Before I get comments asking about it, all of Desmond's past is just MY theory of how his life went down and what caused him to be such a cold-hearted bastard. It's not canon by any means, and it also shouldn't effect what YOU think happened in his life. A lot of Fallout characters have no back-story and Bethesda pretty much lets you think up one for them on your own accord. So, this is how I like to write Desmond. Apparently his life has been long and messy, so I'm trying to portray that in the way that I feel is appropriate, and the way that I feel will be interesting to discover more of the character himself. Hope none of you mind me twisting the story into my liking. And if you do, well, YOUR LAME.

I do not own anything Fallout related, obviously. I only write Fanfiction. Please Read and Review, even if anonymous, any little critique or compliment is much appreciated.

| Chapter Three – Names |

Decapitated bodies littered the ground on the first floor. Crimson and sticky puddles seep through the wood and the sound of lapping from the two dogs could be heard as they guzzled up the blood as if it were water.

The last of the Tribal's are either dying or currently being shot to death. The sounds of gunshots could be heard on the second floor as the ghoul made his way toward another Tribal who was on his knees as he begged for his life. His face was tear stained and his eyes were swelling with fresh ones. But the ghoul showed no emotion as he roughly shoved the barrel of the gun to his forehead. Click. Nothing.

"…Bloody fucking Americans, can't make a reliable goddamn firearm. It's a fucking shame really."

The kneed Tribal sighed in relief thinking that he had been spared, but that moment of gratefulness ended when the ghoul quickly took the Shotgun with two hands and began smashing the Tribal's skull in.

He continued to beat the man long after he was dead, seemingly annoyed with the entire situation, before stopping eruptedly at the sound of the door behind him cracking open.

'Fucking kid is without manners…' The ghoul quickly grit his teeth in frustration before tossing the unreliable Shotgun to the side. It flung across the room until smashing against the opposite wall. Surely leaving a dent in the wood, but not as if Desmond cared about such things.

Cloudy eyes flicked to the figure at the door. And he was almost surprised, because even though she was covered in blood and bruises, she still looked… innocent.

She was slightly hunched over, most likely from falling two goddamn stories down to the basement. Her heavy coat had been discarded, and all that clung to her was that odd blue jumpsuit with little bits of scrap armor connected to the fabric. She seemed to be admiring the house around them rather then paying any sort of attention to him. Which was just bloody fine because he was busy admiring her anyways.

The way she stood there, curious and wide-eyed, made the ghoul drift back to a quick memory of his early childhood. Recalling the moments when he would push the doors to his house after a torturous six hours of school only to have his father come yelling from the upper floor: 'Learn to close that fucking door!', and such. Remembering moments when his father would punish him by forcing his arms to stretch out in front of his body and repeatedly bring down a thin stick-(Smaller then his thumb, of course)-down on them.

His father was an odd man who's view points were that of the olden days. Whenever he hurt his son it wouldn't be the usual beatings. No, Desmond's father punished him in different ways. Always painful, and always drawing blood, of course, but never the usually punch or kick. It was always with a stick. If not a stick anything he could get his hands on to bluntly hurt the boy.

There was only one single time his father had ever actually used his own hands to harm him, and that had been a firm back-hand from when Desmond came home crying from getting bullied.

It was always in order to 'produce a better man', as his father always said. Always to make him stronger, tougher and more independent and unreliable of other people. His father simply hated it when Desmond would quickly flee to his mother after one of these beatings. Hated it because it totally defied what he had been trying to teach his son, and because he knew that his mother would start an argument over it.

Unlike his father, Desmond's mother was a loving women. And gentle. And kind. It must have been because she was young and had more patience then his father, who happened to be fifteen years older then her. She would always protect and defend him. Yelling at his father to stop being so cruel and to learn to give up the old ways and to live with the new. Such discipline was looked down upon now, and that he didn't disserve such treatment. But in the end, Desmond came to respect his father. Because as much as he laid his hands on him, and as much as his parents would argue, his father never lifted a single hand to her. And Desmond always admired that about his father.

He couldn't help but find it humorous at how he turned out.

Slowly coming out from his thoughts as the sound of wood cricking caught his attention, his eyes refocused themselves on the young girl, who had taken a step forward, eyes still flicking across the room in curiosity as if she was staring at a room filled with goddamn gold or something.

'This girl could use his guidance…'

He roughly scoffed, getting her attention instantly. "Well well, It seems I've invited you into my home, and now you take full advantage of my fucking hospitality. Don't you know how to fucking knock, you bloody ingrate?"

The girl jumped a bit out of sudden surprise, that quickly froze into fear at the sight of the mutilated body behind him.

He eyed her with a raised brow. Noticing how large her eyes had gotten-(He noted that they were hazel, hues of light browns and gold that swirled into one small orb. He decided to ignore the fact that he actually found himself liking them)-and how distressed she actually looked now.

'…Well of course she isn't going to say anything. Fuck, look at her, she looks like a goddamn deer in headlights for fucks sake. She is going to be completely fucking useless to me… goddamnit… The old man would of loved her.'

"… Hmph. So, my hero, huh? Think you came and rescued me right in the nick of time?" He muttered, walking across the dining room that they were in. His decrepit hand sliding across the wooden long table before he made himself out of the room and toward his office between the stairs. "Not hardly. Had it all well in hand. And I didn't even need to use the failsafe." He stated. Turning around to see if she had followed him. She had. "But that would've done a real number on the paintings, so just as well you were here… Anyway. Name's Desmond. Desmond Lockheart."

The girl seemed to be a tad worried. Fingers tangled together in nervous fidgeting as she eyed him curiously, head tilting to the side. Maybe she simply did not trust strangers. Or maybe she was like most of her kind and disliked ghouls. Maybe she found him terrifying. A brain eating zombie or something. But her eyes started to slowly brighten-(He noted)-at his sarcasm and she politely introduced her self, an innocent smile spreading across her blood smeared face.

"I'm Evelyn. But you can just call me Eve."

Desmond's eyes locked on hers instantly, his expression turning sour. He looked her over with a disapproving glare and shook his head, causing her smile to falter in confusion.

"Tsk. Well, of course you fucking lazy Americans insist on goddamn nicknames, rather then using the name you were given. I supposed I can't blame you, though, your parents were probably as much of Neanderthals as these bloody Tribal's."

He gave the beaten and bloody pulped body behind him a sharp kick, in which cause the young girl to jump back as fear took a hold of her once again. He couldn't help the wicked grin that spread across his face as his back was turned to her. The thought of the girl being so easily frightened reminded him of some sort of rodent. Hard to catch but easy to crush under his palm. He had known there was something strange about her when he had watched her from the monitors… her reaction influenced that thought.

"Perhaps you can redeem them. Was there any hidden meaning behind that name of yours? You know, something that gives you a merit for hating your parents enough where you rather use a prefix over the whole. I'm sure every time you insist on being called Eve they must think that you hate them."

The girl seemed to grow sadder the more the ghoul talked, Desmond of course, didn't care. Because he was right. He was always right. The wicked grin hid under a stoic expression as he turned to face her again. Not wanting to give her the pleasure that he indeed was finding this entertaining. After years of solitude in this bloody mansion with only his two pups-(Where the fuck were they, anyways?)- To talk to, another human being who hadn't tried to blow a fucking hole through his skull was rather refreshing. Even if she wasn't talking much at all.

He was named after his grandfather.

Desmond never actually met the man. Apparently he had died before Desmond was even born. But his father would talk highly of the him, telling old stories on how his grandfather was the one that taught him how to shoot a gun, how his grandfather faithfully served the British Armed Forces for her Majesty. And how he had gone Missing In Action when his father had just been only ten years old. And how painful his grandfathers funeral had been.

"You must remember," His father had told him one day. "You are a Lockheart. Our names will go down in all British history and we must keep our names from being soiled. You are the last in line, your mother and I— Well, let's just say, you're not going to get any little brothers or sisters anytime soon. So you must remember, you have a responsibility, you must honor our name, understand?"

Desmond had only been around thirteen when his father had suddenly brought this on. He remembered feeling another fucking weight on his shoulders. As if his young life wasn't filled with enough expatiations already.

"Life."

The sudden quip from the girl tore him out of his memories unexpectedly. Cloudy eyes flicking to the girl instantly as she seemed to be fidgeting nervously again. She must have noticed his confusion, because she slowly began to speak up again, explaining.

"M-my name. Evelyn. It means life. At least, that's what my dad always told me. I never really knew for certain. But, I believe him. It suits him, really… He's a Doctor… or… was… Hmm…" She shifted, hazel eyes that had been hiding under a curtain of ruffled yet clean and untangled auburn locks slowly rolled up to make eye contact with the ghoul in front of her. "…People just always tended to shorten my name to Eve, even when I was young… s-so… I got used to it."

"Well, the people who call you Eve, obviously hate you. If they had just a morsel of respect they would spend the extra fraction of a fucking second to correctly pronounce your full name." He must have surprised her, because the look on her face was priceless, it took all the fiber in his body to hold back the laughter he wanted to throw at her face. He turned around again, this time walking into his office instead of lingering under the stairs over another dead body, quickly going toward his table and shuffling things to the side, trying to find something. A little sigh of relief did indeed leave his throat though, at the sight of his two pups happily licking blood off their chomps as they lazily laid on the floor. "And while your father is indeed correct in the meaning of the word, he obviously is one with a sense of humor because that same word also means to desire. Sounds like your ol' daddy believed you would be a prostitute, kid." He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth once he finally found what he was looking for, the 32. Pistol he had discarded earlier.

"…Look. Thank you for… everything, really, but I must be on my way. I came to Point Lookout on a mission, and I doubt you'll be much help unless you have seen a women named Nadine?"

He couldn't help to grin, this time visibly and he knew she caught a hint of it. She was just how he had expected. Innocent, oblivious and stupid. She even had the gall to thank him. Thank him! As if he has actually done anything for her, he should be the one thanking her. But he wouldn't, because he didn't need her help to bloody begin with. She had just been at the right place at the right time, and pretty fucking convenient. But he did admire that little sass she had given him. Maybe she wasn't as low as a rodent then he had expected. Maybe she was a puppy. Still easy to squish to death, but at least she'll leave some nice little bites on him to remember her by.

"Nadine, huh? I've been around a long goddamn time. The last time I knew a bird named Nadine, I still had skin." He stated, turning around to face her, leaning back against the wooden table as he held the pistol up, slightly tapping it against the side of his temple. "There was some girl who came noising around here a few weeks back, but she ran off before I could… introduce myself." The grin on his face grew even wider, darker. If by introducing himself meant to set his pups on her trespassing ass then yes, before he could politely introduce himself…

The girl in front of him shifted slightly. A sigh leaving her throat before she shrugged and turned on her heal. "Well, then there really is no point of me sticking around." She searched around the first floor for a bit, before quickly grabbing the heavy coat that she had draped over the stair rail before she had gone to aid him with the sudden Tribal attack. "Once again, thank you for everything. But, I have to go now."

Desmond 's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't expected her to really leave, so the sudden departure and determination to reach the front doors caught the ghoul off guard. A sudden ping of unexpected anger enthralled the man and he didn't even think it through before he was already stalking after her wake. "Now hold on there…" And suddenly, he had dashed toward her, quickly twisting around so that he had gotten in her way, blocking her path from the front doors and her only exit from the mansion. "Not so fucking fast!" He had flashed in front of her so quickly, she had even bumped into his chest. A small 'oof!' escaping her throat as she winced and stared up at him with wide eyes. "You could still be useful to me… You're not from this shithole you have no bloody qualms here, and I need someone willing to get their hands dirty."

"B-but I-I'm searching for someone, I just told—"

"More of a fucking reason to help me then! Those Tribal's are bloody everywhere, while they might be fucking imbeciles you could still get the information you seek if you simply ask them…" He wrapped a firm hand on her shoulder and twirled her around, roughly shoving her back into the mansion and away from the front doors, enjoying the terrified little squeak she gave. "So here's the deal: I help you get in with those Tribal's, you help me get what I want, and I'll make you fuckin' rich!"

"And why should I help you again?" She suddenly twirled around to face him. Her brows scrunched up in a angry scowl as she looked up at him. Cheeks tinted slightly red-(In anger or in fear, he wasn't sure)-and those big eyes innocent eyes of hers were darkened with a sudden burst of bravery. "What's the point? It's not like I'm gaining anything if I do."

But Desmond wasn't born fucking yesterday and he knew damn well that under that sudden anger and pride, underneath those big eyes of hers were still a sharp sting of fear, just waiting to erupt if he scared her enough.

And he would.

"…Why should you help me, huh? Well, let me ask you something. What's the difference between you and me, kid? What makes a gifted killer like yourself into a rock-hard bastard like me? Hm?"

The girls angry glare faltered, an auburn brow raising as she eyed him in confusion.

"No comment, huh? Well, the answer is TRAINING YOU IGNORENT FUCK!" And just how he has suspected, that little angry scowl had been ripped off her face so fast it was almost comical. "I've got a hundred years of experience on you, and don't you forget it!"

The girl's face was one of surprised sheer terror, the poor thing hadn't expected the ghoul to suddenly scream at her that way. She blinked, trying to hide the fact that he had actually caused her knees to shake before answering as slow and steady as she possibly could.

"…W-what d-do you w-want me t-to do about T-tribal's?"

He eyed her, brow still narrowed in frustration and rage but he slowly licked his lips, eyes fluttering closed as he calmed himself. "You need to learn to pay attention when I speak…" Eyes fluttering open again, his hands slowly rose up to fix his the tie around his neck before walking passed her toward his office. "Those mud-lovers want me dead, and haven't extended the common fucking courtesy of telling me why!" He turned to face her once they were in his office, watching as his pups stared at the girl in confusion. They were probably wondering why he hadn't siced them on her yet. "So, I need you to find a way into their commune and figure out what's going through their addled little heads…"

"Uhm… Okay, but how do I infiltrate them?"

"Easy-peasy. Right now they'll be wondering what happened to their little hunting party."

"A-and you really think they'll just let me in like that? Won't they know I'm… different?"

Desmond blinked, well, that was probably the smartest thing she had said this entire time. But, he shrugged, and went back to his monitors, ignoring the fact that his pups had gotten up from their lazy nap on the floor and had gone to sniffle at the girl in curiosity, which she seemed not to mind.

"Look kid, these are people who think cutting a hole in their fucking skull will expand their mind… They're not exactly scholars over there… Just head up to the Cathedral, and ask real nice. When you're in you'll find the bastard in charge and find out what exactly they are up to. No need for violence… yet."

"Do you know why the Tribal's were attacking in the first place, uh, Mister?"

He rose a brow at the title she had decided to give him. Eyes staring at the uninteresting monitors, but he couldn't help but smile-(An actual smile, not a grin or smirk like usual)-at it and chuckled slightly. "Ah… No, not a fuckin' clue, kid. It'd be easy to chalk it to their crazy religion. But if I'm right, and I always am, there's something else going on here." He turned to face her again, bored of the empty monitors, and rather keep his eyes on something that was rather… good to look at. In an entertaining way, of course. "That's the third attack in a month! So somebody's got a grudge with me… Wither it's a man or a god I intend to set them straight!"

Evelyn had been busy ruffling Geri's fur, while running her palm up and down Freki's furless body. She had a sweet little smile on her face as she pampered the two pups, and they seemed to rather enjoy the attention. Apparently she was a dog person. Like him… Interesting. Didn't most women prefer kitty cats? Victoria did—

She turned her head to face him the moment he stopped speaking, eyes looking at him intently. She had been listening after all. "Oh… I see… Well, if it helps me find Nadine, I guess it couldn't hurt…" She slowly stood up, away from his pups and flicked her eyes around the room before looking back at him, the small smile still on her face.

"…Heh. Now there's a good lass." He quickly walked up to her, grabbing a hold of her shoulder and twirling her around before basically dragging her toward the front doors. "Be a good pup, and Ol' Mister Desmond will give you a treat… And of course, who knows what riches they have for you to steal!" Before he shoved her forward, making her yelp slightly before she caught her self on the wooden doors in front of her. She turned to look at him, her brow narrowed once again, but kept her mouth shut. And slowly slid out of the mansion.

His eyes had grown wide, a strange and wide grin spread across his face. Teeth clenched slightly before looking down at his loyal pups who had found their way toward their master, murring slightly as they rubbed their cheeks against his pants for attention.

"Heh... Guess the little princess isn't too bad... She just better come back with my bloody information…" While Desmond dared not show it, there was something about the girl that entertained him. Enthralled him, like she had when he first saw her on monitor three. He actually found himself hoping she would come back…

"…Well." He slowly took steps backward, away from the doors before turning around completely and going back to his office. "Back to business."

Greeke The Freak – Thank you for the comment, even if it was short. :) and hopefully my little story will attract a flock of Desmond fans hiding out there.

Anonymous – Why thank you! :D Can't have enough fans :

FancyLadySnackCakes – Seeing YOU review my story was like seeing Christ reborn. I am such a fan of your erotic ghoul stories, I love them all! Especially the way you write Charon, always so very yummy~ I've always wondered why I hadn't seen a Desmond story in your collection, and now I know! Yesss, he is a very hard and cruel character to portray, I actually think I made him a little to nice this time around. But I'm glad I'll have you as a fan. I feel honored. :D

Kris – If there are more Desmond Lockheart FanFiction other then mine and the one other on this site, please let me know! I would love to read more of his fictions. :) And of course it's always, fun, thank you!

DaLover – Yay! I'm glad you'll be a content fan of mine. :) And I don't mind the double post, haha xD But yesh, meaningful specs for Desmond. I'm glad you liked that snippet. Thank you for reviewing!