Whoa, man, did you see that?! That was a close one! Wher-okay, okay! You were right! Charon, the all-knowing perceptive defender, sees all in the Capital Wasteland! Thank God you were here, otherwise, I woulda been bait for mirelurks!

There was a roaring crash as the building across finally collapsed upon its weakened support beams; the sound of fracturing wood and brickwork being reduced to rubble drowned all other sound in the area, before finally settling into a soothing lick of flames.

Yo, man, thanks for saving my ass back there- you really are a superghoul, ya know?!

The said superghoul was casually sitting on some steps, across from the inferno his previous employer had both ignited, and so carelessly abandoned. The bathtub was still overturned; hot ash began to flow in waves and layer over its calcified ceramic coating. The Lone Wanderer and Evelyn were both lounging inside on either end; their faces were black with soot; they grinned dashing white smiles and brandished bloodied palms at him.

A warm weight gently laid over the ruined flesh of his exposed forearm and he blinked, inwardly startled. The mirage was gone.

"You okay, big guy?" Evelyn was sitting close beside him; he had not been aware of her presence in the slightest. "What are you thinking when you have that look on your face?" she asked quietly.

There was a screeching phwing as something pressurized gave way and exploded beneath the remnants of burning bricks.

"I am fine," Charon grumbled, shifting away from her by a mere few inches. She was so close- her fingers were tapping lightly on his visible, leathered muscles. "Where is your bounty hunter?" he redirected, although he knew full well. It was his job, to know these certain things.

Cross was currently on the second floor, and he was rummaging around the disorderly salvage for something to wear; his leather jacket had been effectively decommissioned due to Evelyn's earlier medical aid. Now, he was watching them through a shattered window from above- it was relatively easy for Charon to identify that predatory gaze he felt on the back of his head. The merc was a marksman, after all.

"He's supposed to be looking for clothes to wear-not that it's my fault-but he's probably just drinking, which, I swear to God if he is, I'm going to chuck that fuck in the fire- he's making me worried." Evelyn drew her hand back to her side as she hugged herself, rubbing her palms against her damp clothing with a forlorn stare. "He won't talk to me about it…I don't know what else to do."

Their voices drifted upwards to their spying ghoul, but she didn't seem to notice.

Charon gave a grunt, drawing his thumbs into his palms, and squeezing his fingers over to crack the knuckle. Two sharp pops sounded. "It is easy to understand why. You are making unwise choices, and yet you refuse to see reason against it."

As always, Charon's blunt truth stuck her in the gut like a white-hot rod dripping lead.

Rather than dramatically explode at him with a sharp rebuttal, or succumb to a tearful fit, she only stood to stalk away from him. The ghoul rose, his boots crunching bits of gravel beneath his weight as he turned around, his face apathetic as he caught the eyes of his employer. Those blue pits of fire burned against the backdrop of the wild flames behind him, and they relayed one message.

Let her see how badly she fucked up.

Thump

Those rugged, blood-stained fingers lightly squeezed into her shoulder. "Do you remember Serrato?" It was ultimately a trick question, and a nasty one at that.

Of course, she remembered.

The edges of her jaw jutted around as she angrily considered the implication behind his question, and he tightened his grasp. "You assumed I had died that day- what do you think my thoughts were when that building detonated?"

A shuddering sensation beneath the ruined texture of his hands; she was silently crying, her chin quivering and tears dripping down her cheeks.

Charon raised his eyes to the smoldering flames. "You are selfish, Evelyn. You do not care to think of your own actions for the sake of others. Look at your bounty hunter."

Cross's volatile rage and Charon's sheer disappointment at her actions fucking hurt, perhaps more than any wound she had ever been inflicted with. But how was her choice of survival unfair? It was how she made it this far, and it was all she really knew.

A wap as she smacked his forearm away. "Then maybe I shouldn't have others for the sake of, should I?!"

A murderous glower darkened his face. "Do not act like a child simply because I am right, and you are angry. If you wish to leave because you are upset, then do so. Cross will follow you…as will I."

"Why the fuck do you both care so much?!" The words were spat out with an equal mixture of rage and heartbreak. "Did you fucking hound Adam like-"

Slap!

For the second time, his palm had sailed directly across her cheek, with a little more force than he originally intended. Upon hearing the Lone Wanderer's name so spitefully, his mind forced his body to react in a defensive way. For the second time, his eyes widened at his lack of boundary with her, and he felt regret bubbling like a hot liquid in his stomach as she began to cry. The hand that had laid out the assault was now hesitantly reaching for the reddened skin of her face, but she violently jerked back.

"Don't fucking touch me, or I'll break that fucking arm!"

That blackened hand drew down into a shaking fist at his side.

A CRACK of thunder overhead; the dark clouds were rolling fast, and they would soon be caught in the deadly storm.

Evelyn suddenly felt the sides of her face engulfed as the ghoul clutched onto her, despite her threat. He would take the shattered bones if it meant she would listen to him for just a few moments.

"I didn't," Charon rasped honestly, and his eyes wandered over her ruddy face, as though in a desperate search for the words he was struggling to say. "And it cost him his life- I do not wish to cost you yours." The tip of his thumb then grazed her lip, and he became consciously aware of his fondling. With an abrupt release, he spun on his heel and left her in her spot as an icy wave of rain befell.

The bounty hunter angrily took a drag, before removing the burning cigarette and crushing it in his palm.


"Guess we got a good enough place as any," Campbell remarked dryly, shuffling down into his sleeping roll as the torrent of rain stormed beyond their door.

A callused hand scratched at the rough, dry skin of an elbow. Lydia had an unlit cigarette behind one ear, and she brought it down to rub between her two palms. She needed a lighter, and the man beside her didn't carry one. Charon's eyes hawked her movements almost unnecessarily; his earlier confrontation with Evelyn made the younger woman nervous, and she was afraid to look at him.

The bounty hunter was upstairs, murmuring unintelligibly in Hungarian as his thoughts bitterly whirled in self-doubt. Never mind the fact he had lost his favorite jacket, but Charon's contract was burning a hole deep down inside his pocket. He was the ghoul's employer now, and he selfishly figured that meant the ferryman would lose his attachments to Evelyn...but it was clear that wasn't the simple case. Cross knew better, and it jealously riled at him in ways he didn't know how to address.

Evelyn was clomping up the stairwell. "Did you finally find something to wear?" Her voice was tight, in a I'm pissed off and don't dare ask why sort of way.

"Damn hot," he grumbled, wiping a gloved hand down a sleeve. "Goin' to miss that damn jacket." He felt Evelyn's dissecting stare, and his eyes flicked down to catch hers. "Somethin' wrong?"

Her eyes refocused, and she bashfully shook her head.

His hand automatically went for its usual cigarette placeholder, and he grunted as he redirected his search, fumbling through the new array he had to contend with. "You sure?"

The outfit made him appear…rugged. The ghoul was a notably large individual, his towering height and broad build were already very eye-catching; in a sense, he was the type of individual women of his nature tended to flock to. She could only imagine what he had been like before the bombs had fallen.

The underlaying, burgundy shirt was tightfitting- clothes in either size for both ghouls were extremely hard to come by. The solid outline of his leathered muscles was hidden away under the exterior of an inlaid fleece canvas jacket, his leather trench coat providing the final layer against the weather. There was a holster he had adjusted for his waist that was snugly strapped; it created a bulge on his hip, indicating the concealed threat.

The dark cowboy hat upon his head tipped down as he cupped a hand around his mouth, working on lighting his smoke despite the wind whistling through the cracked window. Nearly every inch of him was covered; the high collar of his coat drew up his neck. Only his lower face was made visible to her, and his eyes glowed orange in their alcove as he awaited her response.

"You all there?" he muttered.

She was just standing there…just staring at him, and he couldn't for the life of him figure out what her deal was. Not that he actually minded it, he liked staring at her, too. She was always easy on his tired eyes.

A snap of his gloved fingers in front of her face, and she recoiled, blooming like a red firework. "You havin' a damn stroke?"

There was a snort, and she finally broke her eyes away and to the side, crossing her arms and toeing at a piece of glass at her foot. "I…I like your look. It suits you," she said rather sheepishly. "Really living up to your title."

The comment made him pause, and he took a long drag before blowing it to the wayward airstream, "Oh yeah?" His eyes roved her up and down, and he waggled his eyebrow muscles suggestively. "Want me to fuck you in it?"

A highly embarrassed squeak, but her eyes gave him the answer. There was a chuckle, and he cracked his back in place.

"You're weird," he noted, and she began to walk away. "Wait, hey- what other kinks you got goin' on? I'm about runnin' out of fingers on one hand."

"Fuck off," she growled.

"…does that one count?" His eyes narrowed in the shadow of the brim of his hat as she stomped down the stairs. "Damn elephant."


The morning had come, and they were met with a large, dilapidated shack. A crude, wooden sign was erected on the front, and the party stopped as a man peered through an equally crude window.

"Marvins Minnow," Evelyn read aloud, tapping a finger to her lips. "Must be our man."

Campbell pointed to the decrepit barge moored at the makeshift pier. "I think we'd be better off swimming."

Cross gave a chortle. "Either way, we will be."

"Ya minnows here for Marvin?" The man ambled over; his long, grey beard nearly reached his chest. It swayed gently along with the morning breeze. "Well? Speak up, mirelurk got yer tongue?"

"Is that your boat?" Campbell asked.

"Indeed."

"Then, yes." The sand-haired mercenary sighed. "We are the minnows."

Evelyn clamped a hand hard over her mouth, turning away as she laughed uncontrollably at the seriousness of the mercenary's tone.

The old man wizened his face. "Somethin' wrong with that ther one?"

"She's a little-" The bounty hunter pointed two fingers at the side of his head and twirled them in circles. Evelyn struck at him with her free hand.

"I see," Marvin said somberly. "If ya got the caps, I can provide fer ye."

They cautiously boarded and began to make the way across. The morning sun was on its journey; the sky was a light shade of purple. The dark water roiled around the edge of the boat; the depth deep and the undercurrent strong; a musty waft permeated the air. The hum of the motor made their presence known.

The sound of vomit splattered over the side of the barge. Lydia groaned, a green tinge to her pale cheeks.

"Not one fer the water?" Marvin circled an oily finger through his beard.

"Was probably whatever you made for breakfast," Evelyn said to the bounty hunter dryly. She had declined his offer of a serving of...whatever the hell he had fried up, and partook on an apple instead.

The merc rolled his eyes as he sidled up to the sick girl. He nudged her with his elbow. "Don't lean over; try and sit down- focus on deep breaths. Here, take some water...in small amounts, goin' to make yourself puke aga- hrm, spoke too soon."

"Ughhhh-" Lydia moaned; the rest of her morning meal was retched into the churning wakes of water.

"Good mirelurk bait," Marvin spoke wisely as he stroked his beard, ignoring the four heads that turned to stare critically at him.

A loud wack wack wack split the silence as the bounty hunter blew a flat, leathered palm against Lydia's upper back. "You good?"

She shivered, ducking her head between her arms and wrestling her fingers together.

"Take it as a no." He dove a hand inside for a smoke, muttering angry, incoherent foreign garbles when he remembered his lack thereof. He spied the girl reach inside her pocket for a cigarette she had filched from somewhere, and he nabbed at it to dispose of. "Hell I say 'bout these things?"

They were soon disembarked.

"If yer be needin' passage back; just light the lamp 'ere and I'll be o'er in the mornin'. Don't travel at night, not safe." Their ferryman was paid his toll; the barge left behind the smell of burnt exhaust.

"Not too familiar with this side…" Campbell studied down the path of the riverbed. "Backtrack?"

"There should be-" The ghoul scratched his head. "Let's keep goin'; it'll come back to me." He gave a once-over of the young woman. "Good to walk?"

Lydia burped into her hand, a weak nod.

They entered the outskirts of the cavernous city; a cloud of gas billowed around them.


Groan

The bounty hunter's chin sluggishly lolled against his chest, the weight of his skull trying to bore him into the earth.

Clink clink

There- there was a cold metal around his wrists. Shouts. His eyesight flickered; his head was just so damn heavy. There was an obnoxious pressure digging into his spine; holy fuck, it hurt.

"Wkerep."

What?

More digging: now he was just annoyed. Those faded hazels were the barest of slits, but he could make out something.

"Thsonewkingp."

Honey, it's time to wake up. Don't you remember? We have the ultrasound today; we'll finally know if it's a boy or a girl! I'm so excited! I was already thinking about some names-

Like a corpse rising from its grave, he bolted upright; an electric tremor jolted through his arms as he nearly tore them from their sockets.

"Boys, we got a live one today!" Laughter.

What- he blinked away the fog; there was dim fluorescent lighting, and it reeked of piss. His legs scrambled beneath him as he tried to stand; he was trapped, his wrists were cuffed. The majority of his clothes had been removed; there was a fucking muzzle strapped to his face.

The sound of a door opening. "Hey meathead, Jackson wants a word." A female voice.

He snapped his head to the side; a large, crimson figure was clouding his peripherals, and he twisted his body. He had been lying against Charon's naked back; they were chained together on the floor; the ferryman had been digging his elbow into his spine. He too, was muzzled.

What the fuck. His throat itched and he coughed. They were in a cell- Slavers.

Charon growled against him, and he felt the ghoul shift.

Holy fuck, the girls. Cross snarled inhumanely and thrashed at his restraints.

Clink clink clink!

"Told ya he was fucking feral!" Another bout of laughter.

"How the fuck are you so calm?! Do you know what ferals-"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, newbie." A hack. "He ain't feral- just pissed off."

The merc forced himself to close his eyes and take deep breaths; he needed a cool head. He turned and studied the rest of the room.

Three. There were three slavers in the room, and more cells across. Campbell was in his own; Evelyn and Lydia were in the other; the third was empty, and they were all unconscious on the floor. Everyone's gear was piled to the side of the wall.

"Okay, we goin' to start this shit?"

"Got to wait for Cue to come back- speak of the devil." The door opened, and a bald man with an eyepatch strolled in.

"Let's get this over with." Cue's right arm was shaking against him. "How many? Three?"

"And two ghouls." All heads turned to stare at them.

"Fucking shufflers. Goddamn ticking time-bomb ferals is what they is." A man hacked loudly and spat at the foot of their cell. "You guys actually get good money for these zombies?"

"Enough for the hassle of it."

"Ey ey, we socializing or we working?" A snap of fingers, and one of the men went to the women's cell. He grabbed at Lydia's cuffed hands, dragging her across the floor.

"Oi, she's still out of it. I need her awake, how many times do I-"

A cattle prod was clicked on, and a sharp buzz electrified the bare skin of her waist. A seizure from the electricity coursed through her body, and she was upright instantly. Her head whipped back and forth.

Lydia suddenly gasped and shrieked, trying to flee away from those grimy hands that were reaching for her face and chest. "No-no!"

One of the men sitting in the corner blew out a bored sigh, licking the tip of a scarred thumb as he leafed through an edition of Grognak: The Barbarian. "Hurry up, Cue. I fucking hate it when they scream."

"Young, would say about older teens." The man named Cue stuck his tongue rudely out of the side of his mouth, writhing it around as he analytically observed Lydia. "Female, no diseases as far as I can tell, not sick-" He pulled her lips apart, careful not to stick a finger inside; a missing fingertip had been the cost of that mistake. "Yeah, I'd say put her in CAT A."

"CAT A, aye." The man scribbled a tally to the side on his table. A lit cigarette was at his elbow in a tray.

"Okay, pretty girl, let's get you out of these clothes."

Lydia began to shriek.

Cross was furiously pounding away at his restraints; the CLACK CLACK CLACK of the chains garnering some attention.

"I'm telling ya man, he's losin' it."

"Oh, shut the fuck up," a man irately shouted at the ghoul. "Givin' me a fucking headache." A skkr as the desk shuffled from under his weight. "Hey, zombie-"

"Get your fucking hands off of her." All heads turned; Evelyn was sitting upright, her hands wiping away the stray hairs from her face. She pointed threateningly at Cue. "I'll kill you."

"Damn, she told you Cue." A man approached her cell, leaning his arms through the bars and making a suggestive face at her. "If I had the caps-"

"You wouldn't do jackshit with her; you probably still can't get it up after-"

"Watch your fucking mouth, Jax."

Cue dropped Lydia to the side, whistling. "Hey, morons, bring her over. I'll just get them done at the same time; she's already awake."

Rrrrt. The cell door opened. Evelyn scrambled to her feet and received a kick in the chest; she coughed and went to her knees. Charon growled loudly.

Evelyn gave a wheezed laugh. "I hope you don't fuck like you hit- didn't feel shit." Her eyes were a shining craze, and the slaver blew a shaky breath as he swung a hand back and viciously struck at her repeatedly. A sickening crunch could be heard as her nose was broken.

"Blghrg." Evelyn coughed, spitting the overflow of blood to the side.

"Stop!" Lydia sobbed, wrestling with her cuffs.

There was a loud TING as Charon pulled at his restraints, cracking a chain.

"Oi oi!" One of the slavers pulled on the collar of the man, tossing him to the side. "You fucking idiot! She's damn merchandise, fucking look at her- that creep in Braxton is going to want to pay a shit ton of caps for her, and you broke her fucking face!"

"What the fuck you laughing for, zombie? You like seeing a woman get beat?" The man at the desk was glaring at the ashy-colored ghoul; his laughter was vibrating in his chest raucously. "You beat 'em and eat 'em?"

Evelyn ripped the chain of her cuffs apart, planting a foot behind herself and throwing a fist back before slamming it into the side of the first slaver's head. A loud spwish was heard as his skull blew into an explosive display of skull and brain matter. The others simply froze at the sudden, unpredictable turn of events. He crumpled to the floor at her feet, and she lunged at the second; a crack pierced the air as she smashed his skull into the concrete wall.

"What the-" A fumble for a gun at the edge of the table; a corpse was thrown at an alarming speed at him, and he collapsed in a groaning heap on the floor.

Cue had armed himself; Lydia cried out and shoved herself into his side, the surprised slaver tripped over. Before he could rise, Evelyn dove a hand into his mouth and squeezed her fingers down his throat, shoving his pained scream aside as she tore off his lower mandible. A coat of hot blood spewed over her person. She then stomped over to the man still struggling on the floor and put all of her force into a dropkick at his head, the wall and floor splattered in vibrant red.

Lydia's mouth gaped open and closed like a fish; Evelyn patted the bodies down for keys. A jingle filled the space between them, and soon both girls were free. The cuffs made a tink tink as they hit the deck. The cell door opened, and both ghouls just blinked at her.

"You guys are fucking useless," Evelyn growled; the dark blood coating her body and face made her akin to a Viking.

A jingle of keys, and they were set free from their bonds. She raised an eyebrow down at their muzzles. "Are we allowed to keep those?" she asked amusedly as they rubbed at their wrists.

The ferryman drew her to be seated at the chair.

"Hold still; I will reset it." The crimson ghoul firmly swaddled her face between both hands, and he gave her a nod. "This will hurt." His thumbs then clicked the cartilage back into place as she screamed out and flailed her hands to the side. "Done."

He then took out his scarf and wiped away at the gore slathered over her visage. Her eyes were a bright, blue sky inside of a dark, crimson lake; for once, they were the same.

Campbell's cell was opened, and the merc kicked him in the ribs. "Wake up; makin' me look bad."

A cough. "What the hell happened?" For a moment, everyone stopped to survey the room, and the tanned merc blinked stupidly.

"What do you think?" The bounty hunter was rummaging through lockers noisily, and he gave a curt nod to the blood-soaked Viking.

"Had me sitting on my ass down here, just waiting," Campbell joked as Evelyn came over and unlocked his restraints. "Appreciate the assistance, Cazador."

"Anytime…slave reject."

"Now I really owe you."

There was the sound of shuffling as everyone reequipped themselves; Cross had snagged the gun from the table and handed it to Lydia. "You see, you shoot." The merc then filched a packet of cigarettes from a drawer. Evelyn rolled her eyes as he instantly lit up a smoke. "What?"

An awkward cough: the ferryman nodded his head in the doorway. "We need to leave."