“If she does, she’s never said so. We have an…arrangement.”
Charon chortled. “You mean she gets paid double to do us squishers.” Decades of practice went into that poker face. It had taken Charon a long time to learn to ask questions before shooting.
Ahzrukhal’s laugh made bile rise in Charon’s throat. “Something like that. You interested?”
“How much?”
“Sixty caps for half an hour.”
“Steep.”
“People like us never find another chance like this. Not out in the Wasteland.”
After a few moments, Charon inclined his head, pulling a pouch of caps from his pack.
Ahzrukhal, leering, waved to the barmaid, who shakily nodded and headed to a back room.
As Charon followed, the hunger disappeared from his face, replaced with a cold grimace.
--
The room was furnished with only a bare mattress and table. Condoms, both unopened and used, littered the table and floor. Given the mattress’s stains, their use was apparently optional. Musk and mold permeated the room. Shutting the splintered door left everything quite dim.
She sat on the bed, curled into herself protectively.
“Are you allowed to speak to me now?”
“There’s usually not much talking… but you are paying for my company. So I guess it’s thirty minutes of whatever you want,” she replied without looking at him.
“You must be new. You can’t even fake it yet.”
That earned him a glare. “You here to insult me?”
“Maybe that’s the way I like it.” He leaned against the wall.
Her eyes closed, the expression speaking of despair.
“Calm down. Keep your clothes on.”
She didn’t move.
“I’m not here for sex.”
One eyelid cracked open.
Charon sighed. “This will be more trouble than it’s worth. I’m not usually a vigilante, but I really hate that guy.”
She looked at him warily now.
“You got a name?” he asked.
After a moment, she murmured, “Anna.”
“Charon.”
“What exactly are you going to do, Charon?”
He truly smiled for the first time that night. “For now, wait.”
----
Half an hour later, Charon marched out of the room.
“I’ve got a problem with your merchandise, Ahzrukhal. Care to discuss it with me? In private?” he said loudly. More than one ghoul took notice.
“What problem would that be?”
“She failed to give me my money’s worth.”
“Look, if your prick doesn’t work anymore, that’s not my—”
In several moments, Ahzrukhal was shoved against a wall, feet dangling, balls and neck both in a vice-like grip.
“Slave collars don’t turn me on,” Charon growled, “What should I rip out first?”
Ahzrukhal’s eyes widened. He said nothing.
“You should have invested in a bouncer, not a whore. Now: Windpipe or testicles?”
“You want her? Have her. Her remote… pocket…”
Charon smiled, slipping his hand into that pocket and taking the remote out gingerly.
He let the ghoul barkeep down. Ahzrukhal collapsed to the floor. When he looked up, it was at the business end of a shotgun.
Re: Role Reversal, Charon/F!LW 2/?
“If she does, she’s never said so. We have an…arrangement.”
Charon chortled. “You mean she gets paid double to do us squishers.” Decades of practice went into that poker face. It had taken Charon a long time to learn to ask questions before shooting.
Ahzrukhal’s laugh made bile rise in Charon’s throat. “Something like that. You interested?”
“How much?”
“Sixty caps for half an hour.”
“Steep.”
“People like us never find another chance like this. Not out in the Wasteland.”
After a few moments, Charon inclined his head, pulling a pouch of caps from his pack.
Ahzrukhal, leering, waved to the barmaid, who shakily nodded and headed to a back room.
As Charon followed, the hunger disappeared from his face, replaced with a cold grimace.
--
The room was furnished with only a bare mattress and table. Condoms, both unopened and used, littered the table and floor. Given the mattress’s stains, their use was apparently optional. Musk and mold permeated the room. Shutting the splintered door left everything quite dim.
She sat on the bed, curled into herself protectively.
“Are you allowed to speak to me now?”
“There’s usually not much talking… but you are paying for my company. So I guess it’s thirty minutes of whatever you want,” she replied without looking at him.
“You must be new. You can’t even fake it yet.”
That earned him a glare. “You here to insult me?”
“Maybe that’s the way I like it.” He leaned against the wall.
Her eyes closed, the expression speaking of despair.
“Calm down. Keep your clothes on.”
She didn’t move.
“I’m not here for sex.”
One eyelid cracked open.
Charon sighed. “This will be more trouble than it’s worth. I’m not usually a vigilante, but I really hate that guy.”
She looked at him warily now.
“You got a name?” he asked.
After a moment, she murmured, “Anna.”
“Charon.”
“What exactly are you going to do, Charon?”
He truly smiled for the first time that night. “For now, wait.”
----
Half an hour later, Charon marched out of the room.
“I’ve got a problem with your merchandise, Ahzrukhal. Care to discuss it with me? In private?” he said loudly. More than one ghoul took notice.
“What problem would that be?”
“She failed to give me my money’s worth.”
“Look, if your prick doesn’t work anymore, that’s not my—”
In several moments, Ahzrukhal was shoved against a wall, feet dangling, balls and neck both in a vice-like grip.
“Slave collars don’t turn me on,” Charon growled, “What should I rip out first?”
Ahzrukhal’s eyes widened. He said nothing.
“You should have invested in a bouncer, not a whore. Now: Windpipe or testicles?”
“You want her? Have her. Her remote… pocket…”
Charon smiled, slipping his hand into that pocket and taking the remote out gingerly.
He let the ghoul barkeep down. Ahzrukhal collapsed to the floor. When he looked up, it was at the business end of a shotgun.
“You are a disgusting rat,” Charon declared.
Ahzrukhal didn’t get a chance for any last words.