Roy Phillips considered himself to be one tough son of a bitch. You had to be, just to survive in the smoothskin infested hell hole known as the Capital Wasteland. He was a ghoul who could look death straight in the eye and spit in its face. One thing he hadn't counted on was it spitting back.

Roy wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead as he hobbled down the tunnel. He lurched forward and instinctively grasped at the walls with his decayed claw of a hand. Regaining his balance, he continued onwards, doing his best to ignore the white-hot agony lancing its way up his leg and the mounting sense of panic that was beginning to cloud his mind. They were dead. Every single one of them. Michael, Bessie, even the ferals. None of them had stood a chance. That smoothskin fucker had torn through them like some kind of demon.

And Roy was next.

Roy wasn't easily intimidated, but something about that freak chilled the ghoul to his very bones. He shook his head and allowed a low growl to escape through his gritted teeth. He'd be damned if he let some psychotic smoothskin have his way. If there was one thing Roy Phillips was good at, it was surviving.

He froze as his sensitive ears picked up the muted thud of a foot hitting concrete. The smoothskin was close. Roy's hand darted towards his assault rifle. If he was going down, he was going down in a blaze of glory. He took a deep breath and let his tattered eyelids droop. Every sense became heightened as he passed into a state of supreme alertness.

"If this bastard thinks I'm going down easy," muttered Roy under his breath.

Another faint thud.

"He's got another thing coming."

Another one, this time accompanied by a barely audible click. Roy's eyes snapped open. The bastard had just reloaded.

"See you in hell!"

Roy unleashed a primal roar as he whipped around, his rifle roaring to life. The tunnel was filled with bright flashes of light and the earsplitting clang of bullets rebounding off of the side of the train. Roy snarled as his rifle clicked empty. It could have been his imagination, but he swore he heard a dark chuckle coming from behind him. Roy span around and found nothing but a brick wall.

Feeling his heart pounding against his ribs, he grasped at his belt for a fresh clip, but found none. The ghoul snorted in disgust and threw the rifle to the ground. The weapon clattered to the conrete, the sound seemed deafening in the heavy silence that now filled the tunnel. Roy drew a knife from his belt and slashed it through empty air. His fate was sealed, but he was determined to give the smoothskin a lasting reminder of just who the hell Roy fucking Phillips was.

"Show yourself, you dirty smoothskin! Come out and fight!"

Roy's ears were suddenly overwhelmed by an immense explosion of sound and he found himself writhing on the ground, clutching at the bloodied stump which had once been his leg. A howl of agony leapt unbidden from the ghoul's maw before he snapped his jaws shut, stifling his cries. He looked up with glazed eyes to see the blurry outline of a man standing over him, shrouded by a pale light.

Roy shook his head, forcing his vision to clear and fixed the smoothskin with a baleful glare, getting a good look at the bastard who would undoubtedly end his life. A muddied trench coat obscured most of the smoothskin's body, though glimpses of what appeared to be combat armour could be seen through the ragged gashes that marred the cloth. The smoothskin stared down at Roy, his face illuminated by the flashlight clutched in his gloved hands. A tangled mop of dark hair obscured the man's face, but what could be seen was twisted into a triumphant grin.

"What are you waiting for? Get it over with," snarled the ghoul.

The smoothskin brushed a few strands of hair from his face and raised an eyebrow. He studied the ghoul for a moment, his brown eyes inquisitive. Roy was struck by how cold those eyes were, despite the smile that spread across the man's face.

"I just wanted to let you know, that I've got nothing against your kind. It's nothing personal, this is strictly business. Alistair Tenpenny pays well."

A gob of spit flew from Roy's mouth to splat against the man's coat. The man rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Look, I don't like this any more than you do. I don't want to kill you. If you were to make me a better offer than Tenpenny...."

Roy's eyes flashed and he let out a rasping bark of a laugh.

"Do I look like I can outbid Tenpenny?"

"I suppose not."

Fast as a snake, Roy's hand shot towards the smoothskin's leg, hoping to catch him by surprise. There was a flash of light and a bang. Roy roared and clutched the bloodied mess that had once been his hand to his chest. The smoking .44 Magnum disappeared into the folds of the smoothskin's coat as his eyes gleamed momentarily with what appeared to be amusement.

"You just had to make this difficult for yourself didn't you?"

"Go to Hell!"

There was a menacing hiss of cold steel as the smoothskin produced a sword from behind his back. The slender blade glinted in the dim glow produced by the flashlight. Roy's vision began to blur once more and he began to feel the strength fading from his limbs. A voice pierced through the thick fog that was beginning to cloud his mind.

"Any last words?"

With an effort, Roy managed to croak out an answer.

"Yeah...fuck...you."

"Not the most eloquent response, but I suppose it's what I should expect."

Roy watched the sword poised above his scalp with glazed eyes.

"I'll try to make this as painless as possible."

There was a flash of steel and Roy Phillips saw no more.