Of Chains and Bindings

Summary – Ben's POV – this is not the first time that he's been tied up and it probably won't be the last; a look inside his mind while he frees himself from the Ranger's bindings.

Note – Season 2 Episode 3 – After the fight between the Ranger and the Scorpion

Warning – cussing, one instance of implied sex / sexual reactions

Disclaimer – I do not own or pretend to own anything from either the Fallout games or from Nuka Break, the web-series.

Ben unsteadily knelt down to retrieve the dropped knife, careful not to catch any of his rough skin on the blade as he quickly started sawing through the tight cords. It was a fluid, practiced movement - this was not the first time he had been tied up, nor would it probably be the last, but each and every time seemed to be quicker at eroding what was left of his sanity.

The first time actually hadn't been the worst, even though it had been the longest, logging in at just over a week in chains. Immediately after his body had stopped changing and he had still felt weak, lying alone in an abandoned house while trying to regain his strength, a traveling group had figured out someone was living there. They ambushed him for his meager supplies, using the chains from several abandoned bicycles nearby to tie him hands to feet. When they found out that the radiation from the metal chains healed him (a surprise to all of them after what the radiation had already done to his body), it had become more of a trade than theft - they had given him all of their irradiated food and he had gladly given over what remained of the untainted bits he had been hoarding. The morning that they had moved on, one young man had been ordered to stay behind, untie him, apologize, and explain...though not necessarily in that order. Ben apparently hadn't been the first person they had seen looking like he did, but he had been the first one who hadn't attacked them on sight, and since they couldn't afford to lose anymore people or goods, they had used the opportunity to make sure that he wouldn't be able to hurt them. After seeing some feral ghouls attack another, unluckier wandering group later on, Ben let go of any lingering resentment. Thankfully ghouls didn't attack ghouls, and those people hadn't really hurt him. It had even been nice for a little while, not being so alone.

Unlike the second time. Another roaming group, as cruel as the first one had been kind. They and Ben had come upon an intact restaurant simultaneously, but there would be no trading or sharing. After catching him off guard and tying him to a decorative entrance column, they ransacked the place, ending with a celebration outside on the deadened lawn hours later. Most of the details of those nights were happily a part of Ben's missing memory, but he could still feel his anger from when they drank and ate in front of him without giving him anything, his embarrassment from when the free flowing liquor made exhibitionist group sex a great idea, and the following shame from when his body showed interest. Thankfully they didn't want to touch him anymore than they had to, so they didn't directly do anything to him - which unfortunately included untying him when they left 3 days later. If it weren't for a fellow ghoul, exploring the area with pipe-dreams of food, he'd probably still be there today, a pile of bones bleached in the sun.

The third time was very different, years removed from the first two. This was the beginning of a more dangerous period in the Mojave, when many of the people left were bastards and the good guys were getting their asses handed to them. There were points when Ben honestly considered seeing if the rumored ghoul city in the ruins of DC was true - less now for the novelty and more for the safety. He had been to the Capitol Wasteland before, but had dismissed it as a suicide mission trying to get to it. But this time...it had been a single woman, at least in the beginning, that brought him down. He had thought her a fool to be crying on the edge of the road, open for anyone to attack, but he was the bigger fool for stopping and trying to help. Her gang jumped him, hobbling his legs so he couldn't run or kick, and when he woke up he was tied to a line of seven other miserable ghouls.

They were slaves, he had been haughtily informed by the woman. Or if that didn't suit him, he could be dead. This group didn't have a problem with touching them - beatings were normal and given out for any slight infraction, real or imagined. Irradiated water was intermittently poured over open wounds, so that while they were in constant agony, no one would actually die. In the five longest days of Ben's life as a ghoul, he saw what humanity had sunk to and began to work on his stealth. Pain was the best teacher, and at the end of the fifth day he and several others were running free; dodging bullets, hiding from the gang and sometimes being recaptured, but mostly free. Ben had seen Ethel and Doris caught while Steve was shot point blank in the head several times - something he never wanted to think about again was why the women ghouls were more valuable than the men.

After that he tired of counting the number of times he was tied up, and began to count the curves and lines of knots. Years of practice made him sneakier than ever, and he worked at it even more so that in about 95% of situations, he could turn it to his advantage before or after being tied up.

Until a random ranger had bound his arms - that 5% was a bitch.

Ben frantically threw the leathers far, far away from him with a muffled oath. When all this crap was over, he and the ranger were going to have a little gun-to-head chat about why tying him up was a such bad idea...after he made sure the bastard was still breathing. It would be kind of hard threatening a corpse.

He strode over to where the Ranger lay on his back and Ben finally saw the blood dripping from the wound the Scorpion had inflicted.

"Hooooleey Jesus."