The World of The Gunny

The Wasted World of Gunnery Sergeant DeShane
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 Post subject: Chronicles of the Red Violin Pt.2
PostPosted: 19 Jun 2005 21:23 
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Joined: 25 May 2005 15:34
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Location: In the Stan
The Inn of the Cold Oasis

She reached in her pocket, grabbing a wad of cash and placing it on the table. "One room for me, and one for Ron here. And a shower for me, and well, if he wants one. Separate rooms, no interruptions and makes sure people knock." She gave an extra ten dollars to the Man at the desk.

It was a quaint place, a pre-war inn, that was preserved from the horror of the nuclear holocaust that engulfed the continent world.

A vending machine caught her eye. Grabbing a coin, she inserted it and pressed the button. A snicker bar was being moved by the coil, the slender chocolate bar sliding forward and dropping down in the bin. With a hand movement as a quick as a cobras strike, she had the bar in her hand.

It was preserved by ICE-Tec, a special freezing technology that kept anything tasting good and fresh. Anything. She peeled the plastic rap and picked at it.

Her shotgun was hanging around her waist and the colt 6520 in its leather holster.

Ron pays money for his room and takes the room key. He walks up the stairs towards the room.

"Night, Edden. I'll see you in the morning."

He opens the door to the room and shuts it quietly. Edden's room is right next to his. First thing he does is lock and bolt the door. The bolt's a little cheap piece of shit, and so is the lock--one hard kick and the whole thing would fly in.

He removed his shirt and pants, then his underwear, and got into the shower. He let the hot water wash the accumulated dirt off of his body, and made good use of the soap and rag. He looked in the cabinet by the stall and found a bottle of Head & Shoulders. Hot Damn.

Ten minutes later, he got out of the shower and put on a pair of loose boxer briefs and a sleeveless shirt, both from his knapsack. Laying a knife on the nightstand and the Beretta--safety on--under his pillow, the tortured man fell asleep.

*******

Program running.....

Second Scenario.... Identity found, humanity lost....


((("The subject is in position. Awaiting advice to pursue."))) The voice halts on the radio awaiting further orders.

A voice speaks, but no one but the figure looking from the shadowy roads could hear.

((("Understood. Observation prerogative activated."))) The man said in response to the mysterious figure behind the radio.

A second figure emerges from the shadows. "What are our orders?" He asked, his voice even and patient. As if he were always in the habit of being formal.

"To observe the subject. Monitor behavior. So far there has been one incident in the town of Moscow. A dispute that ended.... rather badly." The first man said.

"I see." He seems to weigh on the words. "The subject is remembering."

"Yes. But Mr. Essex expresses that we follow and not reveal ourselves."

"Understood."

Both men stood in the distance and looked at the Inn. Waiting and pondering.

*******

Cold Oasis Inn, Room #6.... 23:00....


A key enters the slot, the tumblers meet, a turn of the wrist, the door opens. As Edden enters she sees a small room before her. Not the sort of tight space that would cause a claustrophobic to hyperventilate, but it was still small. Or maybe, Edden just had picky tastes.

It was the latter. She was picky.

A single bed fit for two or four people. Two people would be comfortable. Over that, it was crowded. Edden hated the thought of slumming. The room was also complete with some posters and two paintings. One was a fuzzy painting of some long forgotten rock star she recalls vaguely seeing such portrait sometime ago during her hazy travels.

The bed was enough, clean sheets, two pillows. Heaven.

Another feature was the small bathroom complete with toilet, toilet paper, a shower and tub.

A TV was sitting on a table. Whether it worked or not, wasn't much of an issue yet. Three book shelves complete with books and other reading materials. A foot locker and locker were just next to the head of the bed. She opened the foot locker and dropped her bag inside. All her items, belongings and lost memories lay inside that large bag. Sealing the lid, she took her footlocker key and closed it. The key was a skeleton key, could work with almost any locker or foot locker. A key-man back in some one horse town had given her a set when she cleared out some unwanted guests.

Grabbing the handle of the larger locker, she opened it and placed her shotgun inside, leaving it to stand. To her surprise, someone left a small box of .12ga shells. Making a mental note, she made sure she'd take it when the time came to leave.

Grabbing the beige towel, she began to undress. Boots, sox’s, jacket, shirt, panty, bra, it was all gone. She was naked and swathed in a towel.

Reaching to the locker once more, she removed a rectangular strong box and grabbed some scented soap. She had some cleaning to do. The feeling of being grimy ticked Edden badly. A clean woman was a good woman.

She made sure her door was open and grabbing the Colt 6520, she took that along. Her room door was locked, but in case someone came charging in, they'd get a nasty surprise. Paranoia was a short coming of the lovely Edden. She knew it and accepted it. It had saved her life a couple times.

Turning the handle counter clockwise, warm water began to fill the tub. A couple candles lay about. Taking some matches from the cabinet by the sink she lit them and waited for the tub to fill before she would settle in.

A tune came to mind. Something like the money light sonata. She had sung that song before with the violin. Dropping the towel.

A sound of water being moved by human flesh could faintly be heard as the sound of a sigh of pleasure escaped through her lips as she set her self in the tube. Her upper torso, save her breasts were submerged in the warm water. The sound of relief echoes through the walls as the steamy water began the process of loosening the dirt on her flesh. Her many rings were set aside on a small bench and she rested her head backwards as the heat from the water relaxed her tight limbs.

This was heaven on some scale. The chain of a key was hung around her neck. She wasn't sure what the round key was for, but soon she'd find out.

It would all come back to her.... eventually.

Grabbing the violin and stick, she began to play the low haunting melody of the Moonlight Sonata. Even Ron in his room could hear the melodic tragedy being played out, and whomever heard it couldn't help but be moved by tears.....

******

The man's tortured dreams wouldn't stop. He knew the rule--kill yourself in the dream, you wake up. Not the case. In every dream, he died only to have a worse one.

The smell of burning fat was accompanied by a sizzling sound--one of the three obese men in Nightmare company had met up with a super-mutant carrying a flamer. Pork rinds for everybody. A ghoul with a plasma saw was ripping hunks off of Caparzo's legs and letting him watch as they were cooked and eaten. The whole time he was in a ditch surrounded by waste and corpses. Sludge, that's what it was. He could feel where the meat hook had gone into the space between the bones in his left lower arm. If he pulled, blood would shoot out. He slipped in and out of consciousness.

The dreams would last for so long tonight...

******

She played on as if possessed, the cat-gut strings met and clashed and played music that tore at the hearts of all who heard it. One old man was sobbing like a baby at the frenetic playing of Edden. She in her tub, her cut short hair and head tilted forth, tears streaming down her cheeks as she recalls the past... and the song plays on.

*****

The Past

Men and women screaming as rotten things jumped from nowhere and ripped into a young would be merc. She remembers his face well. He was a young lad, handsome, courageous, but also kind and warm hearted. She remembers sharing a cup of coffeee with this lad at some palace among others like their kind.

*****

The playing intensifies. Her eyes shut, but the fingers and hands moved along as if possessed.

****

The past realies on....

The boy was standing back to back with her when the wolf monsters came out of the shadow, as if they were being spawned from the very darkness. His rifle went off and her shotgun blazed death. They were fighting tooth and claw, one not giving up. They were winning.

But it would be short lived. The lad had his throat ripped out as a wolf pounced on him and clenched its teeth on his soft voice box, tearing it out like a ripe piece of fruit. He was dead and Edden was screaming as she blasted the wolf's head off clean. Then another figure came and grabbed her by the arm. Same golden eyes and brown skin. He pulled her away from the battlement, his free hand unleashing death on the shadow hounds. They reached the silver gates.

Tears were in his eyes when she faced her 'savior'. His eyes held no warmth, nor did his touch. He saved her life. When the gates slammed shut, She kept looking at the direction of the fallen lad....


*****

The song ends, and claps erupt from all around the inn. She stops, her hands aching and her eyes full of tears of for a past she can vaguely recall.

There sat in the tub of warm water, was a weapon, a woman with no past... and she wept because she feared she had no future.

*****

Somebody else screamed. Ron caught glimpses--an M-60 firing wildly, laser beams slicing a ghoul into sections, someone's head exploding. Dell Jones, Ron's best friend, running from a huge mutant. Ron ran towards him, hand outstretched. Not fast enough. Dell was impaled through the back, mutant's hand suddenly growing from his chest.

The entire Inn, right after it was done clapping, heard the scream as Ron bolted upright.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

He picked the Beretta up, breathing heavily. There was enough clear, odorless sweat to fill a bucket coming from his forehead. He chuckled weakly. Just a dream, he told himself. Just a dream.

******

The shellshocked soldier got up and put his pants on. He didn't feel right now. He tucked three throwing knives into their harness and took the knife with a black, weighted blade. He tucked the Beretta into his pants. He rose and walked towards his door--when he heard a noise from in the hallway. Something scratched on his door.

Shit.

He pulled the Beretta out... then changed his mind. He looked in the closet--instead of a rack, there was a cord to hang your clothes. He tore it out, then ran to the bathroom and got to the sink. He turned the water on as hot as possible, and filled up a small glass full of it.

He put the water glass up above the door frame, and wrapped the cord in a loop under it. The door opened, and the man from the front desk stepped in with a shotgun. He expected the captain to be sleeping in the bed--not standing in the blind spot, smiling.

Ron tugged the cord, and hot water landed in the clerk's eyes because he looked up. He screamed, and Ron hit him square in the Adam's apple, causing him to gag and stumble backwards. He let go of the shotgun, and Spears kicked the front end of it, causing it to flip over. He grabbed the stock and pulled the trigger, blowing the clerk into Edden's bedroom door. No pellets went through his body--none hit anything inside Edden's door.

The captain laughed, spun the shotgun like a toy, and cocked it. The clerk's sightless eyes stared up at nothing. Another clerk with an M4 rushed up the steps--and got blasted. Ron shouted to Edden.

"EDDEN, WAKEY, WAKEY, EGGS AND BAKEY!"

The old man down the hall ran out of his room with a rifle, saw that the clerks were fighting a tenant, and decided to help the clerks. He thought they were on the same side. He raised the old rifle--and Ron put another shotgun shell into his ancient body. Several clerks in plain clothes were running around in the lobby.

NOT ANOTHER AMBUSH!

Gun fire and screams awoke her from her daze. Like a snake coiled for the kill, she sprang out of bed and began to get dressed. Putting on her clothing as before and grabbed her double barrel shotgun, she got dressed.

Her large brahmin hide duffel bag was slung across her back, pistol in one hand, shotgun held in the other.

She felt a hand on her shoulder and her shotgun's barrel slamming against his temple sent him recalling backwards. An unfamiliar hand was treated as a hostile. Nothing more.... nothing less.

Ron gave a war cry.

He was in trouble. It was an ambush. They were under attack.

Mind focused, Edden inserted herself into the terrible world of battle mode. Opening her door, she blasted tenants and clerks who got in her way.

A thunderous double blast from the widowmaker sent a man fly through the air and across the lobby. His chest eviscerated his eyes clouded and dead.

She moved along, reloading the shotgun with two more buckshot shells. The wily Edden hadn't forgotten to take the extra shells she had found in the locker room.

Red began to fill her gaze and instead of gunfire and screams, all she could hear was the symphony of a hundred red violins.


*****

The Outside

The two men dressed in fine suits of gray and black looked to the other. "Shall we proceed, Gog."

The other man shook his head. "No, we have our orders Magog. We stay hear and await further instruction." The other replied mechanically. His voice seemed like a synthesized robot voice appearing to be human.

Both of them could pass for twins or even brothers. But they weren't all that identical. Gog was a beefier looking man with a hard face that seemed to have been chiseled from stone. Magog on the other hand was slightly leaner, but still had that face that seemed carved from rough stone. Both their brown eyes were hidden from view by special shades. How they could make out in the dark with shades was anyone's guess.

"The subject is active."

"Yes. Something must have triggered her."

"You think it was the man she was with?"

"Affirmative, Magog. She is prone to responding to acts of violence. It attracts her, though she is probably unaware of the attraction." Gog deduced. Essex had informed him of Edden's patterns.

"We shall watch and wait." Gog said as he folded his arms across his broad chest.

******

Ron was standing at the top of the stairs, armed with the shotgun and the M4. He started firing bursts into the clerks in the lobby. They were all hiding under cover of some sort. He saw Edden coming towards him down the hallway and gave an apologetic look.

Bag on back, clerks and tenants behind them, Red Violin fired a warning shot in the air.

"Sorry for all the damages." she threw a roll of bills on the table. "This should cover it." She said blankly. The tenants cringed, but one among them began to draw a gun.

Like a flicker in the air, she could sense the danger, but instead of responding with her shotgun, she responded in words. "If I were you, I'd put down the gun and go back to your room. Be a good lad and put the gun down. Now."

She cocked the hammer of the Colt 6520 she had. "I don't feel like killing you today and you don't wanna die."

The man lowered his fire arm and walked off to his room. The violin playing stopped and Edden was herself again.

"Let's go, Ron. I think we wore out our welcome."

Ron lowers the M4 halfway, and walks backwards, keeping an eye on the clerks and tenants. They get out the door, and Ron shuts the huge double doors... then puts the M4 in the bars to keep them that way.

He turns and starts walking, pumping the shotgun to get the shells out. Six shells. He gives these to Red Violin. He drops the empty scattergun on the ground.

"I'm real sorry about that. I didn't figure the clerks would try to rob us."

Edden smiled wickedly. "Yeah, well. In this world, you just can't trust anyone." The words rang true and anyone who heard them had to ask the question: Was she right?

"C'mon, let's go Ron. I'll cover you. This place is giving me an odd vibe." The feeling felt like a tingle on her flesh that cause each hair on her arms, neck and back to rise. "Something ain't right." She muttered to herself.

Ron opened the doors of the inn that led to the exit, and Edden kept shotgun trained on the tenants. Some hung around, the wiser ones went to their rooms.

Little did Edden and Ron know, they were being watched carefully....





Mid Way....

Edden and Ron come to a small snowy bluff and in the distance they could make out the brick and concrete building in the distance. A light gust of icy wind swirled snow flakes at Edden. The cold pricked her skin, goose bumps rose all over her body, but she didn’t react like others did, she didn’t flinch or hug her arms for warmth. The soft crunch of snow under boot heel was heard as the two kept a silence since they left the troubled Oasis inn. She had honestly looked forward to some waffles and bed and breakfast and maybe even sample a call girl, but the staff tried to rob her and Ron; so things went sour.

They halted. Her sudden stop caused Ron to stop as well.

Grabbing the binoculars she had pilfered off some long forgotten raider's body, she put her eyes to the lenses and focused at the main gates and the guard box that had let people in and out of the long forgotten facility.

A chain link fence went around the rectangular shaped building. The sign had high voltage written on it, bold and yellow with a bright lightning bolt on the sign. It was a warning. Touch the fence or fry. Wiser creatures would stay away, unwise ones ended up charred flesh and bone.

The Parking lot was in shambles, asphalt long beaten and broken by years of weathering and disrepair. She licked her dry lips to moisten them; the weather was playing havoc on her skin.

The depot area had the iron shutters down and the delivery trucks of nuka cola parked in their positions. Some Highwaymen’s and other Corvega car stood in the lot, battered, broken, beyond repair.

The main office door was sealed shut, but didn't look unbreachable. The door was sturdy, strong, meant to take the knocks of time and persistence. Scanning to westerly end of the facility, she could make out charred figures and bones in suits laid about. Another guard house, a small one, but secure. A place where they could take shelter. On the Easterly end was the area where the backup generator could be found. Deftly snatching the map from Ron, she saw the marked area where the generator could be found. She gave it a quick read and handed it back.

Checking her hip, she saw she had four clips of 10mm AP, and some thirty five .12ga buckshot shells and twelve 12ga. solid slugs. Two fragmentation grenades at her hip, and her knife. Grabbing the shotgun, she checked the chambers. Two shells of buckshot. Grabbing the Winchester widowmaker, she hopped down the bluff and began to trudge towards the Cola factory.

She spent all her time not saying a single word to Ron, for she was focused, she had a goal and she wanted to reach there before any small talk could start.



*****

Beyond the eyes of Men


The two men who had watched the duo travel from the Inn to this factory looked on still. Gog and Magog looked at eachother and took turns looking through their advanced binoculars. These devices were modficiations of the Brotherhood of Steel issue, able to determine distance, clarity of vision for miles and also heat signature features. How they acquired such technology was anyones guess.

"She is moving faster then anticipated." Gog's face remained as impassive as stone. His face and jaw seemed untouched by the cold that was blowing down from them from the north east.

"Yes, she is ahead of the game." Magog replied to his brother's observation. "I don't think Essex anticipated this. Of course, who could have, given her situation. Plans will have to be altered. Witnesses and survivors removed." Magog suggested stiffly.

"Eliminate them, Magog?" Came the rhetorical reply of the bigger man. "No.... Not yet. No one is aware of us. Not the Empire, nor Damien Wolf or even the Legendary Scourge.... not even the Black Sand knows. No. She won't beable to piece it altogether. Besides, even if she were deemed a threat, even if she remembered; we'd still need authorization from Essex. He after all, has his long term plans." Gog knew his master's depth of thinking. He was the type who always saw long term, who always saw a use for someone. And so Gog was bred not to act upon emotion, he was bred to obey and do his job.

"What about the Pilgrim?" Magog asked, his voice low when he mentioned that name.

"Him? He we may have to watch out for. But still, we have our orders and we stick to them. No exceptions." Gog said finally.

Magog only nodded his head.

They both looked to the duo that traveled to the Factory, and they would be watching them for a time.
Ron says nothing in return, only following Edden to the factory. He felt like a foreigner. He was.

Maybe he'd make it up to her.

The Gates

Edden trudded, oblivious to the fact that she and Ron were being watched. Every move, every turn was being scrutinized by unseen figures. There was an odd feeling in the air, but it wasn't enough to divert her attention.

They came towards the gates, which were open.some ice patches remained in the pot holes in the parking lot. It was a dreary place.

The checkpoint house was vacant. Her eyes scanned the through the glass and saw no one, alive and dead. Clearing the ice particles and snow flakes with her hand. It was dark inside, but nothing stirred.

Across the great lot were dead trees and some scattered remains of human bodies.

"Ron," When she spoke, it sounded like her voice sounded horse from silence. "Go on the east end and check out the generator area. I am gonna see the other guard house and truck depot. Maybe I can get us in."

She didn't wait for Ron to reply, she began to walk towards the west are where the cola trucks and other guard houses were found. Ron, going on the east end would find some guard houses and the generator.

Ron finds a door... locked with a deadbolt. Inside of the room is the genrator. Ron kicks the door open--and sees a cocker spaniel eating a rat. How long had the poor thing been in there?

And how'd it get there?

The answer came suddenly with the smell of carrion The body in the corner had gone unnotced until now. He walked over to it, and saw there was a note. He took it.

"They are coming. The mutants in the black lands-- I have seen them. They are coming... I have no food... plenty of water dripping in. The dog can catch rats, but it wont share em wit me. Bitch."

The cocker spaniel barked at Ron and started growling--as if on cue. He reached into his pocket and pullled out a piece of deer jerky, and the dog went insane. It jumped up on its hind legs and snapped the jerky out of his hand, wolfing it down.

Ron chuckled and saw that it was nearlyt emaciated--to the poiint that its collar had slipped off. He picked it up.

MAGGIE. FEP-906667

He realized that this must have come from a lab somewhere. He pulled out another piece of jerky, he had quite a few. He fed thendog a few more and then walked back to where he and Edden had split up. The cocker spaniel followed him.

As she took the bend near the alley, shotgun in hand, she saw some dead bodies. They were badly charred, others were burnt, and some were sliced as if cut in two.

By the look in the faces frozen in pain, she supposed the death that came upon them was an unkind one. She checked the bodies, patting pockets and sleeve compartments. All she ended up with was some coins and two card keys. The eys had been long sunken and eaten away by wasteland carrion eaters. Only hardened flesh and bones remained.

She had no pity for the dead, none the least. TO her, death seemed like a vague notion, something that she was aware that could come upon her anytime, but didn't seem to care if it did at all.

Red and yellow green. Opening her jacket pocket, she inserted them. Turning her neck to the left she saw some of the old nuka cola trucks, one of the back shutters were open. Jumping aboard, she checked the crates and saw most of the contance was missing, and some, one crate of twenty four bottles remained.

"Jackpot." Grabbing a bottle, which felt very cool, due to being exposed to the elements? Popping the cap, she quenched her hungry thirst for the brown liquid. The liquid stung her tongue and made her throat fell stingy. She liked that sensation.

Belching, she threw the bottle down and headed to the small guard house.

As she crossed the concrete patch. She met the door closed. It was like a small bunker, maybe a small arms station or something. Like the kind four people could fit in comfortably without reservation or complaint.

Prying the door open, she found two bodies, one with gun in hand, the other sprawled, face down, hands spread apart. Some green strong boxes were at each corner. Checking them, she realized they were locked.

Crouching, Edden removed a small leather pouch that contained some lock pick instruments. Tinkering with the small oval locks, it would be a matter of second before they snapped open and she could find what was inside.

In the distance, she could hear footsteps coming.

Ron

Ron entered behind Edden with Maggie panting at his heel. He tossed the dog the last poiece of jerky, and she ate it hurriedly.

"All I found was Maggs and a body."
The scent of dog fur and carrion almost made her wretch. "Where did you dig up the mutt?" She looked at the dog named Magss with utter indifference and contempt. She hated dogs. Something about them didn't set right.

"So," She grabbed some of her cards she found. "Well I found some key cards... and you found." She looked at the dog. "A dog with fleas and a dead body." The last remark was pure sarcasm, one of Edden's most unloveable traits.

The dog looked at her, not angrily, but with curiosity Edden couldn't quite discern. "Well, Maggs is cute, in a sort of skaggy way."
Ron crouches down next to Maggie. He scratches the dog behind her ear and she pants and licks his hand. He points to the dog's flea collar with the experimental number on it.

The captain smiles.

"Maggie."

The dog turned her head.

"Knows her name, at least. She looks really smart. Anyway, what's in this place other than old Nuka-Cola?"

Rug scratched his chin, feeling chills run up his spine at the sight of the old abandoned Nuka-Cola factory. They were standing outside the gates, he and his grandson. Or, well, that's how the old man saw the young boy of maybe nine or ten. In reality, he didn't have any idea where he was from. But for as long as the man could remember, he had followed him around.

"Look scary. Gran'pa?"

The boy rarely said anything, what with the huge scar (Rug couldn't tell what it was that had made it, and he had never asked) disfiguring half of his face and making it hard for him to speak. "Grandpa" Rug looked down at him, a warm smile making every wrinkle in his weather-bitten face stand out. Almost as a complete opposite the young boy's pale, perfect, innocent face looked back. Rug had long ago stopped seeing the scar.

"Yes. It looks scary. But I don't think it's going to hurt us any longer."

He ruffled the young boys hair, and then took his hand. It was unsure who was steadying who as they stepped through the gates. The couple walking over the courtyard was bizarre, the old man crouching in his heavy furs that had given him his name, and the young boy, hand in hand.

The sound of their footsteps echoed over the desolate area.

Edden held back her disgust in petting the dog Maggie, and though she feared getting bit, something, to her knowledge never happened, still some caution was maintained. Her hand stroked the damp fur and she held the shiver back.

The canine licked her hand, and smooth sigh of relief whistled from between her lips. Her finger's gave a gentle scaratch behind the animals ear. It was obviously happy, the tail was wagging.

"Nice, dog. Smart too, eh? Well, I suppose Maggs has no objections to entering the factory.... Though I honestly wonder if it is a factory at all." She gave a suspicious glance at the facility.

"Funny thing is, I don't ever recall being here.... Somehow, from what I was told, I had to come here for some answers. Deja vu, Ron, I think that is what it is called." Her eyes looked glazed and confused, since she didn't even understand her reasons for coming to a place that reeked of death.

"Listen, Ron, I am not good at this sentimental stuff, so I am going to spit it out. Since this is my lost memories, I don't want you to get killed over shit that don't concern you; so if you leave, I won't hold it against you." Edden said, her back toward Ron, as she spoke from over her shoulder.

Foot steps were heard in the distance. "Get back to me on that Ron." She began to pace towards the outer area of the parking lot and found two curious figures. An old man and a young boy.

"We have visitors."

Maggie wagged the little nub of a tail that she had and looked up at Ron, as if expecting another treat or a response to Edden's comments.

Ron followed Edden out of the guard house and stood with his arms crossed over his chest.. seemingly of boredom, but really just to get closer to his best knives sheathed on each shoulder.

He hadn't replied to Edden.
When Rug saw the woman in the black leather vest exit the guard shack, he froze in his tracks. A gust of wind caught the snow on the black pavement, making it swirl and dance in intricate patterns between the two by the shack, and the two on the yard.

Which couple was the odder was hard to tell.

Instinctively hiding the boy in his capes, Rug squinted through the icing winds. The two, the man in the quasi-military outfit and the woman, didn't make a move. For a while, both just stood there, looking at each other.

And then, after much deliberating, Rug boldly stepped forward, and began moving towards the two. He still held the boy very close, shielding him from the cold and from the eyes of the strangers. On his face was a look of determination.

"Hello folks. Haven't seen you around in Moscow before. Here touristing?"

Ron just watches the man in the wolf hides carefully. He respected the old more than anyone else. With age, power and speed almost always decrease--but experience makes up for it. His hands closed on the hafts of his knives, just in case. But he had seen the man open the cloak of wolf hide for a second... he didn't think there'd be trouble.
Tourists? Edden thought, taken a back by the comment. "No, we're not tourist, old man. I am a wanderer and well.... My friend here can speak for himself. As for me, well if I don't wanna be seen, no one sees me." She motioned towards Ron Spears. Edden had an arrogance about her that made her appears elfish, which to a degree she was. But when you got to know her, well, you'd understand.

The guts touched her flesh and she felt the goose bumps rise like yeast, making little spots all around her skin.

In the distance, the decadent Old Moscow was looming in the distance, broken building standing like citadels to a long forgotten time, a forgotten era; much like her memory - forgotten - in the hands of unknown figures of the abyss.

Little did any of them know, two men were watching them in the safety of distance, beyond detection and the sight of man. Even a sniper would have had hard a time finding them.

Edden grabbed some meat stripes from her pocket and gave them to the hungry dog. It sniffed the red stripes of deer flesh and had no qualms of wolfing it down its gullet. Hunger did that people and did that to natures finest.

*****

In the distance

The two men watched, Gog and Magog exchanging nods and glances as more people seem to get entangled with the Red Violin and the intrigue that surrounded her. Whatever their master was planning it had to be big to have taken into account so many factors.

“We will proceed with the plan as soon as they reach the inner sanctum of the facility.” Gog instructed his brother.

“Do you think she remembers?”

”No. Not likely. But if she does, we have our orders.” Gog looked in the distance, he could see the facility and was well aware of what awaited them inside. Of course, they'd see what was inside, but they wouldn't leave to tell anyone.

Obviously they're not tourists. Stupid. Stupid. Hasn't been such a thing as tourists for...ages.
Rug didn't know where he got these odd notions. Sometimes he thought he might be a bit mad. But madmen didn't really know that they were insane, did they?

"Well, then, wanderers. Nice to meet you. I go by the name of Rug."

He said it as naturally as if his name had been Joe Smith, and with a curt nod at both of them. He still held the child hidden in his capes, although a small patch of hair stuck up and a single eye with red scar tissue running up around its right side. Rug didn't seem to notice.

"So what're you folks doing up here? Not exactly the best place to...wander..."

Rug trailed off, his eyes plastered on the rather intimidating building, standing alone in the large concrete field while wind-whipped snow flakes as sharp as needles whistled through the dark sky.

Bad idea to come here. Bad idea. Always listen to the boy you dumb old man, you damn well know he's smarter than you.

"Especially not considerin' all the things you've heard about this place. All the ghost stories. An' to be honest, I don't think they're all made up just to scare little children. You wanna hear one particularily juicy one?"

Edden smiled at the old man. "I am drawn here, Mister Rug," She said almost blankly as she stared at the shuttered windows. "Like a magnet pullin' me towards it. Perhaps I'll find myself here. Not sure... But I have to go inside. Like something I have to do." Her voice sounded far, like her mind, wandering back to a place of screaming and eternal night. The golden eyed wanderer and another who wielded an impressive sword were at her side.

Day returned and the darkness cleared from Edden's vision, her amber eyes dilating as her pusle slowed down. "Man, I hate flash backs." She muttered to herself so softly, only the dog could have heard her.

Rug nodded slowly. He was familiar with that, being drawn to places without really knowing why. It was like him being drawn here, but to what purpose, he still didn't know. Now, however, he felt his presence here was no longer needed. No-one could tell why, he just felt it.

"I see m'lass. Well, if you'll listen to an old man's advice, be mighty careful in there. I don't think this is just any old Nuka Cola factory. Don't ask me why I say that, it's just a feeling. In my bones."

With that, old Rug tipped his cap at both the lady and the man with the haunted eyes, and then turned around and walked away. For some reason, neither the Red Violin nor the Captain did anything before he was already gone in the snow whirl.

Edden thought on what Rug said and her skin shivered as a cold wind crept down her collar and touched her naked back. "Thank you, Rug. I have that same feeling this isn't just a nuka cola factory either." She looked at the factory again. It seemed like a monster thinly disguised as a beverage company - son innocent, yet harbored a sinister secret.

"Safe journey old man. Perhaps we may meet again.... If I survive this." She said absently, her eyes blank and empty of emotion; just brown amber that seemed so cold and distant.
The captain's eyes glimmer softly, holding the secrets of his decimated mind.

"Godspeed, old man."

He looked to the dog and then back at Edden.

"What now?"

"What now," She snapped open the chamber of the Winchester widowmaker and saw the free shells. A cold smirk, "We get in," She snapped it shut and took a breath, her hot breath forming a mist in the air.

"We try the key cards, and if that fails, we find another way in." She began to walk, her feet crunching the soft snow, than something made her halt in her tracks. She turned in her tracks and faced Ron. "Listen Spears, you have come a long way with me, and I don't wish you to see get hurt. So, go if you don't want to follow. It won't make you a coward; but what I fear I may find may destroy us both. I rather myself get burned then you do. So the choice is yours." Her amber eyes seem so warm and humane, the cold and blood lustful glaze was gone, or at least the moment. Now in this form, she looked a lot younger then she was actually.

The dog sat in the snow, not caring it was cold or not, but it looked up at Ron and then watched Edden as she stared at Ron, waiting for what he had to say.
Ron matched her look. Her unusually warm eyes meet his tortured, broken ones.

"Edden... for many years I've been looking for someone that made me feel like I was welcome. I'm going with you."

Maggie stands, panting, and walks over to Edden's side, looking up with her bottomless pools that some call eyes. She pants, giving the appearance that she's smiling. She wags her nub of a tail happily.
Edden smiled, warmth in the eyes held for a mere moment and then the old personality came back; amber eyes gaining a lustful edge that screamed for murder and sex. At the one moment Edden seemed loveable and aicable, she went and returned to her old persona as the Red Violin.

"Fine. You're funeral." Came her usual voice like the wisp of an executioner's tone before he dropped the axe of the convicted's head. "C'mon, flea bag lets go dance with fate."
Ron nods.

"Well, go ahead and try the door..."

The captain checked his two best knives--one with a straight, black blade and one with a heat-treated rainbow blade. Both were weighted.

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