The Wild Wastelands | The Distant Past
Like 19 years ago or so... you do the math
Post Collaboration with [user]Neuromancer[/user]
The screams of the dying and wounded filled Charlotte's ears. She tasted blood in her mouth and when she touched her cheek, she found that something had created a rather large gash. Fire and the sound of fighting surrounded her and strangely enough, the ephemeral tone of an axe cutting through the helmet of a Raider, his screams cut short by the destruction of his brain stem.
The smoke cleared for the briefest of moments to reveal a ghoul, his long black hair matted in blood that was not his own but rather it belonged to the formerly living Raider whose skull Eddie was removing his axe from.
"E...Eddie? Why's my dad? Have you seen him?" Charlotte Sorrowfeld asked as she picked herself up from the burning remnants of what used to be a sort of Wasteland Wagon. Charlotte, in her 12 year old wisdom looked about for a weapon. Even at that age she knew that without one, she might as well have been dead.
Shotgun. Right. Perfect weapon for a kid that was built like a flagpole. She grabbed it anyways.
With his axe-guitar sitting on his shoulder, Eddie the Dead surveyed the smoke, ashes and blood around him. Things had definitely taken a turn to the interesting. Indeed, he was feeling rather lucky that this otherwise dull mercenary job had taken such a bloodthirsty turn.
He heard his name, and his grin turned cheeky.
"Eager, young, Charlotte," he called, amused, "Good to see your head and nethers are still intact!"
He walked up to her and took the shotgun from her hands, "Yer a bit too young to be using that, though. Fun though it'd be to see you pushed back like a rag doll, I don't think that would do good for my paycheck."
He took a better look at the shotgun. It looked to be in a good enough condition, and his last one was broken. "This could work..." he mused.
A raider rushed from behind Charlotte, ripper in hand, ready to tear the child apart. Without the hint of hurry or care, Eddie pointed the shotgun at him and shot, blowing his face and splattering blood all over the young girl's head and body. This worked, alright!
"Lookin' fer yer da?" he exclaimed amused, "Well, if wanna shoot people grab a pistol or somethin and let's go dad huntin'!"
The younger less bloody thirsty version of her future self appeared to be frozen, catatonic even. Being covered in blood and brain matter not to mention the remnants of someone's face usually did that to you if you weren't ready for it. It took a few repeated attempts and the placement of a weapon in Charlotte's hands to break her out of her stupor.
It was a knife. A simple combat knife with a serrated edge. The blade was carbon black and was already covered with blood. It was the type of weapon that was as quiet as it was painful. At the suggsestion of Daddy Hunting, Charlotte's mind thought that someoe had already beat them to this. It was strange though, that the raiders would strike out in the middle of no where. The route was typically patrolled by the Regulators looking to score a finger or two. In all her time traveling with her dad, she'd never even seen a Raider, let alone been attacked by a group of them,
"Alright." Charlotte said as she followed Dead through the smoke.
Eddie took a deep breath, his nostrils filling with the stench of blood and smoke. Most mercs would curse at the situation he was in. But not him. This was Luck smiling down on him. He had been growing bored of endlessly walking around on barren soil looking at endless swathes of even more barren soil, without anything exciting or at least interesting happening. He was even considering ditching the job, as he wasn't exactly running out of caps, but then the raiders hit and made his night.
"That knife ain't gonna help you much if yer alone with one of 'em fellas, but it's better than nothin'." he said as he studied the young Charlotte, who seemed to had finally snapped out of her trance. Kids these days. "Just stick behind me and ye'll be fine. I've faced packs of starvin' wild dogs more fearsome that these wimps."
As he said that, another raider, small in frame and slimmer than healthy, rushed him from behind. They never learn, do they? With a backhanded, circular one-handed swing, Eddie chopped off the raider's hand and landed the axehead on his side, effortlessly cutting through his leather armour and cleaving him in half. The raider's upper body circulated in the air, splattering blood everywhere, before landing on the ground, lifeless.
"See? What'd I tell ya?" he grinned again, throwing a glance at Charlotte, "S'all gonna be juuuust
fine." he said, and started walking forward.
It was no wonder that the carrion birds were circling over head. With as much blood as the Ghoul Merc had been chumming through the air, Charlotte was surprised that Eddie hadn't attracted an oceanic shark, not to be confused with the land bound variety. She had just managed to calm her queezy nerves when Mister the Dead had split the Raider's torso in two, a lazy loop of intestines uncurling as the Raider, still alive, flailed against the empty air, unable to control his body. The man screamed, his lungs still intact even though his legs weren't. He was as good as dead but that didn't mean that his screams weren't going to draw the attention of his friends. The young Charlotte pounced, her hand slashing downward at the Raider's exposed neck. Her only thought was to get him to stop screaming.
Her vision cleared after a moment, the realization that the Raider had stopped screaming dawned upon her a few seconds later as did the fact that her hand was in a tremendous amount of pain. Looking down, she saw that she was bleeding. Her palm was a network of cuts caused by her own knife slipping in her grip and cutting her even as she stabbed the Raider. The only thing that kept her from screaming in pain was the amount of adrenaline that was in her body, locking away the pain until it was safe for her to register it. Despite this, there was a certain amount of satisfaction derived from the knowledge that this Raider would never pick on another Caravan.
She regarded the Ghoul for a minute before looking at the silhouettes of the Raiders forming up behind him.
"Well now laddies. Looka what we got here." The Lead Raider hissed happily as he spotted young Charlotte, "You, Ghoul. Give us the girl and we'll let you go."
Charlotte held the knife in front of her, not knowing what Eddie would do.
Eddie stared at the leader with a bemused smile. How kind of him to give him a choice! He started counting heads. Sixteen- no, seventeen heads, including the leader. Eighteen, if you include the head the leader dude was holding, blood dripping down to the ground. A familiar face. Charles Sorrowfield. Never seen him so shocked before. Funny the faces people make post-death.
He turned to take a look at Charlotte. Aww, look at her, cut herself with the knife. A little early to be going through
that phase, isn't it? Holstering the shotgun, he got in a playing position and walked towards the child.
Effortlessly dodging her attempt at stabbing him, he lightly knee'd her in the stomach
*REEEOOOOOW*
She fell to the ground face-down, he rolled her over-
*REEEOOOOOW*
and stomped on her chest.
*REEEOOOOOW*
"Come and take her, then!"
"Don't mind me, I just feel like playing some fitting music for the occasion."
With a head notion, the leader ordered three of his men to approach. They did so rather slowly, not that Eddie complained; he had time to examine what they were equipped with: Eleven of them, including the three that were approaching, were equipped for close combat: rippers, pipes, crowbars, a large guy with a makeshift axe... Nothing to worry about. He's faced larger numbers in the past and got through fine.
The ranged boyz were gonna be a problem, though. Most of them were equipped with small firearms, 9mm pistols and a sub-machine gun, a dude with a flamer, and most importantly, a grenade launcher. That one would need to be taken care of ASAP. The head dog himself had an assault rifle, and from the way he was holding it, it looked like he knew how to use it.
Not all seemed so bad, though. Plenty of cover from ruined caravans and dead brahmin lay around. Not to mention how poor vision was, what with it being night and all the smoke, and his wearing black. With a little luck, he'd pull this through.
By the time that the three stooges got to him, sparks had already started coming off the electrified spearhead. Good, the guitar had charged in time. He waited until the got just a little bit closer, and...
With the push of a button, searing flames spew forth from the head of the guitar, swallowing the three soon-to-be-crispy-black raiders, giving him time to grab the young Charlotte, place her on his shoulder, and run for cover, narrowly avoiding shots from behind. He made it behind a dead brahmin, its stomach torn open, its intestines sticking out. Placing Charlotte inside it, he did a "shhh" notion with a grin and run. Oh, he had their attention now. Before he could deal with the close-combatants, though, he would need to deal with the shooters. There were only so many bullets one could eat before biting the dust, after all, even if that someone happened to be Eddie "I eat bullets for breakfast without milk" the Dead. He knew how to go about it, though. He was already rather camouflaged thanks to all the smoke and darkness (which proved the point that black is both stylish and practical), so he'd decided to make it 'round the caravan wrecks and dead animals and hit them from behind.
That would require him to hurry, though, considering nine very angry dudes wanted to stab and slash and swing at him. People these days, so bloodthirsty! As he run through the dense smoke under the cover of the wreckage, evading his new friends, he saw a familiar body.
Charles Sorrowfield. He looked rather good, if one was to ignore the lack of a head, numerous stab wounds and his intestines sticking out like spaghetti. Mmm, spaghetti. How many years had passed since he had eaten some?
He checked the dead man's pockets, finding a purse full of caps. Looks like he was getting paid after all. What for, though? He hadn't done the best job as a bodyguard -and who can blame him? There's only so many raiders he can take down with a single swing-, so, he decided, he'd be a hitman.
Loading a Dragon's Breath shell into the shotgun, Eddie moved in the shadows, staying out of sight until he got himself behind the ranged goons. Having lost sight of him, the legionnaires spread out, while the ranger-wannabees clustered 'round their boss. Didn't anyone teach them that having a flamer nearby is a bad idea?
"It brings me great pleasure to say my next job is you!" he yelled, and pulled the trigger.
*BOOM*
The flamer guy exploded to a million small, slightly burned pieces of flesh, the explosion taking down all of his trigger happy friends and knocking their glorious leader back like an enraged little girl tossing her doll across the room. No better way to start a concert with a bang and some pyrotechnics. Dropping the shotgun, Eddie grabbed his axe-guitar with both hands. The explosion worked as a signal for the other raiders to run back, and soon enough, one after the other started appearing, each one rushing him on their own.
"You guys never learn!" he laughed as his first victim run towards him, ripper in hand, "Don't you know that killing is my business..."
With his superior reach, he plunged the axe deep into the shoulder and kicked the dying raider to the ground, "...and business is good."
"Killing is my business..." he continued as the next one came. Eddie aimed for the legs, dismembering him, before splattering his brains on the ground with a mighty stomp, "...and business is good!"
"Killing is my business..." the next one had a crowbar. Hah! Grabbing it mid-swing, he headbutted the guy to wrestle it free, before plunging it deep into his eye socket and swinging it off, tearing his face out, "...and business is good."
"Killing is my business..." next came the pipe guy. Eddie took the blow to the side, grabbed his arm, kicked him in the nuts, dropped him to the ground and mashed his face with the butt of the guitar, "...and business is good!"
"Killing is my business..." the next one's head was crashed with the back of the guitar falling like a sledgehammer, "...and business is good."
"Killing is my business..." another ripper man followed, only to have his hand cut off, followed by a decapitation as he fell to his knees, "...and business is good!"
"Killing is my business..." the axe was plunged deep into the man's shoulder, cleaving him in half in a horizontal slash, "...and business is good."
"Killing is my business..." he avoided the large dude's axe vertical swing and horizontal slash, raising his guitar-axe high in response and swinging down a mighty blow. The goon's attempt to guard with the axe's handle failed miserably, breaking through the axe, splitting the head in two way down the torso, "...and business is gooooood!"
"You better believe it!" He laughed, as he kicked V-shaped corpse to the ground, freeing his guitar. Oh, this had been a fun night, alright. It would be a ***** to remove all that blood and gore from the guitar, true, but this was the most fun he'd had in the past 15 years.
Except, it seemed the night wasn't quite over yet. He heard pained groans in the distance, and indeed, guess who was unlucky enough to survive!
"You're... you're a monster!" the injured raid leader guy exclaimed in terror, his hands burried in his stomach. A slow death, that one.
"I'm not a monster," Eddie mused as he pinned his guitar on its strap, freeing his hands, "I'm just the kinda guy looking for quick, cheap thrills," he grabbed Charles' head, "Thanks for delivering, by the way," and grabbed the leader man by the jacket, dragging him along, "Lemme repay you in kind."
[hr]
"Bloody, young, Charlotte!" he jollied as he returned to the brahmin, happy to see his young protégé was either smart or broken enough to heed his advice and stay hidden, "Good job! You survived!"
"I got you a present!" he tossed the man forward and and lay the head down, approaching Charlotte and patting her forward and leaning closer to her ear.
"Ya see, this slowly dying son of a ***** right here is the leader of the merry circus that attacked us. Oh, and he's also responsible for the death of your dad -My condolences, by the way- so I though that you should do the honours." He placed the combat knife he had picked up on his way back in her hands, and prodded her towards, moving before the raider and stomping on his torso.
"I'll make sure he doesn't try anything." He let off his charismatic, cheeky grin, "Go nuts."
Looking at the knife in her hand, Charlotte nodded grimly at Eddie before she walked towards the Raider Leader, his eyes wide in terror at the little child, the knowledge that karmic justice was well is on its way in the form of a slip of a girl. Stepping on the man's hand, the future Enclave torturer steeled herself for a moment before cutting off the man's finger, allowing it to roll away, the finger still twitching as the nerves in the finger went haywire. This was the only beginning, however. There would be more to come, that finger was the promise of more pain.
[hr]
Eddie was left rather impressed with the imagination this twelve-year-old packed. He could totally see her taking up a carrier in torture and interrogation in the future.
Provided she survived her trip.
For all intents and purposes, Eddie was fulfilled his contractual obligations and received payment for services rendered, even if there was a shift in objectives towards the end. Bottom line, he owed the kid nothing. He had already shown how greatly magnanimous he was by saving her ass -literally- from their pleasant company and granting her the chance to satisfy her vengeance. Oh yes, he had done enough indeed.
And so, he waved her goodbye and walked away, "Good luck to you, murderous, young, Charlotte! I look forward to seeing you in twenty years or so, provided you make it that far!" he turned to face her and pointed as he walked on, backwards, "Oh yes, I look forward to seeing the kinda lady you turn out to be. Hell, we might even have some fun if I like you well enough."
"Until we meet again," he bowed, and turned back on course, "Keep on rocking!"
Standing in the middle of the wreckage, Charlotte watched as the ghoul disappeared beyond the horizon, never seeing the Raider behind her...
[hr]
The Wild Wastelands | The Enclave Vault
A Conversation between two willing and consenting adults
An alarms sounded, waking Enclave Intelligence Officer #411. Her sheets were soaked in sweat. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breathe. Looking about, her eyes wild, she realized where she was... home, safe, secure. She relaxed for a moment until she realized that she was late for her meeting with #46. Getting out of bed, Charlotte let the cool air wash over her body before she headed to the shower.
~~~~~~~~~~30 minutes later~~~~~~~~~~
Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 strode through the corridors of the Enclave Vault, rather smug about her latest recruit into the ranks of the Enclave. He was a wad of unmolded clay at the moment but in time, he might be a strong addition to the organization, one that might get her noticed by FalloutJack ~
Swoon~. There was no time to gloat however as she was nearing her destination, the quarters of the Enclave Head of Medical Operations #46. As #411's superior officer, #46 demanded the strictest of obedience. From what the Intelligence Officer gathered, she was from the old guard, a survivor of Raven Rock. Those folk were a different breed of Enclave, different from FalloutJack's Enclave. Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 would not only have to be on her best behavior but on her toes. It was all rather exciting to the woman who was usually relegated to observations.
Reaching the Wing that housed the officer's quarters, #411 quickly located the door to #46's quarters and knocked, waiting the requisite amount of time before opening the door and entering. Surprisingly, the quarters looked more like a home than #411's quarters. Standing at what passed for the foyer, the Intelligence Officer waited to be greeted by her host.
A door at the end of the hallway opened, and from it emerged #46, hands behind her back. Even after the day was done, she wore her black uniform, which complemented well her gray-blue eyes and her braided hair, jet black save for a streak of white showing her age. Even so, she looked far from old; one could easily mistake her for a woman in her mid-thirties, but much, much more mature in her presence, as though ageless.
"#411." She stated as she gave the Intelligence Officer a cold, calculating look, fixing her glasses. "Forgive me for not welcoming you at the door, I was putting my daughter to sleep." her tone was polite, yet distant, and gave the air that she was saying that out of politeness rather than actual care.
"But you are not here for casual talk." she motioned #411 to follow her, "Come, we shall discuss things in my quarters."
As they passed the living room and headed into #46's bedroom, #411 would notice an odd contradiction about the decoration; everything was neat and orderly, as though no one had ever lived in here, yet at the same time, the placements of the furniture and decorations (some of which were distinctively old world) gave the rooms a certain personalised character.
Same applied for the bedroom itself, but it was also spacious enough to have a desk and shelves, which seemed to fit #46, considering how professional and goal oriented she seemed to be even in her personal life.
She motioned #411 to sit on the chair opposite of the desk, and searched her shelves, finding a folder. Sitting down, she slided the folder towards her guest, and clasped her hands.
"I took the time to check after you left for your interrogation. The record kept by the archives offers personal information, but is otherwise incomplete. The one I have handed to you covers almost everything except for information deemed classified at the time."
The Enclave Intelligence Officer looked at the file curiously for a moment and noted the picture that had been pinned to the file's front page. She'd recognize the face anywhere, even if it was an image that had been taken years ago. It was the face of the man that was responsible for the bruises that she'd suffered while out in the field. It was the face of the man that was to be responsible for creating weapons for the Sylphy army that was to be at Constance's command. She looked over the file for a moment and noted the fact that it noted that it was married.
"Interesting." #411 muttered as she remembered the Blamco Bimbo and how chummy those two appeared. It appeared that Jonathan had found a replacement for the former Mrs. McKenna. As the Medical Officer stated, there was a number of pieces information that had been redacted or omitted from the report. It was a rather old file that recorded the events of his life up until his departure from the Old Guard Enclave.
There was a question that remained however. Why was Enclave Chief Medical Officer #46 showing her this and how did she have access to it. Due to the compartmentalization of the various departments, there were things that even #46 had less access to than #411. Based off of the information on the file, it was obviously dated and had been acquired by the woman prior to the fall of Raven Rock. Still why would she carry it unless...
"You're the wife listed in the file." #411 said aloud before looking up at the woman seated across from her, "May I inquire as to the purpose of your sharing this information? It's obvious that you don't want him back, lest you'd be out there with him. That doesn't leave a lot of motive, unless you're looking for someone to kill him."
The last line was made in jest, something that #411 wasn't accustomed to doing and was trying it on for size. She had been in a rather pleasant mood, especially since she'd scheduled a torture tactics later that day. The unfortunate volunteer to be the course's instruction dummy was her former second in command.
"What I want is irrelevant." Emily merely stated, her facial expression and voice unchanging, "I do not do this out of personal vendetta. There is a reason you seek to find McKenna again. Either he is a threat to be put down or you seek him to recruit him back. Whatever the case, the sooner your job is done the better. And so, as is my duty, I give what help I can offer."
Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 paused. It was a very rare case that Enclave Personnel spoke their mind so openly, especially around this particular Intelligence Officer. When she spoke, she spoke carefully. She didn't know this woman and she didn't know what her goals were. Considering she was part of the Old Guard, #411 had to at least consider that she was being genuine, a quality that was quite lacking in this day and age within the Enclave.
"Yes. There is a reason why I'm looking for him. He's assisting me in a matter that concerns the Enclave, though he's not doing so willingly. However, despite the leverage I hold over him, he remains blantantly obtuse about his situation and rebelious in the matter. I would hope to have your assistance in correcting this. You know him best."
#46 hang back in her chair, sighing deeply, before fixing her glasses and answering, "If it's to reign him in that you seek, then you are in for disappointment. Men like Jonathan cannot be molded into shape, only kept in check. His father learned that the hard way." despite her cold and unapproachable appearance, #46's eyes spoke of disgust. "The one thing you need to know about him, is that he's only in it for himself. He blatantly disregards everyone and everything else, and will happily use and discard them when no longer needed."
That didn't seem like the Jonathan that she'd met in the Outskirts of Megaton. Was his care for the Blamco girl a ruse to throw #411 off of his trail? After witnessing the display of sacrifice that the Undertaker had underwent for Lucy Black, Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 thought that perhaps there was a change on the horizon where the denizens of the Wasteland were starting to care for more than their own hides. If Jonathan was going to discard Kristin Blamco in the long run, perhaps he wasn't as useful as he appeared to be on the surface. The Enclave had plenty of weapons designers and with the retooling of the army to a more defensive role, #411 didn't have to hide the existence of the army. She needed to be sure however.
Looking around the room, #411 noticed the room that the Medical Head had exited, noting the childish furnishings within. The Intelligence Officer doubted that #46 was the type to indulge in childhood nostalgia.
"I have a daughter of my own. How old is your child?" #411 asked nonchalantly.
"I fail to see how this has anything to do with Jonathan," there was a hint of reluctance in her voice, "But she is nearing ten, in two months. Don't take this the wrong way, #411, but I prefer to keep my personal life separate from work. And this is work."
Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 did not stop, nor even hesitate at the request of #46. Though it was only because the woman before her outranked her, her she did not voice her thoughts. Now that she had been granted a higher level of access, she'd read not only Jonathan's old Enclave Personnel file but she'd read #46's as well. There had been mention of a child in the past, though it had never been carried to term. There had never been mention of #46 becoming close with any other of the Enclave Personnel. With the research that the woman had been conducting, #411 surmised that this child that #46 was protecting was the same offspring that was mentioned in the file.
"I didn't mean any disrespect, ma'am." #411 acquiesced, raising her hands in mock surrender, "However, as unprofessional sounding as it may be, might I ask what drew you to this particular man?"
"I... knew him since we were children. We basically grew up together, even if his father's studies gave him little time to pass time with others. We grew close, especially after his father's execution. My family and I helped him fight off the stigma of having his father branded as a traitor, helped him rise the ranks again. Eventually, we married."
Despite her attempt to hide it, #46's remorse over the mention of the marriage spoke well of how she looked at it in hindsight. "The Jonathan I fell for was a kind, highly intelligent man, always considerate." A semblance of a smirk appeared and vanished in the blink of an eye, "All a lie. He used me and my family as a stepping stone, and discarded me when I was no longer useful."
She gave #411 a cold glare, "Let this be warning to you. Jonathan is likely one of the most intelligent people in the wastes, and probably the greatest weapon designer we've had since the destruction of the Oil Rig. But he never believed in the cause."
It was slightly treacherous, this territory that #411 was stepping in. The woman's judgement might have been clouded by the slight that she'd received at the hands of Jonathan. Still there was one thing that they could agree upon. Jonathan didn't believe in the cause... but just because one didn't believe, it didn't mean that they weren't useful. Weapons was what #411 needed. Weapons that could protect the Wasteland from what was coming. She would never mention this thought to #46 though. Let the woman think what she wanted to think about McKenna.
It was time to leave. #411 was on a tight schedule and this talk with #46 had put her behind a little but it appeared to be worth it. Perhaps #411 had discovered something worth the time she'd invested. Still, it didn't hurt to ingratiate herself with #46.
"Once I'm done with him. Is there anything that you'd like to happen?" #411 asked as she stood up to take her leave.
"As I said, what happens to him is no concern to me." she said dismissively, "The Enclave is the only hope this Wasteland has, and its members can't let emotions run wild and potentially endanger it. Do with him as you will, what matters is that he does not endanger us in any way."
Getting up, #46 escorted #411 to the door, where she motioned her to wait,
"Though, I would like to be kept up to date with his activity. As you said, I know him best. I wish to act as a sort of consultant."
Enclave Intelligence Officer #411 nodded briefly before leaving. She would keep the Medical Head informed of most things. Not everything but most things.
