"Hey everybody, this is Three Dog, your friendly neighborhood disc jockey-"
A necrotic finger flipped a dial, and the eccentric voice playing sole entertainment to the Capital Wasteland was rudely tuned out. An indiscernible string of cursed muttering followed the encore of static as the radio was switched off.
Ahzrukhal was in a foul mood for the past few weeks; the subtle change in his already sour temperament was not lost on his employee.
A snap of fingers- the dog was being beckoned. "Take this trash out."
A loud belch comically responded from the said heap of filth sprawled over the bar counter. The hulking ghoul physically left his assigned spot against the wall; his mental state left behind as he carried out his mindless task. A fingerless gloved hand took purchase of the backside of Patchwork's sewn burlap sack of clothing, somewhat ripping the stitching as he gave a strong pull.
A grunt of…something, drunkenly left the ghoul's mouth as he was dragged to the double doors, and simply tossed like a discarded rag doll against the baluster.
"I don't want him to detract potential clients- throw him down the stairs." Another command, this one given in a curt tone.
Charon's mental self gave a brief look around the room with a raised eyebrow muscle. There were no possible potential clients to detract from, simply because they were all already stationed in their spots, almost subconsciously assigned. The routine of this place was so ingrained in everyone's lives that any change was regarded as the second coming.
"Grb!" The drunken ghoul's arm was grabbed. A tug, and the ferryman came away with an appendage.
Charon grunted, going for a second attempt. The other arm just as easily gave way, and the crimson ghoul was left staring at the two acquired limbs in his hands. He pitched them down the stairwell, narrowly missing the floating Mister Gutsy, which responded in kind with watch where you're aiming, damn zombie!
Some snickering drifted down the hall from witnessing fellows as he finally elected to seize the ghoul by the throat, a minuscule portion of his dark humor wondering about the limitations of Patchwork's body displacement as a single palm fully clasped around.
The 'town drunk' was then lifted over his head, and chucked.
"I said watch it! You rotting-"
The doors to The Ninth Circle swung on their past-due oiled hinges as the bouncer automatically resumed his post.
Underworld's sentry gave a grind of her heel against the pavement outside, an unlit cigarette already held hostage in between the corner of her lips. A crunch of heavy footsteps drew her attention- the bouncer was making his way back from yet another trip, his weapon satchel empty and replaced with the clinking of caps. Where he exactly went off to…no one knew.
And they were all afraid to ask.
"Have some fun?" Willow's rasped voice called out conversationally, almost ironically.
Charon gave the exact same response as he had given her these past fifteen years. Nothing.
She didn't expect one, it would have actually been frightening if the larger ghoul had said anything, at all. Everyone living in Underworld was used to the brute and stoic nature of Ahzrukhal's chained dog; if there was a reason for you to receive his attention, it was most likely to be the other end of a fist.
Still, she craned her head to subtly observe as he climbed the steps to the Museum of History; the stretch of his back as he pulled at the handle of the door, the ripple of exposed muscle from his left arm. Once disappeared inside from her longing gaze, she released a wistful sigh to herself, cupping one hand around her mouth as she worked to light up her smoke.
"See ya in a couple weeks." Quinn's hand gave its usual farewell of a wave as he exited from Carol's Place. The dark ghoul was busily adjusting the shoulders of his pack until a commotion from across the concourse halted his actions.
The double doors to The Ninth Circle burst open dramatically, a wasted patron being kicked out on the tail of their bone.
"Just a couple of weeks…" Quinn muttered under his breath, giving a roll of his shoulders and proceeding his way down the stairs.
The belligerent ghoul so thoughtfully cast out began to shout obscenities at the closed door until an epiphany came to mind- there was a zip at his waist, and something fleshy was fished out into a palm, the recognizable sound of a piss being taken melding with the ghoul's relieved groans.
SLAM
A single doorframe was kicked open, making brunt contact with the defiler. The force of the slam sent the offender careening backward until his back was cornered against the railing. There was a well-placed kick, and the ghoul was booted over the edge, his garbled screams only garnering minor interest.
Charon didn't bother in peering over the railing to the damage dealt; he caught the shuttering frame as it swung back, and shut the door behind him.
"We are coming to you loud and proud, in a special live report!"
A faint crack towards the end of the radio broadcast; a rolling glass had found its way off the edge of a table. Another snap of fingers, performed completely out of habit, but no move was made to answer the summoned call.
Ahzrukhal lifted his bleary gaze to the missing silhouette of his contracted bouncer and frowned. That was right- Charon was sent on a previous errand for the barkeep, and had yet to return. A disgruntled sigh escaped the ghoul's lips, and he settled his hands along the counter as he contemplated his choices.
"Not so big without your dog, are ya, Ahzrukhal?" A leery grin from the ghoul who committed the minor atrocity, leaning back with full confidence that the rickety seat wouldn't collapse beneath the shift of weight.
A ghoul woman in the middle of inhaling a puff of jet sputtered after overhearing the bold statement. The wise-ass may have been new to this part of town, but it was no excuse for not taking the whispered tales of the barkeep to heart.
Ahzrukhal seemed to take it in stride; a grin of his own crawling along the sides of his necrotic face. "I'm sorry, I didn't quite get that. Come again?"
The ghoul now leaned forward, an elbow resting over one knee. "I said- what's it like being all shaft and no balls?"
A chortled laugh ripped on the other side of the room, but was hastily swallowed back down by the glare the barkeep swiveled to them. Ahzrukhal just gave a knowing look to those better-educated fellows seated around, his words seeping like oil over water as his eyes swept over his patrons.
"I'm not sure…why don't you inform me, later?"
The bouncer returned following that evening, a bloodied bag of caps bequeathed to his employer, and a rather delighted set of instructions given as thanks. Charon's hands flexed into fists momentarily, before a long exhale was made with a single nod of his head.
The taunting ghoul never did give his opinion.
"Oh-h-hey, sorry there, sir- uh, sorry- ma'am?"
A pair of glowing orbs immediately flit from their floating space in the dim lighting to the smoothskin awkwardly strolling inside. A quick scan was conducted: a filthy but vibrantly jarring vault suit that screamed take advantage of me!, some leather straps serving as rigged protection, a baseball cap so bleached from the sun it was difficult to discern the original color, a pair of boots with no visible tread, a grimy and cracked Pip-Boy strapped to his wrist…a rather pathetic display of a 10 mm pistol, hanging from a holster at his hip.
The eyes gave a single blink as they refocused their thousand-yard stare to the wall across. Threat level assessment…next to nonexistent.
"Who, oh, me? Well, shoot, I mean- I told Three Dog not to say anything, it's kinda embarrassing-"
The crimson ghoul snapped his focus back to the kid, his easy-toned voice carrying unintentionally brashly across the room. It wasn't a deep voice, by any means…it was just loud. The ghoul blinked at the embroidered numbers stitched across the vault dweller's back as he took a seat at the bar.
"I honestly don't know why he talks about it so much, really, it's nothing-"
Like an oiled cog being fit perfectly inside a rusted-out machine, the motions of the other inhabitants began to…live. His employer was leaning over the bar counter, seemingly making easy conversation with the newcomer as though they were past acquaintances. There was then a frown across his employer's face- one Charon regrettably knew all too well.
"No caps? No service. Get out." A thrust of his head, but the large ghoul was already displaced from the wall.
"I mean, I got stuff to trade- oh, uh, hello, sir-" A high-pitched squeak towards the end as Charon grabbed the kid by the arm, effortlessly lifting him from his spot.
The double doors closed behind them, and the kid readjusted his cap with one hand, looking down at the floor a foot from his feet as he was dangled in the ghoul's grip. A goofy smile tried to placate the fear he palpated.
"So, uh, I'm Ad-" The kid never had a chance to finish his introductions, as the bouncer throttled him roughly. Charon then let him drop from his hold, and he sat there, weaving in circles, trying to see past all the swimming stars. "-therestwoofyou!?"
That foolish smile then returned, spinning around along the gravitational track.
A rumbling sound uttered from the ghoul's throat- direct, flat, and not in any way looking to make friends. "Go home."
Those brown eyes had a twinkle of humor to them as that white smile continued to beam. "Don't have a home."