After a long day of walking, Amber caught sight of a ruined house. The skeletal remains provided scant protection, but any cover was better than none at all. She cautiously entered the dilapidated structure, looking for anything that might try to kill her. The house was empty, with a contented smile she set her pack down at the bottom of a small crater. It was almost like a natural fox hole, large enough for her and possibly a fire. One side was backed by one of the few remaining walls, bone white in the afternoon sun. She nimbly jumped into the hole, crouching, she was pleased to find it deep enough to hide her from view.

Standing, she looked at her surroundings, trying to find some brush to start a fire. A little distance from her camp she found a long dead tree, it's black and twisted limbs reaching for the cerulean sky. Bracing one foot against the charred trunk, she gripped one of the lower limbs. With a grunt of pain, she wrenched the branch away, the brittle wood splintering from her pull. Amber hefted the limb onto her good shoulder, adjusting her stance under it's weight. On her way back to the house, she bent down to snap up some of the dead brown grass that grew in clumps all over the wastes. Supplies in hand, Amber set to work making a fire.

---

Night settled over the wastes like a dazzling blanket of stars. Unlike a blanket however; night in the wastes was bitter cold and unforgiving. Amber wasn't bothered by the cold, gifted as she was with excellent circulation, her hands were actually warm and clammy. She wiped them on her pants to dry the sweat and resumed tending the now glowing embers. The play of light cast wicked shadows across the ghostly walls, bringing back haunting memories of other nights in other places, places where Amber dared not stop to sleep. Taking the pack from her breast pocket, Amber lit up a cigarette. A terrible habit she knew, but safer than alcohol, at least she could keep her wits about her when she smoked.

From where she sat on the hard packed earth, Amber pulled her pack closer to her. Opening it, she rummaged around in it's contents. She pulled out a Mirelurk cake and a bottle of Nuka-Cola. These were staples of her new diet, easy to find or make, and they kept well enough to carry. She unwrapped the paper covering the cake and placed it on an almost flat rock on top of the coals. While her dinner heated up, she opened the bottle of soda and stashed the cap in a pouch on her belt. Amber took a quick pull on the drink as she began to clean her guns. Not nearly as thorough as she was at home, she still managed to clean them enough to keep them in working order.

Putting the weapons back into their right places on her pack, Amber rolled her shoulder experimentally. There was a twinge of pain around her clavicle, and a residual soreness across her shoulder blade, but it would be alright. As usual, she really should have stayed in town a few days longer. Still, her arm would heal well enough on it's own, she just needed to take a little extra care.

Scooping up the Mirelurk cake she pulled it apart. Chewing pensively on the irradiated seafood, Amber took a mental look at her progress. She was about halfway to Rivet City, she should be there by late afternoon the next day. So long as everything went according to plan, Amber would make it to Underworld in two days. After scaving, and a little time set aside for unexpected events, she would be back in Megaton sometime late next week. Taking another absentminded swig of her soda, Amber idly wondered if the raiders had reoccupied the metro since her last trip to Underworld.

Finished with her meal, Amber turned down the volume of her Pip-boy. Reaching over to her pack, she un-strapped her sniper rifle and assembled it. Positioning herself on the earth bank around her camp, she gave the area one last sweep. Finding not so much as a Radroach, Amber collapsed the gun and stowed it away. After kicking some dirt on the last remaining embers of the fire, Amber unrolled her thin blanket. There was a subtle click as she turned off her Pip-boy and fell asleep.

---

Giving her equipment one last check, she scaled an exposed section of framework and perched on the ruined roof with her sniper rifle. Focusing her eye on the scope, she scanned the area. The wind rushed past her, whipping her unbound burgundy hair into a frenzy. Everything looked clear, there were no signs of hostiles along the horizon in any direction. She knew her position was dangerous, but she also knew that no one carried anything with the range to hit her.

Still, being up there reminded her of how careless she'd become. She still felt a dull throb of pain in her leg from that bear trap. Still had the scars from bullet wounds she'd hastily treated, still had hearing loss in her left ear from that grenade. She forced those memories down and continued her scan. There was nothing, finally satisfied, she climbed down and grabbed her gear. Making sure the camp was clear, Amber headed south-east.

The trek to Rivet City wasn't exactly hard now, but it was long, and dangerous. As she came up over the rise she saw the D.C. Ruins spread out below her. The view was stunning and she took a moment to herself to enjoy it. After spending so many years in a vault, she was always taken aback by the surreal beauty of the wastes. The morning sun was bright as she descended the hill towards the ruined capital.

Trying to stay off the remaining roads, she instead made a beeline to Rivet City. She'd have to swim a good bit of the way when she got to the river, to avoid the Super mutants. She really didn't want to deal with them, she'd had one too many close calls recently. Thinking ahead she checked her carried supply of Rad-X and RadAway. She had enough to last her the trip, she'd planned on the swim. There was a soft click as the turned on the radio of her Pip-boy, Three Dog should have had a new story to tell by then.

"Greetings boys and Girls, it's me Three Dog! And now it's time for some news. There's a little settlement up north by the name of Canterbury Commons. Well get this, it seems that the one and only lone wanderer from vault one-oh-one has done it again. That's right children, she saved the town from a couple of costumed whack jobs called the Mechanist and the AntAgonizer. I know, I know, believe me, I couldn't make this shit up if I tried! And now on to some music!" he crackled excitedly over the airwaves. His story was followed by "way back home".

She couldn't help but smile at his excited ranting about her. Not because of him though, but because she knew in her heart that Gob was listening to the radio at that exact moment. She'd have to tell him all about it when she got home no doubt. She just hoped that she was fighting enough of the good fight for the both of them. Then again, there were plenty of wasters who clung to her stories like the last shred of humanity left in this colossal shit of a world. It had never been her intention to become some sort of savior to these poor bastards, things had just worked themselves out that way. Still, it was too late to do anything about it now, Amber had found herself famous one day. And that was that.

Crouching next to the rocky bank of the river, Amber popped a Rad-X and slid into the irradiated currant. She pushed her pack in front of her, she'd worked hard to make it waterproof. It was a little hard to swim in her armor, but if the Mutants spotted her she'd need it, and fast. As she got closer to the opposite shore she saw a Centaur patrolling the bank.

She backed up and continued swimming around the Jefferson monument. It was strange to see it with all of the catwalks and pipes, she was pretty sure those hadn't originally been there. The shallows had been hard enough, but in deeper water Amber was having real difficulty staying afloat. She heard a Super mutant shout in the distance and doubled her effort. Her legs were burning as she swam, she could feel a cramp coming on. A shot whizzed over her head and she dived, the water burned her eyes but she continued onward. Weighed down by her pack and armor, Amber found it difficult to swim.

Bullets streaked through the water, stopped just short of her head. She needed air, and was having trouble keeping her eyes open. Surfacing for only a moment, she took a ragged breath, but it was long enough. A bullet grazed her arm and the water quickly turned red. She dived again and swam for shore with long sweeping kicks. Surfacing again for air, Amber saw that the mutants had left her for dead, she sighed and continued swimming for shore.

A rocky outcrop of land separated Rivet city from the rest of the river, she scrabbled up the incline and collapsed. Gasping for breath, She looked towards the monument. The mutants were blissfully unaware of her, Amber was thankful but she could feel a good talking to coming on. Flack and Shrapnel would be pissed, she didn't even want to think about how Gob would take it.

Taking a RadAway from her pack she downed the contents of the bag. Her hands were covered in blood and shaking , her left arm burned. She looked at the wound, not too bad, but worse than she'd hoped. Taking a roll of bandages out of her bag she injected the limb with a Stimpak. It took only a moment to bandage the cut, but she cursed herself anyway. Feeling the Stimpak take effect, she flexed her left hand experimentally. She'd need to see a doctor, Amber knew a lot about first aid, more than most wasters anyway; but there was only so much she could do by herself.

It had been a stupid idea to swim around the mutants. She could have handled them on land, if she'd gone to Underworld first she could have avoided them entirely. She'd been reckless, it had been a stupid idea. Taking a moment to catch her breath, she grabbed her pack and headed off. Rivet City was to her right, she stayed off of the road until she got to the tower. Scaling the stairs took a lot out of her, one RadAway hadn't been enough, she felt tired. Amber numbly felt blood sliding down her arm from the wound. The firefight had caused them to close the bridge, not surprising but still aggravating.

"it's Amber, extend the bridge please." she said flatly into the intercom, she had to force the fatigue and annoyance out of her voice. Harkness waved and the bridge swung over the gap. She crossed quickly and greeted him with a curt nod. He gave her the once over and noticed the already blood soaked gauze wrapped around her upper arm. That reluctant concern crossed his features for a moment, she sighed.

"that was you?" he asked harshly indicating the direction she'd just come from. She nodded hastily, too tired to talk. Her breath came in heavy gasps, she was soaked and bleeding badly. Her hair and armor were coated with mud and the dust clung to her more than usual. The haphazardly bandaged wound hadn't been cleaned, he could see how cloudy the blood looked as it mixed with the dirt inside the gash. Harkness gave her one last look and then gestured to another one of the guards.

"Take her to the clinic. now." he hissed and took a step back. She nodded gratefully and followed the guard into the stairwell.

---

It would take a few days for the wound to heal, her arm was heavily bandaged and in a sling. That meant she was going to be late getting home. She didn't want to think about it, she didn't want to think about him. Gary's Galley didn't feel like home, but she sat at the bar anyway. She ordered another shot of whisky, Gary glanced at her for a moment as he passed the glass her way. She sighed and downed the shot.

"Don't look at me like that Gary, I know it was reckless." she sighed exasperatedly. There was a twinge of concern in his features, but not enough to trouble her. Something on the stove behind him started to boil, he took a moment to tend to it.

"It was an honest mistake Amber, anyone could have made it." he replied passing the bowl of noodles to Flak, who'd sat next to her. She shook her head vehemently, they wouldn't understand. Flak leaned over and laid a friendly hand on her shoulder.

"Look kid, at least you aren't dead right?" he offered casually, his tone was tinted with concern as well. She knew he didn't mean it, he was probably more worried about her than anyone else. Still, she gave him a slight smile and took his words with stubborn grace. She wasn't sure how it had happened, but wound up thinking of Flack and his partner Shrapnel like older brothers. They always looked out for her, always had advice and words of wisdom to share.

"Yeah, but I still feel awful about it. I know how you and Shrapnel worry about me… Oh, and I'm sorry I haven't been to visit in a while…" she said quietly, paying her tab she made to get up. Flack followed suit and gave her a playful punch on her 'good' arm. She smiled and let out a dry chuckle, little could drag her out of her self loathing. Flack was determined, he gave her a long look.

"look… I get it, if you're so worried about your safety why not hire a body guard?" he said bluntly. The idea had never occurred to her, because it usually meant a trip to see Eulogy Jones. She began to shake her head but he interrupted her.

"it doesn't need to be a slave, there are plenty of mercs around who'd do it." he answered her unvoiced reply. She had a brief, painful memory of the Talon Company who'd been chasing her down since she'd crawled out of the vault. They were showing up less frequently than before, but they still showed up eventually. He knew that look in her eye, He'd seen it before. Amber gestured with her head and they left Gary's Galley, heading for his shop.

She collapsed onto the old couch, like so many times before. It was time for a Powwow, these happened occasionally when she needed someone to talk to and was too far from home to see Gob. He sat in the rickety chair across from her and Shrapnel joined her on the couch. He looked her over and an expression of deep concern crossed his face, probably because of her arm. She tried to shrug, but with both of her shoulders injured, it hurt too much to move.

"What's on your mind kid?" Shrapnel asked, lighting up a cigarette. She pulled out her own and joined him. She still remembered their first Powwow. She'd just blown in to Rivet City after a raid in D.C. and had plenty of stuff to sell. She'd been reckless that day and was pretty beaten up. Shrapnel had been the first to notice that it was more emotional than physical. He and Flak had sat her down and gave her a good talking to about being fucking responsible for herself. It was the first time anyone had shown that they actually worried about her, other than Gob that is.

"I was stupid today. I tried to swim around the Super mutants across the river and wound up getting shot. I try to be careful… I know you guys worry about me. Now with this-" she lifted her heavily bandaged arm. "- I'll be late getting back to Megaton. …he hates it when I'm late. And I still need to get to Underworld before I can go back." she said, nothing was secret in a Powwow. She'd told them about Gob, about their strange friendship, they'd done what she assumed older brothers do, they worried.

"I suggested that she try and find a body guard." Flak said, bringing Shrapnel up to speed. He nodded thoughtfully for a moment. If they were her brothers, Shrapnel would be the oldest, he just seemed… wise. Amber would have never guessed they would have that type of relationship. Flack was nice enough, for Flack anyway, but Shrapnel had been downright surly. Still, he knew what was what and had told her so.

"That's a good Idea, but there's not many people out there you can trust, you know? Ain't nothing worse than trusting someone who'll stab you in the back first chance they get." He said after another moment. She nodded slightly, true enough, she needed someone she could trust, the dream and it's implications began to creep out from the back of her mind.

"I can handle myself, you know that. But sometimes I do wish there was someone with me to watch my back." she said in that barely over loud way she'd adopted since the grenade. They made sure she was looking at them when they talked, nothing was secret from a Powwow. It hadn't taken her long to learn how to read lips, and she could still hear perfectly in her right ear. Still, they tried their best to accommodate for her disability. She hated that word, she could still snipe a feral from fifty yards with just a 10mm.

And they knew that.

"I think it's a good idea, but you gotta know what your getting yourself into." Flack said carefully. She nodded slightly, they were right, they were always right. She put out her cigarette in the ashtray and looked inside for a moment. This was a pretty steep truth she was dealing with.

'Could I really ask someone to join me? Could I really ask someone to be responsible for my life?' She thought for a moment. Shrapnel picked it up, he always picked up her moods. He put a friendly hand on her shoulder and lowered his voice a little, serious business.

"if you do get a body guard, remember: you are as responsible for their safety as they are for yours. You gotta trust each other with your lives. That's a big deal out there, that's the deal out there." He said with such conviction that she could never argue. She knew he was right, that's why she revealed so much to them. They were people like her, made some mistakes sure, but they knew what was right.

"I'll think on it on my way to Underworld. If anything turns up I'll let you know." She said with a finality that ended the Powwow. Satisfied that the message had been received they relaxed. She stayed for a while, until the market closed at least. Conversation with them was easy, they liked to listen to her. They talked about nothing in particular, and she regaled them with the story of Canterbury Commons. When it was time to file out of the market they parted ways, She would have to stay for a few days until her arm healed. Still, She'd given herself an extra week, but the way things were going she had a nagging feeling that she would be late.

---

The decrepit tunnel walls were comforting. Amber stalked along the walkway with an effortless grace she only seemed to have underground. The pale glow of her Pip-boy danced over the rubble and derailed metro cars. She settled into a crouch as she came upon a fork in the tunnel. Checking her map she followed the path towards The Mall. At this rate, she'd be in Underworld well before nightfall.

She continued along slowly, making her footsteps at quiet as possible and turning off her light whenever she heard a noise. Checking her map again Amber sighed, utility tunnels. Great. Looking carefully around the corner, she broke into a quiet run for the door. Those tunnels would take her close to Museum Station. Once inside the metal corridor she crouched and pressed herself into the wall. The harsh overhead lights blinded her for a moment as she turned off the light on her Pip-boy.

There were surprisingly little hostiles in the tunnels, mostly ferals and mole rats. Taking a moment to reload her 10mm, she glanced around the corner. Raiders. There were three of them that she could see. They looked relatively green, only one of them seemed to be keeping watch. She crouched and took aim at the watchman, from this angle she could see that he was the only one with a gun. A quick squeeze of the trigger and she fired a round into his forehead. He slumped over the sandbag barricade, the other two took arms and glanced around.

She holstered her pistol and stealthily grabbed her Assault Rifle, hanging by her waist thanks to the tactical harness. Amber could hear the raiders creeping closer to her position, she was ready. The first raider poked his head around the corner and she fired, it struck him between the eyes and he toppled. She flew around the corner and fired a barrage into the remaining raider, she crumpled after a moment.

Amber heard footsteps coming towards her fast from a hallway to her right. She pressed herself into the wall alongside the opening and reloaded her rifle. The footsteps slowed as they drew closer, he'd probably seen the other's bodies. Halfway down the hallway the footsteps stopped, she held her breath. Amber had been in worse situations, but the bone chilling fear she felt just before the rush of the fight always got to her. Slowly, she counted to three.

In a flash she was standing and around the corner. Several rounds of fire erupted from the muzzle of her rifle and embedded itself in the unsuspecting raider. His face contorted into a silent scream as he died. She quietly stepped over the body, taking a brief look at his ruined chest. Pure adrenaline pounded through her veins as she broke into a stealthy run. A doorway branched off to the left, she ducked by the wall and reloaded. She could hear at least four people inside the small room. There were footsteps, a chough, and a laugh, and the telltale sound of someone taking Jet. The dank corridor was only illuminated by the flickering light of a fire from the adjacent room. She could see shadows, twisted and bizarre, cast on the opposite wall.

This could be easy, she realized in a flash. Quietly she reached into her pack and removed her silenced 10mm. Checking the magazine, she prepared to move. The footsteps from the room stopped suddenly and she could hear weapons being drawn. Her muscles tensed and she froze, pressing herself into the wall. She mentally cursed herself and tried to blend into the shadows.

"what was that?" she heard a male voice say quietly. His macabre shadow danced on the wall across from her. The corroded metal gave it a hellish texture, something she would see in her nightmares that night no doubt. He took one clumsy step forward, he'd been drinking.

"you're hearing things again, you're drunk." said a smartass female voice from further in the room. Amber could see his shadow swivel and face the unseen speaker. He laughed loudly and she watched his shadow stumble away. Every nerve in her body was alert, her veins throbbed with adrenalin. She fought to control her breathing, fought to keep herself still. Taking a chance, Amber peered around the corner. She was right, four.

Planning her shots, she went through the scenario in her head, it took only a moment. After crouching for what seemed like an eternity, her muscles screamed into action as she rushed around the corner. Her movements were a blur, four shots were fired, four raiders were dead. She wasn't sure in which order they had died, she didn't care. Looking behind her she looted the bodies and the room around her. She left the armor, only taking weapons and ammo. Scanning the room she grabbed the stash of chems, she would be able to sell them somewhere in Underworld.

After backtracking to strip the other raiders, she ran the rest of the way to underworld. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the confined metal corridor, her heart was pounding fast. She stopped at a doorway and checked her map, this was it. Opening the door she was brought back into the dingy underground. The tracks were half buried in rubble and she could see fires in the distance. She padded along the tunnel and crouched where the opening met the boarding platform.

A quick scan with her sniper rifle showed no signs of life. The ramshackle barricades were abandoned and seemed ghostly in the flickering light of the fires. Makeshift walkways had been laid along the top of a defunct train, there should have been a sentry there at least. Yet there was not a living soul on the mezzanine or on the train. Amber let out a sigh and strapped the rifle to her pack. Still cautious, she ran, half crouched, towards the ancient stairs to the mezzanine. She emerged from the underground right outside the Museum of History. The afternoon sunlight temporarily blinded her.

---

As usual, she strode into Underworld with a friendly smile and kind word for every resident. She'd gone into the outer bathrooms in the Museum and changed out of her bloodstained armor, into her hoodie, pants and boots. She greeted Winthrop with a firm handshake and twenty pieces of scrap. When no one was looking she used one of her newly acquired bags of RadAway. Dr. Barrows was happy to fix her up better than she could manage herself. Then she sold whatever gear she'd scrounged off the raiders to Tulip.

Finally she entered Carol's place and greeted the woman herself warmly. Taking the letter out of it's pocket, she gave it to Carol and stayed for some idle chat. Greta joined them briefly before going out for her nightly smoke. Thinking back to her last conversation with Gob, Amber turned to Carol for answers.

"When did Gob show up in Underworld?" she asked lightly gripping a bottle of Nuka-Cola. Carol smiled whimsically while thinking of the answer.

"oh probably thirty years ago… why do you ask?" Her motherly nature eased Amber more than any amount of booze.

"No reason, I was talking to him about… you know… before. He told me he'd been in the Navy." the smile of motherly pride that adorned Carol's face was enough to say that she knew. Amber stayed for a little while longer, chatting about nothing in particular. Still, she had business to finish, so she said her goodbyes and left.

Amber had never used chems, but she'd pick them up to sell them in town for a big boost of caps. After talking to Snowflake, she found out that Ahzrukhal in the 9th Circle was the man to see about chems. The decrepit bar was on the mezzanine overlooking the rest of Underworld, she'd really never been inside. Amber did most of her business at Carol's so she really never felt the need. Upon entering she instantly knew why she preferred Carol's. One corner of the establishment was taken up by the bar, one by a particularly grim looking ghoul. Every other corner was filled with the various patrons and junkies who frequented the bar.

The light was dim, with all of the junkies lying around she guessed it was purposely dimmed. Her demeanor shifted into Paradise Falls, tough as nails with a hint of "don't fuck with me". The solitary Ghoul in the corner fixed his cold gaze on her, she tried to stare him down. Amber didn't like to be watched, the longer anyone stared at her, the sooner they could see under her front.

There was something about his stare, he was trying to see through her. He was trying to get beneath her mask and see what she was all about. Amber had never come across another reader before, someone like her. She had no trouble reading others emotions, but she'd never tried to read a reader. A smirk broke across his face, he knew. How much he knew she wasn't sure, but he knew enough to make her uncomfortable. She turned away from him and sat down at the bar. Ahzrukhal leaned on the damaged counter and gave her the once over.

"I've never seen you here before. Welcome to the Ninth Circle, what can I get for you?" he said casually. Amber ordered a shot of whisky to open up the dialogue. She didn't like the way he was looking at her, it almost made her like Moriarty. He was sleazy to say the least, and there was a well hidden hunger in his look. Amber had caught it though, enough to suddenly feel sick. She lowered her voice enough so that only he could hear.

"Snowflake said you were the one to see about chems." she answered quietly. He grinned wickedly, no doubt thinking she was a junkie too.

"Here to buy?" he asked in that sickeningly casual tone. She laughed, it was hoarse and raspy from smoking.

"Not hardly, I'm here to sell. With all these junkies around I'm sure you won't say no to a little more in the way of… inventory." she said with a knowing smile. He nodded slightly and she sold him the chems she'd picked up. He gave her barely what they were worth in caps. She didn't particularly care though, this was just some caps on the side. Still, she could feel that one Ghoul staring at her. A chill ran up her spine and she shifted in her seat.

"what's up with that guy in the corner?" She asked softly, Ahzrukhal perked up slightly.

"Charon? He's a… loyal employee." he replied carefully. The subtle hint of apprehension in his voice told her that there was more to the story, but he didn't seem the type to pry. She nodded thoughtfully for a moment, and against her better judgment, pressed him for more.

"what exactly do you mean 'loyal employee"?" She asked casually. He glanced at her sharply.

"let's just say that he was raised by a… peculiar group of individuals. You could say that they… brainwashed him, in a sense. Charon is blindly loyal to whomever holds his contract, which at the moment happens to be me. As his employer he will do whatever I say, whenever I say. Unfailing, unflinching, until the day that employment ends. Don't mess with me, and he won't mess with you." he explained in the overly accentuated way of someone talking to a child, or someone of lesser intelligence.

Amber fought the urge to draw her weapon. It wouldn't have been the first time she'd had to shoot someone for mouthing off to her. Her hand had made it's way to just over her waist when she stopped herself. She could feel the steely glare of Charon fix on her hand, she really didn't want to know what it felt like through the sights of his shotgun. Relaxing her hand she beat down her anger enough to get it out of her voice. Returning her attention to Ahzrukhal, she noticed that he seemed scared. Good. Maybe now he wouldn't take that tone with her again.

"Where might someone find a… loyal employee, like Charon?" she asked, subtly throwing an offer into the question. He picked it up immediately and a smile spread across his face.

"Ah, not anywhere around here I'm afraid. This group lived further up north, you'd have to make a pretty lengthy trek to get there, and then there'd be the price. To procure one of their… contracts costs a hefty sum of caps." he said lacing it with his return offer. Amber nodded again and thought about it.

"How much would you say?" she asked laying the deal out for him.

"Oh for an employee of Charon's caliber… I'd say about two thousand caps." he replied languidly. That was a hefty sum indeed, more than she had on her at the moment anyway. She nodded slightly thinking of a few places she could scav for the caps. Ahzrukhal noticed her hesitation and raised his voice just enough to bruise her pride.

"Too rich for your blood eh? Well I suppose a clever girl like you could find the caps somewhere." He said in an openly mocking tone. Amber stiffened and threw the paltry sum for the drink onto the bar. With one last calculating glance at Charon she walked out of the 9th circle and left underworld shortly after.

Two thousand caps was a lot. Sure, if she didn't buy anything for repairs or any ammo she could have it in a day, but to stay alive, and to get some better equipment for Charon, she'd need at least twice that. She'd need to get him completely reequipped in order for him to be of any use to her. She'd also need to get the spare room ready in Megaton, but these were things she needed to do regardless of whether she bought his contract or not. Really, taking on a bodyguard was a lot more complicated than Amber had originally thought. And vastly more expensive. She pondered the logistics of the venture as she headed out of the museum, back to Megaton.

---

In his darkened corner, Charon shifted uneasily against the wall. She was talented, he'd have to give her that. It had taken him quite a while to see through her, yet had only taken moments to decide that a smirk was the best way to unnerve her. It had worked too, his well placed half smile was enough to make her turn away. Just in the nick of time too, he could tell she was getting close to seeing through him. just as well that she didn't know about him, Charon had a hunch that she wouldn't be able to handle it. Not to say that he couldn't feel anything, but the feelings he did possess were none to pretty. Charon hadn't come across anyone who could see through him in a long, long time.

Ahzrukhal seemed pretty shaken up after watching the smoothskin reach for her gun. With his keen hearing, he hadn't missed a word of their "subtle" conversation. The girl was looking to buy his contract, while Charon knew that his current employer was -for some reason- trying to rid himself of it, he knew that Ahzrukhal wouldn't let it go cheap. The next few weeks would prove to be interesting, of that he was sure. Whether or not she actually came back that is. She could always come across some other form of protection while out in the wastes. Charon resigned himself to wait and see how things played out. Again he shifted against the wall, the spot worn down to the brickwork from years of his shifting.