Notes: if I've got any area/quest descriptions wrong, forgiveness please. I couldn't be bothered to turn on the game and go exploring. Bad me, bad! Call it poetic licence.
Lone Wanderer
Charon and I set off not ten minutes after I bought his contract, and after Ahzrukhal had bought the farm. Even though the good residents of Underworld seemed to all agree that old Ahz had got his comeuppance, I didn't think it prudent to hang around too much longer, just in case. On the way, I did try to give Charon a run-down of what we were doing and why we were doing it, but he simply shrugged his shoulders at me. I don't think he was trying to be rude - I genuinely think he just didn't care.
We travelled in silence, pretty much. Charon obviously wasn't one for talking, and after several feeble attempts on my part to initiate conversation - which he resolutely ignored - I gave up. Better to focus on the task at hand. We came across our first Super Mutant inside the reception area of the Museum of Technology. We had kept low and against the wall, and the ugly bugger didn't see us coming - we had the advantage of surprise, at least. With Charon at my back, I suddenly and foolishly felt unfathomably more confident. Raising my arm, I unloaded the pistol into the back of that Mutie's head without mercy. I also unloaded several loud expletives that would have made the Overseer blush. Took myself by surprise, too.
Unfortunately, I was apparently a horrible shot and the Mutant was considerably tougher than I had expected. Before I knew it, the monster was running at me with the force of a truck, brandishing a board rammed with rusty nails - although Tetanus probably should have been the least of my worries at that exact moment in time. Charon swore loudly - whether it was at me or the mutant, I couldn't tell, although I got the distinct impression it was aimed in my direction. In a heartbeat, he stepped in front of me and felled the thing with three powerful shots from his shotgun.
"Wow! That was-"
"There's this little thing - I don't know if you've heard of it? It's called aim, kid."
It was the most Charon had said to me since we left Underworld, and even though it wasn't particularly friendly, I was encouraged that we might eventually be able strike up some sort of conversation. Always look for the positive in every situation.
"Oh, well, I haven't had the pistol very long, you see, and-"
"Didn't ask for your life story, chuckles. First Frankenstein we come across with a decent weapon, we'll shoot the sucker and take his gun for you. Don't know how you goddamn well managed to last as long as you have."
I was insulted. I felt as though he was selling all of my achievements short. I thought I'd come such a long way since those early days, back when I first emerged from the Vault. Back when radroaches were the worst thing I had ever faced! Back when I wouldn't even have thought to put the words "super" and "mutant" together! Back when-
My reverie was cut short by Charon, who impatiently grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me onwards into the museum. Well, I supposed I could bring up this little issue later, when we weren't surrounded by mortal danger.
We got through the rest of the building in pretty much the same way. Charon found me an old Chinese Assault Rifle, and I had to admit, I was a lot better off for it. I didn't dare to think it then, but I was starting to develop a penchant for blasting those monsters into red mist. Charon, too, seemed to enjoy the slaughter - he spoke more in the heat of a gunfight than at any other time. He seemed the most alive, then, too.
When I finally got to the relay dish, I was exhausted from the fighting and not looking forward to the idea of carrying the thing all the way to the Washington Monument. I'd brought some old leather belts that I intended to use to strap the dish to my back, but when I asked Charon to help, he motioned me out of the way and shouldered it. With a little bit of effort, I managed to secure the dish safely on the ghoul's back. I was inexpressibly grateful. Of course, that didn't stop me from trying to express my thanks, anyway.
"Charon, really - thank you so much for doing that."
"Gnugh."
We got out of the building with no trouble at all - there weren't too many mutants in the building, and the few that had been loitering around we had already dispatched. Although Charon seemed more than happy to plough a route straight through the Super Mutants to the Washington Monument, we kept to the walls and crept our way around on the outskirts of the Mall. It wasn't until we were a hair's breadth away from the monument that one of us spoke again.
"You go on. I'll stay here and cover you."
He was already unfastening the dish from his back when I turned to look at him. I was confused, to say the least. It would be safer for us both with the Brotherhood, inside that monument - and I still didn't want to have to carry that dish.
"Aren't you coming in there with me?"
"If that is what you command, then that is what I will do. But be warned, the Brotherhood won't take kindly to my presence there. They'll probably open fire."
"You've got to be mistaken, Charon - they're the good guys."
"Ghouls, mutants, raiders - they're all the same to those fucking zealots. If you want a quick, bloodless trip into that monument, I advise that I stay here. If you still wish for me to come, well…" And the ghoul loaded his shotgun.
"Okay, okay. I get the picture. Wait here. And… stay out of harm's way, alright?" I felt the need to add this, as Charon seemed to enjoy getting himself into sticky situations. It was like a sport for him.
Loaded down with the dish as I was, it took me a little longer to get to the monument than I had hoped. I felt Charon watching me the entire way, though, and for once I didn't feel even slightly afraid of what might be lurking around dark corners. The Brotherhood of Steel soldiers let me pass without any problem, but I looked at them differently now, without the awed respect that had engulfed me back at the GNR Building Plaza. No one liked those damn Super Mutants, sure - but ghouls, the sane ones, were just people, ordinary people riding a major wave of bad luck. I felt a growing sense of loyalty to my cantankerous ghoul bodyguard, and I was in and out of that monument as quick as I could get that bloody dish hooked up.
Charon
When the kid emerged from the monument, the sun had started to set, and she was obviously exhausted. From what I had managed to pick up earlier from her one-sided, high-pitched, and incredibly rapid conversation, she had recently been injured quite seriously - that's why I offered to carry that ridiculous transmitter dish. I didn't think she would be able to make it back to wherever this Three Dog guy was - not without a rest, anyway. I didn't want to say anything - mainly because it might encourage her to start talking again - but I could tell the kid was prepared to run herself into the ground before admitting she needed a break. Dumbfuck smoothskins need to realise their limitations.
"It's getting late. Probably best if we bunk down for the night in the old subway tunnels. We can get in at the old Museum Station."
She looked at me like I had just suggested she go into a Super Mutant camp and dance the lambada wearing nothing but her underpants.
"But… that can't be safe, there are ghouls down there. The mean kind."
"Not meaner than me, kid."
That seemed to satisfy her, and we walked for about five minutes into the tunnels before finding an old store room. The door was too mangled to close, but I shifted a bunch of rubble and old sandbags around the entrance so that I had a good defensive spot to keep an eye on what was happening out in the tunnels. I could see the remains of a less fortunate Wastelander a bit further up the subway; I decided not to mention it. Instead, I hunkered down between the kid and the entrance of our cosy little settlement. Despite my better judgement, I glanced quickly around to make sure she was alright. The way the kid was looking at me, I could tell she was getting ready to try to start up a conversation again. Well, she was persistent, I had to give her that.
"You know, you haven't even asked what my name is. Or what I'm doing out here. Don't you care who you're working for?"
"No. That's the beauty of this little set up. You command and I do your bidding. No questions asked."
"Why? Why do you always blindly do what your employer tells you to?"
"Long story." I didn't want to talk about it, and I wasn't going to budge on this one. Unless she ordered me to, of course. Fuck my programming.
"Fine, if you don't want to tell me your story, I'll tell you mine."
A pained groan from the very bottom of my throat - and the very bottom of my soul - didn't seem to deter her.
"I was born in Vault 101, you see, and everything was absolutely fine - if a little cramped - until my Dad disappeared. Well, I had to follow him out…"
Now that she was tired, her voice was lower and surprisingly soothing. I let it wash over me as I kept a wary eye on the old subway. Those poor feral freaks wouldn't touch me, but they might try and give us some funny business if they got a whiff of her. I'd had the need for a lot of sleep beaten out of me a long time ago - I could stay awake while she slept, and then catch forty winks when we were in safer surroundings. If she ever fell asleep, of course.
"…So that was when I came across this mole rat, right - and I'm telling you, this wasn't any ordinary mole rat. This thing was huge, like the result of an unholy union between a Deathclaw and a Super Mutant-"
Didn't this kid ever shut the fuck up? I figured if I just stayed quiet, looked straight ahead, she might wear herself out and fall asleep. But it just kept coming. Mole rats, Super Mutants, slavers - she had something to say about everything. Ahzrukhal might have been a nasty piece of work, but at least he kept himself to himself - and left me to my own thoughts. No one knew the value of good old fasioned quiet time any more.
"But then I realised that I had to disarm that bomb - and I really wanted to help those people, you know? So I figured I'd do it - and I don't meant to brag, but I'm smarter than your average Vault Dweller, and-"
It quickly became clear that she was on some sort of misguided mission to save humanity. I didn't have the heart to tell her there wasn't anything left to save. And after she had finished telling me how she was the freakin' saviour of Megaton, she finally gave up the ghost. I looked over to where she was and saw her curl up in the corner, on top of a pile of old mouldy cushions. She caught my gaze,
"Aren't you going to offer me your jacket or something?"
"Offer? And freeze my fucking ass off? No chance. But if you ask for it, I will obey."
"Tch. And they say chivalry is dead. Nevermind, then."
Lone Wanderer
I let out a loud yawn as I decided to give into sleep. I'd done my best to engage my companion in conversation, and he wasn't interested. I was a little disheartened, but my exhaustion overwhelmed it. For now, it was enough that he was just there - it was nice to be able to sleep and not worry about what might happen during the twilight hours. As my vision was beginning to blur, a final thought struck me.
"Hey!" I said groggily, "I guess now I'm sort of like that Herbert 'Daring' Dashwood guy - which would make you my stalwart ghoul manservant!"
From the look on Charon's face, I guessed he didn't appreciate the term "manservant" all that much. His reproachful silence, as always, spoke volumes.
"Yeah, well, I suppose it wouldn't really work, anyway. I never really was into the 'dames'."
Charon gave me that now familiar grunt to signal he had heard what I had said, but wasn't going to give me any sort of satisfactory response. As far as he was concerned, that was the end of the conversation, no argument. It was a noise I would grow to despise. The ghoul shifted his body in the direction of the opening, literally giving me the cold shoulder - but I swear to God or Atom Almighty, just before he disappeared into the darkness, I saw that ghoul grin.