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I don't own Fallout or any of it's content.

Chapter Three

Bloody Hell!

Kylar brooded over this. Four hundred caps to crawl to the Museum of Technology, get a satellite, bring it to the Washington Memorial, hook it up, then back here….but the guy did save my life. Damn my conscience.

"Fine, fine. I'll do it." Kylar sighed.

********

Many hours later, around eight in the evening, the duo emerged, cautious and weary, from the Mall NorthWest Metro Station. Kylar hadn't been as tired as he was now since an afternoon of boxing with Harkness. Or as sore, for that matter. Or bruised.

"Oohhh." Marisa groaned. "We should stop." Kylar stood up straighter.

"We could keep going, but I'm not an idiot. You aren't as used to the Wasteland Life as I am, or a lot of other people for that matter. You're in no condition to be fighting Super Mutants. C'mon." He beckoned. "We'll spend the night in Underworld."

Marisa stretched, then trudged forwards. "Underworld?" She asked questioningly.

"Yeah. City of Ghouls. Only real safe place for 'em." Kylar informed. Marisa's face gave away that she had no clue what a Ghoul was. Kylar laughed. "You don't know what Ghoul is, do you?"

Marisa looked away. "No." She rolled her shoulders. "What are they? Are they dangerous?"

Kylar cocked his head to the side and back. "They can be, if you get on their bad side. They're two groups of Ghouls. Feral, and Non-Feral. The Ferals will attack pretty much anybody and anything that isn't one of them. Non-Ferals are Ghouls with their minds intact. They're people."

Marisa shot Kylar a confused look. "If they're people, why're they called Ghouls?" She asked. "Why not just call them people?"

Kylar was about to answer, when he crouched and held up a hand. Marisa froze. Kylar unholstered his tranquilizer, and started creeping forwards. "Wait here." He commanded.

Kylar disappeared into the darkness, leaving a frightened Marisa alone. Great. She thought. He's probably going to ditch you. After thinking that, she shook her head vigorously. Cut that out. He's all the help you have, and you're nervous enough as is.

Six nerve-wracking minutes later, Kylar returned. "C'mon. Need to show you something." Marisa's tense shoulders relaxed. "What is it?" She asked.

"Come." Kylar said. He stood up, re-holstered his tranquilizer, and drew his tanto. "You need to see to understand."

Marisa followed the Wastelander, close behind. What the Vaultie saw shook her to the cores. On the ground, a dart sticking out of it's neck, was a..thing. It was smaller than the Behemoth, but easily two or three feet taller than the tallest man.

"What..what the hell is that?!" Marisa spluttered, eyes wide. "Why is it yellow?" She asked, after calming down.

Kylar shook his head. Questions, questions, and more questions. I should become a professer. He crouched down, and answered. "It's called a Super Mutant. Ugly sons'a bitches, physically and socially. Steer clear of these guys. They travel in packs of four or five, usually carrying boards, missle launchers, sometimes Assault Rifles. Miniguns or Gatling lasers, if you're unlucky."

He tensed the blade, but relaxed it. "Which I am, just so you know."

Marisa laughed, a light careless laugh. It comforted Kylar. So few laughed now, it was a rare and valued commodity. And even more the better if it was a true and beautiful laugh. Back to work. He thought.

Kylar took a bottle of whiskey out of a pocket, and uncorked the top. It was filled with a reddish brown liquid. Marisa gestured towards the bottle. "Please tell me that's not what it looks like."

Kylar shrugged, propped the mutant's neck up, and positioned the bottle under it. "If it looks like a dog dancing on top of a Radscorpion, the it's not what it looks like." Marisa rolled her eyes, and Kylar chuckled. "It's their blood, my friend."

He sliced the tanto across the jugular of the Mutant, and it filled a good half inch of the bottle. Kylar shook the head, recorked the bottle, and put it away. "And why," Marisa asked. "do you do this?"

"Simple. A caravaner dealing in medicine does a certain something to it, which only he and I know, that turns it into a powerful tranquilizer. With that, he plucked the dart out of the Mutant, and stood back up. They walked away from the body, when Kylar stopped.

"Hungry?" Kylar asked. Marisa nodded, and Kylar sat down. He pulled out a small sack attatched to his belt-loop. He opened it, and pulled out some bread looking things.

"Those are?" Marisa asked. Kylar didn't understand her at all. When he left, he waited in the shadows out of sight watching her for two minutes.

Hmph. Women. Leave them in the dark, and they nearly cry. Show them their first Super Mutant, bleed it dry, and act nonchalant while doing so, she doesn't freak out.

"These," Kylar said, passing one to Marisa. "are Mirelurk cakes. Wonderful stuff." Kylar explained, biting into one. "Very filling too." He added. Marisa was reluctant at first, but devoured it after discovering the crab-like flavor.

"And to answer your question Marisa, Ghouls are Ghouls because they do not look like people. Imagine being you. Now imagine being exposed to lethal amounts of radiation. To most people, this would kill you." Kylar explained.

Marisa rolled her eyes. "Hence the word, 'Lethal'."

Kylar continued. "But, in some cases, if your genetic code is a match for some unknown requisite, you do not die. You become a Ghoul. And how people know you're a Ghoul is quite simple. Your skin sloughs off."

Marisa choked on her food. He did not just say what I think he did. "It what?" Marisa coughed.

"Your skin sloughs off. Bare muscle, some skin, and some hair's all that's left, but that's about it." Kylar explained.

Marisa immediately regretted eating the food. "And…they live like that?" She asked.

Kylar nodded. "Yup. Some of 'em are even alive from before the war." He put the un-eaten food back in the pouch, and stood back up. He exhaled heavily. "Well, come on. UnderWorld's not far."

Marisa jumped up, and started to follow him. "What do you mean still alive?" She asked.

Kylar sighed. "Gah. Know why there's no sickness out here in D.C?"

Marisa shook her head, wondering where this would lead. "No sickness?" She asked.

Kylar sighed again, and nodded. "Yeah. The rads kill off every virus out there. But that's not to say a wound can't get infected. Well anyways, the radiation does a version of that to Ghouls. It extends their lifespan."

Marisa's eyes widened. Immortality?! I need to get myself exposed to some ra-….right. Might die. Plus no skin…never mind. She thought on this for a while, walking in silence, when she noticed Kylar staring at her.

"Immortality?" She asked, trying to get the conversation started again.

Kylar snorted. "Hmph. Your lifespan is measured by measuring your HayFlick limit. For most Ghouls, it's a hundred to five hundred years. For the 'lucky' few, they can last upwards of a thousand years."

Marisa whistled. "Thousand years. Woo—ow."

"Would you want to spend a thousand years as a corpse, with people discriminating against you, never looking you in the eye, and no sex?" He asked incredulously? "I thought not."

Marisa shuffled her feet. "I guess not." She murmered. She started walking again, but her way was blocked by Kylar's outstretched arm. "Welcome." He said, sweeping his other head out in front of him. "To UnderWorld."

There's Chapter Three. Don't really know what so say here….BOINGO BOINGO JIGGLY KNICKERS!!

Zellojello – Thanks again.

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Th. Mint