It had been a quiet night in Underworld. Cerberus's processors whirred quietly as the robot made its rounds about the ghoul lobby. Inside The Ninth Circle, Charon leaned against the wall and narrowed his eyes at nothing at all.

Bored. Bored bored bored. So bored. the ghoul groaned mentally. There hadn't been a single rowdy outburst in almost a week. After he had tossed Patches out, there had hardly been a voice in the place that was over a whisper. The dim drone of conversation threatened to put Charon to sleep.

A low growl of discontent rumbled through his chest. The sparse patrons cast nervous glances in the seven foot tall ghoul's direction, all used to his somewhat volatile nature. But they knew they were safe as long as Ahzrukhal didn't give him the go-ahead.

The door to the lobby creaked open, and a bundled-up figure slipped in. Ahzrukhal perked up noticeably, a smile creasing the leathery remainder of his facial skin.

"Well well, lookee here! We got us a smoothskin I've never seen before." Ahzrukhal rasped. "Welcome to The Ninth Circle, stranger. Take a seat and tell ol' Ahzrukhal your problems."

"I've heard quite a bit about you, Mr. Ahzrukhal." the stranger murmured. "What I need right now though, is vodka." He began rummaging in the large rucksack that had been slung across his back. "I have caps, of course. But I also have a few bottles of whiskey I'll gladly let you take off my hands."

Charon's eyebrows rose. Easy there smoothskin.

"This is good stuff. Where have you been scavenging, stranger?" Ahzrukhal wheezed, holding one of the bottles to the light.

The stranger shot the ghoul a quick grin from under the wide brim of his hat, pulling down a thick bandanna to do so. "That's for me to know and you to never figure out."

Ahzrukhal harrumphed, pouring the stranger his preferred poison as the man rebuckled his rucksack.

AN: First ever Fallout story, chapters will be short, but fast updates. Enjoy!