Eek, sorry its been so long. I've been helping a friend of mine with her stories (Aviator39) and I've caught the Supernatural bug so if you like the show check out my profile.


VII :: Asshats ::


He has me up against the wall and I can't seem to say no.

And, before you say anything you perverts - this is most definitely not a booty call.

No, this is me flapping my big mouth and upsetting the very man - or ghoul - I came in here to help.

So good ol' asshat Ahzrukhal got a little snippy and I lashed out - I offered the prick a fair price for the contract. Not like I came in here guns blazing and told him two caps for the hulking monster in the corner. Though, with the Jet making me bounce and talk smack all over the place, I'm sure that ticked him off.

Or maybe it was the whiskey I poured into his lap.

I don't know, I just wanted that tent in his suit to deflate and subtly isn't my key.

Obviously.

"I'm gonna eat your fucking heart out," I screech as Charon's fingers tighten around my wrist, right hand holding my head sideways against the wall.

Ahzrukhal paces into my field of vision and he cradles a cigarette to his nasty lips, blowing the smoke in my general direction; my eyes burn.

"Kid, ya shouldn' have come in here startin' shit," he sighs. "Now look at the mess I have to clean up."

I do find a teeny bit of pleasure in my destruction of the joint. Charon may have been big and bad but I was short and fast, plus hopped up on drugs that make you go faster. The odd amount of strength I possessed didn't hurt either and now three out of seven tables were busted, two chairs were just splinters on the floor and every bottle of liquor on the shelf was busted in thick pools across the old tile.

"I'm sure you'll have your good lap dog here do the cleaning," I snarled, literal foam peeking at the corners of my mouth.

I was so fucking thirsty.

Ahzrukhal chuckled and ashes his cigarette. "Probably right," he paused to lick the filter of his cigarette. "But what to do with you now?"

"Letting me go sounds like a good option."

"Cheeky little bitch," he snickered. "Almost hate to have Charon snap your neck."

"Then don't," not like it really mattered to me. Subconsciously, I think I've wanted this since I got out of the vault. "If I make it to where he doesn't kill you the moment the contract switches hands? Would you go for that?"

Ahzrukhal hummed, ashing his cigarette on his own floor. "Nah, I don't."

I roll my eyes. "Look, fuck it then. Just let me the hell go and I'll be out of your - well, you don't really have hair, now do you?"

He chuckled. "You're a waste kid," he jerked his chin at us and immediately Charon's hold loosened. "Let the dumb bitch go. We have more important things to worry about."

I sigh in relief when the blood begins to rush back into mg wrists and slump into a chair that isn't on its side and rub my wrists. The stench of rotting bodies and alcohol is just overwhelming in here, I can't stay much longer but I just can't leave Charon here. Especially when I see him grab a broom without even being told; its routine, that much I know now and I can't wait to slice that asshole from asshole to earlobe.

"Oh Ahzrukhal," I purred, walking backwards towards the door. He looked back at me curiously, Charon was watching beneath his brow. "I'm gonna make you eat your own heart before this is over. I'm not leaving without him."

He chuckled and smirked, sliding back behind his bar while smoke curled demonically around his face. "Yeah kid, sure."


THIRD PERSON POV


Its 9:00 p.m. and he's on a smoke break.

Not a worry in the world and he likes it that way, though the junkie smooth skin from earlier plagues his mind. She wasn't just all talk, she was a lot of action, a little bit of both. But she's not a threat, not one that he can see.

He almost sighs as he takes a slow drag from a dwindling cigarette, eyes lazily observing the cherry at the end smoldering the tobacco around it.

Once upon a time, he harvested the stuff.

The relative silence around him is broken by the snarl of a laser and he ducks before the beam can hit him. It blasts against the double doors behind him and leaves a smoking crater while trumpet music echoes around the room, giving him a hard time trying to pin where the attacker is.

Charon growls and drops his cigarette, grabbing his shotgun and pointing it towards the doorway into the lobby, firing twice as he makes a steady approach; over two hundred years and the recoil is still a bitch.

As he chases an invisible attacker, inside is a game of assassin.

The rooms are quiet, save for the crackle of an old radio behind Snowflakes station - who is out for the night reeking of Jet fumes - and the snores from the bunk rooms. Winthrop clicks off the light to his room and turns off his terminal, stretching with a yawn as he unzips his jumper.

He swears, for a moment, that he hears the smooth skin cussing but she had left earlier that night.

The doors to the Ninth Circle open and softly close, making Ahzrukhal raise what's left of an eyebrow but he just goes back to counting out caps. Several stacks of shiny, clinky, coins that he would worry about rolling in later. Long day, easy pay thanks to Winthrop and Tulip having a good haul from the ruins; plenty of scrap metal to keep the water filter together for awhile. That spunky smooth skin was supposed to be helping fix it before she ran off. Ahzrukhal snorted at the thought, smart for running off. He didn't want to have Charon kill her, he liked that Minion.

And then he didn't.

The blade snuggled deep against his jugular and Ahzrukhal dropped the cap in his hand, hearing it bounce off the counter to the floor. He heard her chuckling, felt her press herself against the curve of his back, like she were trying to spoon him.

"Clever girl," he murmured. "Not clever enough."

She lurched back as he twisted with a cleaver coming close to her sternum. Her right arm, left leg and chest were still invisible with the stealth boy attached to her Pip-Boy. All he could see of her face was her grinning mouth, all pointy teeth.

The thin switchblade in her hand was twirled between her fingers and she struck out, missing his throat by inches. Ahzrukhal smirked and slammed the cleaver downwards, aiming for Minion but getting it caught in the wooden shelf behind her as she swerved to the right. He grunted as she slammed her elbow into his ribs, fingers slipping off the handle of the cleaver to hold the spot radiating pain.

"I told you," she snarled. "I wasn't leaving without him."

He groaned, leaning back against the counter. "Thought you said you were gonna eat my heart out, smooth skin."

She chuckled and raised the switchblade above her head. "That too."

It came down on his sternum, easily tearing through the flesh and she jerked the blade out, coming down over and over again. Ahzrukhal almost screamed but he wasn't going to give anyone the satisfaction. He'd had it coming for a long, long time and honestly he was just sick of it.

The Lone Wanderer gutting him was like karma.

He had a split second second of consciousness, through the pain and the utter realization that he was indeed going to Hell...he saw her holding his heart in her hand.

And he saw her take a bite.


MINION


I didn't swallow, I spit the rubbery chunk of meat from my mouth and watched Ahzrukhal's lifeless body slowly slide to the floor.

"Rusty," I muttered, wiping the back of my arm over the blood dripping down my chin.

Pretty sure it didn't help...like, at all.

I drop the heart to the floor and pick up my switchblade, rinsing it off in the sink before closing it up and sliding it down into my boot. I lick my lips and grimace, taking a whiskey from the shelf, blood making it slippery in my hands.

"Bottoms up you bitch," I grumbled, leaving a bloody ring around the neck of the bottle.

I screw the cap back on the whiskey and set it on the counter, in the blood, and get to work trying to find that damn contract. All I find is a handful of caps - I put them on the counter with the others - and a key. I roll the key around in my hand, look over at the safe and then mosey on over to it.

The contract is inside, along with a cigarette case filled with jet and three syringes of Med-X; I tuck that under my arm for later. I grab Charon's contract and slam the safe shut, stepping over Ahzrukhal's body and stopping in front of the pile of bloody caps. I just rake those into the box and grab my whiskey, strolling out of the Ninth Circle with a smile on my face.

Cerberus isn't even patrolling right now so I slip out of Underworld without one eye to stop me. I pause in the center of the lobby when I hear the burst of laser shots and let out a shrill whistle between my teeth, waiting while I sip my whiskey.

ED-E zooms in from near the front doors and hovers over my head. I smirk when I see Charon come lumbering in, burn marks on the leather pads over his shoulders and an angry look on his face. He freezes when he really sees me and the horror on his face makes me laugh.

"Not that good a bodyguard," I smack my lips and he raises his shotgun but I flash the rolled up parchment and he tensed again. "Yeah, I'm the Mistress now. Hate that I left such a mess back there but damn, it felt good to see him die."

His eyes flicker over me, his shotgun slowly lowering. "You sent the Eyebot after me," he murmured.

"Distraction," I sang, striding past him with ED-E following closely. "Now, come on. Doctor Preston is not gonna be happy to see me."