A/N: I want to extend a thanks to Argente for reviewing! To reply to your concerns, I'm not trying to be sexist but it's inevitable that gender bias in favor of men would occur in the wasteland, as I learned though sociology. To put it simply, if you needed someone to lift heavy objects, work harder, and most importantly carry on the family name and genes, most societies would prefer men.

This story also contains one of zGreece's characters in collaboration with myself. I have still got to work out some more details but they should be included in the next chapter.

Again standard disclaimer: All trademarks belong to their respective owners, including Fallout 3 to Bethesda, various real life trademarks, and of course my (and in this case zGreece's) character(s). I don't plan to earn any money off of this. Please read and review.

"I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly." – Winston Churchill

Chapter 9: Client 9

I thought about my decision carefully. Regardless of what I chose, something was going to get blown up, if that made it any easier. What to choose? Hearing the screams of a thousand people being swallowed up by the Earth? Nah, I wasn't that bad of a son of a bitch that everyone would love to hate. I tried to concentrate on the little square that was flickering on the bottom of the screen but that didn't help. It was such a complicated decision. I resorted to mindlessly pressing the up arrow and down arrow keys on the aging terminal.

"Don't you dare activate that, thing!" Megan muttered behind my back. A collapsed station and tunnel wasn't of much use to us anyway if we were stupid enough to ever come back. I realized that at least.

"I know, but I have a better reason than you trying to influence my decision," I scoffed, making my decision final. I selected the option for the self-destruct sequence. It was probably the quickest and the most painless way to do it.

I heard one beep validating my decision, then a few more beeps. That was weird; I thought there was only a single beep to confirm anything from these screwed up computers? I thought it would stop but it didn't.

"Where is that noise coming from?" I looked around all over the place and then I looked down. A flashing red light poked out underneath the ground, right between my feet. That couldn't be good. I didn't want to lose my feet or other sensitive body parts. I bounded out from my seat and flew down the escalator, yanking Megan along the way.

"Todd!" she barked as soon as we got to the bottom. "What the fuck was that for?"

I looked at her cross, emerald eyes dubiously as I heard two short beeps followed by one long one. I tilted my head up a bit, anticipating the boom that would shortly happen right about… now. I could hear the table, computer, and the chair that I just sat on fly all over the place, all of them hitting the floor with a deafening clang that rang out throughout the station. I was glad I was not on that chair; I would've eaten some serious concrete, or worse.

I raised an eyebrow, "I guess that what it meant by 'Operation cannot be recalled.'" I sighed. "Isn't this exciting?" I said sarcastically.

"Todd, you have a terrible sense of humor," Megan shook her head.

"I was trying to bring some joy to this craphole," I groaned. I raised an eyebrow, anticipating her usual reaction to some, if not most of my comments. I didn't want to hear it this time. "But you're right," I shrugged. "Let's get outta here."

I gave out a shallow sigh and walked down the dark metro tunnel that lay in front of me, with Megan following close behind. My rifle was held snugly in my arms; like a baby except this one could shoot. If I had a knife on me, I'd easily duct tape it on or attach it somehow. It was begging for a good, sharp, pointy thing to impale ghouls with. However, the butt of the weapon would suit a ghoul's head just fine, often smashing or snapping it off with brutal efficiency. I used it on the few ghouls that dared to cross our path or charge at us, more often the latter. I think I began to like killing ghouls, mainly because they looked ugly and acted stupid, waiting to be despised and disposed of like so many worthless creatures. If they were past humans before all this shit was bombed to hell, I wouldn't have cared and have them shot anyway.

As we walked further down the tunnel with our PIP-BOYs lighting the way through the jumbled mess of trains and rubble, I wondered what it would be like to actually ride one of those. It couldn't be that bad, unless it piled up into a wreck only a super mutant mother could love. Other than our dosimeters went off at certain points, the rest of trip was relatively uneventful. No yucky mutations, no stupid psychos, and especially no trying to fight super mutants in space of a fucking closet. I knew our semi-automatic rifles were nearly useless without VATS in close quarters.

We arrived at our next station, Davis. It was run down like the last one we were in, no big surprise there. It had boards displaying the station maps, some crap that said "Tufts University", some artwork, and the jumbled piece of colored metal strung over the place like it was supposed to be artistic. Fucking hell! Who designs these!? If these were fucking modern art masterpieces expecting to be appreciated, then I must be a gurgling ghoul writing a freaking masterpiece!

I helped Megan onto the platform. It was probably used as shelter before, there were chairs, skeletons, and even some hopefully still good food waiting to be eaten. The only thing lacking was a fire. I found an old wooden crate, broke it, and arranged the wood into a little pile on the cold and dingy station floor. I don't think it would be a humongous bonfire that would last for hours, but it would do nonetheless. Then I realized that to start a fire, I needed something to light it with. How stupid was I?

"Megan, are you okay on ammo? I'm gonna try find something to start a fire," I said.

"Yeah, I'm okay. I'll stay here," she nodded. "Holler if you need some backup."

"I was going to say the same thing," I replied. I walked up the stairs in the center of platform, not knowing what I would run into, or who. I searched the lockers throughout the station. Most of them were nearly picked clean sadly. I'd imagine the poor bastards who tried to live in this place just yanking these open in sheer disparity. But through a feverish effort of searching I found a few matches slitted away between the tiny gaps in the metal. Seeing that there was no efficient way of fishing those suckers out, I tried desperately with my fingernails.

"Oh for God's sake!" I grumbled. My fingernails had a varying degree of luck when it came to these things. Sometimes when I'd though I'd get it out, it would lodge itself into a more difficult position.

"Finally!" I said with hushed excitement when I got one out, then two, then three. That should be enough to start a half-decent fire. I tucked the precious cargo into my pocket before racing back, eager to get a fire started and cook a remotely decent meal.

"I have found a fire-starter," I announced with hushed excitement.

I struck one and dropped it onto the pile, no luck. I didn't expect to start anything with these old, toothless things. I tried another one, nothing. I was down to the last one. The third time should be the charm. I hoped for the best, struck it, and it fell, igniting the wood pile.

At last, fire. Pure, comforting, fire.

I sighed, wondering what to eat or what to do before the fire ran out. Each of us eating a pack of "Cram! (Because we can't say it tastes like *?!#)" would be our best option, so we just stuck to that, roasting it over the fire with whatever pointy thing I could get my hands on, my rifle if it need be.

I tried to figure out how many nights we spent in the wasteland. "I think we're a week into the wasteland," I concluded. "Can you believe it, a week?"

"That's not a long time, Todd," Megan reminded me.

"We nearly got killed by a bunch of ghouls on the first day," I reminisced, chuckling a bit at the thought of that memory. God, we were so naive when we first came out, I think we aged pretty fast. I found a skeleton near where Megan was sitting and propped it up. "This could've been us," I said grizzly.

"How are you today old chap?" I sneered at it as it was getting harder to maintain its balance. "Was death fun to meet?"

Megan took a sip of some of her water. "Todd," she shook her head. "Your sense of humor is seriously terrible."

"So is yours," I tried to retort but I was cut off by another scream that echoed down the tunnel we just came through. I swear, don't we smell awfully fucking great to a ghoul? Our still warm human flesh must be so appealing to them! I pulled out my N99 pistol and loaded another magazine. I wish I had a grenade at times like these. Anything to make those ugly bastards shut the hell up and die.

I gripped my pistol tightly, anticipating their shrunken heads to come out of the darkness. They closed the gap between me with surprising efficiency. My shots seemed to miss more, probably because I was tired, with VATS having taken a pretty big chunk of my energy already. Despite all this, I entered into VATS again though because I knew I'd rather be dead tired than dead, dead. The ever familiar green boxes danced in front of me, a couple of bleeps confirming my selections. I was feeling generous about dishing out a few 10mm rounds so I made sure to give each ghoul its share of those.

The rounds predicatively hit their target, the ghouls dropped, and I ejected my magazine and let it fall to the floor with a clang. I breathed a collective sigh of relief; I was ready to hit the floor and go to sleep somewhere.

"Now that's over with," I yawned. I was anxious for more sleep. I don't know why VATS makes me more tired on a regular basis, it must be from the stupid calculations going through my head at lightspeed or something.

I was completely wrong when I heard another gurgle from the mutated freaks I just shot. I saw their arms move, trying to support their bodies up one last time. It was like they were rising from the dead! I just shot them! I heard a few shots later, hearing Megan's empty magazine clang to the ground shortly afterward.

Holy crap, that was close! I sheepishly grinned, "Uh… what was that expression again? 'Don't trap your ducks before they're fat enough?'" I scratched my head.

"Wrong again, Todd. Honestly," Megan shook her head while reloading another magazine. "It's 'Don't count your chickens before they are hatched.' You have a ways to go."

"A week in the wasteland counts something for me, right?" I shrugged, going back near the fire to spread out and enjoy the warmth. "I did most of the expertly crafted killing."

"I'll give you that," she sighed in defeat. "You're still a smart-ass, though-"

I raised an eyebrow. "I'd rather be a smart-ass than delusional."

"Hey," Megan nudged me. "My instincts were right-"

"Only once," I scoffed. "And that was by sheer luck."

"Oi, I saved your ass back in the Vault remember-" Megan was quick to remind me.

"I meant in the wasteland," I said smugly. "Come on," I straightened up. "Let's at least celebrate this… small victory," I called it, not knowing what to describe it as.

"With what?" Megan asked curiously.

"The 'good' water of course!" I shrugged.

"You're kidding right?" Megan fussed. "Pure water isn't handed out like candy-"

"So what? Bring it out!" I interrupted her. "If we have to drink more cancer-inducing shit and we grow extra fingers and toes because of this, I'm fine with that." Cancer-inducing shit and grow extra toes, huh? At least that seemed curable.

Megan grumbled as she took out her bottle containing pure water, I did the same. I was ready for it, ready for the tangible reward of something representing a small, but important milestone in my opinion.

Megan looked at me with a hint of dubiousness. "You know Todd, if we don't get more pure water in a month, this will be all your fault."

I chuckled. "And if I lose my sanity because of putting up with you for a month, it's all your fault, too. Cheers."

I took a few small gulps of the precious water, thankfully washing away any thoughts of the crap I had earlier, nearly getting hacked to death by ghouls, and just concentrating my thoughts on enjoying the simple pleasures, not focusing on what the consequences would be for drinking purified water so, so shamelessly. I wasn't too concerned with the future at the moment; I had no regrets.

After that little toast, I extinguished the now weakened fire with the generous amounts of dirt and dust in the area. I yawned for a while; I really needed to get some sleep, especially with that insomnia just waiting to kick in the middle of the night. Not thinking the platform we were on was a safe idea, I worked my way up the crumbling steps of the metro station to an upper level. I was not in the mood to be killed by ghouls or anything else in my sleep.

This seems to be a good place, I thought as I found a spot under an advertisement for Howard Johnson's. I'd wonder how it would be to actually sleep on those… comfortable pre-war beds… pre-war people had the shit...

I fought the glare of the sunlight that came through my eyes. I tried to sit up, but I couldn't. It was a weird sensation; it felt like I wasn't using my arms or anything to sit me back up. Succumbing to the weakness, I sighed hopelessly. I knew there were going to be days like this where I'd be too weak to sit up. I turned my head to the side, what I found was…

Todd, I'm sorry it had to come to this…

Look I have to move on, I'm afraid you'll be the death of me. I should have seen those signs all around me, but I was comfortable inside these wounds. These wounds caused by your crazy decisions.

I guess I owe you an explanation… I'm so strapped for cash that… that I'm desperate. I happened to run across Ian and your dad while you were out BINGE DRINKING of all things! You didn't utter a word when both of your arms were cut off, good boy! Either your dad was a great surgeon or you're a prick!

Love :3,

Megan

I read that note again in utter shock and disbelief. That fucking bitch! How dare she! I tried to move my stump-like arms to no avail, just flailing it around all over the place. What... oh lovely, there's a PS…

PS: You're lying on a trigger which if you happen to get off it, will send a charge to an atomic demolition round, which Ian was so kind to set up. Mind you it is a long way down. Hope you die of starvation!

I rolled my body over to look down, she was fucking right. It was a hell of a long way down!

"Che, you're useless," I heard myself materialize in front of my eyes. I couldn't believe it, myself talking to me! "Fucking PATHETIC!" It shouted and then it disappeared.

"What the hell was that?" I wondered. I noticed it materialize behind me, shortly after. I heard the distinct double clicking of someone loading a shotgun behind my back. This was not good.

I scurried, trying to look for a way to escape this god-awful situation.

"Help! Anyone, please help!" I shouted.

"Todd" I felt someone shake my shoulder. "Todd!"

I woke up suddenly in the darkness of the station and Megan's green light emanating from her PIP-BOY. "Megan, get that damn light outta my face," I waved blindly. "What the hell?" I stammered.

"Jesus Christ, are you alright?" Megan looked at me worriedly. "You were seriously spazzing out, were you having a nightmare?"

"Seriously?" I looked at her skeptically. I wasn't known for moving around in my sleep until now.

"Yeah, you were. Though, I don't recall myself being a light sleeper myself until now," she admitted, yawning and brushing her hair to the side.

I sighed, rubbing my fingers up my forehead and hair, "Yeah, I was. You wouldn't… um… cut my arms off and place a nuclear land mine under me, right?" I asked hesitantly.

Megan chuckled. "Your dreams are incredibly vivid. I wouldn't-"

The station floor rattled and shook a bit from underneath our bodies. Oh lovely, just in time, just about ruining any chances for us trying to go back to sleep. I yawned and got my rifle out, making sure to load a full magazine just in case. I walked up the stairs leading out; stopping before I reached the top, making sure my head wouldn't be blown off if I went up too fast. I slowly opened and closed the door behind me with Megan behind me. The both of us raised our rifles

I heard a commotion, but I couldn't see it where I peeked out into the dark and starless night. I stepped out into the destitute landscape, past rusted parked cars, destroyed brick buildings, hell; even the theater marquee advertised some kind of stupid tribute to the Jonas Brothers, Michael Jackson, or some sort of long forgotten musician.

"Crap!" I exclaimed as I heard a gunshot and a bullet whiz past by. "Who's there?!"

I inched forward cautiously, until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I froze.

"Oh?" I heard a feminine voice whisper in my ear. It was definitely not Megan. "You're much cuter than the other junk that passes through here. I wanna see your hands!"

I rose up my arms over my head but I didn't respond. I wasn't cute to begin with for one. I tried to slip my hand down without her noticing.

"A .45 ain't gonna brighten your day anytime soon, honey," she coyly breathed down my neck. "Same goes for you girlie pie," she turned her head toward Megan. "I just know you're gonna lob your honey's head off with it."

"Come on out boys," she said with a twinkle in her eye. "Let's turn these people into clients."

I knew this couldn't be good…

I don't remember too much beyond that, I'm pretty sure the both of us were drugged and were forced to move a quite a ways on foot from where we were originally kidnapped. I groggily forced myself up as soon as I could feel the drugs wearing off a bit. Hastily trying to regain my vision and balance, I stumbled around the drag, cold, and dark room before trying to force myself up what I perceived as stairs. I didn't know if Megan had woken up or what but I needed to find a way out before we became permanent bitches of this lady.

I coughed as I reached the top, pushing my way out of the door in front of me, which was surprisingly unlocked. I stumbled around some more, before encountering a pair of double doors guarded by someone. This had to be the way out; I'm amazed I didn't get shot yet.

"Let me out," I begged in an abjectly worthless manner. "I'll give you my rifle. I got stashers."

"One, you're unarmed," he tipped his cowboy hat up a bit, sneering at me. "And two, I'm just a merc. I don't do outside special favors."

"Seriously-" I tried to bargain.

I was kicked to the ground. "Seriously. I also don't take too kindly to prisoners groveling at me for favors," he said, pointing his shotgun at me.

"Now, now merc'y boyo," I heard that familiar woman over the intercom. "I know you're itching for action, but let's not damage the fresh catch too badly… mm'kay?"

"Yes, ma'am," He put away his shotgun. "I'm sorry."

"Apology noted. I'll send a couple people to drag these two up."

That was close… that was WAY too close…

All I remember was getting dragged up a couple stairs after that. I'm guessing the crap they injected into my body messed with my memories as well, damn. I was sat down in a chair that felt like it was going to break from under me. I could hear Megan being forced to stumble in. Damn, the drugs affected her more than me.

"Ma'am, we brought these two up like you said," I heard one of them say.

"Good job," she replied. "Now get a move on."

I heard a door close behind me. "What the hell do you want from us? If you're just gonna kill us, kill us now, Goddammit!" I yelled.

I heard another gunshot and another bullet going past me, most likely her .45; I've never seen her use anything else.

"The .45 is a wonderful cartridge," she coyly purred. "Less than half an inch in diameter, it strikes fear into the hearts of countless men, like you. As for what I want to do with you, killing isn't one of them. Consider this a job interview. Name's Jesse Firns by the way."

"A job interview? I was drugged here for a job interview?!" I couldn't believe it. That is just one crazy bitch.

"Exactly, honey," Jesse replied. "If I'm right the drugs should be wearing off any time now."

The blurriness out of my eyes slowly weakened as the drugs wore off. In front of me was a petite woman with long, flowing auburn hair contrasting with her aquamarine eyes. She looked and acted quite nice, but underneath all that, I knew that she was batshit crazy just like the rest of us. The wasteland sure as hell didn't discriminate. She got up on the desk and crossed her legs, tugging at her trench coat a bit.

"What the hell was put into my system?" I demanded.

"Settle down hon', too many questions yeah?" she yawned a bit. "That stuff's a secret but Dr. Wesley told me it's perfectly safe, says it's from the Institute."

I didn't trust her but I really didn't want a .45 caliber bullet drilled into me every time I said something that could possibly challenge her ego.

"So where was I?" Jesse said, getting off her desk and walking toward me. "Your job, should you chose to accept it, would be to help us find this," she said, pulling out a small advertisement that read Tufts University. It didn't look familiar… No wait, that name was in the station we were at right? Even then, I didn't know where it was to begin with. "I don't know about you but finding this place would be very important to us, and you'll be paid of course."

"So that's why you resort to drugging and kidnapping, huh? Just shooting randomly in the dark?"

"Well, it's the best we can do at the moment really," she shrugged. "Tried eight times before but we're getting close, I know it."

That excuse was terribly weak, but I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. "But why the two of us?" I asked skeptically. "Why not someone else? Or even your squad for that matter?"

"Because boyo," she whispered, "willing and working labor is expensive. That merc you ran into is the cheapest I could afford and my squad, the Tuff Gong Squad, ain't the best with a sense of direction, if ya' know what I mean."

"And what if I don't?"

"We can always negotiate," she explained. She seemed confident about it and I would if I had the time but I didn't buy it. If I had a professional relationship with her, we could've negotiated something but all bets were off considering the two of us were ambushed. Besides, that place was back at where we were ambushed, I needed to move forward along the Metro line, not backward. It was just out of the question, I couldn't accept it. Especially not what Megan and I were put through.

"Forget the negotiations," I firmly said. "Deal's off. I-"

"Pardon the interruption, ma'am," one of the squad members burst through the door. "But we got muties!"

"Ugh. I'll be over," Jesse waved off and walked past by me. "You're free to go if you want, but I'd doubt you'd want to walk straight into super mutants. The love to surround things, boyo."

I heard the door close behind me. Megan was unfortunately still out from the effects of the very same drug they injected in me. I wasn't so sure if it was safe or not. I wasn't eager to suddenly grab a gun and start defending this place like these were my best friends, hell no. As I heard the first gunshots fly, I looked at the terminal that lay there on her desk and booted it up.

Welcome back ma'am! What may I do for you today?

I read one of the logs.

Client #8: Larry

Mission Failure. Tim tried with his big guns. We were lucky; we nearly stumbled onto a screaming eagle den…

"Uunnhh…" I heard Megan groan, she's still alive, thank god.

"You alright, Megan?" I rushed over and helped her up as best I could.

"Todd, where are we?" Megan asked, still a bit dazed.

"I don't know," I answered. Then it hit me, I didn't know where the hell we were now. Thankfully, our PIP-BOYs were still attached; I can't believe how much of an idiot I was for not checking. I brought up the map. I couldn't tell where exactly where we were but when I scrolled out I could see a little marker that read, "The Institute."

Now to figure out how to get the hell out of here and get to the Institute; that would be our next challenge…

TO BE CONTINUED...

A/N: Subtle References I'd like to point out (of course there are more)

- I had a nightmare similar to what Todd went through. The second line of Megan's letter of Todd's dream is a reference to "Death of Me" by RED with the first two lines squeezed in. I'm just replaying the music video on youtube right now.

- Client-9 is the code name referring to former Governor Spitzer in the now infamous scandal that led to his resignation.

- The idea of an eviler self appearing insides is a common cliche but I borrowed it from Bleach.