"You're not as strong as you think you are, you fuckin' mutt. Sneaking up on a man is some coward shit – you couldn't even cover your own dick in a real fight." And he just kept talking. The raider was a loudmouth now, but Eros hadn't finished sharpening the blade.

The prisoner was a tad quieter as Eros advanced on him, a scalpel in hand. His limbs were tied around a light pole, leaving only his words to fight for him. Eros grabbed a fistful of the raider's hair and tried to decide what his face would soon become. Releasing his hair, Eros took hold of the left eyelid, slicing through the levator muscle and medial canthus. He made noises as the limp flesh of the eyelid was superglued to his temple, exposing his eyeball. The same was done to his right eye and he suddenly looked surprised as his eyes turned red and teared.

Next was his nose. Eros cut through his nostrils and straight up the septum until all he could see was red and black where it had been. The screaming hadn't ended, but he was determined to see what beautiful thing he could find in the raider's fleshy visage.

The yielding flesh against the scalpel made Eros shiver in excitement. His neck twitched and he couldn't help but grin as the commissure of the lips split, allowing him to tear the cheek in half as the blade slid to the ear. There was far too much blood to hold securely onto the face anymore. When all was done, the Raider was far gone, but his face was alive with expression. The upper half of his cheeks had been glued to hang just under his eyes and the lower half lay flat against his jaw, exposing what was left of his teeth.

The woman of the group had been tied to another pole nearby, but she'd been curiously quiet the entire time, electing, instead, to stare with disbelief at her mutilated ally. Eros stood before her. "Beg for yourself."

She hesitated before her words spilled out, her voice cracking; "Please, man – I'll do anything you want, just please don't fucking kill me. I'll be your fuckin' slave if you want! Just don't end me like you did Cray!"

He squinted and put his face close to hers. "What was he to you? Friend? Sex-toy?"

"H-he and Jaws were the ones who used me, man." Jaws had been the one force-fed wet dirt and rocks. "Look – just let me go. I swear I won't never mess with you. I'll go get a real job in Megaton or something."

"Pinky swear." She stared at Eros, and he grabbed her hand and wrapped her pinky around his. "Come on."

"I swear, really – Fuck!" she screamed as he rived at her slender finger, which finally separated from the knuckle as he began hacking at it with his knife. "What the fuck, man!"

"I'm keeping this pinky. If I ever see you again, I'll detach the rest of you, piece by fucking piece – understand?" She nodded, holding her bloody hand tightly as he untied her. What's worse than dying at his hands is living with the sight of what he'd done festering inside their mind.

Eros had been caught with his guard down. A small gang of Raiders stood around me laughing and commenting as one of the larger men sat on his back, toying with his pain. He told me how soft his skin was as he scarred it. The tingling of the raider's knife between his toes and around his ankles was making his head tingle, his muscles twitching in excitement.

A boot connected with the back of his head and a belt slapped hard against his cheek. The cuts were progressively getting deeper. His mind was slowly getting cloudier. Another laugh and someone spit the soup of blood and drugs onto his face.
A loud, scratchy scream echoed from within the tunnels of the underground station. Several followed the noise and the raiders readied themselves. The sound of bare feet slapped against the concrete flooded towards the group and Eros rose, heaving, from the ground. In his daze, he stumbled forward, toward the ghouls as they made their way up the broken escalators. He blinked slowly. In his clothing, he always kept a certain mask that would keep the ferals from eating him, and it was all he had left to grab it and pull it half-assed over his face. The ferals flew past me and towards the obvious targets – slow, virtually unprotected smoothskins.
Eros turned slowly to the scene – several raiders lay next to their own throats and some ghouls were missing limbs. He reached to his hip for Lace, a sweet 10mm, decorated with a pearl handle. Eros stared, half-lidded at the single remaining ghoul. Its eyes were cataracts floating in its skull, its skin pulled tightly to the thin skeleton. Lace was raised to eye-level. The ghoul ran towards him and folded to the floor in a quick burst of bloodied grey matter.
Dragging himself through the metro's hall was nothing. To the gate. To the sun. A hoarse voice asked for his name. Fingers. What's your name? There's the headache.

When the sun dies, there'll be screams – lovers will cry as fires consume their knowledge, and the raiders and perverts will lose their flesh to the gods. He could hear the flesh tearing – he could feel the heat of the sun and hear the screams of loss. The heat was flooding over him.
Eros's eyes shot wide and he was blinded in a bright light. He could vaguely remember his dreams – Vaults, bullies, and realization. Above him, there were eyes – cloudy, blue, and relatively innocent. "Hey, kid – you gotta get out of here soon. I need these beds."
He shivered as the heat retreated with the disconnection of the lamp above him. The man talking was a ghoul – he wasn't angry, but the bonesaw he held made Eros act slowly. "What the fuck," he murmured. He felt for his chest, finding only skin. The thought of being naked flitted through his thoughts, but he was focused on the screaming, glowing feral ghouls on the other side of the wall, visible through glass.
"You're in the Chop Shop, smoothskin." Eros didn't respond; he focused his breaths to ensure he was alive, and stared on the floor in front of the doctor. "Damn, you got pretty fucked up, didn't you? What's your name, smoothskin?"
"I'm Eros…" he groaned, moving to sit up.