It took another week to get enough to buy the contract. Knox did what he did best: shooting raiders, looting and scavenging. He hadn't eaten anything but blood packs. Then, still dirty, wounded and exhausted, Knox pushed open the double doors to the Ninth Circle. Ahzrukhal merely glanced at him. Knox grunted with effort, baring his blood-stained teeth to the barkeep. Silent, he slid the bag of caps across the counter to the waiting palm of the sleazy bastard. Ahz made a show of counting every cap and by the time he was done, Knox had gnawed a wound on his lower lip from holding back on his annoyance.
"Nice doing business with you," Ahz rasped, taking out a crinkled and yellow sheet of paper from the oversized safe behind the counter. The sheet of paper was frayed on the edges and even torn in some parts. Knox thanked the barkeep, realising that his hands were actually trembling as he held the contract. So, this was what it felt like to 'own' someone. The power in a piece of paper. Maybe this was why Moriarty liked hitting Gob. It was a rush of POWER to the head. Dominance. This feeling was akin to the satisfaction of his first successful kill with a BBgun. He splayed his hands over the contract, feeling the smooth roughness of old parchment. "I'll give you the pleasure of informing him," Ahz said. Knox stared up at the barkeep. For some reason, he had this urge to grin smugly at the bodyguard's former employer – HIS bodyguard's former employer.
Knox was against slavery but he could understand now, this desire to have someone in your possession.
He turned away from the barkeep and shuffled to the corner where pale eyes noted his every step. He had to convince himself he could hold that gaze now, cause he fucking owned the bloody contract. As he plonked himself down on one of the chairs, he studied his bodyguard openly. He was a ghoul, similar to every other ghoul with his melted skin and shiny torn muscles. Well… his muscles were more defined; it was plain to see this one was meant to kill, destroy or even protect. He exuded a different kind of energy. The veins popped out over the mess of raw flesh as he gripped his shotgun a little tighter. There was a very slight tilt of the head; an almost curious-looking expression shifted across his face and then it was gone. Interesting. Knox quirked a smile in spite of himself.
"You purchased my contract from Ahzrukhal?" Knox grunted an affirmative. His bodyguard gave him a once-over. The change in expression was obvious now; pale eyes wide and mouth slightly open. "So, I am no longer in his service." There was a faraway look in his eyes that was so out of place in that broken face. Then the tall guy grumbled and brushed past him to stand in front of the counter. They were… talking, Ahz and him. Knox couldn't hear what was going on but if this was a goodbye and appreciation speech, it was the most sparked with uncontainable edginess he had ever seen. He cast his eyes down the yellow paper at 'Charon', and then stuffed it into his undershirt, where it irritated the skin on his chest. He cringed when the scratches on his chest opened again, staining a corner of the paper. He lifted his face up to watch the goodbyes just in time to see shit hit the fucking fan.
For a split second, it was like being in Megaton's saloon all over again and it was him holding the gun as he watched the barkeep obliterate into a mess of wasted flesh. This time, the one holding the gun was a ghoul who had just murdered his former employer at point blank. When the next shot was fired, Knox was caught in the spray of crimson at the resounding bang. He stilled, focusing on threads of torn ligaments sliding down the wall. Fuck. This was his fucking bodyguard. His fucking bodyguard just destroyed his former master.
"Fucking, fucking shit."
"Mast-"
"You gotta do that to me one day, Charon. Like…fuck me up like that, okay." Knox slid out a cigarette from the packet of his pants, lighting it up skilfully. "And don't fucking hesitate."
Knox realised Charon just earned his right to get rid of him.