Knox hammered a nail through the metal with more force than necessary. Charon grunted next to him. They were hammering sheet metal over a hole in the wall in the Ninth Circle. Some days ago, they had scavenged the nearby strongholds for mattresses to put into the abandoned Ninth Circle. When Knox explained that one of the mattresses belonged to Charon, his bodyguard gave him a blank stare. Sure, he was always expressionless but Knox could pick out the traces of confusion now. It was getting easier to pick out minute changes in his presence and Knox found it… endearing to see traces of emotion in a face that had always been so unflinching and almost unfeeling.
They divided the Ninth Circle into two sections, hospital curtains serving as dividers underneath the arched opening in the middle. Knox decided to take the side with the actual bar as his residence while the other side was meant for any other ghouls that needed a place to stay. They cleaned up the former bar; it smelt like Abraxo for days until Doc and Winthrop decided to store a bunch of crap in the place. It actually felt so homely after all the junk occupied some of the space; Knox relished nights of sleeping in the place. Yeah, homely. Beside him, Charon brushed his shoulder as he leaned over to pick up more nails from the floor. Knox held out his palm where he placed the nails. Charon took a couple and gripped them between his teeth before hammering them in place onto the wall. Knox copied his actions, biting down on the nails. The sensation of a sharp nail on his tongue made electric waves surge through his body. Knox maintained a smirk as he continued working.
Doc Barrows took blood samples from him again that night. Boring. The doctor seemed more stressed these days. Everyone wanted the fucking cure.
When he watched his ghoul companion fixing his gun that night, he wondered if Charon wanted the cure as much as anyone else. He predicted that Charon didn't give a damn. Then he wondered if that was a sad thing. He blurted out the question.
"If you require my assistance, I would endeavour to give my best," Charon said. Knox smiled at the cryptic way he answered questions. Maybe Charon did care about the cure…a little bit. He had lived a long life like this, like the way most ghouls in Underworld did; persecuted, discriminated and abused. But Charon was programmed a little differently wasn't he? Knox rubbed his lips with the rough pad of his thumb, tracing the smooth dents where the scar was. It stretched across his lips.
Days passed so slowly in Underworld. He only knew the day was done when his cigarettes had dwindled down to 3 sticks in a pack. He offered Charon one. His bodyguard took it. They sat side by side under rattling pipes, watching smoke float in the air. As of today, Knox had Charon for 3 months. And at this moment, even though Charon had his stoic expression on, Knox knew that his bodyguard was calm, possibly even close to content. On the other hand, Knox felt …tense. He had been indoors for what? 2 weeks now? He needed to break stuff. He wanted to burn the world. He wanted to burn himself. He wanted to just…let it all go. He bit down on the cigarette, ripping through the paper and tasting bitterness on his tongue. Charon stood up all of a sudden and he stared down at his employer. It occurred to Knox that Charon was expecting him to do something. Knox pulled himself up, already starting to walk to the door and loading his weapon of choice.
His bodyguard knew him so well.
"Where to, Boss?"
"Let's gut some mercenaries today," Knox said. He turned to smile at his companion. The ripple in the air meant that his companion was returning the smile even though none of facial muscles shifted into anything resembling a smile.
They found the stronghold by accident actually. And very disgracefully at that. Knox got scratched by shrapnel from a well-aimed frag grenade. He let loose a long string of vulgarities as he made a dash to the stronghold, aiming his rifle at them. Charon followed him closely behind; Knox knew without having to turn. Only during battles, he could see his companion enjoy himself thoroughly. Charon was meant cause destruction. The hurled insults, the goading, the excessive trigger-happiness… that side of him unleashed itself in battle.
Knox selected a blade from the leather satchel he carried around and set to work. He filled the numerous packs first with blood and placed them beside him. He carved the cadaver like a piece of meat, naming the parts as he went along. The triceps, at the back of the humerus, together with the biceps pooled onto the floor, joining their brother the deltoid. Sure. Doc didn't want these parts, but these were the muscles that helped in creating the still bleeding scratches on his skin. Knox kept the smirk in place, sinking the metal into the trapezius muscle and making diagonal patterns. There was a raspy snort from somewhere to his left. Knox glanced at his bodyguard, coughed then got to work for real. Heart. The heart. Dead and still in his fist. Knox placed it against his cheek and felt the mix of human warmth colliding with dead cold. His ghoul grumbled something and Knox put the heart into the toolbox that Doc had lined with leather. A string of clot slid off his face. Knox stood up, surveying the damage. He wiped the blade uselessly on his pants, ran dirty fingers through his hair then moved on to the next corpse.
Win looked at him like he was a broken radiator before helping to carry the carved meat. They made their way to the Chop Shop. Doc Barrows was observing the ferals through the glass of the observation room. He raised a nonexistent eyebrow as he looked up from the clipboard at Knox who placed the toolbox on his desk and walked over to him with an easy swagger. Knox peered over the notes. Just like Dad's handwriting, Knox couldn't read a damned word. The doctor stared at him then slipped off the reading glasses.
"Human parts for you," Knox drawled.
"I know, smoothskin." Doc Barrows walked to his desk as Knox leaned against the glass separating him from the test ferals. One of them banged a fist against the glass, where Knox's head was. He spared the growling feral a glance while Charon's fingers trailed across the barrel of his shotgun, eyes trained on his employer. Doc Barrows lifted a clean rag from his desk and handed it to Charon who stared at it with something like confusion.
"Clean yourself up," Doc Barrows said to Knox, already opening the toolbox and poking its contents. "And I'd appreciate it if you don't rile up my tests."
"Sure, Doc." He sat down on one of the cots as Charon walked a kind of stilted walk to him, fingering the rag in his palm. Charon shoved the rag at him and watched as his employer rubbed it over his face, wiping away the red mess. Knox grimaced, and then tore the cloth in half to pass the cleaner portion to Charon. Charon wiped dirt off his armor and Knox continued wiping the red trails, flecks of dried blood dropping onto the floor. "So, how goes the cure?" He hadn't asked Doc this question for some time.
"There is something promising with the newest serum." Doc came over with an empty syringe and Knox bared his arm. Doc pulled some blood from him into the syringe. "I need to test a bit more before we can put it into the field." He also passed Charon some Stimpaks. Charon handed them to Knox who took one and gestured for his bodyguard to take the rest. Charon stuffed them into Knox's sack, grumbling something which sounded like 'fussy bleeders'.
"Any of them on it, yet?" Knox asked Doc, piercing his wound with the Stimpak as he gestured at the ferals on the other side of the glass.
"One of them. The one with the ring in his ear."
"Yeah?" Knox grunted when he pulled the Stimpak out, a spray of blood following the needle. "What changes?"
"Hair."
"On the scalp? Or pubes?" Doc shot him a withering glare. "Hey. Either way it's good, right?" Knox grinned. "Hair is nice to touch."
"You still got red on you."
"I need a shower. But I hear the pipes rattling." Knox moved to the door. "Hey, Charon. Do I stink worse than ferals?" Charon grunted and shrugged. He attempted to pick up the sack that Knox was carrying. Knox declined and smiled at Charon. The bodyguard never stopped trying to do that, no matter how many times this happened. He saluted to Doc as he left, hoping that for Doc's sake, this serum better worked.