Welcome to Chapter 15. A lot will be covered in this one, so sit tight and enjoy!

Chapter 15

Tyler stands there while Elder Lyons paces back and forth in front of him. Beside him Gears stands at attention, both of them have been stripped of their power armor. All around are the others of the Brotherhood, standing in silence and watching as Lyons chews them out. Tyler is already pissed, but Lyons choosing to do this here, right out in the courtyard for everyone to see? That really riles him up. The old bastard probably intends for it to be a lesson, to humiliate him. "You endangered your entire squad! Too many good men have been lost under your watch, Commander." The way Lyons spits that title makes it seem like a bad thing.

"Not only did you almost get all of your men killed," the Elder continues, "but you leveled the vault! 108 was to be a staging point for our effort in the war! Not to mention all the technology we could have uncovered from it! Yet you decided it is best to level the whole facility! Leaving us nothing! That coupled with you insubordination and total disregard for the chain of command in the past leaves me in a difficult situation, Commander! What would you have me do? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Tyler grinds his teeth. The courtyard is dead silent. He glares at the Elder as he steps forward, well aware that the eyes of hundreds are upon him. He sneers, and spits in the Elder's face. There is a collective gasp from the gathered crowd. Lyons looks shocked at first, but the emotion is quickly concealed behind in unreadable mask. "Very well," the Elder says coldly, "you leave me little choice. Until your trial I hereby confine you to your quarters. Guards, escort this swine out of my sight"

With a groan Tyler manages to tear himself from the dream as the image of Elder Lyons turning his back on him fades. He sits up and looks at his surroundings. There are multiple empty gurneys spread throughout the room. There is also an observation window that looks into a dark room containing two highly radioactive ghouls. He recognizes the Chop Shop of Underworld, but can't recall how he got here. "Good, you are awake." Tyler looks to see Barrows followed by Nurse Graves enter the room. Barrows is works as the doc for the ghoul settlers of Underworld, and has patched Tyler up more than a few times.

Tyler sits up in his cot and runs a hand through his hair. He still can't recall how he got here. The last thing he remembers is the fight in the Museum after they retrieved the satellite disk. "Hey doc," he rasps in a dry voice, "how exactly did I end up here?"

Nurse Graves steps up to him and lifts his arm, pressing some device against his skin as she talks. "Your friend Luther dragged you in here yesterday afternoon. You were coughing up blood and barely awake. We have been tending to you ever since. We had just stepped out to check up on your other smoothskin friend, Nick, the anesthesia we gave you must have worn off. How are you feeling?"

Tyler shakes his head, "Not really sure. I felt fine back in the Museum until I started coughing. It sorta just happened. Why? You know what is up with me?"

Doctor Barrows joins them at his cot. "Well, yes, we know very well what is happening to you. First though, let me ask, were you recently exposed to a server amount of radiation?"

His thoughts automatically go back to the dust storm when his gas mask broke and he inhaled all that radioactive dust. "Yeah, there was a storm not to long ago. The face of my gas mask got shattered and I breathed in some radioactive particles. The Doc in Megaton treated me and got my radiation levels back down though. Why?"

"Well," Barrows says, "whoever that Doctor was he obviously doesn't know enough to recognize the beginnings of ghoulification."

Tyler stares up at them without comprehension for along time, but then the words sink in. "Ghoulification." he mutters. He looks down at his hands. Clinging to the hand he passed over his head not moments ago are multiple strands of his hair. He looks back up at the Doctor and the Nurse. "I am turning into a ghoul?" He does't wait for them to answer, instead he jumps up and goes to a mirror set into the wall nearby. His reflection stares back at him. Shaggy hair, a thick beard, normal eyes, no signs of rotting flesh or glowing skin.

"The process is slow," Barrows explains as he walks over to a tray and examines a layout of objects on it, "you likely won't begin to show physical changes yet, though you hair has already begun to fall out. The process is different for everyone. It all depends on how much radiation you soaked up. It could take years for you to fully change, or it could be a matter of weeks. Only time will tell. There is no way to reverse the process once it has started, however, so you had best come to terms with the fact that one day, possibly very soon, you will be a ghoul. In essence, you are already."

After staring for a few more seconds, Tyler lowers his gaze from his reflection and turns to Barrows. "Fine, I am a ghoul. What does that mean exactly? Do I have to worry about parts of me falling off? Will I give off radiation to people I am near? And how exactly did this happen if the other Doc cleared me of radiation?"

Barrows chuckles. "Please, none of that is a serious problem. Yes, your skin will begin to peal off and your hair will likely fall out, but no, you do not conduct radiation, unless you end up like one of those two." he says gesturing at the feral ghouls beyond the observation window. "As for how it happened, that other Doctor only cleaned the radiation from your skin and digestive organs. It is your lungs that took the brunt of your exposure. Now, assuming that you do not go feral, you shouldn't experience any more attacks like the one you seem to have had recently, so long as you take these regularly." Barrows extends a hand holding several small syringes. "Med x, to slow the process and make the radiation more bearable."

Tyler takes the meds and stuffs them into a pocket. "Right, anything else I should know?"

Nurse Graves steps up, "Due to the ghoulification, feral ghouls will not attack you unless provoked. Also, you will now be immune to low levels of radiation exposure. Not only that, but depending on your degree of mutation you may even be healed by some radiation. I'm not saying you can take fifty bullets, dump some radioactive goo all over yourself and the bullets just pop out, but small wounds will heal faster when you are irradiated."

Tyler nods. "Right, got it. So do I ow you for the meds or any treatment you had to do?"

Barrows scoffs, "No, I never charge ghouls." He shoots Tyler a grin that he does not return. "Now, just a warning, like I have said the meds should help with the attacks, but they wont stop them. If another occurs, the best thing to do would be to return here, as quickly as possible." Tyler nods and goes back to his cot. On the way he can't help but notice another smooth, ah, human, lying unconscious on a cot in the corner. It is a woman who appears to be in her mid to early thirties with bright red hair. Despite looking fresh, the bandages that he can see have bloodstains soaked into them.

"Who is she?" he asks, jerking his head towards the woman.

Both Barrows and Nurse Graves adopt mournful looks, or as mournful as ghouls can look. "Her name is Reilly," Barrows says, the name sounds familiar to him, but he is unsure why. "She limped in here a few days ago, barely alive. She has extensive wounds from some conflict. We removed most of the bullets and stitched her up, but she has remained in a coma. She runs a merc organization know as Reilly's Rangers, very respected people. Always dealt with us fair. Better than most." Know Tyler remembers, he had heard of the Rangers from GNR's broadcasts. Apparently, they are the do-gooders of the wastes, while Talon Company are the baddies, and Luther and he are the in-betweens.

"Is there nothing you can do for her? Don't you have the equipment to bring her out of the coma?"

Barrows sighs, "We have the equipment, and all the proper meds we might need, but having everything and having the ability to actually preform the operation without killing her is a totally different thing. For now, all we can do is continue to tend to her wounds and make sure she lives lone enough to wake up on her own."

Tyler shrugs his shoulders. It isn't really any of his concern. Grabbing his weapons, he leaves, saying goodbye as he walks out. Once in the main lobby of Underworld, he stops. He is unsure where the others are or if they have even stuck around. He shrugs his shoulders and heads up to The Ninth Circle on the second level. He pushes open the door and steps in, just as a tall ghoul toting a combat shotgun wastes the bartender, Ahzrukhal. Automatically he reaches over his shoulder and unslings his shotgun. "Hey, what the hell was that?" The ghoul turns to him and begins to aim!

Luther hangs out the window the the Washington Monument with a screwdriver in one hand, a wrench clenched between his teethe, and a rusty hammer in his other hand. He gives one slam of the hammer and the old dish falls from the monument all the way to the ground below. His eyes follow it, and he flinches as it shatters once it hits the ground. Trying to ignore the sweat dripping from his face, and the height at which he hangs, he maneuvers the new dish into place and begins to attach it. He finds himself mumbling past the wrench in his mouth. "Fucking degenerate Brotherhood, can't even protect their own radio towers. In their out of date T-45d power armor, and their stupid nonsense about knightly values land honor. What a loud of bullshit!"

Moving slowly, he takes the wrench from his mouth, replacing it with the screwdriver, and switching the hammer to his free hand. He starts tightening the first of the bolts for the new dish. As he works his ravings switch from the Brotherhood to raiders, to slavers, to Supermutants, to feral ghouls, to squaters, back to the Brotherhood, to cannibals, to deathclaws, to yao guai, to molerats, to radroaches, especially radroaches, and finally ends with him grumbling, "Degenerates, the whole lot of them!"

Finishing up the last bolt he takes the screwdriver and begins to manipulate the dias that controls the broadcast. As he does, the radio inside the monument buzzes and crackles through the series of empty wavelengths. He starts to feel that he will be up here for hours before he finds GNR, when the static is broken by a few words. It wasn't enough to make out, but it was something. He slowly turns the dias back, and the words return, but the signal is still unintelligible . Frustrated, he throws his hands up and shouts angrily at the sky. As soon as the screwdriver is off of the dias the signal comes through loud and clear.

"...Butcher of Reilly's Rangers sending out an S.O.S. to all known friendly frequencies. Ammunition is low and we have lost a man. We are pinned down on the top of the Statesman Hotel by Supermutants. If assistance is not possible please try to make contact with Reilly who has made a run for Underworld inside the Museum of History. Shit, here the come again..." The message breaks off just as gunfire sounds in the background.

Luther stares at the radio, willing it to start broadcasting again, but nothing comes through. With a savage curse he lifts the screwdriver up to the dias and gives it a hard wrench. The second he does, the radio comes to life with music he recognizes from Three Dog's station. Quickly, he forces the cap down on the dias to ensure that it doesn't move and loose its wavelength. Tossing the tools into the monument, he reaches back to unstrap himself from the harness he was tied into. Pain flares through him as a bullet suddenly bursts through his shoulder and hand.

"Charon stop!" Suddenly Nick is standing between them and giving the tall ghoul, Charon, a death stare. "I didn't tell you to kill him, so what the hell was that all about?" The ghoul doesn't answer, he just shrugs and lowers his gun.

Tyler lowers his gun as well and gives Nick a quick once over. The kid has bought some more armaments for his gear, this time adding a metal chest plate over top of his leather pads. "Who the fuck is this Nick, and what the hell is going on here?"

Nick shakes his head. "This is Charon, he was a slave for Ahzrukhal, even a blind man could tell that, so I tried to free him by buying his contract. The second I tell him, he walks over and, well, you saw!" Nick turns back to Charon, "Explain yourself damn it!"

Again the ghoul shrugs, "He had it coming to him. Doesn't matter now, you are my new employer. I do what you say now."

Nick shakes his head. Tyler looks at him out of the side of his eye, "Never figured you for the type to own slaves Nick." Nick shoots him an angry look. "All right," he says holding up his hands, "bad joke."

"I don't want a slave. You are free damn it! Don't you get that? You. Are. Free!"

Charon crosses his arms and shakes his head. "Doesn't matter. You bought my contract, I work for you."

Nick goes to say something else, but a new voice interrupts. "It is no good arguing with him Nick." Quinn steps up with a three beers in his hands, handing one to Nick. "He is brainwashed. He is bound to whoever holds that contract of his. It is a way to ensure the loyalty of slaves. I've seen it used before." He turns to Tyler and offers a beer, "Good to see you mate, been a while."

Tyler takes the beer and claps the old ghoul on the shoulder. "Quinn, haven't seen you since we pulled that job for those idiots from the Commonwealth. Remember? They wanted us to track down their missing android?"

Quinn smiles, "I mainly remember how we screwed them over and set the android on them with a plasma rifle. That was a gory sight to behold. Been too long friend. Nick here as been telling me all about what you have been doing recently. I never took you to be the sentimental type, what with the daddy issues, but hey, who am I to tell you what jobs to take and not to take."

Tyler laughs, a genuine laugh, not one of the ones that just escapes him during combat. Then he looks around, noticing that Luther isn't present. He turns to Nick, "What have you done with Luther?"

Nick jerks his head towards the door. "He went to install that dish we took from the Museum. Said it wouldn't take him long and not to worry because the monument was close enough for the Brotherhood to provide him cover if he needed it. Also said it may be best if he went without us, mainly you. Care to explain that to me?"

Tyler shakes his head. "No, I don't." Nick shrugs and drops the subject, leading them over to a table with some drinks and food already set out on it. "Okay," Tyler says as he looks over the meal, "where did you get the caps to pay for all of this? I thought we were all still pretty much broke after buying all those supplies for this trip?"

Nick smiles, "While you were out and with Luther gone, I made myself useful. Winthrop and I did some repairs to the systems around here. Mostly small stuff, fixing some leaks, repairing routers, making sure the valves and readouts are functioning properly, shit like that. Winthrop and I even managed to cut a deal. Since it isn't safe for the ghouls to venture out, he will pay me for all the scrap I bring to him. Decent rate too, seeing as all I have to do is pull some parts of, well, anything really."

Tyler nods his head slowly, secretly impressed with the kid's work. Without any further discussion the group tucks into the food. "I didn't realize you were good with technology." Tyler says to Nick through a mouthful of Instamash.

Nick shakes his head, "I'm not, I am good with repairs. That was my job in the vault. Most of us only ever have one skill, focused on our place. That said, I also learned some extensive medical techniques from my father, mostly because I was always in the office when I was a kid. My... Father," he spits out as though it had a foul taste, "even took it upon himself to teach me some surgical procedures. He probably hoped I would take his place as the vault Doctor." Tyler watches as Nick cuts a slice of his brahmin steak and tosses it to the waiting jaws of his dog.

Tyler eyes the mutt as it hungrily tears into the meat. "You really have gotten attached to that shaggy excuse for a dog haven't you?" As if understanding that he was being insulted, the dog looked up at him with a steely glare and growled low in his throat. Tyler returned the glare and growled right back.

Nick smiles, "Careful Tyler, he was just tearing the throats out of Supermutants a few hours ago. I would hate to see what he might do to you." The teasing tone in the kid's voice causes Quinn to laugh.

"Oh," the ghoul gasps, "I would love to see that! A fight between two equally wild animals!" Quinn turns to Charon, "who do you think would win?" The tall ghoul ignores the question and continues to silently and slowly eat the food on his plate. Tyler notes that before taking a bite, Charon always examines whatever is on his fork before eating. "Wow," Quinn remarks, "really pushing the strong, silent type aren't you?" Again Charon does not answer, and Quinn waves him off.

An awkward silence falls over the table as everyone continues to stuff their faces with food. Tyler had just taken another bit of the Instamash when Nick turned to him, "So, I didn't ask before because of the inncedent with Charon, what was you diagnoses?"

Tyler stops, a spoonful of mash raised halfway to his mouth, as he realizes everyone, except Charon, is staring at him. He puts the spoon down and rubs his temples. He isn't really sure what to tell them. For that matter, is isn't sure how they will take it either. Hell, he isn't even sure how he feels about it! He decides, fuck it, they will find out eventually no matter what he tells them. "I am turning into a ghoul." He says it without any real emotion in his voice, and promptly resumes eating. If the silence before was awkward, the silence now is deafening.

Finally Quinn is the one to speak, "Well, you were always ugly as a human, maybe as a ghoul your chances with the ladies will improve." He says it seriously enough, but seconds later he, Tyler, and Nick are howling with laughter. "Barkeep," Quinn shouts, "a round of drinks over here, to celebrate." He pauses, then smiles and looks are Charon, "Wait, I forgot, you killed the barkeep!" Their sides heave with another burst of laughter. The other patrons give them queer looks, but they could care less. Even the dog joins in, barking happily.

The laughs freeze in their throats however, when Luther appears in the bars entrance. There is blood dripping from his hand from an unseen wound on his arm and a haggard look in his eyes. "We have trouble." He sits down at the table and clutches his arm. "I got the dish installed, but the second I did some chatter came through. I tweaked the signal and got an emergency broadcast from a group called Reilly's Rangers pinned down by Muties. I owe the Rangers, we have to help them, or they are all dead for sure."

Ah, just when things were looking up for out band of mercs.