His Sorrow

A chilly air blew through the desert one night, as four Drifters settled around a campfire. They had just gotten back from defeating a great evil earlier that day, one that would have turned Filgaia into nothing more than a home for Demons. As the fire crackled around them, they took comfort in their victory.

All that was, except one. His name was Jet Enduro. Always distant from his teammates, the silver haired lad with ethereal violet eyes sat near a rock at the edge of the camp. This resulted in him not gaining the full heat of the fire, but Jet didn't care. It didn't matter to him, especially after what he'd just found out.

Over five and a half years ago, somewhat closer to six years now, he had awoken in a bed in the Little Rock Saloon. It felt as though he'd just come to after a long sleep, and an even longer nightmare. But he had no memories of why he felt that way. In fact, he had no memories at all. The man in the large tan overcoat and floppy hat—which covered most of his short brown hair as well as somewhat hiding his blue eyes—told the boy that he had been found in the Wastelands, unconscious and near death. So the man took him to this saloon, in order to help him recover. Upon learning he had no name, and no memories, this stranger bestowed Jet with the name he now called himself by, as well as an ARM named Airget-lamh B/V2. Then, he made Jet his apprentice as a Drifter. A few months later, he left Jet to his own devices.

Over the next five years, the young man without a past traveled in search of treasure. He had no cares for memories, or how to learn who he really was. That was, until he met HER. The daughter of the man who had taken him in; Virginia Maxwell. She promised to help him find his past, and she succeeded. But what he learned was something that no person in this world can ever be truly prepared to find out.

Jet was an android, created by a group of crackpot scientists; one of whom was his rescuer, Werner Maxwell, and three more who were the enemies of his team. His name came from the son of one of those scientists, a boy who'd died while trying to transfer DNA in order to give the creation a form of his own. Originally, they were to call him Adam Kadmon. But after a disaster, Jet had somehow survived, and Werner had rescued him for some reason. For some ulterior purpose, the young man now suspected, one quite like what he'd gotten himself into with these three wackos. He'd played right into the Council's hands.

What was left for him now? He had learned who he really was, but didn't like it. Even if he said he didn't care about memories, this one wasn't going to leave him alone. It would follow him, haunting Jet until the day he died. Even the ARM he wielded was created for the purpose of being a tool for Jet to use in following the orders of his creators. There was no freedom for the boy, only an endless cage of despair.

"I can't take it anymore," he whispered, "There's no way to rid myself of this wicked memory. I should have left those idiots to their own devices long ago. Stupid chatterbox, having to convince me to stay. Maybe if I allow myself to be buried under five feet of falling rocks, I can get this thing out of my head."

He walked over to the edge of the cliff. Although not desperate enough for suicide, yet, Jet had decided to allow himself a very bumpy trip down. Hopefully, a konk on the head would jolt this from his system. Then, he could go on being what he once was, a heartless Drifter only in it for the payout at the end of the mission. A few more steps, and he would be free of the chains that the Council of Seven made.

Suddenly, Jet felt a tug on his scarves. Then, he fell backwards and onto the desert ground. 'It has to be Gallows, only he'd be that brazen to pull me like that. And stupid. Because they all know how I can get when I'm mad. Besides, I don't think Clive or Virginia could muster up the strength to do something like that,' he thought. Opening his eyes, he prepared to slug the foolish Baskar, then return to trying to lose his memories once more. But he didn't see the usual smirk of the ex-priest upon looking up, he saw another's angry face. The face of a young girl with long brown hair and blue eyes. The face of Virginia Maxwell.

She demanded, "And just what did you think you were doing? Trying to let yourself get killed? But I'm not about to let that happen. I couldn't live with myself if one of my close friends just died because he was a fool. As leader of this team, it's my job to protect each and every one of you, even from yourselves."

Jet sat up, and looked her in the eyes. "Well, what if I was to say that I don't care? This is the only way I'll get rid of those stupid memories I uncovered about my past. You're the one who told me that you wanted to help me find them, and I did. Now, I want to lose them again. Since you can't make them vanish in a puff of smoke, I figured emotional trauma might do the trick. I wasn't going to bite the big one in that fall, just slide down the side and hit my head a couple hundred times. So what if I become messed up as a result, as long as I don't have to think about those things that Leehalt said to me back in Deus ex Machina." He turned away from her, and began to get up again. But before he did, she grabbed his hand and pulled.

"Jet, there has to be another way," Virginia stated, "How about this. I'll help you feel better about the whole thing. Don't worry about what that jerk said, he seems like the type who made enemies on street corners, if he was the same when he was human. And he wonders why my mother never married him. But let me be the one who influences your thinking, I do things because I care, not for any benefits. I have no gains from helping you, or from letting you fall to your demise. So, I'll do what's truly best for you. Dying won't change anything, it'll just tell Leehalt that you're a disposable machine. But, if you let me help you, then you can yell into his face that you've found out how to be human, and can live a normal life."

He looked at her, how she thought of everyone before herself. What was it that drove this girl onwards in life? Her convictions, so unlike that of traditional Drifters, seemed way out of place here. But she'd still managed to accomplish more with the help of her friends these last few months, than most if not all teams of Drifters or single wanderers do in years of traveling. It almost told him that he could trust her.

"Whatever, do whatever the heck you want. But when you're done having your fun, then I'm going to drive these memories from my brain. I'll fire the Airget-lamh at myself if I have to," he informed her. Then he saw she'd planned for that, and was holding his ARM with all of the shells taken out of it. And he'd left his extra ammo back at camp, thinking he wouldn't have far to go in order to begin his life anew without pain. The ball was in Virginia's court now, she would have to get up to bat and see if she could help him.

- - - -

Teefa's Last Words...

Don't be fooled by the appearance of this chapter. There's a lot more Romance than Drama, and a slight bit more Humor than Drama. It really isn't that doom and gloom from Chapter 2 onwards. I wanted to do something with Jet and his memories. Don't ask how it can be all of Romance, Humor, and Drama. Well, Jet's pretty much in a real dramatic moment here, and you'll love the hilarium that Virginia undertakes to protect Jet. Plus the fluffy Jet/Virginia moments that I came up with.