"Shall I kill him?"
"No…no, just- ugh."
Charon's finger ghosted the trigger; his instincts screamed at him to pull it. The unconscious ghoul slumped at his feet twitched, and it was a good enough excuse to send the barrel of his shotgun down the mercenary's throat. His pride was stung, but that was something he could shake off once the assailant's brains became wet mulch for the grass. Heavy boots crunched forward.
"Charon, no." His employer laid a small hand on his exposed bicep, and she was staring up at him with a face masked by shadow. "He's out. We'll figure out what he wants when he wakes up."
No need to kill 'em, man. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding! Talking never hurt anybody! The Lone Wanderer's voice chattered away casually in his thoughts, intermingling with those of his new employer's. He snarled at the memory ghosting his present situation, and with a sigh, fastened his weapon in its place.
"Shall I carry him back?" he asked dully.
Evelyn had a thick strand of hair in-between her lips, and she was gently chewing it in contemplation. "Yeah, let's take him down to the clinic," she mumbled, giving him an anxious glance. "Are you hurt at all? I can manage him."
A low growl oscillated in his throat, and she raised her hands up in a comical fashion, spitting out her hair to give birth to a wide smile. "Okay, okay. Thank you."
The ghoul bodyguard didn't reply, reaching down with a practiced motion to place the subdued bounty hunter across his back. He paid no mind in being gentle and was rewarded with a few moans of discomfort. It almost brought a smile to his ruined face.
"I think I should give him a med-x or something-" The sentiment died on her lips at the glare she earned from her employee. "Well sorry, I don't want him to die on us before we get back."
"Do not waste it. He intended harm." Charon secured his grip on the other, waiting on Evelyn to take point. "Shall we go?"
A curt nod was inclined, and he dutifully followed behind her under the cover of night.
It was morning.
Infinite dust spiraled like small galaxies across the rifts of sunlight that entered the room. A permanently deactivated Mister Handy lay dormant in the corner, the accumulation of filth over its metal casing like a thin blanket.
FUCK! Cross bolted up from the gurney in the medical clinic, his head spinning on a dime as he looked for signs of danger. When he realized his situation, he only growled at his own stupidity and threw his legs over the edge of the medical bed. His left arm, he noted, was slung.
Ugh…At that moment, he didn't know what ailed him more: the massive migraine that was threatening to split his skull, or the fact that he was in this situation due to a single wallop from the smoothskin woman. If he wasn't in so much damn pain, he would've appreciated her a bit more.
A crunch in the back of his mouth brought his good hand up and left him rooting for a cracked molar. Footsteps on the other side of the door snapped his attention across the room, and he sat upright with a murderous glower.
What he assumed was the town clinician had come to stand before him, her fissured glasses sliding ever so slightly down the bridge of her nose. She raised a hand to correct them. "Good morning! I'm Doc Sellers. You're a tough S.O.B. to have taken that much damage and be fully conscious, much less up and moving the next day! But with that scar on your face, I'm sure you-"
"Where's my shit?" he muttered under his breath.
Doc Sellers dramatically raised a thin eyebrow, her glasses making for their escape. "Well now, you're not going anywhere. I wasn't paid to have you go roaming off and making a mess of yourself again!" The eyewear tinkled as it was reset. "Now lie back and-"
"Who paid you?" he angrily growled, his good hand cracking into a tight fist.
She only blinked at him stupidly. "Why, Miss Evelyn did, of course! You were in such bad shape you needed immediate treatment, and she kindly offered- I think she felt bad to put you in such a spot!"
"Where is she?" The ghoul had a mind to hoist the doctor by the collar and wring her around the room, but a female voice redirected his wrath towards the doorway.
"You're welcome," the woman bit out at him, her face set in a scowl. She had her arms crossed; a long brunette braid rested over her shoulder. "Just what the hell is your problem?! I gave you the money, and you just attack us-"
The ghoul put his full weight into the balls of his feet and slammed them down on the floor, scaring the doctor as she scrambled to the side. He encroached upon Evelyn, giving her the full force of his ire. "I wasn't tryin' to kill you," his throaty voice rumbled. "But you have no right takin' my work after the shit you pulled on me!"
She barked a laugh upwards at him; he was mere inches from her now. The hot wash of his breath flooded down her face and neck. Its effluvium was of alcohol.
"Your work?! Give me a break! We were just passing through and decided to help." The scathing expression he gave was enough to make most men stutter, but she held his ground with her own. "I didn't happen to see your fucking business card lying around!"
If she hadn't previously displayed what a damn super mutant she was with her strength, the ghoul would have viciously kissed her cheek with the back of his grey hand. The dull throb from a mending cracked rib changed his mind. He blinked and stared into her eyes. They were an enrapturing blue, and for a split-second, he was entranced. With a snort, he felt his fury begin to ebb away, and he backed off. The pretty ones always had his number.
A heavy thud sounded behind the woman, and the ghoul felt his blood boil anew. Now that they were all in close proximity in a well-lit room, he was able to take in the other ghoul fully. It wasn't an exaggeration when he thought he was towering. No way there are ghouls that fucking tall. Cross himself was a rather large individual, and his height and build usually kept others from crossing his path. But holy shit!
Charon was his own animal, and the bastard knew it.
A cough in the corner brought everyone's heads snapping around on a swivel. Doc Sellers gave a squeak at the immediate and overbearing attention, nervously adjusting her glasses with twitching fingers. "Could, we- um, all step outside? Please? Except you, Mr. Cross, you need to rest."
Evelyn gave a nod and huffed at the grey ghoul, turning on her heel with her palms digging into the armor plating of Charon's chest. "C'mon, big guy. Doctor's orders." The woman slowly directed her bodyguard through the doorway and into the hall, the crimson ghoul's eyes burning into him like white-hot embers.
Out of years of habit, the bounty hunter patted his breast for his pack of cigarettes and uttered a snort when he was only met with decayed flesh. His milky hazel eyes flashed at the doctor, who skittered around the room collecting various things.
"My jacket?" he gruffed out, as neutral as his atrophied vocals could manage.
"Oh yes, here are your things!" Doc Sellers flashed him a nervous smile, erratically flailing her arms as she grabbed a metal bin full of his gear. "I only ask you to stay another night to let the stimpaks sort you through, and then you can be on your way!"
He only grumbled under his breath as his good hand fumbled around the bin in search of a much-needed smoke.
"No fucking way, come on!"
Smack Smack Smack
"UGHHHH!" Evelyn nearly ripped the Pip-Boy from her arm, wanting nothing more than to hear it smash satisfyingly against the cement. "I just had it working!"
A tiny voice of reason in the back of her brain chastised her for being negligent; a small purr of condescension reminding her she knew this was bound to happen, eventually. You should know better. You're smarter than that. A shuddering breath left her body as she quickly regained control of her thoughts. She was still riding down the high her temper had lifted her on, and it took all of her self-control to not lay the receding waves of it on her invaluable device.
"Is there a problem?" Charon asked, almost minutely. His voice was completely monotone, as was the usual, but she swore there was a lace of amusement in it.
"This fucking thing doesn't want to turn on!" She gave it another rough bap for extra measure. "How are we supposed to know which way to go?!"
"Maybe someone can repair it," he offered, turning his head away from her. He shifted his weight to his other leg and flexed his arms that were locked across his chest, leaning against the corner building of their hotel.
"If you can find me someone who can repair a Pip-Boy in these parts, I'll find you a Mirelurk that can sing," she snipped crossly, mostly to herself. It was her fault, plain and simple. Her stupidity had cost them a very intricate map to use to get to Braxton.
And if their only consistent source of information was broken…a certain ghoul brushed the forefront of her mind.
NO. She spat out to herself, her fury now reduced to a steady pulse beneath her skin. Closing her eyes, she gave a very tired sigh and then kicked at a defenseless tin-can, sending it whistling through the empty air. Damnit! The bounty hunter was more trouble than it was worth. They had trekked through the wasteland in the wake of his trail for days, all for a crumb of information that only he apparently had.
He was infamous in some regions, from what she had learned when tracking him. A damn good shot, and a reliable mercenary that never failed in bringing in his prey. Being a ghoul had only elevated his reputation; most ghouls were regarded with unfair prejudice, but Cross just strode through the world with his own blood and bullets. The gouging scar over the left side of his face was intriguing on its own. She was surprised he still had his eye.
She rubbed her temples as she mulled over her thoughts.
"You could've killed someone with that punt," a rasping voice informed her. The grey ghoul had materialized from her thoughts, his walking mirage coming to life through a shimmer of white smoke. Those milky eyes were peering at her critically, and she felt a shiver like cold fingers tracing up her spine.
A mean glare was what she offered him in return. "…what."
The ghoul said nothing, and rather than the angry expression she had come to memorize, he only shrugged his shoulders and winced. A pang of regret thrummed in her heart. She had really laid into him, after all. There was no point in looking to her bodyguard; she knew he would pounce on the broken ghoul if she merely thought the idea.
"I have never taken such a beatin', before." Cross exhaled through what was remaining of his nostrils, an amused glint to his eyes. "Especially from someone so short."
Evelyn snorted. "I'm not short; you're just freakishly tall."
Cross puckered his lips on the nearly burnt-out cigarette, the lids of his eyes squinting together and directing his gaze towards Charon. The other ghoul relayed a mental message that only men of their stature seemed to understand.
Lay a hand on her, and I'll snap your fucking neck.
"No, he's freakishly tall," Cross muttered matter-of-factly. Dropping the remainder of his smoke to the ground, his heel went to work in grinding out the remaining embers. Mostly out of habit, as there was nothing left to burn in that atomic hellscape. "You from a Vault? Haven't seen someone with a Pip-Boy in a long time." A literal bony fingertip pointed to her left wrist.
"No." She was now reminded of her dilemma, and her brows furrowed in angst. "It's broken, anyway. Which way is Braxton?"
What the hell. The ghoul's face returned to its usual pissed-off attitude. "Braxton? You're not plannin' on actually goin' there, are you?" He scratched at his casted arm. Man, it was itching like crazy!
The woman scoffed at him. "Um, yes? I'll pay you for directions."
Cross turned his grey, bald head at Charon. "That's a ghoul city. You do not want to go there." He looked back down at her brunette head. "Is this about Darcy, still? She's dead. No lick of sense in visitin'."
A spark lit in the bodyguard's eyes, and Cross could see the clockwork turning as he came to understand the underlying threat. The ghoul kicked himself off the wall.
"I have to go, so whether or not you help me doesn't matter. But it would be nice of you if you could just point the way." The woman was either ignorant to his drift, or just blatantly ignoring the dangers.
"No." Both bounty hunter and smoothskin turned their heads to the mountain of a man on their side, his tone leaving no room for argument. Those hot, blue coals for eyes were smoldering down at Evelyn. "We are not going."
Cross gave a smirk. So, the big brute had some brains in there after all.
The woman's attractive face just gaped at him stupidly for a few seconds, her brain struggling to process the order of words spoken down to her. Finally, she snapped her jaw shut with an audible click, and she now redirected her reproachful gaze to him.
"You too?!" she nearly cried up at him. "Fine! Fine!" She threw her hands up in the air exasperatedly, stomping past the towering ghouls that were staring down at her from either side. It was like passing under a live, decaying archway. "I'll fucking go myself!" she snarled.
One hand clamped hard on her shoulder, while another thrust itself in front of her chest, stopping her in her tracks.
"Evelyn, please." The tone in Charon's voice was pleading, something she had never heard from the large ghoul before. It was almost enough to make her pause and rethink her actions, but she had come this far and couldn't stop now.
"If you go there, you will die," Cross told her bluntly. "The ghouls there are not friendly with smoothskins, trust me, I know." He coughed, spitting the phlegm to the side. "Especially one like you. That city is a cesspool for hate."
"Is that why Darcy died?" She spun her face up at him; her braid swung over her shoulder. "Because she simply visited?"
The bounty hunter grunted like he had been struck. Those hazed eyes glowered at her, and he slowly brought his good arm back to his side. "No…"
"Then why?"
"Why the fuck do you care so much about her?" the ghoul thundered, gnashing his teeth together in frustration. "She's a dead woman; died ten years ago, and ain't lookin' to be gettin' back up anytime soon."
He startled backward as tears began to overspill from her cerulean eyes. Ugh, he hated it when they cried.
"It's none of your fucking business!" She sobbed, hurriedly wiping away the floods that plagued her cheeks. "I don't need your advice, or your help! From either of you!" A small hand came up and roughly shoved Charon's purchase from her shoulder, and she stomped down the empty street to disappear from view.
