Do you ever think about leaving?
Amata looks up from the reading assignment on her Pip-Boy- a brief recount of some American History. World War II. Axis and Allies. The Good versus The Bad. So very black and white. Amata crosses her brows and stares at her as though she had just begun speaking some foreign language.
What?
She drops her voice so as not to be overheard, even though they're the only ones in the cafeteria.
The Vault.
God, no, are you out of your mind? Amata scrolls a few pages before looking around to ensure they really are alone, and then asks back, have...you?
She lowers her eyes to her reading. It's due tomorrow. Pop quiz. Twenty random questions all pulled from this giant block of text.
No.
She's lying, but Amata falls for it, visibly relieved for her friend as she outreaches a hand to squeeze over her own.
For a second there, you kind of scared me. No one leaves the Vault, right?
She only hums in agreeance, taking in the words but not quite digesting the information. Japan had forfeited surrender. Do or die. They had chosen death, and the bombs were dropped.
The temperature rose with the coming of the sun over the horizon, and she crawled into his lap and washed her hot breath over his tongue. He mounted her from behind, with their knees dug in the sand and her suit tucked past her thighs as he slipped his cock inside her hot cunt for a Good Morning all of its own.
The walk to Tenpenny Tower fortunately lacked deathclaws, raiders, and unforeseen cannibalistic communities. Rather, it was filled with her chatterbox running so fast a fuse should've shorted out, and her life down in Vault 101 was given without his consent to listen to. They walked side-by-side, with his stride shortened to keep her in pace as he kept his shotgun propped over one shoulder while his free hand was being held by hers. Charon didn't say much (or anything at all, for that matter), but he would sometimes grunt or nod to whatever she spoke of; his sharp eyes kept on the wastes. Dogmeat sprinted and rolled and attempted to dig to China along their journey, his putrid farts blessedly released far downwind.
"That's when I found out you could trick the dispenser into rationing two snack cakes. I don't think Stanley ever caught on, but he wasn't very bright to begin with…"
The gift of gab was used and thoroughly abused by the time they had reached the outer perimeter of the tower's gate, and Charon dropped her hand to realign his shotgun at his chest.
"What?" She shaded the sun from her eyes, catching sight of a newly spray-painted sign.
NO SMOOTHSKINS ALLOWED!
Charon rasped as he tugged at her elbow, "We should-"
But she pulled away from him and marched straight to the intercom to hold down the button with a shouted, "I demand to speak with Roy Phillips!"
The gate opened, and a few ghoulified sentries met them with their muzzles lowered.
"Hey, you're that Vault kid." The closest one indicated to her suit. "Mister Phillips has told us about you two. He said you're free to come and go, just be on your best behavior. You'll find him on the top floor." He squinted at Charon standing beside her. "Normally, we just shoot any smoothskin that gets too close."
They then parted to allow them entry, and Evelyn shared a look with her companion as he went to open the double doors.
"Be careful," was all Charon told her, and she nodded as he ushered them in.
They stood in the lobby, the leather of his glove brushing the skin of her palm as everything became quiet except for a faint, crystal rendition of a song from ages past. Her feet felt glued to the pristine flooring, and Charon was suddenly guiding her forward by the hand, his size alone parting the sea of ghouls crowded before them.
It was as though she had stepped inside an upside-down Underworld. They all lacked noses and wore fine jewelry. They had missing teeth and were adorned with stiff wigs. The ironed suits and dashing gowns had flecks of blood that were too stubborn to be scrubbed out. They whispered with their hoarse voices, their cataract eyes watching their every step.
"So that's the Vault dweller everyone keeps talking about? Doesn't look like much…"
"Another 'ghoul manservant', eh? How barbaric."
"Smoothskins always think they're better than the rest of us…"
There was fresh paint rolled in some places, a shade too dark to blend in, and the columns had chips that had been hastily sanded down. Evelyn pressed the button for the top floor, noticing a bloodied fingerprint still stamped over it. When the elevator opened, they stepped in and turned to stare at all of them, and when the doors closed, she looked up.
"They're all dead, aren't they?" she asked softly.
Ding!
A waft of cigar smoke and upbeat laughter rolled out the red carpet upon their arrival. Evelyn went to move aside as a drunken resident stumbled towards them with a ghoul woman under his arm, their garbled laughter a harsh contrast to the sweet jazz music drifting through the corridor.
"C'mon, baby! Let's go- erp! -get a real party going!" he rasped, nearly colliding into the wall. The woman (wearing too short of a sequin party dress) lost a high-heeled shoe, but she didn't care to notice as she erupted in a fit of giggles. The ghoul raised his head just in time to notice them after they had exited, and he threw Evelyn a dirty wink. "Room 211, see ya there, toots!"
The elevator whirred as it began its descent. Evelyn turned to approach Tenpenny's former suite, halted by a table of four armed sentries playing cards and smoking cigarettes.
They all looked at them, and one grunted as he tossed a few caps in the growing pile, "Mister Phillips isn't taking visitors at the moment…not even for you, smoothskin."
Evelyn stamped a foot forward and jabbed a fingertip at the closed door. "You better tell Roy I want to talk to him, and I want to talk with him now."
"Oh, yeah?" They eyed the big ghoul that easily stood a foot over them all, their hands resting politely over their guns. "Or what?"
A rush of air interrupted the standoff as the only ghoul she recognized thus far belted out a raspy, "Well, well, well, finally decided to come visit, smoothskin?" Roy Phillips adjusted the belt of his posh velvet robe, his hand raised as the sentries went to stand. "Easy, boys. This here's the guest of honor- so you'll show her a bit of respect."
They nodded, all rasping some form of, "Yessir, Mister Phillips."
Roy left the door wide open and beckoned them with a few waves of his hand. "Come on in, smoothskin, and close the door behind you." He blinked at the dog on their heels. "Huh…nice mutt."
The trio followed him around the foyer. The flowers had all wilted in their unkempt garden bed, with only weeds left to thrive. She coughed into her elbow at the astounding cloud of smoke they walked through, her tongue laying a carpet of Ultra Jet fumes and the smell of something…musky.
Bessie stood from her fainting chair at the sight of her walking in. "Hello, dearie, it is so good to see you!" She strode over to clasp her hands before turning to the drink cart. "Care for a drink? Water? Liquor? Wine? We have everything here."
"No." Evelyn cleared her throat (mostly due to the haze) and gave Roy a hard look as he only sat in a big chair and lit a cigar. "What the fuck happened with the other residents?"
There was a clatter as Bessie dropped a crystal stopper on the tray, muttering under her breath, "Woops…clumsy me."
Roy pulled his eyes away from his woman and sneered at Evelyn, "You got a problem, smoothskin?"
Evelyn came closer. "Where the fuck is everyone else?!"
Bessie plastered on a fake smile despite the fear spoiling her eyes, and poured a glass that she attempted to hand over to soothe Evelyn's prickled nerves.
"Here, have this, you'll feel better," she rasped, but Evelyn took the drink and threw it at the wall.
The sharp sound of crystal shattering placed everyone's neck at the edge of a knife, the wasted alcohol staining the faded wallpaper.
Roy sat straight and warned her, "Just remember whose glass house you're throwing stones in, smoothskin."
Evelyn barked a hollow laugh. "Oh, really, me?! I trusted you! I convinced all of those people to let you in, and you just fucking murdered them!"
"And they would've done the same to us, if they'd had their way," he rasped, pointing a finger at her face. "That's what you came to us for, wasn't it?"
Bessie suddenly spoke up from the side, her voice quiet and eyes solemn. "You don't know what it's like, being one of us. You wouldn't understand."
"I understand plenty," Evelyn scathed venomously. "Tenpenny was right…you're nothing but a bunch of fucking monsters."
Bessie sincerely gasped as Roy stood from his chair to encroach upon her, halting before he came too close as the shadow behind her grew.
He gave her a full once-over, his growl nasty and deep. "We do what we have to to survive out here, and Tenpenny and all those other fucking bastards were no different. You're no different. You may not be one of us on the outside, smoothskin, but I can tell just by the look in your eyes that you're the same as me."
"I'm nothing like you," she snarled.
He grinned, his smile too wide to be friendly, the visible muscle making his face more gaunt and hollow. "We all end up as monsters out here, whether you like it, or not." He gave a curt jut of his chin to Charon. "That's what you got him for, ain't it? Trading smoothskin pussy for protection? You got your ways, and I got mine."
She spat at his face, and he took a step back to wipe at the smear of saliva she had landed in his right eye.
The ghoul chuckled, but it was empty and sent a chill through her bones. "We'll see just how long you can hold out for, smoothskin…but remember, you'll do what it takes to make it up here." He called out, "Simmons!"
A thundering of boots arrived at their backs. Dogmeat growled as one came too close.
Roy instructed, "Take them outside. Shoot the smoothskin if she tries to come back. She's outstayed her welcome." He looked over her to Charon. "You, on the other hand, will always have a place to call home here. I don't go back on one of our own, even if she does have you wrapped around her little finger. When this bitch is drier than a sandbox, you know where you can come back to, but for now, get the fuck out. You've pissed me off enough."
Evelyn glanced over to Bessie and the necklace she had proudly hung around her neck- the same necklace Margaret Primrose had been wearing when she had served her mirelurk cakes in the cafe.
"Rot in Hell," was all Evelyn said, and she turned on her heel to march out under the watchful eyes of the ghoul brigade.
"Keep walking, smoothskin," the guard at her back warned as they stepped inside the elevator, and the three of them were escorted through the lobby, surrounded by the glowing eyes of everyone who stood around to watch.
"Good riddance."
"The only good smoothskin is a dead smoothskin, as I've always said."
"This is our home…it's not like she could ever understand."
The gate clanged shut behind them, and she craned her head back to peer at Roy on the edge of the balcony. He lobbed a glob of nasty spit in their direction, flipped her a giant bird, and disappeared back within the safety of Tenpenny Tower.
"Let's go," she muttered, stomping her feet the entire way to Lucky's Grocer by Warrington Station.
As soon as Lucky raised a hand in formal greeting, Evelyn burst into tears.
"Hey there, uh-" Lucky said with a scratch at his scalp under his ball cap, confused by the sudden intrusion of sobbing. "Again."
Evelyn whirled around to her companion as Dogmeat sniffed around the store.
"What fucking assholes!" she cried. "We-we worked so hard for them, and for what?! Everyone is dead, and it's all my fault!"
Lucky sighed from his corner, stirring something in a pot over a small burner. "Can see you guys have been to the tower."
Evelyn wiped at her face and turned to the trader. "When did this happen?! Do you know?"
"Roy had cleaned the others out just a few days after you two had parted ways," Lucky drawled, tapping his long spoon over the brim. "Some of them came by to trade some things, and I got to hear the whole story…guess they decided to spare me since they still need occasional supplies."
"That fucking bastard!" she screamed, kicking at a tin can to send it flying across the room. Dogmeat sped off in chase, never looking to waste a chance at playing fetch. "There were some good people in there! They didn't deserve any of this!"
Lucky just shrugged and pulled out a few bowls, seemingly unperturbed by the Tenpenny Massacre of 2277. "It is what it is."
It's the wasteland, you silly little goose. Did you forget already?
A piping hot portion of soup was handed over to them. "Here. Try not to let it get to you. Otherwise, it'll drive you crazy…ask me how I know."
Evelyn mumbled a thanks and sniffled as she looked down at her bowl, eventually taking a seat on her sprawled-out bedroll as they made camp alongside the trader. She took a few bites, watching Charon sit across from her, and she realized he hadn't spoken a single word of the entire ordeal.
"What're you thinking?" she asked.
A few lanterns illuminated the store as the trader began to prepare for the coming evening, and she stared at a flickering flame from a candle he had lit on a windowsill. Charon only raised his eyes briefly to hers before he set aside his empty bowl, not caring to answer her question.
She played with her food- her appetite suddenly nonexistent. She said quietly, "My dad always did the right thing."
Here the ghoul looked at her, his face dancing in dark shadows.
"It will get you killed," he rumbled.
Her eyes softened. "It got me you."
Charon didn't have a response to that, and when she had finally finished her food and went to remove her boots to crawl inside her sleeping bag, he rasped, "I wish to speak with him."
Evelyn paused with unbraiding her hair, not understanding for a few moments before she confirmed, "Roy?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Why?"
He only flexed his hands.
Evelyn dropped her eyes and felt everything in her entire world flash black and white. "Oh…I mean…you don't have to ask."
"Very well," he said, and he stood and turned to Dogmeat lying at her side. "Keep her safe."
She watched him walk to the door and exchange some words with the trader, and then he was gone.
Charon punched the intercom with the side of his fist, rasping, "Let me in."
The gate once again opened, and he was once again allowed to stroll inside, only this time, the murmured voices narrating his passing were singing a completely different tune. A few waved their hands in friendly greeting, while others eyed him from the balustrades and giggled behind mottled hands adorned with glistening rings. He stepped inside the elevator, ignoring them all.
The sentries posted outside, however, eyed him with suspicion.
"Leave your weapons on the table," one of them rasped.
Charon did as he was asked, laying down his shotgun, pistol, and knife for them all to see before one knocked on the door.
"Mister Phillips, the big one is back!"
It opened, and the ghoul to answer was the smaller woman, Bessie.
"Oh, hello there," she said a little demurely, inviting him in. "Roy and I were, um, well, just having a bit of some fun. Please, come inside."
He shadowed her back to the lounging room where Roy was finishing adjusting his robe.
"I knew you'd come," he rasped, sinking his weight in his chair. "Bessie, get him something to drink."
Charon said, "That is not necessary."
He then snaked an arm around Bessie's neck, snapping the bones like twigs and crushing a faint gasp from her throat. She dropped in a slump at his feet, and Roy's eyes widened in horror at his dead woman crumpled before him.
"Bessie!" he shouted, and before he could even stand, Charon had reached down to pull the extra knife he had hidden in the slit of his boot and threw it at his shoulder. It sunk through the bone and muscle and immobilized the ghoul in place, and Roy snarled as he scrabbled for the handle and heaved in trying to rip it out. "You fucking bastard! I'll kill you!"
The door rushed open, and through it, the four guards that had heard the distress. Charon reached down and propelled Bessie's limp body at the first two that had come inside with their guns raised, stumbling them backward while he then leaped forward with the decanter of brandy in one hand, smashing the third in the face with it. The fourth aimed his gun, but Charon intercepted it into his larger palm and squeezed. The bones all popped, and the ghoul shrieked in agony as Charon snapped his arm backward and snugged the pistol inside his mouth, pulling the trigger. He then redirected it to the other three, their brains all spraying in different directions around the room.
Roy belted curses at the top of his lungs while Charon calmly walked outside to reacquire his gear, his large boots creaking with every step he took.
"Y-you'll pay for this! You fucking bastard, I swear, you'll-!"
Charon returned, leaning forward to grab the handle of his knife and yanking it free.
Roy writhed in his seat, foaming at the mouth as he went to retaliate with a scratch at the ghoul's eyes, but Charon merely took ahold of his wrist and slammed it down on the arm of the chair, flipping his knife by the handle before driving it straight down through Roy's hand.
"GAHHH!" Roy screamed, and he could only watch in horror as Charon manhandled his other wrist into place, taking the second knife and holding it perfectly centered above his palm. "No, NO, NO NO NO-!"
Charon speared it straight down, pinning the ghoul like a pincushion and looking him dead in the eye as he rasped but a single word.
"Stay."
Charon exited the suite and nonchalantly pressed the button for the elevator. He cracked his neck side to side and rolled his shoulders, listening to the lulling music drifting through the lobby as he watched the light overhead blink. The doors opened to a startle of gasps from a few ghouls already inside, and one frantically began to smash the down button as the others smooshed into one another from the sight of blood splattered on his uniform.
The doors went to close, but he halted them with one hand and invited himself inside.
Ding!
The elevator opened.
Charon stepped out, his boots leaving bloodied prints on the immaculate marble flooring, and he paused to look around. A couple who hadn't taken notice of him yet were casually chattering to the side.
"How on earth did you find a recording of this? I haven't heard it since before the war," the woman rasped, bringing a glass of chilled wine to her lips.
The man chuckled and fiddled with the watch on his wrist. "It was in that one kooky smoothskin's room- Dashwood's."
"Herbert Dashwood?"
"Yeah. Guy had a lot of neat stuff…say, if you aren't busy tonight, how would you like to-"
Charon listened to the melody softly playing from the speakers. He then raised his gun, and fired.
"Ave Maria,"
Ghouls scattered and hid and ran as Charon fired away, shell after shell after shell clinking to the floor as he kept steady aim and a steadier trigger finger. Blood sprayed the walls, dripped from the balustrades, and streaked across the flooring as ghouls slipped and slid in the carnage in their attempt to flee.
"Gratia plena,"
The remaining security force outside answered the call of the helpless residents as they rushed through the front doors, providing cover fire for a few to escape back out into the wastes until Charon lobbed a couple of grenades and blew their limbs in a giant clusterfuck around the place.
"Maria, gratia plena,"
Charon went room by room, floor by floor.
"Maria, gratia plena,"
He put a boot into the frame of room 211, interrupting the lively party and blasting without mercy or bias. Downy feathers fluttered the air, a string of pearls broke and bounced across the floor, and an arm jangling with golden bracelets flopped into the hallway as he made his way to the next.
"Ave, ave dominus,"
No one made it past him.
"Dominus tecum..."
Charon stood alone in the lifeless lobby, taking a look around at the corpses hanging over the railings, slumped against the walls, and in pitiful heaps on the floor. He reloaded his gun, fastened it in its leather holster on his back, and rode the elevator back up to the top.
Roy snapped him an evil glare, his eyes bulging with unbridled hatred and teeth like knives as he spat out insults whilst Charon ripped a silken bedsheet down the middle.
"That little cunt made you do this, didn't she?!" Roy barked, thrashing in his seat in spite of the pain it shot up his arms. "That fucking smoothskin bitch! I'll kill her! I'll kill you! You tell that little whore of yours that I'll-!"
Charon came close and looped the makeshift noose around his neck, securing it tightly before ripping out both knives from his hands. Roy stiffly arched his back and roared at the ceiling, his eyes unseeing and limbs quaking with rage as he was dragged outside to the balcony, the endless night sky blending with the infinite expanse of the wastes. Charon tied the other end off the railing and looked down at the ghoul he held by the nape.
"This was my choice," was all he simply said.
When he had returned to the store, he found Evelyn thumbing a perforated edge in her journal where he had ripped the page out, her eyes heavy with sleep and worry.
She turned to look at him, eagerly sitting upright and closing the journal away. "How did it go?"
Charon began to shrug out of his armor. When it became apparent he wouldn't say anything, she stared at him with a peculiar expression before noticing his damp clothes.
"What happened?"
He paused in removing his jacket, rasping, "It needed to be washed."
"Oh." She fiddled with a thread on her suit as he finally sat beside her. She gave him a slight smile. "Is everything okay?"
Charon crooked an index finger and placed it underneath her chin, gently tilting her head up to share a kiss. "It is."
She held on to his forearm before he completely pulled away, and she confessed in a low voice, "Am I a terrible person for not wanting to do the right thing sometimes?"
Charon met her troubled eyes, so large and so frightened of the thoughts that dwelled behind them. He glanced down at his hands, hands that were stained beyond redemption and so very undeserving of the woman he now held. He knew the answer to her question…but he didn't have one for her.
She laid in his lap, saying softly, "...I'll never be like him."
Charon did not know whom she referred to, and he did not ask.