opposite of what common sense called for.

"Leah." He stopped her by grabbing her arm. "Slow down."

"I have to get him. Dad, he's here. Don't you see him?" She felt warm and her gaze was unfocused. She kept spinning her head back and forth, breathing loud and desperate. "Charon, he's here."

"All right," she was beginning to scare him. "You said your Dad? I thought he was in your vault, not this one."

"No, he left. That's why I'm out here. He left and I was kicked out. He's here. I thought he was in Rivet City, but he's here. I saw him."

"But remember what you just said? About how we need to get out of here? The air? You said you think it's the air, Leah." He gripped both arms and gently shook her. "What's wrong with the air?"

She blinked and returned. "There's something wrong with this air." She shook her head slightly, "I feel funny. Like... the color blue. How about you?"

"I feel fine." He was a ghoul. He was resistant to chems and handled radiation poisoning with ease. Maybe it was some weird radiation sickness. "How's your rad levels?"

She checked. "Low, bro. Heh, that rhymes. I don't think it's radiation." She looked around. "Sometimes, this place becomes my home. And blue. So blue."

"We need to leave."

"No. I'm fine." She pulled out of his grip. The earlier hostility was back along with her level mindedness. She seemed to remember she was upset with him and responded in kind. "I want to investigate. And find my father."

She continued to lead, newfound laser pistol in hand. She was hallucinating. Had to be. He could tell when she would experience one. She would suddenly perk up and sprint ahead, sharply turn into a room, only to have her shoulders slump in disappointment when she realized it wasn't real. He would hope this would jar her back to reality, but instead, she would begin searching every locker and every bin, as though the answer to the vault's secrets were hidden in such places. He wished he could see what she was seeing, to better understand why she seemed so intent to continue to stay in that vault.

It's probably more than what she sees. She seems to think this place is amazing.

Throughout their search, she had found notes that were scribbled on pieces of paper: incoherent poetry and strange ramblings that she would solemnly hand to him to read over. It made his muscles tighten with the feeling of impending doom coming down on them. Some of the words sounded like things she was muttering about. What the fuck is with the color blue?

She had hacked into several terminals, scanning through ancient messages.

"It's for sure something in the ventilation. The Overseer must have known. The bastard." She continued to read, biting her lip. The sound of footsteps approaching made her jolt."Fuck, what is it?"

They had stumbled upon more insane dwellers. Charon had waited until she gave the approval to shoot. She tried to reason with the faces smeared in caked blood and veins protruding outward like parasitic worms.

"Listen! I'm from Vault 101. I'm a medical doctor. Let me help you!"

Her words fell upon deaf ears and belligerent giggles as the residents swiped at her with knives and swung at her with kitchen cleavers.

"Charon, shoot them," she would shout with sobbing breath, eyes overflowing with frustrated tears. After the deed was done, she went to examine the bodies, noting their circulatory systems poking out from under their dirty skin.

"It's a mercy," Charon tried to console her, which she shook her head furiously.

"This is the Overseer's fault. I need to find out who's responsible," she muttered and pressed on. "And make him pay. Alphonse has to pay."

He didn't understand and she didn't care to explain. He merely followed and awaited for her to give him orders.

They had stayed in there for hours. He observed as she desperately tried to reach out and touch a phantom she called, "Amata" while screamed and stabbed at empty air while shouting, "Fuck yourself, Mack! Fucking die!"

He watched her as she continued to unravel her mind, revealing pieces of her past to him unknowingly. She despised a man named Mack. And she hated tunnel snakes. He didn't know that there were still snakes alive. Apparently, vaults have them, he surmised while she slashed her combat knife in the corner while cursing the tunnel snakes to hell.

Finally, they had cleared the lab and she was emotionally collected enough, her curiosity had been satisfied after finding one terminal in the security room. She read it under her breath, muttering incoherence, and then slammed her fist on the table. "Vault-Tec fucking pumped an experimental psychoactive chem into the ventilation system. And it's still here." Her eyes flashed up and around the pipes above their heads. "We've been breathing this in for about-four hours now." She checked her pipboy and flinched, looking up and staring behind Charon. She clenched her eyes shut and shook her head violently. He had seen her eyes become the same pinprick needlepoints that the first man he took had.

"So how have people survived for this long?"

"I don't think they're vault residents. No one has pipboys. But I think people like us that have come in don't come out." She looked back at Charon with her eyes wide open. He could see that her eyes were very red, the veins almost purple over the whites. "This place... is calling to me. It's been for a while now. And it's-winning. Charon, listen to me closely. Take me out of here. No matter what I say or do from now on, this is an official order. Get me out of here right now. By any means necessary. While I still can."

"Then let's go." He went to the nearest exit and waited for her. She blinked with a blank frown and then focused back on the terminal, as though they never had this conversation. "Leah, let's go."

She turned, smiling playfully. "In a minute. There's more to read here. Just chill for a second, my dude."

Ice collected in his stomach. "Leah," he calmly approached her, watching her trembling fingers as they danced across the terminal keyboard, fast and manic.

"Mm-hm?" She sighed and leaned back in the seat. "I don't know why I was so scared just now. It was nothing. Let's just relax and stay for a while. It's nice here, isn't it?"

Charon looked around, trying to process what he had to do. "Orders are orders, Leah."

"Hm?" She had begun to hum to herself, drifting in her own little dream world.

He grabbed her firmly by her upper arms and pulled her up.

"Hey!" She protested, "You're hurting me."

"No, I'm not. Yet." He pulled her to her feet. "We need to leave. Right now."

"You can't make me!" She pulled back. "Butch, leave me alone." She backed into the corner, holding out her pistol directly at him.

"Physical violence on your part will nullify our contract, Leah," he warned, not particularly hopeful that she would pull the trigger. Seeing her so unhinged, he knew this wasn't her. He never felt so thankful for being so resistant against chems.

"Butch, tell Wally to back off. I mean it." Clenched teeth and angry eyed, she pulled the trigger.

He had been waiting for her to move her trigger finger. He rushed her and forced her arm upwards, the laser blasting into the ceiling. She let out a howl as he wrenched the weapon out of her hand and gripped her wrists with the other. She was so... weak. He never tried to outpower her before but he hadn't needed to put any strain into the effort. She writhed and lashed while he simply held her in place.

She spat and hissed, trying to bite him like a feral dog. He needed to calm her down. He could wait until she tired herself out but he knew there was an easier way. A faster way. She needed to get out and stop breathing the air as soon as possible. He didn't particularly like the idea, but then again, she did give him the order. He pushed her to the ground, sliding the laser pistol out of her reach.

"B-Butch. Stop. Please."

"Leah," Charon sat cross-legged and pulled her into his lap, arm wrapped tightly and holding her limbs in place. She kept trying to push herself free of him, panting and wheezing. Her knees dug into his thighs, bones pressing into his quads. "I'm sorry for this. But orders are orders." And he wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her into an arm triangle choke-hold. She swatted at his arms and tried to pull her head out of his grip but he squeezed tighter. Her flailing stopped and her arms slackened. He waited a few extra seconds and freed her, her body spasming in response to the loss of blood to her brain.

While she was out, he packed away her pistol and strapped both packs together onto his back. The extra weight was annoying, but the real annoying part was when he had to carry a hundred twenty pound woman in his arms. She felt significantly heavier unconscious. He threw her over his shoulder, keeping his hand carefully on her backside while hurrying out of the vault while she was still dreaming sweet blue dreams.

Author's Note: I hope you don't hate Charon after this. XD Thanks for reading!