Charon had lost all track of time and space. While he would overhear Crown Vic instructing Warrant to keep him in The Box for "another week" after each "exercise," he could swear that it was longer than that. He wondered if it was deliberate; Mention a week, and then lock him up for two, or three, or a month, who knows, just to further his disorientation and confusion.

The torments that Vic thought up for the ghoul were getting worse as well. Sometimes it would be a straight beating, until Charon would cry out for submission and mercy. Sometimes they would hang him from the edge of one of the burnt-out buildings upside down for hours, forcing him to recite typical Slave Creeds about being obedient and unobtrusive until his throat wore out and his face turned black. Once they injected him with Med-X and tied him to the carousel, spinning him as fast as their arms would allow until his brain would shut down and he'd go into a near zombie-like state before his senses came back to him. But still, none of it could compare to The Box. The sheer simplicity of it would make any sadist whistle with respect. Just staying, locked inside, in complete darkness, constantly forgetting that the world as you know it only stretches out half an arm's length from you on any side.

Charon would begin to feel his mind deteriorate whilst isolated in The Box. He felt his thoughts start to degrade. He felt his breathing start to quicken. He would slowly forget about his plight, only able to focus on the fact that he was hungry, and he wanted to eat. He'd start clawing away at the walls of the preservation shelter until his fingernails filed down into bleeding nubs.

He kept himself sane - as sane as he could - by clinging to his memory of Helike. Whenever he would feel his mind start to go, he would think to himself, "No, I won't let these bastards win. I'm going to get out of here someday and find him again. I know it. I know it.

I know it."

There was one day in particular that had impacted Charon the most. Warrant unlocked The Box and pulled him out, but had curiously brought him over to the Slave Pen, where the other captives were kept. The monstrosity of a man opened the cage and, without a word, shoved Charon in, locking the gate behind him.

"Am I..." Charon thought aloud. "Are you going to...To let me out of The Box?" He turned to look at Warrant for confirmation, but he remained silent. He eventually turned his back on the pen completely, seemingly uncaring about the ghoul. He felt a smile begin to stretch over his cracked and flaked skin. Okay, it wasn't as good as escape, but it seemed to be indicative that Vic had given up on trying to break him. Now he was just another slave. It filled him with hope, something he, well, he never felt in his entire life.

He turned to his fellow hostages, almost beaming.

"Guys, we can beat this." He said, optimism in his voice. " I broke the leader of this whole damn place before he broke me. We can tough it out, and we can get out of here." Charon stepped towards them, and watched them all immediately jump back. He cocked his brow. "Come on, guys, I've been here for months now. You've got to be used to my appearance. Look, we've got to get past this and work together." He tried moving forward again. The rest of the slaves scattered away from him. His smile soured into a frown. "What is wrong with you guys?"

"It isn't about your face. At least, not anymore." A familiar man stood up from his sitting position and walked towards Charon. It was the first slave he had ever talked to, the one who had advised him against making a scene in front of Crown Vic; Advice that, dwelling upon it now, was better than the ghoul had first judged.

"What the Hell do you mean? If it's not about my looks, then what are they afraid of? They don't know me." Charon said, annoyed and confused.

"Definitely not. But they know of you." The slave answered back.

"What is that supposed to mean? Stop with the riddles, jackass."

"First, my name's not 'Jackass.' It's Reese." The slave corrected. "And second, the last time any of these people - well, the people who were around when you first got here - saw you was your outburst against Vic."

"Yeah? I managed to kill five of the bastards. Pretty good if I say so myself."

"You killed three that had been at Vic's side. Then you turned and started shooting at the slavers who were in the line with you." Reese cocked his brow in a 'how are you not getting this?' expression.

"....And?" Charon asked, genuinely not getting it.

"Collateral damage, my friend. Your assault on the slavers in the line managed to accidentally kill three of the slaves." Charon felt a chill run up his spine. He had never realized that before. That day, he had been running purely on instinct, he had not thought about any of it. He really murdered three of his fellow captives?

Reese continued.

"They put you in The Box, and started spreading some pretty fierce propaganda against you. How you were a crazed monster, craving bloodshed and murder. How they were protecting us from your homicidal psychosis by keeping you locked up. Rumors spread to the new slaves that got captured, the tale of the caged beast in the preservation shelter. You've become the local boogeyman."

Charon felt sick. This was the exact opposite of everything he had been doing. Everything he had been working for. Everything that was keeping him sane in The Box. The slavers had become the heroes, and he had become the villain. Everything was wrong.

"I'm not a monster!" He shouted in defiance. He marched past Reese, towards the other slaves. "I'm perfectly normal! I didn't mean it! I didn't!" But they were hearing nothing of it. They would scream as he approached, running into the room at the back of the cage. When it was Charon and Reese alone outside, in the pen, the ghoul heard the lock click shut.

"Sorry, but it's worthless to bother, now." Reese turned to Charon. "I told you, these are all malleable souls, and they've been getting fed these ghost stories for years now."

Charon felt another bolt race up his back. He did a full one-hundred-and-eighty degree spin, kicking up dirt and dust all around him.

"Years?!" He shouted in surprise. "No, no, that can't be! I've only been here for a few months!"

Reese became visibly saddened at the news he was about to convey. "I'm sorry, but loss of time is just something that happens when you're put in The Box for any duration. You've been a lot longer than a few months." Charon stared holes into Reese, waiting for the continuation of this thought. The slave reluctantly trudged on. "You've...You've been here for..." He trailed off, honestly not wanting to finish the sentence.

"...For?!" Charon demanded. Reese looked away, not wanting to make eye contact. "FOR?!" The ghoul shouted.

"...Five years."

Charon felt control of his body leave him. He fell to his knees, the overwhelming sensation inside him that his heart was going to stop and he was going to die, and then this horrible nightmare would come to an end.

"Five....Years..." He repeated, having to say it himself to even comprehend the enormity of it all. He felt his muscles contort as he curled up into a fetal position Take him now, vengeful god, he pleaded, your torment has gone on enough. Smite him into a million particles of ash, spread them across the irradiated seas, just make it end. Just make it end now.

He heard the gate swing open behind him. Reese quietly shuffled away as the ghoul was picked up by Warrant once more. As he was dragged, unresponsive, back to his home in The Box, he realized how deep that Crown Vic's sadistic genius truly dug, and his fear for the unassuming man multiplied in orders of magnitude.

Warrant set Charon down right outside the open door to the preservation shelter, and without a word, the ghoul stepped inside, staring aimlessly at the gunmetal grey wall as the familiar darkness once again encapsulated him.

.

.

.

Charon stood, still and quiet, as Vic walked around him in circles, rubbing his chin contemplatively. The ghoul did not know how long it had been since when he was put in the Slave Pens again, but he did not care. Time didn't mean much to him anymore. Nothing did.

"Tell me, Charon," Crown Vic started finally after a long, stiff silence. "Is there anything that means a lot to you?"

"Material possessions are vices unless given as gifts of good will from a person of superior status." Charon replied almost immediately. His expression did not change, even though he had been made to repeat that exact phrase hundreds of times now.

"Good, good, but I was not talking about the material world. I mean are there any values that mean anything to you? Truth? Justice? Loyalty?" He probed further. Charon's eyes lit up at the mention of the word 'loyalty.' He flashed back to his last day with Helike, hunting Mole Rats in the hills.

"Fighting prowess and strength is important, yes, but the most important thing that a soldier could ever have is loyalty." He parroted Helike's words to the best of his memory. Vic turned to look at him, intensely interested in apparently hitting a hot-button word.

"Indeed it is." He replied, rolling with what Charon had given him. "But it is important to know who you are loyal to, right?"

"Loyalty to your country, your platoon, and your comrades." Charon parroted once more. Vic wondered if he had found an old army book and memorized the propaganda inside.

"Are you loyal to me, Charon?" Crown asked. Charon's fingers balled into a fist.

"Yes." He stated.

"Are you sure?" There was a short silence.

"I am sure." The ghoul finally admitted.

"Well then, how about we make your loyalty to me official?" The Slaver Boss asked. Charon looked down at him.

"How so?"

"Well, kid, you see, loyalty isn't something that can be seen, or heard, or felt. It's there, sure, but how do we know it's there, you understand? What I'm proposing is that we write up a contract, one that says that, as long as I hold it, you will remain loyal to me." Crown gave a toothy smile. Charon felt his finger tips digging into the skin of his palm.

"If you think that's best, then I agree."

"Perfect. I'll go fetch Baron then, and have him write everything up. Stay here while I go find him." Crown left the room, not bothering to close the door to outside behind him. Charon stood still and waited.

The process took very little time, and soon a large document emblazoned at the top with a flamboyant "CHARON'S CONTRACT" had been penned. Crown Vic picked the parchment up after it was done and skimmed it, though Charon wondered if he was just pretending like he was checking for errors.

"Ah, it's perfect. Now all you need to do is sign it, Charon." Vic held the pen out for the ghoul to take. He wordlessly plucked it from his hand and signed "CHARON" in crude letters, knowing only the basics of literacy thanks to his young age when the bombs had fallen. "Good!" Vic pulled the paper out from under Charon's nose and rolled it up. "It's all done!"

"Aren't you going to sign it?" The ghoul asked. Vic chuckled a bit as he stuffed the parchment into one of the many pockets lining the inside of his duster.

"Your signature is quite enough, Charon. Remember, you're a...bodyguard for hire." Vic dodged around the operative word, though Charon wasn't sure why. It wasn't like it was a secret. "So if someone else hires you, I can just give them this document instead of them having to write up a new one to sign."

"I see." The ghoul answered tersely.

"I knew you would. Now that you've signed this oath to me, stating that you will be my loyal and honorable guard, I need to ask something of you, my boy. Something important." Vic said as he motioned for Baron to leave the room, which the slaver promptly did, closing the door behind him.

"I am listening."

"We have a certain...disloyalty problem, among the slaves in the pen." Vic concealed a smirk when he saw Charon cringe slightly at the word 'disloyalty.' He continued. "There's a certain slave there that we have had for years now. Nobody will give him a good home, he refuses to listen to us, and he sews dissent among the other slaves." Crown turned from Charon and walked to a large cabinet in the back of the room, which he unlocked with a key produced from one of his many pockets. He swung the door open, revealing a wealth of weaponry and ammunition inside.

Vic continued.

"I want him taken care of. To die." He pulled a combat shotgun out from the gun cabinet and loaded a drum into the magazine, turning back to Charon. He walked over to the ghoul.

"I think you may know him. His name is Reese." He held the gun out to him.

Charon knew what Vic was doing. He wanted Reese dead, but he wanted the ghoul to do it. To have a slaver kill a slave would be bad for the morale of everyone, but to have a fellow slave to do it, especially the slave known as the monster that they have to keep locked in The Box, that'll just be par for the course. He knew that Reese was the only slave that Charon had done anything close to befriending, as well, and this would be the ultimate show of submission and loyalty to him. This bastard, this demon in a dress-shirt who had tortured Charon in every possible physical and emotional way for years, was handing him a loaded gun, and telling him what to do.

Charon took the gun from Vic's hand and looked him in the face.

"It will be done." He assured, turning and walking out the door.

Charon trudged silently from Vic's quarters to the Slave Pen, where Warrant was standing watch as per usual. The mammoth man gave the ghoul an odd look as he approached.

"Master Vic needs me to complete a task inside the pen." He said, expressionless. Warrant looked him over, paying special attention to the gun he was now in possession of.

"If he needed to open the gates, he'd have told me himself." Warrant responded.

"You can go and verify with him if you would like, but if you leave this area without opening the gate, it will be in direct violation of Master Vic's wishes, and you may find yourself with a suddenly startling dearth of working organs." Charon stared into Warrant's eyes with a piercing gaze. Warrant, while not particularly moved by the threat, knew that at this point, if the ghoul had tried to act up, he would have already known.

"Alright, alright. Just don't start any shit." He relented, unlocking the door to the pen for Charon. He walked in wordlessly, not reacting at all when every slave that saw him back off in fright, many running back into their common house as per usual.

"They let you back into the pens?" Reese suddenly appeared from whatever spot he had taken to hiding to, walking up to Charon from behind. He didn't have time to react when he noticed the gun in the ghoul's hands as he turned around and, without so much as a grunt, unloaded a shell of buckshot into the slave's torso. Reese fumbled backwards and hit the ground, unmoving. Any other slaves that had yet to flee into the Common House screamed and did exactly that, and Warrant was already charging inside as the ghoul turned to make his exit.

"What in the FUCK did you do?!" He shouted in disbelief. Charon simply walked past him, not deigning to answer his question (partly because it was obvious that he had just shot and killed someone). Warrant, not satisfied with the ghoul's taciturnity, grabbed him on the shoulder and spun him around. Charon allowed it to happen, pumping the empty shell from his gun mid-spin and jamming the end under Warrant's chin as he completed it.

"I am sorry that I could not respect your wishes to 'not start shit,' but my loyalty is not with you." He said tersely, poking the barrel further into the man's neck, causing him to gag.

"Charon!" A voice called from a ways away. The ghoul relented immediately, recognizing the voice as Vic's. He turned. "Come back here, right now! What did you do?!" He asked in a very convincing display of shock and awe. He ran as fast as his legs could take him, weighed down by God-knows-how-many-pounds of metal and jewelry, taking a ball of the ghoul's shirt in his fist and pulling him toward him. "What the Hell did you do?!"

"He just fucking killed one of the slave's, Crown!" Warrant explained, exasperated.

"Is this true?!" Vic asked, looking right into Charon's eyes. Once again, the ghoul knew what game the slave-owner was playing at.

"Yes. Reese is dead." He answered flatly.

"You psychotic fucking zombie!" Vic backhanded him, hard. "What in the fuck is your problem?!"

"I told you we should have killed him, Crown! I told you!" Warrant testified.

"It looks like all our little behavioral exercises have been startling failures on this ingrate! We're just going to have to think of some new ones, won't we? Now come here you ugly fucker, you're lucky I don't charge you for that god damn slave!" Vic pulled Charon along, back to his quarters, to administer a savage beating, the ghoul's reward for a job well done.

.

.

.

The incident of Reese's murder was now nothing but a distant memory to Charon, the first of a long line of atrocities that he committed because of his loyalty to Vic. He found each new act that Crown made him do, no matter how morally disgusting, became easier and easier. At least he wasn't one of the poor, broken spirited fools in the pen, sputtering all day, waiting to be sold to an owner who won't find half as much use for them as Vic had for his personal ghoul "bodyguard."

Charon stood silently at the door to Vic's quarters. It was the dead of night, and Crown was asleep. Charon rarely slept, anymore. He figured that it was a lingering side effect from all his years in The Box. His sleep pattern became decimated when he couldn't tell night from day, and just never caught back up.

His shotgun was in his hands and trained immediately at the window when he heard the creak. There were many creaks and crumbles as the house settled all the time, and for each one, he would whip out his gun and be ready to shoot any invisible ghosts or demons that may have been the cause of it. This certain creak was different, though.

"Who goes there?" Charon said into the darkness, ignoring the clicheness of the line.

"Kid?" A disembodied voice asked quietly towards him. "Kid, is it you?"

Charon felt his jaw go slack, his shotgun almost slip out of his hands.

"He...Helike?" He asked back.

"It is you!" The voice said joyously. Helike walked out of the shadows and hugged him immediately. Charon did not know how to reciprocate, such feelings like happiness and joy being lost to him for the longest time now.

"Helike...But how? How did you-"

"You were gone when I woke up, kid." He explained, his voice faltering a bit as he apparently was weeping with joy. "I managed to follow your tracks though to a spot where it looked like there was a struggle with a bunch of other human opponents. There was blood everywhere, and the footprints looked like someone had been dragged away. For the first time since the bombs dropped, I sought out others for help and eventually learned about the slavers at Paradise Falls. I've been looking for it ever since."

"Helike...You're really here." Charon felt himself deeply in disbelief.

"I am, kid. I really am." He finally disengaged the passionate embrace, turning towards the window that he had entered from. "Now come on, security's light, it's real easy to sneak past 'em. Let's get out of here." He took a few steps forward, quickly realizing that Charon was not following. "Come on!" He repeated.

"Helike, I...I can't." The captive ghoul said reluctantly.

"What do you mean, 'you can't?' What, do they have a bomb strapped to you or something? Come on!"

"No...I...I have an oath...An oath to Master Vic." A deeply serious and mystified expression spread over Helike's face.

"Kid, what the Hell are you talking about? What oath?"

"I am..." Charon found it immensely hard to continue, but kept on. "...I am honor-bound to protect and to serve him."

Helike walked over to his adoptive son and put both hands on his face, looking at him straight in the eyes.

"My God...What kind of brainwashing did they do to you?"

"It's not brainwashing." Charon snapped. "It's just...I have to. I have to serve him, he is keeping me from rotting in the pens, or in The Box."

"You're willingly serving the guy who ENSLAVED you because he isn't quite as bad to you as he is to the others? Do you know how crazy that sounds?!"

Charon was silent.

Both ghouls in the room turned suddenly as the light flicked on.

"Well Holy Hell." Crown leaned against the doorway in a black robe, his arms crossed, looking at the sight in front of him. "What is this, some sort of family reunion?"

"Is this the bastard? This Vic guy?" Helike asked. Charon remained reticent.

"I am Crown Vic, if that's what you're asking." Crown answered with a smirk. "And who might you be?"

"The guy who's gonna kick your ass, that's who." He stepped forward, bowing up his shoulders.

"Don't!" Charon took a step to come between Vic and Helike.

"Kid..." Helike murmured, disbelievingly.

"Well then, Charon, you tell me; Who is this crazy character?" Vic asked, knowing that his ghoul slave would provide him with answers. Charon breathed deeply.

"His name is Helike, Master Vic. He raised me in the Wastes, before I was brought here."

"And now I've come to take him back. I'll kill every one of you fuckers if I have to!" Helike growled.

Vic gave a surprised "Ugh!". "So you're saying you're going to steal away Charon's comfortable shelter and source of food to take him out into the desert so you can try to hunt disgusting, mutated beasts for a living? I won't allow such a disservice to my best bodyguard to happen!" He said, mock-offended. "Charon, kill him."

Charon looked quickly between his adoptive father and his master.

"Master Vic, please..." He started.

"Are you being disloyal, Charon?" Crown cocked his brow.

"No!" Charon snapped.

"Then. Kill. Him." Vic stared at Charon with an intense look, boring into him with his eyes.

Charon turned to Helike.

"Helike, please, run. You can still get away." He whispered.

"Kid, are you kidding me? Has he seriously destroyed your mind this much? Come on! You have the gun! Make the right choice!" Helike begged.

"Yes, Charon. Make the right choice." Vic repeated, a smile playing on his face.

For the first time in years, Charon felt himself begin to shake.

"You can fight it, kid!" Helike would offer up. Vic remained silent, leaning against the doorframe. "Do what you know is right!"

"Come on, kid!"

"You can fight this!"

Charon breathed deeply, and turned toward Crown Vic.

For he did not want to have to see his second father die when he pulled the shotgun's trigger and heard his body fall to the floor.

Crown Vic pushed off the wall to a standing position, smirking but saying nothing, and walked back to his room.