Fallout 1. Prologue: Alternate History 101

**PLEASE STAND BY**

_An alternate Fallout 3 story set in the UK featuring own characters and own story._

_This is a prologue; designed to bring everyone up to speed. History is mostly taken from the official Fallout timeline; parts of it have been hijacked by me. I've tried to set it as a 'montage' style, following chapters will be more uniform in structure (and won't begin and end so abruptly). Character development and plot will continue in the main chapters. Oh, and don't lynch me for the commentary :-)_

_The following Universe is owned by Interplay/Bethesda Softworks - original characters belong to the author._

**PROLOGUE – Alternate History 101**

"Greetings, valued Vault-Tec inhabitant! Welcome to Vault Red!"

Evelyn let out a light chuckle at that; she'd been here for 16 years already. It was hardly her first day stuck in this steel-lined coffin.

"Tomorrow will be one that shall shape your future with us," boomed the stuffy voice. "As you all should know, the taking of the G.O.A.T. is instrumental in deciding your career as a Vault-Tec inhabitant."

"Yours will be 'Unrecyclable Material Removal Technician'", whispered Eddie from his desk next to Evelyn, which brought a stifled giggle from the class and a reproving glance from the teacher.

"Therefore," continued the disembodied voice from the projector, "today you shall be given a brief overview of the previous 300 years of British history, starting with the end of the old Second World War up until present day. This history has been exhaustively researched and compiled ever since the beginning of the Great War, almost two hundred years ago. This will be the first time in your lives that you will have had full access to the unabridged, objective archives."

This raised another chuckle; it wasn't as if Mr. Bridges had exactly kept the history of the world a secret. The class knew everything there was to know; the aggression from the Middle-East, the American-Chinese war, even the existence of the 'Enclave' American Government, which justly and rightly ran the New World. Still, Evelyn could not help but be impressed by the promise of the 'objective' history of her own little universe, given that the Overseer's viewpoint always seemed somewhat... _subjective_.

"Are you ready?" The voice took on more warmth, and the static cartoon poster of Vault Red (complete with the thousands of happy, smiling families patiently waiting their turn to enter as the bombs were falling) disappeared to black. "Then we'll begin...

**[An old black and white video of gunpowder-smeared captives, being led from a smoking bunker]**

_"In 1945 the victorious Allied Armies rebuilt the world from the horrors of the war. With absolutely no help from their cowardly French and Canadian neighbours, Britain and America ushered in a new period of calm and peace the likes of which the world had not known for thousands of years."_

**[A brief still of the _Defiance _7 and Captain Carl Bell – then a colour video of the launch of the _Valiant _11 and Captain Wade's first steps on the Moon]**

_"Under the two countries' guidance, a new wave of scientific breakthroughs thrust the expectant world into the future. By 1961 the United States had put a man into space; by 1969 the Lunar Module Valiant 11 landed on the Moon."_

**[The three leaders' faces flash up; they seem hard at work behind desks in their respective offices]**

_"With leadership from the likes of such men as Richard Nixon, George W. Bush, and Gordon Brown, the two countries entered the new millennia as the two superpowers of the world."_

**[A Mr. Handy robot floats over a green landscape, to much silent applause from a watching crowd]**

_"By 2037, the USSA firm General Atomics International releases the first of the 'Mr. Handy' robots. These floating wonders are quickly upgraded to perform all manner of construction tasks, building houses in mere days and handling all maintenance concerns in every major building in the world."_

**[Jeeves, the Mr. Handy of Vault Red, briefly flashes up, to ironic cheers from the class]**

_"Today, these robots are still our faithful servants, keeping Vault malfunctions to an absolute minimum. And thanks to later breakthroughs in Artificial intelligence, they are now our faithful friends!"_

**[The class jeer again before the video changes to a ruined city; Mr. Handy robots are swarming over the rubble like ants, clearing debris and rebuilding the damage]**

_"In 2042, following the great earthquake in Mexico City, the robots prove invaluable in clearing the wreckage and rebuilding the metropolis; Mr Handy become a household name and are quickly accepted into all walks of life."_

**[The jaunty music takes on a slightly more sober turn; a riot is shown in the streets, followed by a factory belching out plumes of smoke which reach miles into the air]**

_"Unfortunately, despite this healthy start to the 21st Century, in 2051 the government of Mexico began to destabilise. Wide-spread looting and rioting, combined with the heavy pollution of the industrial estates, threaten America's stability as the leader of the Free World. Reacting quickly, American troops peacefully take control of the country's oil fields and prevent them from shutting down; thereby attempting to save the world's supply of fuel."_

**[A desert; troops are racing across the camera's viewpoint, tanks charge past in the background]**

_"Despite these measures, wasteful countries in the Middle East are bleeding the world's fuel dry. In a desperate attempt to solve this crisis, European forces occupy Jordan the following year; Britain leads the advance..."_

**[An angry, red-faced man, shouting from behind a podium with the French Tricolour behind; at this, the class jeer]**

_"...despite severe objections from the French government, whose only wish appears to be to return humankind to the Stone Age. The disagreement destabilises the United Nations, and Britain and America are quick to distance themselves from the ailing organisation."_

**[A gruff but friendly face, sitting from behind a desk. The Union Jack is draped from a pole behind. The face speaks directly to the camera, the narrator is silent]**

_"It is with the deepest regret... that we must resign from the United Nations... we feel we cannot fight the greatest threat to our way of life when shackled to such a repressive system... we shall continue to fight the good fight against our greedy foes in the Middle East... and once again, secure the precious lifeblood that rightfully belongs to us..."_

**[The picture changes to that of a hospital; the narrator returns. The beds are full to bursting with clearly sick patients; their skin is pallid and grey]**

_"The New Plague virus strikes the world; the virus is believed to be genetically-modified and purpose-made by America's and Britain's enemies. The virus kills tens of thousands; in an attempt to save the lives of her citizens, America closes her borders."_

**[A shaky, hand-held camera seems to record a blinding flash of light; the film is poor quality, but buildings in the distance are clearly turned to dust in a moment]**

_"In December of 2053, terrorists take advantage of the instability of the Middle East and detonate a nuclear warhead in the Israeli city of Tel Aviv. British forces step up their assaults, determined to bring the group responsible to justice."_

**[The music takes on a sudden positive turn; scientists garbed in white coats sport the familiar Vault-Tec logo. They appear to be unveiling new technology to the delighted public; Terminals sit beside large generators and Mr. Handy Robots (Mk IVs) float alongside]**

_"In 2054, American scientists make the breakthrough that will save the human race; safe houses, known as Vaults, are manufactured and distributed throughout the United States. Britain is given the unique opportunity to join America in the project, and several hundred vaults are planned to make their way across the shores."_

**[A virtual representation of Vault Red flashes up; the camera pans down the gleaming, metal hallways, through the medical bays, engineering section and even offering a brief glimpse of the Overseer's office, before ending in the cafeteria]**

_"The Vaults are designed to protect citizens in case of a nuclear attack or epidemic. Sealed off from the open, those who live in the Vaults are guaranteed safety from anything the worsening world climate could throw at them."_

**[Another video; a pipeline stretches to the horizon across an icy, barren tundra]**

_"The Vaults are in their first stages of development in 2059; Meanwhile, while America sends troops North to protect the Alaskan oil fields, the Canadian government refuses to accept their responsibility of defending the pipeline that runs through their territory."_

**[Another Mr. Handy floats past, this one shakes a tentative girl's hand]**

_"In the same year, Artificial Intelligence is developed and installed into various machines of the world; this technology, while still in its infancy, paves the way for our robotic counterparts that make our lives so much easier today."_

**[The music slows once more; an American city, the roads full of empty vehicles]**

_"By 2060, the irresponsibility of the Middle East rocks the world; the oil supplies run dry, and factories across the globe shut down."_

**[A laboratory with various engines in differing states of repair]**

_"American scientists continue to work on the benefits of Fusion and Electric power; however, they are hampered by the world's energy crisis, and progress is slow."_

**[Another desert; olive-skinned troopers are led dejectedly away at gunpoint by a mass of smiling men]**

_"In the same year, the countries of the Middle East surrender. Despite this victory, the oil over which the British have been fighting for years is all but used up."_

**[A gunship; it appears moored off a coast, but still fires several rounds into a smaller ship almost out of sight of the camera. The Royal Ensign is flying atop the larger vessel's mast]**

_"French troops, finally aware of the fuel crisis, desperately attack British vessels on their way back through the North Sea in an attempt to hijack the remaining oil; the Royal Navy is quick to see them off, and the British government swiftly declares war on France."_

**[The class cheer as Paris is shown; there are no tanks or vehicles, but a contingent of men are demolishing the city hall with sledgehammers]**

_"Victory is swift, and France's remaining oil supply is quickly commandeered by the British."_

**[A confusing map of Europe, which shows the movement of several divisions under a score of different flags]**

_"Over the next few years, Europe would descend into anarchy; Britain retreated into herself, content to protect her own interests and avoid outward contact. Several small invasions are quickly beaten off, and the countries of Europe, one by one, descend into anarchy. The United Kingdom is the shining beacon of hope across the continent. By 2064, Vault Red is completed, and the safety of the British citizenry is assured."_

**[Another flash of the Vault Red poster; another ironic cheer from the class. Suddenly a battlefield flashes up; thousands of armed men are throwing themselves toward a thin trench filled with other combatants]**

_"In the winter of 2066, following months of fuel shortage, China invades Alaska. The Americans hold them off; barely, and take horrific losses. The American government becomes frustrated with Canada's reluctance to support her neighbour, and forces her troops through the Canadian's territory to the front line."_

**[Another laboratory; a massive, metallic suit is hanging from the chains. High-ranking military officials nod approvingly at the machine]**

_"Fortunately, American tenacity and determination overcomes China's superiority in numbers, and the first Power Armour is produced. Powered by a fusion core, and able to cut swathe through the remaining Chinese artillery, the Alaskan line is held."_

**[The pipeline again; the Star-Spangled Banner is waving proudly in the background as clean, crisp American soldiers line up and parade next to it]**

_"In 2072, Canadian saboteurs are foiled in breaking the Alaskan pipeline, and the American government are forced to annex Canada to keep the fuel supply open."_

**[Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament; the Sun is setting across the Thames]**

_"Meanwhile, Europe has turned into a wasteland; with a variety of nomadic tribes being the sole occupants of the continent, Britain is the only country with any semblance of power. The citizens are safe, the borders are closed, and the United Kingdom joins America in being one of the only two countries of the world that proudly boasts of its sanity in the face of worldwide aggression."_

**[A coastline, men suited in large, dominating metallic armour are storming ashore]**

_"In 2074, in an attempt to bring an end to the war, America invades China. Armed with the new and improved fusion Power Armour, the Americans make great progress and come close to ending the conflict for good."_

**[A packed highway of empty vehicles followed by a video of men, women and children storming a supermarket; they are mainly armed with melee weapons]**

_"By 2077, however, the war had taken its toll; despite their best efforts, the American government was pushed to the brink. Citizens revolted against their protectors. Even though the United States tried everything to restore order, many dissenters were uncontrollable and certain cities had to be abandoned."_

**[The music and video fades... a cheery Vault Red poster is displayed in silence, declaring "Don't Leave It Late!" and showing happy people underground, safe and secure in their vault, toasting to their good fortune. At the top of the poster, supposedly above ground, unhappy people are being vapourised by a multitude of Atomic blasts. The narrator does not say anything for a moment]**

_"On October 23rd, 2077, at 9.16 AM Greenwich Mean Time, the sirens sound around the country. Men, women and children quickly file into the several hundred vaults that fill the country moments before the bombs began to drop. It is estimated that, despite the British government's best efforts, several million people still die in the explosions."_

**[A stock-file footage of a nuclear submarine, launching a warhead from the ocean]**

_"Reports come quickly that it is China who has fired first; striking out at all other countries in a terrifying display of power. Retaliation is swift; British Trident submarines return fire upon Shanghai, Xi'an and Beijing. Safe in their vaults, our citizens begin a new life underground."_

**[The video fades. A Vault Red poster is again displayed; A cartoon version of Boadicea, resplendent in armour and draped with the Union Jack, is smiling proudly at her many industrious subjects in Vault-Red emblazoned Jumpsuits. All are working in some manner, be it fixing a generator, stitching up a patient, or twirling a police baton]**

_"So what of the history beyond? We cannot be certain. The vaults were designed to be self-sufficient, and almost all communication capabilities we once held were destroyed on that fateful day. However, we have been in contact with other vaults around the country, all of whom are reporting that they are operating at peak efficiency; much like our very own!"_

**[Another ironic cheer, this so loud that the teacher shouted a warning of silence. Another series of posters flash up, showing the different occupations of the vaults; a varied selection of characters each smiling as they go about their menial tasks]**

_"One day, we may be ready to leave this vault; but as we cannot be sure of what is outside, be safe in the knowledge that we will continue to live on underground for as long as it takes; as long as we have you, the young dwellers of the vault, who will soon undertake your own careers, and go on to pass the sad history of the world to the next generation. For you... are our new hope, and without you, there would be no bright future."_

**[The Vault Red anthem plays, and the class stand as one]**

_"Thank you for listening...and good luck!"_

The lights blinked on, and Evelyn sighed. That wasn't as informative as she'd hoped. What happened after the bombs fell? How come they were all still stuck down here? Her reverie was cut short as the teacher dismissed the class and she quickly remembered she had to punch Eddie in the arm for his little outburst earlier. The pair raced each other down to the cafeteria, tomorrow's G.O.A.T. not troubling their minds.

**END OF PROLOGUE**


	2. Chapter One: Safe as Vaults

**PLEASE STAND BY**

_An alternate Fallout 3 story set in the UK with own story and characters._

_Here we go with Chapter One. Please R&R, reviews of all sorts are appreciated and will inspire me to update as regularly as I can. Further chapters may not be as long; or I can always make them longer :-D_

_Again, The Fallout Universe belongs to Interplay/Bethesda Softworks; all original characters are the author's._

**CHAPTER 1 – Safe as Vaults**

"All I'm saying," Eddie managed to say, spraying crumbs from his mouth as he spoke, "is that it's kinda weird we haven't been let out to play yet."

Evelyn sighed as she looked at her friend. "Not this again, Eddie."

"I kinda wanna hear it," said Rosie. The girl was only 14, four years younger than Eddie and Evelyn, and clearly not well-versed yet in the many conspiracy stories that were bandied about by the older classmates.

Eddie shot Evelyn a triumphant grin, to which the blonde-haired girl just shook her head in defeat. "Whatever," she sighed, looking down into her mostly-eaten dinner. The other children leaned in with barely restrained excitement.

Eddie and Evelyn were as close friends as any couple in the Vault. They weren't lovers; despite Eddie's somewhat charming persistence for the past decade, Evelyn had never allowed herself to cross that boundary with her somewhat eccentric friend. It wasn't that she didn't love him, or even that she hadn't even thought about it; what bothered her was that this boy - or a man, now, she allowed – was the best of a rather weak bunch. He was smart, funny and knew how to make her laugh; but he was also somewhat cocky, outspoken and repeatedly annoying, as he was again proving right now to the two younger adolescents sat at the table. Evelyn wanted more in a lover; and while she admitted she'd never get better being stuck in this metal hole, something in her mind always told her to wait. Besides, Eddie was a great friend to her, and that's all she needed right now.

_Pity he's such a twat,_ Evelyn thought.

"Well," Eddie began, leaning forward conspiratorially. "You know there's supposed to be loads of vaults all around the country, yeah?"

The two wide-eyed teenagers, Rosie and Paul, nodded eagerly.

"Well, ain't it weird that we haven't heard anything from them? I mean, we're these sole survivors of this big war, right? But that was, what, 200 years ago?"

"Exactly two hundred years ago," Paul answered helpfully. That was true; in a fortnight the vault was celebrating the bicentennial year of the moment the door was sealed forever.

"Yeah, so how come we've not gone out into the big bad world and gone to another vault? Or why haven't they come to us? It don't make no sense."

Rosie and Paul thought about this revelation for a moment, their faces contorted in a furrow of concentration. Evelyn lightly smiled; the pair were twins, and while not identical their faces often shared the same features at the same moment.

"Know what I reckon?" Eddie continued, his voice lowering to barely above a whisper. "I think we're the only ones left. I don't think there's anyone else out there."

Again, the twins shared a facial expression of horror.

"But," stammered Rosie, "What about that government-type thing? Y'know, in America?"

"The Enclave?" Eddie laughed. "Doubtful. Probably just some rumour made up by our 'benevolent' Overseer to stop us all going mental."

It was Paul's turn to desperately try and clutch at a rebuttal. "But why would we be the only Vault? We can't be the only people left in the world! We _can't!_" The teenager spoke loudly, more to himself.

Eddie's grin did not let up; he had hold of his audience, and now he would deliver the killer blow.

"This Vault... is the only world left."

The twins looked on the verge of crying. Evelyn had to step in and stop this madness.

"Oh fuck off, Eddie. The Enclave is there, we've both heard transmissions from them. And the reason we haven't had any vaults knocking on our door is that the doors are _sealed_. We can't reopen them. C'mon, we know other vaults have talked to us."

Eddie's grin dropped and he turned to face Evelyn. "You believe that?"

"Yeah, why would anyone just build one vault? And stick it in the middle of some bloody island? No, America had to have built _thousands _of the buggers. We're just not willing to poke our heads out and say hello."

The twins, somewhat reassured by Evelyn, managed a thin smile between them; they still didn't like the idea that they'd be trapped down here for the rest of their lives.

"Well, if that's what you believe," Eddie said, curtly, while poking at his empty Nuka Cola bottle.

"No, it's common sense." Evelyn snapped back. "Only a retard like you believes that we're some last vestige of humanity fighting against oblivion. Goddamnit, you really are a fucking idiot."

That did it. Eddie's face flushed, he looked down at the floor and pushed his chair back violently, before storming out of the cafeteria.

There was a brief, awkward silence, where the twins exchanged a glance and Evelyn shook her head sadly. "Don't worry 'bout him," Evelyn managed, eventually. "He's always trying to scare people with his ideas. We'll get out of this place one day." Even as she said it, she knew that was a lie.

The pair weren't convinced, but nodded anyway, before Rosie made a thin excuse about having to do her homework, and the twins departed. Evelyn sat at the table and sighed. She hated having to speak to Eddie like that, but then he shouldn't be spreading his wacky theories to everyone. Not only did it scare innocent kids like Rosie and Paul, but it was dangerous as well – everyone knew the Overseer had a wicked temper on him, and it wouldn't end well for Eddie. He'd be stuffed down in the sewer wearing shorts and told to clear up every turd with his hands and scrub the walls with a toothbrush.

Finishing off her own flat Nuke Cola, Evelyn stood up and left a short while after the twins. She had work to complete before she went to bed, and she wasn't about to let Eddie's famous sulks play on her mind. After all, she was right. Wasn't she? He'd come round in a few days, anyway, and the pair would quietly mutter that maybe they should leave it, and then everything would be fine again, as it always was. No, she wasn't going to let him get to her. She couldn't afford to.

_Shit. Who am I kidding._

Evelyn wandered to the generator as the Overseer's assistant's voice boomed through the vault.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, the time is 8pm, one hour until lights low, repeat, one hour until lights low. Be well."

Yeah. Be fucking well trapped in your steel coffin for the rest of your miserable lives, you assholes. Fuck, she hated being in a bad mood with Eddie, it made her depressed. Okay. Plenty of stuff to do, Evelyn. One hour to do it in. You should have left earlier, Evelyn. You're gonna get shouted at again, Evelyn.

The generator room was empty; at least she could get some work done in silence. Picking up her toolbox that she'd casually discarded before her dinner, she selected a particularly hefty-looking wrench – _Old Faithful_, as she'd dutifully named it – and set to work on one of the many panels covering the fan.

Evelyn's mind wandered while she worked. She thought about how much the past two years of her life had been mundane. After the G.O.A.T., she had been selected to be an Engineer – this wasn't a great shock to anyone, seeing as Evelyn was taking toy cars apart from the age of two. She was the only person in vault history to manage to break her Pip-Boy, by taking it apart carefully and then not knowing how to reassemble the damn thing. Still, her second Pip-Boy, grudgingly offered to her after her little mistake with the first, was heavily modified by herself. The light was brighter, the screen more defined, and she'd even worked with Eddie to include a variety of new options. She could play Pong on it; a fact she was extremely proud of, even with the knowledge that the Overseer would probably feed her into the compactor if he ever found out.

Her and Eddie worked together on a number of projects. Eddie was the computer genius; his G.O.A.T. test had placed him in the Overseer's office looking after surveillance, a job he was fairly happy with. He'd often share stories of which grumpy adult had picked his nose in the seeming privacy of one of the vault's many corridors. _Jesus, he needs to grow up._

But despite her promise and talents, here she was, stuck down in the noisiest room in the whole vault, trying to prise the last unwilling scrap of metal debris from the stupid extractor fan before her stupid boss told her to get her act together again. She grunted with the effort, and with a last surge of rage, tore the piece free.

It was like this; day after day, week after week, with little to look forward to. The daily grind of life was only interrupted by her lunches or suppers with Eddie, and the rare social events. Occasionally, they'd have cake when it was someone's birthday; births, deaths and marriages were even less frequent these days. What did her future hold? She'd eventually take over old Simon's job as Chief Engineer when he popped his clogs, and then she would get to act grumpy to every kid that came along, and tell them to sort their life out, and wonder aloud why youngsters could never do things quickly.

Damnit.

Well, she could always look forward to marrying Eddie.

She snorted in spite of herself, shaking her head and giggling a little more at that thought. Yeah, that'd work.

The assistant's voice cut through her reverie; "Good evening everyone, five minutes till lights low, please would everyone return to their quarters. Sleep well. Praise to the Overseer."

Jesus, that hour had gone fast. She'd done what she needed to, though. She's escape Simon's wrath in the morning. Not that he'd pay her any compliments, oh no. He'd just mutter something about it being goddamn time that the extractor was fixed, and then give her an entirely new and pointless job that had to completed, and threaten her with an increasingly inhuman deadline.

Packing up her tools, she clicked shut her carrycase and walked through the grey, lifeless corridors back to her apartment, her mind still fighting to keep out the image of Eddie sulking two doors away.

* * *

Evelyn rarely remembered her dreams; apart from some snatches of her parents, long gone from her now, and a couple of bizarre nightmares where the Overseer's voice boomed down at her while she stumbled blindly through a maze of identical grey corridors, Eddie's grating laugh continually mocking her lack of progress. So it made little sense that, as Evelyn woke to an unusual gloom, last night's dream was lodged firmly in her mind.

Evelyn had been outside; where, she couldn't say, but it was definitely pre-war. Buildings loomed overhead, she was certain that Big Ben appeared in her created landscape more than once. The people – so many of them! - milled around her, going on with their unseen lives. The Sun seemed dim to her, a lifeless orb in the sky, not like she might have pictured it from the tapes she'd been shown.

Then, a siren had sounded, and everyone had looked up and started to run. Evelyn had run with them, not certain in which direction, but herded along with the rest of the cattle as the screaming started, people panicking, voices calling loudly in the scrum. There were loud, hollow bursts of noise that almost sounded like gunfire. Somewhere, disembodied, the Overseer's voice had called down, reassuring the rabble that things were fine, not to panic, but the crowd swelled and Evelyn felt crushed in the middle, the terror rising, the people pressing ever closer to her as they gathered pace.

It was at that point that Evelyn had awoken, and remembered the feeling of being pressed on all sides, and the horror shared by all, and always still, that piercing siren, a shrill warning that flooded the mind with terror.

It was then that the awake Evelyn realised that the siren was real.

Not only that; there _were_ people screaming. And there was the unfamiliar popping sound, a rapport which broke through the siren's wail and could only have been gunfire.

Shitshitshit_shitshitshit._

Adrenaline pumped through the girl as she dived from her cot, pulling her red Vault jumpsuit over her underwear. Slamming her fist into the light switch and seeing nothing. Fiddling awkwardly with her Pip-Boy light. The siren screaming in her mind.

Her room was bathed in the soft, green glow as she found the switch. Her mind was racing; she'd never heard the guards fire outside of the range before. In fact; she was pretty certain that the gunfire she heard _wasn't_ the N99 10mm – that'd been the only gun she'd ever heard fire. No, this sound was a deeper boom, a low, ominous noise that seemed to rattle the walls.

Relax. What did Vault Dwellers Emergency Handbook say to do in a time like this? She scanned her memory. The siren sounded like the General Warning 01. What the hell did that mean? That could have been used for an invasion by Radroaches or a bad case of wind!

_Relax, Evelyn. Don't get all jumpy like Eddie. It's nothing._ In the case of gunfire shots sounding, Vault Inhabitants are expected to report calmly to their nearest security centre for Temporary Security Occupation Transference.

Another scream echoed down the corridor. _Fuck it's nothing._

Cursing herself for not having a gun, the young woman looked frantically for anything to arm herself with. Whatever was outside was certainly not friendly, and she'd been damned if she was going to wander around without something – _anything_ – to fight back.

Then, a shuffle sound, directly outside her door. A grunt, definitely a male, heavyset she deduced, from the sound of his body moving against the metal. Evelyn's neck hairs stood on end, her blood ran an icy cold as she realised what the man outside was doing.

_He's coming in!_

The next moment was a blur; instinctively she killed her Pip-Boy light and threw herself into the dim corner next to the door. She had no time to think; not to worry that she was still unarmed, or that the man would see her as soon as he stepped over the threshold.

The door slid open quietly, and a soft light suddenly bathed the apartment. The siren noise was louder, crisper. A man slowly entered the room. Evelyn's breath caught in her throat.

In the moment that would follow, Evelyn knew she'd never have reacted the same way had she realised the immense size of the man; towering above her by almost a foot, covered in thick, spiky armour, the hairs on his back and arms as thick as the mop on his head. In his hands he held a massive weapon; a gun almost the height of Evelyn, and as thick as both her forearms together.

No, it was fortunate that Evelyn didn't notice these things, as she'd have been too frozen in fear to move, or indeed, to swing around her Pip-Boy-weighted left arm into the intruder's face, a satisfying crunch as her metallic wrist met the man's nose. She instantly felt hot blood run onto her hand, and heard the man take a massive gasp into his huge lungs, but before he could scream in pain and alarm she had already ran out the open door and into the corridor.

And into the jaws of hell.

The giant's roar and the wail of the siren followed her down the corridor as Evelyn desperately stumbled over a corpse that was sprawled against a closed doorway. Its head had been blown apart and grey matter messily splattered over the wall. Evelyn gasped in utter shock, but her legs threw her on, over the obstacle and away from the goliath that had invaded her home.

She didn't know where she was going; there was no exit from the Vault. Had she been thinking clearly, she might have actually listened to the manual and headed for the security office, for there were weapons and armour displayed in neat, clear racks, and surely there would be survivors huddled there.

But it was not her mind that made her go instead to the Overseer's office; just an instinct. She couldn't even remember the journey, for while it was so short, she had rarely gone to see the hated man. She would reason to herself later that it had been the closest room and the most secure area in the Vault, but secretly she knew that the years of doctrine forced into her (and indeed, every Vault dweller) had made the Overseer far more than a leader. No, he was their protector, their little god in their own tiny universe.

To Evelyn, especially, he was like a Father. And, in the absence of her real patriarch, the Overseer would be a welcome substitute.

Unfortunately, he was also dead.

Not just dead, Evelyn decided, as she gazed upon the fallen idol. He'd been massacred, right outside his own office. Gunshot wounds perforated his lower torso, from where blood still oozed, and his head had been caved in by several strikes from a blunt weapon. His shoulders were covered in punctures, as if he'd been stabbed or spiked, and his legs jutted away at unnatural angles. From the way the man was lain, Evelyn could guess that his lower body had been broken before he had died.

The Vault-dweller was surprised that she couldn't find any grief in her heart for this man. This man, who had treated her young self as such a burden, as if it were Evelyn's fault for her parents' deaths. Who had persecuted her, and treated her almost as if she were unwanted because of her lack of heritage. Who had screamed at her wrong-doings, and never praised her for all she had done right. No, this man, despite resembling everything that Evelyn considered safe and secure in her little world, was a horrible, petty little man, and even though his death spelled the end of the Vault, and the end of everything she knew, she couldn't force through any sorrow.

In the man's hand was a pistol, his grip still solid on the weapon, as if he clung to it still in death. Evelyn's trembling hand reached for the gun, untangling it from the corpse's cold fingers. She couldn't bring herself to search through the pockets of the bloody cadaver, but feeling the weapon in her hand boosted her confidence, and Evelyn's mind began to clear.

She noticed the blood drying on her left hand as she inspected the weapon. It'd been fired recently, and felt surprisingly light. She fiddled with the weapon and finally, in the dim light and the blare of the siren, she managed to release the magazine.

She peered down into the clip, seeing a round on the top and one buried underneath, although any more were hidden from her sight. That meant she had at least three rounds, one in the chamber. Whether that'd be enough to see her through tonight was something Evelyn did not want to contemplate.

Clicking the magazine back into place, and stuffing it indelicately into her back pocket, Evelyn turned to the heavy steel door before her. The siren still pierced her thoughts, adding an intense urgency to everything that heightened Evelyn's senses. She could smell the copper-like blood that trickled down the corridors, the fresh, bitter smell of cordite that wafted across the vault, the sweet stench of sweat that clung to the air.

Evelyn moved to open the door, and only then did she realise that it was locked tight.

She tried again, the panel silently mocking her as it served out the same, low tone that told her she would not be gaining entrance. And then, footsteps, more than one set, making their way toward her. She sobbed quietly in frustration. She had come so close!

Shivering with fear, Evelyn pressed her back to the door and cradled her gun like a child, as she stared in the direction of the approaching intruders. At least three people were in the group, and she could hear them laughing at each other, as if they were having the time of their lives. There would be no way she'd be able to shoot all three of them before they got to her. The last time she'd fired a gun, she'd been lucky to even hit the wall at the end of the range. And what would they do to her if they _didn't_ kill her? She trembled as she looked down at the broken body of the Overseer, and wondered whether or not to simply turn the weapon on herself.

_No,_ she thought, her fingers turning white as she gripped the weapon. _I won't die without a fight._

And as the shadows peered round the corner, and Evelyn flicked the weapon off safety, the door behind her gave way and she tumbled into the room.

"_JESUS!" _ she screamed, tugging the gun awkwardly from her chest as she was tugged roughly backward by her collar. She aimed toward the figure, before her frightened mind heard the sounds being spoken in her ear.

"Ev Ev Ev! Chill! It's me!" Eddie said, loudly.

Evelyn looked up into the face of her smiling friend. She wanted to hug the man, such a relief was it to see him again, before the shadows outside the door turned into figures, and their laughter quickly turned to cries of alarm.

"CLOSE THE FUCKING DOOR!" Evelyn screamed at her companion, who dived for the panel and hit the switch just as the lead invader brought up his terrible weapon. The door slid shut, and Evelyn, who was scuttling backwards to the far wall, heard the massive rapport of the gun and the dreadful echoing thump as the shell hit home. Fortunately, the door took the blow, and slid closed, and trapped the men outside.

Evelyn's heart was racing as she replayed what she had just seen. The men were all huge, muscular and well-armed. They seem to be draped in some form of leather, two with spikes protruding from their armour that almost looked like teeth. They were unkempt, tanned, and clearly capable of killing everyone in the vault. Again she shot a look to her Pip-Boy which was drenched in blood.

Eddie must have seen her left arm too, for he scrambled down to where Evelyn was still on the floor, shaking, and grabbed her limb for inspection. "Bloody hell, you alright Ev?" He managed above the siren wail.

No, she fucking wasn't alright. Her world had just been turned upside down. These men had come from nowhere and were clearly on a mission of extermination. What the hell did they want? Why had they just attacked like that? And who the hell were they, anyway?

Instead of this outburst, Evelyn managed, "What's happening?"

Eddie, satisfied that Evelyn's blood-soaked arm wasn't from a wound she'd sustained, looked grimly toward the door. He offered a hand to Evelyn, pulling her to her feet. "Hang on," he said, walking over to a row of terminals on one side of the room. Typing in a few commands, the siren suddenly stopped. Evelyn could still hear the siren echoing in her ears; she guessed she'd be hearing it in many nightmares to come, if she survived the night.

"I'm not sure what happened," Eddie said, returning to her side, grateful that he didn't have to shout. "I wasn't asleep, so when I heard the alarm go I thought I'd come here and see what was going on."

Evelyn, her hands still shaking, secured the gun again and tucked it back into her pocket. She knew Eddie would have been awake because he'd still be sulking about their argument, a disagreement that seemed so petty compared to what was happening now.

Refraining from saying this, she instead walked to the door, making doubly certain it was locked. She could hear the men outside pounding against the metal.

Eddie continued. "I saw those guys, loads of them, all over the place. Ev, they were literally just opening up people's doors and blasting their heads off."

Evelyn turned and offered a frown. "Why? I don't understand?"

Eddie shrugged. "They just seem to want to take everything. All the food got taken from the cafeteria. They stole all the weapons from security. They even stole some random odds-and-sods from the water purifier. All sorts."

Evelyn heard the unsaid statement, and her blood ran cold. "So... are we the only ones left?"

Eddie breathed out slowly, eyeing his friend, biting his lip. He was clearly not sure how to handle this line of questions.

"Well," he sighed, eventually. "You saw the top man out there. And I'm pretty sure all the guards are dead."

"Eddie, tell me." Evelyn knew when Eddie wasn't saying something important.

"Ev..." the man began.

"Tell me." Her eyes were insistent, her fear momentarily forgotten.

Eddie looked down at the floor. "I saw on the monitors that they were taking some people alive. Saw 'em being herded together. Maybe, I don't know, a dozen?"

Evelyn waited. When Eddie looked up again, she tilted her head in annoyance. There was more he wasn't telling her.

Eddie's jaw clamped shut tightly, before he finally released a breath and spoke quietly. "Ev, they took all the young girls."

Evelyn bit her lip until she tasted blood. She wanted, she _needed_, to throw something, to hit, to yell, to scream her frustration. She threw herself against the door and pounded it with her fists, her Pip-Boy ringing a dull tone whenever it struck.

"_You_ _SICK_ _MURDERING BASTARDS!_" She yelled at the men outside. _"I'll FUCKING KILL YOU! ALL OF YOU!"_

Breaking down, Evelyn allowed the emotions to get the better of her, and the tears ran freely as her body slid down the metal surface. These men could take no more from her now, she thought, as she pulled her knees to her chest and hugged her calves so tight she felt bruised.

Eddie, always uncertain when a woman cried, awkwardly walked over to the surveillance station instead and looked down at the monitor. He waited for her sobbing to die down, not risking another argument with his friend.

Eventually, after a number of minutes, Evelyn did manage to control herself. She was safe, for now, and she had Eddie. More importantly, she was alive, and hadn't suffered the same fate as some of her peers. Her mind instantly switched to Rosie, her smiling, innocent face, and Evelyn almost broke down again at the thought.

Instead, she let the righteous anger build in her, driving her on. She wouldn't let these men take her. She'd live past tonight. "_YOU FUCKING WON'T TAKE ME!" _she screamed at the door, causing Eddie to jump nervously.

As Evelyn picked herself up, she swore that she could hear a lecherous laugh from beyond the metal door. It was all she could do to walk away without screaming another threat.

"Ev," Eddie spoke, quietly, beckoning her to the consoles. "Come take a look." His face showed that it wasn't good news.

Joining her friend, Evelyn looked down into one of the monitors. It was clearly just outside, and showed the three men in all their muscular horror. But what chilled Evelyn was that one of them was delicately working on the panel, unscrewing the door controls.

"They're coming in," Evelyn said, softly.

"Not for a while they're not," Eddie said. He was almost proud. "I rigged up the door with a superlock. They'll have to break through hundreds of lines of code to get that bugger open."

"And what do we do now?" Evelyn said, fixing her friend with a cool glare. "Wait for them?"

"Well," Eddie said, his face slightly flushed. "We can wait for help."

Evelyn might have smiled at that; he was almost apologising for being wrong earlier.

"Help?"

"Yeah. I sent a distress call to two other vaults, White and Blue."

Evelyn frowned. "They sent anything back?" She'd never heard that there was actually a communication system between the vaults before, nor had she heard the actual names of the Vaults used. Red, White and Blue. Cute.

Eddie shook his head, but didn't seem worried. "They'll come," he said, confidently.

Evelyn wasn't so sure, and ran her tongue over her teeth idly while she thought of a better waste of their time. There was one thing she was certain of; they had to escape, not sit here.

"Eddie, can you find a way out of here?"

Eddie didn't look up, instead his fingers danced over the keyboard like a maestro. Evelyn was always held in awe about how easily computers came to him; it was almost like he was part of the machine. Evelyn, while her skills were notably improved since taking instructions from Eddie, would never be able to match her friend on his talent.

"Yeah, here we go." Eddie said, after a few moments. "Well, looks like there is only one way out of here, and that must have been the way in for these guys."

That wasn't good. "Which way is the main door?" It amazed her that she didn't even know that, after living here for eighteen years.

Eddie looked up and smiled. "This is the good bit. It's right through there."

Evelyn followed his pointing finger, to stare at a solid metal wall.

"Uh," Evelyn started, before being silenced by Eddie's held up hand, urging her to wait. He typed a few more commands into the terminal before suddenly, there was a grating sound, and the pair both looked back to the wall to see it sliding away revealing a dark passageway.

"Eddie you fucking mad?" Evelyn managed, tearing the gun out of her pocket and fumbling with the safety. "They could be out there too!"

"Relax," Eddie said, almost laughing at his friend's nervousness. "I rigged up sensors once I found out, and no-one's set 'em off yet. There's no-one out there."

Evelyn kept the gun pointing at the passage for a moment longer, before clicking on the safety and pocketing it. "So why we still waiting here? Come on!" She beckoned her friend to the entrance.

"Well," Eddie said quickly, still standing behind the bank of terminals. "I don't know _exactly_ what's back there." Evelyn shot him a concerned glance, before rejoining him at the monitors. "See," he continued, pointing at the screen which glowed green and displayed a map of the whole complex. "There's a corridor, then some sort of airlock system with a security station. Beyond that..." he trailed off to a shrug.

"But the way out is definitely through there?"

"Oh yeah," Eddie replied. "It's marked on the map. Just no cameras down there."

"And the Vault door? How come that's open? And can we get past it?"

Eddie frowned. Clearly such a logical thought had not come to the young man. "Uh, okay, hang on," Eddie said, typing in some commands.

Evelyn looked up at the other monitor showing the outside corridor. The men were still there, one of them struggling with several components from the door panel. She didn't share her friend's confidence that they'd be stopped that easily. Still, it seemed like, for the moment, they were safe.

Eddie's brow furrowed in concentration, his tongue pressed to the side of his lips as he typed frantically away on the keyboard. Evelyn left his side to walk back toward the open passageway. Readying herself, she peered through. There was a corridor, much like any corridor in the vault; grey, lifeless, straight as an arrow. This corridor was bathed in darkness, a light only visible at the end. It was a bright, piercing light that showed up what seemed to be a small security kiosk. A large grey door was barely visible; it had slid into the wall, wide open. Beyond was darkness.

"I don't believe it," Eddie breathed. Evelyn turned back into the bright room and headed back to the terminals.

"What?"

"Well, I looked up the Vault door's diagnostics. I tried to send it a command to close, to see if I could work it, but it failed; it's stuck open."

Evelyn shrugged. "So?"

"So, I looked to see why it wouldn't shut. And it seems like the door was told to open, and to stay open. So I looked to see who had told it to do _that_," Eddie said, taking a breath, while Evelyn folded her arms. "And it seems that, well, no-one did."

Evelyn waited a few more seconds before realising Eddie wouldn't offer more. "So how come it opened?"

"Well," Eddie said eagerly, "seems like it was _meant _to open."

Evelyn waited another few moments before giving up and leaning onto the console. "Eddie," she warned.

"Y'see, the command was always there. The door was supposed to open. Tonight."

Evelyn frowned as that dawned on her. "So, what? It was always programmed to open? Like, right now?"

"Yeah, exactly." Eddie looked at her, as confused as Evelyn. Neither could make any sense of this new piece of information.

"Okay," Evelyn said, slowly. "So why tonight? What else was supposed to happen tonight?"

Eddie nodded, doe-eyed, and went to typing in the relevant commands. Evelyn did manage a light smile; she was definitely the brains of the operation.

"Well, doesn't seem to be anything in the notes about this," Eddie said, almost giddy with glee that he was finally about to worm about the system without fear of reprisal. "But there was one other command meant for tonight, hang on..." he trailed off as his fingers tapped rhythmically on the keyboard.

"Here we go," Eddie said after a moment. "There's one command here, says 'Play Locator Message Series Alpha'?"

Evelyn ran her fingers through her long, pulled back blonde hair, desperately trying not to get frustrated toward her friend. "What's that mean?"

Eddie shook his head as he remained transfixed on the screen. "I... don't know. But... well, it seems that... it's a distress message. Contains simple co-ordinates, that's about all it is. Anyone could have gotten a fix on our position and found us." He looked toward the door, where the men still laboured. "I guess these guys did."

Evelyn closed her eyes and stretched her aching neck. None of this made any sense, and she was guessing it wasn't Eddie's fault for not properly explaining things to her.

"So," Evelyn began, trying to piece all the information together. "Tonight, for no reason, the Vault sends out a message that lets people know where we are, and opens up the door for them, and this was always going to happen no matter what we did. Right?"

"Right."

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, before Evelyn finally asked the question that had hung in the air.

"Why?"

Eddie shrugged, and looked back down at the monitor, but there were no further answers there.

Sneaking another quick glance at the monitor, where the men now had the panel disassembled, Evelyn did a double take. A score of people were outside the door now, including bound-and-gagged girls still dressed in their nightgowns. They looked terrified as they stared wide-eyed at the men around them, who in turn were transfixed by the work going on. Evelyn suddenly understood why; Evelyn and Eddie had blocked off the only exit. Whatever happened, these men, with their 'prizes', would do everything to break down that door.

"Eddie, I think we need to go." She said it quietly, catching sight of one girl on the monitor who she knew to be less than ten years of age. An involuntary shudder passed through her.

"Look, I've sent out a message to those two other vaults. They'll send someone."

Evelyn raised her eyebrow. "You sure about that?" She echoed, coldly, blindingly aware that the pair were now arguing each others side. Now she was the cynic, the believer in there being only one vault, and Eddie was the optimist.

"They're there, Evelyn. I swear to you. Hang on, look. Give me a couple of minutes and I might be able to patch through to their systems. Might get a message to them directly."

Evelyn leant back over the counter as another thought popped into her head. "Hey, can you patch me the location of those two vaults onto my Pip-Boy?"

Eddie frowned but didn't look up. "Yeah, I guess. I can download a lot of the crap onto there, if you like. Not sure what good it'd do you, but we could always sort it all out later." He tapped a few commands, and suddenly Evelyn's Pip-Boy blinked into life and started to receive all the data.

But Evelyn wasn't paying attention. Instead she was inspecting the monitor, watching as the men gave each other thumbs up and readied their weapons. The panel had almost been replaced. A bolt of fear shot through Evelyn.

"Eddie, we have to leave _now!_" She screamed, taking a few frantic sidesteps toward the door.

"Relax, Ev," Eddie said, his eyes still on the console. "Like I said, trust me. They won't be-"

His words were cut off as the door to the corridor slid open and the burly men shouted a war cry. Evelyn, only a few steps from the passageway, darted for the darkness just as she heard a tremendous boom echo through the whole room. Every night from then on, Evelyn would relive the terrible moment as she slipped beyond the room and into the cool passage, turning to beckon her one and only friend on. She would hear Eddie's desperate cry as he launched himself forward toward her, their eyes locked in a moment that seemed to last forever, before another hollow explosion, and his eyes crumbled and his head burst in a jarring explosion that sprayed the console in blood and gore.

Evelyn turned and tore through the dark passage, past the open door and into the void, wailing with grief the whole way.

**END OF CHAPTER ONE**


	3. Chapter Two: Never Saw The Sun

**PLEASE STAND BY**

_The Fallout 3 Universe is owned by Interplay/Bethesda Softworks; all original characters are my own._

**CHAPTER 2 – Never Saw The Sun**

The darkness surrounded the young woman as she dashed up the stairs at the end of the corridor, her mind reeling with what had just happened.

_Eddie. Oh God, I'm so sorry._

The tears streaked down her face, her voice a low moan of despair intermingled with gasps for breath. Her whole body trembled as she heard her pursuers give chase, the huge men with their barrel chests, trunk-like arms and those weapons. Those cannons, those death-bringers which had just torn her world apart.

She fought desperately against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her, the bile rising in her heaving chest. It wasn't just the fear; she'd _never gone this way before_. To Evelyn, these stairs were an alien planet; she didn't know where they'd lead, or which way to turn. No, she had to _actually think_ about which way to go next. And that wasn't easy, considering that their were monsters chasing her.

The stairs ended into another dim passageway, with what seemed like a glowing wall at the end.

_Turn right. Run straight. Run as fast as you can._ _Keep your eyes on that light._

Then the light disappeared and Evelyn was thrown once more into darkness.

It took her a moment to realise that a shadow had draped itself over the light, blocking it in an instant. Her heart leapt up to her throat as the shroud moved in front of her, a glint of metal, and _still she was running toward it!_

Evelyn couldn't stop, she was almost running in a trance. The darkness ahead of her could only be another one of them, armed with one of those terrifying weapons that would tear the flesh from her body in a single, earth-shattering blast. But there were more behind her. More men, with their fleshy armour and their boom-sticks, and their female slaves, and their murdering ways. No, she had to keep going, even if death was a few steps in front of her. She wouldn't stop now.

The shadow grew larger in her vision and then she heard the shot.

Two shots. Three shots.

Evelyn didn't flinch as the sound of her imminent death rang around the passageway, a fact she was dimly proud of, nor did she feel any pain, or even fear. She just kept running.

She ran past the shadow, the form crumpling in her vision, and it was only then she realised her right hand was gripping the pistol, and her mind came back to her, and she was there, past the body, her gun trailing the smoke from the bullets she had just fired into the shadow.

She had no time to realise that she had just killed, nor time to realise that her fingers were still squeezing the trigger and producing dry 'clicks' from the gun. Evelyn had no time to think of anything, because she had reached the glowing wall, and it wasn't a wall at all, but a large bank of lights that all shone at her from the Vault's main entrance.

She shielded her eyes from the sudden blare, and almost stopped running, but the fear instinct had taken control of her legs, and she tore past the large, standing lights that illuminated the huge steel frame of the Vault. Evelyn took in everything in an instant; the semi-cylindrical nature of the long and narrow room she was now in, the long, metallic, many-doored beast in front of her, even the bizarre red-and-blue logo that was emblazoned "VAULT RED" and which was plastered all over the dirt-stained whitewashed walls. She noticed the men to her right, heard them cry a warning, and instinctively ran to the left as another hollow explosion shattered the glass of one of the metal worm's windows right next to her ear. She screamed, a gibberish of emotions pouring from her lips; fear, anguish, defiance.

The room had no exit that she could see, so she darted right, into the belly of the worm, and saw the inside was a thin corridor with seats either side. She kept running, away from the men, away from the Vault, away from her home. Into the next segment of the beast, passing through open doors and past the upright metal poles that stretched from floor to ceiling.

The end of the creature was another open doorway that led into more darkness. Evelyn didn't hesitate; she was out of the worm in an instant, the men's angry voices echoing down the dark tunnel she now found herself in. She landed awkwardly, and took a wild step forward. Her foot hit something hard and unmoving, and she fell with a cry.

She rose as quickly as she could, muttering curse words as a burst of pain shot through her. She'd landed on her knee; but she could stand, and she could run. _She_ _had to run._

Another shout from behind, and Evelyn was up on her feet. She almost tripped again before she realised that she was running on a floor intersected by thick panels every other step, and quickly learned to alter her pace to avoid stumbling. She could feel the blood trickling down her leg, and her knee screamed with pain with each step.

Slowly, she left the light behind, until she was submerged into utter darkness.

The men behind had flashlights, and Evelyn had to jink from side to side to avoid being caught in their glare. She found that there were two unending raised lines on either side of the narrow tunnel, higher than the central panels that ran perpendicular, and the fleeing vault-dweller was forced to measure each step to avoid tripping over once more. A couple more blasts rang down the tunnel, striking the walls and sending a shower of pellets ricocheting around the passageway.

But even despite her injury, Evelyn was faster than the men. Fuelled by fear and adrenaline, the young woman outpaced her pursuers, and slowly the flashlights grew dim, until she rounded a shallow corner and they were lost for good. She kept running until she could no longer hear their footsteps or their loud, perverse shouts. Even then, she kept running.

Finally, Evelyn slowed. She was gasping for breath; the tunnel's air was dry and warm. Evelyn hadn't felt anything like it. Her throat burned, and she longed for water.

It was a few minutes more before Evelyn's legs allowed her to slow to a walk. The immediate fear had left her, and she trembled from head to foot with its parting. She was still quietly sobbing, shedding dry tears for her lost life, her dead friend, and, in part, her bleeding knee. The emotions of the past hour threatened to overwhelm her, and it was only the pressing fear that the men may return that kept Evelyn moving along the tunnel.

After she had been walking for a few more minutes, Evelyn felt like she must fall off the end of the world. She'd never gone in one direction for so long. She'd never known darkness like this. She'd never smelt such an odour, she'd never known a silence that stretched this far.

More than anything, she'd never felt so alone.

Her mind went back to Eddie; to that one, single moment where she'd seen his head burst, the moment he'd turned from her living, breathing, joking friend... to...

_Nothing._

She found tears from somewhere, and burst out crying. She needed her friend now, she needed to know that she'd be alright, that she – they – would escape this living nightmare. They could make it to another vault, seal themselves in, permanently this time. And her and Eddie could go on having lunches together, and she'd fix the generators, and she'd sleep in her comfortable bed, and she'd not need to walk more than a minute, and always smell the same smell, and never have this darkness that surrounded her right now.

And when she was lonely, or sad, she could go find him, and even though he'd be awkward about it, he'd take her in his arms, and attempt some stupid, corny joke that'd _really_ piss her off, but in the end, it'd take her mind away from whatever it was she was sad about, and they would laugh, and hug it out, and everything would be okay again, until the next time. But that was fine, because she knew what would happen the next time, and the time after that. Time and time again, it would be alright.

But this wasn't okay. She wasn't okay. And her Eddie lay dead, seconds from safety, his lifeless body was sprawled on the edge of her world while she plummeted deeper into the abyss. Alone.

She didn't know how long it had been since she had run. It had been a while, but the darkness enveloped her to the point where her senses could not function. She was barely aware that she'd reached the end of the tunnel, and it was only the fact her path was blocked that finally broke her tearful reverie.

Facing her was another metallic worm, its face staring at her, mocking her, the broken panels of glass looking down the tunnel back the way she had come. A thin light escaped from the top and sides of the beast.

Evelyn looked up. It appeared to be an old-fashioned vehicle, but it was unlike any 'car' that Evelyn had seen in the holotapes. This was long and thin, and the tunnel in which she stood seemed to have been created just for its irregular shape. Its front blocked off the room beyond.

Evelyn stared at the vehicle for a while, feeling her tears dry on her cheek. She couldn't cry any more, she felt numb, and willed her addled mind to force her way past the obstruction.

_Come on Evelyn._

She was well aware that the men might still be behind her, taunting her, trailing her in silence. So, with barely a glance over her shoulder into the void, Evelyn walked up to the face of the worm and reached up.

The glass panels that faced her had shattered, but were still jagged and fierce. She caught hold of an edge carefully and pulled it clear from the frame, and kept at this until her hands bled freely and there was a large enough gap for her to crawl through. She welcomed the pain in her hands, the sharpness brought her mind back into focus and removed the other demons that haunted her thoughts.

Evelyn pulled herself up, into the frame, and fell into a small compartment, rolling over a bank of panels at the vehicle's front end. There was ancient glass on the floor that crackled as she rolled over it and clung to her stained red jumpsuit . Standing, she took in her surroundings.

The worm continued on for several more segments, as the other had done, but this time the vehicle's rear end curled around in a wicked bend to the right, so that Evelyn could only see through the first few compartments. A dim light filtered through each window panel, illuminating the sections.

Evelyn walked down through the vehicle, marvelling at the complexity of each segment. Though peeling and partially ruined, a number of advertisements lined the walls, depicting some form of service or product. Evelyn gaped; she'd never seen these in real-life before, unless she counted the several adverts for Vault-Tec or for Nuka Cola that plastered the cafeteria in Vault Red.

Each compartment was completely shattered. The metal lining was twisted and broken, sometimes bent in on itself, other times missing altogether. No pane of glass was intact. The floor undulated like Evelyn had never known; sometimes it was level, sometimes leaning to the left or right, sometimes it even leaned upward or down. She stumbled carefully through each segment, picking over the glass and trying to ignore what she saw on either side.

For on either side was an army of bones. Some were whole skeletons, who sat or leaned against the walls. Others were limbs, others digits, while still others were unrecognisable fragments and slivers. Evelyn shivered in spite of herself.

She looked down into the staring eye sockets of a skull, grimacing as she did so. Next to the skull was an object, and Evelyn stopped picking over the debris for a moment to examine the item.

It was a box; a container, rectangular and thin. But unlike other containers she had seen, it was not made of metal, but what seemed to be leather – like the old coats that some of the elders passed down to the next generation, back in the Vault. The item seemed almost out of place; nothing else nearby was in such good condition.

She leant over and plucked it up, her fascination momentarily overwhelming her desire to keep moving. The artefact was well kept; despite having slightly melted corners, whatever was inside would presumably have been shielded from the devastation that surrounded her. Gingerly, she set it on a free seat beside her, and with another brief look back at the way she had come to check the men weren't following, she felt for a way to open it.

The case – for that is what it was, she decided, even though this was made of leather and not the dull grey steel of Vault Red – was easy to open, and the catch gave way after a moment of Evelyn's fumbling. The top sprang open, making the young woman jump in surprise, and the case bared its contents.

There was little that truly caught her eye inside. A thin stack of paperwork, a couple of pens, a smaller leather holder that held even smaller pieces of crumbled paper and rounded metal discs. A tiny terminal that only had numbers on its keypad was to one side of the case; although it seemed to be dead to the world, as while Evelyn tapped all the buttons nothing showed on its narrow screen.

She pocketed the small holder and quickly looked through the paperwork, mindful that she should not linger much longer. Most of the paperwork was a mass of figures, some were clearly personal letters, but one official form marked with a Vault-Tec logo caught her eye. She took it out of the pile and read it.

***

Vault-Tec UK Ltd.

101 Baker Street

London

NW1 5 RQ

12th May 2068

Dear Mr. Thompson,

Further to our meeting on April 27th, we would like to formally accept your application to join the Vault-Tec family. Congratulations!

Your application is approved pending the return of your Inhabitant Contract, which we ask that you return as soon as possible in the envelope provided. Once this is received, we will send out the full Vault-Tec Starter Package which will explain everything for you. However, below is a list of key points that you must know should the worst happen before we can reach you again!

Your registered Vault is Vault Red which is located underneath The Thames, by the Victoria Embankment in London. Your contact underground station is Charing Cross.

On activation of the General Alert, please make your way quickly to the underground station and insert your Vault-Tec biometric pass (enclosed) into the Vault-Tec registered door. Show your pass and this letter to the guards and you will be granted access to our exclusive underground station. This station is locked with Vault-Tec's patented security airlock system, capable of withstanding a 50 megaton blast.

An underground train will be waiting and will transport you to the Vault's entrance. Please move quickly.

We suggest you scout out the area of Charing Cross and understand the quickest route to the station at all times. Remember, when the alarm activates, you will have only four minutes to make it through our Security Gate!

Failure to show the requested documentation on demand will result in you being denied entrance to the Vault.

Your application fee is valid for 10 years, after which time you will have to reapply. Your place is guaranteed as long as you contact us by 12th March 2078.

You have registered the following number of inhabitants;

2 ADULTS/3 CHILDREN

***Important* Please note that if you attempt to enter with more than your registered number in your family your Resident status will be automatically terminated. Vault-Tec is not responsible for loss of life as a result of a failure to adhere to guidelines.**

We look forward to seeing you soon!

Vault Red Populator,

_Matthew Coleman_

_***_

Evelyn clucked lightly; so this was a train? She'd heard of them, even seen pictures, but this looked different to any train she'd seen. What she could not understand was why this train – and particularly Mr. Thompson – had not made it to the Vault?

She folded the letter up neatly, and quickly found the Vault-Tec guide to go along with the letter. She pocketed them both before suddenly she heard a sound. Evelyn froze.

There was an echoing sound making its way down the tunnel, from where she had come. The sound was a pair of voices, murmuring to one another, and then the sound of footsteps, a number of them. She stood slowly and stared back down through the train's belly. Coming toward her were the invaders of Vault Red; a mass of men all armed with flashlights. Somewhere behind she could make out the bound silhouettes of those unlucky enough to be caught by the mob. She hadn't been seen yet; but she knew it would only be a matter of time. She'd dallied long enough.

Knowing that the group of men would take their time to crawl through the same window she had, she moved as slow as she dared, favouring silence over speed. Fortunately, the next compartment opened out onto the station, and Evelyn squeezed through the half-open doors and found herself in chaos.

The platform, which Evelyn now understood this room to be, was littered with bones; hundreds, probably thousands of people had perished here. The skeletons were _everywhere, _fanning out from a large open archway toward the train's open doors.

Across the walls there were severe scorch marks, but in certain sections was that same funny logo, the red circle with the blue stripe, and in that stripe was now marked "CHARING CROSS".

Evelyn kept moving, heading for the stairwell that lay beyond the archway. She dashed up the stairs, two at a time, desperate to avoid the bones that cascaded down toward the platform. At the top of the stairwell was another room, and it was here that Evelyn let out a soft gasp.

A huge metallic doorway stood ajar in front of her; fifty feet down the corridor that it was supposed to protect, another huge doorway was open. The corridor was full of bones; they reached waist height, and seemed to be laying on a huge layer of grey dust. Evelyn could not now walk without stumbling over the remains.

The walls were scorched black; very little remained of their original surface, although Evelyn would swear she saw shadowed hands silhouetted against the wall, reaching up to the ceiling. The young Vault-dweller stood horrified; this was a place of death. On that fateful day thousands had died here; the door hadn't been closed, and the huge blast that had wiped out the Earth had also found its way down here. Why the door hadn't been closed, Evelyn could only guess; but, judging from the pile of human remains, she imagined the mayhem that might have occurred here.

The crowd pressing, just like in her dream. Panicking, pushing, overwhelming the guard station, all trying to make it to safety, and as they did so, they doomed themselves The huge metallic doors would have both been forced open, letting in the blinding flash that had evaporated flesh and scoured the tissue from bones.

She saw the scorch marks again; the hands, reaching up, pleading with an uninterested God as the blast vapourised their bodies, leaving them as permanent murals stained against the walls.

Scrambling over the broken bones, and trying to keep down the rising bile in her stomach, the young woman forced her way on. If she lingered, then she'd end up just like these poor bastards; or worse, captured like...

_Like poor Rosie?_

Evelyn forced the images of her old Vault friends out of her mind. That time had gone. Now she was alone, and if she wanted to sit and mourn that, then she'd be dead. Like...

_Like poor Eddie?_

No. Not this time. She wasn't going to go out like that. She'd made it this far; further than any others of Vault Red. No, she _had _to keep going. She wasn't going to die here.

It was hard work, stumbling over the long corridor, cringing when her foot caught a skull, or snapped a bone like a twig. It took a number of minutes to traverse the lengthy passage, at which point there was suddenly a shout from behind her. The vault-dweller fearfully turned round to see the group of men that had been haunting her, a leer on each and every face, and again, those dreaded weapons!

"There she is!" Cried one.

"I'll get her," growled another, whose nose was caked in dried blood. He raised the gun to his shoulder;

And Evelyn dived out of sight, around the corner, just as the tiles behind her exploded in a shower of dust and debris. She was up and running straight away, hearing the curses coming thick and fast. She knew they'd be over that barrier of human remains a lot faster than her.

Ahead of her was another stairwell with metallic steps that stretched well upward. She took to them as fast as she could, hearing the dry crunching coming from the hallway behind her. Still, she would not look back.

_Run you bitch!_ _RUN!_

She willed on her tired legs as she sprinted up to the higher levels, her calves burning with the effort. She was panting freely now, her hands were bleeding again as the scabs tore open on the rubbery handrail, and her knee was awash with pain. She could feel the blood running down into her boots and the sweat trickling down her neck.

There was another gunshot behind her and she felt a slight stinging in her arm. The shells struck all around her, causing a cacophony of noise. Evelyn realised she was screaming as she reached the top of the stairs.

There were more remains around her on this higher level; waist-high barriers seemed to cordon off half the room from the other. It was a large, open plan room with a low ceiling; the largest room Evelyn had ever seen. Corridors and stairwells led away from the room at different angles.

Evelyn did not have time to take it all in; she vaulted the barriers and ran for the steps in front of her, the steps that seemed bathed in an intensity she'd never seen. And then, there appeared more shadows; more men, descending from the glow to finally take her.

She veered off violently to the right as she heard them shout in alarm. Evelyn knew if these men pulled their guns on her, she'd be cut down before she'd ran ten steps. There was the horrific sound of metal sliding over metal, a loud, hollow clicking, and then again, that horrible explosion.

And a second, and a third, and suddenly the room was awash with gunfire. And still Evelyn ran.

She didn't look back, she didn't dare, but the gunfire came from all around her, and she knew that her pursuers must have met the men on the stairs, and clearly they were not allies. The gunfire from her nightmare was back, the rapid, hollow popping, followed by _that _explosion, and she heard the scream of men as flesh was rent from bone.

Evelyn missed the battle, and she was thankful; she'd made it into the long, thin corridor that stretched away from the large room. The passage twisted this way and that, holding endless torn posters that plastered every conceivable part of the wall. She passed another large room, with its low ceiling and waist-high barriers, and then, blessedly, she saw a thin stairwell, again bathed in light. Fear of what might have been chasing her made her take the stairs two by two.

And then, a blinding flash, and Evelyn still climbed, even though she knew she must be dead.

The stairwell stopped, and Evelyn looked upward, into the eyes of God. She tried to show no fear toward her maker; She wasn't a sinner; at least, she didn't _think_ that she was. Sure, she'd shouted at Eddie, but even God would have done that, and God had made the little bastard. She marvelled at how sudden her death had been, how quick and painless it had come, and she thought to ask about whether Eddie had made it as well, before she realised that her death _was_ painful.

Her arm was stinging like nothing she'd ever experienced. She couldn't control her fingers, which spasmed and flickered with every movement of her arm. And her knee, _GOD _her knee hurt!

_No offence, God._

Her throat was raspy, her lungs burned, and that smell... what was that smell? And the sensation of air against her skin... what was that? And what was _that? _That great massive light that stretched across everything?

Then she realised, as her pain increased, God couldn't have taken her. If anything, she'd gone downstairs.

She stood in what she took to be the largest room she would ever see. The ceiling stretched upward infinitely, the floor spread away in every possible direction, and the light, Jesus, that light... it seemed to burn her retinas, to set her very skin on fire! She couldn't handle it!

She whimpered, pitifully, and crouched by the stairwell as she slowly sobbed. _Please let me live... I haven't done anything wrong_...

And for the first time in her life, God appeared to listen.

It took a few moments, but her eyes began to clear, her skin felt less like it was on fire, and the pain in her limbs became manageable again. If anything, the touch of the air on her skin felt cooling, and the light warmed her very soul. In fact, if she cast her eyes down at the floor, she could make out some features. Structures, huge, towering over her, more complex than she could imagine. Different plateaus, railings, a floor made of... what? And the ceiling, well, the ceiling was even higher than she first thought. The one huge spotlight that lit everything. It didn't seem possible. And then...

_You're outside, you idiot._

The realisation dawned on her, and she berated herself for being so stupid. Of course this wasn't a room. That was the sky she saw. Buildings from before the war. _Ground, _not floor. Stone, not metal. And that light, _Oh My God! That's the Sun! _She smiled, despite the pain and anguish of the previous evening. She was outside, and it was _wonderful._

_Oh Eddie, if you could see this..._

The Sun warmed her, and she lifted her head to the heavens. Another whisper of air blew past her, filling her lungs with a breath more refreshing than any she had taken in her life. She looked around, upward as a thick pillar stretched skyward; to her right, where a massive domed building dominated the skyline; to her left, where lines of vehicles lay scattered across the landscape. The outside was so vast! How did she know where to go?

The area around her seemed so empty, so unused. She supposed, in some ways, she was standing near the middle of a huge room, with this pillar at the centre, and the many buildings surrounding her were the walls. But where to go now?

She remembered the men then, those men that could kill so readily, and moved swiftly away from the stairwell. She headed deeper into the massive "room", toward the pillar and the strange shapes that surrounded it. As she approached, awestruck, she realised the column had been shattered, torn in half. The upper part had collapsed and lay in several pieces to one side. Evelyn cautiously rounded the debris and came upon what she supposed had been the top; a figure of a man, made of stone, whose lifeless eyes stared up at the sky. He lay broken into fragments, and Evelyn couldn't guess exactly what part had gone where, but the man's face, with his odd little hat, remained intact. She wondered who this man was, who he could have been. So many things to consider! Her head swam with the new information.

She looked back up at the broken pillar and at the raised slab that held it. It was then she saw the massive beasts shrouded in black. They were themselves made of stone, but seemed to have faired better than the man; the nearest seemed perfectly preserved, its huge form basking in the Sun. The young woman moved closer, brushing some of her loose hair back behind her ears. It almost seemed like these beasts were relaxing, waiting to reawaken.

_Looks like a lion,_ Evelyn eventually decided, calling up memories from her textbooks. But surely these beasts couldn't be this big in real life – these stone animals were so large she doubted even one of them would fit in her apartment!

She soberly remembered that was the same apartment to which she'd never be able to return, and then the emotions were back, flooding through her like a wave. Her lip trembled, and she forced herself away from the ebony creatures.

To her right, just a few steps away, a raised stone lip ran curved erratically around a low body of water. In the centre of the container was another structure of stone, this one barely twice her height. This had delicate edges, like a bowl, and dripped green water into the sludge below.

The water in the main container was barely that. It stank, a putrid, sweet smell that caused Evelyn to ruffle her nose. She was thirsty – _God, was she thirsty, _but she wasn't about to drink from this green slime. She'd seen water like this before, when she'd be sent down into the sewer of the Vault to fix the purifier, and she understood that this water had never been cleaned. It was rank, and Evelyn sighed, her throat crying out for some form of _drinkable_ liquid.

It was then she saw the body.

She froze in place, as still as the statues that dominated this plaza. It wasn't a skeleton, like the many she had seen, but a man, his facial features clearly visible, even though it were like his skin had peeled off in places. Tissue, scars and scabs covered the man's face, and Evelyn fought down another wave of nausea that threatened to consume her.

The corpse still had hair, albeit a light, wispy blonde straggle that barely covered his bleached scalp. The man's eyes were closed, and he almost seemed to be in peaceful slumber, laying as he did so casually against the side of the waist-height wall. Evelyn wondered what on Earth had afflicted this poor soul.

Silently, she moved again, away from the body, and gingerly perched on the wall. It felt good to keep the weight off her wounded knee. Tenderly, she pulled the jumpsuit up from around her right leg, exposing dried blood and her swollen joint. It didn't look as bad as she had feared; she'd gouged out a piece of flesh, but there wasn't bone or gristle showing. She breathed out slowly, thankful that she'd escaped those men without her knee buckling from underneath her. She wished she had something to cover her wound with, but she had nothing; no medkit, not even a stimpak to ease the pain.

Next she turned her attention to her right arm, which still stung and sent shooting pains to the tips of her fingers. She was dismayed to see perforations in her muscle; she'd been hit by that almighty weapon, and while she hadn't suffered the same fate as... as... others, she still felt light-headed because of the injury. Fortunately, the wounds were scabbing over, the blood drying on her arms.

Evelyn took the time then to look at her Pip-Boy – covered in more blood, although this was not her own. She could see past the film of crimson to the bright, green screen, and managed a light smile when she realised that her trusty computer had been collecting information the moment she had left the confines of the vault. The Pip-Boy sent out a constant, low-key radar, picking up walls and other obstructions, and gave Evelyn what she imagined was a birds-eye view of where she was now sitting. She moved her right hand to scroll across the landscape, but her hand refused to move, and her fingers danced involuntarily.

_Damnit._

She was in no shape to operate her Pip-Boy, a fact that drove home her feeling of loneliness and helplessness. She couldn't move her fingers, she doubted she could walk much more, and she needed water, food, and medical attention. She had no idea how she could possibly find such help in this sprawling city she now found herself in.

Fighting back the despair that clung to her, Evelyn forced herself to think things through. She was in London. She knew that, the letter had said the Vault was in London, and she doubted she'd walked far enough underground to clear the settlement. The city might have been destroyed by the Great War, but _some_ things were still standing. There had to be abandoned buildings that held water, that held food, that held something that might help her plight. _There had to be._

She stood once more, hopping awkwardly as a pain shot through her right knee, then she looked up at the massive building in front of her.

The building looked gutted, but it still stood; the dome that rose atop a massive plateau of broken pillars was very much intact. The left part of the building looked to have fallen atop itself, but the central area was upright, and mainly free of debris. She'd start there, she decided. It had to hold something of interest.

She was about to start for the door when something caught her eye. The corpse, laying there so peacefully a few feet away, held something in his hand. It was odd that she hadn't noticed it earlier.

She stumbled back over to the body, and stopped dead in her tracks. In the man's hands was a death-bringer; one of those almighty cannons that had spewed flame, that had torn into her own flesh, that had... _that had murdered her friend._

She was transfixed by its sight, and she moved closer, standing directly over the corpse as her hand went to touch the weapon, to feel its deadly power.

And then, just like that, the weapon moved, smoothly, standing upright and pointing straight at Evelyn.

The young Vault-dweller's jaw dropped, and her legs went to ice. She looked upon the corpse's face to be greeted with intense eyes staring back at her. The man, somehow alive despite his multitude of scars and gashes, had a somewhat serene smile upon his face, and aimed the weapon directly between Evelyn's eyes.

"Mornin' miss," he said, amicably.

_Shit!_

**END OF CHAPTER TWO**


	4. Chapter Three: The Ferryman

**PLEASE STAND BY**

**CHAPTER 3 – The Ferryman**

It was like staring into Death's own face.

This man – no, not this man, this, this, _creature,_ who smirked as he effortlessly held aloft the deathstick with one hand – was mocking her. Mocking her with his lazy smile, his sunken, yellow eyes locked on hers in an icy glare.

Evelyn couldn't run. It wasn't because the weapon's gaping maw was almost kissing her forehead; she just couldn't seem to tell her muscles to do anything. In the back of her mind, something screamed at her to fight, to yell, to scream, to do _anything_ that might rescue her from the Reaper's clutches.

But she couldn't. All she could do was stare into those yellow eyes.

Time stood still; Despite the trunk of the weapon obscuring some of the man's features, Evelyn found, in the eternity she now seemed to possess, that she could see _something_ in those eyes. They weren't the eyes of the man-animals she'd met underground – those eyes that seemed to just want death and destruction, longing for fury and thirsting only for her blood. No, these eyes were deep, contemplating, considering her. They stared back at her without the anger she'd seen before, and somewhere, in the back of her mind, Evelyn allowed a fraction of hope to claw back the fear that had taken hold of her heart.

In that moment – for it was just that, a moment, although Evelyn would vividly remember it as far longer – the young woman managed to take in all the minute features of the man and his gun. An almost repulsive face, his nose was simply not there; it was almost like it had simply fallen off. Underneath was blackened tissue. His skin was sallow and greying, hanging off his face like an ill-fitting mask; his hair almost a mere memory on his head. The man's neck was the worst; rotted flesh seemed to cling to bone, and Evelyn could almost see _through_ parts of it, like the man's head was being stretched beyond breaking.

Evelyn would say that this man was dead. Dead but for one thing; the eyes, those golden eyes. They were full of life, the way they seemed almost amused of the world, as if this were some great cosmic joke and only this man understood the punchline. The eyes spoke of an intelligence that reminded her of... _Eddie. _But this wasn't Eddie. Not by a long shot.

His armour did little to soften the man's appearance – he was clad in a thick, black leather that covered his body apart from the elbows, which showed the grey skin underneath. His legs were protected by thick trousers with padding over the knees and around the waist. His armour seemed lighter than the men she'd encountered in the vault; but then, this... thing, was somewhat smaller in stature. Still, he cut an imposing figure.

And then there was his gun, that cannon, the bringer of Death. Evelyn found herself staring into the eyes of this as well, the long black hollow trunk that coldly gazed back. The rounded undercarriage of the weapon, the flecks of rust and grit that speckled the handle, the decaying finger that hovered unnervingly over the trigger.

_Jesus, I can even smell the damn thing._

It felt like an eternity before she heard anything, and the sound made her jump involuntarily; it was only when she realised that the noise had been that of her knees striking the ground did she flush with shame. She'd sunken to her knees before this man, and why? In reverence to the power he wielded? A burst of pain followed from Evelyn's damaged knee, and she felt fresh blood flow from her wound and onto her jumpsuit.

She looked down then, away from the stare of the weapon and down at the man's thick boots. The silence between the pair stretched further.

Finally it came to a point when the vault-dweller could do no more and opened her mouth to speak, her voice crackled and dry.

"I-"

"I know who you are," rasped the man, cutting her off. His voice sounded as if it were rolling over sandpaper, but the tone was tinged with humour. "Another one of those black widows who stalk the streets, looking to sink your talon into some unlucky bloke."

"I-"

"Oh sure, you might look pretty, and act all weak, but you're just waiting for a chance to nick my caps and put a bullet in my head. I bet you've got a gun just sitting in that back pocket o' yours."

"Well-"

"Well you ain't gonna get a chance. You hear me? You can just go piss off and screw someone else for their money."

That did it. She felt her mind snap, the anger and fury overcoming her senses. Evelyn's head shot up and her cheeks reddened with rage.

"_Excuse me?_ What, you think I'm here to get laid by some fucking zombie? 'Oh look at me, I'm Mr. Bigshot, I've got _such_ a long weapon that I just _love _to wave in girl's faces!"

The red mist descended; there was no stopping the woman now as she raised from her kneeling position, shooting daggers into the startled man's eyes as she thrust an accusing finger toward him.

"You fucking idiot, if you want to shoot me, go ahead, but don't stand there posturing thinking that I'd ever jump your ugly, rotting bones. You want someone in your league? Go fuck a corpse."

The man stared at her with wide eyes, his weapon lowered uncertainly toward her sternum.

"I'm so fucking fed up with you bastards now, you know that?" Evelyn continued, her voice hoarse with rage. "All you men tonight have done is shoot at me with those FUCKING guns of yours, and all I get to do is run. Well then shoot me. You'd be doing me a favour, you know that? Better that than bump into more men like you who have nothing more to do than chase me around and say 'Ooh, look at me, I'm so fucking brave, I'm shooting at a woman who's half my size and who _isn't_ armed with one of my FUCKING gun-dicks! Wow, look at me, I'm sure to get laid now! Doesn't matter that I've got FUCKING LEPROSY AND MY DICK FELL OFF WHEN I WAS TWELVE!'"

She shouted out the last of her splurge, feeling her stomach cramp with the hatred and her throat tighten with rage. It felt something of a relief, to get out all the anger and fear in one shouted rant.

Then Evelyn remembered she'd asked the man to kill her, and she fell silent.

The man was staring with disbelief at her; his eyes rimmed with tears. He tightened his grip on his weapon;

And burst out laughing.

Evelyn stood stock-still, not sure whether or not she should just leave the man to it. He was still armed, but the weapon was resting on the floor, it's owner bent double in a fit of hysterical laughter that claimed the very air from his lungs. He coughed, desperate to catch his breath, but once he had done so the laughter resumed and he fought to stay upright.

Evelyn grit her teeth, letting out a choked breath. She felt humiliated, this man was mocking her more than she could bare. Her face was flushed with embarrassment.

After a few more moments, Evelyn decided that she should just walk away, and she took a step in the direction of the building in front of her.

"Gun...dicks??" The man managed to wheeze between his laughter.

"Oh fuck you," the young woman said under her breath, still slightly unsure of whether or not she'd get a bullet in her back. The adrenaline was still pumping through her tired veins, though it looked as if she'd survived once more.

"Wait..." the man wheezed again, controlling himself. "Wait wait, you..." he took a deep breath. "You won't get in there."

Evelyn sighed. _All men are bastards,_ she decided. "Why not?" She didn't even turn to face the man.

"'Cos you're not welcome. You need a reason, smooth-skin?" It was said without malice between his breathless chuckles. It looked as if he'd start laughing again any second.

The vault-dweller turned slowly and fixed the man with another hard glare. "Look. I've had a pretty rough night. I'm tired and hungry. If there are people in there, even if they're retards like you, I'm going in. Okay?"

"Aww come on love," he said, his accent throwing Evelyn off for a moment. "Look, I don't want to have to shoot you – but I will." He raised the gun to his chest. "We don't like strangers in the Gallery. I'm the guard here, y'see, and I'm supposed to keep out your kind." Again, his tone was light, almost friendly, but the laughter from before had clearly worn off.

Evelyn looked at the decomposing man. She decided she'd really had enough of him, but that weapon that he brandished was still a threat. "Okay," she said, slowly. "Exactly what is 'my kind'?"

The man chuckled. "Like you don't know."

"No." Evelyn faced him, her hands going to her hips. "I don't."

His smile died, and he looked at the woman with a querying gaze. "Fine," he sighed. "You smooth-skin lot. You're always pushing us ghouls about."

Evelyn frowned, uncertain. "So... what, there are _more_ of you in there? Like you?"

The ghoul rolled his eyes. "No, really?" The sarcasm dripped from his lips.

"What, and you're all just sat around, rotting away? Acting all shitty about the rest of the world until you croak?"

The man blinked, taken aback. "It's not like we just sit on our haunches, picking our skin off! Nah, we just like a place to call our own, where we're not slapped around all day. Besides, we'll be around long after you've gone and shuffled off this mortal coil, love"

Evelyn looked toward the building again, imagining a building full of these rotting corpses. She let out a little shudder as she said "Yeah, right."

The ghoul's eyes were no longer full of amusement – instead his brow was pulled forward in a furrow, his eyes now thin. He looked Evelyn up and down. Finally his eyes widened. "You're not from around here, are you." There was no sarcasm now, his voice was deadly serious.

Evelyn looked back into the man's eyes. "No," she said, softly. "Not really."

The ghoul nodded slowly. "And you... you don't really know who we are, do you?"

Evelyn shrugged. "A bunch of patronising dicks?"

Slowly the smile returned to the man's face, till it threatened to overwhelm him once more. "Oh, I like you, love!" He laughed, heartily. "For someone who doesn't know shit, you sure seem to have some big balls!"

The woman frowned, but allowed a small smile to play over her lips. She doubted the man meant that as any form of insult. "I'm glad you like big balls," she said, drily.

The ghoul stared at Evelyn for a moment more, then let out a roar of laughter, his eyes closed, his head thrown back. The woman managed a light chuckle, feeling a form of release that she hadn't all day. They both sensed the break of tension, the easing of the air between them.

"Look," Evelyn said after a moment, trying to keep her tone light. "I'm just after some food, maybe a bed for a little while. I'm not gonna piss anyone off, not gonna 'push you guys around' or whatever. You won't know I'm there."

The ghoul's humour had returned, the same spark in his eyes that Evelyn had seen before. "Well love, I think you'd be a laugh to have around, but I'm not sure 'bout the others. They'd not be too happy about me letting in a smooth-skin."

"Would they be happy if they knew you were sleeping on the job?" Evelyn could not hide her devious smile. She'd always had a way with words; a way to twist the situation round to her advantage.

"Now hang on a mo, love!" He smile remained, but there was a definite edge to his voice. "I was just resting my eyes, I wasn't asleep or anything!"

"And with those nasty men around too..." Evelyn tutted, sadly.

"Fine!" Snapped the ghoul, suddenly. "Fine, whatever. Come in, have a look around, get spat on for all I care." Evelyn bounced happily on her toes – her luck was definitely changing. She felt light as air.

"How many caps y'got?" he rasped.

The bouncing stopped. "What?"

"Caps! Y'know, money, moolah, cash, dosh, all that jazz?"

Evelyn frowned. "Again: _What?_"

The ghoul's face brightened, and both sensed the shift in power.

"Well well. Little miss big balls ain't got no money. So what – you expected us to just _give _you some food?" He chuckled softly, shaking his head slowly in a mocking gesture that was starting to grate on Evelyn.

"I guess I never thought about that." She honestly hadn't; while food and accommodation were technically not free in the vault, they were taken for granted – the vault-dweller simply had to perform their allocated job and everything was taken care of. Evelyn realised the same would probably be true up here on the surface. "I can work for it?" she asked, hopefully

"Well that's just great love, but it don't do much good in the Gallery. No ghoul'll let you work in that place. Nah, you need money, up front, and maybe, _maybe_, I can let you in for a night. But no caps, no food."

Evelyn bit her lip, frustrated. She felt deflated. "Oh. Well then, I guess... I should go." She ran her fingers through her hair, unsure of what to do next, hopeful that this ghoul might still save her. Suddenly her knee screamed in pain, reminding her that she wouldn't make it far. Her fingers twitched, her stomach rumbled and her throat closed up against the dry air.

The ghoul sighed. "'Ang on," he said, his tone friendly. "You got anything else you can trade?"

For some reason that shook Evelyn to her core. No, she had nothing to trade. She was lucky she was wearing her jumpsuit, there hadn't been time to grab anything else. She'd just been evicted from her home, been forced to traipse through miles of underground, been shot at, and now here she was, wounded and alone, and without a single "cap" to her name. She felt defeated, and it was all she could do not to cry there and then.

A single tear did manage to escape, and it rolled down her cheek before the woman gently cuffed it away.

The ghoul clearly noticed, and was quick to slot his shotgun back into his shoulder holster. "'Ey 'ey, love, it's okay!" His voice was quiet, calm. "What about that thing on yer wrist? Can you not part with that?"

Evelyn's eyes were locked to the ground. She shook her head, sadly. "No," she said, softly. "It's biometrically locked."

"Bio-_what?_" The ghoul said, trying to make the woman laugh again. He failed.

There was an awkward silence, another one, broken only by a light breeze which caught hold of some discarded paper and sent it rustling around the plaza. Secretly, Evelyn wished this man would just take pity on her and let her in regardless – but as the silence stretched, she realised she had only one option.

"Um," Evelyn finally said, regaining her composure. "Then could you please point me to the nearest 'smooth-skin' place?"

The ghoul sighed again, a heavy sigh. He wore a look of regret. "Well, love, you just head down Whitehall there, and you'll be at Big Ben City." He pointed to a street the other side of the square, leading directly away from the building. "T'ain't too far, but they'll be the same, they'll want caps up front."

Evelyn limped past the man, determined not to waste any more time. Her jaw was set. "Well I'll just have to work for it, won't I," she said stoically.

The woman had limped a few paces before her legs wobbled and she tumbled heavily onto her hands and knees. She swore, softly, ignoring the sting as the skin was torn from her fingers. She quickly righted herself, biting her lip through the pain, staring through tear-filled eyes. There had to be hope somewhere in this God-forsaken place, and she'd come too far to just lay down and die now. If she couldn't find it from that 'ghoul', then she'd have to keep going. Never mind that her knee was now awash with pain, or that her tumble had reopened her wounds on her hands, or that she was alone, and helpless, and-

"Hey," the ghoul said, breaking Evelyn's sad reverie. Secretly she was grateful; more of those thoughts would have her breaking down before she even got ten paces.

"What?" Evelyn spat. She refused to turn around and show the man the tears that flowed down her cheeks.

"What d'ya want for the gun?"

The woman frowned. Why on Earth would she want that cannon of his, that spewed flame and death? And didn't she just tell this bastard that she had nothing to trade?

"Looks like a nice piece," the ghoul added.

Evelyn froze. _The gun!_ She'd forgotten that she had a gun sitting comfortably in her rear pocket. True, it was unloaded, but maybe, _maybe_, she could trade something for it – a bottle of water, a cup of noodles, a warm bed... hope soared within Evelyn's heart again, and she could no longer stop the tears that flowed.

At first, she stood facing away from the ghoul, too embarrassed to turn around and face him. She didn't want him to see what a complete state she was in; how her ambivalent emotions coursed through her veins, how out of control and lost she felt in this insane world she now found herself in. All those feelings played over her face, mirrored in the warm, salty tears that flowed down her cheeks. She sobbed quietly.

_Fuck it,_ she thought, eventually, as she turned around and faced the ghoul. He seemed unabashed at the woman's tears.

She took the gun out, gingerly, and made it the few steps back toward the man. "It's not loaded," she said, quietly, worried that the fact she had no ammunition would ruin her chances of a sale.

The ghoul looked up at her, a smile growing on his lips. "I know, love," he said, just as quietly. "Could tell that from its shape in your pocket. Don't matter." He reached out and gently took the weapon from her, rolling it around in his yellow hands. "Nice. N99 10mm, yeah?" He looked down the sights.

Evelyn shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

The ghoul shot her an amused glance before expertly taking the gun apart piece by piece. "Wow... this is a top quality gun."

Evelyn tried to cuff away her tears, the sadness still clinging to her voice. "Really?"

The ghoul's eyes widened in excitement as he revealed each piece. "You fucking kidding me? This thing is, like, _pristine!_ You have any idea what this is worth?"

Had Evelyn been thinking clearly, she'd have snatched it back from him and said that of course she did, what was she, fucking _stupid_? Then she'd have politely asked him to make an offer, and then she'd have laughed and doubled it.

As it was, though, all Evelyn could manage was a barely audible "No."

The ghoul clicked the gun back into place. "This thing's perfect. Worth, ooh, easy a hundred fifty."

"Is that good?"

The man looked back at Evelyn, noticing the rivets of tears that were drying on her face. Any sarcastic comment died on his lips, instead he simply said, "It's enough for a bite to eat, a bed, and plenty left over, put it that way."

Joy burst through the woman's heart and she felt relief flow over her trembling, tired body. Evelyn felt like hugging the man, were she sure he wouldn't fall apart in her arms. Instead she smiled, giggled like a child, and let more tears run down her face. The ghoul nodded toward the building, and the pair slowly made their way, the man keeping to Evelyn's slower, limping pace.

"Listen, let me sell this for you. Mostly good men and women in there, but if you try and sell this thing I can guarantee you'll get ripped off."

Evelyn was too tired to argue.

"And try not to call any of us zombies, alright? We don't like that."

Evelyn smiled, keeping her eyes to the ground, careful she didn't stumble again. "Okay," she managed. "So, what? You're 'ghouls'?"

The ghoul smirked, and looked over at his new companion. "Well, yeah, but it's better if you just call us by our names. I'm Phlegyas."

Evelyn managed a soft snort. "Phlegyas?"

The ghoul laughed. "Yeah, I know, I sound like someone clearing their nose." Evelyn barked a laugh at that, and the two chuckled for a few moments as they carefully made it up a few stone steps to the plateau in front of the building.

"I'm Evelyn," said the woman, her tears forgotten.

"Nice name," Phlegyas replied. "Wish mine were easier to say. Everyone just calls me Phleg, by the way."

"Phleg," Evelyn repeated as they neared the door. "Okay. Well, thank you for helping me Phleg. I promise I won't tell anyone that you were sleeping."

Phlegyas' head whipped round to argue, but instead a smile grew over his lips when he saw Evelyn's smirk. "Yeah yeah!" He laughed, but then paused at the door, staring at Evelyn with a serious glare. "Listen, let me do the talking when we go in. You'll get a bit of crap from these guys, but they're alright. Just don't do anything to piss them off. Can you manage that? For like, a second?"

Evelyn gave a tired smile. "I'll try."

Phlegyas held the gaze for a moment, just to prove he was serious, then pushed on the heavy wooden doors. Evelyn had never seen doors that swung open, and stared at them mouth agape.

The inside was gloomy and slightly cold; the smell was musty and dry. At first, the features were hidden by the blinding light of the outside; it was only when Evelyn's eyes cleared that she could make out the room she now found herself in. It was an open area with a high ceiling, much like the Vault's atrium, although made of stone. The far wall was only twenty feet away; a wall seemingly made of rubble and corrugated iron. A concrete stairwell ran either side of the room, leading up to a second floor balcony that looked over the lobby. She saw another ghoul in front of her, sat behind an ageing wooden desk that looked almost out of place in the otherwise grey, featureless arena.

The heavy wooden doors fell closed behind the pair, and Evelyn was quick to glance a final look at the wondrous outside. It pained her to be leaving the open so soon after reaching it, with its bright light and warming Sun, but she consoled herself with the fact that she was, at last, safe.

That feeling lasted a few moments, before she was again facing down the barrel of a gun.

"Phleg!" Called the ghoul, warily, his eyes on Evelyn, his weapon trained on her chest. It wasn't one of the deathsticks that she so hated; this was similar to the machine guns that the Vault security team had wielded. That recognition didn't make Evelyn feel any easier.

"Hey Abel," Phlegyas said airily. "Don't shit your pants – she's with me."

Abel, clearly another guard, seemed unconvinced. "You just picking up random smooth-skins now?"

Phlegyas walked confidently toward the ghoul, beckoning Evelyn to follow. "Yeah," he laughed, "something like that. She's in a bad state, and she's got the caps. She won't be any trouble."

Abel looked Evelyn up and down, a look of revulsion on his face. Abel was smaller compared to Phlegyas, and skinnier too, but he still seemed dangerous in his own right. The woman repressed a shudder.

Finally he shrugged, lowering the weapon to the desk. "Hey, no skin off my nose." The man, like Phlegyas, had no nose at all. "She don't look like she's about to go shooting up the place. But you know Laz won't be happy 'bout it."

Phlegyas laughed. "Lazarus can go suck my dick," he said, although not with conviction.

"Your funeral. I'm guessing you want me outside while you give this... lady... the tour??"

"Yeah, I'll owe you one."

Abel frowned, making a dramatic show of getting to his feet. "You already do, mate. But alright. Getting bored in here anyway." He flashed a toothless grin at Evelyn as he passed, but the grin was tinged with malice. "Have fun, honey," he smirked. "Don't worry, Phleggy-boy don't bite... but I might." He snapped at the woman, causing her to jerk back.

"Piss off, Abel," Phlegyas said, stepping between Evelyn and the guard.

"Ah, just joking," he laughed, already heading for the door. Evelyn didn't believe that he was.

The door swung open again, then crashed home with a hollow echo, leaving the pair alone in the room.

"Don't worry about that twat. He's all talk."

Evelyn managed to mutter something under her breath.

Phlegyas motioned for her to follow, and together they climbed up the left-hand stairwell. Evelyn found it hard going, her knee groaning with each step and her muscles trembling with the effort. At the top were a pair of double doors that were already thrown open, leading the pair into the room beyond.

The room was fairly long and crowded, made of featureless stone like the room below. Various gold-edged frames hung on the walls, the paintings they had displayed were all long-since removed or destroyed. There was at least a dozen ghouls wandering around this area, either chatting, working at an aged terminal, or even engaged in some light repair work. Doors lined the sides of the room, and some steps led up to a central dais placed near the rear of the chamber. On that platform was a hollow square of wooden desks, with battered terminals and all manner of spare parts strewn chaotically over the surface. In the centre of the desks, a man looked up at the approaching pair, offering a wide-eyed glare followed by a snarl. He rose quickly, awkwardly manoeuvred past the barrier and jumped down the steps toward them.

Evelyn tried not to focus on him, nor the other ghouls who had begun to stop and stare at her. She felt her breath catch in her throat, and tried desperately not to burst out into a fresh wave of tears. In a matter of moments, the chamber had fallen a deathly silent, the ghouls frozen in place like statues each with a disgusted grimace plastered across their faces. This was all too much for the Vault-dweller.

"Phlegyas!" The approaching man boomed loudly, his voice thick with rage. Evelyn leapt out of her skin, but kept her eyes to the floor to avoid the wrath of this man. "What the fuck is this?" The ghoul's deep voice echoed in the suddenly silent chamber.

Phlegyas stood his ground. "Cool it Lazarus, this-"

"I don't give a flying fuck who this is," the man interrupted, closing on the pair. "You know the rules about bringing in smooths. I want her out. Now."

Phlegyas took a deep breath, steeling himself for the argument. The room remained silent; the ghouls watching with a morbid fascination at the conflict that waged before them. Lazarus stopped a pace before Phlegyas, his hands shaking with rage.

"Listen Lazarus. This girl's in bad shape. She's not armed, she's been shot up, she won't even make it across the square without our help."

The ghoul named Lazarus looked fit to explode. "I don't-"

"I," Phlegyas said loudly, talking over the agitated man, "personally vouch for her. She isn't a threat, Laz, and she'll die if we don't do something. We're not fucking animals, are we? Anyway, she'll be gone by tomorrow morning, I give you my word." Phlegyas put a reassuring arm on Evelyn's, but she quickly shied away from the contact. If the ghoul was offended, he did not say anything.

Lazarus stared at Phlegyas, his wrinkled skin as flushed as it would allow, his yellow eyes blazing with thunder. The group of ghouls seemed to hold their breath. Evelyn just wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole – she was a complete outcast in this place. Her humiliation was complete, and she vaguely wondered what on Earth she'd done to deserve this.

The silence stretched, and Evelyn risked a glance upward. Lazarus was staring at her, but, like Phlegyas before him, he appeared to notice the fragility in the girl, the naivety of a woman who clearly did not belong in this madness. Finally, after many moments of contemplation, there was that same softening behind the eyes. Lazarus let out a deep sigh. "She got caps?" He kept his eyes on the girl.

Phlegyas snorted. "Course she's got caps," he lied, effortlessly. "What, you think I'm starting up a fuckin' charity here?"

Lazarus clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists and releasing. This man still did was not convinced with the idea; Evelyn could see it in his face. He was a larger man, almost portly, his rotten skin hanging off his fleshy cheeks, his eyes burning with a unfathomable anger. Instead of Phlegyas' combat armour, he wore a ruffled grey suit with a sombre tie, but this did little to make his appearance softer. Evelyn felt herself wilting beneath his gaze, and was about to break down into sobs when Lazarus abruptly turned back to Phlegyas. She heard the crowd draw a breath, but her eyes were fixed to the floor.

"Tomorrow morning." The ghoul said, almost too quiet for anyone else to hear.

"I promise," Phlegyas replied, an easy smile appearing on his face.

Lazarus stared for a moment longer before turning on his heels and skulking back to the platform. Slowly, the ghouls came back to life and work resumed in the busy room.

Phlegyas patted Evelyn heartily on the shoulder, making her flinch. "What did I tell you, huh?" He seemed immensely proud of himself. "C'mon, let's get you patched up."

Evelyn kept her face to the floor as she awkwardly followed the ghoul through the milling throng. She couldn't face the stares any more, and tried not to listen to the outraged whispers that surrounded her as she walked the length of the room. She couldn't believe it; had some 'ghoul' walked through Vault Red just last night, _they'd_be the bastards being stared at, with their creepy voices and decaying skin, and the thought gave her a moment of grim satisfaction before she understood the hypocrisy of it all and let the anger drop. She was the visitor here, the alien, and she supposed that now she was evicted from the vault that was how it would _always_ be. She tried not to focus too much on that sobering thought, but still she felt the tears sting her eyes and the shame flare on her cheeks.

Finally they reached a doorway on the left, and Phlegyas all but pushed her into the new room. "Don't worry about Lazarus either," he whispered once they were out of earshot. "He's a bastard, but he's got a good heart. Just wants to keep this place running. Can't blame him for that, can you?" Evelyn managed a shy shrug as a reply.

"Oh Phleg, what the hell you got yourself into now?" A voice rasped.

Evelyn looked up; a female ghoul was eyeing both of them, although her gaze seemed less abrasive than that of the ghouls in the main room. She would have been pretty, Evelyn guessed, were she not a ghoul; her thinning red hair still fell down her shoulders, and her cheekbones were raised, pulling her wrinkled skin taut. Her lips were still reasonably full, not cracked and dry like Phlegyas'.

The ghoul sat idly on a bed, one of three in the room, and Evelyn was quick to spot the rows of scalpels and bonesaws, the rack of stimpaks and the light blue curtain that separated each cot. This was the infirmary, and while it didn't have the same 'clean' feel as the Vault's own medical bay there was something warm and inviting about the room – mainly, Evelyn supposed, because of this woman with her kind smile.

"Hey Denise!" Phleg's voice was full of warmth. "Before you say anything-"

"Yeah, yeah, you're always a sucker for the women." Denise smiled, and offered a playful wink toward Evelyn, who returned a shy smile. Denise was the first ghoul, Phlegyas excluded, that had shown true kindness toward her, and Evelyn was grateful for that. She immediately felt guilty for dismissing Denise as 'ugly', there was a warmth in her smile that made Evelyn feel like she'd known this woman for years.

Phlegyas smiled. "This is Denise, my sister," he said to his new companion. "Denise, this is Evelyn. She's a bit battered, figured you could take a look at her?"

Denise nodded. "I guessed this wasn't a social visit. My Lord, dear, you really have been in the wars haven't you!" She looked Evelyn up and down, and it was then that the Vault-dweller truly took stock of her own appearance. Her jumpsuit was torn and frayed at the edges, and the darker black patches clearly showed where Evelyn had bled onto the fabric. Underneath her arms were large sweat patches, and her hair was plastered across her face. Guiltily, Evelyn was glad she was around people who clearly had lower standards of appearance.

She nodded in agreement to the kind woman, earning another warm smile. "Never mind. I'll get you patched up. Need to get you out of that jumpsuit, though." Denise shot a warning glance at her brother.

Phlegyas blinked once, then started, suddenly. "Oh. Oh! Oh, yeah, right. Uh, Evelyn, listen, I'll leave you with Denise for a bit so you can get patched up. I'll come back in a little bit to make sure you're okay, alright?"

Evelyn shot her Phlegyas a worried glance – she'd come to see this man as her protector, despite knowing him for less than half an hour, and now he was going to leave her?

"Don't worry," he said, soothing Evelyn's unspoken fears. "Denise is our medic, she won't hurt you. Besides, you won't find a nicer woman this side of the Thames."

Evelyn wasn't convinced, but Denise waved him away with a smile. "Always the charmer. Don't worry, I'll look after her."

Phlegyas nodded and smiled, then left the room, closing the door behind them.

"Okay honey, now let's get you out of those overalls." Denise's voice was warm and caring, but Evelyn still hesitated.

"Look," she said, kindly. "I'm a doc who looks after ghouls. Chances are, I've seen far worse than whatever you've got hiding underneath there." She giggled.

Evelyn stared at the woman for a moment, unsure whether that was a joke. She finally smiled sheepishly, and gingerly peeled off her jumpsuit, wincing as it took raw skin with it. She felt suddenly cold, and shivered against the cool air of the room.

Evelyn was still dressed in her underwear, but this didn't stop her from blushing; she'd never seen anyone other than Doctor Richmond for her medical needs, and he was a kindly old man, not some freakish ghoul with withered hands. Still, she had to admit that Denise's touch was surprisingly warm and soft; she'd expected it more to be as if someone were drawing a file over her skin.

The ghoul quickly and quietly explored Evelyn's wounds, making light noises of disapproval at the damage she saw. Evelyn's knee was bad enough, and her right leg was stained in blood. Quickly, the woman wiped off the crusted gore with a warm towel and wrapped the knee in a thick, tight bandage. She then applied a stimpak to the area, the pain instantly dissipating. Evelyn felt the soothing warmth spread down her limbs and released a sigh in pleasure.

Denise didn't seem bothered to hear Evelyn's story, which was just as well as the young woman was reluctant to tell it. Instead, the doctor efficiently moved to each of Evelyn's wounds, wrapping them in bandages or wiping them clean. Her arm, she announced, would require slightly more work, and without a further word Denise applied a soothing gel to the gunshot wound. Evelyn gasped in surprise, before the pain disappeared suddenly. Her arm felt heavy, and she struggled to keep it upright.

"Lay down, dearie," Denise said calmly, pushing the woman gently onto her front on the bed. "This won't hurt, I promise."

Denise was right; it didn't hurt Evelyn at all, for as soon as she lay down on the bed the exhausted Evelyn fell asleep, lost in a hazy dreamworld of sirens wailing and freakish ghouls reaching out to touch her.

**END OF CHAPTER 3**


	5. Chapter Four: A Tale of Two Travellers

**PLEASE STAND BY**

_Author's notes: Thank you for your kind reviews. I wasn't sure about the last chapter, I think it was a little too slow, even for me. This next chapter might also be a little quiet; but don't worry, Evelyn will be out on the dangerous streets before you know it! I was contemplating merging these two chapters, but for now, I'll leave them be._

_As for the plot – I've got a basic idea, but I'm trying to just go with the flow. This is a Fallout 3 story, so I'm hoping it's fairly open-ended, if not a little brutal!_

_And as for the attack on Vault Red – I'd recommend you go onto the main Fallout website and look up the Penny Arcade comics for an even bleaker view. Vault 77 was by far the worst experiment, and I unashamedly take a quote directly from its pages..._

"_The vaults were never supposed to _save _anyone."_

_Peace out, enjoy the next chapter, and please, keep reading._

**CHAPTER 4 – A Tale of Two Travellers**

Evelyn's throat was on fire as she vomited the remainder of the water from her belly, her face flushed with embarrassment as she shamefully allowed a final glob of spittle to fall from her lips into the bucket.

She'd pretty much emptied the bar with that last stunt; the ghouls had already seemed resentful that she was residing with them, and few wanted to stay in the same room as the "smooth-skin". Phlegyas had sat her down in the dingy room only a few minutes earlier, a room that stank of a raw, sweet smell that made Evelyn scrunch her nose in disgust. Then the exodus had begun, and Evelyn had just sat there feeling like a fool while the ghouls around her had barely cast her a second glance. She was obviously not welcome here, and had been surprised when the bartender, from behind his damp, moulding wooden slab that passed as the bar, had offered a wary nod in greeting and taken Phlegyas' order without complaint.

Evelyn had eyed the bottle of water greedily; she all but snatched it from her companion, tearing off the lid and gulping down the liquid. She gasped in surprise at its taste; it reminded her more of vodka than water; and then the burning has started. Her stomach rebelled against the water, and she barely managed to shout a warning before Phlegyas had pulled her over to the bucket in the corner.

She kept her eyes on the floor as she lifted her shaking body away from the puddle of sick; Evelyn couldn't understand what had happened, but she couldn't bear to look up and see Phlegyas' sneering face or hear his rasping laugh. Instead, when she finally dared flick her eyes upward, the ghoul had an angry frown upon his face. He snatched up Evelyn's arm, dragged her to a side table and all but threw her onto the seat before he stormed off to the bar once more.

While the ghoul was away, Evelyn gloomily picked at the bandage on her right arm. Denise, the kindly woman who had fixed her up, had done a wonderful job. Apparently Denise had dislodged two pieces of shot from Evelyn's arm while she had slept; the nurse had also seen fit to clean her vaultsuit (as best she could) and wipe the crusted blood from her Pip-Boy. When Evelyn had awoken around three hours later, she had been quickly and calmly ushered into a shower, where even though the cold water had stung her wounds and chilled her to the bone, she had happily washed away the sweat and grime from her body. The cold water teased her, for she was so thirsty, but Denise had already warned the woman quite sternly _not _to drink any, for her own good. After the shower she'd changed back into her torn jumpsuit and thanked a modest Denise for all of her help.

Then Phlegyas had returned, clearly happy that she was awake and looking better, and ushered her across the busy lobby of the Gallery and into the bar, with its rancid smell and creeping shadows. The bar had no windows and was lit poorly by a couple of bare lightbulbs that hung precariously from the cracked stone ceiling. Behind the bartender sat all manner of bottles and a number of refrigerators which hummed loudly over the quiet music that was piped through the room by a single radio placed on the bar. It was, all in all, a depressing place, and Evelyn had managed to remove all but a handful of its occupants.

Evelyn jumped as Phlegyas landed on the seat opposite hers. He harshly pushed another cool bottle of water at her before popping open a bottle of beer and swigging half of the contents in one gulp.

The young woman could see the ghoul's eyes burning into her, but she refused to look up; instead she concentrated on the sweating bottle of water in front of her, acutely aware of how dry and raw her throat felt. Her belly was still unsteady, and did a backflip at the thought of tasting another bottle of that rancid liquid.

"Go on. Drink it. It'll be okay." Phlegyas spoke gruffly.

Evelyn risked a glance at the ghoul, and noticed with relief that there seemed to be a slight softening to his features. She was certain she'd soon find out the reason for his anger; presumably it lay deeper than just the embarrassing faux pas she'd just committed in the middle of the bar.

Tentatively, the young vault-dweller reached out, nervously unscrewed the cap and, readying herself for the worst, she took a draught of the water.

It was the most satisfying drink she'd ever had; the water tasted somewhat stale, but her throat welcomed the relief and her stomach growled in content. She quickly finished the bottle and longed for more, but guessed that perhaps she'd be rude to ask.

Blessedly, the ghoul pulled out another bottle a bag he had kept underneath him, and offered it once more to Evelyn. She smiled, and nodded gratefully, unscrewing the cap and desperately trying to finish this bottle slower than the last.

She sighed, contentedly. At long last, she felt somewhat human again.

"Okay. Time for you to tell me what's fucking going on." Phlegyas' harsh voice tore through her happiness.

"What do you mean?" Evelyn answered, not sure how much information she needed to divulge. How would he react if he found out she'd grown up in a vault, far, far away from the madness in which she was now engulfed? It was clear that she'd lived a sheltered life, and enough of the ghouls already seemed to resent her simply for her intact skin.

"Don't play fucking cute with me love." The anger didn't quite reach his eyes, but still he glared at Evelyn with a cold, unyielding stare. "You turn up, unarmed, in the middle of London. You're wearing some stupid, thin looking suit, you've got no backpack, no food, drink, chems or even any caps."

Evelyn fidgeted nervously but stayed silent.

"You don't know what we are, you don't know where _you_ are, and to top it all off, you can't even handle some dirty water. Either you've literally just been born from the Virgin Mother herself, or you lived underground all your life. And even then, the tube's an ugly place to grow up, and I don't think you've got the Tuber look about you."

Evelyn stayed silent. She didn't want to tell Phlegyas anything more than she already had; but she felt backed into a corner.

Phlegyas waited a moment, but when it was clear that he'd get no reply, he continued in a quieter, calmer voice. "Alright look. I don't need to know your life story; but I've taken you in, pissed a few people off, and now everyone's going to be real nervous after that stunt you just pulled. Least you can do is tell me where you came from."

Evelyn felt hurt that she was getting blamed for something that didn't seem to be her fault; but silently she knew she couldn't keep her secret any longer. If she had to tell anyone, it might as well be this man, who had looked after her and taken her under his wing.

"Okay," Evelyn said slowly, taking another sip of the water and trying to ignore her rumbling stomach. "Truth is, I was born and raised in a Vault."

Phlegyas stared at her for a long time, his beer momentarily forgotten. Finally he spoke; "This isn't a joke, love."

"It's no joke," Evelyn insisted quietly.

"No. They're myths. There's no such thing as Vaults, everyone knows that. Some wasteland wanderer would have found them by now, and they'd have been picked clean. You can't keep a big thing like that secret."

Evelyn shrugged. "Well that's the truth." She said, curtly, some of her attitude creeping back into her voice.

"No, I'm not accepting that. Don't spin me some tale of-"

"It's _true!_" Evelyn hissed, careful to keep her voice low.

"No it's not." Phlegyas seemed so sure of himself. "Go on, prove it."

Evelyn sighed, clenching her fist in frustration. She wondered how she could adequately prove it, and considered briefly if it wouldn't be easier to lie, and to admit she was just a 'Tuber', or whatever it was that Phlegyas had said. But she'd be unable to back up such a claim, and she doubted whether Phlegyas' patience would stand her lying to him. Besides, the gauntlet was thrown; Evelyn hated to be called a liar, even when she was, and her mind spun through several ideas that would put this ghoul firmly in his place.

A brief flash of inspiration hit her; and she reached down into her pocket to triumphantly pull out the messily folded papers and the wallet she had found from the case underground. Glad that Denise had clearly emptied the artifacts from her jumpsuit before washing it, Evelyn slapped the crumpled mess on the table with a smirk.

"Read it and weep, zombie-boy," she said, perhaps a little too loudly, and almost certainly too arrogantly.

Phlegyas' eyes flared a caution, but then a small smirk played across his lips and he dramatically plucked the papers from the heap. He studied several for a while, leaving Evelyn alone with her thoughts.

Evelyn was aware of how depressing her thoughts had become over the past few years. She'd rarely daydream of success, or happiness, or even love; instead she was consumed with paranoia or self-pity. What were the Taylor Twins saying behind her back this time? Why had Tom giggled quietly when she had walked over to join him for lunch yesterday? What story had Eddie_ really_ told everyone about that time when she'd drunk her first vodka and passed out on the floor of his bedroom? Again though, she was well aware of how petty such concerns seemed now, considering Eddie was dead, as were Tom and the Taylor Twins she supposed.

Instead of reflecting on such grief, Evelyn forcibly steered her mind toward facing this new world. When she had first entered the 'Gallery', as the ghouls called their home, she had hoped to win them over as easy as she had Phlegyas. She'd thought she could charm them with a few well-placed jokes, a tear to the eye and a dedication to do well; she thought fleetingly she'd be allowed to stay and work. It'd be tough at first, but she was a survivor, the only free person from Vault Red, and she'd work hard and finally she'd open up her own workshop in the Gallery. Then ghouls from all around would come with broken machines and rusted contraptions, and she'd have them all working again in record time. She'd even begin to think she could work on her lifelong dream; building a Mr. Gutsy from scratch, and having it serve as her personal waiter and bodyguard.

But she hadn't counted on the extreme hostility that she'd faced from everyone. Barring Phlegyas, his sister Denise and to a lesser extent, Lazarus and the bartender, the rest of the ghouls were loathe to even look her in the eye. They seemed ashamed to be sharing their home with such a creature as her; she thought of asking her companion why they were so against her when she'd done nothing wrong – barring the bucket incident – but Phlegyas was still intently studying the letters, and she decided that conversation might wait for later.

And as for the Mr. Gutsy; well that relied on her computer-minded friend to program him, and that same friend was dead, _and that isn't the train of thought to be boarding right now, is it Evelyn._

"Where'd you find these?"

Phlegyas voice had distracted her just in time. "Oh... underground. In one of those train-things."

The ghoul raised an eyebrow. "What were you doing in one of them?"

"Long story."

"We've got time."

Evelyn looked at her new friend and bit her lip; this was more dangerous territory. She'd decided earlier not to reveal too much of her own story; knowledge was power, as the Overseer had always said, and she didn't know Phlegyas well enough to trust that he'd use that power responsibly. Besides, she doubted that she would be able to force her way through a telling of her hellish night. Still, she had to tell _someone_, or else she'd be condemned to constantly relive her nightmare alone. And who else could she trust but Phlegyas?

"Does this mean you believe me?" Evelyn finally whispered.

Phlegyas took a long gulp of his beer and shrugged. "Depends how good your story is."

Evelyn sighed, lowered her head, and told him everything.

She told him how she had been born to complications eighteen years ago. How her father had tearfully related to her some years later that her mother gave her body and soul so that Evelyn could live. How he had drank himself to death before Evelyn was eight, and how the Overseer had looked out for the young girl ever since, and how callous that man had been. How she had spent her days locked in her room away from him, fixing all manner of machines and creating such bizarre combinations that defied all sort of logic or convention. She told him of how she'd made a vacuum cleaner hover, how she'd made a Mr. Handy with a see-through shell, how she'd connected a toy car to a spare wheel of the generator and made some form of low-key perpetual motion device. Phlegyas looked confused, but nodded all the same.

Then she'd spoken about how she'd grown up, with the Overseer becoming increasingly abusive. The time that she'd been slapped when she was ten for suggesting that she wanted to be the Overseer one day; the time that he grounded her for a week because Jeeves was speaking three times as fast as was normal, the time that he bruised her arm and twisted her ankle by throwing her back into her bedroom.

The time when, on her twelfth birthday, he did something to her that she was too young to understand.

Phlegyas gritted his teeth, but still Evelyn continued, unabashed; that was a long time ago, she explained, and added that it had just been the one time, and he had been drunk, and she hadn't been forced to go _that_ far. Still, the ghoul's fists clenched and his knuckles showed white.

Then Eddie entered her story, how the two become close after _that _incident, and how they worked on hundreds of little projects together, and how those were the happy days. Like when they managed to fit motors to the food trolleys and race around the halls; when they reprogrammed Jeeves to become a goalkeeper for their Vault team; when they shared that little kiss on New Years three years ago.

Then, the events of the previous night, and at this Evelyn struggled. She explained how she had thrown herself out of bed, how she had found the Overseer dead (at which Phlegyas released a satisfied growl) and how she had luckily made it to Eddie. The information she had found, the mystery of what had happened, and the taking of the young girls.

The hardest part was next. Chokingly, Evelyn explained Eddie's death, and her subsequent flight through the underground, and finally up into the fresh air where, she explained through tear-filled eyes, she had happened upon some arse who had pointed his gun at her.

Phlegyas rewarded her with a sad smile, and motioned he was going to the bar once more. He returned to find Evelyn softly sobbing to herself, and poured her a glass from a bottle of his most recent purchase.

As she wiped away tears, she managed a trembling thanks, before asking whether or not she should, seeing as she couldn't even drink water in this place.

"That's the beauty of vodka," the ghoul said cheerily, pouring a glass for himself. "Tastes the same whether it's glowing or not."

She looked glumly at the glass of clear liquid, before shrugging and downing the shot in one.

Her stomach was awash with fire again, but Evelyn turned the pain to her advantage, focusing her rage and anger on what had happened to her and forcing the tears from her face. Gritting her teeth, she managed another shot, her stomach somersaulting in protest.

"Easy, Evelyn," Phlegyas warned, kindly. "Don't go crazy on that."

The young vault-dweller nodded, her teeth still tightly clamped together as she sucked air between them.

"I'm fine," she managed finally, cuffing away a stray tear.

"Okay," Phlegyas said as way of reply. "So I do sort of believe your story. Couple of questions I've got though."

Evelyn's eyes flared. "Go on," she said defiantly.

"Firstly, if you've got a big station saying "Vault Red" down there in the underground, then surely someone would've found you before now. It wouldn't take those bastards two hundred years to break into a place like that."

Evelyn thought about that for a moment, and grudgingly accepted she didn't know the answer to that. "Okay. I don't know why either. But I swear it's what happened."

Phlegyas held his hands up. "Hey, hey, just trying to understand it myself. Secondly, what the fuck _is _that on your wrist?"

Evelyn blinked, then managed a smile. She'd worn the Pip-Boy for so long, it was a part of her. She lifted the machine onto the table and showed her companion all the finest points of the machine, explaining between random button presses that it was bio-metrically locked and nothing short of a bonesaw could remove it, and that it was made of a super-light titanium alloy and weighed less than a bottle of Nuka-Cola. Phlegyas nodded, not quite sharing the enthusiasm for the machine, but seemingly glad that the woman was more cheerful. He also pointed out that the Pip-Boy had 'Vault-Tec' emblazoned across it; that was enough proof for the ghoul.

After a few minutes of various maps, notes and a quick game of Pong, finally Evelyn sat back and looked squarely at Phlegyas. The ghoul had managed to instantly distract her morose feelings; he seemed to be able to deflect her darkest thoughts and bring her back into the present, and for that, Evelyn was grateful. She smiled, and simply said, "Thank you for taking me in."

Phlegyas offered her a nod. "Better than leaving you out there, I guess." He picked up the wallet. "You know, you could have traded this too; it's worth a few caps."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Here's your caps, by the way. Got you two hundred for that piece of yours." He pushed over a cloth pouch which clinked noisily. The young vault-dweller looked sceptically at the purse; she'd been introduced to the currency when she'd awoken in Denise's surgery, and hadn't quite believed that bottle caps were now used as money. The remark that she'd probably chucked a million caps' worth into the recycling bin over her life didn't seem to go down that well.

Evelyn gingerly reached out for the purse, opening it and counting out a few caps to give to Phlegyas for the drinks, which were quickly waved away. "Don't be stupid, this is on me. Besides, you need 'em more than I do."

Smiling, Evelyn pocketed the pouch and risked another shot of the vodka, much to Phlegyas' amusement. He joined her in an awkward toast, and downed the shot easily.

"So come on then," managed Evelyn between gasps. "You've heard mine; what's your story?"

Phlegyas chased his vodka with a draught of beer. "Well, considering you know fuck all, I'm guessing it'd be a long one."

Evelyn barked out a laugh. "We've got time," she echoed.

So Phlegyas calmly told Evelyn of his own life. How he had been born a smooth-skin-

"You weren't born like that?"

-No, ghouls aren't born, they're made. Ghouls can't have kids. He was born a smooth-skin just a little way away from here, in the Sister building-

"The what?"

-The Sister building, down the river some way. The upper part was ruined, but it had a deep, secure basement where a community flourished; where ancient weapons were still readily available and were kept as clean as possible. The building's underbelly held a treasure trove of technology, with generators that provided warmth in the winter months. Traders stopped at the ruined surface to regularly buy and sell goods, and Phlegyas' first years were comfortable. He quickly learnt a passion for guns; he could disassemble a weapon in the same way that Evelyn could-

"Oh, I don't tend to take apart guns. I mean I _can _and everything, just not really my thing."

-Right, well in the same way Evelyn could if she wanted to. Anyway, Phlegyas grew up a strong and healthy boy, fed and trained well by the community. He soon learned to fire the weapons, and became proficient with all sorts; rifles, handguns, even the more modern laser pistols, although Phlegyas admitted that finding ammunition for such a weapon was tough. By the age of twelve he was as content as someone could be in the fucked-up city in which they found themselves; him and his two younger sisters, his parents and his extended family were never left cold or hungry. Phlegyas had taken the role of a guard by then, greeting the topside traders and overseeing the many transactions with a suspicious eye. He had a few skirmishes with raiders, the usual bunch of arseholes who thought that because they had some guns, they could push others around-

"Ahem."

-But nothing that they couldn't handle. Life was good.

Evelyn waited for the bomb to drop. "So what happened?"

Phlegyas took a deep breath, and related the story of what had happened one morning, when he was fourteen. A group of six traders who'd been coming to the camp for the past year had arrived, trading their usual stash of weaponry. Phlegyas had loved this particular caravan; somehow, they always had something new or unusual to trade, and often the teenager found himself buying some new trinket for his beloved gun. Phlegyas had been eagerly picking through the pack on the Brahmin-

"The what?"

-The pack-animal, when suddenly there was a burst of gunfire and everything changed. The Traders were actually Raiders, smart ones who'd earned the community's trust, and who'd waited for this moment when the guards were distracted. Phlegyas wasn't the only one caught out, but still, it's hard not to blame yourself, you know?

Evelyn stayed silent.

The Raiders quickly infiltrated the community, slaughtering as they went. The community was wiped out in minutes; Phlegyas was luckier though, catching the two men who stayed topside off-guard and downing both with a burst of gunfire. Then he ran into the building to save his family, but was pulled back by Denise and his other sister, Amanda.

"Where'd they come from?"

Phlegyas had been getting to that. His two younger sisters had, fortunately, sneaked out to see the caravan for themselves – they'd rarely get to speak to any traders – and had hidden when the shooting had started. Phlegyas tried to push past them, to get to his parents and his elders, but the gunfire had died down and smoke instead pulsed from the opening. Denise made a plea to her older brother then; a desperate wish for them to leave for safety. Phlegyas had been reluctant, but then the other Raiders had appeared from the entrance, blood-soaked and gloating, and the three siblings had taken flight.

Evelyn listened intently, her mouth agape.

They made to go across the river via the Vauxhall ferry, which, before Evelyn could ask, was simply a crude raft made of tyres roped together. But Phlegyas knew they'd be cut down on the slow-moving vessel, and instead pushed his two screaming sisters into the Thames before leaping in himself. They'd never swam before, but the pumping adrenaline somehow forced them across, with the Raiders' bullets plucking the thick, green water around them. More than once one of them went under, swallowing huge mouthfuls of the rancid liquid, but the three helped each other across and eventually they reached the far bank, exhausted and shivering.

Only the far bank was out of reach. They couldn't lift themselves far enough out of the river to reach the side, and very soon the three found themselves slowly slipping under. It wasn't until Phlegyas, with a final burst of strength, lifted himself out of the river far enough to wrap his ruined weapon around a nearby outcropping, and finally the shattered teenager pulled himself clear. His trailing arm managed to hook one of his sisters – Denise – and the pair landed finally on the dry ground of the far bank. Phlegyas turned to reach Amanda, but she'd been lost beneath the Thames forever.

A tear escaped Evelyn's eyes; she hated sad stories.

Phlegyas didn't blame himself for Amanda's death, but admitted he could have done more; if he'd reached up earlier, maybe all three of them could have made it. But that was the stuff of ifs and maybes, and Phlegyas wasn't that sort of person to dwell on past mistakes.

Evelyn would have spoken up and said she was _exactly_ that sort of person, but decided to stay quiet and let the ghoul finish his story.

Phlegyas went on to tell how the pair stumbled down the North side of the river, following the streets toward Big Ben City. They were both violently ill, vomiting the contents of their stomachs, and their skin burned from the impromptu swim. Still, they made it, and Phlegyas traded his worn rifle for some food and a few nights stay. But after the first night, a fitful nights sleep for both of them, they awoke to find their hair falling out and their skin cracking. It was the radiation of the river, Phlegyas explained, that had irradiated them so badly. Once the others in the city guessed what was happening to them, they were quickly kicked back out onto the streets. With no weapon, no food or shelter, the pair hesitantly decided to make for The Gallery.

"Did you know what was happening to you then?"

Phlegyas had an idea, and knew that the Gallery was a city of ghouls. The pair were terrified of turning into these monsters, of which they'd had very little contact, but still they walked the half a mile from Big Ben City to The Square, where The Gallery was located. There, they tentatively greeted the ghoul guard, who clearly could see what the two teenagers were turning into and warily accepted them in. Phlegyas and Denise had met Lazarus, who had kindly welcomed them in and provided them with food and lodgings until they were able to work for themselves. It took only a week for them to fully 'ghoulify', but brother and sister were never ones to give up, and quickly they learned to adapt and live in this new environment. They'd been living here ever since.

Evelyn was silent for a moment; somewhat amazed that her own story had been topped. She struggled with something to say in the uncomfortable silence – speaking up had always been Eddie's forte, not hers – and finally managed, "So, do you think those same bastards who attacked you are also the ones who attacked me?"

Phlegyas smiled through his cracked lips. No, he doubted that, although this part of the story he'd never relate to Evelyn. Ten years after arriving he'd gotten together a large band, under Lazarus' blessing. They'd followed the trail of the Raiders, finally cornering them in The Oval a little way south of the river. There Phlegyas had taken great delight in skinning them alive, tearing the flesh from their bones, prolonging their lives only so they might feel the delicious agony of their deaths.

Of course, that had been the young and brash Phlegyas, and instead of telling this tale of bitterness and brutal revenge, he simply maintained his serene smile and answered, "I doubt it, love, that was a long time ago now."

"What, like twenty years?"

Phlegyas chuckled. "No, try eighty-five."

Evelyn's jaw dropped. She stared at Phlegyas, who, while his skin was wrinkled and decaying, still had the vague appearance of a man in his thirties. "You're a hundred years old?" She stuttered.

Phlegyas shrugged. "There or there abouts, yeah." He held off his next sentence, enjoying the shocked look on this smooth-skin's face, her eyes barely comprehending what he'd said. Finally he finished, "Us ghouls live a lot longer than you. Not sure of the biology, but I've met one or two who even remember the day the bombs dropped."

Evelyn's face was statuesque; unblinking.

Phlegyas laughed easily; this girl was going to be a lot of fun.

Evelyn's eyes were still wide as she shook her head incredulously, pouring another shot of vodka and downing it more easily this time. She looked back at the ghoul, noticed his mocking smile, and finally joined him in laughter. It felt good to laugh, she decided, and the remaining tension of the day melted off her.

The laughter drifted to silence, and in that pause Evelyn poured both of them another shot of vodka and raised a glass in a toast; the alcohol already loosening her lips.

"To surviving," she said, simply.

Phlegyas gazed at Evelyn, smiled, nodded, and toasted. "_To living."_

_***_

Evelyn woke up with a headache and a dry mouth. She was well-enough versed in the ways of alcohol to register the hangover; gingerly, she hoped it wouldn't last all day. A quick glance at her Pip-Boy told her it had just turned 9am, and Evelyn knew she'd need to leave this place soon. The thought of walking away from this community saddened her; but she knew it had to be done.

_At least my wounds are better, _she thought idly.

She couldn't remember much of what had happened last night, but sections of her memory kept coming back to her as she washed from a sink-full of tepid water. Evelyn and Phlegyas had carried on drinking, her trying the beer and claiming it "not half bad", much to the ghoul's amusement. Then she'd been introduced to the local cuisine; an ancient looking plastic cup with 'Pot Noodle' emblazoned on the side. Phlegyas had said that it was probably the safest thing to eat, although he told Evelyn that with a barely disguised smirk. She'd wolfed the noodles down after pouring some boiled water on them; greedily, she then devoured some form of processed meat that was as hard to chew as leather. Still, it filled her aching, grumbling stomach, and after she'd even managed to try and keep down some more dirty water, a feat which Evelyn celebrated far more than her companion.

After a few more rounds of drinks Evelyn and Phlegyas had developed on their stories; each trying to add one or two more embellishments each time, until they had joked that they ought to write each other's biographies. It had been then that some more ghouls had joined them, either because of the hearty laughter emanating from the table, or because they were good friends of Phlegyas. Evelyn had been shocked into stunned silence by the friendly new arrivals, but was coaxed into telling her story once more, although this time she was quick to change a number of details.

She'd been brought up underground, in a sealed station somewhere to the north-east. Phlegyas came to her aid by quickly adding it had been at Highbury Station, which brought murmurs of approval from the ghouls. Life had been hard, she'd been forced to catch her share of rats to cook on the evening fire, but still she'd grown up healthy and strong. But the faux Evelyn had grown weary of life underground, and escaped from her community and headed for the surface, where everything had been completely different from what she had expected it to be.

That had satisfied the ghouls, who whooped with glee at the outsider's story; they could relate to living on the edge, and urging forth to find some adventure. She'd been introduced to them all then; and listened patiently to all of their own stories, although Evelyn could not remember a single one of them now. She did remember a number of them gently baiting her; all manner of mild insults were hurled at her, most of which she took in good humour as the alcohol had kept flowing. She'd remembered Denise turning up some hours later, and even catching Lazarus' eye – the ghoul having come into the bar some hours before and sitting some distance from the pair – and earning a barely perceptible nod in greeting from the man.

Many more ghouls avoided the table, and many cast a frown at the smooth-skin, but Evelyn didn't mind so much any more. She'd won over a group of them, and she drank and laughed as if she'd been living in the Gallery forever. Then Phlegyas asked her, aside, if she'd consider letting him sell the 'wallet' that she'd picked up from the case on the train; he happened to know a good dealer who'd pay top money for the artefact. Evelyn had drunkenly agreed to sharing the proceeds fifty-fifty.

After that she'd received a few promises from the ghouls around the table; one who promised her a 'more sensible' haircut, which she had politely declined, another offering to patch up her uniform in the morning, of which Evelyn was most grateful and dutifully accepted.

Then there was a blank in her memory, and the only thing Evelyn could remember was drunkenly saying to Phlegyas how much she wished she could stay here. Phlegyas had sobered briefly, and explained to her that as much as she had been welcomed, it wouldn't be right for her to stay; she'd consistently be frowned upon, and other ghouls would outright resent her staying. Besides, it was not his decision to make.

Evelyn had nodded, sadly, and the evening had petered out after that. She'd been led back to Denise's room, where she'd taken a spare mattress on the floor.

Denise didn't seem to be around as the woman washed, but a sudden knock at the door made Evelyn jump.

"Hey kid, you up?" rasped Phlegyas' voice from the hall.

"Yeah," Evelyn managed to hoarsely reply, very aware that she was still only dressed in her underwear. She scrabbled round for her jumpsuit, and panicked briefly when she couldn't find it.

"Relax smoothie, I've got your fancy clothes right here." Phlegyas must have heard Evelyn's desperate search. "Good as new. Well, better than new, actually," he chuckled.

The door opened a crack and his withered hand appeared holding out her red coveralls. She plucked them from his dry digits and quickly closed the door behind the retreating appendage.

"Easy!" said Phlegyas, wary of his fingers. "Let me know how it fits. I'll be waiting out here; don't be long."

"Yeah yeah," Evelyn mumbled, but in truth her attention was already drawn to her jumpsuit. It was still clearly the same red cloth, edged with a white bar that ran down the sleeves and to the waist. But not only had it been fully cleaned and darned, there was now generous strips of thick, dark red leather across many sections. The shoulders sported tough black pads, and there was even an empty holster attached to the uniform. It was beautiful, and Evelyn could not resist a smile.

She tried it on; a perfect fit, as it had been before. The leather pads almost seemed to be natural; they didn't restrict her movement at all.

She was about to go for her meagre belongings when Phlegyas called out again; "Hey love, got your stuff out here too. Denise did a bit of clearing before you got up; don't worry, it's all here."

Evelyn smiled despite her banging head and dry throat. She emerged into the dull light of the hallway and nodded briefly to her ghoul companion while she tied her ruffled hair up behind her head.

"Well well well, the lone ranger finally emerges." Phlegyas held up a backpack and tossed it to the weary Evelyn. "There you go. So you don't have to use your pockets so much. All your caps are in there; stocked you up with a bit of water and food too.

"Thank you," Evelyn managed. "Um, lone ranger?"

"You never heard of that? I dunno," Phlegyas laughed. "I heard it from somewhere."

Evelyn barked out a short laugh as she pulled a bottle of water from her backpack. "I don't know about being a 'ranger'. Maybe a lone wanderer."

Phlegyas frowned but smiled all the same. "C'mon love, we need to get you on your way. How do you like your new threads?"

"Nice. How much do I owe you for all this?"

Phlegyas waved away her question.

The pair reached the hub where they'd entered the previous morning; some ghouls greeted her with a knowing smirk, while others did their best to ignore the interloper. Lazarus was there, still behind the desk of scrap metal and ageing terminals. He looked up as Evelyn and Phlegyas approached, but then went dutifully back to his work.

Evelyn ventured closer to the suited ghoul, ignoring Phlegyas' silent gestures to keep away. Quietly, she started, "Um, Mr. Lazarus?"

The ghoul looked up again and frowned at the interruption.

"I'd just like to say, thanks for letting me stay. That was really decent of you."

Lazarus kept the gaze locked with Evelyn, his expression unreadable as he stared into the young woman's eyes. Finally, he nodded, and mumbled, "Take care of yourself out there, smooth-skin." Evelyn wondered briefly what it would take to make this man smile, but she nodded in thanks all the same and retreated from the desk.

Phlegyas accompanied her down the steps, and the pair found themselves alone in the lobby.

Evelyn sighed, looked sadly at the ghoul, and began to speak. "Listen Phleg, thank you for everything. Really, you've looked after me and helped me out. You sure you don't want any caps?"

"Don't be stupid. Oh, and here. A going-away present." Phlegyas whipped out Evelyn's pistol from his pocked and presented it to her, along with four fresh magazines.

Evelyn stared at the present, her mouth agape. He'd not sold her weapon after all. "Phleg..."

"Before you say anything, I couldn't bring myself to sell it. Can't go leaving a young woman like yourself completely unprotected, can I?"

"But-"

"Don't worry 'bout the caps, I got enough. Besides, without you I'd never have that wallet. I'll get some good money for that."

Evelyn sighed, and took the weapon from his decaying hands. She stared up at the man, seeing the flare in his eyes that stood out against his decaying, puckered skin.

"Listen, Phleg, um... I've never been great at goodbyes... what having grown up in a vault and all-" She picked at her bandage involuntarily as her eyes darted to the floor.

Phlegyas laughed, interrupting her. "Oh fuck off Evelyn. I'm coming with you."

The young woman was again speechless.

"Do you know where you're going?" Phlegyas challenged the staring eyes of the woman.

"Uh-"

"You ever shoot someone from more than a metre away?"

"Um-"

"You used to living outside in the wastes?"

"Well-"

"Listen, I didn't just spend some caps on you just for you to go fuck it up and get killed the moment you step out that door. I'll come with you, show you some stuff along the way. Besides, Big Ben City is where that artefact dealer is."

Evelyn grinned from ear to ear and desperately resisted the urge to throw her arms around the man and hug him; he was her knight in shining armour, the true gent, her prince charming.

"Come on, fucktard," Phlegyas snapped, reaching for the door. "Stop hanging around grinning like a prize donkey."

_Well, not quite a Prince Charming._

Evelyn followed the ghoul out of the door and into the morning Sun.

**END OF CHAPTER FOUR**

_Author's note: I'm aware this chapter's been a bit delayed; I'm already working on Chapter five, please bear with me and I'll try and get it out as soon as possible. Please continue to review; I welcome any comments._


	6. Chapter Five: Harsh Climate

_Author's notes: Well it's been a while. What with moving house, a new computer and umpteen dilemmas in both mine and my friends' lives, Evelyn and Phlegyas have taken something of a hiatus. But, after replaying through Fallout 3 (and taking a trip or two to London), I've rekindled my passion for this Universe. Bah, you don't need to hear my excuses. Here we go with Chapter 5._

**CHAPTER FIVE – Harsh Climate**

Phlegyas watched the young woman stumble through the doorway into the outside world, wary of how quickly she shielded her eyes from the dull Sun that barely broke through the grey cloud. The woman – _hell, she's barely out of childhood – _seemed oblivious to all else but the towering sky before her. The ghoul clucked lightly; Big Ben City wasn't a long walk by any means, but it was fraught with danger morning, noon and night.

He was used to going alone to Big Ben City – that wasn't a concern for him. What worried him was that Evelyn was going to be worse than useless as a partner on the road. She didn't seem bothered to inspect her weapon, and only loaded the pistol after his stern warning. She didn't take the time to adjust her straps, secure her boots, scan the side streets for trouble. She was a liability, and Phlegyas was nervous that the girl might get him killed.

_Perfect. 80 years of putting my rotting arse on the line to get it blown off in ten seconds for some damn baby smooth-skin._

But a promise was a promise, and as much Phlegyas regretted the pledge he'd made mere minutes ago, he'd see it through to the end. Besides, Big Ben City wasn't far, it was morning - when most of the true nasties were asleep or underground – and he'd make an absolute _mint_ selling that wallet.

What Phlegyas hadn't told Evelyn was how much the artefact was actually worth. The pre-war money would sell for a pretty penny alone, and the leather-bound wallet with the worthless indented pieces of plastic would be lapped up by that dick of a curator over in Big Ben City. Plus, when he showed off those letters from the mythical Vault-Tec... well, he'd be able to name his price. That'd make this little escort mission more than worth his while.

Phlegyas justified his mild deception with the knowledge that he'd helped out this kid more than anyone else would have done in this fucked-up part of town. She could have run into some more radiers, and found herself headless with a meathook through her chest. Or slavers, and found herself wearing a metal collar rigged to explode while jacking off some fat, sweaty bloke with more gold chains than teeth.

Hell, if it had been Abel guarding the front rather than his own charming self, she'd have most likely been mugged, raped and killed, and possibly not in that order.

Instead, the lucky girl found herself with enough supplies and caps to make it at least through the day, and her own Ghoul guardian to boot. And considering this young lady knew fuck all about the wasteland, she was very lucky indeed.

"You're fucking lucky, you know that?" Phlegyas confirmed.

Evelyn didn't reply right away – she was marvelling at how the light breeze tickled through her skin, and at the sharpness of the colours, and at the vastness of the sky above her. Yesterday's madness had taken a back seat amidst such wonder. And then there was the giddy excitement that she could go _anywhere._ She wasn't forced down this corridor or that, she didn't have to listen to that damn 'Red Radio' everywhere she went. She was free.

"Mmm?" She mumbled, gazing at the beautiful ebony lion statues as they glistened in the morning Sun.

"You. Lucky."

"Mmm," she managed.

Phlegyas' fists tightened. She might not care now, but when she was being chased down by a Super Mutant, or had some switchblade in her stomach, she'd be _screaming _for his help.

The Ghoul sighed, pushing such bitter thoughts from his mind. _It's not far to walk, it's not far to walk…_

Evelyn, meanwhile, was wishing the walk would continue forever. The feeling of stone beneath her feet was unnerving, but she was amazed at the difference in sound her footsteps made. To prove it to herself, she did a little tap dance on the flagstones, stopping only when Phleg shot her another warning glance.

What was his problem, anyway? She didn't ask him to come along. Evelyn was grateful for all his help, but did she want some grumpy ghoul ruining her good mood? She deserved this feeling of freedom that she'd fought for last night, and she'd be damned if she was going to let some half-dead zombie make her feel bad for surviving. Hell, she felt bad enough that Eddie wasn't here with her, but then there was nothing she could do about that now, was there?

It was then that Evelyn realised she'd walked the last few paces by herself. She turned and found the ghoul throwing a quick salute to the downed statue of the man, the hollow eyes and broken body staring back at Phlegyas.

"Mornin' Harry," he said, gruffly, before snapping his arm back down and catching up with Evelyn.

"What was that about?" Evelyn asked, perhaps a little too noisily. "Who was that?"

"That," replied Phlegyas in an even, low tone, "was our boy Horatio Nelson. He looks after us ghouls."

"What, you made that statue?"

"Don't be so stupid," the ghoul snapped back. "He's pre-war. Far as we can tell, he was some great English captain who flew around in some massive wooden ship."

"He _flew?_" said Evelyn, incredulously.

"Yeah. And he took part in some big battle. Killed loads of Frenchies." He grinned, mischievously.

"Uh huh," Evelyn said, clearly not convinced. "What are 'Frenchies?'"

Phlegyas snorted, but didn't reply – he wasn't about to admit that he didn't know.

The pair continued on in silence – _blessed silence!, _thought Phlegyas. Either the smoothskin had finally learnt to keep her trap shut, or she'd run out of things to say. Whatever the reason, the ghoul was grateful for the reprieve as they walked down the ruined street toward their goal, ignoring the smoothskin who all but skipped down the road behind him.

Evelyn was enjoying her sightseeing tour. She marvelled at the chaos and destruction around her, how it had been left like this for two centuries. The buildings had been torn into pieces. Some still stood, albeit as mere skeletons to what they had been, while others had collapsed entirely, creating a mound of rubble filled with the rusting and rotting debris of its insides. Desks and chairs were strewn across the street. Bones were bleached a dazzling white and scattered across the pavement and streets. Cars sat by the roadside, rusting and abandoned.

Had she been in the Vault, even a wobbly chair would have been corrected by Jeeves, the Mr. Handy, under direct orders of the domineering Overseer. Her thoughts drifted back to the image of his corpse - his bruises, his broken bones. He was gone now. Still, she could not feel any sorrow for the man. She quickly diverted her mind from that thought, knowing that the image of the corpse would turn into Eddie if she was not careful.

It was about half way down the street that Phlegyas suddenly raised a gloved hand and stopped dead in his tracks. Evelyn, her gaze on the nearby collapsed building, walked straight into him.

"Sorry," she whispered.

Phlegyas shot her another harsh look, but said nothing. Silently, he removed his gun – that thunderstick that Evelyn had already learnt to fear – from his shoulder and jabbed it toward a crossing on the left. The young woman was confused; they were hugging the left hand side of the street, and so she couldn't see anything that was hidden around the corner. She was about to say as much when the ghoul clamped his leather-clad hand over her mouth, shushing the woman with silent, pursed lips and a cold warning glance.

Evelyn nodded, her light demeanour vanishing in an instant. She trembled lightly and crouched, her shaking hand reaching for her pistol. Phlegyas shot another glance back to her and nodded approval, but raised another finger to his lips.

_Yeah yeah ghoulie, I know, keep my fucking mouth shut. _Evelyn was determined that she'd not be shown up again after her escape. After all, she'd made it through all that, so she was tough. She was a survivor.

But what if it was these guys, back again to take more young girls back to their lair? The ghoul seemed to know what he was doing, but could he take on ten or more of these huge men, with their massive shoulders and arms that could tear her in two? And what would become of her if she was captured? The men wouldn't be particularly happy to see her. They'd think up special ways to hurt her. Evelyn shivered; she'd make sure she saved a round in the chamber for herself if it came to that.

But then, how many rounds were in the chamber in the first place? How could she keep count, did she just remember each shot she fired? And where was the best place to aim? The head was an attractive target, but it was small compared to their barrel chests. But what about that thick armour? Would the bullets penetrate that?

A thousand questions suddenly swirled in her head, questions she should have asked Phlegyas before they got into this situation, and she cursed herself silently. That had been the reason the Vault had been taken and everyone but her had been killed or taken: ignorance.

A sudden blast from the gun threw Evelyn's world out of her reverie and back into the present, her focus returning just in time to see a four-legged creature disintegrate not ten yards away. There was another; no, maybe two, or three, a blur of snarling teeth and fur, that leapt from the side street and turned quickly on the pair.

Phlegyas fired again, catching a leaping beast square in the chest. It folded in two, its spine broken by the blast. Evelyn's ears rang with the sound, her mind was dazed with the shock, but still she brought up her pistol – so heavy in her hands! – and squeezed off a shot at the moving shapes that streaked toward them.

She heard Phlegyas yell something but it was lost in the sound of gunfire. The great gun fired again, catching another beast in the head, its cranium exploding in a shower of crimson fragments, and then Evelyn felt a blow against her chest and she was roughly forced to the pavement. Her hold on her gun slipped and she watched with horror as the pistol cart-wheeled through the air, landing some yards behind her, out of sight.

It had all happened so quickly that Evelyn's shocked brain couldn't make sense of what had struck her. She fought instinctively against the force that was crushed against her chest, slapping and smacking it in a blind panic. Then the body rolled off her, and she immediately scrambled backwards on her behind.

She suddenly realised it was Phlegyas who had fallen on her, the ghoul now engaged in a desperate struggle with the remaining beast, a snarling, ferocious dog with fangs that looked like they could cut through metal.

Evelyn shouted "Look out!" and was certain that Phlegyas managed to grumble a derogatory reply - probably about the lateness of her warning - but his voice was drowned out against the beast's snarl. Phlegyas had the beast by its jaws, stopping the deadly teeth from sinking into his mottled, grey flesh, but still the huge canine looked to be overpowering the ghoul, its cold eyes locked onto its prey.

Evelyn jumped to her feet and looked around desperately for her pistol. She found it laying not ten feet away, so she ran quickly over to the weapon and raised it at the beast. Aiming carefully, she pulled the trigger

At first, nothing happened; the recoil ran down Evelyn's arms, the gunshot echoed down the street, and still the dog snarled and snapped, but then suddenly it went rigid, let out a low, piercing whimper, and slumped to Phlegyas' side. The ghoul unceremoniously kicked the creature off him and got to his feet.

"Ha!" Evelyn said, holstering her pistol with a trembling hand. Adrenaline surged through the vault-dweller. "That's right! What do you think of _that_, beastie?" Evelyn cackled. She'd not only proved she could shoot straight, but she'd just saved the ghoul's life.

"Oh quit your yapping," Phlegyas shot back, rolling the dog's corpse over with his foot. "Your shot missed him by miles." A knife was imbedded in the creature's neck. Phlegyas had obviously dealt with the problem himself; she'd not done anything to help.

_Shit._ Deflated, she asked, "How did I miss?"

Phlegyas shrugged. "Beats me. Maybe because you're shit?" He smirked as he pulled the knife out of the dog's throat. "If it's any consolation, thank you for not shooting me."

"But… I aimed… I fired…"

Phlegyas was checking that the other dogs were indeed dead, pushing his wicked blade deep into their throats. "Yeah, well." He was breathing hard from the exertion. "Don't take it too hard. You've not used a gun much before." _How _did _she miss from there?_

Evelyn couldn't believe she'd missed. "Did my first shot hit the mark?"

Phlegyas shook his head. He'd reached the last dog and had cut its throat, before bringing the knife to its stomach and slicing deep.

Any further comment about her marksmanship died on her lips. "Urgh! What the fuck are you doing?"

Phlegyas didn't look up, didn't stop. He sawed the knife efficiently through the dog's stomach, cutting off the meat from the entrails inside. His hands dripped with blood. "I'm preparing your majesty's lunch," he said, matter-of-factly.

Evelyn was almost sick. "You're gonna eat that?"

"Not just me, us. And why not? Couple of pellets in it, but you cook that over a fire for ten minutes and it's mmm mmm good."

Evelyn stared in horror. She'd never contemplated where her tinned food had been processed from, but as far as she was aware it was grown in the vault; slabs of meat that had never really lived. But this was an animal, a wild animal that had almost eaten them both. This thing had drooled, pooped and probably wallowed in radioactive filth for all of its life, and then it'd been shot to ribbons. And that was what passed as lunch?

Phlegyas had looked up at the woman then, catching the look of pure disgust in her eyes. "Look, smoothie, it's not as easy to live out here as it is – _was, _was in your Vault. A lot of the time out here you go to the cupboard but the cupboard is bare, if you know what I mean. You do what you need to survive. Now this might not be all nicely tinned up, it might be as tough as old boots, but it gives you enough energy to tear the head right off a fucking Supermutant if you need to, and it doesn't taste half bad." The ghoul moved onto the next slain beast, his knife dripping with blood. "And it's free too," he added, in a lighter tone. "Winnie's Bar is a rip-off, even if it is clean."

Evelyn stared at the ghoul as he methodically tore apart meat from the dog's corpse. She was shaken, uncertain. Phlegyas' words rang through her head, his insistence on using her life in the Vault as past tense a final nail in the coffin to her previous, comfortable life.

She took her eyes of the butchery and stared at her still-smoking pistol, sitting vainly in its holster. It had the power to kill, to keep her safe, but she didn't know how to use it. She didn't understand anything of how it worked, how to make the rounds hit home. She was useless out here; the ghoul had dispatched four killers in the time it took her to squeeze off two wild shots.

_So my escape was pure luck after all._ Deep down that was something Evelyn already knew. She may be a survivor, but that's only because of God-damned luck.

She sighed, biting her lip. _I need help._ Fuck, she hated admitting that.

She waited until the ghoul had neatly removed the meat from the beasts before silently walking over to his side. "Um, Phleg," she started, looking at the floor. The ghoul mumbled a reply. "Phleg, can you teach me how to shoot straight?"

The ghoul was packing up the meat, wrapping it in a blood-stained cloth before squeezing it into his bag. He didn't look up, not at first, but a smile wrapped around his grey lips. _Thank God. _At least this had been a little wake-up call for the smoothskin, a warning about the perils of the wasteland, rather than an abrupt ending of her life in the jaws of some feral dogs.

_Of course I can teach you. I've been in this city for a century. I've killed more people than you've had hot dinners. I've fired more weapons than you even know exist. I've gone places that you can't even dream of. I can teach you more than just how to fire that pea-shooter in your hand, I can teach you how to survive. Yes, smoothie, I can teach you, you arrogant little bitch, as long as you God-damn listen to me. _

"Sure," he said, simply. "I can teach you a lot of stuff."

"Thanks," Evelyn mumbled, not meeting his gaze.

"Okay, first rule. You do what you need to survive." He motioned toward the bleeding, gutted carcasses. "Kill or be killed. They were going to eat us, so instead we eat them."

Evelyn nodded, sadly, feeling a little of herself die inside.

"And you can drop that pouting, little girl look. That won't work against these beasts. It won't stop a raider from tearing out your bowels, or a Supermutant from chopping you in two. That sort of look only works with some simpering, doe-eyed sap."

A little of the fire returned to Evelyn's heart, and she locked her eyes onto his. "You mean, like you are?"

"Don't get all pissy," Phlegyas snapped back, his temper flaring. "I didn't have to help you out and I don't have to now. I helped you because there's some of us in this fucked up world that still keep a little of our humanity. I felt sorry for you, sure, but don't think that for a _second_ that I wouldn't have blown your head clean off if I thought you were any sort of threat to me. I took you in because you were – you _are_ – some naïve little girl whose only contribution to this world will most likely be to decorate the pavement with you brains, or get fucked up the arse by some drooling warlord."

Evelyn's eyes raged with fire. "How dare-"

"Shut up!" Phlegyas shouted back, cutting off any pithy remark she might have come at him with.

"I've looked after myself for a century," he continued in a quieter tone. "If you don't need my help, then fine, don't take it."

Evelyn ground her teeth together and promptly turned away before the hot rush of salty tears ran down her cheeks. She refused to sob loudly. She refused to ask him to go easy on her. What he had said was right, and it cut through her like ice. She was useless around here, and she'd have been dead five times over by now if he hadn't have helped her. This fact did little to ease her humiliation.

Keeping her face turned away, Evelyn crouched and took her backpack from her shoulders, snatching a bottle of water from the bag and holding it to her lips with shaking hands.

Phlegyas looked at the back of the girl's head as she sipped from the bottle of water, noticing the flush of red that appeared on her neck. He'd hit a nerve with that one, that much was clear. But it had to have been said. He didn't want this young woman to end up tied to a table while a gang of raiders took turns over her naked, trembling form, her smooth flesh covered in cuts and bruises, her long, shapely legs tied down-

_Woah, Phlegyas. No need for that sort of thinking. Get a hold of yourself._

The ghoul sighed, and promised himself a cold shower once they hit the City. He quietly shouldered his backpack and peeked around the corner, making certain there were no more surprises. No need to be quiet now; the gunshots would have woken up half the area, but it was likely they'd not be attacked again. The sound of two different guns firing tended to keep nasties away from the fight rather than draw them in. Besides, he could see the clearing ahead, the small expanse of brown that marked the entrance to the City.

Evelyn replaced the water silently into her bag, cuffing away a stray tear. She turned back to face the ghoul, only to see him disappear around the corner.

Fine. So he could just walk away and leave her on her own. Some Prince Charming. She'd have been better on her own, better to-

"Hey," the ghoul rasped at her, his head poking back from round the corner. "Come take a look."

_Hmph._

Evelyn rounded the corner and saw Phlegyas kneeling over the corpse of a man. At first she thought this was another of his kills, but as she neared the ghoul she realised that this poor fellow had been attacked by the pack of dogs. His hands and feet were bare, covered in bite marks, while some of his toes and fingers looked like they had been bitten off. Evelyn prayed silently that that had occurred after his death.

"Who's this?" Evelyn managed, still choking on her words slightly.

"Beats me," the ghoul returned, but with no hint of malice. "Just some poor sucker who got caught out." He looked back up at Evelyn and met her with an even gaze. "Look, what I'm about to do… well, you're probably not going to like it."

Evelyn's eyes widened. "You're not going to… carve him up?"

Phlegyas snorted, his raspy laugh echoing down the street. "Don't be stupid. I'm not really into the whole human flesh thing." He cocked an eyebrow at the young girl. "Well, not into _eating_ it, anyway." He flashed her a toothy grin.

There was an awkward silence as Evelyn pondered that.

"Ahem, anyway, I'm just taking his stuff. See if he has anything good."

Evelyn took that thought in, her mouth open. What worried her most was that she wasn't shocked by that revelation. She understood. This man was dead. What he owned, he didn't need anymore, and if he had food, or stimpaks, or _anything_ that would help them, then surely there was nothing wrong in taking it.

"Whatever you need to do to survive," Evelyn echoed, quietly.

Phlegyas shot her another hard look. "Hey, listen, if I don't take this stuff then-"

"No, no", Evelyn said, forcing back more tears. She didn't want – she couldn't handle – another argument. "I understand. Really."

The ghoul met her gaze, and his yellow eyes softened. He nodded, slowly, before gently rolling over the corpse, sliding his backpack off carefully.

Evelyn stumbled over to the side of the street and rested her trembling body against the side of its charred façade. She let herself slide down the wall onto her backside. This was the taste of her life now, she understood. Do what you need to survive. Kill or be killed. Take what you can get. She was bitter about her loss, about how she'd taken the Vault's comforts for granted, but in some small part, hadn't she wished for this? Hadn't she wanted this freedom from her oppressive life? Wasn't this better than having your whole life dictated to you? Somehow, Evelyn couldn't work out which was best.

"So," she managed after a while. "Can you eat human flesh? I mean, if you needed to?"

Phlegyas didn't look up as he rifled through the backpack, pocketing the various items that seemed useful. "Well, sure, I guess. I've never done it, but I know a few friends who have. But if I were starving, and there was a dead body around, then yeah, I guess you could eat it."

Evelyn nodded, sadly.

"Apparently it's not good meat though," he continued on in a conversational tone. "It tastes kinda stringy, and you can pick up some nasty stuff if you eat the wrong guy."

The girl felt sick to her stomach. Phlegyas shot another look at Evelyn and realised this was making her uncomfortable. "As I say," he continued, "I've never had to do it myself, and I've been around for a while."

Evelyn looked up from the floor at the ghoul. "Could you eat a ghoul? You know, if you had to."

Phlegyas smiled. "Well sure, you could eat anything, a car, a brick, a fucking Pot Noodle if you had to."

Seeing his joke was lost on the girl, he continued on. "But no, you shouldn't. Me, I'm against eating human flesh, I think there's something… I dunno, wrong with that. But a ghoul, well, you eat one, and you'll most likely become one yourself."

Evelyn sniffed, holding away her tears. _Get it together. _"Why's that?"

"I dunno," Phelgyas continued, moving onto the man's pockets. "We're so chock full of radiation that it's not a good idea. It's what causes all this." He gestured toward his grey, wrinkled skin. "We ghouls can take a bath in radioactive waste, so it's not a good idea to eat something that tainted."

Evelyn nodded, and opened her mouth to say something more, but refrained.

"Go on."

"What?"

"Say what you were going to say," rasped the ghoul.

"I-"

"Please, I've taken years of abuse for being this way. You're not going to offend me. Hell, you're supposed to be learning, so say what you were going to say."

Evelyn hesitated.

"C'mon. Grow some balls." The ghoul flashed a warm smile.

The girl grinned despite herself, and took a deep breath. "Alright. If you ghouls are so full of radiation, is it safe to be around you?"

Phlegyas chuckled at that. "Well, it's _never _safe to be around us," he joked, "but if you mean are you going to grow a tumour from hanging around us, then don't worry, you're safe."

"I didn't mean to be disrespectful," Evelyn began.

"I know, I know, don't worry. Look, as far as I know, we store the radiation in our cells, or some such shit. We don't give off radiation. Hell, I know a few smoothskins who've got with some of my mates, and those smoothies didn't have their dicks fall off or anything like that."

Evelyn looked on, horrified. "Humans _sleep _with you?" She immediately regretted saying it like that.

The ghoul's smile died, and he returned his attention to the cadaver. "Sometimes," he said, quietly.

There was another awkward silence. Evelyn wished she could take that sentence back; ask it with a little more tact, a little less disgust. She opened her mouth to apologise, but she realised that'd be another hollow gesture on her part, so she stayed silent.

That had been unfair, she decided. This was a ghoul – a person - who'd done so much for her already, and here she was fucking things up by commenting on how he looked. It wasn't his fault he was this way. In fact, if he'd not become a ghoul, then the two would have never met, and where would that have left her? Probably filling the bellies of that pack of dogs.

Phlegyas finished his search and rose to his feet. He shot another look at Evelyn, and couldn't help a tinge of sadness. So, this girl was like all the rest. She took one look at him and saw all decayed flesh and bone. Somehow, he shouldn't have been surprised.

_Oh for fuck's sake, get over yourself. She's some pretty, young smoothskin and you look like you've been dead for a year. What did you expect? She needs you as her teacher right now, and besides, she's _not_ like all the rest. She's talking to you as if you were almost human._ Somehow, that made things better. Evelyn might see the decayed flesh, but she also saw the good in him – otherwise, this naïve girl wouldn't be sitting in a street, asking his advice.

"Come on then, Evelyn," the ghoul said, offering her a hand. The girl took it, and Phlegyas pulled her gently to her feet. "Let's get on to the City."

Big Ben City was only a few minutes walk down the street, and they reached it without further incident. Phelgyas had shown her a few of the items he'd taken from the man, including another (half-empty) magazine for her gun, which she quickly pocketed. The ghoul explained to the girl the necessity of keeping full magazines whenever possible, and promised to show her how to load a magazine alongside giving her a few pointers for aiming. But that could wait; first, he wanted to show her around the City, teach her the correct price for a few things so she wouldn't get ripped off, and warn her about some less-than-savoury characters. Then, when she was occupied elsewhere, he'd sneak off and sell his artefacts.

They walked into the plaza in front of the City slowly, as Phlegyas instructed. He calmly told the girl not to make any sudden movements, not to run, not to point, certainly not to take her gun out. Evelyn snapped him a withering look – she wasn't _that_ stupid.

"There's a sniper up there," Phlegyas motioned with his head.

Evelyn followed her gaze and suddenly realised what she was looking at. A large, dirty brown square column rose around 200 feet in the air, its façade torn through to the point where scraps of sky behind it were visible. The skeletal frames were still visible even if parts of the front were not, supporting the upper half of the structure, which almost looked bitten off such was the decay around its peak. The top part was clearly open to the sky, and Evelyn could see at least a couple of people between the jagged frames. Below this top platform - which was floored with wooden planks - the column had an almost semi-circular gap, a number of metres wide. This gap was mirrored on the other side of the face that Evelyn could see.

It was recognisable if she looked hard enough. The pointed spire may be gone, and the clock face shattered, but this was Big Ben.

Big Ben had always been a symbol for London. Whenever she had watched the old historical tapes, it had always been shown first, watching over the Thames like a silent guardian. Now, it was a shattered wreck, a structure torn in two. It looked a sorry sight.

Connected to this mangled monstrosity was a large building which stretched away from them. Parts were collapsed, other parts exposed to the outside air. Sandbags and dragon's teeth covered the street in front, where several more humans milled around the only obvious entrance. Phlegyas and Evelyn headed toward the crowd, none of whom seemed to give them a second glance.

Phlegyas whispered, "Hey, whatever happens, just go with it, okay? Follow my lead."

"Morning Phleg," a man called, dressed in a dirty khaki jumpsuit. He was armed with some vicious looked rifle that was strapped to his back. "Bit early in the month for you to visit, isn't it? Or did you run out of Jet early?"

"Fuck off Dazza," Phlegyas said, although without spite. "Nah, find some juicy stuff to sell to ol' Whiskers. He around?"

The guard shrugged. "Probably. Haven't seem him leave in a few weeks."

"Bah, he's still pissed about that disaster at the Tate?"

"Yeah," Dazza laughed. "That was a right royal clusterfuck. Hey, who's the girl?"

Phlegyas turned, his story concocted in his head, only to find that Evelyn had stopped a few paces away and was staring at wonder into the eyes of a Brahmin. He swore silently, then figured that if anything, her antics would probably help sell this story.

Evelyn had never seen anything like it. A two-headed cow? It couldn't be alive, but it was. Evelyn wondered how the beast could make any decisions. Did one head think to turn left, and the other right? Did they talk to each other? When one head lowed, did the other follow suit?

"Hey hey missy, step away unless you're buyin'." A burly guard, dressed in a thick, dark green armour came between her and the cow, gently brushing her away with the side of his rifle. She stumbled, her eyes still gazing at the strange creature, before she managed to tear her eyes away and just catch the last part of the conversation with Phlegyas.

The ghoul was whispering something to his friend, and said something at which they both shot a glance toward her. Suddenly the human howled with laughter, and raised his hand high in the air. Phlegyas rasped a deep throaty chuckle and slapped the outstretched hand.

"You _dog!_" Was all that she heard the man say as she approached, before he suddenly stiffened and offered her a lazy salute. "Morning ma'am. Nice weather we're havin', isn't it!"

Evelyn frowned, but joined Phlegyas at his side after he beckoned her over, and together they walked past the guards and toward the doors to the inside. Phlegyas looped his arm inside Evelyn's, shooting a quick smile and a wink back at his friend.

"You going to tell me what the fuck you just said?"

"Oh nothing," the ghoul replied, barely stifling a giggle. "Just filling in your backstory to my mate Dazza over there."

"Which was…" Evelyn knew she didn't want to know the answer to that one.

"Nothing bad!.." He unlocked his arm from around hers and went for the door, holding it open for her. "…Just that you're some ex-Tuber slave who I bought."

"What?" She hissed, as quietly as her building anger would allow. "Why the fuck did you tell him that?"

"Well," Phlegyas began, his grin as wide as it could be, "For one, because it's a useful story to explain away your wide-eyed amazement at everything."

Evelyn ground her teeth as she entered the cool building. "And…?"

"Well, c'mon," Phlegyas laughed. "If my mates around here think I'm fucking you, I'll never have to buy a drink in the bar again!"

Though he wore padded armour on his arms, the punch still left a nasty bruise.

**END OF CHAPTER FIVE**


	7. Chapter Six: Stick a knife in mine

_Author's notes: How many times am I going to say 'it's been a while'? Well I've had this saved on my trusty USB stick for months, reading it several times over but never actually adding much to the story. I've finally gone ahead and finished this chapter, so we can get on with the next one! As always, I'll add my usual promise that I will __**try **__and get a new chapter done as soon as I can._

_Please, keep reading and enjoy. I welcome any comments (good or bad :-D), especially about the end of this chapter. Thank you for all your kind reviews thus far._

_Also, I do apologise for the funny formatting - I'm still getting used to this new format._

**CHAPTER SIX – Stick a knife in mine**

The large hall that Evelyn found herself in towered above her head, lit more from the gaps in the ceiling and the walls than from the conventional lighting that was strung haphazardly across the room. Statues of men dotted the room, some crumbling, others seemingly preserved. All watched the chaos that unfolded in front of them with disinterest.

Corrugated iron, wood and all sorts of scrap metal were cobbled together to make several makeshift barriers that lined up side by side and stretched down the hall. Men and women – so many of them! – were jostling for space in the crowded open area, garbed in an array of clothing. Some wore thick, green armour that barely showed their eyes to the world, while some others went bare-chested with only a strap running over their shoulders to hold their sheathed weaponry. Still others wore clothes that Evelyn could only think were from before the war; petticoats, grey suits and charred bowler hats that looked horribly out of place in such a grimy location.

The cacophony of noise was incredible. Evelyn could understand that the barriers made stalls, a marketplace of such popularity it seemed that half of London was here. Vendors were shouting their wares to the crowd, pulling them in, displaying all sorts of alien items. Buyers were queued up around the corner in some places, while in others heated exchanges barely registered above the din.

It was mayhem, and Evelyn was immediately glad she had Phlegyas next to her.

"Hey," she shouted, above the racket. "I thought you said you weren't welcome here?"

Phlegyas was scanning the crowd quietly. "Ah, that was eighty years ago. Lot has changed since then." He bit his withered lip. "Still, ghouls aren't really allowed to live here."

Evelyn looked at the slight sadness in Phlegyas' eyes. It was clear that this man understood his place in society, even if he was not happy with it.

"Listen," he continued, loudly. "Don't speak to anyone without me first giving the say-so. There's a lot of arseholes around here." Phlegyas considered saying more – that if she spoke to the wrong person or said the wrong thing, she'd either wind up dead or in a slave pen – but he decided against it. As long as the smoothskin listened to him, and didn't do anything stupid, she'd make it out okay. Probably.

The ghoul led Evelyn into the heart of the crowd, shouting a warning to wear her backpack on the front and check her pockets. Phlegyas kept his bag on his back – people simply wouldn't dare steal from the towering ghoul.

They pushed through some punters, earning some wicked glances from some of the less savoury-looking characters, before arriving at a particularly busy stall. Guns hung from the wooden walls, and a ruined cabinet displayed all sorts of ammunition.

"This here is Mag's gun shop," Phlegyas explained, his raspy voice still booming above the din. "She's got more balls than me, so watch your step!"

Evelyn was about to ask whether Phlegyas did in fact have any balls when a tall woman pushed through a line of buyers to accost them. She was dressed in stained white overalls with a green apron hanging from her neck, but Evelyn's eyes were drawn to her hair – an explosion of red, devoid of any style, its length drooping far down the woman's back.

"Motherfucker," she greeted Phlegyas warmly. "What's up? Who's this lovely lady?"

Phlegyas had this worked out. "She's some bird from the Tubes," Phlegyas said, jerking his thumb toward Evelyn. "She came topside just the other day, never seen this place before."

"Well shit," the woman replied, whom Evelyn guessed must be Mag. "Guess this is a little bit diff'rent than underground, 'ey!"

That same accent, wherever Evelyn went. Did the wasteland not understand how to speak?

"Yeah, a little," the vault-dweller admitted.

"Bah, you'll be alright." She slapped Evelyn hard on the arm. "So, shit-for-brains, what she doing hanging around you?"

Phlegyas beckoned her closer and whispered into Mag's ear. Evelyn couldn't make out much more than the words, "…more caps than sense…", and threw an insulted look at her ghoul guardian before realising this was all part of the act. Telling a shopkeeper that you had money to burn almost guaranteed their favour, even if it wasn't the smartest move.

"So I'm guessin' you're doin' all the buyin'," Mag said with a knowing wink toward Phlegyas.

"Damn straight!"

"Oh well…" Mag leaned in close toward Evelyn, but kept her voice loud. "Look out for this one, yeah? He's a dodgy motherfucker." The cackle that followed suggested to Evelyn that she shouldn't take that remark seriously.

Mag beckoned the pair into the shop, ignoring several buyers who clamoured for her attention. Mag seemed to have a number of people working for her, but even then more punters replaced those who left and the small shop seemed overrun.

"Business is good," Phlegyas commented, once they had sat down on a burnt sofa that looked to be stained with blood.

"Yup," Mag replied proudly, before producing a sealed metal container with the words 'FLEG' etched on the side. "The usual?"

The ghoul smiled. "Why not."

The container was opened and Evelyn watched as Phlegyas carefully pulled out the contents; several round, metal items. They looked almost like miniature wheels.

"I'll take four," Phlegyas said, chucking the money unceremoniously on the rickety table in front of them. "That's twenty caps." He looked pointedly at Evelyn, who suddenly realised that the tally was for her benefit. She was supposed to be learning the value of these things – if only she knew what it was he was buying.

"Very good sir," Mag said drily, offering a bow before scooping the caps up in one hand. "Will there be anything else?"

"Yeah, see if you can't find Evelyn here a nice gun. Something with a bit more kick."

Mag nodded. "I think I may have something for her," she said, glancing down at Evelyn's holstered pistol.

While the woman disappeared, Evelyn asked the ghoul what was wrong with her own weapon.

"Nothing wrong with it really, love," the ghoul replied, "but you need something with a bit more… bite to it. It's good to have a couple of weapons on you."

"But… I've only got, what, two hun-"

Phlegyas moved to silence her. "Ssh," he said softly. "Don't matter. A good gun is an investment. Besides, it'll be cheaper than that."

Mag returned with a long rifle, brandishing it in front of Evelyn. There was an awkward silence before the young girl realised that she was supposed to take it. Gingerly, she lifted the weapon in her hands, marvelling at how light it felt; for such a large gun, it seemed to weigh little more than her pistol.

It was a nice looking weapon. A metal barrel extended long past the wooden stock and reinforced butt, while the top part, with its loading mechanism, was polished to a shine. Evelyn guessed that all the guns here were polished to make them look more appealing.

There was another awkward silence as Evelyn clumsily shuffled the rifle in her hands. She accidentally pointed the rifle right between her eyes as she inspected it, earning a frown from the shopkeeper and an exasperated look from her ghoul companion.

_Fuck sake, Evelyn! Get a hold of yourself!_ She thought, grimly. This was her life now, and while she might not have fired a weapon much in her life, she _did_ know a thing or two. She mentally scolded herself for being so clumsy in front of others.

She remembered the time when she was thirteen, when she'd found useless parts of several guns strewn across the storeroom. They were about to be melted down and used for scrap, but instead the resourceful young girl had begged and pleaded, and finally been allowed to get her hands on them. Following the design schematics, she managed to clean, oil and construct three new pistols from the remains of eight old ones. She still remembered the face of Security Chief Manson when she proudly showed her wares to him.

So what if they were pistols, and not this long rifle in front of her. So what if she knew little about guns and ammunition. So what if Officer Matthews had lost his eye when he tried to fire her repair job. It didn't matter. Evelyn had a talent. She wasn't completely useless.

She located the catch on the butt, opening it carefully and catching the spring as it tried to escape. She then expertly disassembled the gun, trying to ignore Phlegyas' sudden look of surprise.

"So," the ghoul rasped, drawing Mag's attention away from the sudden blur of hands that was Evelyn. "How much?"

"Two hundred," Mag said, evenly. "I'll throw in some ammo too."

Phlegyas laughed. "Two hundred for a hunting rifle? What, does it shoot missiles too?"

Mag didn't smile at that. "That thing is pristine. Perfect for your, ahem, less-than-experienced friend."

The ghoul was about to speak up when Evelyn finally looked up from her inspection. "It's not pristine," she declared.

Mag and Phlegyas both stared at the girl, mouth aghast.

"It's not pristine," she repeated, staring at Mag. "It's a nice piece, but look at the build-up down the barrel. I'd rather not use something that'll jam on me the moment I meet a Supermutant, thank you very much." She flourished the metal tube at the vendor before slowly putting the rifle back together, mindful that she'd never even seen a Supermutant, let alone fired at one. But Mag was not to know that.

Phlegyas would have liked nothing more than to slap her into silence. She'd get them both killed if she wasn't careful. Mag, meanwhile, was almost lost for words. Almost.

"How dare you say that!" the red-head spluttered. "I'll have you know that rifle is my pride and joy! It's absolutely-"

"-Pristine, yes, you said." Evelyn desperately tried to control the shaking of her voice. _What the fuck am I doing?_

"Only, it's not, is it." Evelyn continued. "But then I doubt I'd get a refund on it when some raider prises it from my cold, dead fingers." She was too far in to quit now.

Mag's skin went the same colour as her hair. "You've got about five seconds to apologise-"

"Apologise for what?" Evelyn let her own anger run through her. "Apologise for insulting your shit gun? Or apologise for not believing your fucked-up little lies? Look, I might be a Tuber, or whatever you overground fuckers call us, but I'm not some retarded little girl." Her eyes were locked on Mag's, her heart thumping in her chest. The anger was her own; not this persona that the pair had built, this was Evelyn's own rage and hurt pouring out of her mouth. This was the vault dweller's revenge at the people topside, the people who would always think that they could get the better of her, the wastelanders who would look down upon her with a mixture of hatred and envy. But then, this outburst was _also _the ultimate bluff, and if she didn't pull this off... Well, she hoped Phlegyas would be able to get her out of this mess.

On the other hand, a wave of righteous indignation washed through Evelyn. The gun _wasn't _pristine. Aside from the build-up in the barrel, she noticed rust around the trigger and the loading mechanism. Mag was trying to rip her off.

Phlegyas noticed the shop get quiet, he saw the three guards slowly circle around the girl, and he could swear he felt his wispy hair greying. This wasn't good.

Mag held the stare for what must have been longer than five seconds. Evelyn's heart felt like it would melt in her chest.

Finally, the fiery red-head spoke quietly. "Well, fuck me hard. A little girl with some balls."

Evelyn fleetingly thought they might be the last words she ever heard.

"Okay, Evelyn, was it?" The vault dweller nodded. "Evelyn, I'll let that rifle go for one twenty." Her voice was low, calm.

"One hundred," Evelyn spoke evenly, trying to stop the relief from showing on her face. "Plus some ammo and something to clean the shit out of it."

A smile crept across Mag's face. "Deal. Hey, Phlegyas, I like your girlfriend. She could teach you a thing or two."

The guards returned to their posts, the punters to their purchases. The noise suddenly became overwhelming once more.

Phlegyas, meanwhile, was almost incandescent. How the fuck had that little smoothie done that? How many times would she wade neck-deep into shit and come out clean? "You were going to rip me off, Mag?" The ghoul wasn't genuinely hurt – hey, this was the wasteland – but he was surprised. He'd not even thought to check the rifle.

Mag waved away the accusation. "Hey, it's just business. Besides, how many caps you got now? You must be a fucking millionaire."

The ghoul ground his teeth together, but stayed silent. Fuck, he wouldn't live this one down.

* * *

The beer tasted somewhat stale, but it was cold and refreshing, especially considering the hot, humid atmosphere of the hall. Evelyn was still amazed at how many people there had been; hundreds of them, all packed into one place. She'd shied away from some men who were attired in that same spiky armour as the raiders of Vault Red, and been pulled forcibly away from another charming man dressed in a purple suit ("What he sells, you don't want," Phlegyas had muttered cryptically).

Evelyn had completed the purchase of her new weapon and had strapped it to her back, its weight feeling somewhat assuring. She'd downplayed her bargaining skills to the still-clearly-sulking ghoul, and quietly allowed herself to be led around the rest of the stalls. They'd purchased some other minor items, met some… _interesting_ vendors, and generally been swept around the bustling marketplace.

It had been around midday when the ghoul had finally stopped at a small bar – little more than a table and a refrigerator – underneath one of the statues of a short fat man in a suit. A hand-written scrawl proclaimed it as being 'Winnie's Bar', but the bartender's name was Yorkie.

Then the ghoul had said that he needed to see an old friend for a while, and that she should try to relax and have something to eat and drink. He'd be back before she knew it.

Evelyn had been nervous to be left alone, but the ghoul had introduced her to a tiny woman in an even smaller red dress. The woman, whose name was Titch, couldn't have been taller than 3 feet. She was apparently another friend of Phlegyas, although the sly look on her face after the ghoul had gone suggested otherwise.

Evelyn couldn't help but notice the torn, faded condition of her dress, nor the strange sticks that she sucked on, nor the awful complexion of her face. It was hard for the vault dweller not to stare.

But, as it turned out, Titch wouldn't have noticed a thousand eyes on her. She was already clearly quite drunk, and rambled on about 'her line of work' and how while it was good, easy money, she found it difficult to really meet someone properly, y'know? Then she had slurred about how much she loved Phlegyas, and how much of a gentleman he was.

Evelyn couldn't get a word in edgeways, but she felt more at ease knowing that someone was at least looking out for her. She turned in her uncomfortable seat, looking for her ghoul companion, but still the tiny woman droned on.

"You'd expect with that skin he'd be as rough as a Yaoi Gui, but he's as gentle as a… uh…"

Evelyn wasn't really listening, so didn't think to offer a suggestion.

"Anyway, so how much he paying you?"

It took the vault-dweller a couple of moments to realise that question was directed at her. She whipped her head back around to be greeted by the tiny woman's glare and a plume of smoke that erupted from between her lips. Evelyn wasn't sure why the woman was breathing heavily on those flaming sticks, and she wasn't certain she wanted to know.

"Uh, he's not paying me anything."

Titch's face lit up. "What? You're working pro bono?"

"Um-"

"Or pro-boner?" The little woman managed a wink before descending into a fit of giggles, punctuated only by a horrible-sounding raspy cough.

The young woman had grown up in a vault and with little experience of sordid jokes, so this flew clear over her head. Evelyn managed a smile toward the cackling woman and said, "Uh, he's my bodyguard."

Titch's cackling lessened, and she nodded while coughing heavily into her balled fist. "Fair enough," she choked out. "So it's all business and no pleasure." She smiled again, but her coughing fit seemed to have steadied her giggles.

It was then that a large man came round the dividing wall, his shadow falling directly over Evelyn and causing the girl to flinch and whip her head around at the newcomer. For a terrifying second she thought the man was coming straight for her, but the giant passed by and hooked a massive trunk of an arm around the dwarfish woman instead.

"Ooh, hello sailor!" Titch whispered into the man's ear. The brute, whose hairy chest must have been wider than Titch was high, enveloped the woman's breasts in one dirty paw, groping them roughly in his brown-stained fingers. The woman let out a soft mew in pleasure.

Evelyn watched on horrified. It was as if a massive bear had got hold of a kitten, but the kitten purred in pleasure as the mauling continued, the tiny woman's dress tearing at the seams under the onslaught. The giant forced his massive fingers inside her clothing, exposing Titch's reddening nipple that poked out between the eclipsing digits. Titch's moaning stopped as a tongue the size of her head pushed between her lips and past her tonsils.

At first, Evelyn thought to call for help, but the way the woman responded, gripping the intruder tight, wrapping her thin legs around the man's expansive waist… the tiny woman was urging the beast on, her own tiny fingers exploring the impossibly hairy chest, forcing the tattered shirt from the man's wide shoulders. She was picked up easily, the wet slaps of their kissing echoing around the bar.

No-one else but Evelyn seemed to take any interest. It was as if they were invisible to all but her. She felt sick to her stomach at the sight, but also couldn't drag her eyes away.

The bear rose to full height, the kitten still attached by the waist and lips. Greedily, they fed off each other as the giant stumbled from the bar, Titch naked from the waist up. The pair didn't even acknowledge Evelyn as they passed, disappearing suddenly from sight around the dividing wall, their noisy slurping quickly drowned out amongst the buzz of the hall.

Evelyn blinked once after the pair, then realised how alone she suddenly was.

_No. Don't think like that. You know what you'll start thinking of._

Downing her beer and gritting her teeth, the young woman stood and decided to find her friend. After all that had gone on, at least she knew she could trust him.

* * *

"Two thousand."

Phlegyas spluttered the whiskey from his mouth. "_Two fucking thousand?_" The ghoul laughed, his echo carrying around the well-lit, cavernous room. "You're kidding me, this is worth five times that!"

The man whom the ghoul was arguing with stared at the papers in his hand, his face nonchalant. "Nevertheless," he said, with such decorum that it made the ghoul's blood boil, "that is my offer."

"You've gotta be kidding me Tommy, I-"

"Thomas."

"-okay, Thomas, listen, this is worth more than two thousand caps. C'mon, that letter you got there _proves_ that VaultTec existed! Hell, I bet there are loads of vaults all over the country! Imagine the caps someone would pay for that information!"

Thomas, a short, fat man with an almost immaculate brown suit and a moustache that stuck out further than his ears, merely looked up from the letter. "Yes," he said, quietly. "But imagine the money I could have made had I got that watercolour made by Turner."

The ghoul gulped, unable to see the man clearly past the blinding lamps that littered the crypt-like dungeon that passed as a museum.

"Yes, I'd imagine that priceless painting would have sold for a _very _pretty penny, had there not been that unfortunate... accident."

"Look, sometimes Supermutants have flamethrowers-"

"-And that is why I paid _good _money for a mercenary who, I was assured, had a great deal of experience in extricating priceless heirlooms from the charred husks of the wastes."

"Hey!" The ghoul snapped back, jabbing a yellowing finger at this fat pretence of a man. "I refunded every single one of your caps. There ain't many mercenaries who'd give you that sort of respect."

"But," Thomas replied, "Most mercenaries would not need to refund their money on some botched operation. _Most_ mercenaries would have realised the worth of the painting to the buyer, and _most _mercenaries would have realised the flammable nature of canvas." The man's voice barely wavered, his eyes locked onto his opponent.

Phlegyas submitted first, his eyes falling to the floor in resignation. "Fine. Two-fucking-thousand it is." He gulped down the last of the whiskey, vowing to somehow get revenge against the cruel dealings of this artefact dealer, and almost immediately knowing that any chance of vengeance would never come.

Thomas brightened, walking over to the ghoul and extending a bloated hand in agreement. "Excellent. So we have a deal."

"Aye," Phlegyas sneered, taking the fat man's hand and shaking it so fiercely that Thomas' belly wobbled in protest.

The transaction was completed without further protest from either party. Thomas proudly lifted up the letter to the artificial light of one of his many lamps that shone bright against a bleached-white wall. Against this wall were dozens of documents, many in frames from a bygone era; the gold and silver trim now tarnished, the paper often browned and curling in places. A short label sat proudly underneath each artefact; a two-sentence eulogy for each piece.

As the ghoul turned to leave, his pitiful bounty already pocketed, he contemplated 'accidentally' knocking over one of the stands on his way from the room. The stands were much like the wall, with each artefact placed carefully under its own light on individual podiums. But knocking one over, however satisfying it would be for that moment, watching the disgustingly-obese curator scream as one of his own children was knocked to the floor, would not be a smart move in the long run. Guards would be called, expletives exchanged, and Phlegyas would be left without any caps to show for his little adventure with the smoothskin. As it was, he was up, albeit slightly, and that was enough for him, even if he wished to plunge his serrated blade far into "Thomas's" neck and delight in the warm, frothy blood as it flowed out of the gaping wound.

"So where did you get this remarkable piece of history, my friend?" Thomas sounded genuinely interested, his eyes still flowing over every detail of the letters clasped in his podgy hands.

The ghoul stopped and sneered. "Never you fucking mind, Tom," he spat over his shoulder.

"Thomas", the man corrected, his tone quite jovial. He had won the battle, and was pleased with his spoils. "And I'd be quite interested to hear it. I'd pay you extra, of course. The patrons would love to know how this came into our hands."

Phlegyas turned and delivered a cold stare. "How much?"

"Perhaps an extra five hundred, if the story is any good?" It was a fair offer considering Phlegyas could make up any lie he wished. But he also knew how fast word would travel in the City. Thomas would already know of Phlegyas' companion, of her pale skin and unusual manner, and he would suspect something. So the ghoul had little option but to either walk away from the money or make up some half-truth that encompassed Evelyn without incriminating her.

"Okay," Phlegyas said, after a moment's hesitation. Well, why the fuck not. "That smoothie I came in with was a Tuber. She told me this amazing story, see."

Thomas kept his patronising smirk. "A Tuber you say? Interesting."

"Yeah. So she was living just by Highbury. Small community, never seen daylight, you know the sort. Anyway, this raiding party comes by, wipes them all out. The poor girl has to run through the dark tunnels, all on her own. Her family has been massacred, it's just her."

"Fascinating."

"She runs for miles, unarmed, completely lost. She don't know where she is, till she suddenly comes up on this massive Vault door. It's been open for years, see, but there's no life there anymore. It's like a ghost town. She doesn't get to explore it for long, but she sees enough to realise it's been picked clean."

"Oh my."

"Then these raiders, who've been following her for miles, because – well, just look at her, those tight thighs of hers alone are worth a fuckin' fortune. So she has to escape again, and she crawls through this train, see, and sees, tucked underneath a seat – ta da! This fucking untouched specimen you hold in your hands."

"Incredible."

"See, what I can't understand – the big mystery, I guess, that I'll leave to you types to figure out, is how that Vault got discovered years ago, taken apart, and this is the first we're hearing of it. Would have thought that would have been big news."

Thomas agreed, nodding and biting his lip to contain his smile. "Yes, indeed that is a mystery, and certainly one I'll have to look into. And quite an impressive story, I'll admit. But the biggest mystery to me is how the young lady – clearly running for her life, and with little knowledge of the rest of the wastes – had the good fortune to change lines at Oxford Circus."

_Oh, shit._

Thomas continued. "See, she clearly picked this letter up near Charing Cross, so we _know_ she must have been either on the Bakerloo or the Northern line. And if she was near Highbury, then she must have started on the Victoria. So she must have gotten off the line at Oxford Circus, ran through the station, and then back _on a different line_. All while being chased. How amazing."

Phlegyas didn't manage to swallow the lump building in his throat. "Ah... she...I must be mistaken about what station she came from. Maybe it was, uh..."

"Harlesden, perhaps?" Thomas offered, the corners of his mouth still twitching upward, threatening to engulf his obese face in a massive, jowly grin.

"Yeah! Yeah, that could be it." Phlegyas said, weakly. His bluff had been called, and now he'd be lucky to leave with any chips on the table.

"Of course. And that PipBoy 3000 on her wrist, presumably she picked that up?"

_Fuck! How the fucking fuck does he know what that thing is? How had he even managed to see what Evelyn was wearing?_

Thomas went on. "See, I saw your friend earlier, and I remember reading about PipBoys in a rare technical manual some _competent_ mercenary managed to bring to me. Explained how they were supposed to be used for the Vault inhabitants, but they never made it over here. Well, that was the story, anyway. Clearly, we were wrong."

"Yeah," croaked Phlegyas. "Well then that letter must be worth a fair few bob then. You got yourself a bargain."

"Yes," chuckled Thomas. "I did indeed. But I'm still fascinated by this young woman's resourcefulness. Changing lines even when being pursued, despite all the dangers. And managing to take such an incredible artefact and, without knowing what it was, having the foresight to put it on correctly."

Phlegyas breathed in deep. Time to count the losses and get out before further damage was caused. "Well Tommy," he said, with as much bravado as he could muster, "it sounds to me like you don't believe my friend's story. Maybe you should ask her about it, when you get the chance." Phlegyas planned on being out of the City before Thomas had even finished wiping his drool off his latest purchase.

"Thomas," the fat man corrected, grinning now. "And I didn't say I don't believe it. I just believe in Occam's Razor above everything else."

The ghoul grimaced. To ask would be to invite more scorn upon his hastily-constructed story, but he doubted he'd escape this one with his credibility intact anyway.

"Occam's Razor," Thomas continued, briskly, "is a broadly-accepted law of the Universe. Did you know that, Phlegyas my boy?"

Phlegyas gritted his teeth in annoyance; he had to be fifty years older than this slimy, rotund curator. Still, he stayed quiet.

"Put simply, the rule states that when there are multiple answers to a certain conundrum, the simplest answer is usually correct. In this case, I'd wager that the reason that your friend has a Vault-Tec PipBoy on her wrist, and Vault-Tec artefacts in her possession, is because she actually came from a Vault. What do you think?" The man was almost giggling now, enjoying his ultimate victory. His belly began to wobble as he fought to contain his laughter.

"Again, maybe you'll get a chance to ask her," the ghoul rasped as he backed away. This wasn't good, this wasn't good at all. They needed to get out of the City right now, otherwise word would spread and Evelyn would be set upon by hundreds of greedy souls all clamouring for the information kept on her PipBoy, and the ghoul guessed that many wouldn't be gentle in their approach.

Thomas' laughter roared through the room. "Indeed. So what do you say, my dear?" He called, leaning past Phlegyas to stare at the entrance. "Did you actually come from a Vault?"

Phlegyas got a sinking feeling in his chest, turning slowly to see his companion stood in the doorway to the room. Her blonde hair shimmered in the artificial light, her cheeks glistened with the tears running down her face. In a moment, she had turned and fled.

"Evelyn! Wait!" The ghoul called, as he ran out of the room after her.

* * *

"You fucking DICK!" The woman's vicious open-palmed slap barely scraped Phlegyas' shoulder, but still the ghoul recoiled.

"You absolute fucking cunt-stick of a man!" Evelyn snarled, her eyes filled with fire. "How fucking DARE you!"

The ghoul sighed. Another screaming match. She'd be pissed off for a while – and for good reason, Phlegyas supposed – but there would be no lasting damage. After all, Evelyn had fled through the crowded marketplace and right out the door into the streets before Phlegyas had finally caught her shoulder and whipped her around. They were out of the City now, still safely in range of the snipers, but away from any who might do her harm, at least for this immediate moment.

Evelyn's hands became weaker as she desperately beat at the ghoul's chest, her limbs trembling as tears streaked down her face. Her cries of anger had long since become incomprehensible.

Phlegyas would have argued, but it would do no good. He knew that he'd clearly upset the woman by lying to her, but soon, she would realise that Phlegyas had done little more than just rack up a cheeky profit. She could spit bile as much as she wanted; the ghoul had endured far worse. Besides, hadn't he looked after her? Didn't he deserve a little share in the spoils?

Evelyn sunk to her knees, her sobs coming in loud, gasping chokes. Her hands clung desperately to Phlegyas' trousers, her face flushed with rage.

"Listen, Evelyn," Phlegyas spoke softly. "I'm sorry for what I did, but we need to get a move on. Away from this place."

The woman managed to spit some more venom from her mouth.

"I'll look after you. But we need to get you somewhere safe."

Evelyn's fingers curled around the fabric, her whole body quaking with an anger that even Phlegyas hadn't anticipated. She screamed a few more profanities before dragging herself to her feet, her eyes locking onto the ghoul's as their faces almost touched, flecks of spittle flying from the enraged woman's lips.

"Safe? You fucking think anywhere in this fucked-up, Godforsaken world is safe?" Her voice lacked the volume of before, but nevertheless the ghoul was starting to get unnerved at the sheer intensity of it.

"Only one place was safe." She managed, staring right into Phlegyas' eyes, tears streaming down her face. Her lips were trembling, her hands slowly losing their grip.

Suddenly, forcefully, Evelyn pushed the ghoul backwards. Phlegyas hadn't expected this surge of violence, and was thrown to the floor. He landed unceremoniously on his backside.

Evelyn turned and stormed away, making it a few more yards before her knees gave way and she gave in to her despairing sadness.

Phlegyas blinked. He hadn't expected such a reaction. What had he done? Why was the woman so angry with him? Didn't he just say he'd protect her?

_Fuck sake, someone under my guard is as safe as a Vault!_

_...oh, shit._

The realisation of what he might have started suddenly hit the ghoul like a train. He felt his stomach turn as the ramifications of his actions sunk in.

He raised himself up on his feet and slowly, cautiously, approached the woman, who was sobbing quietly on her knees. She seemed to acknowledge his approach, but made no move to attack him. She was too far gone, too spent, to muster anything other than a hurtful glance back.

"You... you wanted to get to another vault, didn't you." Phlegyas asked, slowly.

The girl managed a nod.

"So you could lock yourself in."

A shrug this time.

"And I've pretty much fucked that up, haven't I."

Evelyn answered by exhausting the last of her tears, wailing at the top of her lungs.

The ghoul stumbled over to a nearby low wall and rested against it, the full weight of guilt crashing down upon him as he sank to the floor.

Phlegyas was a mercenary. He always spied a profit, always took risks, even if it could result in another's ire. But this... this was something else.

By giving away the location to VaultTec headquarters, he'd inadvertently given away the location to every Vault in the country to any raider with even an ounce of know-how. And, given what had happened at Vault Red, he doubted any other vault could withstand an attack.

Phlegyas had just condemned every single Vault dweller to death.

Not just that; he'd properly ruined any slim hope Evelyn had been holding onto. Any dream she had kept that she would be welcome somewhere again. Any wish that she could return to her former life, where she didn't have some zombie fool shouting at her for the sole crime of being born in a Vault.

The ghoul felt cold, sick to his stomach. How could he do such a thing? How could he not have seen that he would be endangering lives?

Any further thought on the matter was pushed to the back of his mind, as a trembling shadow blocked out his light and he felt the cool barrel of Evelyn's 9mm pressing into his skull.

**END OF CHAPTER 6**


	8. Chapter Seven: A Hard Bargain

**CHAPTER 7 – A Hard Bargain**

_She won't pull the trigger. She's upset right now, but she won't pull the trigger. She won't._

Evelyn's hand trembled against the weight of the pistol. Her arm outstretched, her fingers slipping - she knew that she was holding it all wrong. But still, the seething hatred burning through her soul kept the barrel planted firmly against the ghoul's head. She stared intently at the man, this pathetic wretch of a man, who had taken away her one secret hand trembled against the weight of the pistol. She wasn'desire just so he could turn a tidy profit. Her teeth ground together as she willed her finger to tighten on the trigger, to end his life right there, on the street.

_She better not pull that trigger. If Gaz is up in the tower, she'll get a bullet in the brain before I'd even hit the floor. She won't anyway. She's not capable of doing it._

Phlegyas didn't meet her gaze, his eyes firmly fixed on the ground, his face unreadable. Evelyn wished him to look at her, to see the hurt and pain and anguish he'd caused, that he was responsible for. She wouldn't even need to say a word; in that moment, the ghoul would know the reason why he must die. Then she'd send the man straight to hell, taking grim satisfaction from ridding the wastes of such a soulless zombie.

_C'mon Gaz, if you're up there. Fire a warning shot. Scare her off. It doesn't matter, she won't pull the trigger, but come on. I'm getting a little nervous here._

He'd not only condemned her to a life stuck out here in the wastes. He'd made sure that the thousands of vault inhabitants – maybe even millions – would suffer the same fate as her best friend, their skulls split open, their brains seeping out onto the cold, uncaring vault floor. What better way to repay the ghoul's kindness than by condemning him to the same fate? Let him know the abject terror that every single vault dweller would be feeling over the coming weeks. She would be the angel of vengeance, the sole survivor of this madness that this rotting man had created.

_Fuck sake, smoothie. You're just embarrassing yourself now. Put the gun down. You don't have the guts to pull that trigger. You won't pull the trigger. You can't kill me._

And what of Rosie? Her friend who'd been taken away, she was barely 14! She'd been dragged into a fate far worse than death. As naïve as she may be, Evelyn knew there would only be one reason the women were spared. How many other young women would be taken as prizes from the vault? What about the children? And all because of one man, who couldn't wait to turn a tidy sum in exchange for their bodies. So look up, zombie, because my face is going to be the last one you see.

_Don't pull the trigger, Evelyn. You need me._

Phlegyas looked up into her eyes, so focused with rage and hatred. He felt the barrel push harder against his scalp, watched as tears started to flow down Evelyn's cheeks, saw the tensing of her hand and the tightening of her finger over the trigger.

The ghoul closed his eyes tightly as he waited for the inevitable.

Then: "Fuck it." And the barrel was pulled away.

It was then that Phlegyas realised how hard his heart was beating, how close she had actually been to ending his life. And as much as that thought irked him, as much as he hated the fact that some fresh-faced little girl had almost done something that one hundred hard years in the waste had not, hadn't he deserved this? Hadn't he miscalculated, justified his rotten behaviour by the fact he hadn't robbed Evelyn blind the moment she had arrived in the Square? When did he stop thinking about what his actions would do to others?

Phlegyas was _not _a nice man, but he was a good man, and he prided himself on such. He'd turned down jobs that were simply too cold for him to complete, and while he drove a hard bargain, he wouldn't look to rip people off – unless they deserved it, of course. And he'd killed, but only when he deemed it necessary. And sure, he'd look to turn a profit, but didn't everyone? Wasn't everyone just trying to get ahead in the wastes? Surely no-one actually cared about each other.

Perhaps he was not a good man after all.

Phlegyas would have thought more about his self-serving way of life, were he not interrupted by Evelyn, who spoke in a calm tone, almost a whisper.

"I'm sorry?"

"Baker Street," Evelyn repeated, icily. "Which way."

"Why do you need-"

"None of your fucking business. Which way."

The ghoul sighed. He'd read the letter, and remembered the address of the Vault Tec Headquarters. But he'd done his share of bad things for the day, he wasn't about to let the smooth-skin run free. As much as she might hate him right now, Phlegyas knew that she needed him.

"Evelyn," he began.

"Don't you fucking 'Evelyn' me," the woman spat. "I might not know much, but I'm not hanging around you a second longer. Now tell me which way."

The ghoul held her gaze. "No. I'm not letting you go on your own."

Evelyn's eyes blazed, and for a lingering moment she thought to raise her gun again and truly end his existence right there. But she refused to end up like him. She would never act so low, even if it might mean her own demise.

"Fine," she said, eventually. "Goodbye." And with that, she stormed past the ghoul, her eyes fixed on the street ahead.

She'd made it only a few steps before she heard the ghoul calling. "I'm fucking sorry, alright?" She ignored him, and kept walking down the road. She didn't want to turn and show the bastard the tears that were flowing down her face.

The ghoul shouted something else, but Evelyn was lost in her own misery.

She had barely made it further down the road when she heard a commotion to her right. She was dimly aware of how stupid it was to be marching off alone without checking the streets were safe, but her own anger and shame at being fooled so easily had clouded her sense. She glanced over to the ruckus, and looked upon a massive, ruined building that spilt out onto the street.

The façade of the building had been torn away exposing dozens of separate rooms, all empty, but the middle of the structure had what looked to be a rounded courtyard, the edge of which was open to the streets. Four heavily-armed men in green armour stood at the threshold, eyeing Evelyn warily. It seemed to the young wanderer that the courtyard had once been enclosed behind the face of the building, perhaps hidden by a large gate, but this had long since gone.

What held Evelyn's gaze was not the state of the structure, though. Around the courtyard itself stood a large throng of humans who all yelled and hollered, raising their arms in flurries of excitement as they cheered at a smaller group who stood in the middle, flanked on either side by guards. Standing from a makeshift balcony, a fancy-dressed man stood with his entourage looking over the whole parade, speaking loudly over the din. Evelyn could barely hear a single word he said, but was intrigued by it all.

_Could this be an execution? _Evelyn guessed, crossing the road slowly. The guards stood straighter as she approached to watch, but did not challenge her.

The woman stared into the courtyard, watching the guards carefully as she did so. Two remained fixed on her, but did not appear to be hostile. Her own morbid curiosity forcing her to watch the spectacle unfold.

She could see the humans in the middle clearly now. They were dressed in rags, a stark contrast to the well-dressed patrons that lined the inner rim of the plaza. They faced the crowd, their backs to Evelyn, awaiting the orders from the man atop his perch.

The man was a tall, well-built individual with more jewellery adorning his body than Evelyn had ever seen. He continued to speak, his voice booming down onto the crowd below.

"…was picked up down Lambeth way, and you know what they say about Lambeth girls!" The crowd howled in laughter and derision. "She's clean, far as we can tell, and she'll make an excellent companion!" More howls from the baying wolves. "What do you all say, do I hear a grand?"

Evelyn watched through the ruined façade as certain members of the crowd waved their hands energetically in the air. "Excellent!" continued the man. "Can we get a monkey on top?"

Most members of the crowd lowered their hands, but a few still waved frantically, twisting to gain the caller's attention.

"Well, what did I tell you all! This girl is popular!" The crowd laughed again, and several hooted loudly.

"So, do I hear two? Two grand anyone?"

Only one member of the crowd still stood with his hand aloft, a massively obese man who leered at the figures in the centre. Drool dripped down from his slovenly chin as he rubbed his belly with his free hand.

"We have a buyer, Ladies and Gentlemen!" The crowd applauded and howled in pleasure, patting the rotund man on his back. Two well-dressed men approached the buyer, who lazily reached down and plucked an old, worn suitcase from beside him. The case was snatched by the guards, who opened it and gave the contents a glance, before nodding to both the man in the balcony and the guards surrounding the group in the middle.

On their order, the human at the far left, a young, scrawny looking waif, was pulled out of line and roughly forced toward the huge beast of a man. She screamed a high-pitched wail and fought against her captors, but still they dragged her forward, the men easily overpowering the tiny girl.

The buyer was handed a small object by one of the guards, and he waved this triumphantly in the girl's face as she approached. The sight of the object made her stop struggling, and she was released to walk the last few feet to him, although she did so with her shoulders drooping and trembling in sorrow. The fat man reached out a massive paw and curled his huge hand around her frail waist, pulling her into him as he laughed heartily.

Evelyn was suddenly aware that all four entrance guards were now looking past her, over her shoulder. One of them brought his gun up to his waist, frowning.

There was a burst of smoke from beside her, and then she heard a familiar, hated voice. "Slavers," Phlegyas simply explained.

Evelyn thought to walk away again, her rage knotting her stomach, but something inside of her willed her to watch more of the grisly scene. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of turning around, though.

Another burst of smoke, the wispy strands curling around Evelyn's blonde ponytail. "See those things around their necks?" The ghoul said, quietly.

Evelyn looked, and noticed that each human in the line-up had a large, metal collar.

"They're slave collars", the ghoul continued. "Pre-war things. They're controlled by remotes like ol' chubster over there is holding, his is likely just set for the collar of that little girl he's just bought."

Evelyn grimaced, looking at the girl as she was led away by her new 'master'. This was fucked up, big time. She had just watched someone's life traded for a few measly bottle caps.

"The collar's got a microphone in it, and a tracker that lets the controller see where the slave is. But the biggest thing? It's also wired with just the right amount of explosives to make your head go pop."

Evelyn partly wished the ghoul would shut up and leave her be, but her appalled fascination with what was transpiring in front of her would not let her go. She couldn't believe anyone could be so cruel… the raid on _Vault Red _notwithstanding.

She suddenly remembered that, of course the wasteland could be cruel. Her former friend behind her - the one that now reeked of a sweet, sickly smell – had betrayed her and many more lives just for a bit of money. This was her life now, as much as Evelyn wished no part of it.

Scanning the line up of soon-to-be-slaves, Evelyn saw a number of muscular men, followed by- _shit, is that Rosie?_

The girl on the far end of the line looked very much like her 14 year old friend from the vault, the one that had been taken by those cruel men. While Evelyn had no way of being sure – she could only see her back – the girl in the line seemed to be the same build and had the same long copper-coloured hair.

She couldn't stand to lose her friend again, not this way. No. There must be something she could do.

Ignoring the smoke still being blown behind her, Evelyn turned to one of the guards. "Can anyone go in and buy one?"

As one, all four guards shifted their focus from the heavily-armed ghoul to the young, lightly-dressed girl. The nearest guard spoke. "Yeah, if you want, love, but it'll cost you two hundred for entry alone. You got that?"

Evelyn didn't have that – she had less than thirty caps remaining after her little shopping spree earlier. And how was she going to buy her friend out of slavery? How much was a grand, anyway?

Thinking quickly, Evelyn replied, "No, but how'd you like my rifle? It's-"

If the guards did accept barter in exchange, Evelyn would never know, because she was suddenly grasped on the shoulder by a large, grey hand and whipped around forcefully. She pressed her hands out to stop her spin, her palms finally resting on Phlegyas' chest, her face mere inches from the man she now hated most in all of the world.

"What the fuck are you doing?" The ghoul hissed into her ear, as quiet as he could. The remainder of smoke blew from his lips as he crushed one of those strange glowing sticks on the ground underneath his boot.

Evelyn, momentarily aware about how close they were, kept her eyes planted to the floor. Her body trembled with rage, but she had lost her will to fight free from the embrace, the ghoul having wrapped his strong arm around her shoulders.

"What I do with my belongings is none of your concern," she said as haughtily as she could, keeping her voice low, her lips baring her teeth like a cornered, wounded animal.

"No, but what you do with yourself is," he whispered back.

"Oh really? I would have thought that you just care about yourself and how many caps you can get by screwing your friends."

Phlegyas was taken aback. _Friends? She thought of me as her friend? _In some ways, it was a laughably naïve way to think – she'd known Phlegyas for less than 24 hours. That wasn't the way to judge someone at all. Phlegyas had known some people for years – _decades –_ and yet still never thought of them as more than associates.

But then, in other ways, referring to him as a friend was one of the nicest sentiments that the ghoul had known. This woman had barely known him, and yet had trusted him with her life. Whatever Evelyn might think of him now, she had seen some good inside of him. He felt another pang of guilt.

"Look," the ghoul said, keeping his temper in check. "Fair enough. You never want to see me again. I get it. But if you have any belief that I know what the fuck I'm doing out in these wastes, you need to know this: _Do not go in there_. That place is fucked up, and like as not, you'll end up wearing one of those collars before sunset."

Evelyn kept her eyes firmly planted at Phlegyas' feet, her teeth grinding together. As much as she hated the ghoul right now, as much as she knew she didn't have to ever speak to him again, she felt compelled to give her reasons. "My friend is in there," she said. "Well, I think it's her. From Vault Red, she got… taken. I can't lose her again. I _can't._"

Phlegyas bit his rotting lip while he contemplated that. He looked at the line-up of humans, noticing how quickly the auction was being completed. There were only three left, the last of which was a thin, young looking girl. What if Evelyn was wrong, and it wasn't her friend? They'd never be allowed to get a look at her before she was sold. Unless, of course, they went in.

_Shit Phlegyas, what are you thinking of? One smart-looking smoothie turns up on your doorstep and suddenly you grow a fucking conscience? Just walk away. It's clear that she's made her mind up about you, in more ways than one. Just let her go._

The ghoul sighed. He usually listened to such raging inner monologue, but today… it seemed so wrong, just to abandon the girl.

"Okay. Listen," Phlegyas began. "I'm not doing this as an apology, cos I'm guessing I've pretty much burnt all those bridges by now. But whatever. Follow me." The ghoul grasped her hand and strode over to the guards.

"Alright mate, here's four hundred, for both me and my… my friend, here." Phlegyas handed over a weighty pouch. The guard took it and opened it up, reaching his hand inside to play with the hundreds of caps inside. He felt the weight, handed it to his colleague to check, and then unceremoniously nodded his head toward the entrance.

"Alright. In you go. No funny stuff though, zombie."

Phlegyas betrayed no emotion to the insult as he walked through the threshold of the arena, still holding onto Evelyn's hand as she followed. She wasn't about to argue with the ghoul, after all, this was the very least he could do for her.

They took their place in the crowd quickly, barely earning a second glance from most spectators as they stood at the edge of the throng. Evelyn finally caught sight of the girl's face, her friend, and saw a complete stranger.

The girl was _not _Rosie.

Despite her diminutive stature, Evelyn guessed the woman was older than herself, in her early twenties at least. Her face was rounder, her eyes wider. Waves of disappointment crashed over Evelyn.

"And we're down to our last one of the day, Ladies and Gentlemen!" The man up in the balcony called down upon the shouting crowd.

"That's not her." Evelyn said, quietly.

Phlegyas grunted. "Okay," he said, after a moments pause. He kept his cool; getting into another fight here would guarantee attention that they really didn't need. "We should get out of here, then." _Four hundred caps down the drain._

He reached out to take hold of Evelyn's hand once again, but the vault dweller pulled away from his grasp. He looked quizzically at her.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," she said, her voice barely reaching over the baying crowds.

"She's a catch, all right! A beautiful young thing, in her prime. Look at the meat on her bones! She'll do _everything_ you want her to do!"

Evelyn looked again toward the slave woman, and was surprised to see a spark in captive's eyes. The last girl had looked broken, defeated. But this woman, she almost wore a mischievous smile, as if she dared someone to buy her.

"We'll start the bidding at one grand!"

Hands instantly shot up around the arena.

The slave's face faltered as she caught sight of a few of the arena's larger and uglier members; one, in particular, was a man almost twice the size of the one Evelyn had seen before. Sores protruded from all over his face, and he grinned wickedly at the woman.

"Yes! Now, let's raise the stakes, two grand!"

Still a number of hands were raised, including the monstrous beast in the opposite corner.

The slave woman growled lightly, baring her teeth. Still that flame in her eyes, Evelyn saw. This woman would not be taken easily.

"Haha! Now, let's add a monkey to that!"

Only two hands remained raised. One was the massive man in the corner, his sunken eyes glancing over to the only other remaining member of the auction.

Phlegyas scanned the crowd as he tried to see who else was still in the running for the slave. When he could see no more hands raised, his mouth dropped open.

_Oh fuck._

The ghoul turned slowly, and saw Evelyn, defiant, with her hand up.

"What the fuck are you doing?" hissed the ghoul, but his words were lost in the massive cheer.

"Wow! How about three grand then, for this wonderful specimen!"

The gigantic man in the far corner faltered, then lowered his hand slowly. He gritted his teeth and growled, clearly upset to lose his purchase. Evelyn remained stood with her hand raised, the crowd cheering around her.

"We have a buyer, Ladies and Gentlemen!"

Phlegyas stood, shocked, as the crowd jostled around him. What had just happened? What was that damn smoothie thinking in bidding for a slave? What was she going to do with her, just set her free? That wasn't how it worked. And, more importantly, _where the fuck was she going to get three thousand caps from?_

There was, of course, only one answer to that question. Both Evelyn and Phlegyas knew it as the guards approached for the payment, but the ghoul still gritted his teeth and pulled the woman close, all but screaming into her ear.

"So you expect me to pay up for this slave?"

"Well," Evelyn said, flushed and trembling, "How much did you sell all the vault dwellers off for? You got enough from that?"

That was the answer Phlegyas had been expecting, but that did nothing to soften the blow.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, the courtyard, like Phlegyas' stash of caps, had all but emptied.

A couple of guards remained on the fringes, but the snazzy-dressed man from the balcony had retreated into the building, and the potential buyers had mostly filtered out onto the streets. Only Phlegyas, Evelyn and the slave woman remained in the plaza.

The ghoul was sat, stony-faced, on some steps, sucking more smoke through a glowing stick, his teeth clenched around the end. His backpack, lightened considerably, sat between his legs.

The slave woman stood in the courtyard, eying Evelyn with a ferocious glare as the vault-dweller fumbled around with the remote that she had been given. The device seemed simple enough; a standard radar tracking system to show where the wearer of the collar was at any time; a switch that allowed the user to activate the microphone on the collar's front, and a two-stage big, red button that would… well, Evelyn didn't want to think about that. In fact, she had no desire to use any part of the device at all.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, she decided. Perhaps a little impulsive on her part, but she had gotten some good from the ghoul's ill-gotten gains – even if she was shocked that a 'grand' meant one thousand – and she had almost certainly saved this woman from a lifetime of servitude.

But then, reality had kicked in. She technically owned this woman now. She'd actually given money to slavers – well, her companion had, anyway – and as such, supported their trade. But wasn't that preferable to the alternative? Surely this slave would have to be grateful for what she'd done for her.

"You want to juggle with that fuckin' thing, or what?" The woman said, finally.

Evelyn looked over at the woman. She was fairly attractive, in her way; her brown hair fell down just past her shoulders, and her build suggested someone who was well-kept. She had defined muscles on her arms and legs, and her barely-visible midriff was tight. The more Evelyn looked, the more she realised that this woman could be quite dangerous.

"That's right. Take a good look. Mmm mmm." The woman licked her lips and turned her behind round, smacking her rump harshly with the palm of her hand. "That's right."

Evelyn frowned at the display. The woman was definitely mocking her. "What's your name?" She asked.

The slave blinked, taken aback by the question. "What do you care? My name is whatever you want it to be, sugar." A derisory tone; Evelyn guessed that the woman had been a slave for some time.

"Don't give shit to me," Evelyn barked back, surprising herself. "I just asked you your name. Your proper name. I'm not going to give one for you."

The slave smiled, slowly, looking Evelyn up and down. "I'm Daisy," she said, after a moment. "But most people just call me Rabbit."

"Because you're small and easily frightened?" Suggested Evelyn, her smirk rivalling the woman's.

"Because I can move like the fuckin' wind," the slave replied.

Phlegyas groaned from his perch. "Oh great. We've got ourselves a slave that likes to run. This can't end badly."

"Fuck off," said Evelyn, still angry at the ghoul. "So, Rabbit, guess we better get going." The slave shrugged in response.

Phlegyas rose from the steps, crushing his glowing stick beneath his boot. "Okay, so what's-"

"Who said you were coming?"

The ghoul snarled. "Don't give me that shit, Evelyn. I don't care if you hate me, that slave is my property. I own her."

The vault-dweller laughed at that. "You own her? You don't own fucking anybody. You've paid a bit of compensation for the lives you've ruined. That's it. Far as I'm concerned, Rabbit here is free."

The slave woman hooted in derision. "Ooh, looks like I've come up smack bang in the middle of a lover's tiff!"

Phlegyas snarled, but knew this wasn't the place for such a discussion. "Fine. Your choice. And in a bit, I'll fuck off and leave you be. But let's get out of this place before we all end up with metal collars for pyjamas like our friend Flopsy here."

* * *

A couple of hours later, Evelyn found herself stood in the middle of a clearing.

Despite her frustration, she'd followed Phlegyas' advice of leaving the area. Soon after, the ghoul had led them through a wide space, pausing only to cross a barricaded road. Phlegyas had been nervous as he had done so, casting a glance toward a large structure at the road's end. Rabbit had been equally jittery, criticising the choice to get so close to 'The Palace', but Evelyn had not enquired further. The group had continued in silence, the slave keeping a respectful distance from her at all times.

They'd entered another clearing, with tepid water and fossilised tree-stumps the only sign that anything had stood here. The ground was brown and marshy, soft and uneven.

The ghoul had taken the chance to look around. In this location, they could be seen for a good half-mile, but they'd also see trouble before it got the chance to creep up on them. There was still a good amount of light in the sky, so Phlegyas returned to sit on a blackened stump. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack containing more of those smoking sticks. He pulled out three, putting one between his lips and holding out the remaining pair to the two women.

Rabbit smirked and plucked one from his hand with a nod. Evelyn frowned and shook her head.

Phlegyas produced another box, from which he took a small stick and struck it against the side. A small flame suddenly engulfed the tip, which was offered to Rabbit first.

"Haven't had one of these in a while, cheers m'dears," Rabbit said, as she leant down and inhaled the flame through the stick. She sucked in smoke, breathing it out with a relaxed sigh.

Phlegyas lit the end of his own stick before casting a glare at Evelyn. "So, smoothie, I get that the plan is for me to fuck off. But what do you plan to do now?"

The woman stared at the ghoul. "You know what I'm planning to do. First things first though." Evelyn retrieved the remote from her pocket and lobbed it toward Rabbit, who only just caught it. The slave stared with shock at her "owner".

"You're free. Off you go." Evelyn said, simply.

Rabbit and Phlegyas exchanged wide-eyed glances, before bursting into laughter.

It wasn't the first time she had felt humiliated since finding the outside, but still Evelyn stood there, feeling like she had missed out on something vital as the pair laughed loudly. She grit her teeth in exasperation.

Rabbit eventually regained her composure. "Well, aren't you sweet? That's actually a really nice thing you did, although it means jackshit to me." Her accent seemed softer than Phlegyas', but it still held a somewhat mocking tone, as if she were now speaking to a child.

"Evelyn," Phlegyas began, "unless you know how to get that collar off, our little friend Rabbit here is still fucked. See, these remotes have a motion sensor countdown. If that remote remains too close to her for more than a few minutes, it'll just go ahead and pop her head anyway. Safety device built in so the slave can't run off with their remotes."

"Yup. And we can't stray too far from it neither, so we can't just bury it. That results in the same; my brains going for a walk all over the shop."

Evelyn swore, softly. "Well what about if we destroy it?"

"Same thing, sugar," Rabbit replied, tossing the remote back to her. "I have to stay near the remote; the remote has to stay near me. Thanks anyway, but looks like you're stuck with little me." She shot a smile that was altogether a little too threatening for Evelyn's tastes.

"Alright," the vault-dweller said, thinking on her next move. "What about if we find you a nice place to hold up? You bury the remote, and live near it?"

Rabbit laughed again. "Aww, don't you want me baby? I could help make your journey that much sweeter."

Evelyn flushed.

"Well looks like you two are going to be happy together," Phlegyas said with a smile, taking another drag.

Evelyn snarled at the man. "How about we get rid of that collar?"

"No can do, sweetie. See, it's locked on good and tight. If you start to tinker with it, all that'll happen is that they'll be sweeping up your fingers alongside my brains." Rabbit turned to the ghoul. "She ain't too smart, is she?"

Phlegyas chuckled softly. "Evelyn's got a good mind on her, she's just not used to topside living."

Rabbit turned back to Evelyn. "Ah, a Tuber. Should have guessed. You've got good skin."

"Actually-" Evelyn started, but the ghoul interrupted with a warning cough. "Actually," Evelyn continued unabashed, "I'm not a Tuber."

"No? Then how come you don't know shit?"

Phlegyas quickly interjected. "Evelyn, don't go saying anything you may regret. You understand?"

"Why not? You've already spread the secret around. May as well let the whole world know now, hey?"

Rabbit looked between the ghoul and the blonde-haired vault-dweller. "Shit. You guys really need to fuck. Get some of that tension out of… whatever this is." She waved her hand derisively at the pair.

Evelyn blushed again. "Enough of that. Daisy – Rabbit – whatever your name is. I'm from a vault. I lived underground my whole life."

Rabbit didn't even blink. "That's nice for you. Thought those vaults were make-believe, but whatever. Fact is, you're still a Tuber of sorts. Don't matter where you came from underground, you still don't know jack, do you."

Evelyn shrugged. "Not about living up here, no."

Rabbit smiled. "'xactly. So it don't matter where you came from, what happened way back when. No-one cares. But word of advice, oh master, you might need to learn stuff pretty quickly, else you'll get yourself killed."

Evelyn didn't know how to take that advice. On one hand, it was mildly insulting that this woman did not care about her life story. Mind you, Phlegyas had seemed to care, and he'd stabbed her in the back. So what did that tell her?

On the other hand, what Rabbit had implied was that living underground shouldn't hold her back. She could still craft out a life for herself here, even if any chance of living in a vault had been cruelly ended. She just had to learn the new rules of the game.

There was a lull in the conversation as Evelyn pondered that, and Phlegyas quietly finished his glowing stick, letting it burn down to his fingertips. Rabbit seemed impressed that she'd quietened both of them.

"So, why you guys fighting? I assume you are, have been, or are about to fuck, right?"

"What is it with you and fucking?" Asked the ghoul.

"Hey honey, look at me. I'm Grade-A meat right here. I've had two previous owners, and they didn't want me for my cooking skills. Fucking is pretty much all I know."

"You've been a slave before, then?" Evelyn asked.

Rabbit clapped sarcastically. "Congrats. Yeah, since I was nine. Old story – raiders came into my home, killed my parents in front of me, made me drink their blood, yadadada. Wasn't long before I was pressed into service, if you know what I mean."

Evelyn frowned, images of Vault Red pouring into her mind.

"Well, then I got sold for some treaty or some shit, to this caravan guy. He treated me a little better, at least he fed me some cooked stuff. Then, couple weeks ago, he gets his brains beaten out by some slavers, and they spared me and took me off to the market." She shrugged, taking a lazy drag from her glowing stick.

Evelyn was shocked, but tried to hide it. "So… you don't care about all this?"

"About what? Fucking some guys to stay alive? Well it's not exactly my dream. But there ain't much more I can do about it. Not many people who can save me from it, after all – yourself excluded, although unless you know how this fucking metal necklace works, even you can't help me much, can you. This is the hand I got dealt, this is all I can play. I'm guessing ghoulie over here would share my sentiment."

"Damn right," said Phlegyas.

_And what do I have against that? _Evelyn thought._ 18 years of comfortable living followed by a few hours of terror. That's nothing._

Rabbit continued. "See, to get a nicer bed to sleep in these past couple of weeks, I fucked Judas – you know, that guy who was running the show back there. I do what I need to survive."

Phlegyas grinned. Hadn't he tried to teach the smoothie that very adage?

"Mind you, even I've got my limits. If fatso had won me, I'd have legged it. Rather have a nice painless death and paint the pavement than get my hips crushed or die from God-knows-what disease. So I guess, you saved my life. Cheers, and all that."

The ghoul nodded. He was actually warming to this woman, even if her tone suggested she wasn't always as sincere as she seemed.

"So, hang on. We can take that collar off? I mean, there is a way to do it?" Evelyn said, a thought emerging.

"Sure there is. But you have to hack into it using a terminal, then bypass some shitty whatchamacallit. Heard it happen before, though. Problem is, you get it wrong, I get dead. And I'm guessing you're not up to date on how to do it."

Evelyn nodded, smiling despite herself. "I'm not, no. But I'm pretty smart about taking things apart. Maybe I can learn."

Rabbit snorted. "Yeah, great. And after you've blown my head up a few hundred times, then maybe you'll learn how to do it."

The three shared a short laugh.

"Okay," Evelyn said. "Well I'm guessing we need to get a move on, cause we can't stay here, and Phlegyas needs to fuck off back to the Gallery."

"Oh, he's not coming with us on a grand adventure? That's not very smart, considering you know fuck all about this place."

"I don't, but you do." Evelyn said.

"Me? I know my way round men – and women too, sweetie," and at this, she offered a wink which made Evelyn blush again. "But ghouls are, like, really good at staying alive. You two need to get over your little tiff, else we're all gonna end up dead."

Phlegyas stayed quiet, content to let this conversation play out in front of him. He'd long since given up on trying to convince Evelyn himself.

"This isn't some 'tiff'. We're not fucking, we're not… anything. I thought he'd help me, and the second I'm not there, he sells the location of the VaultTec head office to the highest bidder and makes sure that everyone who lives in a vault is going to meet an untimely death." Evelyn felt her anger building again.

"Hmm. Well that is fucked up, I'd agree." Rabbit didn't lose her mischievous smile. "But them's the law of the wastes. Every woman for themselves, and all that."

"I'm not taking him along just so he can stab me in the back again."

Rabbit shrugged. "So where are we going?" Her derisory tone suggested that she didn't agree with Evelyn's decision.

"Baker Street. I'm going to get to those headquarters first and destroy the records, so no-one can find out where the vaults are. Then at least I can rest easy."

Rabbit nodded. "And you, zombie-boy, or whatever your name is. What do you say to all this fuck-uppery?"

Phlegyas finished his second glowing stick and tossed it to the ground. "I was just trying to get a bit of money. I actually didn't think about fucking it up for everybody." Another pang of guilt hit the ghoul.

"So, you'd be up for coming with hero-girl here and helping her?"

Evelyn's hands balled into fists. "I'm not bringing him with us."

Rabbit sighed. "Why not? He seems to know what he's doing. You and me, Evelyn, whatever your name is, even if you're a good shot, I doubt we'd make it alone. Best case scenario is that we end up with matching collars and perform double-acts on a bunch of guys. It ain't gonna end well, I can promise you that. Well, not for you, anyway." Another wink.

Evelyn sighed. "How are you with a gun?"

Rabbit blinked. "Me? You really that stupid? Come on, I'm a slave. When do you ever see a slave with a gun?"

Evelyn grimaced, but reached into her holster and pulled out her pistol. She held it out for the wide-eyed Rabbit to take.

Rabbit stared at the vault-dweller, before turning to Phlegyas. "She serious?"

The ghoul shrugged, well aware of Evelyn's naivety by now. "Yeah, she's… one of a kind."

Rabbit didn't take the offered gun. Turning back to the woman, she shook her head incredulously. "Listen, Evelyn. I'm kinda amazed by you. You offer to free me, even though you ain't got a clue how, and then you want to give me a gun? I mean, you're either the nicest person I ever met, or the stupidest."

"Or both," muttered the ghoul.

"Fuck you," Evelyn said to Phlegyas. To Rabbit, she simply said; "Take it. What you going to do, kill us? That fucks you up as much as me."

Rabbit blinked once, before smiling. "Fair enough." She took the gun, tucking it into her loose-fitting waistband. "I'm not a great shot, just to warn you."

"Nor is she," Phlegyas muttered again.

"Fuck off!" Evelyn said, her temper rising. Again she turned back to Rabbit. "So you've used one before?"

"Well, yeah. Jack – that caravan owner – he taught me how to use one, just in case we were ever surrounded by some Supermutants or some such shit. I'm pretty sure he knew that if I ever got a gun in battle, I'd have blown his fucking brains out, consequences be damned. But anyway, that practice was just firing at some tin cans while under armed guard. I'm not some fucking marksman."

Evelyn sighed. "Alright. Well, we'll make do, I guess."

"We'll make do?" Rabbit started to chuckle. "Fuck me, Evelyn. I'm beginning to wish that fatso had bought me." She moved over to the ghoul. "Hey, you... what's your name again?"

"Phlegyas."

Rabbit smirked. "Gesundheit."

The ghoul bared his teeth. "Never heard that one before."

"Flegas, give us that box of cigarettes. Gonna teach Evelyn here a thing or two."

"It's Phlegyas," the ghoul said quietly, reaching for his cigarettes regardless. He handed them to the slave along with his book of matches. "Good luck teaching her anything."

"_Chars_," she said, plucking the sticks from his hand. "Okay Evelyn. First lesson."

The vault-dweller looked at the woman with a wary glance. "If this lesson is about trusting-"

Rabbit snorted. "Trusting? Fuck that shit. Here." She offered a cigarette out to Evelyn.

Evelyn shook her head. "No, thanks."

"This is the lesson!" Rabbit said with her mocking smile. "Take it, Evelyn."

"No!" Evelyn could see where this might be heading.

"Fuck sake... Look. This isn't going to hurt. Unless you want it to." A wink. "Take the damn cigarette."

Evelyn thought briefly about how she was quite possibly the only person in the world who could be bullied into something by a slave – _her _slave, no less – but she sighed, resigned, and plucked the cigarette from the woman's hand. "Fine. Now what."

Rabbit flashed a smile. "Put it between your lips." The vault dweller complied, hesitantly. Rabbit then struck a match and cupped it with her free hand. She raised the match to the cigarette, watching the flame light the tip. "Breathe in, honey."

Evelyn inhaled through her nose, causing Rabbit to snort with derision. "No, breathe in through the cigarette."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, but did as she was told.

The cigarette was quickly ejected from Evelyn's lips, followed by a hacking, spluttering cough. The woman bent double, desperate to clear the smoke from her lungs.

Despite himself, the ghoul chuckled. Rabbit just offered a smirk and put her hand on her hips.

"See?"

It took Evelyn a minute to fully recover, her body trembling. "What the fuck..." she managed, between coughs.

"Don't trust anybody." Another smirk. Yet another wink.

Evelyn's fists tightened into balls. "I asked you if this was about trusting-"

"And you _believed _me?" Laughed the slave, incredulously. "Fuck! It's a good job you didn't trust the first person you met out here, otherwise you'd be worse off than me!"

A sudden silence fell over Evelyn, Rabbit and Phlegyas then. The ghoul tried to keep his own smirk from his face, but failed.

Evelyn noticed, but refused to be drawn in. "What's your point?" she eventually asked, her face flushed.

Rabbit's mouth fell open slowly, her eyes widening. "Oh... my... GOD! You DID trust the first person, didn't you! You trusted Flemmy here, and you're still alive?"

Evelyn regained as much composure as she could, her face still flushed with embarrassment. How many times would she be called on her naiveté? Would she ever get to a level where she didn't feel like a fool every time she opened her mouth?

Rabbit's laughing didn't last long. "Evelyn, you've got to understand something. If this guy here was the first person you met after God-knows how long underground, and he saw you were unarmed, and he didn't have you tied up and triple-teamed, or skinned alive, or sold, or eaten for fucks sake, then maybe you're the most fucking lucky person I ever met."

Evelyn could hear the bitterness in the slave's voice, the anger and the repressed violence that she guessed would be directed fully toward her if she were not careful. Evelyn stayed silent for her own good.

"So," Rabbit continued, "he looked after you when you first came out, and he didn't have to. How much money did you give him?"

Evelyn exchanged an awkward glance with the ghoul.

"Oh come ON! Seriously? It cost you nothing?" Rabbit's voice was high-pitched now, and Phlegyas scrunched his eyes in response to the wail. "You get to spend, what? Sixteen? Eighteen? Eighteen years underground, safe and well fed, and the first guy you meet takes you in and protects you for nothing! I bet he just showered you with gifts, didn't he!"

The vault-dweller's gaze fell to the floor.

Rabbit stood with both her hands on her hips, her mouth aghast. "Really? Really. You're pissed at the guy because he earned a few caps for looking after you?"

Evelyn gritted her teeth. "He's endangered thousands of lives."

Rabbit shrugged theatrically. "So? What the fuck do you care? You know any of these poor bastards?"

Evelyn sneered. "My friend Eddie was killed when I escaped."

"And that was his fault?"

The vault-dweller did not respond.

"Yeah," Rabbit barked. "Thought not."

A deep silence fell between the three then, each lost in their own thoughts. The vault-dweller, confused and frustrated. The slave, angry and bitter. The ghoul, an ambivalence of guilt and vindication.

It must have been a few minutes before Rabbit spoke again, her voice far softer than before.

"Go easy on them."

Evelyn frowned once she realised that Rabbit had been speaking to her. About to ask, she took another drag of the cigarette-

-and stopped. When had she picked that back up? Why was she still smoking these horrible things?

"Addictive, aren't they," the woman added.

Evelyn nodded, solemnly, before the ghoul jumped up in alarm.

"Shit!"

The two women stared at him.

"Come on, let's move, let's go!" He spoke hurriedly, grabbing Evelyn by the wrist.

"What?" the younger woman managed as she was dragged up from her seat, the remains of her cigarette falling beneath her feet, before she suddenly saw them.

A group of fast-moving humans, or human-like beings, slouched over, running - _sprinting - _toward them across the muddy plain. At the distance they were, the three of them had under a minute before the creatures were upon them.

"Don't we stay and fight?" asked Evelyn with some alarm as she was pulled along by the ghoul.

"Not with your fuckin' aim we don't!" he shouted back. "'And we're being hunted from all sides!"

The three of them started to run for their lives, the soft ground sinking beneath their feet as they ran as fast as they could.

**END OF CHAPTER 7**


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Fallout, Adventure, Sci-Fi