Leah heard muffled voices, deep and throaty, while she saw colorful lights and patterns across a black canvass. She felt her leg twitch while she heard the steady rhythm of combat boots thumping on steel floors. She was floating and rocking, the sensation of a warm mass under her stomach and chest, pressing up into her.
She felt so warm. She finally had the strength to open her eyes. And saw the well-toned backside draped in olive drab kevlar. She tried to sit up, her stomach aching from the pressure of the man's shoulders. Her carrier stopped and squatted to lower her back to her feet.
She was outside. The sky was a pale mustard yellow. The ground was a familiar sepia shade. She felt light-headed and let her knees buckle, sitting down while she caught her breath. Her skull felt like it was about to burst. Every inch of her hurt.
She looked up to see Charon, staring down at her. She blinked as she struggled to pick out his expression under the strong sunlight. "What happened?" She croaked and coughed, her throat dry and in need of some water. "Water," she held her hand out and began a violent storm of coughs.
Charon lowered both packs onto the ground and dug for her canteen. He handed it to her, waiting as she gulped down her purified drink. "We were in Vault 106."
She blinked and crawled to her pack to dig for some sunglasses. And some med-x. She sighed in relief when she found the med-x first, going to grab her flask of everclear to sterilize the injection point and her needle. "Tell me more." She flicked the needle to make sure all the air bubbles escaped. She then went to administer her heavy painkiller.
"You do not remember?"
"Barely. Just that... I saw my Dad? And there was something wrong with the ventilation." She sighed as she felt the pleasant relief of the opiate as it erased all the aches and throbs she was experiencing. Clean slate. So fresh. "Ah, that's better. Sorry, I just had this killer headache. I feel like I got in a wrestling match with a deathclaw. And the deathclaw won." She pulled out her scratched shades and put them on, relieving her corneas from the burning sunlight, and began studying her pipboy map.
"You would be dead if the deathclaw won," Charon retorted, looking down at her. "I hope you don't plan on me carrying you the rest of the way, now that you've taken your 'medicine'."
"No, I don't plan on you carrying me. You literally carried me seven miles. Jesus." She looked up at him. "How's your back?"
"Fine. How's your neck?"
"What?" She brought her hand to her neck, unsure of what he meant by that. "Fine? Why?"
He narrowed his eyes. She narrowed hers. "What happened in Vault 106, Charon?"
He looked back from where they came from. He looked down at his feet. "You ordered me to get you out of there. And then you went nuts and wanted to stay. So I got you out of there."
She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to remember. She remembered shades of blue and purple. Seeing her Dad. Amata. Butch. She remembered like it was a childhood memory. Butch had been picking on her. Pushing her around. The usual bully-picks-on-the-nerd moves. And then he put her in a chokehold. I'm sorry for this. But orders are orders. Her eyes opened and she looked up at him. "You didn't."
He cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes. "You gave the order."
She looked down at her canteen. "Well, guess that explains why I feel so shitty. I wish I could head back home to test my toxicity levels. Find out what the fuck was in that vault." She coughed again, looking around her. "That warehouse. Let's stay there for the rest of the day. I need a break." She pushed herself on her feet, off-balanced but capable of moving on her own. "And I'll need you to fill me in on everything that happened down there."
(Necro)
The earlier silent treatment she had given him at the beginning of their day seemed long forgotten. He was relieved, having been sure that she was going to sell his contract as soon as she found out how he had taken her out of that damned vault. He suspected her lack of attitude had more to do with her laid back reaction having been on med-x and not just because she was naturally predisposed to forgive. Forget, though, she seems pretty good at.
She had returned to her normal dialogue of questions.
"What did I say, word for word?"
"You were yelling about snakes. Tunnel snakes. And Butch. Amata. Mack. You kept trying to stab a guy named Mack."
"Who did I stab instead?"
"The air." He let out a small chuckle, remembering how she slashed desperately at the corner. Blade scraping steel walls.
She stopped and stared at him. "What?"
"Nothing." Charon kept his face neutral.
"No, it's something. What did I do?" She turned to him with furrowed brow. Her eyes were hidden behind her black aviators. "Tell me."
"You kept trying to attack empty space. You were hallucinating. You said that Vault-Tec had done an experiment with some experimental chem in the ventilation."
"I did?" She looked distraught, rubbing the sides of her head in frustration. "Fuck, why can't I remember any of that?"
"I don't know. The chem?"
"I agree. Ugh, I wish I had at least collected a filtered air sample. I think I remembered seeing one down there. Oh, I have a great idea," she looked up to him. "Maybe we can go back."
"No." He shook his head. "You should not go back in there. You were losing your mind. You wanted to stay down there, Leah. I had to literally force you to leave."
She frowned, lips pursed in frustration. "But I could get a ventilator. Or a gas mask."
"If you must retrieve something, I'll go down there myself. But you're not going anywhere near that place."
She let out a noise full of snark. "What makes you think you can boss me around?"
He didn't respond. She was right. She could do as she liked. Unless. He strode up to her, slowly. She watched him, careful and flexing. She was ready to flee. She was scared of him, now, her body language reeked of fear. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Uh-huh. See, I thought that was true until you-I don't know-choked the shit out of me." She took a step back but kept facing him. "I'm starting to think your contract is a load of baloney."
"Baloney?" He couldn't help but snicker at the word. He hadn't heard that one in a while. "Well, it's not. You were the one who told me to get you out there, any means necessary. I followed my part of the contract. And you know, you almost shot me. That would have ended our agreement."
Her mouth dropped. "What? When?"
"Just before I put you to sleep." He was right in front of her, towering over the smoothskin. She was looking up at him with mouth agape, upper lip twitching. He put one hand onto the small of her back, feeling the sweat damped leather, and pulled her against him. She was so small. So delicate. He wiped some dirt off the side of her cheek with his thumb, enjoying the silky smoothness of it.
"What are you doing?" She muttered incredulously.
"What I want. That's what you want, isn't it?" He leaned forward, bending slightly to accommodate her height. He pushed his mouth onto hers, tasting the salt of her skin and the sweetness of her tongue. "You're always telling me to do what I want."
She had enjoyed it at first. He had felt her nibble at his lip, lost in the heat of the moment, until she let out a, "mmph," before pushing him away. She took her shades off, silver eyes lightning hot. "Just because I'm having memory lapses doesn't mean I've forgotten that I'm mad at you."
He exhaled in frustration. "Look. I'm sorry. What I said was out of line. But you can't deny that I have a right to feel skeptical about this. About what you want from me." The anger softened in her gaze.
"Yeah, I bet. So what do you need to get over whatever it is that's bothering you? Me to tell you about every man I've slept with? Do you really want to know?"
"Not really. But I want things to be clear. What are you getting out of this? What's your angle?"
She kicked loose rubble and dirt into dust clouds, floating away with the breeze. "Nothing. I already have your undying loyalty. Your unflinching obedience." She looked at him, daring him to deny it. "In all sense of the idea, you belong to me. Even if you're not technically a 'slave' you sure fit the description, only it's much deeper than that. You know it's not true. So everything I could theoretically want, if I needed an angle, I already have."
He wanted to tell her that he belonged to no one. That he was only loyal to the contract. Obedient to whoever held it, only because he had to. But he didn't. "So what makes you want a guy like me? You like the cut of my jawline? My full head of hair?"
"For fuck's sake!" She spun around and grabbed the fabric of his shirt. "Maybe I like you for more than how you look! Maybe because you make me feel safe. Maybe it's because you can't hurt me. Or at least, I thought you couldn't, but I'm still learning your way of loopholing around your contract." She waved her hand in frustration, blushing, and quickening her speech. "Maybe it's because you're strong and smart and have an amazing body that I just want. You ever look at yourself naked? You're an amazing specimen! So quit with the self-deprecation. You're hot, at least to me."
His inner ears were ringing with her words. She really does have a thing for ghouls, he realized in half horror-half curious yearning. This woman. He snaked his arms around her and pulled her in, afraid to let her go. She buried her face into his chest, arms around him, shaking and letting out hiccups in between her laughter. "God, I hate telling the truth. It's so cheesy."
Charon turned to the warehouse. "Do you want to get inside? Maybe we can..." his face burned but he pressed on, finding new confidence, "continue where we left off yesterday. I want to make it up to you."
She looked up at him, a knowing smile on her rosy mouth. "Let's go."
(Necro)
(Author's Note: Now, we've come full circle to Chapter 1. Just in case there's any confusion as to missing a chance to read about their first time.)
After their first time together, Leah felt like the dam to her self control had broken. She was overflowing with sexual energy and she expressed it in kind by waking Charon in the middle of his break by crawling under their scratchy wool blanket and proceeding to lick and suck his flaccid cock until it swelled. He began to stir from her teasing. She felt him gasp as she began to press his meat deep into the back of her throat, pulling in all the air she could into her lungs until he let out a dark and rich moan of desire that echoed off the concrete and into her ears.
Her bones tremored eagerly and she pulled him out of her mouth and worked her way up, kissing the ridges of his stomach while gently raking her fingernails down the layered tendons of his sternum. He shivered and was panting heavy and she threw the blanket off of them and positioned herself to straddle his hips. He looked up at her with eyes full of wonder as she lowered on to his engorged manhood and letting out her own sigh of enjoyment as she sunk back onto his pelvis. He filled her, deep and penetrating, the feeling of his hot, hard stick pushing its way into her a satisfying sensation that she needed to amplify. He put his hands to her waist, running them up to her breasts as he squeezed and pinched her nipples until they were like jagged little shards under his fingers.
She began to set her rhythm, moving up and down over him while she felt herself grow wetter with each stroke. She felt him push his hips up into her, speeding the pumps with his own labor while tightly gripping her hips and squeezing her hip joints and pushing his thumb deep in between her thigh and groin. She let out a twitching yelp, the pressure enrapturing her with waves of glittering ecstasy up her skin, underneath her muscles, and coursing through her wave after wave.
He was wide awake, bucking into her like a misbehaving bull and she held on for dear life as she felt herself taking the ride of her life. She couldn't help but scream, her breasts bouncing as he gripped her butt cheeks while occasionally slapping them firmly until they stung so sweet. "Charon!" She screamed as she felt herself approaching orgasm.
He flipped her around, on top of her now, and pushed himself completely into her while he continued his assault onto her insides with his burning erection. He grunted with every stroke, his sweat dripping onto her chest and neck. The room stunk of sex and salt, the musky smell putting her over the edge of her lust-filled pleasure-seeking. He was growling with his raspy voice, pushing himself into her and pulling himself out with greater speed and ferocity. She dug her nails into his back and wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, letting out muffled cries as she felt herself come. "Oh my God, I'm coming," she sighed out feeling him continue inside of her. He gasped and she felt his hot seed pour into her, wet and sticky as he finished.
Their breaths echoed, a chorus of heavy inhalations and fast exhalations surrounding the lovers. His heart pounded into her ears, his neck pressed against her cheek as he sank on top of her. She caressed his thigh with her ankle, rubbing him affectionately as he recovered.
"Leah," he whispered lovingly, kissing her on the mouth and unburdening her chest with his massive weight. She rolled out from under him and went to retrieve a spare rag, wiping his semen off of her vulva and thighs. She jumped when she saw blood on her fingers. Under her nails. She grabbed his bicep, studying his chest where she had scratched him. He was bleeding, the spare patches of skin showing clear raked red marks. She looked at his back, seeing the damage she had done. She jumped to her feet, running to her pack.
"What's wrong?"
"I hurt you. You're bleeding," she retrieved a bottle of irradiated water, bringing it over with a fresh cloth. She soaked the fabric and pressed it against the deepest cuts, her eyes watering. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't worry about it." He touched her cheek with his fingertips. "Seriously. I barely felt it. Don't worry, this doesn't count as violence. At least, it doesn't feel like it does."
She pulled the pinkened cloth away, revealing the muscles restitched and smooth. The skin completely gone, though. She had done that. She had peeled the skin right from his flesh.
"Leah." Charon lifted her chin up to him. "This is normal for me." His words did little to soothe her guilt. I should know better by now. "You know something?" He smirked at her as she continued to press radioactive water onto his chest.
"What?"
"You're a lot better at fucking than you are at shooting. Better than me, at least."
She let out a snicker. "It just comes with practice. And you're a fast learner." She leaned forward and placed a slow, deep kiss on his dry mouth. "And you are so eager to please."
He smirked back, bending his elbow and resting his head against his hand. "I look forward to your next lesson. So what's the plan?"
She stretched and yawned, wanting to just go back to sleep. But they couldn't stay in their little hidey-hole forever. "Nothing." She decided there was no rush and sank back into their one pillow, admiring his well-sculpted torso and arms. She ran her hand lightly over each bulge and bump, the musculature like braille under her fingertips. He had this smell about him, rich like metallic and musk. She drank him in, enjoying this one day of leisure they shared together. "Was there something you wanted to do? Revenge on past employers? Want to save a baby radscorpion stuck in a ditch?"
"Very funny. No. Just staying with you is fine." He closed his eyes, leaning against the pillow. "So when are we heading back to Megaton?"
"I'll use the ham radio to contact Moira. See if the coast is clear to head back. If it's not, I guess we can always keep exploring. See who needs help."
Charon seemed deep in thought. "What about your Dad?"
She sat up, raising an eyebrow. "Not very appropriate pillow talk. What about him?"
"Back in 106, you mentioned the only reason you're out here is to find him. But you never mentioned him to me before. You said he's supposed to be in Rivet City."
"I did, huh?" She laid back down and covered her eyes with her hand. Fuck. Of course I did. "Well, nothing much to say. My father abandoned me. And because he sucks at thinking ahead, I ended up getting caught up in a power struggle with our Overseer and ended up forced to leave the vault too. And yeah. I want to see him again. But I also don't." She sighed and dug for her pack, digging through until she pulled out a jet ampule. "Enough info? Let's just not talk about it anymore."
"Fine. We don't have to talk about it. Just-" Charon took the chem from her tight grip, throwing it far away. The cartridge clattered in the distance. He pulled her close to him, squeezing her against his warm chest. "-don't take that crap. I've seen too many people waste away on jet alone. So do me a favor and quit. I'll look the other way for your other chems. Just. Be here, sober. With me. And you don't have to tell me anymore if you don't want. "
"Gee, thanks," she rolled her eyes but didn't try to pull away from him. Sometimes he was annoying with his holier-than-thou-chem-users attitude, but today, it felt nice to have someone care, and care about her. "You know, if you want to know more, I can tell you. If you tell me a little about yourself." She looked at him cautiously, expecting rejection.
Charon seemed to ponder this. "All right. What was life like growing up in a vault?"
"Pretty quiet. Nothing like here. I had food. Clean water. Environmentally controlled conditions. A lot of school. Studying. I was the daughter to the vault's only doctor, so I had pretty big shoes to fill. I had taken an exam that set me on the course in becoming another medical practitioner. Like daughter, like father, everyone liked to say. There were a lot of bullies, though. Assholes." She shut her eyes briefly. "Predators. But I got by. My dad did his best. There were some good people. Like my friend, Amata. So ironic that she's the Overseer's daughter." She rolled her eyes and forced a laugh.
"You keep saying Overseer. Was he your boss?"
"Yeah, the head guy in charge. He basically acts like the President. Or-well, he's kind of like Lucas Simms is to Megaton. Only much more powerful. He's probably more like President Eden is to the Enclave. His security team are like his secret police."
"Secret police?"
"George Orwell?" She raised an eyebrow and Charon simply stared back. "1984. A prewar book about a dystopian future where-you know, it doesn't matter. It doesn't really apply to our world. The Enclave isn't exactly in control of everything." She snickered. "It's so obvious I had a sheltered life growing up. Get it? Fallout shelter?"
Charon groaned. "So Overseer is some asshole. Amata is your best friend and his kid. I'm surprised you didn't find a way to twist that to your advantage."
"Wow, there you go again, thinking I'm some manipulative mastermind. In hindsight, I should have used that angle. But no, Amata and I are just good friends. We look out for each other. Looked out for each other."
"What about the snakes? You really didn't seem to like them. Are they a problem in vaults?"
She let out genuine laughter, bubbly and fun-filled. "Ah, I haven't laughed like that in months. Thank you."
"So, the snakes?"
"There's no snakes. It's just some stupid name for some stupid wannabe group of wannabe badasses I had the misfortune of growing up with. Consisting of a group of boys I grew up with. Butch, Wally, and Paul." She went to get her water, her throat getting parched from talking so much.
"So what happened between you and Butch?"
She coughed, inhaling the water wrong. She kept her face over the side of the mattress, wiping the droplets with the dirty rag. "What makes you say that?"
"106."
"Fuck that vault." She rubbed her forehead. "You know, I've spilled plenty of info so far."
"Not all that you've spilled," Charon nodded to her wet chest and floor with a smirk.
She returned a sneer. "Okay. My turn. So. Before Ahzrukhal. Tell me about an employer. Any employer. Preferably one that you didn't hate so much."
"I hated all my employers." He leaned back and let out a sigh of defeat. "There was one. Before this," he waved at his face. "Before the war. My memory isn't sharp anymore, especially when it's about things that happened so long ago. But I remember the first contract."
She leaned forward, eager to hear more.
"I was just a kid. Around your age. I don't remember my parents very well. But they weren't great. My old man used to drink and liked to fight. My mom... was a chem fiend. Jet was everywhere, before the war. It was a mess."
"Oh-" She blurted out and remembered to keep her mouth shut. She grimaced and nodded at him to keep talking.
"Before the war, life was different. You went to college, got a job, found a woman, and started a family. It was simple. Easy. But back then, I didn't have money for college. But if you signed a contract with the military, they pay for your education. So I joined the Marines."
"All this time you're a prewar ghoul, and you never told me?!" She put her hands to her cheeks, eyes starstruck. "Did you know Carol back then?"
"Do you think all ghouls just know each other?"
"Yes." She smiled. "You knew Gob."
"Because we lived in the same town. No, I wasn't from D.C. originally. I grew up out west. It used to be called California back then."
"How did you end up here?"
"I had orders here."
"Doing what?"
"Can't say."
"Why not? It's not like you'll get in trouble for telling me."
"I just. Can't." His face had gone serious, his eyes cooling and distant. "Don't ask."
She slumped her shoulders. "Well, what was life like in the Marines? Before the war?"
"Hard, at the time. I wasn't used to the lifestyle back then. We had plenty to eat and training, all day, every day. Except Sundays. A lot of standing around and waiting." He had trailed off, watching her.
"And how did you survive? The bombs?"
He had gone silent again. She was beginning to connect the dots. "Hmm, you can't talk about why you were stationed here, you survived a nuclear holocaust in the heart of the capital of the nation... I'm assuming you can't talk about what happened then, too? Let me guess. Some top-secret government mission that you were involved in?"
He watched her, stone-faced, muscles in his neck flexing. She sat up, suddenly feeling like he was about to lurch at her. "Charon?" She forced a smile. "Come on, I was just kidding. Don't be mad if I guessed right. Here. I'll make it even. Ask me anything. Anything, and I'll spill the truth. Promise. Subject officially changing."
He narrowed his eyes. He was thinking of the best question. She was immediately regretting her decision.
"Who is Mack?"
She felt the blood rush out of her face. Time had stood still. "How do you know Mack? 106?"
"Yeah." His voice had gone soft, apologetic. "You seem to hate the guy."
"For good reason." She pulled the blanket up to her chest and crossed her arms, bundling herself as she dove into the truth. "Mack is a Vault 101 resident. He was friends with my Dad." She bit her lip, admiring a tear in the blanket's stitching. "And he enjoys molesting little girls. Particularly one little girl. And he's friends with all the powerful people in the vault so there's nothing anyone will do for that little girl. Or believe her." Her eyes burned and she swallowed back the sob that was threatening to burst through. "Even the one person who should. Instant buzz killer, I know. But I promised the truth. So there. Let's move on."
His hand took hers. Rough, red skin engulfed her fingers. "I'm sorry."
"Spare me your pity. I don't want it." She had the urge to wrench her hand away but she resisted. He did nothing wrong.
"If you ever see him again, just tell me what you want. I'll do it." His voice was a low growl, heavy with calm anger.
She watched him, eyebrow raised. "I sure hope it never comes to that. I hope I never see him again."
(Necro)
She was tying her boots, freshly dressed in her leathers and gear. Thin singlet left her arms bare for him to enjoy. He noticed bruises on her wrists that he hadn't taken notice of until just then. Are those from me? He couldn't be certain. He still felt a twinge in his gut when he thought of her in Vault 106 and what he had to do to sedate her. Her neck was smooth and unmarked, but he still felt it in his arms when he had squeezed it. He stood patient, having been ready long before her, waiting for her to finish and lead them to their next destination. Wherever that was.
He had given her some space since their bedside talk. She had been quiet the rest of the morning, being preoccupied with using her pipboy while taking inventory of their supplies.
Her hair was still down, falling loose in tangles over one shoulder. She had her round frames on, the green light of her wrist's screen reflecting off the circular lenses. She's not happy, he concluded, feeling almost regretful having asked her the question that set her off this ominous tension. Almost. But he needed to know, needed to understand what set her off. Who her enemies were.
The more he learned about her past, the more he realized that she hadn't been sheltered. Not really. She had been stuck in a pit of leeches. Her whole life, she had to live in that vault with no one to help her. She hated his pity, yet he couldn't stop transmitting it for her.
"Let's go to Rivet City. Have you ever been?" She looked up at him while she began to braid her hair.
"Yes. Several times."
"Good. You can fill me in as we make our way there. I've been putting off going for a long time, but I think it's time I start looking for my Dad."
This seemed good. Healthy, even. Though he wasn't sure he looked forward to meeting the bastard. "Very well."
They headed south while the sun was still low in the sky. The cool morning was soothing to his face as they traversed uneven terrain. She moved with the habits of avoidance, trying to go around a nest of giant radscorpions (which he proceeded to grenade and shoot at) and crouched behind boulders when she spotted a small troop of raiders (which he proceeded to walk straight towards, firing directly at their faces). She didn't complain or make exasperated noises like she usually did. He was mildly disappointed, hoping his acts of distinct beligerence would return her sharp tongue and huffy countenance. Instead, she merely joined him half heartedly, her bright red laser surprisingly more accurate than her usual shooting, hitting marks and vaporizing mohawks into white ash. He took note, wondering if she had learned to use energy weapons before holding a standard gun. Or maybe she just was finally improving due to being out in the field for a while.
"Not bad," he threw her a bone, waiting for her to smile. She barely acknowledged his words with a glance and nod. He was beginning to feel concern grow in his throat when a man with a slave collar blinking sprinted towards them, bawling and pleading.
"Please, help me! They're going to kill me!"
"Stop that man!" Two heavily armed men had shortly followed, guns pointed at the runaway slave and Leah. "This slave is our property. Stay out of the way and we'll let you live." One had black square shades with a combat helmet. The other was short and stocky, holding a hunting rifle directed three feet from his employer's temple.
He pointed the gun back, finger caressing the trigger. "What are your orders, Leah."
She put her hand on the crying man's shoulders, him gripping the sleeves of her leather jacket while he pleaded for her to intervene. "What did you call him first?"
"What?" The tall one's voice was delicate. "The fuck you say?"
"You said, 'Stop that man' if I recall correctly." She looked at both of them, a weary numbness in her stare. "So if he's a man, what makes him your property?"
Charon blinked when she had slashed a combat knife across the throat of the short one while the tall one flinched and went to aim his gun towards her. Charon made short work of his sluggish response, his skull exploding into a stream of ruby liquid.
"Oh my God," the escaped slave began to cry high pitched whines. There was a shrill beeping on his neck as the red light began to blink faster. "It's going to explode!"
"Calm down," She dropped her knife to the ground and grabbed the man's shoulders, one hand gripping the metal while she crouched to look underneath the rim of the gaudy necklace. "Charon, check the bodies for a detonator. Some metal controller. Anything that looks like it controls this. Calm down," she lowered her voice to the man who kept letting out squeaks of fear. "These things don't usually detonate unless they've been rigged, triggered, or if I fuck this up. And I haven't fucked up one of these yet. Charon?"
It was like she had been reborn from the crisis. Charon was digging through the bleeding bodies' clothes, finding caps and chems but no device. "Nothing yet," he growled, not liking how close they were to the walking bomb. How close she was to that explosive.
She was digging through her pack, pulling out a small leather packet with some ancient-looking tools. Tiny screwdrivers, crescent wrenches, pliers. "Sir, lie down. Just try to relax. This will take a couple of minutes."
Charon had gone through the slavers' armor, finding nothing helpful. He merely gathered and organized the loot while watching nervously over to the good doctor as she rolled her sleeves and began twisting screws and digging fingers under exposed wiring.
Finally, the beeping had stopped. Silence had never felt so good. "There," she sighed. "You should be good to go. You're right by Rivet City. Here." She dug out of her pocket some caps and handed it to the man. "Get yourself some food and whatever you need to get going. I recommend going to the Lincoln Memorial. It'll be safe for you. If you do, tell Hannibal that Leah said, 'Heads up'. Inside joke. You'll get it eventually." She patted the man on the back and went to pack her things.
"Thank you!" The man was rushing her with praises and gratitude while she slung her bag back over her shoulders.
"Don't mention it. Seriously. I'm keeping a low profile right now. Charon?" She turned to him, the veteran hero, in her element.
They continued on, walking towards the large rusting aircraft carrier that hung off in the distance. Charon kept pace with her, keeping his eye carefully on their current lost puppy dog who stayed close while wiping tears from dirty cheeks.
Traveling with her and seeing how she handled situations like these gave him hope for their future. And the world's.