Another Unoriginal Oneshot Book

Treacherous

Underworld, 2275.
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They will never take you from me, my light! Don't be afraid. We are free tonight!

Feels good to rule the wastes, Red. You should try it some

Do you take this woman

Maybe you'll sit and sigh, wishing that I were near...

feel like honesty, industry, AND prudence is a bit much to ask from us. Pick one or two and

How much is that doggie in the window~?

Congratulations, Gabriel. Your training is complete.

Master... Master, please...

Charon.

He'll have... your nose. My eyes. Your hair, if we're lucky

...and maybe, I'll say, 'maybe'...

Call me Aud

Open the door

Master, help me!

"Charon."

He awoke with a start, dragging stale oxygen into ragged lungs. The action lanced sharp pain through his body, every cell clamoring to inform him that something was very wrong.

Ahzrukhal frowned at the dying man on his bed for a second longer, then continued. "You overslept. Night patrons will start arriving any minute and I won't have your sorry corpse making them uncomfortable."

It was cruel, and accurate, and Charon could do little but stare in response. Ahzrukhal challenged the eye contact and made him blink away.

"Eat quickly and get down to the clinic. Don't bother Doctor Barrows."

Charon dragged himself up and to the corner table to force down the food laid out for him. The contract required his employers to feed him — a shame "properly" was deemed too complicated an addition for the illiterate young slave to memorize, or he would still have been blowing up mole rats. His aching muscles and lurching stomach raged against him as he ate.

He became aware of Ahzrukhal studying him, though fever complicated his definition of "awareness." The ghoul frowned studiously. "You'd better either die or become useful quickly."

Charon couldn't guess which would come first, but he had a preference.

-

He sat silently on the examination table, averting his eyes and sparing no mental effort to be anywhere but here. If the doctor had expressed concern at his apparent lack of mental capacity, it never reached him. Only Ahzrukhal's commands broke through his subconscious, and even those were swiftly forgotten.

Charon resented Doctor Barrows for trying to keep him alive. The chore mostly consisted of checking his vitals and telling him to drink water. Charon didn't really care to do anything anymore, given the option, but the doctor persisted.

Despite his best efforts not to listen, a sentence stood out in the two ghouls' conversation. Charon wet his lips. "What did you say?"

Barrows tapped his clipboard pensively. "I said you seemed to have passed the point of no return."

"...Had I not already?"

The doctor shook his head at the clipboard. "No, no. You're not a ghoul, just a very sick human. But it's only a matter of time now. It's the cartilage that marks the —"