Another Unoriginal Oneshot Book

Partners

The Capital Wasteland, 2277.
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The subway tunnel lay still and silent, save for two rhythms of breath.

Charon had quickly learned three things about Aniss.

First, she was a child. This was what had thrown him off when he'd observed her in the Ninth Circle; he had never met a child so old. She was nineteen, she said. Legionaries were long considered adults by then — in his former life, Charon had already been married. Her health and demeanor proved she'd had a pampered upbringing, allowing her to cling to this dependent innocence she now held. That made Charon the babysitter.

They had cleared the area well and camped behind a chain link fence and an apparatus of machinery he couldn't name. She'd set an array of rusted cans in the path to alert them if they were approached in the night.

The second thing he'd learned was that Aniss was GNR's vault kid. He'd realized this once she'd mentioned that she was looking for her father — another function of her childishness. It wasn't just family loyalty spurring her on, but a complete lack of the self-authority to do anything without him. Of course, Charon had no room to criticize.

If Three Dog's reports were to be believed, which they usually were, that made Aniss some sort of hero. The beam of light from her wrist gave him little to go off of, but he could almost see it in her face. She was alert, diplomatic, well-meaning. Maybe the type to defuse a bomb or stop a kidnapping. Charon had enjoyed mercenary work before, but he fostered a healthy skepticism of the situation.

They had both finished eating awhile ago. She was still reading the contract. The marks it bore from the past made his tattered skin crawl. She was either memorizing the terms, struggling with the faded handwriting, or just waiting for him to go to bed. If it was the latter, they would both be disappointed; he was on duty until his employer either slept or ordered him to.

He hadn't gotten a wink of sleep last night. Resting horizontally was unfamiliar after so long, and it left him feeling exposed and defensive. He'd spent the night scanning the skyline and watching Aniss breathe. Maybe if she ordered him to bed first, it would help, but he wasn't sure how to broach the subject properly. Decorum would be important, a clean slate, and speaking out of turn felt weirdly inappropriate. So she carried on not looking at him.

The third piece of information Charon had learned was that Aniss was afraid of him. Any number of factors could have caused this: He was a ghoul and she was a sheltered, pristine vaultie. Despite their relatively small age difference, she was still a girl, and he was a grown man. She wasn't used to having a traveling companion, and certainly not to giving orders. Probably the most significant thing was that Charon had recently slaughtered her predecessor before her eyes.

While he hadn't necessarily meant to intimidate his new employer with the show he'd put on, it was an added bonus. Finally, a grasp of the leverage he'd always lacked — one step out of line, and she'd someday be just another mural on the wall. It wasn't true, of course; only a combination of happenstance and Ahzrukhal's carelessness had allowed Charon his vengeance, and any amount of precaution would prevent him from repeating it at the contract's next transfer. Anyway, he wasn't as vindictive as she seemed to imagine. A mountain of injustices had merited Ahzrukhal's death sentence. Childish as she was, he wasn't sure Aniss was even capable of arousing enough of his wrath for an execution. Maybe a firm smack on the head. Still... he'd been blindsided before.

Aniss looked up to see her bodyguard staring from the darkness. She jumped in alarm, then turned the light on him.

"You scared me."

"You have nothing to fear from me."

She forced a smile. "Thanks."

He hadn't done anything worth thanking, but if stating the obvious brought her comfort, then so be it. He had plenty to fear from her, but he didn't tell her that. She would know soon enough.