He was rich!
It was a nice thought, twelve hundred caps might not equal to rich in a world where a good gun seemed the most important thing in the world...but it was still a nice security. Though it would only take a moment of unwariness and he'd be poor as a beggar again...the thought made John grasp the duffel bag in his lap all the tighter, wary eyes darting out to look out over the odd settlement he had stumbled over.
Underworld was...dingy. The bench he was sitting on barely held his weight, obviously having begun to rot from the inside. The walls were green and brown instead of the white they were supposed to be, the weird dark statue to his left was equally filthy, though the black stone concealed it better then most things here. Not that it concealed the smell permeating everything...a mix of rotting flesh and...yeast?
Winthrop's greeting about John's flesh tasting nice had eased John's first fears about the place...though he still found himself a little nervous after his previous encounters with the ferals. A settlement full of ghouls...it was a little creepy. Though these ones were obviously better fed than the ferals, and far more welcoming....which didn't do much to the smell of course.
Still, it was better then the smell of super mutants about to kill you, and far safer.
Behind him stained and cracked stairs went up to the second floor, the floor acting as the roof to the underworld store he'd just visited. Tulip had been very...generous...as if she didn't get customers that often. Or maybe it had simply been because of a smoothskin actually smiling at her? In the end he had managed to get almost all of her caps for the looted equipment and weapons he had gathered from the subway and mutants he'd encountered. With a weak sting of guilt John wondered if he'd gotten such a good deal because of that polite smile...the thought didn't sit well with him.
Groaning John straightened his legs out before him, feeling bruises and cuts strain under his dirt-covered leather pants. God he needed some rest...but no, he needed to press on. Rivet City...a big boat? Should be easy to find if he got out of DC...which his many bruises told him wouldn't be the easiest thing.
The encounter with the behemoth was still on his mind, but wasn't as mind-numbing as one would expect. He had just run a bit and then pulled a trigger, nothing big, though all who had heard Three Dog speak of it apparently made a big deal of it. Of course if they had seen how easy it was compared to a cramped fight with a super mutant armed with a wooden club in the subway they wouldn't praise him so much...
No, far more important was the meeting with Three Dog. The disc jokey had been a breath of fresh air, a man believing in the future, far from the bitter and frightened people that seemed to roam the wastes without any purpose or kindness left in them. So different from that greedy Colin...this guy had given his information freely, for the mere exchange of a promise.
To go to the museum of technology and get a relay disc...it sounded simple, though John knew better by now. He already had the information though...maybe he should just press on? A promise was just air after all...and how important was it compared to his search for his father? James could be in mortal danger at this very moment! But...no...it was wrong, how would he be able to face his father if he had gotten to him through dishonesty?
He would feel shame, and shame he could not bear.
Smiling he forced himself to stand up, and to ignore the quizzing looks of the rotting inhabitants. He was a proud man, it was part of what pushed him on he knew. Without it he would...die? Or worse...become one of those disgusting raiders?
Weaklings...
The smile turned grim. He could feel the change wrought upon him, was the wasteland turning him into something new? Corrupting him? How could he think another person as...a weakling? It was the thought of a tyrant, a thought of a super mutant...a monster. Never back in the vault had he thought of another a weakling, he had despised Butch...but he had never discarded the man as useless.
Shrugging John turned towards the stairs, brushing aside the worrying thoughts as he focused on the moment instead. He was a little curious about that place Tulip had mentioned, the ninth circle...if nothing else he could get a drink, which his aching body probably needed. Shouldering his pack, now far lighter then before, which was a blessing, he moved towards the mouldy doors on top of the stairs.
The inside was as dingy as the rest of underworld, though the smell of rot and yeast was here complemented by another assortment of smells. Puke, cigarettes and...something sweet? Though equally lighted as the rest of underworld it was still darker, a slight smog drifting across the top of the room...the grimace of disgust appeared despite John's best efforts.
Fourteen ghouls were in the room,a dozen of them clustered around worn tables spread across the room. Despite there being far fewer drinks than ghouls on the tables none made a move to leave or get a new drink, most staring at their hands with vacant eyes. Druggies...John wasn't sure what frightened him more, his recognition of their state or the fact he didn't get upset by it.
The other two figures were of more interest.
One stood behind the counter over at the far end of the room, obviously the owner of the place, and probably quite rich judging by the quite clean business suit he wore along with the shelves behind him filled with drinks and glasses brazenly put on display. The fact he had a safe in the corner of the bar didn't go unnoticed either, nor the way he so relaxed stood behind the counter, obviously trusting the druggies not to make any fuzz.
The reason for that was centred on the second standing figure, this one stood in the right corner, arms crossed in front of him and rigidly standing in the corner. The leather armour and shotgun the ghoul possessed seemed moulded to him. But the scary part was the ghoul himself though, he was probably a head taller then John and sported a pair of massive shoulders...and a glare that instantly made John look away.
Whoa...
Stepping over to the counter, none but the owner and the gorilla of the bar looked at him, the others lost in the own world. John sat down on one of the stools by the counter, the owner him already putting a surprisingly clean glass in front of him on the counter. "Yes smoothie? What will it be?" He turned a milky eye to John's weary look. "Scotch?"
"Yeah, sure." John nodded as he dropped his pack down to his feet. "Not surprised to see a smoothskin here?" John frowned, God...was he getting used to referring himself like that? "Who are you anyway?"
"I'm Ahzrukhal, owner of this fine establishment." The ghoul answered while pouring John a glass. Did all ghouls have weird names!? "And no, smoothskins come here from time to time...though most doesn't look as tired as you..." The ghoul grinned, obviously sensing that caps could be made. "Need something to wake you up? Get through the day? Jet...maybe some psycho?" Despite the horrible features of ghouls in general John somehow managed to find the grin of this one particular ugly.
"No that's okay." John raised a hand to wave the offer off. Though the idea of getting some relaxation was tempting...especially after the recent beatings...he still dreaded the thought of losing control of his own actions. Instead he shot a thumb backwards, aiming to change the subject before he managed to offend this creepy man: "Who's the scary guy in the corner? Doesn't look like one of your customers."
Ahzrukhal glanced at the monster, a smug smile on the remains of his lips. "Oh that's Charon. He obeys my every word, he's my security here, making sure people keep in line and tossing out troublemakers. Heck, I don't even have to pay him, just feed him."
"He's your slave?" John frowned, he had heard a few mentions here and there about slavers...even with his recent experiences he had no sympathy for such practices. To have a ghoul enslave another ghoul as well...it seemed even worse for some reason. Though it was a little odd that such a monster could be forced into slavery...
The ghoul pulled back, apparently finding John's look insulting. "Look here kid, I don't need you lecturing me about something that's none of your business." He drummed his fingers on the counter, watching John taking a sip from his glass...a little watery scotch wasn't it? "I see it more as a partnership. Charon was a member of some crazy cult apparently, can't do nothing without someone holding his contract." He patted the front pocket of his suit. "So I hold his contract so he got something to do, in return I get a perfectly loyal employee."
"A crazy cult?" John quizzed, what the hell was wrong with the world nowadays? Bet it wasn't like this back before the war... "So you just...let him hang around here? Without pay? And he's okay with it?"
"I haven't asked him." Ahzrukhal replied, heh, at least he was honest about his bastard ways... "I suppose he likes fighting, at least he get a bit more lively when tossing some drunk on his ass, not that I care anyway."
"Likes fighting eh?" John muttered, rubbing his chin as his tired mind worked around the information. His previous thoughts about the caps were still relevant...caps were worthless when you're being fired upon. And with so many super mutants in this area he could use some help... Though dealing in what was essentially slavery was repugnant...but as Ahzrukhal had said, Charon needed something to do. But even if he was brainwashed and couldn't act without someone holding his contract the whole idea left a sour taste...
"Smoothskin? Are you still in there?" Ahzrukhal interrupted John's thoughts with a wave, despite the milky eyes John sensed...greed?
"Ahzrukhal, is that contract of yours..." Yes, call it a contract instead of a person, that'll ease your conscience...hypocrite. "For sale?"
"Well I'm not sure...he's a valuable employee, he keeps the annoying drunks away and makes sure the peace is kept..." The ghoul rubbed his cheek, not noticing the strip of flesh dropping off him as he contemplated John's question. John had an odd feeling of being weighted...great, another Colin trying to rip him off for all he was worth... "Though I could always fix something new if it comes down to it. I believe two thousand caps would suffice to make me part with his contract."
"Two thousand...!" John winced at the annoyed looks he got from the patrons around the bar, but God...that was a horrible amount of caps! For what basically was a guy standing in the corner...eyeing Ahzrukhal John felt inspiration strike. "So you want me to pay you two thousand caps for a guy who's basically useless to you? Who just stands there and consumes food? Lets be honest here...these druggies here aren't much of a trouble." The light in Ahzrukhal's face told him he'd hit a nerve...
"You...might have a point." The ghoul replied, leaning so far forward that John found himself recoiling. Ghouls were, despite John's efforts to think otherwise...disgusting. And apparently this one knew how to use that to his advantage, which in itself was disgusting. "A thousand five hundred."
"Ha! A thousand and I won't mention this watered down scotch to the others around underworld." Heh, odd how he had the balls to come with a threat all of a sudden...who could have imagined the meek John doing that a couple of weeks ago? John grinned at the thought, making the ghoul in front of him grin back, as if to assert his dominance in the bartering.
"They don't come here for the drinks." Ahzrukhal laughed, apparently not fazed by the threat. "Fine, a thousand, I've gotten tired of that thing glaring at me all the time anyway..." Holding out his left hand he reached into his pocket and retrieved a neatly folded piece of yellowed paper. "Enjoy him in good health now." John grimaced at seeing the heavy pouch of money being handed over, but considering the many scraps he was getting into...
Nodding to Ahzrukhal John stepped off the stool, his bad drink forgotten in his eagerness to know his new employee. No! Stop thinking about that, if he really was brainwashed and needed someone to serve you're probably helping him by riding him of this boss...yes, that's a good way to think of it. "Hey you, Charon." The ghoul turned his head to look at him but didn't say anything, nor move out of his rigid stance. Swallowing John forced himself to hold up the yellowed paper and speak: "I have your contract."
The words felt a little inadequate to convey the message, but the ghoul still blinked in surprise, eyes fixed on the little piece of paper as if John didn't even exist. "I...see." The voice of the ghoul was the usual raspy thing, if a little deeper than normal. "You are my new master then...would you give me for a moment?"
"Sure thing, I got time." John waved the question aside, better start on a good foot with this guy... Besides, he needed to check the contract and understand just what he had bought...while Charon stalked off with purposeful steps he opened the frail piece of paper. The text was faded and written in small cursive script...John squinted and pulled it closer in an effort to read it.
"What the...? This thing doesn't make sense..." He shook his head, there was just a short list of things he couldn't ask of the ghoul, most which seemed quite ridiculous...all other orders were apparently legit. Other than that there were just a few words telling him in exaggerated words just how loyal Charon was...but there were no instructions as to what happened if the ghoul disobeyed or didn't have an owner...as if the possibility didn't even exist. "Hey Charon, what happens if..."
BOOM!
Jumping and turning around John saw Charon put his shotgun back over his back. Ahzrukhal lay atop the counter, his chest cracked open in a gaping wound, as was his mouth as he stared into the ceiling in a frozen look of horror. Oh God...John had just been talking to that guy! Charon just walked over to him, a neutral look on his face, then stopped before him and assumed that rigid stance of his...waiting...
"Charon...what the hell!?" John recoiled, feeling a mix of nausea and chock as he gestured for the dead proprietor. The others by the tables also looked up, their drugged eyes taking in the sight with numb looks. Wasn't anyone going to step in!? John heard the door behind him slam open as other citizens rushed in to see what had happened...then close again as they just hurried away. "You can't just shoot people like that! You want us to get killed!?"
The ghoul just shrugged, glancing at the people still sitting by their tables, most of them already back at looking at their hands... No one cares... "He was an asshole." The ghoul shrugged again, his face completely neutral as he kept looking at John. How long could the ghoul just stand there and wait? A long time John guessed...feeling a little uneasy under the uncaring eyes focused on him. "I'm awaiting orders."
"Erm...right..." John scratched his head, his heart still fluttering with fright. Why wasn't anyone trying to arrest them or something!? Did everyone fear Charon that much? Or was Ahzrukhal really that much of an asshole? "So...you're ready to leave now? Or is it something else you need doing? Erm..." He grimaced, realising he had gotten over his head...
The ghoul didn't move, not at all affected by John's confusion or chock. Nor the growing pool of blood covering the counter of the bar... "Where you go, I follow." Such a simple existence...John had difficulty wrapping his head around it, or maybe it was so difficult because of the recent murder of his armed slave! Charon was still standing there though, waiting.
"Right...erm...you think anyone would mind me taking my caps back?"