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Chapter 4 – Underworld
It took a while, but eventually Chrys had gotten the majority of her junk sold to Tulip. For the most part Tulip spent the time babbling about how thankful she was to the Vault girl for saving her life and how she was overjoyed to see her alive and well after being- as the ghouls have been calling it- "bitch-slapped" by a super mutant. Honestly Chrys didn't feel high and mighty about surviving a super mutant attack, but she took satisfaction in that she helped Tulip. As a reward, she was given a copy of Paradise Lost which had been kept in the store along with several other copies. Chrys couldn't be happier to see an actual book in decent condition out here in the wasteland and was itching to read it.
Winthrop had left her to go fix up some air vents, after she had donated all her scrap metal to him, and she was now heading to Carol's place. She had promised Tulip she would come back and chat after she had reserved a "room" for the night like Barrows had advised. She had to admit the place looked cozy, but there was definitely a lack of privacy. Turns out you didn't reserve a room, you reserve a bed and, if you're lucky, it has some sort of barrier between it and the next bed. Looking at the setup only made her miss the cozy room she shared with her father back in the vault… or at least her new "home" back in Megaton.
"Uh… hello?" She called out. The front desk was empty, but a moment later a ghoulette came from the back. She was dressed in a tattered blue dress and her demeanor was kind and cheery.
"Hello deary!" She greeted as she shook Chrys' hand. "Oh. You must be the smoothskin that was hurt by that mean ol' mutant."
"Yep, that's me. She-who-was-bitch-slapped-by-a-mutant." Chrys smiled shyly.
"Well it's good to know you're alive. I wish I still looked half as good as you do. Anyway, what do you need sweetie?" the older ghoulette asked sweetly.
"A… bed? Just for the night I think."
"Okay. I have one available for 100 caps tonight."
"I'll take it." She dished out the caps and handed them to Carol, "Um… which one is it?"
"That one tucked into the bathroom stall. It should give you some decent privacy." Carol pointed to one in the back corner. Indeed it was tucked into a bathroom stall cheaply built around it. Chrys nodded in thanks to Carol and headed over to the bed. A shady-looking ghoul sat a table nearby. He eyed with suspicion, but Chrys tried her best ignoring him. Luckily, he did not approach her. She sat her stuff down on the creaky bed and sighed. She had to face it: if she didn't get any help, she wasn't going to last much longer out there. She had only been out here for barely a week and she already almost died two, maybe three, times.
And then there was the matter of getting that satellite dish for Three Dog. Who would help her do that? And then help her find her father? It was easy to see that caps equaled power out here, and based on that she was about as powerful as a radroach larva. With all the expenses that she had gone through in the past few hours, she only had about 250 caps to her name. Luckily Winthrop had repaired her rifle for a discount, but she knew she wouldn't find the same kindness elsewhere. She sighed again and cleaned her glasses off out of habit. The giant light bulb, or "sun" as these wastelanders called it, hurt her eyes, and her glasses only magnified the glare.
After a moment she picked up her pack, not too eager to leave it lying around, and headed back to Tulip's shop. The young(er) ghoulette sat waiting at the counter. She brightened up a bit when Chrys entered.
"You're back! I thought you'd be a little while longer." Tulip said as she stood up and leanedon the counter.
"Well I don't have much of anything else better to do. I've already slept quite a bit, and if I don't move I'll just be sore even longer." Chrys explained as she set her bag on the floor by the counter.
"Good point."
Chrys sighed, "I know this might sound strange, but do you know anyone who has a good idea of the Wasteland and journeys out there frequently?"
Tulip tapped her bottom lip for a moment, "The only one I can think of is Quinn, but he's just a merchant."
"So he probably wouldn't help me out?"
"Depends on what you need help with."
"Surviving."
"Uh… that's pretty vague."
"I'm… looking for someone, and I have a lead, but I'm not going to make it much further if I don't get some help. Preferably someone who can fight those… mutant… things. Also anyone who can just teach me basic survival skills necessary for this place."
"Yeah Quinn doesn't necessarily fit that bill."
"I don't fit what?" a ghoul voice sounded from the shop entrance. Chrys turned to see the ghoul merchant standing in the doorway. He no longer had the bottle of amber liquid he had before, nor was Charon with him. Chrys looked at Tulip, who seemed to be petrified.
"I… uh… you… what I meant was…. Eheheh. Hi Quinn." Tulip stammered. Chrys couldn't help but find the ghoulette's behavior cute: she was attracted to Quinn.
"Hiya Tulip." Quinn responded plainly. He turned his gaze towards Chrys. "So you're the smoothskin everyone's talking about?"
"Yep, that's me." Chrys replied, taking note of Tulip's disheartened demeanor at Quinn's quick change of focus.
The ghoul took a couple steps up to Chrys and studied her intently. After a moment, he smirked. "If you're looking for help, it's definitely not going to be me."
"Oh yeah, Tulip said you probably couldn't help me." Chrys said, realizing afterwards she should have worded that differently. "Not that you're unqualified for the position… but you're obviously busy… with… whatever it is you do."
"Being a merchant." Quinn smirked.
"Right."
"Well, I might be able to point you in a good direction for some help." Quinn said as he searched through a couple of his pockets.
"Really?" Chrys asked, surprised that there would be someone that could actually help her.
"You might not like it though." Quinn said as he pointed out the door and up at an angle.
"Isn't that the Ninth Circle?" Chrys asked.
"Yep. If you want help surviving out there, your best bet is getting Charon's help." Quinn said as he finally fished a bundled up piece of faded red fabric. He let it roll out to reveal an old baseball cap. "But I will help you with this. Willow said you were squinting a lot out there."
He plopped the hat onto her head and adjusted it to fit her head. Chrys was surprised by the gesture and smiled in thanks. "Thank you Quinn. Uh how much do you want for it?"
"Tell you what, if you can fix my old radio, you can have it for free."
"Now that I can do."
One fixed radio later
"I'm tickled pink, the moon is yellow!"
"Clear as a whistle." Quinn said with delight. Chrys tipped her newly earned cap and walked off back to Tulip's shop. Tulip seemed rather somber.
"I wish I could be pretty like you smoothskin." Tulip sighed as she placed different items on the shelves.
"Hey you're pretty." Chrys said, though she wasn't sure what the basis of beauty was for a ghoul.
"Not like you are. You smoothskins are lucky. You can attract whoever you want, ghoul or human. It's not so easy for us ghoulettes." Tulip replied.
Chrys sighed. "I'm not pretty in smoothskin terms."
"Really?" Tulip turned with a very puzzled expression.
"Yep, I'm a bonafide grade A ugly human girl." Chrys said as she sat her pack down. "All the men despised my looks. I was always in my friend, Amata's shadow."
Tulip looked at her in amazement. Chrys didn't smile or give anything away. Sure she could have lied about all that to make Tulip feel better, but she really was ugly in terms of the other girls in the Vault. They all had perfect eyesight, nicely kept hair, and perfect waists. Chrys on the other had horrible eyesight, her hair was always in a disheveled mess, and she didn't curve in the right places. She had blonde hair, but it was dull, not a vibrant golden color. Her nose was also broken so many times, she was sure that it was crooked. Her hair was also rather flimsy and held little volume in addition to the aforementioned color problem. Her skin was pasty white and held no color like other girls in the vault did. This also made her blush rather prominent, which many people would tease her about for she apparently looked like a tomato when it happened.
"That's not fair. You are very pretty compared to other women out here." Tulip said as she set the box of items down on a stool. Chrys had to admit that the wasteland women were much dirtier, but they weren't necessarily uglier than her. Maybe the raider women, but none of the civilized women looked worse than she did.
"I don't know Tulip."
Tulip clapped a hand on her shoulder, "One day you'll find a man, and he will tell you how pretty you are. Then you will believe me."
Chrys smiled, "Thank you, Tulip, but I sincerely doubt that will happen."
The ghoulette shook her head, "If you can't nab someone, I'll have no hope for myself."
"Okay I'll find someone so you'll have more confidence." Chrys leaned in and whispered, "And I promise it won't be Quinn."
Tulip giggled.
The two girls spent another hour or so talking about various things: bartering, Paradise Lost, men, and finally Quinn's advice about Charon.
"Do you think he meant that?" Chrys asked.
"I don't know, but Charon is the one that pulled you out of that scuffle with the super mutants, and took down most of them single-handedly." Tulip responded as she counted up the caps in her register.
Chrys sighed. If her only hope lied in that terrifying ghoul then it was probably best she look elsewhere for some help. After all, there was no telling how loyal the guy was to the bar's owner, or how far his loyalty would stretch in terms of caps. He could easily betray her… or worse.
However, there was the fact that he did save her from three super mutants.
Chrys shook her head, it was risky. She didn't know if she could trust him or not. And she wasn't sure if she could live with that bone-chilling stare.
After enough time had passed, a large commotion started outside in the rotunda. The two girls headed out to see a conglomeration looking up at the second floor as Doc Barrows and Winthrop were making their way upstairs.
"Now I'm going to be a gentleman and ask nicely one more time, where is my money?" a male ghoul spoke out from the second floor. From what Chrys could see he wore a cream-colored suit and had a cigarette in one hand. Charon stood by and a cowering ghoul stood a couple feet away.
"I… I gave you the money I owed you." The ghoul said as he tried his best to keep calm. Chrys could see his confidence breaking under Charon's merciless stare.
"What's going on?" CHrys asked Tulip, "This is just allowed to happen?"
"Not necessarily. Barrows and Winthrop tend to interevene, but with Charon at his disposal, Ahzrukhal can do almost anything." Tulip explained.
Barrows and Winthrop got to where Ahzrukhal and Charon stood on the second floor. Winthrop was the one to speak.
"Ahzrukhal! What the hell are you doing? If this man gave you the money then leave him be."
Ahzrukhal blew a smoke ring and smirked. "He owes me another 100 caps. If he's not going to pay up then I have every right to negotiate for my investment."
Barrows stepped in, "Investment in what?"
"A most profitable shipment of Jet he said would come with Quinn's caravan." The suited ghoul said before taking another drag of his cigarette.
"It's supposed to be there! I swear I don't know why it isn't!" the ghoul cried.
"Quinn, was there a Jet shipment?" Barrows asked.
"I don't believe so. I checked everything already. Charon checked it three times." Quinn called from the ground floor.
Barrows sighed. Chrys could have sworn he muttered something akin to "Damn it."
"Fine Ahzrukhal! Do what you must… just be reasonable for fuck's sake." Barrows said and marched off. Winthrop was more hesitant to go, but after a moment followed suit.
"Very well. Charon, how's about you show our good friend here what a bent spine looks like. Use his own as an example, I'm afraid I have none to spare." Ahzrukhal grinned and stepped back to allow Charon to get to the terrified ghoul.
"Please! Have mercy!" he cried.
Chrys' jaw dropped, that couldn't be right. There had to be a logical explanation for it. Shipments wouldn't disappear like that… would they? Seeing the fear and pity that spread through the crowd as they began to turn away and disperse- most likely so they would not have to look at the gruesome sight to come- she turned and headed up the stairs that led to Carol's.
She ran past Carol's and rounded the corners that led to the front of the Ninth Circle where the three ghouls were. Without thinking Chrys threw herself in front of the petrified ghoul and spread her arms out. "Stop this!"
Charon froze, his massive hand only an inch from her neck. Ahzrukhal huffed.
"Ah… the sweet smoothskin I rescued." He took another drag and stepped closer. When Charon didn't move Ahzrukhal waved him off, "Move you fool! Can't you see I'm trying to have a decent conversation with this smoothskin?"
"Yes Ahzrukhal." Charon rasped and backed away.
The ghouls on the ground floor who had begun to disperse had quickly found their way back to watch the spectacle.
"Now dollface, you are kind of standing in the middle of some business negotiation, and I would prefer it if you moved so Charon here doesn't hurt you or get any blood on you." He smiled a sick smile, "You could join me at the Ninth Circle for a drink. How about that?"
"This is wrong and you know it." Chrys stated defiantly. "If he compensated you for the missing shipment, you have no right to harm him."
"But you see, I lose the profit I would have made, and he has yet to compensate me for that."
"That's not fair! How's he supposed to have the caps for that?"
"Not my problem, except that he should have them to pay me."
"Well I'm not moving."
Ahzrukhal shook his head. "Is this the thanks I get for saving your pretty little face?"
"You didn't save me." Chrys stated and point toward the imposing ghoul behind him, "He did!"
Ahzrukhal only laughed. "And do you think he would have done that if I hadn't told him to?"
Chrys could only give him a confused glance. He shook his head and smiled even more. Now she was starting to feel worried.
"Here, how's about I give you a demonstration. Charon!" Ahzrukhal called out and clapped his hands together, signaling the large ghoul.
"Yes Ahzrukhal?" Charon responded robotically.
"Take her to the storage closet and lock her in there then come right back here to finish our negotiations here. I'll be there in a minute to deal with her once we're done here." Ahzrukhal grinned.
Chrys could hear the protest coming from Winthrop, Tulip, and the other ghouls she had met, but she knew their shouts fell on deaf ears. Charon walked toward her and she tried to make a break for safety. Sadly, Charon's hand lashed out and grabbed her Vault suit and yanked her towards him. Struggling, she flailed and kicked and elbowed back at the massive ghoul as best she could, but it did nothing to faze him.
"Let her go! You asshole! Let her go!" Winthrop called as he made his way up the stairs.
Without warning Chrys was thrown over Charon's right shoulder. She yelped in fright and quickly made sure her glasses stayed on her face. The least thing she needed was to go through this ordeal blind.
"Put me down! Let me go!" She cried and pounded her fists on Charon's back. She was surprised out how much punching him actually hurt, but she kept it up hoping it hurt him more than it hurt her. The ghoul brought her into the Ninth Circle, due to the fiasco outside it was void of guests, and took her to a door that led to a back room. She heard a door open and she attempted to punch harder.
"If you would stop punching I could set you down more easily." A raspy voice sounded.
Chrys stopped punching and turned her head to where she could best see the back of his head. "Now you're talking? Please, can't you just let me go?"
"I am afraid I cannot." Gently, he set her down in the storage closet, not at all how Chrys would have expected the threatening ghoul to do.
She looked at the cloudy blue eyes of the ghoul, for once she saw a sliver of feeling in them: pain. It pained him to do this? Or did he know what his employer would do to her once they were finished with the poor ghoul outside?
"What is he going to do to me?" She asked helplessly.
"I do not know specifically." He responded. "Stay put. Do not touch anything. Do not do anything stupid or else I will be forced to kill you."
"Why are you listening to him? I know you don't want to do this."
"I cannot say."
With that he steeled himself again, stepped out, and shut the door. It was dark, but light came in through the sliver of space under the doorway. Chrys sighed. She tried to turn the handle, but it was locked. She turned and looked around at what shared her confinement space. She saw nothing but boxes of drugs, alcohol, and chems. After a few more minutes of searching she grabbed one of the wine bottles and tested its weight in her hands. If she could find one with a decent amount of weight she might be able to use it against Ahzrukhal.
"Do not do anything stupid or else I will be forced to kill you."
Beating his employer with a wine bottle probably fell in the stupid category. Thinking it over if she was able to take out Ahzrukhal, she would be doomed when it came to Charon. Best case scenario is the bottle would be broken and sharp after bludgeoning Ahzrukhal and she could use it to stab Charon somewhere vital and make a mad dash for safety. However, anytime she tried to imagine stabbing the massive ghoul, she thought about the sliver of pain she saw in his eyes and how he tried to be gentle with her even though Ahzrukhal didn't say he had to. Despite her fear of him, she knew deep down Charon was a good man. She berated herself for thinking of him as monster when he had only tried to do what he can to make this experience bearable for her.
She put the wine bottle back in the bow it came from and then dropped to the floor. She hugged her knees to her chest and stared at the sliver of light coming from under the door. She needed to be out finding her dad, yet here she was trapped in a sleazy bar's storage closet waiting for God-knows-what to happen to her. If this was what she had to expect for the rest of her journey to find her dad, then she desperately needed help.
"What do I do?" she asked herself.
After what seemed like hours the door began to open. Her head shot up to see Charon- steeled expression void of emotion- looking down at her. "Get up."
She stood and walked out of the storage closet, but once she passed Charon he shut the door and grabbed her arm, twisting it behind her back. She let out a small cry of pain and then Charon did the same with her other arm. She looked ahead to see Ahzrukhal standing there eyeing her mischievously.
"My dear you caused quite a stir out there. I don't think anyone has ever really tried to stop Charon from doing what I asked of him. You've got balls kid, I'll give you that." He took a final drag of his cigarette and then stamped it out in a nearby ashtray on the bar counter. He stepped closer to her and with a ruined hand he tilted Chrys' chin up so that she looked him in the eye. "So you wish to know why Charon has to do whatever I say. It's quite simple really. I own his contract."
"Contract?" Chrys said, attempting to hide her fear and disgust at feeling the sinful ghoul's hand on her face.
"Yes, his contract. Since I hold it, he has to do whatever I say without question. You see he was… brainwashed into this state of obedience and servitude."
"So he's your slave."
"Ma'am you wound me. He is not my slave. He is just my unquestioning servant. I'm an honest man trying to make a living and Charon here is a great asset to my enterprise."
"You are sick and cruel."
Ahzrukhal's demeanor darkened. "Don't you know when to keep your mouth shut? Didn't your mother ever tell you to speak properly? I am neither sick nor cruel. You don't see me killing or harming anyone. My hands are clean. Can't say the same for Charon here, but he does what is necessary."
"Because you tell him to!"
"Excuse me ma'am but do you see me firing guns or breaking people's bones? Nope. All Charon. I am a saint compared to him. No blood stains my hands."
"I won't blame the gun for the actions of the shooter."
At that moment a blunt force whipped her head to the side and left a searing pain on her right cheek. He glasses flew off and clattered on the floor.
"You bitch. You need to learn your place. Get her out of here Charon, she's irritated me enough for today. Next time you come by, I expect you to be civil smoothskin."
When Ahzrukhal's blurred shape moved she was dragged to the door by Charon. He opened the door and thrust her out. She didn't hit the railing, but she did almost fall from the force. She looked around, but everything was blurry she didn't know where to go. A moment later a hand clamped down on her shoulder and led her away from the Ninth Circle.
"You okay kid?" It was Winthrop.
"Yeah. I got slapped and my glasses are still in there, but other than that I'm fine." She rubbed her cheek where she was pretty sure a bruise would form.
Winthrop sighed. "I wish there was something we could have done."
"It's okay."
They reached Carol's place and after being fussed over by Carol and inspected by Greta, she was led to her bed. Winthrop left to go work on the ventilation system and Greta went off to go cook something for the shaken vault girl.
Carol sat by Chrys on the foot of the small bed. "Everything alright sweetie?"
"Could be better. I wish I could see." Chrys said. Her vision was very blurry, and the area was unfamiliar to her so she felt rather vulnerable. At least in the Vault she knew how to navigate it if her glasses were lost or broken. This place, not so much.
Carol patted her on the back. "I'm sure Winthrop or Barrows can get your glasses back."
"Has Ahzrukhal always been like this?"
"As long as I can remember him being here he's been this way. His power is his absolute control over Charon though. If he didn't have that well then there would be nothing making him higher than the rest of us." Carol sighed. "One day he'll get what's coming to him. I believe there is still some justice left in this world."
Carol stood and left Chrys to herself. She fell back on the lumpy mattress and sighed in resignation. She felt around for her pack and found it leaning against the wall surrounding the bed. Exhausted, edged herself up so that all of her body was on the bed and curled up to sleep.
"I'm calling it a night. You know the drill." Ahzrukhal went to the backroom that was past the storage closet where he kept his bed. He slammed the door and Charon knew he would be alone. Following routine, he turned out all the lights in the bar, pushed the chairs in, and emptied all of the ashtrays. Feeling like a damned busboy he lazily put the ashtrays back. Before returning to his corner where he was stationed to keep watch he bent down and felt around the barstools at the counter until his hands passed over a small object. He snatched it up and found what he was looking for: the smoothskin's glasses.
He folded them up and tucked them into one of the pockets in his leather armor; hopefully they wouldn't be damaged there. He took up his spot at the corner and leaned against the wall, arms crossed. He stared blankly at the door, for once though, he had something to think about.
That smoothskin… she confused him. He had never seen one of her kind stand up for a ghoul before. Doing so in smoothskin society meant you had a social death wish. Yet, here she was, standing up for the pathetic ghoul that Ahzrukhal robbed blind. Charon felt ashamed of himself, what he had put that ghoul through, he was almost happy that he had locked that smoothskin in the closet so that she wouldn't have had to witness it.
'Wait why do I care? She's a smoothskin.'
But then why had he been so gentle with her? He could have just thrown her down in the supply closet and slammed the door in her face without a word, but he didn't. He spoke with her. And he didn't just say "Talk to Ahzrukhal." He rubbed his forehead and groaned, he hadn't treated anyone like that before. It was probably due to his first order involving her was to protect and save her from those mutants. But that never happened before, so what made her so different?
'She's a smoothskin? No shit.'
She is one of those vault dwellers. That didn't seem like a good enough reason. It just clarified her stupidity even more. Her stupidity, naivety, or whatever, he was shocked that she had made it this far. No one got by in the wasteland by sticking their necks out for other people. Yet here she was, sticking her neck out for a ghoul. 'Fucking stupid smoothskin. She's gonna get herself killed.'
But what did he care? He was a motherfucking massive ghoul monster who brought fear to the hearts of all those who looked at him. He had seen her reaction to him the first time she saw him when he had gone out to help Quinn (and when he hid the shipment of Jet par Ahzrukhal's orders). She was terrified of him as almost any other pathetic smoothskin would be. But that fear was one of his greatest assets. If his contract didn't exist, Ahzrukhal would be on his knees begging for mercy, which Charon would never give. And everyone knew it. And that's what makes them fear him too. Without the contract's cage, he would be almost unstoppable. He was trained and conditioned to be a killer, an assassin, a murderer, or anything that involved the taking of another life.
But as much as he enjoyed the intimidation he had over people, he still had his morals. Maybe it was his morality that made him gentle towards the smoothskin. And as much as he hated to admit it, he wished that sometimes people didn't look at him in fear. He wished that they would respect him, not fear him or pity him, just respect him. Or maybe all he wanted was equal footing. 'Fuck, I don't know!' Given the chance he knew he would give the slimy, filthy bastard what he deserved. Would he ever get that chance? His hope died with every year that past, and with 50 of them having gone by, he was very skeptical. However, each year brought greater desire and ambition to end that disgusting rat's life in the most satisfying way possible.
He sighed and rubbed his forehead again. That stupid smoothskin had gotten him thinking about more things than he thought he would. He tilted his head back and rested it against the wall behind him, looking up at the ceiling.
"I won't blame the gun for the actions of the shooter."
For all the shit he had done, she wasn't going to blame him? There was something wrong with that smoothskin… or maybe, maybe she was just that sincere and kind. Or that stupid. He was a killer no doubt and nothing she says is going to change that. Charon closed his eyes. He thought the rest of the night about how nice she smelled.