Notes: Just a quick filler chapter to get the intrepid two launched on their Wasteland adventure. Will they get ensnared by malevolent slavers on their way past Paradise Falls? Will their uneasy relationship begin to blossom? Will Charon ever find out what happened to his missing big toe? Tune in next time to find out!

Charon

For the first time that I had known the kid, she sat, listened, and didn't interrupt once; had it been any other situation, I would've been thankful. Best option, I decided, was to just do this quick and painlessly, like a band-aid. So I started speaking.

"The first memory I have was when I was three or four years old. I was in a cage with a couple of other kids. The door opened and a man came in. He had yellow teeth and his breath was fucking disgusting; Dr. Salvatore. He took me away with him. 'Course, back then, I was normal looking, like you.

"The next few years are pretty hazy. I think I remember a couple of operations, I definitely remember a lot of pain. And rules. There was a rule for everything. If we did anything wrong, pain was always the punishment. He seemed to always be injecting us with something, but when we asked - if we dared to ask - he would tell us it was for our own good. At first, it was just me and one other boy. Over the years, others joined us. Every now and then, one of us would disappear for good.

"The first thing I remember clearly must have been when I was around twelve. He was telling me to shoot this guy. Just a dumb fucking Wastelander who we found half dead out in the Wastes after being attacked by a Yao Guai. The asshole was really fucking pathetic, whining like a little pussy about needing water. But I still didn't want to do it - shit, I was just a kid. Didn't matter, though. I raised my gun and shot him in his face.

"That was what life was like for all of us. We never knew why we had to do what he said - some of us reckoned it was the conditioning he'd put us through when we were really small, others reckon he did something to us, to our brains. I didn't give a shit why, I just wanted out. We were like his personal, miniature army - and we were fucking tough as brick shit-houses, too.

"Bastard must have been a member of the Brotherhood of Steel at some point, because as soon as we reached adulthood, he whacked out this crazy power armour. He taught us how to use it so we could be twice as tough, twice as deadly. Didn't look like the armour those fanatics have today, though. I guess his stuff was old school.

"Anyway, as it turned out, fate stepped in on my behalf. It got me a way out of that place, although now I wonder if it was really worth it. Gradually, I started to change. My skin started flaking, my voice started to get raspy. I don't even know why - but that guy was ever vigilant. He didn't miss a trick. The second he suspected what I was, what I was becoming, he tossed me out on my ear without so much as a farewell. He gave me nothing - no food, no way to defend myself, not even any clothes. Just a little piece of paper tied to my wrist. My contract.

"I tried to destroy it, but I literally just couldn't. Every time I tried, I would start shaking, feel really fucking sick. My hands wouldn't do what my head told them to. I don't know how that sick fuck did it, but somehow it was wired into my brain that my contract was untouchable - and whoever held it would effectively have the same control over me that he did."

"I still don't know why he did it. As if being a ghoul wasn't bad enough, he had to condemn me to servitude for the rest of my pitiful existence. Maybe it was just to remind me who was boss, even if I wasn't around him anymore. Maybe he just did it for the sake of it. Fuck knows, he didn't need a reason to be cruel."

"At any rate, I was picked up by slavers, and once they figured out my party trick - well, I was top-class, grade A meat. The rest is history, right kid?"

Lone Wanderer

I was shocked - although perhaps not as shocked as I would have been a couple of months ago. Now that I was out of the Vault, I could see with retrospect the brainwashing that the Overseer pumped into our lives on a daily basis. It wasn't too far a stretch to find out that someone on the outside, with access to advanced scientific equipment and a good knowledge of psychology, could do it on a more effective, grander scale. It didn't change the fact that I felt absolutely awful for Charon. I had always been grateful for the childhood Dad had given me. Sheltered, perhaps, but it was always happy and I, every second, felt loved. Needed. Wanted.

I could tell he didn't want to say any more about it - and I wasn't going to make him. He had already told me more than I had expected. Many people, faced with such a tragic story of misfortune, might not have known what to say. I, of course, rushed in with my usual upbeat optimism and can-do attitude. This was a trait of my personality I would, you'll be happy to hear, eventually learn to curtail.

I rested my hand on his forearm; his leather armour ended at the elbow, and from there on was exposed skin and muscle. I realised it was the first time I had actually touched any part of Charon, and for some reason, I (guiltily) expected him to be cold. He wasn't - although the second my skin touched his, he pulled his arm away in surprise. I don't think he meant to be rude, I just don't think anyone had touched him as gently in a very long time.

"Shit, that's terrible Charon. I'm so sorry - I won't even pretend to understand what you've been through. But at least, I guess we know what we have to do now."

"We do?

Charon's voice was full of suspicion and, dare I say it, dread. It was entirely justified. He looked at me sidelong with his milky eyes.

"Yes. This man - this Dr. Salvatore - he needs to be taught a lesson. But not just that: he still could be holding people captive to his demands! They might be suffering still, forced to do his bidding every day. We've got to go find out, and help them, if we can."

I thought I was being altruistic, putting aside my own desire to find Dad to help Charon defeat his demons. Apparently, Charon didn't agree.

"Are you kidding me? Kid, I never want to see that motherfucker again. If he's still doing it to the others - well, that's too bad for them."

But I of course, wouldn't - couldn't - let it lie. It wasn't just that I wanted to help the others that might be in Charon's situation. I've always possessed an inquisitive nature, and something about Charon's story just didn't sit right with me - I mean, apart from the whole 'enslaving an army of children to do his bidding' thing. I didn't suspect Charon of lying, but you see things differently when you're young. I wanted to find out the truth.

"Charon, I really think-"

"Kid, I'm warning you, don't get mixed up in this."

"Fine, I'll put it in terms that you'll understand. Remember how good it felt when you shot Ahzrukhal? Well I'll bet offing this guy will trump that, a thousand-fold."

"No!"

I was appalled at his unwillingness to help anyone other than himself. I had suspected that underneath his gruff exterior, there was a heart that beat the same as anyone else's, but now I looked at him with a new perspective. I didn't like to believe that the only reason Charon seemed to care about my welfare at all was because I held a certain piece of paper, but in reality, that was the only reason. Still, his selfishness didn't alter the fact that I knew wrong from right, and as I held his contract, I was going to force him to help me whether he liked it or not.

Charon

She stared at me with an expression I'd never seen on her features before, although I had witnessed it many times in my life - the look of pure, revolted disgust. But it was even worse than that, because try as she might, she couldn't hide the disappointment that was beneath it. Disappointment in me. It was terrible.

Don't get me wrong, I hadn't gone soft. The fact she thought I was a hard-hearted, callous swine didn't bother me - the sooner she learned that, the better. It was simply that I couldn't bear to see that face on her. It was like someone had crushed the last bit of hope in the world, and even though I knew this place was a depraved, fucked-up shithole, the thought that there was one little girl who still had ideas of heroism and self-sacrifice sort of made it seem, I don't know, a little less bleak.

But even so - even after that face - I still didn't want to go anywhere near my past. Plus, the route wasn't exactly an easy one; we'd have to go right past Paradise Falls to get to it, and that was just the last known location I had for Salvatore. Likelihood was that he had long since moved on - or kicked the pail. He wasn't exactly young when I was chucked out on my ass all those years ago. A sigh of exhaustion escaped me - because this kid was exhausting - and I stood up from the wall. Why couldn't things ever just run smoothly?

"I still don't know, kid. It's… complicated."

She stood then, too, but walked straight past me and back in the direction we had just come. She had her gun out and her head bowed, by which I think she was trying to tell me she meant business. Kid was learning, I had to give her that - if you meant anything out here, you did it with a weapon in your hand.

"No, Charon, it's not complicated at all. You're coming with me. It's an order."

Her voice was low and slightly hoarse - and horribly unfamiliar. I cussed under my breath and took one last, longing look at the GNR building before I set off behind her like a little lost puppy.

"Well, fuck, if you're so goddamned eager, at least walk in the right direction, then."