Five days. She had kept them there for five days and it didn't seem like she was planning on ending her 'field research' anytime soon.
Charon was beginning to wonder if maybe serving Ahzrukhal hadn't been such a bad deal after all. No, this is still better. Though sleeping under the irradiated clouds was getting old and their supplies were dwindling, she was surprisingly laid back. She didn't seem concerned when he went to take a piss or helped himself to her backpack whenever he was hungry. She even would offer him some leisure reading with one of her prewar books or magazines. She was practically friendly. As long as he didn't distract her when she was note-taking.
When he tried to talk to her while she was in the middle of some serious writing, she would sharply turn to him with manic slanted eyebrows and curled lips that looked almost scary. She'd practically hiss, "What?!" and then turn her tightened shoulders towards him as she continued her furious scribbling. He quickly learned that she didn't multitask well. Which is a problem if she wants to learn how to survive out here. Which means I've got my work ahead of me. He took a deep breath as he contemplated this. He never liked scientists and now he was working for one. Why was his luck this bad?
She stopped her writing briefly to stretch, arching her back and pushing her chest forward. She had only her undershirt on and her sweating helped him see plenty of curve and skin. He stole a good long glance before making sure he kept himself turned in case she caught him staring. Maybe it's not all bad luck. He never had a female employer before, either.
She seemed to be scattered with her notetaking, her Pipboy scrolling, and her binoculars as she would mutter to herself and continue stalking the ferals at the trainyard. They remained at their cliff undisturbed. He was surprised no radscorpion had stumbled across their little nest yet.
To help pass the time he decided to 'study' his employer. He had her physicality imprinted into his brain. Her curly brown hair was thick and tied back in a tight bun. He admired her bare neck and arms, shapely and smooth. Unscarred. Still completely intact. She was like a prewar mirage. She wore reading glasses too, apparently. Large unflattering spectacles that made her look like an owl. Huh, forgot owls were a thing until just now. He had also forgotten what it was like to just let his mind wander passively. His thoughts were less violent. Less bloodthirsty.
While working in The 9th Circle he had only hateful inner monologues as his company. It had helped keep him focused on one thing. Following orders. He hadn't socialized much, as part of the conditions working under Ahzrukhal. Stop thinking about him. He's dead. You're free of him.
Her pencil suddenly flew out of her hand and she let out an audible 'unf!' as she tried to catch it. The small wood skipped and rolled over the cliff. She ran blindly after it, startling him as he started toward her. She's going to fall over the side. She stopped just in time and let out a pained sigh and mumbled, "Great, that's my last one!"
He smirked. She had brought six pencils and all had fallen over the edge. She has shit dexterity. Clumsy. But maybe that's from writing nonstop by hand for five fucking days straight.
"Perhaps we should gather supplies. We only have enough food for two more days out here." He braced himself for her to tell him to be silent. To order him to never speak again.
It never came.
Instead, she sighed, looking at her Pipboy. After some swiping and clicking, she looked up at him. "I guess we could head to Megaton. Or maybe check out what's over there." She pointed off to Tenpenny Tower, the pillar looming over them ominously with their pointy spires stabbing the sky. "I saw some traders and their brahmin heading towards there."
"That is Tenpenny Tower. They are notorious for not letting ghouls in. Also, the owner likes to snipe us from his balcony."
She raised an eyebrow and raised her binoculars to gawk. "Well, that's just shitty of them."
"That is how this world is." He wanted to add more but thought better of it. He only just started talking freely. He didn't want to risk losing the privilege just yet.
"Well, then they won't have our business. We're not that desperate." She lowered her looking glass and stretched. "Okay, let's head back. I could use a shower and a hot meal. How about you?"
"Yes."
(Necro)
Leah was beginning to realize she was grossly ill-prepared for the Capital Wasteland. It had started with her trying to traverse the underground Metro tunnels with ghoul companion in tow. She had lackadaisically led the way, opening the maintenance door to begin their return to her home.
She had turned her Pipboy light on and began to step forward when she felt him grab her firmly by her upper arms and pull her back with a wrench. She whiplashed, her head bobbing like... well a bobblehead. Before she could give an apprehensive, 'What the fuck', he calmly muttered, "Look. Down."
When she obliged him she realized what she had almost stepped on. A bear trap. She felt the blood rush out of her face and she exhaled weekly. "Oh." That was all she could say. She felt lame. Stupid. Her paling face blossomed into humiliating scarlet. She turned to him and bowed her head in shame. "Thanks. You saved my ankle."
He paused, then growled, "I saved myself from having to carry your wounded ass all the way back to Megaton."
She flinched, the first time he seemed visibly angry with her in a while. "I could always just use a stimpack, you know. But I'll pay more attention from now on." She pressed forward. She kept her eyes on the ground while wondering, Who the fuck leaves bear traps out in the middle of some subway tunnel? Assholes. That's who.
After an hour of scuttling through the dark in silence, she saw the dim red lights of landmines. She paused and pointed them out. He nodded and without hesitation went to the nearest one and disarmed it as soon as the proximity fuze was triggered. He repeated this in rapid succession, securing each and every landmine that had been laid out.
She couldn't help but admire his speed. He moved effortlessly for such a large creature. He returned with a stack of ten mines and held it out for her to take. She took off her backpack and worked to make room to fit them all inside. "Where did you learn to do that?"
"Experience." He didn't look at her, instead, scanning both directions of the tunnel as she struggled to hoist her heaping bag over her shoulders. It was going to be a long trip to Megaton. But a profitable one, at least.
As they continued deeper into the cavernous maze, they came across some radroaches. Leah managed to shoot them, though missing at first.
"Wasting bullets," was all Charon had to say about that. He wasn't much of a talker, but when he did have something to say, it always made her feel inferior. Stupid. Weak. It was beginning to grate on her patience.
After the third mole rat she managed to shoot went down with only a growl of disapproval from her companion, she snapped, "If you don't have anything constructive to say, please keep it to yourself." She glared at him, expecting him to throw back at her. Mock her. He didn't. He only folded his arms and nodded his head in compliance.
The rest of their journey had been in a tense silence that she felt suffocating. Great. Boss of the year! He totally won't blow your head off as soon as you turn over his contract to someone else NOW. Like he did with Ahzrukhal.
One of the very reasons they were stuck together was because she couldn't predict what he would do if she tried to terminate their employment. Despite how much she wanted a ghoul buddy available to help her with her studies, Charon had not been top of the list. I was counting on Gob, if Moriarty would just let me pay off his debt. Apparently, Gob owed much more than 2,000 caps to that Irish punk. Gob would be much nicer. I miss Gob.
She missed Underworld, for that matter. She missed Carol's cooking, Winthrop's jokes, and Snowflake's gossip. Hell, she even missed Dr. Barrows, even though they had some professional disagreements on how to get samples from test subjects. The one person she ended up with was Ahzrukhal's bouncer. This jerk.
If she was just a little bit pettier, she'd have him just go back to his corner and stay there while keeping his contract as insurance that he wouldn't come and kill her. What can I do to make this guy hate me less? Order him to? She stopped to turn and look up to her employee.
"Listen, Charon, I'm sorry I snapped at you." He didn't respond. He stood with his hands at his side, glaring down at her. She added hastily, "I know I'm lacking in combat skills. I get that. I'll work on them. Just-please be patient with me. At least I haven't shot you by accident, right?"
He stared at her some more. "Not yet."
"Yet? You really think I'm going to do that?"
"Likely, with how I've seen you shoot first without taking aim. Your finger is on the trigger before you hold it securely. You also don't seem to track how much ammo you're using, which will bite you one day."
"I see." He's certainly taking 'constructive' to heart. She looked down at her weapon of choice, the Chinese Assault Rifle she found after picking the lock of an abandoned auto repair shop. She had loaded up on ammo but found it to be heavy and hard to control. Because it sprayed so many bullets and she'd eventually hit her target, she thought it was good enough. But maybe it was time for a change. "Thanks for the feedback. When we get settled in, mind coming with me gun shopping? I could use your advice."
He continued to look at her with a cautious stare. "Is that an order?"
"Does it have to be?" Her already frayed patience was evaporating. "Because helping me improve is going to make your life easier, you know. Less work for you to do, covering my ass." He was a master at maintaining an expressionless face. Or maybe I just can't read ghouls as well.
"Very well."
(Necro)
"Water." The beggar held his hand out to her, hand shaky and voice pitiful.
She took out her canteen and let him pour the purified water over his face, mouth greedily drinking it dry. She didn't seem phased by this, patiently waiting for him to have his fill. The man thanked her and handed her back her drained flask.
Charon was beginning to believe that maybe she wasn't so bad as he initially thought. For a scientist. She could just be putting on a show. Getting me comfortable before she starts fucking with my head.
"Who's that with you, Leah?" The man just above the gate called down, hunting rifle lowered. Charon had noticed that Megaton's defenses seemed more extensive than he last remembered. He had been at this trade hub back for a particularly nasty job Ahzrukhal had him do. He was a little nervous, hoping that he wouldn't be recognized. Not that anyone should put me with that kid's death, Charon bitterly thought. The kid had tried to stop him from taking his father's caps. A debt Ahzrukhal ordered him to collect. It didn't end well.
"My new friend, Charon. Are you going to let me in or not?"
"Depends, got anything good on your travels? And is your buddy going to behave?"
"Got a Guns 'N Bullets mag right here with your name on it! And yes. Promise. Come on, we're hungry and Moira's expecting me."
The gates began to swing open, rusted metal and ancient steel groaning under the strain.
As they entered, the sheriff tipped his cowboy hat to her. "Ma'am."
"Sheriff." She tipped an imaginary hat to his. She seemed lighter. Almost bubbly. Different from her demeanor from what he remembered in Underworld. But then again, he had hardly seen her in Underworld. It was hard to catch glimpses of the smoothskin from the discomfort of his corner in The 9th Circle.
She took a sharp left and made her way in between shanty sheet metal walls. The platform they stepped on tinked like aluminum cans. He never felt confident that these structures would last. And yet lasting, they did.
She stopped at a door and fiddled with a key around her neck. She unlocked the door and pushed it open with a flourish. "Welcome, Charon, to my humble home."
He entered into a nightmare. Large panels with their blinking lights and incessant beeping assaulted his senses. Test tubes, circuits, and computers covered every surface. Chalkboards with numbers and symbols that intimidated him with their alien language taunted him. He didn't like this place.
A Mr. Gutsy greeted them, floating towards them with beady orbs stretching out with camera lenses narrowing. "Good morning, madam. I see you've brought a guest!" Its eyes mechanically whirred as it zoomed closer toward Charon. He met the robot eye to eye.
"Sorry it's a mess," she seemed oblivious to his discomfort or she simply didn't care.
"Mess!" The robot seemed to mutter back. "Well, seeing as how you told me to leave everything alone, it's not my fault it's in this state."
She floated through her environment completely at ease. She wasn't kidding, she's an egghead. This place... He tried to not think about what it reminded him of. He didn't care to remember. "So this is the kitchen," She pointed to the little nook where a refrigerator, stove, and sink stood. He was impressed that the fridge was powered. "Help yourself to whatever you want. Just don't drink all the coffee without letting me know." She walked around a small table with two dingy chairs that looked hardly used. Dust coated the table surface save for a single circle of what he assumed was a coffee mug.
He kept flashing nervous glances at the chemistry set and the large metal boxes with their dials. He wanted to keep his distance from all that dangerous equipment. They ventured up the stairs as she began to ramble, Charon hardly listening. She opened the nearest door and gestured for him. "Here's your room. Feel free to make yourself comfortable. Decorate. Relax. Make yourself at home. I'm going to unpack and take a shower at the public washroom. I'll take you there if you want." And with that she disappeared into her room, closing the door.
He was alone. The room was refreshingly comforting compared to the rest of the house. He even had a bed. There were a small desk and a filing cabinet. He took his pack off and placed it on the ground, standing up straight and stretching his joints. It was the largest pocket of privacy he had ever been privileged to. He pushed down on the mattress, expecting some catch in the situation. When things are too good to be true, they usually are. But so far, she seemed to be the exception to that rule. But it had only been one week. He was used to being disappointed. He wasn't going to hold his breath. He began taking off his armor, the damp leather peeling off his flesh. He sighed, enjoying the feeling of his sweat evaporate in cooling waves.
A gentle rattle on the door had him turn quickly, his heart picking up speed. "Charon, you want me to show you where the showers are?"
"Yes." He opened the door, looking down at the scientist. Her eyes widened, their grey irises not looking into his but instead gaping straight at his bare chest. He looked down, confused as to what she was staring at. And then he realized she was probably disgusted. He hid his torso behind the door, hoping to spare her the horror.
"Uh-just let me know when you're ready to go. Here." She held out a ratty towel that was more ashen than white. She was looking at the ground awkwardly. "It's clean. You can keep it. I'll buy some more, in case it's too small for you. Anyway, showers. Then food?" She looked up at him with a smile and pinkened cheeks.
He grunted, closing the door quickly. She was strange. It made him uncomfortable, in ways he didn't understand. He put on a spare stained shirt, noting that the few clothes and armor he had were filthy. His shotgun was in desperate need of a good cleaning. He was looking forward to an opportunity to take care of this. After he gathered what he needed, he left his room and followed the scientist off to the bathhouse.
(Necro)
Leah tried to not conjure up the images of Charon, shirtless. The cold water helped. She stood under one of the showerheads in the female washroom. Decent water pressure sprayed down onto her back and chest, keeping her boiling blood and rapacious loins in check. Yes. Discomfort was good. Distraction was helpful. But she couldn't wish the image away.
Charon was ripped. Absolutely built like a brick house. She smacked her palms to her eyelids, willing the image to go behind one of her mental doors, to be locked and the key thrown away. Something was seriously wrong with her if that was what got her jollies up in a bunch. She sighed, accepting that maybe she was a little dysfunctional sexually. Maybe it was more than just physical attraction. He's this big, strong, silent type. Has a troubled past. Plus, I haven't met many guys since the vault. Well, I haven't spent much time with any guys. Maybe I'm just desperate for some attention.
You could always 'order' him to give you attention.
She balked at herself. What the hell was she thinking? She proceeded to scrub herself, getting all the grime and dirt from their week on the wasteland off her skin. She took out a bar of prewar soap, rubbing it over every inch of her body. She scrubbed her scalp, enjoying watching the greyish brown water gradually clear into the usual murky haze of irradiated yellow. Shit. I forgot Rad-X again. She checked her Pipboy as the water ran, noting her radiations levels had gone up significantly. She sighed. She had some extra Radaway she could use. Shit was expensive, though.
As she rubbed her breasts, thighs, and stomach she closed her eyes and allowed herself to enjoy the water running over her. On hot days, this was a luxury. It felt nice. She missed this. She took in deep breaths and finally, as she felt the familiar dry mouth and headache that came from elevated rad levels, she turned off the showerhead and let herself drip dry.
When she began toweling herself off she heard male voices yelling across the thin metal sheet that separated the genders. She looked up to the wall, her stomach dropping. Shit. That sounds like Jericho. She didn't bother to continue her drying routine, throwing on the minimum to keep her decent and jumping into her boots as she half ran, half stumbled out of the showers.
(Necro)
"Get the fuck out of here, zombie!" The bald man looked more afraid than angry. Charon simply stared at the man who was scrambling backward while holding the waist of his pants. Charon had just left the showers and one of the Megaton residents who was taking a piss had spotted him. Charon simply toweled himself off, keeping his eyes on the man as he kept screaming at him to leave. I was here first, asshole.
Charon had brought his gun, of course, expecting something like this to happen. Smoothskins tended to panic when a naked ghoul was somewhere they weren't expecting. The shotgun was propped right next to him, ready to be used if needed. The man seemed smart enough to know better than to draw his, instead, yelling insults and threats to call the Sheriff.
"Hey!" Her voice yelled out into the bathroom. "Jericho! Is that you?"
The man shot a final glance back at Charon and fled, zipping his pants closed. Charon clenched his jaw and quickly threw his clothes on, feeling less confident that his employer would fare well with the unhinged man. He rushed out, gun at the ready.
He stopped when he realized that she knew the bastard. Why was he surprised? She had one arm waving animatedly as she talked hurriedly, then stopped to wave at Charon as he approached them. "Charon. You okay?"
"I'm fine. Is he bothering you?"
"No. This is Jericho. I think there's a misunderstanding."
"There's no misunderstanding," Jericho snapped. "You made it clear. You invited a fucking corpse into our town. The fuck is wrong with you, kid? You traveling with that freakshow now?"
"Hey!" She snapped her finger at him. "Shut it. You still owe me."
The man narrowed his eyes, grabbing her wrist. "You know something? I'm getting sick and tired of you using that on me. Tell Moriarty. Or better yet, I'll tell him. After I have a little fun with you first. Your ghoul boyfriend can watch, too."
Charon pointed his gun at the man's head. He pumped it, ready to pull the trigger. "What are your orders, miss?"
"Put the gun down, Charon." Leah took Jericho's gripping hand and pried his fingers off of her arm. The man looked pale, looking down the barrels of potential carnage. Charon obeyed, begrudgingly. "Jericho. Get out of here. Pull this shit again and I won't stop him next time."
Jericho muttered curses as he sauntered off, fists clenched as he kicked a can angrily off the edge of the platform. She shook her head and proceeded to wring her hair off the rail, squeezing and twisting while shivering. "Sorry about that. Jericho is seriously the worst." She turned to look Charon up and down. "You clean up nicely."
He raised a brow, wondering what she meant by that. Her hair was helmeted onto her face. With the dirt completely gone, her skin was as creamy as brahmin milk. She nodded at the gun. "You bring that with you everywhere you go?"
"Yes."
She nodded, shrugging. "And I thought I was paranoid, bringing a knife."
"I was worried you took showers without any protection." He looked around, expecting Jericho to come back with backup.
She laughed. "Yeah, that would be pretty reckless." She leaned against the rail and folded her arms under her breasts, pushing them up and out from her damp shirt. He looked away, not wanting to give her the wrong idea. "Hey. Why do you keep looking away like I have two heads or something?" He forced himself to stare into her eyes. To not look down. To not let his gaze wander away from her face. She has to know what she's doing. She can't be this oblivious. "Just keeping an eye out for danger."
Pity. She gave him a pitying look. He hated it. "Well, Mr. Danger, let's get something to eat. I'm starving. I know this place that makes the best food in Megaton. And then, let's drink!" She rubbed her hands, revealing her teeth in a wide smile. "There's someone at Moriarty's I'm dying for you to see. An old friend, I'm sure."
She took them to a noodle shop called The Brass Lantern. Smoothskins, everywhere. And just hanging out while a giant bomb was right there. Smoothskins prayed in front of the weapon, kneeling in irradiated water. It was clearly irradiated. He could feel the warmth on his back. What the fuck is wrong with these people? He took the scene in, wondering if any of the Church of Atom would end up like him after so much worship.
"Leah. It's been a couple of months since we've seen you around. Where have you been?" A man stood at the outdoor bar, barely glancing Charon's direction as he leaned closer to the scientist.
She smiled back. "Andy. Hi. Where's Jenny?"
"It's her day off. I think she's out with Doc Church."
"I see. Well, it's good to see you in a good mood. My friend and I are starving and have some fresh caps to spend."
"Excellent. What'll you have?"
She contemplated this. "Noodles. With squirrel bits." She turned to Charon. "What would you like?" He hadn't been asked a question like that in a long time. He sat there, not sure what to say. He was hungry, but never had he been able to choose his own meal. He usually just ate what was available and what he was told to eat.
The bartender didn't seem impressed. "We've got the usual fare. Noodles, squirrel, instamash, iguana..."
He went for it. "Brahmin steak."
Andy raised an eyebrow. "Can you afford it?"
"Stahl!" Leah snapped, "What kind of question is that? And I'm paying, so yeah, I can afford it." She slammed caps down, aggressive and scowling. "Sorry, but it's been a long trip. And I'm very hungry."
"Gotcha." Stahl turned away from Charon and shamelessly swept up the caps into his dustpan of a hand. "Maybe I should throw a beer in there, too? Sounds like you need something to help take the edge off."
"Sure, as long as it's ice cold. Make that two. Sound good, Charon?" She turned to him, a glint in her eye as she smiled up at him.
A beer. When was the last time he had one? "Yes."
"Great. Thanks, Andy." She put another four caps down. Stahl went to retrieve their drinks and slammed them on the table, leaving without giving them the courtesy of popping the tops off. Charon carefully took his beer in his hand. He felt it was like a dream. He felt the ice-cold bottle, so cold that it left the meat of his palm numb. He took the bottle and popped the cap off with the side of the bar. The beer foamed, the smell wafting a comforting aroma of nostalgia he savored. He took a sip, the carbonation and flavor overwhelming his sense of smell. His eyes stung from the sharp sensation. He stopped enjoying the moment as he realized his employer was practically hissing at her drink.
Leah struggled to open hers, pulling at the bottle in futility. She tried to wrench the bottle cap off with the end of the bar table but her efforts were fruitless. She dug into her pocket and pulled out a lighter, trying to pop the cap off with it. After watching her struggle for a few moments more, he finally held his hand out to her. She stopped her fidgeting and floundering, slowly handing him her drink.
"Put the bottom right here. And you want to rotate it this way." He acted out the gesture and then handed it to her. "You try."
She carefully mimicked him, the bottle popping off smoothly. "Nice!" She held her bottle out. "Thanks, Teach."
He stared at her drink. "I already have mine."
Her eyes lit up. "No, like cheers. Here." She leaned over his lap to clinked her beer bottle against his. "To new beginnings. I hope to not be an employer worthy of your bullet when it's time for you to move on." She let out an awkward laugh, eyes locking with his. "That was a joke. Seriously, though, please don't shoot me." She took a long healthy swig of her beer. "Ah, that hits the spot."
They ate in silence. The scientist slurped her noodles loudly, eyes little crescent moons curled in pleasure. He took a bite of his brahmin, the meat surprisingly sweet and tender. She wasn't kidding. The food here was good. As he continued to enjoy his first meal, he noticed that some of the bomb worshippers were watching them. He stared back, waiting for them to turn away. They bowed to him. He quickly turned away. What the fuck? He put his hand on his shotgun, tensing.
"Are you done?" She looked up at him, waiting.
"Yeah. We should leave. I don't like the look of this." He kept his gaze on the onlookers, who seemed to be multiplying.
"What do you mean?" She turned. "Oh. That's what you mean." She turned on her barstool. "That's the Church of Atom. Confessor Cromwell!" She called out and waved to one older man who stood knee-deep in radioactive sludge.
The man slowly ascended out of the pond. Brown water dripping off his ragged clothes. "Hello, my dear. I see you have a new companion who has been blessed by Atom." He bowed to Charon.
"Yes. This is Charon. Charon, Confessor Cromwell."
"A pleasure. It is always an honor to meet one of Atom's exalted." Charon didn't like this. The way these people stared at him was with wide-eyes and eagerness. Not fear, but reverence. He kept his mouth shut. Waited on his employer's lead.
"You'll have to excuse us, Confessor. Charon and I were just about to head out."
"I see. Perhaps tomorrow you two can stop by to bask in Atom's glow?"
"We'll see, but no promises. I need to run some errands for Moira tomorrow. But we're planning on staying here for a while. You'll see us around." She turned to him, playing it smooth. "Ready, Charon? Let's go."
The man smiled and went back to his praying. Charon felt his nerves settle. This was a strange place, indeed.
(Necro)
Charon had hardly eaten his meal, which worried her. He was a big guy. She wondered if Ahzrukhal had starved him. Or if ghouls just didn't eat that much. Or maybe it was because the Church of Atom was starting to creep on him in the middle of dinner. That would kill her appetite if she was in his shoes.
So far, Charon's introduction to Megaton had gone about as well as she expected. So far, there hadn't been a lot of overwhelming positive hospitality. She had expected to see Jenny manning the Brass Lantern bar, not her rude brother. But hopefully, Moriarty wouldn't be as active tonight. As she saw Moriarty leaning over the rail, her heart sank. Of course he'd be out and about.
"Well now, look who's come back. How's the search for your dad, lass?"
"I've decided to go my own way, for now. How's business, Moriarty?" She tried to plant herself firmly in front of Charon, knowing full well how he responded to ghouls.
"Excellent. Now, care to introduce me to your... friend? I noticed you two nice and chummy over at Andy's. Now, what would dear daddy say if he knew? Cavorting with trouble would just break his heart, I'm sure."
"Who knows? Probably wouldn't care, considering he bailed on me. I hope you'll be polite with my guest, especially since I have all these caps to spend. Otherwise, I can always go back to Stahl's." Moriarty, the snake, smiled pleasantly.
"Well now, no need to be so defensive, lass. Of course, do come in. So long as your friend pays his fair share. And be sure to be generous now. I'm sure Gob would appreciate it." That was how these people acted civilly. Despite Charon's attitudes on her fighting abilities she understood humanity to its bone marrow core. If you paid enough, anyone will start to sing a different tune. And the more money she spent, the less Moriarty mistreated Gob. At least, that was their under-the-table arrangement.
When they entered the bar, Jericho let out a guttural, "God damn it!"
She looked around, half worried that Burke would be there. Burke, who would probably be out for blood when he found out she had backed out of their deal to aid in triggering the bomb below. She had decided disarming it was the better option.
"Doc!" Gob began to wave, then froze in mid-hand raise. "Charon."
Charon's reaction was not what Leah expected. His eyes widened, then growled, "Gob."
So much for happy reunions. What on earth? Leah sought to break the ice. And get some details. This was backfiring, heavily. "We could use some drinks. And I've got to tell you all about news from Underworld." She went to sit at the barstool closest to Charon and Nova, who leaned against her usual corner. "Nova, how's it going?"
"Same old business, hon," Nova's eyes looked glazed and distant. She looked on ahead, uninterested in any future conversation. Leah's heart continued to sink to the floor.
Gob placed two bottles on the counter, hands shaking. "Gob, is Moriarty treating you better? Be honest." She looked into his icing white eyes, which were focused upward at Charon.
"Yeah. I don't know what you said to him, but thanks. So, uh, why is Charon here? What does Ahzrukhal want?"
She blinked, taking the beer and taking a swig. Hm. No piss flavor. Guess Andy's full of shit. "Well, Ahzrukhal is dead. I'm Charon's employer now." She took another deep gulp, letting Gob process the information. She was expecting questions about Carol, not Ahzrukhal.
"You killed Ahzrukhal?" Gob gasped and taking a step back.
"Noo-" she drawled and shook her head. "I didn't-"
"I killed Ahzrukhal," Charon interjected, his voice piercing through the low murmur of the saloon. "He deserved it."
The room went silent, all eyes on him.
Leah looked down at the counter, the rigid atmosphere stifling her breath. She decided changing the subject was the best course of action. "So... I met Carol, Gob. She and Greta are doing well. She misses you so much. Also," Leah pulled out of her back pocket a folded up piece of paper. "She asked me to give this to you. If you can write back to her, I'd be happy to take back any letters to her when I make my way back to Underworld. I think she'd appreciate it. If you need paper or pencils, let me know."
Gob took the letter, putting it in his pocket while casting nervous eyes around him. "Thanks, Doc. This means a lot." Gob's lower lip was trembling, his eyes beginning to water at the corners. He turned to clear his throat and proceeded to wipe the bar table vigorously.
The rest of the night had been solemn. Moriarty had come back in and proceeded to stand behind Gob, cleaning the same glass for hours as he stared her down, clearly eavesdropped in on their conversation. Gob clammed up. Jericho had thrown some caps onto the bar and demanded Nova go upstairs with him. Moriarty clucked at her to get on with it. Leah observed Gob's face, noting the twitch in his eye and the hint of teeth in his expression. There was not going to be much fun and cavorting tonight. Galaxy News Radio played in the background, Three Dog's cheer the antithesis to the bar's atmosphere.
Moriarty, you bastard. She tried to think of a solution. If she could somehow make him leave town-You know what you can do. Just give Charon the order and Nova will never have to sell herself again. Gob can finally be free.
She decided it was best to turn in early. Hardly buzzed and mostly bitter, she pushed herself to her feet. Threw a generous amount of caps, performing for Moriarty's pleasure. "Thanks for the company, Gob. Send Nova my best. I'll stop by again sometime. Ready, Charon?"
He stood up immediately, following her.
(Necro)
"Thrrreeee Dooooggg! That's me, kids. Comin' to you taped from my fortified bunker in the middle of the D.C. hellhole. Ain't life grand?" The radio blared, keeping the room animated with synthetic conversation.
The night grew hot and humid. The scientist seemed upset. She had removed most of her clothes, instead, now in a thin tank top and shorts that were far too short for there to be a God that cared about his sanity. He had begun staring at her chalkboard to not look at her bare calves and thighs, every part of him rigid and electric with a burning desire he didn't like having. Not with her. Not the employer. The scientist.
She sat curled up on the couch, biting her lip while staring off into space. She was brushing her mane, the brown curls drying and frizzing in a wild halo around her cheeks. Her hair went down to her hips, a feat he didn't think possible in the wasteland, where hair loss, fire, and just basic practicality made such vanities dangerous. He was used to standing, so he chose to do so. The space left vacant on the couch was tempting but he didn't want to get close to a potential radscorpion nest. Instead, he began to study the sterile machinery surrounding them. Black switches and red buttons decorated the cabinets. The Mr. Gutsy's engine was whirring and humming in the background. Charon smelled metal and soap. The place was very clean. Almost sterile.
She let out a deep sigh, like a whining child not getting her way. She began to braid her hair, tying the strands in their knots until it became an impressive rope. She then undid the braid and began rebraiding. He blinked, waiting for her to speak. She rested her elbow on the couch armrest, cheek in palm. Silver eyes flashed in his direction, piercing and picking him apart. Still, she was silent. He didn't like this game she was playing. He didn't know what she wanted from him. But a bored scientist in a lab was bad news.
He was about to walk toward his room when she finally responded. "Wait."
"Yes?"
She patted the couch cushion. "Sit with me." She quickly followed up, "If you want! That's not an order or anything." She laughed, that awkward almost hysterical laugh.
"Very well." He sat down, his weight crushing into the already dilapidated loveseat.
"Charon." She took in a deep breath and smiled. He felt his heart race, not sure what to make of her. "Tell me about yourself."
"What do you want to know?"
She pondered this. Full lips, pursed, and contemplative. Her lips were nice looking. Heart shaped. Smooth. "Tell me about what life was like before Ahzrukhal. Who was your employer before him?"
Anger. He felt it strong in his throat. "You're too nosy for your own good. It can be a dangerous habit."
She raised an eyebrow. "Shouldn't I get some references for my new employee? The last one is unreachable at the moment so..."
"Very funny." He glared at her again. He kept getting pulled back and forth between thinking she was some saint-like angel sent from the underground like some Greek myth only to remember that she was, in the end, just another person who planned to use him for their personal goals. It was human. For her case, it seemed vanity was her deadly sin, though. She clearly didn't want to be the bad guy.
"I'm glad you think I'm hilarious." She giggled. "Sorry, I just... I'm feeling lonely is all. Do you ever feel that?" Her eyes scanned his face, searching. Pleading. He didn't know what to make of this. He was expecting her to give the order to kill that saloon owner she clearly hated. But this? She was blinking her long lashes and smiling at him in a way he didn't understand. A part of him almost considered she was suggesting something that he knew was an impossibility. Just wishful thinking.
"Nevermind. Sorry I pried. I'm going to bed." She stretched, arching that narrow back and pushing out those breasts like an oblivious siren. Fuck. "No worries about setting up a watch or anything. Wadsworth never shuts down."
"Unfortunately," the robot softly interjected, clearly within her earshot. She seemed to be unphased by his attitude. He wondered if he started making smart remarks like that, would she be so willing to let him keep talking?
"Good night." She got to her feet, bare legs and arms beholden to him while her braid swished about as she walked around him. As she walked around the couch on his side, he got to admire her backside. Fuck! It wasn't fair.
The sound of her door closing brought relief to the pressure building up in his stomach. He realized he had been holding his breath. He put his hands over his face, his heart pounding in his ears.
