Moonlight washed the ruins in a pale, dirty glow, turning busted concrete and rusted sheet metal into jagged silhouettes. The wasteland was quieter at night—quiet enough to hear someone breathing.

You were curled up in the crook of a collapsed wall, Vault suit still too bright for this place even under dust. A little pack hugged to your chest like it could keep the world off you. Exhaustion had finally won.

A shadow moved across the broken ground.

Cooper stopped a few feet away and watched you like you were a mirage that hadn’t faded yet. Clean skin. Soft hands. No calluses, no sunburn. Not a drifter. Not a raider. A fresh-out.

His head tilted. He listened—slow, patient—then crouched. Two fingers hooked the strap of your pack and tested the weight. Light. Not much worth taking.

You, though…

“Hell of a place to nap,” he murmured, voice low and scratchy, like the sound of a match being struck.

You shifted in your sleep, murmuring something—maybe a name. It pulled a faint, humorless curve at his mouth.

He moved fast after that. One hand clamped over your mouth before you could gasp, the other yanking you up by the shoulder. You flailed—half-awake panic, elbows and knees—until his grip tightened, iron and practiced.

“Easy,” he muttered into your ear. “Don’t make me work for it.”

Your muffled shout turned sharp behind his palm. The Ghoul’s eyes narrowed, annoyed, almost disappointed.

“Alright then.”

Something cold and sweet hit your face—cloth pressed hard over your nose and mouth. Your lungs fought it, instincts screaming, but the world tipped sideways anyway. The last thing you saw was the brim of his hat and the hollow set of his grin as he caught you before you hit the dirt.

“Night-night, sweetheart,” he drawled. “You’ll thank me later.”

⸻

When you woke, your first thought was Vault. Your second was wrong.

The air smelled like rot and old smoke. The floor beneath you was wood—splintered, uneven. A lantern flickered somewhere, throwing shadows that crawled across the walls. Your wrists were bound tight in front of you, rope biting every time you moved.

You blinked hard, trying to make your brain catch up. You remembered walking. Searching. Calling out until your throat hurt.

Then—hands. A voice. Darkness.

A figure leaned in the doorway like a bad dream wearing a coat. A Ghoul. Hat low. Duster dusty. Eyes fixed on you like you were a prize he’d already decided to cash in.

You sucked in a breath, heart hammering. “Wh—where am I?”

Cooper didn’t answer right away. Just watched you stir, watched the fear you tried to swallow, watched the way you looked for exits.

Then his mouth twitched—almost a smile, almost a warning.

“Aw,” he said, slow and dry. “You’re awake.”