She scratched her dusty dark hair while flashing a smile up at the giant in the corner. He looked... tired. Oh, he didn't slouch or have a frown on his face that gave away how tired he was. But the look in his eye, that cold numb stare and the growl that followed as she took in his entire being-it all reaked of exhaustion.

"Hi." She tried to choose her words carefully as she put her hands in her pockets. She noticed his reflexive eying her movement; the keen observer he seemed to be. She had noticed him eying her every time she entered the Ninth Circle. At first, she thought it was the typical check out of the newest smoothskin to visit Underworld. And that excited her. But when she never saw him outside of that dingy bar, she began to wonder.

Days of coming back, a hit of Jet, and the blatant return of his stares had her come with another observation...

He never moved from that corner. And that pissed her off, for reasons she didn't think too much about. She had some theories. But no confirmations yet. She was a stranger, still, in the community. She didn't call it a city-it was too small to be one. Not like Rivet City or Megaton. But it was large enough for her to be left alone. But tonight, she wanted him to know who she was. She wanted to know who he was.

"My name is-"

"Talk to Ahzrukhal." Monotonous. Gruff. She raised her eyebrow in response.

"Uh... okay. I have. I just-"

"No. Go talk to Ahzrukhal."

She let out a breath of disbelief. She couldn't help being a little offended, but she shrugged it off and went back to the bar. Whatever. Asshole. Sitting at the bar and making a point to have her back to the bouncer, she nodded at the skeezy ghoul that smiled his slimy mouth down at her.

"Well," he wheezed with his scratchy voice that made her wince. "Aren't you looking a little down, darling?"

She had become good at keeping her face still when she internally cringed. His smile was as poisonous as a radscorpion. Of course, he had those dead ghoulish eyes. Glazed. whitened from decay. But she could feel something worse about him. He was bad news.

But he had a good supply. She tilted her head to the side and smiled shyly at him. The pretty little smoothskin. The fresh young vault dweller. The act helped let people let their guard down with her. "Do you want to hear more about my problems?"

"Why, of course. Tell Uncle Ahzrukhal all about it." The drawl and the way he leaned over her was uncanny to a bad dream. The kind where sweaty old Mr. Mack would look down at her when she was younger. Cornered. "Don't tell your father, or you both won't stay here for long." She swallowed back the gag, returning to a familiar state of mind. She let her fingers graze his hand while keeping her smile flirty. Just play along. It's always easier if you just play along.

"I'll have a beer. And some more jet, please." His scratchy chuckle and the chink of brown glass on metal was a comforting sound. While the room temperature liquid rushing down her throat, it helped distract her from thinking too much. "I tried to talk to that guy in the corner. He's an asshole."

"Ah, I see you've become acquainted with my bouncer, Charon." The bartender eyed her carefully as he smirked. "He is under contract. I have ordered him not to speak unless spoken to. And to ensure any deep conversations are referred to myself."

"He can't speak?" She played with the jet inhaler. She'd wait until she was ready for bed to take it.

"Oh, don't mistake his silence for stupidity. That would be... unwise." Azrukhal hissed out a snicker through his rotting teeth. She could smell him across the bar. He smelled of shit and rot. "No, Charon was raised by an interesting group of mercenaries. They... well, they sort of brain washed him."

As he explained to her the details of Charon's contract, the girl's eyes widened slightly. She tried to keep her game face on, but it was hard to maintain her composure.

"How much?" She softly asked, ready to barter.

Charon watched the narrow frame of the girl as she drank and schmoozed with his most hated enemy. What was a young little smoothskin like her doing in a place like this? He didn't like it. He didn't want to see what would happen to her. He wasn't going to kid himself into thinking she was going to walk out of there and live happily ever after. No, not when she was buying jet off of Azrukhal every night. She was supposed to be some vault dweller that got lost up on the surface. Those kind didn't last. He chose not to think too much into it. If it wasn't with chems, it'd be some raiders or some yao guai that finished her off. Or just dehydration.

His employer continued to whisper to her, leaning forward in an interest he knew was far from pure. 1. 2. 3. 4... whenever he started getting especially aggravated he mentally counted. Not to ten, but indefinitely until he forgot what had triggered him. He made it to 593 when she spun around in her bar stool, a strange smile directed at him. This made him freeze. She was looking at him with a smug pride he didn't know what to make of.

He'd hear on the radio about some of her exploits. She rescued an orphan from Deathclaws. Killed a Behemoth and fixed Three Dog's antenna. There was talk of her freeing slaves in Paradise Falls. But Charon didn't like getting hopeful. He was numb to the disappointment.

She walked toward him with a sheet of paper in her hands. It was worn and folded, the familiar brown paper his everything. He already knew, as Azrukahl greedily collected the mountain of bottle caps on his counter and as she made her way to his corner, that he was finally free. Free of Azrukahl. Free of being chained to that chem dealing fiend. He was finally free of his worst employer.

"Hi! Guess what? I bought your contract."

"This is good to know. Wait here. There is something I must do, first." She didn't order him to stop, which he took as permission. He marched to Azrukahl, the buzz of endorphins and serotonin like ecstasy as he sauntered over to very man that was the poison of Underworld. He had dreamed of this day. He wasn't sure if this wasn't a dream, too. But he'd savor it. He'd bask in it. He could feel her watching him. He wanted her, to. So she would learn from another's mistakes. "Azrukahl."

"Come to say goodbye?" He hardly looked interested. For over 60 years he slaved for this man. He had killed and beaten and done worse in the name of his employer. And all of that was so easily dismissed with a couple thousand caps.

"Yes."

He didn't care to be slow. He only wanted to be precise. He pulled his shotgun and aimed at Azrukahl's forehead. He pulled the trigger.

The familiar explosion sounded like running water and the white sound of cool ventilation. Peace washed over him. For good measure, and in an effort to continue the pleasure he felt, he fired again, this time at the bloody corpse at his feet. The smell of gunpowder and blood was like prewar perfume.

He heard her footsteps behind him. He swung around and put his weapon away. "Okay. Let's go."

She looked paler, looking down at the gory mess of brains and cartilage. He wondered what she was thinking. Her hesitation was expected, though he didn't expect what was next. She looked back at him and nodded. "Let's go." And asked for no explanation.

She's trying to appear tough, he reasoned. Or maybe she's in shock. He didn't bother to figure her out. He had a feeling he'd have plenty of time to get to know his new employer.