This is not where I want to be. The whipping wind and biting rain blew asunder upon everything that so happened to be in its path. The bounty hunter drew the hood from his slicker as far down as it would go, the fingers cascading long rivers of frigid water down his sleeve. Goddamn it's cold.

His mind flashed back to the warm bed where Evelyn was waiting for him; it didn't make it any easier that she had stripped completely naked, a teasing smile on her lips as she waved to him at the door. He inwardly groaned and gave a violent shiver. He was going to more than make it up to her when he got back.

There was no use in pulling out the binoculars; the rain was so vicious it would've blinded him. Still, the bounty hunter was careful; he didn't make it this far in life by diving head on without taking proper precautions. There was only one accessible manhole entrance that he had found; the rest were buried under landslides of mud. His hulking form crouched in the swaying bushes; his faded leather slicker provided perfect camouflage in the dull brush. He constantly had to wipe away the thin sheet of water that nearly drowned him. An hour passed as his muscles grew taut and his back began to ache; there was no visible sign of movement near or around the entrance, just a torrenting flood of questionable liquid.

I'm getting too old for this shit, he grumped, his scowl mirroring his thoughts.

The merc made his approach. The deafening sound of the storm muffled his footsteps; he paused to check for any traps and continued on inside. The rusted grate was open; he slipped along down the narrow corridor of available walkway and began to construct his mental map as he stealthily stalked around. The sewers were deep. Small islands of decaying ferals protruded from the murky waters in a few areas; a shoulder here, a head there.

"I'm telling ya, Stede, no one's going to eat that shit," a masculine voice tremored from around the bend. "Better off ripping into some ferals."

The bounty hunter paused in his steps; quietly, he holstered his gun into the palm of his hand, gently clicking the safety off with a grey thumb. For insurance, he wrapped the other around the handle of his blade.

"Fuck you, Marshall." By the sound of it, he designated the second speaker to be a woman. A very young, woman. "You try cooking this crap! I'm sick of eating mutfruit, and if I ever see another radroach again-"

"Both of you, can it." A third. There was shuffling and the clanging of metal. "Just-just do what you can, Lydia. Once we get the drop-"

A mean laugh from the woman. "What drop, Stede? Been staking out the place for weeks and now we're stuck in this shithole."

The merc peered around the corner. The woman had her back turned, busily stirring thick goop in a metal pot over a smoldering fire. One of the men was sitting on a bedroll, nursing a whiskey bottle to his lips; the third was angrily stalking up to her.

"Look, if you hadn't botched that last run, girl-"

The woman whirled to the side, holding the metal ladle up threateningly. "I told you I needed more time! Disarming a damn sentry bot-"

The merc coughed loudly. All three heads turned.

"Sorry," he rumbled; his sights aimed. "Two options: you can come with me, and I won't shoot you. Or, I can just shoot you." Silence hung in the air as the three of them blinked stupidly at the bounty hunter, and he rolled his shoulders back in a stretch.

"Who the fuck are-" The man beside the girl was already drawing for his weapon. A gunshot rang out, and he instantly dropped.

The woman cried out in surprise, the ladle clanging to her feet as her hands flew to her open mouth.

"Whoa whoa now, easy there." The man sitting on the bedroll carefully set the bottle down, his hands raised above his head as he slowly went to stand. "No trouble-Lydia, put your hands up."

The woman complied, her dark eyes wide with alarm.

"We'll come. No need to shoot." The man gave a definite nod. "Get moving, girl."

The bounty hunter narrowed his eyes; the young woman began to shuffle forward, and her arms were shaking. Just a fucking kid, the merc growled inwardly, and he glared at the man making his approach behind her.

"Stop-"

The man quickly shoved the woman forward into him, diving a hand into his jeans as the merc instinctively banded her flush to his side, his blade pressed against her throat. Both drew their weapons up, but the merc was a better shot. His bullet made its mark; the other was a hole of dust in the wall behind him.

The woman grunted as his blade pushed firmly against her. He peered down, raising an eyebrow muscle. "You want to try somethin' too?"

"N-no," she sniveled.

"Good." The merc kept his purchase on her, reaching inside his jacket to stow his gun away.

With his newly freed hand, he performed a quick pat-down on her person, and she cried out as he withdrew a small switchblade from her rear pocket.

"I've seen toothpicks sharper than this," he grunted, tossing the weapon off to the side. "Let's go."

She obeyed him, much to his relief. Cross didn't much enjoy shooting young women, and by the looks of it, she was probably no older than a teen. The kid was smart enough not to try her luck with him, and he shepherded her through the tunnels back to the surface. The rain continued on, and they both stopped at the entrance as it poured. The merc looked down; she was dressed in raggedy clothes, and her shaved head was stained from dirt and streaks of grime. She was shaking violently from the sudden cold of the freezing wind.

He sighed irritably. "Didn't pack for the weather?" he half-joked.

She was hugging herself tightly, and only shook her head. The thunk of his leather trench coat engulfed over her, and she was suddenly gone from the world.

"Can't have ya drownin' on me."


A playful shriek.

"No, you're all wet! Dry off first!" His hands were already at her breasts, fondling them gently as he dripped water all over her person. "You're cold!"

Evelyn was laid out on her back, a golden-brown halo cast above her. Her hands stretched above her head as he climbed on top of her, and he tenderly held her face and kissed her slowly.

"C-cld!" she stifled into him.

He bit her lower lip a little too roughly and she squirmed underneath him; upon his release, his mouth moved to the small dip of her neck and he sucked on her. She gave a shuddering intake of breath and went to move her hands, but he took his left palm and grasped both of her wrists together tightly, pinning her in place. With his knees, he splayed her legs apart and inserted himself fully inside. She gave a moan, her hands clutching at the sheets as he continuously thrust himself inside of her. His dark grey tongue swirled around her nipple; his free thumb rubbing steady, long circles across her clitoris.

Even though his decades of sleeping with multiple women irked her, it had extreme benefit from the added experience he had trialed and errored over the years.

Their flesh smacked against each other loudly as there was a thundering knocking at their door.

What the FUCK. They both paused, breathing heavily onto each other as their heads turned.

The knocking continued.

Cross blew out an aggravated sigh, then kissed Evelyn solidly on the forehead. She gave him a baffled look as he rose off of her and reached for his damp clothes. He saw her getting redressed in the corner of his vision and he grimaced to himself. They had both been pretty close, but he would just have to make it up to her later.

The doorframe shuddered.

Evelyn was faster than he was; she was hastily dressed but decent enough, and she threw open the door just as he finished buckling up his pants. "What the fuck do-" she growled, and it died in her throat as she took in the younger woman standing before her, sopping wet and dripping water all over the floor.

Lydia's fist was about to come down where the door had been, but she quickly withdrew it back to her side. Her eyes then went wide as she stared over the top of Evelyn's head to the lumbering half-naked ghoul coming to stand behind her; she snorted and looked down at her feet.

"You owe me."

Cross narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"I-I said, you owe me."

Evelyn was whirling her head back and forth between them, a puzzled expression behind a curtain of curls.

"Owe you?" Cross growled down, using his full build in intimidation. It worked.

Lydia shrunk away a bit, blinking stupidly at Evelyn before crossing her arms stubbornly. "I need some caps." She then held out a hand expectantly. "I got nothing."

Cross barked out a laugh, rubbing at his face and turning his back to shuffle away. Evelyn knit her brows together, attempting to puzzle the pieces into a whole picture. "How old are you?" she questioned, her palm flush against the side of the door.

"Old enough," the girl snapped. She then looked ashamed and stared off to the side. "He took away all I had. I just need something for the road."

The gears were slowly turning in Evelyn's head, and then the lightbulb visibly lit. "Oh." She turned her head around, glaring at the ghoul that was seated on the edge of the bed. His glowering eyes flitted between the two of them.

"Don't give me that look," he rasped.

"Did you just leave her out there?" Evelyn angrily questioned.

"Of fuckin' course not." The ghoul worked his jaw. "Left her with Bob."

Evelyn gave a thorough once-over of their guest, but the girl refused to meet her imploring eyes. Standing off to the side, Evelyn indicated with her head for her to enter.

"You can't be serious-" Cross began.

"Put some clothes on and go get us some food," Evelyn directed. The ghoul smashed a palm into his forehead before snorting loudly and reached for his boots. She pointed to the table. "Take a seat."


"Evelyn." A hand was outstretched.

"Lydia." A calloused one was given in return.

A small shake was made, and then Evelyn cupped her chin into her palm and stared at the girl. "Where are you from?"

A shrug, and a glance off to the side. Lydia was busying her chocolate eyes around the room, soaking in everything to avoid that oceanic wave.

"You don't seem too upset over your friends," Evelyn prodded. "Family?"

Silence. Evelyn set her arm down and thrummed her fingers atop the table, leaning back in her chair.

"I'm sure there's a place here where you can stay; we can find you some work, Cross seems to know everyone."

"What kind of name is that?" she finally spoke, and her hands came to rest upon the table. Her tongue stuck out from the side of her mouth as she nervously wrung her hands together. "Sounds dumb."

Evelyn laughed, and the girl stole a glance at her. It was a pleasing sound, and she almost cracked a smile at it. "I agree. I'll be sure and ask him at some point."

More silence, and those dark eyes focused onto a particular mark upon the grainy wood. "It doesn't bother you…that he's a ghoul?"

An amused smile. "No. Should it?"

A lazy shrug.

The door opened, and a bag of greasy, undisclosed contents gave a smack upon the tabletop. Evelyn raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you make that?"

"No?"

"Oh, thank God." She clapped her hands together in a quick prayer. He shoved her as he pulled a key from his pocket, and it clattered at the girl's elbow.

"You got two nights. Carly said she needs a new desk attendant downstairs; I don't know you, kid, but I put in a word." He shook off his cold jacket; it was now wet again from his journey outside. "Make it work."

The girl's fingers slowly spiderwebbed over the room key, and she conveyed it into her lap. "T-thanks." A hot, wrapped sandwich was fished from the bag and slid over; the steam rising made her wipe away the saliva at the corner of her mouth.

"Jesus kid, breathe," Cross muttered as they both watched the young woman devour the entirety of her food fervently.

"Here, I'm not too hungry." Evelyn slid her share forward, and it was greedily swiped. She turned in her seat. "I didn't know you had a moral compass." She ducked from his swing at her.

Lydia choked on a bit of bread, thumping her chest and pushing a large exhale out of her nose. She enforced herself to chew slowly, ripping into the meal with smaller bites as she observed the interaction between the two.

Feral ghouls were a well-known character in her book about the wasteland. She knew of ghouls, but rarely had an occurrence with one. Cross, lucid or not, was still downright horrifying. Seeing the walking monster acting so casually with a woman like her- she did not know what to think of it. The audio of their sexual engagement that had filtered loudly through the door before she had knocked rang through her ears, and she felt her face burn hotly at the mental images it fabricated. She closed her eyes and forced the thoughts away, quickly going about to finish the sandwich.

"You dyin' over there?" the ghoul rasped at her. "Face so damn red you look like you're about to explode."

Her eyes opened and she willed herself to meet his gaze. He was perched on the edge of the bed, a cigarette brought to his leathered mouth and a lighter being worked. The ghoul was all muscle, and well defined. She licked her fingertips and shakily rose from her seat.

"Thank you." She gave a curt nod and turned to flee from their room, her heart thumping as she closed the door behind herself.


"Come back to bed," the ghoul called to her. Evelyn was still staring at the door; a strand of hair being worked around a finger and her eyes distantly seeing something he could not. He groaned. "Leave it."

A huff. "Maybe-"

"No." Grey fingers massaged over his eyes. "She'll be fine, if she's smart."

"But-"

The ghoul growled and sat up. "I could've just told her to go home."

Evelyn's finger released its tawny captor, and she tapped the table in mild irritation. "Yeah, now I want to come back to bed."

The bed frame squeaked under his weight as he rose, he then dipped and lifted her over his shoulder and dumped her onto the mattress. Their fingers slowly went to work at the other's clothing, their naked bodies becoming familiar with the molds of each other as they cast themselves to their furnace. When they had finished, the ghoul sat at the table to smoke and watched Evelyn begin to pack away the inventory she had the foresight to purchase earlier; a small knot was forming in the pit of his stomach.

There was only a little over a week of travel left before they hit Braxton; he was still just as blind to her vendetta as he was to…pretty much everything about her. He could reach out and stroke his ruined fingertips across her smooth skin at any moment, and they could make love and assuredly wake up to each other every morning. But all he had was her name…hell, he realized he didn't even have a last name for her.

She had offered none.

She was slowly twining her fingers around the threads of his past life; the fact that she had heard him mention Amelia was enough to make him shudder. He was trying to keep a tight lid over his personal memories from her, but she already had her hands dipped inside- whereas, his were completely cut off. He just about had every curve, scar, and mole memorized on her body, and yet he did not know a single whisper of her thoughts. He had completely submerged into her ocean, but it was empty, and he could see nothing but the open sky and endless stretch of sand.

"You want to know about Darcy Lackins?" The words made her instantly freeze, and he knew he had enough of her attention to continue. "I'll tell you exactly what happened. After we talk."

"Talk?" The word was breathed so quietly he thought he had imagined it. "About what?"

"About you not goin' to Braxton."

Those eyes alit in fury. "That's not fair."

"Never said I was," he rasped at her. "I'll tell you what you want to know; you hear what I want to say." The magician disappeared behind a curling veil of smoke, those milky hazels regarding her warily.

She ran a hand through her hair, clearly distressed. Her feet paced up and down the room, and she looked as though she wanted to lash out at something. The ghoul left her to her decisive nature; he considered his next thoughts sensibly.

"Who's Amelia?" She spun around, her hair bouncing behind her shoulders. "Why is she so important to you?"

Those faded eyes simmered into lethal slits. "Don't change the subject."

"Why?" She dissolved into tears, sobbing. As much as he wanted to shove the conversation under the rug and apologize ignorantly, he didn't.

He had to have the answers, even if she threatened to leave him for it.

He leaned forward onto his knees and cradled his head in his stalwart hands. "Why did you leave Charon behind?"

The question threw her, and she sniffed, wiping the snot away. "I…I didn't want him to risk his life for me." There was a slight tightening of her voice as though she was lying, but he chose to ignore it. That was a whole other conversation he did not wish to have.

"Then do you see why I don't want to take you to Braxton?" he asked patiently, lifting himself partway up to hold her gaze.

She held his stare, and then bit her lip and looked to their bed. "I'm not intending to die there." She grazed her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. "Besides, I can die at any time. Why focus on the what if's?"

He bit the inside of his cheek at her snarky recount of their previous conversation. She was clever, and she was going to successfully spiral him down a hole if he didn't tread along carefully.

She crossed her arms defensively. "Was Amelia your lover?"

The shot blew him in the chest, and he viciously rubbed at his face. "Evelyn, I'm not goin' to ask you again."

A dark shadow crossed his face, and she read his grief like an open book. "She was your wife...wasn't she?"

The ghoul slammed his chair back, thrusting on his jacket and reaching for his things.

"Leave me, and I will leave you," she said tonelessly, staring a hole through him as he fumbled for his boots.

The ghoul was so enraged he did not whether or not he would strike out at her. Instead, he threw a fist back and punched a hole through their wall, and when he spun around at her, she was staring at him unfazed. There were no tears, or any sign of emotion betrayed on her face. She reached her fingertips out and he took a step backward from her. He was pinned against the wall as she continued towards him, until she finally wrapped her arms around his torso and gently buried her head into his chest.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes as she melted into him.


thud thud thud

"Did you guys hear? Chief was found dead inside-" The wheezing sentinel abruptly moved as Charon sprinted past him; he ignored their calls as he made his way to the security station.

It was a mess.

"How in th-"

"Move, move move!"

"I literally just spoke to him-"

"Harrington said he's on his way-"

Charon snapped his eyes to the blonde deputy; she was sitting alongside the far wall as the medical staff was busy applying a defibrillator. "Clear!"

"What happened?" Charon ground out at the woman; she widened her eyes slightly at his approach.

Clara rubbed at her mouth and nose; she appeared distressed. "Heart attack, they think." She nodded her head at the flurry of commotion inside the office. "He just- dropped." The shock was coursing through her body, her legs were shaking.

The ghoul whipped his head back to the scene.

"I'm still not getting anything- time?"

"Almost twenty minutes."

"God-damnit."

The ghoul clasped his hands behind his back and paced about, his eyes never leaving the body of his employer crumpled on the floor.

An hour passed, and they had called it. The body was transported to the morgue; Charon was left standing to the wayside, contract in hand as the mayor began his delegations in an attempt to calm the department down. He didn't bother to listen- there was no need to. He stepped outside. His employer was dead; he would need a new one; Evelyn had said she would come back-

"-hey! Wait!" The deputy. She had been crying. "Where are you going?"

He carefully tucked his folded contract away. He would need to retrieve his gear from his locker. "To Braxton," he rasped, blinking down at her.

She gaped at him, dumbfounded. "What, why? I thought you wanted a job-"

"It was bestowed upon me. I had no choice." He then crossed his arms and sighed. "I am sorry for your loss; the Chief was a good man. You should replace his position."

"Wait, what!?" Clara giggled nervously, the shock beginning to wear off. She licked her lips. "So, you're not staying?" There was a small glimmer in her eyes; it was minuscule, but Charon recognized it, nonetheless. "We could really use you, especially now."

"I do not think you do," he replied, for both matters.

She snorted angrily and looked away; her mouth drawn in a hard line.

"You will be fine," was all he left her with as the rain began to fall.

The ferryman went and collected his things; he made his way to the hotel and pounded away at a door. It opened.

"Who- oh, what do you need friend?" Campbell scratched at his bare chest.

Charon held up a bag of caps and gave it a light shake. "I need an escort to Braxton."