The World of The Gunny

The Wasted World of Gunnery Sergeant DeShane
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 Post subject: Chronicles of the Red Violin Pt. 3
PostPosted: 19 Jun 2005 21:41 
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Warrant Officer 1
Warrant Officer 1
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Joined: 25 May 2005 15:34
Posts: 984
Location: In the Stan
The Nuka Cola Factory.....

PROGRAM RUNNING...... DIAGNOSTICS CHECKING.... SEARCHING.... RED VIOLIN, EDDEN....

THE JEAN NUKA COLA FACTORY.... TEN MILES AWAY FROM OLD MOSCOW....



Walking cautiously to the reinforced door, her feet made light crunching sounds in the two inch thick snow beneath her feet. With every breath, the hot air from her lungs made mist. To her flank was Maggie the dog and Ron with his knives in hand.

Reaching in her pocket she pulled out the security card. At the door was a small key card slot that was cover with a special plastic cover baring a card key symbol. I guess to prevent the dial pads from frosting over; she noted as she looked at the rectangular slot she had to pass the magnetic lining through.

It was labeled red. Digging in her pocket she pulled out small red key cards marked with the Nuka cola insignia. With a downward slide, the panel began to switch between red and green as the small bulbs flashed left to right. It was processing the coding on the bar code foil that the card had.

Two seconds later.

BEEEEPPPP!

Was a shrill sound it made and the sound of air tight locks coming free confirmed the door was free to open. Gripping the steel handle, she turned it down and the door budged open.

Then a mechanical voice spoke. "WELCOME.... btzzz.... TO... THE GOERGIE JEAN NUKA COLA ....btzzz... zittt... FACTORY BRANCH. OUR SPONSORS, VAULT-TEC, WES-TEK AND ROBCO, THE WONDERFUL MAKERS OF PIPBOY, THANSK YOU FOR VISITING.... zittt btzzz...." The synthetic seemed almost human, having a female voice uttered with a metallic crispness.

Edden looked around the room to find the source, her shotgun close at hand. "Ummm, thank you."

"YOU’RE MOST WELCOME... PLEASE FOLLOW THE MR. SMITH HOLO-AID GUIDE YOU, HE WILL BE YOUR.... btzzz.... *system error 709-øΏ*... MR. SMITH WILL GUIDE YOU ACCORDINGLY. PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH ANY OBJECTS OR ENTER ANY WORKING AREA WITHOUT THE ASSISTANCE OF CERTIFIED NUKA COLA WORKER. WE THANK YOU FOR COMING AND HOPE YOU ENJOY YOUR TOUR."

The voice cut off. And the sound of treaders treading could be heard in the distance. Right now, they were in a small corridor hall way. Potted plants, amazingly still alive can be seen in the corners. A reception office is there, but the small plaque stating closed can be seen.

As Edden and her company came to the receptionist booth, they could see a round ticking hand-reading clock on the wall. The time perpetually frozen at 2:30pm.

"Time must have stopped when the war came." Edden muttered, not really sure if she were speaking to herself or voicing her thoughts out loud.

Some old magazines could be seen on a small waiting table. The couches looked worn and gnawed on. Maybe rodents got in. But the table and floor had to be noted carefully. They were dust free and clean. It seemed someone was taking an active interest at keeping the area tidy. Which was commendable. No one liked walking into some dust laden facility, you spent more time coughing then getting anything useful.

The smiling Nuka cola logo and some pre-war propaganda posters were seen on the wall just next to the sofas and couches people waited on. An ash tray was there, no ash in it. They even had a nuka cola vending machine in the same room as well. One poster showed the Great White Bearded man, the one they called the Great Father of America pointing toward the horizon, his left hand holding a great bag that was the American Flag embellished with the thirteen stars of the Super States. A great squadron of war planes fly over his shoulder and marines at his feet marching off to wipe out the enemies of their great nation.

Creakie…. Creakie…. Creakie

The same soft sound of tread legs were heard in the distance, behind the double doors ahead. On the counter of the middle Receptionist counter, a small box of 9mm Para rounds were seen. They would have to be loaded manually and from what she counted, it was only fifteen bullets. Edden sent the box for Ron.

The double doors waited and little did she know, the two agents from the distance started to make their ay towards the door.

Ron got down to one knee, catching the bow of bullets simultaneously. He pulled out his spare clip and began to load every bullet painstakingly. He had five clips now. When he finished, he tossed the box through the entrance. He put the clip into its pouch on his belt, and re-drew his rainbow knife.

He watched the double doors, not knowing what was waiting for him. Maggie made a whining noise and sat down next to him.

"Hush, Maggs."

He let the knives slip slightly, so that both blades pointed to the floor and he held them by his fingertips only. Anything on the opposite sides of those doors would have a very bad day.

He walked closer, so that he wouldn't hit Edden. The dog followed.
As the party walked towards the double doors with caution, a voice called to them.

Edden and Ron spun around ready to fire, but what they saw in front of them looked like a living being. Human of course, in appearance. He was neatly dressed in a grey suit jacket and matching gray pants and pair of nice Italian made pen loafers. He had a warm smile and cool grey eyes and black hair neatly combed back.

He walked forward, his feet simulating the sound of foot steps. His accent was very crisp and refined. His hand motioned to them to come. He seemed like a kindly middle aged butler, very polite and very cool. Compared to the rag tag trio, he looked as if he was cut from a different time altogether.

The doors opened and a K2 model Robo-Brain with a broom in his manipulators, it was busy sweeping away a fallen rats fried remains.

Some music began to play as the tour went on and Smith paced in front of the group.

"To your right, you see a diligent K2 Robo-Brain, brought to you by our good friends" He pointed to a small functional lift. Smith said matter-of-factly. Little did the holo-Aid know, the Robo brains had real brains installed in them. Mostly from prisoners of war and well military prisoners. Of course, why would a holo-aid divulge information that would make his makers and government look stupid?

"Oh, and if you have any questions, please inform me, and I will aid you to the best dden stepped inside the elevator lift along with the holo-aid, Ron and Maggie. As they entered some buttons were seen. It was roomy enough and since the hol-aid had no real mass to make the place feel comfortable, he wasn't much of a bother. The only thing that troubled her about the holo-aid was he kept fixing his already fixed tie. It was annoying. Of course, she knew trying to blast him with buck shot would do nothing at all. To her front, a panel could be seen with a card slot.

First Floor, Ground Floor, Second floor, First lower level and Second lower level. The Last lower floors were labeled in Blue while the other floors were labeled in red.

Edden pressed in the red button for the first floor and the elevator rumbled as it ascended upwards, soft slow elevator music playing in the background. It was the Ink spots playing 'Maybe'. Her feet tapped against the steel flooring with the beat of the ancient tune.

A minute later, the lift stopped and everyone was on the first floor. Stepping inside, one could get a bird’s eye view of the employee cubicle mazes and work stations long abandoned, yet the sound of incessant typing and the sound treaders and hovering sounded about the area.

"What is on this level, Mr. Smith?" Edden asked, her shotgun held, ready to blast anything to kingdom come. She walked cautiously out the door, the typing sounding louder.

"Employee cubicals, Madame. This where the people who make Nuka Cola come and work everyday, making it the beverage of the nation." Mr. Smith answered with his usual cheesy smile.

Mr. Smith walked ahead, phasing through objects in his way. At her feet near the worn out rug, a human corpse was on his chest, head to a side and pistol in his hand. He was wearing a security guard uniform. He was bones now and in front of him were two destroyed brain bots with long decomposed brains in their jars.

Black burns of carbon scoring and bullet holes littered the place, discarded shells and some more bodies were to be seen. As they came to the threshold of the employee center, each cubicle with either a battered computer terminal or a dead body or vacant cubicle, few she passed actually worked.

Treadddddd....

The sounds of treads came closer. As she stared outside, she noticed the windows were still intact, actually the air conditioner was still working; she could feel the warm air touching her cold skin like a ghostly finger. It was blowing steadily which meant a power source was still alive in the ghostly building/

It felt uneasy being in this place. It was neat, yet death was seen in every corner. Busted robots and humans corpse. None of it was good. Coming to a cubicles were a skeletal figure sat, his head on a table, a gun in one hand and a bullet hole embossed with a black outline in his skull. Next to him was a small brown paper pad with the name Julian Jenson on the title slot. Some red stains could be seen on the cover and a large crimson stain could be seen near wall.

Point of impact.

She reached for the pad and began to read…..

"Hmm, Btzzz... Seems Mr. Jenson isn't feeling too well today." The Holo-aid said thoughtfully between the static that distorted his speech.

Red looked at the note and saw the plainly written first page....


Intern Julian Jenson, Nuka Cola Products and distribution....

Date: 08/10/2077

I don't believe it, Donna, those dirty yellow Eastern bastards have nuked us. The great ol’ USA, those damn commie bastards have nuked us. The whole world seems to have gone to shit and we were so close at making the all time quota on our latest shipment of special nuka colas. Man, you would have loved the new batch we were going to turn out….

On another note, it seems I am not going home... the robots, they have gone berserk. The Brain bots have opened fire on the security forces and now are wreaking utter havoc on all floors. It seems the Zax 2.0 we have must have had some virus and now it fed the bots wrong orders and they are wiping us out.

So far, Johnny and Billsworth and some others managed to hold the robo menaces back, but I hear them beating down on the doors, their synthetic voices talking to us soothingly to let them in so they can help us....

Help us die!!! They are going to get us... We can't fuckin' get out. So before some damn robot comes and scoop my brain out, I am going to end it all.

Sorry Donna. Forgive me, if you can.

Signed
Julian Jenson.


The distrubing note ended and the corpse of Jenson only proved how that end came.

The robo-brain treaded by and ignored the party, merely moving around like a soldier on patrol.

"Welcome to Nuka Cola.... Bttzzzzz.... Have a nice day." The unti said as it treaded on.

She watched the unit drone by, his arms wielding an AK-112 assault rifle. It seems there was some fighting going about and by the look of it, the humans lost. The inhuman voice was polite and candid, devoid of guile that the human voice was notorious for hiding.

"Weird." She put the letter back as she watched in morbid fascination the Robo-brain roll off to where ever he was heading..

"Too true smooth skin... tooo true." An ancient voice cackled.

"Whose there?"

"Don't worry smooth skin. Ol' Alfred don't bite... or don't bite hard." Came the reply, from the manager’s office. "Smith shows these nice people in." The voice said commandingly.

"Yes, Mr. Alfred." The Holo-aid replied in turn as he showed them the way. "Please, let me introduce you to the manager." He motioned his hand for them to follow.

Edden walked, following reluctantly, Ron behind her and Maggie behind Ron.

Ron relieved Mr. Jenson of his 9mm and loaded one of the magazines in before moving on. Maggie sniffed the dried brains and backed up. She growled then, and the robot came by with its rifle.

Ron had his hands on his guns the whole time. Then he heard the voice, and knew he should just follow Edden.

The bold black letters of the Managers office were big and bold on the frosted glass of the door.

Alfred Wescot
General Manager


Smith smiled his artificial smile at the group. "Here is the manager's office. Please step inside and meet... Bttzz... Mr. Wescot."

Edden turned the handle slowly and entered and then it hit her like a black fist to her respiratory system. The awful pungent aroma of stale cigarettes and cigars invade her breathing, causing her amber eyes to water from the tinge burn. But the other scent that was more over powering was the scent of perfume mixed with death. Death lingered in the air like a poisonous fume ready to eat the lungs alive.

All on the walls were some cool pre-war work propaganada posters with the Great Men and women of the armed services sipping Nuka cola and smiling. Or perhaps some other posters and well as plaques of achievement and old photos in frames that have been kept dust free.

But the scent caught her again and she saw the figure from behind a chair, smiling at her. Or at least smiling but he had no lips.

"I am Albert Wescot, General Manager of the Jean Nuka Cola products..." He said formerly, his round ghoulish red eyes blazing like the fury of hell. He had no lips, he was just walking festering sore. His flesh looked greenish and hardened with bone and some other organs almost visible. When he smoked his cigar, smoked escaped through the hollows in his chest cavity. His hands rested on the table, a clipboard, some coffee and a Cat's Paw magazine on the table.

Alfred was wearing what looked like an old executive suit, tie, and white shirt underneath, black trousers laden with dust.

His mouth formed a lipless smile. "Just fuckin' with you two! Can't help it, I mean not everyday some smoothies come in and well get to see the place. Can't say the last time I.. (cough) saw a (Hak) smoothie."
The man kept his hands on his knives, watching the ghoul. He didn't speak, watching the beast smoke and hack. He began to feel the hairs on his neck stand straight up.

"So, what are you two here for?" He looked at Ron and Edden, his red eyes scanning them carefully and thoroughly, as if looking into their very souls. "Ah, looks like you found a nice dog?" His boney fingers pointed at the dog named Maggie that sat down.

"Hmm, the damnm machines were buzzing about some dog." He gave the dog a wicked smile. He turned his sight from the dog and moved his sight to a stout looking man that was seen shaking hands with another wiry man in a picture frame. Albert seemed lost, his red eyes seem to have sunken deeper into his eyes. Faces of children and a woman were seen another picture.

"I will never see them again..." He whispered wistfully as he touched the figures on the picture with his bone fingers.

Edden found some sort of pity for the ghoul. In many ways, despite his mutation, she and Albert were the same; displaced, outside of time, lost.... She could feel it. At least he was still aware of who he was, Edden was still pondering on her origins. The red eyes and rotted flesh seem to convey the message of loss and pain. Something which Edden felt every time she wondered who she was and how she could do the things she did.

"Albert, I am here looking for something, something I seemed to have lost... For some reason, I was drawn to this place - like a magnetic pull." She knew what she was saying was vague and all she got from the old ghoul was a cocked eyebrow.

Durandal.... A name resonates in her mind and her vision turned from a lit room to a place of darkness and no sound. Just Edden standing alone. Before she could question the sudden abyss, it vanished and light came back, but the words Durandal rang in her ears.

Who is Durandal? Edden though not even knowing where the name came out form.

"Listen, I need to talk with someone named Durandal. I know he or she is here." It was a name and it felt right using it. She could feel the tension in air when she mentioned the name of Durandal. The ghoul looked like he was dead, if he was able to turn a color, he’d probably turn pale.

Albert stepped back as if recoiling from a sudden shock. "SHHHSSSS!!!" He placed one of his boney fingers by his lipless maw as he shushed Edden. "Don't ever speak that name aloud! Don’t Ever, smoothie. He hears all and sees all, and no one looks for Durandal unless they want their skin worn like a coat." His voice rasped.

He took a seat, reaching for a bottle of red fire water and placed it on the table. Grabbing three tumblers he placed them. "I suggest you take a drink... Cause I sure as hell need one." His voice flowed like the reddish liquid filling the tumblers. "Finest fire water this side of hell." He muttered as he chuckled under his breath in-between coughs and hacks.

"But before I start, I suggest you leave here... Never come back here..."

Edden looked at the small copper tinted liquid in the spotless tumbler. The words of nuka cola were scrolled in crimson red on the glass. At least they kept this place fairly tidy after all these years, She though as she looked at the tumbler to Ron and back to the ghoul who seemed scared as if the name its self had the power to devour his soul.

"Listen, Albert, I don't even remember or know this person Durandal, I just know that the name came to mind and it seems to me he may have the answers for me." She whispered so no one else could hear. She didn't have any idea that the Durandal he feared so much was hearing every word, so just for safety, she whispered, unaware that is was no different then screaming ones intentions aloud.

The Ghoul took a shot from his glass and made an expression that reminded her of those drunks when the fire water hit the system. It was revolting in humans, it was a thousand times more mortifying seeing a thing that best resembled a cadaver.

"You don't have to go with me, Mr. Wescot," The use of the ghoul's last name may invoke more co-operation by appealing to the side that still clinged to the old world. "Just show me the way."

The Holo-aid stood silent, looking at the trio curiously as if realizing some long buried truth. Maybe time was catching up with him.

Albert took another straight shot of the fiery liquid and coughed violently. The last hack sent a piece of rotted throat tissue on his desk. He looked at it sheepishly. "Damn it, I am coming undone." He took the piece and ate it; it tasted sour sweet to him.

"Tangy," He muttered. Returning to his bearings on Edden he looked at her cautiously, and shifting his head left to right to make sure no one was peeping.

Snap, click!

He opened the draw of his table and gave her a blue pass key for the elevator. He slid it across the desk and he sat back, drinking the fire water straight from the bottle. "If you wish to leave hell, you must first talk with his majesty." His words seemed like something a minister or riddler would say. "When you get down in hell... you must follow the path. A path no one saw in their life time. Hell, I never knew about it till those damn chinks bombed us. Friggin' reds, well, ol' Uncle Sam showed them, we bombed them stinkin' Red's back to the Stone Age." The ghoul's voice was thick with contempt and hate for the Communists. An inbred prejudice that didn't seem to die even after his transformation, maybe it even sharpened his hatred for them over time. After all, he was stuck in the place for maybe over a hundred years. Kept alive by god who knew what.

The ghoul swung around his chair and sighed. "I suggest you go now, normies... Be free of this hell. I can never leave this place." His hand waved them away out of his door.

"Good bye, Alfred Wescot. I hope you one day find your freedom. C'mon, Ron and Maggie, let's blow this joint." She took one last shot of rum in the whiskey tumbler and headed out the door. Closing the door behind her, they headed past the cubicles and headed for the elevator.

Right now, Edden was experiencing the emotion of pity. Pity and sympathy were new concepts to her, not that she was a heartless she-demon who ate little children, but it felt odd feeling this way, especially for the ghoul who was no content to sit in his office and slowly ebb in time. Probably a part of regaining the past was recalling memories and feelings thought lost.

Why do I feel this way? So confused.... Hmm, maybe its my period coming or something. Thank goodness those sanitary napkins I got from Moscow are still sturdy. She gave mental praise to the sanitary napkins (Tampons) that kept the red scoruge at bay, the bane of all women.

Her shotgun was in hand, fully loaded and she entered the elevator, key card in hand, she waited and thought hard before she slid it through the card panel. The choices ran through her head... In one hand, she could use the card and go down stairs and find the path through the technological hell Albert described. Of course, that didn't necessarily mean she would survive or Ron. For some reason, she was reluctant to sacrifice Ron or even the flea bitten mute she had grown a fancy to.

Now her second choice would be to just get out of the facility, regroup and come back.

Fuck it, fear is for cowards...

She swiped the card across the magnetic reader and the elevator. The mechanical beep was heard as the all clear level light rang and the elevator began its descent. No elevator music, nothing just the cold, eerie silence of an elevator descending to a lower level of the factory that no ones eyes were meant to see.

The red digital numbers began to scroll downwards, going from one to level four.... In five minutes they would reach the lower level and into hell.

1 *BING*

2 *BING*

3 *BING*


"C'mon, Ron, smile, we're going to hell." She gave Ron a small jab in the arm and she readied herself. It was like the idea of entering the fiery domain was fun.

Ron clicked his tongue, and Maggie came to his side... it was amazing how much the dog had attached to then scruffy man.

The captain checked both his Berettas, loading bullets into the spare clips on his belt, his fingers sliding over the cold metal. He took his rainbow knife out and tested the blade on a section of beard stubble... sharper than a razor, as usual.

Both of his foot-long bowie knives were in their respective sheaths crossing each other on the back of his belt. Both of his favorite knives, however, the 24-inch stillettos, were in their sheaths on each shoulder, the handles sticking up for easy access.

He took a Beretta in each hand and crossed his arms, waiting for the inevitable bell and ready for anything. Maggie whined and stood, as if anticipating something.

Level 4: Experiment and application.


4 - *BING*


The elevator arrived at its destination with an almost inaudible hiss of escaping air as the brakes kicked in and slowed its descent. However the elevator was ancient, and as the heavy metal cage hit the floor there was a distinct and ominous rumbling.
Moments after, the door slid open silently, unveiling what was behind. The mechanical voice of the elevator, frozen in time, faithfully presented its message, even if its meaning was lost on the present occupants of its cold innards.

You have reached level Four: Experimentation and Application. Clearance required: Ypsilon. Please be ready to show your ID and Security card. Thank you, have a nice day.

The hall that met the pair was long deserted. The light still shone brightly, powered by the endless energy of the fusion reactors hidden far in the depths of the earth. However no amount of power was able to stop the march of time. It was obvious to the Red Violin and her companion that there were no Mr Handy's here to uphold the illusion of pre-apocalypse neatness. To this the mummified pot-plants and dusty, at places grimy floor stood testiment. The walls were bare, the square tiles censoring the grey concrete.

The familiar golden gleam from the huge security bot, standing petrified in its crevice on the left wall was dulled by a layer of dust. It was watching the power field, buzzing an erratic red, which seemingly was the only entrance deeper into the facility. On its right side there was a horizontal slit set in the wall, a window at about chest level. Above it was the text,


SECURITY DESK

its blue font colour frayed away by time.

Obviously no-one was attending to it.

Edden formerly known as Charlyn plucked at the blue security card disk she was given to by derranged ghoul named Albert. A being convinced he was in hell and that well, he couldn't get out. Funny, Edden felt the same way. Holding the shotgun cupped under her arm she passed the magentic reader across the reader and waited the ping.

The low buzzing of the force field barrier was humming in her mind like a mantra, the kind she was taught when she was younger. It was from an old friend, one she couldn't even remember right now.
Everything was silent, a silence that seemed to drag into an eternity. The silent humming continued, unabated. Edden was just about to try the card again, when the red shimmering veil of the force field rippled one last time and phased out of existance.

*bzz*Warning! Forcefield deactivate.. *bzzz* *crackle*

The eerie calmness after the static death of the female voice somehow seemed malevolent, making the small hairs on Edden's skin stand up. Even the apparently fearless Ron couldn't help feeling a bit uneasy. The now-unimpended doorway lead into an alabaster white corridor which ended in another doorway, presently blocked by what looked like a massive, metal blastdoor. It had yellow-black stripes at its lower end.

"And how are we going to..."

Ron's question was interrupted by two things metal beginning to stir at the same time.

To the joy of the two, the blastdoor that blocked the final doorway into the complex began it's slow ascent into the ceiling, accompanied by silently flashing warning lights.

And even as the smiles of relief began forming on their faces, a movement caught the eye of Ron Spears. Turning his head ever so slightly, his eyes fell upon the huge golden security bot with a rocket launcher in one hand and a minigun in the other. Like a mirror image, it turned its head and looked straight at the two...

The heavy clanking feet of the Sentry Bot was enough to dwarf the beating of her frantic heart.

The heavy thud of the bots massive feet hit the cold-dura steel floor. The rest of the body was coming into view. The Red Violin crept backwards, her eyes locked on the robot and also on the security panel they just crossed.

The bots was busy making its forty five degree turn when Edden's lips moved, whsipering a plan to Ron. "Make for behind the field and reactive the shield."

Ron gave her a quizzical look that she could feel on the side of her face since she never lost eye contact with Bot.

Still, Ron's persistant stare was troubling Edden, so she explained. "The shield would send a a jolt through the bots system, frying the circuits. Think pulse bombs."

"Damnit, man..."

Ron's knuckles were white from gripping his Berettas so intently. He leaned over to listen to Edden's plan. He sighed, looking at the minigun and the launcher.

Before he could do anything, Maggie sprang forward, sprionting across the bot's field of vision. She made it into the room across the hallway, bullets from the minigun shattering floor tiles behind her. Ron sprang into action, running behind the security desk and slamming his palm onto the forcefield button, turning on the wall of high energy.

But the robot was in front of it, walking towards Edden and Maggie already. The field hummed into existence behind it. Roin got to the edge of the desk, legs tensed to spring.

"COME ON MAGGIE! RUN, YOU FURRY BITCH!"

The dog did, and the robot shot after it. She ran past Ron towards Edden--leaving the way clear.

The bullets sprayed towards whatever cover Edden managed to find--until a 9 inch combat knife buried deep in the robot's optical sensor, causing it to stop and spin briefly.

The remaining sensor caught one last thing before being knocked ass-backwards: the foot of Ron Spears.

The huge robot toppled completely backwards iunto the forcefield, and the minigun and rocket launcher fell from its grasp.

Ron poicked himself up, and walked back to the security desk, flipping the field off, Maggie running over to him and sitting in front of him, wagging her nub of a tail.
The bullet riddled wall showed the brunt of the robots aggression. Though armor piercing rounds, as was customerary of security and military bots and other ordiance.

The robots was fried, the inner circuits cooked giving off the pungent aroma of burnt wires. It was the sort of smell that you could taste at the back of your pallet and it was a scent she hated. The black smoke rose from the shell of the machine.

Edden saw the knife lodged in the machines single optical sensor and frowned. Idiots.

Reaching for Ron's hand, she helped him up and gave Maggie a head rub. "Thanks you two. If we survive this, I'll buy you whatever drinks you like." Edden gave a wan smile.

Attention all security personell, attention all security personell. Intruders detected in sub-level four. All available security personell report to your stations immediately.

The cold female voice rang out over the devastated entrance hall, calling up the ghosts of people who had worked there so long ago. The blastdoor had now opened completely, revealing behind it a stale and empty office complex. The walls of the grey cubicles were at places stained with ancient dried blood, bullet holes the size of fists, and long horizontal rips which looked more like claw marks than anything else.

The bright light of the entrance hall was here replaced with the kind of dim night-light most offices had after-hours. Some of the fusion-powered cubicle lights were still burning, others had been shut down. The air smelled of burning copper from the security bot's fried circuitry, and cold air from the ventilation system.

As the two slowly stepped through the doorway, the keen senses of the Red Violin picked up a sound - a sound of footsteps, from a creature that only moved with much difficulty. A certain smell also seemed to emit from one of the small alleyways leading further into the office complex...

The man put his foot on the bot's chest, Edden's words seeming far, far away now. He leaned down and grabbed the hilt of the knife, tearing it from the sensitive machinery.

Whirling the knife as he stood, he heard Edden, but didn't really listening... he heard the footsteps before she did. It sounded all-too familiar. Ghouls.

He sheathed the small knife, and pulled out one of the two 24" Bowie knives--his favorite tools of choice. He could even throw them if he had to. he twirled them expertly to make sure the cold air had not weathered the nylon grips any--or his joints.

His Berettas were holstered in the way of an unorthodox gunfighter, gun butts pointed towards the direction he was facing, the exact opposite wayu from normal.

He nodded his head and walked somewhat boldly into the room, running a finger down one of the humongous claw marks.

"God... DAYMaN..."

Edden held her breath as she watched the claw markings. Deja vu. Much like a bad memory long banished from the cortex now reinvoked to inspire a long forgotten terror back into the female's already cold heart.

Maybe it was the draft from the ventilation, the cold, godless air kissing her tender neck. "A bit nippy in here," she muttered to herself as she traversed across the bemoths armor plated chest.

Snapp.

The shotgun chambers were opened and the buckshot shells replaced with .12 gauge slug shells. Perfect for distance and pentration. The coating of teflon made it able to bipass most conventional armors. The red shells placed in her belt bandeleer and the blue slug shells inserted in the vacant chambers.

Edden kept her eyes focused ahead, not sure what to expect.

Turning a corner, the security guard arrived as called upon.


Program running (Zax 2.0) ... Diagnostic checks complete.

Accessing data base ... personell files ... searching...

...

Crane, Lee.

Position: Security, level 4.
Access: Alpha - Ypsilon


Former resident of Boise, born in 2038 to father John and mother Jane. Followed in his father's footsteps taking up a job as a security guard, getting a job with a sister company to Nuka Cola. Married Rose-Mary Hill in 2061, children Jonathan (b. 2062), Jennie (b. 2065). Got divorced in 2075. Guardianship given to mother Rose-Mary. Moved to Moscow the same year, following a reassignment to the Jane Nuka Cola factory.

Track record:

Impeccable, except for a few late arrivals and one discussion with the chief of staff concerning his imminent reassignment which almost resulted in a brawl. Subject is deemed to be of perfect psychological and physical health (last Psy evaluation March 2076).

... end of file ...



Lee Crane was dressed in a crumpled uniform which had been torn in several places. His face was indescribable, a putrid wreck of a visage. Only through the general shape, maybe the position of the mouth (despite the jutting teeth and swelled black tongue), or the nose (what was left of it), or the milky white eyes that seemed to be moving on their own accord, could you see that it had once been a human.

The ghoul's right hand was held like a child would imitate a gun, index and middle fingers jutting, the thumb serving as the cock. Currently it looked cocked and ready indeed, and pointed straight at the pair. Despite the mess of the face, it was somehow possible to discern emotions. Presently it looked eminently surprised.

"I can't imagine how you two got in here, but yer sure not getting any further! Come on now, drop your weapons, or me and the boys will have to get serious!"

The corridor behind him was empty. There was a fine green mist rising from around him. He pointed his imaginary gun at them, and he didn't look quite as cocky as he would've wanted to.

Ron scoffed, but decided to play along with this game. He seemingly reluctantly sheathed his knife and his Beretta... and put his hand on the back of his head, acting as if he were scratching his scruffy hair.

The ghoul couldn't see either two-foot Bowie knife, so he didn't know Ron was preparing himself to throw one.

And at the first sign of trouble, he would.

Edden felt the tension emitting from Rom like rads from a blast center. She walked over carefully, playing along with the ghoul, which was odd to her. Usually, the urge for violence was dulled by the presence of the ghoul. It wasn't pity. No, that was an emotion that was dead to her. Her stride slowed as she noticed the claw marks in the wall.

The etching was something so familiar. A deja vu, as it was called. The fear was growing but died as quickly as it came when she realized this derranged ghoul could have his uses.

"Ease up, barve." The voice was unusually silky and calm, even for Edden.

Hmm, a smooth talker. Interesting. I learn more about my lost soul everday. The entire monologue was masked behind a calm and impartial face.

She whispered to Ron. Edden came to the middle, Ron at her back and the ghoul to her right.

"I have safe conduct from Alfred. He said I can venture into hell. Are you our guide?"

The ghoul lowered his gun at the mention of the General Manager. With some disgust the two watched his features rearrange themselves to form a rather dumbstruck expression.

"Mr.Wescot? Well, if he said you could come down here, I guess that's alright."

Obviously, this ghoul hadn't been very bright before turning, and the process hadn't exactly sharpened his mental capacity either. He gave a horrifying grin, showing his toothless gums while he "holstered" his "gun".

"Yeah, there was some talk of me acting as the tour guide, what with the regular...eh...having called in sick a lot lately."

The ghoul smiled apologetically, easing up as much as a rotting, practically skeletal entity such as himself could. He seemed entirely unaware of their surroundings, the blood, bullet-holes, scars and lighting. If you had a very vivid imagination, you could almost picture the young security guard stand in his newly-pressed uniform among the bustling staff of this huge, sterile facility.

However reality returned as a high-pitched shriek sounded from somewhere within the cubicle maze. At the sound, Lee Crane jumped and peered nervously over his shoulder.

"But we better hurry, the Stalkers don't much like intruders, especially smoothies like yourself."

With that, he impatiently motioned for the two to follow him, and with the characteristic gait of a ghoul he limped into the darkened labyrinth.

Ron slowly and silently pulled his long knife from his sheath as the ghoul turned, looking back over his shoulder as he walked away. Maggy trotted after him, resembling more of a Clydesdale pony than anything else.

"Hey, Crusty. I got a question for you... what exactly is a stalker?"
The shriek cut into Edden and the very room seem to blur and shake, as if sending her some place else.

The mental mosaic of endless night and large brick colored wall filled the dream scape of Edden's mindscape. The place where all her past, present and possible future lay hidden. On the walls, graffiti of past sins, desires, hopes and people where forever etched upon its weather beaten surface. The avatar of Edden stood before it and appraised the barrier with cold awe. She looked the same as she did in the real world. The wall was massive, seeming to go left and right and upward towards the blackened heavens forever.

Somewhere she had already treaded in the past, but for some reason the safety barriers erected in her mind didn't allow the feeble famine image's futile poundings on the reinforced brick and mortar of her mind to give her access to that part of her past.

Her mental avatar screamed and kicked the gate. She was awake again.

It was for a brief and there seemed no laps in real time. She followed the ghoul and Ron's lead. The shriek still sent shivers down her spine.

"Can you take us to Durandal." Edden cut straight as always. Sometimes too straight. "Before our unfriendly guest arrive."

Ignoring Ron's question, the ghoul shambled into the maze of office cubicles. Unlike the higher levels, the cubicles were void of bodies. However, in the ghost-like light, dark splotches of dried blood were apparent in many of the small working spaces.

"I'm not the best tour-guide, but I'll do my very best!"

The ghoul formerly known as Lee Crane gave a ghoulish grin over his shoulder as the trotted on, followed by the pair. More empty cubicles came into view as they advanced further in, and the entrance with the destroyed security bot was soon lost in the twists and turns of the office complex.

"These offices here are actually nothin' less than a cover for the real thing. Hell! I worked here for for nearly two years and didin't know a damned thing about it!"

They were moving with some speed now, and the full scale of the destruction within the thin walls of the cubicle maze became evident. A swift, incredibly deadly CQB had clearly taken place here. The entrance to one cubicle had been entirely blocked by several desks placed on one another. Between the cracks all that could be seen was a single office lamp, blinking on and off like it probably had for the better part of a century.

The wall on another had been shredded to pieces, and soon it became harder to walk through the debris on the floor.

No bodies, however.

"But when the bombs started dropping, there were suddenly all these strange people we've never seen before all among us! Said they had come from "below" and that it was "a hell down there".

They came to an intersection, where a rocket-propelled grenade of some kind had hit the roof and caused tons of concrete to rain down. It was strange to see. No-one had moved a rock since it happened, everything was still, like it had happened yesterday. Except for a single, skeletal hand that jutted out from beneath the piles of black, artificial building material.

It held a holo-disk.

The ghoul merely continued on his path, taking a right around the pile.

"Sorry about the mess. Most of the Mr Handy's seem to be out of order, but I'm sure Maintenance will send one down to us any time soon!"

He added, almost as an afterthought:

"We're almost there. Damned big doors in the wall..."

The woman formerly known as Charlyn picked at the holo-disk in the out stretched skeletal hand of the dead security officer long buried under a ton of dusty concrete blocks. By the lock of it, you can deduce, that he may have been alive as he held the disk out, hoping someone could be warned.

The soft tap of a hammer could be heard, and as the trio headed around the bend of endless cubicles and other odd assortment of pre-war carnage, they could see a ghoul with his back turned, nuka cola grape colored shirt on, torn and warn seeming pounding something with a hammer. He had no hair, except maybe tiny wisps of black that was attached to what remained of his flesh. He had no nose, but both his eye were intact, and one tooth had a gold cap on it. He looked more leathery and dried out then moist like most ghouls. On the table near him was a a silver Wattz 1000 Civilian model Laser pistol and some clip boards and a stack of different holo-tapes, and what looked like a dead rat staked down by a kitchen knife.

"D'damnn, ratz and gremlins... always getzen in my stuff. No wonderz I never got promoted." A thick wad of drool hits some dry rotted papers.

He turns around. "Hey, what are you skinnies doin' down here? Don't you know this is no place for friggin' normies? Lee? What the leapen jezus did you bring dem down here? Lucy is out and hungry."

His milk white eyes filled with distress then hate. The trio stood silent.

"Well? Speaks up?"

It would be a major understatement to say one could get used to seeing a ghoul. Either that person was tripping on some stale chem, or they were just crackers. Edden was none of the above.

"We were granted safe conduct by the manager." Edden showed the document Albert Wescot had given her. "Me and my companions came to see Durandal. Or more importantly we’re expected."

The ghoul’s face seemed to fall, as if it weren't already in a state of decay already. He scratched his partial rotted chin and flicked some of the dried, dead flesh that to Charlyn’s eye looked like dried bugger snot. “Fine. Your funeral smoothie.” He looked at the document and handed it back. The ghoul coughed violently into his hand and whipped whatever came out through his fallen nose and mouth on his shirt. Charlyn’s eyes dotted on the smear like an eagle. It was thickening blood.
The ghoul began to mutter to himself, shifting uneasily on its worn sneakers. The immortal classic high-toppers that seemed to never die, no matter what time we lived in.

The ka-tet, the trio of a mad woman, a cracked commando and a stray dog followed the ghoul named Lee towards the sealed room where they were to see the great Wizard of Oz. It wasn’t the emerald city, but it seemed close enough.


TO BE CONTINUED...

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