City of Angels
Chapter One
April 3, Year Unknown
"My, my, look at you. Wrapped in blankets and fast asleep. Who ever thought such a beast could look so peaceful? Train your ears, my child, and listen to your orders."
"You know what you've seen, but your body cannot recall it. You have felt the pain, but do not remember the taste of your own blood. You are not the same as you used to be, but you are still just as beautiful. It is a shame the mirror is broken, or else you could have had your questions answered by simply opening your eyes. But your mission is not finished, my child. Wake up. Face Reality."
Suddenly, there was light. All things had been reborn, as it seemed. A woman's eyelids peeled back as she awoke for the first time in quite a while, but she wasn't very subtle about it. Her brawny figure shot up, blankets falling around her, and the first word that exploded from her throat rang out through the building.
"MARCUS!"
Her voice was rough and strong, matching her strong body. Her hair was stiff and spiked, possessing a blue tint in brown, matching her extraordinary eyes. Her pupils were smeared across the midnight-blue iris, and the whites lined with a fading purple. She was clearly an interesting sight.
This woman brought herself to scan the room she was held in, finding it mostly crafted from wood. There was a boarded up window on the southern wall, adjacent to her bed. A chair was placed tilted beside the mattress, and a few medical supplies were kept in a partially broken bookshelf.
A doorway was on the northern wall, where she could see out into a dimly lit hallway. There were voices on the other side, and then footsteps. She held her breath deep when a man entered the room and crossed his arms at her. He wore a rattan hat and worker's overalls, and had grown a gruff gray beard. He was obviously a farmer.
"Well, now. You look like you've seen a ghost!"
A cheery voice escaped his haired lips, and a grin shot across his face, sending wrinkles to encase his expression. She simply gaped at him, as if death was around the corner.
"My family and I," He started, swinging over to the chair by her bed and dropping down, all the while groaning as if it pained him to move.
"We were beginning to think you would never wake up. Hell, I had to scrape you off the side of the road. You had brahmin hooves in you like a field of cow pies."
The woman stiffened, shifting herself in bed when he came closer. She found herself wearing only underwear, and bruises had painted her body all over. Her head ached, and she pushed her palm against her forehead in attempt to make it stop. That brought no positive effect.
"Figured you were bound to have a headache." He nodded, leaning over in his chair.
"You 'member anything? Got a name?"
She blinked, then squinted, looking down at her lap as she tried to process the memories. There were none, only the groggy voice of someone speaking beside her. Returning her gaze to the man before her, she bit her bottom lip and slowly shook her head.
"No? Well, you can at least say it aloud. Heard you scream from the dining table."
This interesting woman then opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated as she ran over what to actually say to the man.
For one, she had no idea where she was, but considered it was some sort of ranch in the west by the sound of his accent. She didn't know this man's name, and that was something that was important. But what if he knew something about what happened? She wanted to know everything.
"Perhaps I should start with this to make you feel more at home."
He sat up and held his hand out to her.
"The name's Ralph. Once I get you all clothed up and presentable, I'll introduce you to everyone else."
Her eyes dropped to his hand, and she paused, not quite sure what to do. But it must have been human instinct, because she took it and shook.
"Whoa!" He chuckled when he pulled away, rubbing his hand with the other.
"Ma'am, with strength like that, I'm surprised it was a brahmin that took you out, and not a mutie."
The woman cleared her throat.
"Sorry... Ralph."
He smiled and patted her shoulder, then hopped up from his chair. Ralph made his way over to a footlocker by the bed, which she must have missed beforehand. He clicked it open, and pulled out leather armor and some very destroyed rags, which he lifted up.
"Does this look familiar?"
She stared at it, taking in their odd color choice. Faded purple smudged with brown, and a golden-yellow strip down the middle. She shook her head, not coming to any realizations with it.
"Alright, well, put this leather on. Probably better than walking around in your under garments."
She took it and slipped the jacket on over her head, then pushed her legs over the side of the bed and pulled up the pants.
"Can you stand fine?" Ralph asked before having his question answered when she came to her feet. She stepped into her boots, then looked at him expectantly. The farmer examined her in the outfit, seemed to think it fit her, then motioned for her to follow.
Ralph took her to the first floor of the expansive farmhouse, which was generally made out of wood and scrap metal. The front room had a sofa and a TV, and they passed a few bedrooms on the way, but the dining room must have been the most decorated area in the house. That made sense to her, considering the family Ralph had probably spent a lot of time in the room.
There were three people sitting at the table in the middle of the room. They lifted their heads and smiled at her, dropping utensils from their plates of meat pies. There was an older woman, most likely Ralph's wife, and two children. A dark haired little boy who seemed far from a bath, and a delicate little girl with wavy blonde hair.
"Hey, it's the Road Kill!" The boy called out, rather loud, at that. The older woman snapped.
"Jason, that's rude! You know better."
She couldn't help but smirk at the name, thinking it as a decent enough welcome to the home already. Ralph pointed to the older woman.
"That's muh'wife. Her name's Clara. You've already met Jason, our boy."
Ralph then motioned to the little girl, who looked up to the woman and smiled.
"And this is our little Annabelle."
Clara smiled and raised an eyebrow.
"She got a name, Ralph?"
He shook his head, looking more confused than upset.
"She can't 'member. But we gotta call her somethin'."
The nameless woman crossed her arms as a shy grin spread across her face. She looked at Annabelle, who watched happily back. There was something about her wavy hair that reminded her of someone she couldn't quite remember. Her gentleness and warming smile. The woman then turned her gaze to Jason, who dug uninterestedly at his food.
"I'm Road Kill." She said, and they all turned to see her shy grin turn into a full smile.
Chapter Two
April 7, Year Unknown
"Wake up."
Road Kill opened her eyes and squinted in disorientation. Something was pulling on her left arm.
"Wake up, Road Kill. C'mon..."
She rolled her head over to see Annabelle tugging on her. The girl already had dressed up in her pre-war dress and shoes. Road Kill sat up and pulled her arm away so she could rub her eyes, and with that, she spoke up in a groggy voice.
"Yeah? What's up."
"No one's awake to play with me..."
Road Kill looked at the clock beside her bed, reading the time as 6:37 A.M. She sighed from exhaustion, but couldn't quite figure out why Annabelle was waking her up instead of someone more in the family. She had only been there for about a week so far, but apparently they had taken a liking to her.
"Okay, I'll play with you."
Annabelle cheered silently a bounced on her toes, she then danced from the room, beckoning for the woman to follow.
Annabelle's room was just like the others, despite the choice of decoration and toys. Curtains had been draped over almost everything, and pillows were jumbled over the floor and in corners. She pulled a curtain away from her bookshelf and removed a teddy bear and a doll, both a victim of rough play and the war. Road Kill took note of the way Annabelle walked, elegantly on the platforms of her feet, causing her hair to have a lively spring. The little girl turned to her and tossed her the teddy bear.
"Here! You be Ricky, and I'll be Sarah."
Road Kill stared down at the bear for a moment before taking in a breath and smiling.
"What's Ricky like?"
Annabelle flopped into a pile of pillows, her legs crossed. The woman joined her, sitting with one knee up and resting her arm on it.
"Oh, Ricky is really mean guy. He's super strong and handsome."
She raised an eyebrow at the child, frowning slightly.
"He's mean?"
Annabelle bit her lip and nodded. Slowly, the nodding turned to a form of hesitation, and then evolved to a shake of the head.
"Well, he is to lots of people, but he's really nice to Sarah. He thinks she's pretty."
Road Kill gave a look of curiosity, purely interested on how the child had formed such a strange personality to this 'Ricky' character. She looked down at Sarah in her hands, and motioned her head towards her. Annabelle grinned.
"Sarah's pretty!" She started, flattered by the questioning. The child was obviously excited to play the female part.
"She's quiet, though. Real quiet. And she was in some place all alone, until he came and saved her!"
Completely disoriented by that comment, Road Kill decided to roll with it. It was best not to ask to many questions, or else she might become even more confused. She held Ricky forward, ready to play the scene out with Annabelle, who dropped Sarah and started to voice her.
"Help me, please! I'm all alone and I'm hurt. Help! Help!"
Road Kill pretended to walk over to Sarah with Ricky, and she spoke in the deepest voice she possibly could.
"I'll save you, pretty lady! And I'll make you right as rain."
She knew how childish she sounded playing a horribly scripted game with the child. And there was something inside of her that made her feel inadequately sad. Annabelle let out a giggle.
"You sound funny like that." Road Kill pushed away the sorrow and cracked a smile.
"Sound funny like what, Sarah?"
Annabelle's giggle turned into a laugh, where Road Kill joked with her more until it became a full out fest. She rolled around in the pillows as the woman poked at her.
"I'll save you, Sarah! Then we'll eat Sugar Bombs together!"
Her overly loud laughing must have caused a few people in the family to wake up, because Jason stepped in the room, bucket in his hand. He had a tired expression on his face, and Annabelle and Road Kill rotated to look at him.
"Hey, R.K. Dad said you'd help me tend the bighorners."
Her smile faded slightly, and she stood up from the pile of pillows, nodding. As Jason exited the doorway, Road Kill started out, then looked back at the girl on the floor.
"We can play later, 'kay?"
Annabelle smiled, and picked up her toys. Then, Road Kill went after Jason to aid him with the animals.
"I hate these stupid things."
He grumbled, tossing a few grains out into the pen to them. Road Kill crossed her arms and shuddered at the sight of them. Ever since she woke up she felt an uneasiness towards animals like brahmin. She held a bucket in her right hand, and tipped it over to fill the troth so the beasts could drink.
"Dad says there's something wrong with you."
Road Kill looked at the teenage boy somewhat blankly as he continued to feed the bighorners. She let her hands drop to her side and became lost in thought. She wasn't sure if Ralph had meant that in a rude way or not, but it sounded as if he didn't want her there anymore. The thought of turning and leaving crossed her very mind. Road Kill sighed and leaned on the fence of the pen.
"I guess there is something." She gave a half-assed smirk.
"Look at me, I'm basically a blueberry with my hair and eyes."
Jason chuckled, then wiped his greasy hair back.
"I want my memory back." She lowered her gaze to the dirt ground,
"And I don't see how I'll find it by staying here."
The boy frowned, then scooted closer to her. She could sense his sudden sorrow and felt the empathy.
"You're gonna leave?"
Chapter Three
May 6, Year Unknown
She stood on the front porch, a bag over her right shoulder and a sledgehammer propped on the left. Items that had been provided by the family in the way of protection and survival. Road Kill knew that one step from the house would mean she was on her own, and she respected that. Annabelle didn't.
When saying her goodbyes to the family, the child clung her leg like a lost puppy, tears pouring from her eyes as she begged her not to go. It practically killed the woman, but what had to be done was now in act.
Ralph watched from the window as Road Kill gazed up to the sky, as if she had never seen the world so clear before. He sighed when she made her first move out into the great Mojave Wasteland. It was the start of her new life for the second time in about a month. It was an awakening.
Chapter Four
July 30, 2281
"I can feel in my bones that I'm not used to the outside world. I've lived in solitude, peace, tranquility. I've thrived from the walls of an unknown prison – paradise. This is not my home."
She lived off of the dirt of the land, scavenging old buildings and dumpsters for anything of use to her. At one point, Road Kill managed enough caps to purchase a minigun and ammo, which was quite the advancement for her. She felt strong and untouchable then.
Suddenly on that day, she passed a man in a hat and duster, guitar by his side. They conversed quite some time about their lives and their lack of info on it, until both of them decided to go their separate ways for the time being, the man saying he would send for her if he ever found a rightful place to preform.
"Just call me Road Kill." She smiled to him as he hiked his guitar over his back.
"Road Kill. 'Til next time."
August 2, 2281
Road Kill pushed herself up a long road to a town which she had spotted on the horizon. Adventure had taken over her soul, and she was also in need of medical supplies and food. It didn't take her long to find out it was a practical town of mutants, upon approaching the gate, a dark green one addressed her. He gave her an odd look for a short time, until she waved awkwardly.
"Uh, hey. I was looking for a place to get some supplies...?"
"Right," He cleared his throat, attempting to wipe the expression on his face, but failing miserably.
"Welcome to Jacobstown... Ma'am. You're free to walk around, just don't stare at the Nightkin. They don't like people looking at them."
Road Kill blinked for a second at the sound of his voice, then squinted in thought. No one came to mind in the short time she had known people, and it troubled her with a great amount of frustration.
"Right..." She said to herself, and he repeated again,
"Right..."
The woman moved past him, but the both of them still seemed unable to remove their eyes from each other. The connection was broke when a Jacobstown brahmin past between them and Road Kill ran from it.
Chapter Five
August 12, 2281
Road Kill explored the western Mojave for a few days until she came upon a small entryway to a canyon. She squeezed in through the tight fit, and proceeded down a short pathway to the edge of a cliff. A black man sat, blankly watching the winds below sweep over the broken highways and buildings. It was a phenomenal sight, taking her breath away. Road Kill lied her eyes on the man, all alone and dusted with dirt. His gray trench coat had a symbolization of the American Flag painted on the back, and his dark hair was strained into dreadlocks. He kept a gas mask on his face, for reasons unknown.
"There's something wrong with you, too." He said, a deep, smooth voice escaping his throat like a DJ of some Jazz radio station. Road Kill didn't respond, only watched him as he stood up.
"Tell me, why are you here?"
She swallowed before speaking, a lump had formed from the sheer beauty of the place.
"I'm looking for my memories."
"And, do you suppose, they're here? In the Divide?"
There was something about the way he spoke that seemed he was full of knowledge, knowledge she wanted. He turned his head and looked at her with glossy brown eyes, and she lowered her head. He was right, why was she here? It was a question worth asking herself, considering she knew nothing of this place and longed more for answers then adventure. Road Kill made no sound when she rotated and begun to walk back to the Mojave, but the man did contrary.
"It's a lonesome road back to the Mojave, and you've just come all this way. Why not sit down and tell me again what you seek?"
She looked over her shoulder at him, watched as he sat back down, and she joined him. After a few seconds in sharing the view with the stranger, she told him all she knew. Her wakening on the farm, the supposed stampede that wrecked her. She spoke about the odd moment she had with the mutant at Jacobstown, and the terrible sorrow she felt playing with Annabelle and her dolls. The man thought it over, but couldn't find a good enough connection.
"What's your name?" He asked after a moment of silence, and she shrugged.
"People just call me Road Kill." He seemed shocked by how horrible that sounded as a name, but accepted it as a sudden bond of their friendship.
"I'm Ulysses."
August 15, 2281
"Buddy, toss me the table!"
It hadn't been long since Road Kill and Ulysses settled peacefully in the crooked building in Junction 7 of the Divide. Immediately, the woman had taken liberty of redesigning the place to fit her and her friend's needs. Two beds had been made with American Flag blankets, and Ulysses had spray-painted his symbol above his. She had gathered a table and two chairs to place by the window in the kitchen, and a fridge and rusting stove. There was also a small radio in the bedroom, to which she'd listen to the Black Mountain radio station on any occasion that fit necessary.
"Toss you the table?!"
Ulysses pulled the new table they had gotten over to the ladder to the roof and lifted it up over his head in a struggle.
"Yeah! C'mon. It's easier than carrying it up the ladder. Here, just bounce it off your hands and I'll grab it."
Road Kill lied over the edge of the roof and stuck her arm into the hatch, where Ulysses forced it up to her. She caught the leg of it and pulled in onto the roof with out a single problem. Even after the days they had settled together, he still wasn't used to her strength.
Road Kill carried the table over to the overhang she had built off of the side of the building and placed it down between the two chairs. She sighed when it was done, then smiled. The house was as finished as it would get at the moment, and she was happy with her work.
"What about the hole in the ceiling?"
She looked down at him through it, and shrugged.
"The sky looks really pretty at night. It makes it easier to sleep."
Road Kill jumped into the hole, startling Ulysses when she landed beside him. She threw herself into her bed and crossed her arms behind her head. He did the same in his own mattress, then joined her in gazing up to the moon and stars.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to it..." The woman said quietly, then shut her eyes and let herself slowly drift to sleep.
Chapter Six
August 27, 2281
"Question... would you rather have died with me, or remained alive with only my voice?"
"Huh?" Road Kill looked away from the window as Ulysses touched her arm. They sat at the kitchen table together, the only thing between them being their hands. The man raised an eyebrow at her when she rubbed her eyes.
"Did you say something...?"
He shook his head in wonder, then cleared his throat as she shifted in her chair.
"What's on your mind?"
She sighed and returned her gaze to the window, where she lied her head in her propped up palm.
"The farm... I want to go back."
"Well? Why don't you?"
Road Kill gave a slight chuckle before answering him. She knew there was a reason she liked him, it was by the fact that he never held her back.
"They probably wouldn't remember me, it was a good few months ago."
Ulysses stood up from the table and left to the bedroom, leaving Road Kill curious of his morals for suddenly dismissing the conversation. He came out not to long later with a bag in his hand and went over to the fridge beginning to pull out cans and nonperishable foods. He dropped them in the bag, and Road Kill rose from her seat.
"What are you doing?" She asked, and he didn't stop his motions for a second when he responded.
"Packing for the trip."
September 3, 2281
Road Kill caught sight of the farmhouse down the Mojave dust path, and she poked Ulysses' arm excitedly, then jogged ahead. All the while her minigun ammunition pack bouncing upon her shoulders. He pushed himself forward to keep up with her, but her long, muscular strides out powered his, and he fell behind a few yards by the time she made it to the front door.
They had been traveling for a few days then, living off the land and the food they had brought along. They cooked over small campfires and slept on makeshift mattresses. Something the both of them and slowly grown used to by the months they've spent in the wild.
Road Kill sensed something different about the house the moment she stepped on the porch. It seemed older, and the wood creaked louder than it had before, but she quickly shook the feeling off. It had been a while since she had been there; Things were bound to change in the time.
The woman knocked on the door, her strength rattling it on its hinges. There was a period of silence, until there were footsteps. The door swung open, revealing someone unfamiliar to her. He was tall, square jawed. Dark hair stuck to his forehead and he held a dull emptiness in his eyes. He looked her up and down and squinted.
"Do I know you?" He asked, voice raspy. He must have been a smoker. Road Kill scratched the back of her head and looked past him into the shadowy house.
"Uhh... is Ralph here?"
Slowly, his eyes became more wide, and he quickly shook his head.
"No. Ralph died about 40 years ago. Who's asking?"
Road Kill gaped. It didn't seem like it had been 40 years since she had last saw him, it only felt like a few months. Perhaps she was at the wrong house, and there was a Ralph that had died here. Or maybe she was just going plain crazy. Ulysses stood back from the situation, staring intently at the woman.
"I'm asking. Road Kill." She said flatly, and the man's jaw dropped. She then saw the resemblance of the person in front of her. His hair, his face, his attitude. This was Jason, the young boy she had known, apparently about 40 years ago.
"Shit, you haven't aged a bit..." Jason shook his head in dismay, then brought a palm to his greasy forehead.
"How...? You look exactly the same! What the hell is wrong with you?"
There was an abrupt tap on her shoulder, to which Road Kill turned around to look down upon a short woman. Her white-blonde hair was frazzled and choppy, and her eyes were a dull blue. She wore a tattered blue dress and carried a rifle on her back. She handed a letter to the woman, and promptly walked away without a single word. Road Kill looked down at the letter, and seeing the other men were clearly interested in what it said, she read it aloud.
"Road Kill,
Promises are promises, and I wanted to tell you I just got a job at the Tops! I preform every night at 10 now. If your by the strip sometime, come and watch. It's free!
-L.D."
As a grin spread across her face, Ulysses and Jason looked at each other. They both pondered on who this 'L.D.' was, not knowing very much about her travels and friends.
"Jason," She said, folding the note and sticking it in her pocket.
"Why don't you come with us to the strip?"
Chapter Seven
September 7, 2281
The small party of three made their way across the street to the Tops, somewhat on edge because of Road Kill's pissy mood. The 2000 caps she had to pay to the gatekeeper for entry to the strip was money she had been saving for ammunition. She grew even more agitated upon entering the casino her friend was playing at, where the guards asked her to hand over her weapons. They had a little trouble stashing her minigun under the desk.
"So, who's your friend, R.K.?" Jason asked, walking not to far behind her as they made their way up the steps to the stage room.
"He calls himself the Lonesome Drifter. He plays guitar."
He gave a hum as a response, and Road Kill threw open the doors to the stage room. Luckily, they were there just in time, and they picked a table in the middle just as the Lonesome Drifter made his way onto the stage. He swung his guitar around to the front and adjusted the microphone.
"This one goes out to my friend in the crowd. She knows who she is."
Road Kill blushed lightly, then closed her eyes as he started to play. There was a soothing guitar intro, light and welcoming. And once he began to sing, that's when she fell into a trance.
"Oh, give me a home where the bighorners roam.
Where the mole rat and fire gecko play.
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And my skin is not glowing all day.
Home, home on the wastes,
Where the mole rat and fire gecko play.
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word,
And my skin is not glowing all day.
Where the rads ain't to high, the water's not bad
The radscorps are playful and mild
Oh I would not exchange this home on the wastes
For all the big cities so wild.
Home, home on the wastes
Where the Master's great armies once played -"
"What." Road Kill coughed flatly as her eyes shot open. Ulysses and Jason looked at her, both confused from the sudden outburst. All the while, the music continued to play in the background, even when the lights went out and left her alone in the dark. She drew her breath thin as it shook, and the darkness faded in to a dim yellow lighting. The room was empty, none of her friends sat beside her, and no one stood on the stage. But the music continued its tale.
Then, a man emerged from behind the stage's curtains and approached her table. His hair was ragged and brown with a tint of gray, and he walked with purpose in his step. Road Kill locked eye contact with him as he sat down across from her and smiled. He took her hands that rested on the table and interlocked them with his, then spoke in a powerful and dominant voice.
"It's funny how one simple word can bring back thousands."
He took in a slow breath before he continued.
"Master."
Road Kill forced herself to say something, the first thing that would come to her mind. She didn't understand where she was, or what was happening, but she knew the man in front of her. She knew him too well.
"I... I know you..."
He nodded, his facial expression turning to a pitiful, longing wistfulness. He gently rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand.
"I'm so sorry, Sandra. I'm sorry this happened to you. But I fixed you once, I can fix you again."
The man leaned forward in his chair, gazing intently into her eyes as he did so. He spoke softly as if someone else would hear.
"I need you to go to Jacobstown and talk to the mutant that stands at the gate."
"He never told me his name." She whispered back, and he replied blandly,
"But you already know it, it's locked in your dormant memories."
Road Kill swallowed deeply and nodded, and tears came to her eyes as he rested fully back into his chair. She knew him, but couldn't think of his name. It bothered her terribly, and in her mind she dug in the bottomless piles of disorientation as she looked for his name. Once again, he smiled at her, the outer corners of his eyebrows lowering to show sorrow as well.
"You never answered my question."
His voice cracked from how quietly he was speaking, and Road Kill strained to hear him.
"What is it like to suddenly be able to see after living in darkness for such a long time?"
She stuttered upon answering him, a tear rolling down her cheek. Just that single sentence brought back so much to her.
"I-It's beautiful."
And the lights went out once again.
Chapter Eight
September 9, 2281
There was a now explicit heaviness in her step that she carried with her. Road Kill carried herself up the long path to Jacobstown, Ulysses and Jason not too far behind. They were oblivious to what had gotten her so motivated to go. One moment they were peacefully enjoying the music at the Tops, and the next she was mumbling to herself, pushing past the crowd in the streets with her eyes dead ahead.
Her hands were balled into fists as she took longer strides than she ever really had. Her face was solid with determination, but at the sight of the gate to Jacobstown, it softened to a hollow shell of despair, and she ran forward until she was but a few steps away from the mutant. He was surprised by her sudden arrival, but seeing the look on her face, he waited for her to speak instead.
"Marcus..." Road Kill panted, her jaw slightly askew. There was something with that that made the mutant understand. She knew his name, yet he never told her. Genuinely, he smiled down at her and opened his arms in a welcoming manner.
"Sandra."
A wide grin split across her face, and she cried out his name once more before leaping into his arms. Ulysses and Jason had to admit that it was quite a sight, seeing mutant and human figure embrace without hesitation, but the moment was heartbreaking, happy. Anything but negatively disturbing and odd. Road Kill – now revealed with her true name, Sandra – bawled in his arms, full tears pouring down her face as she coughed out words in between gasps. They were hard to understand, being jumbled together and such, but Ulysses managed to catch one single phrase.
Master wants us home, now.
The four beings gathered in a tidy room of the Jacobstown lodge, them being Marcus, Sandra, Jason, and Ulysses. The group sat in a circle on the floor, cups of black coffee in each of their hands to warm themselves from the cold of the mountain. Marcus had brought Sandra a box of tissues in case she became teary-eyed from the memories, and he sat next to her as the two of them looked at the others.
"That doesn't make any sense," Ulysses frowned, his gas mask hanging against his collarbone now so he could drink his coffee.
"How did word 'Master' bring you back, and not the sight of Marcus?"
"I never really knew what Marcus looked like." She shrugged, then took a sip from her cup. Seeing Ulysses raise an eyebrow, she explained more.
"I was blind for a good portion of life. When I became a half-mutant, it took a while for my eyes to fully adjust to the world around me. Everything was basically a blur."
Jason shook his head, putting his cup on the ground. He raised his hands as he tried to understand her explanation, but got no where.
"But... how?"
Sandra exhaled deeply, and thought as hard as she could to retell the story that happened so long ago.
"It started like this..."
I was an ignorant woman most of my life. I gained my knowledge from whatever I could hear, and adapted as best as I could to the picture-less world I lived in. There was a place I used to stay, quiet and inactive. The only sound was the ticking of robots and general inhabiting creatures that stopped by to look for food. This was the Mariposa Military Base. A structure meant for forced evolution used in the pre-war. I have trouble remembering early events in what my purpose was there. The only thing I'm quite positive about was I used to work for a man named Robert Spindel. I didn't know him for very long, nor do I remember what he looked like. I was splashed by some of the F.E.V, to where it dissolved my corneas and I went blind.
Now, if you take note of the fact that what we were doing in that facility was horribly illegal, the other scientists there couldn't find the correct treatment for me, and I was left in a small bunk room, fed three meals a day and occasionally updated on news. I remember the pain I felt about what happened next. Someone Spindel worked for, Maxson, found out about me and the F.E.V. He was horrified, and it caused Spindel to have a mental breakdown.
Spindel committed suicide five days later, and after Maxson had interrogated other scientists, he had them executed. I've yet to understand why he spared me, but maybe it was pity. Sympathy, you know. He left with his soldiers, not to long after. I heard them talking about forming their own army. I stayed behind, I was no use to them. But that virus that blinded me had also extended my life drastically. This all happened pre-war.
Of course, there's a large gap in time where I have yet to remember. It couldn't be horribly significant though, so I'm not digging for it. The only thing that comes to mind is sitting in darkness, dormant. I think I must have went into hibernation or something. I honestly don't know how it worked.
But then came along the three explorers that are the highlight of this obnoxiously long story. It was Harold, Richard, and Francine. I never met the girl, she was killed by the robots guarding the entrance. I did hear the men talking of her though, and I felt sorry for their loss. Harold was the first to find me, calling to Richard as he stood by my side. I could tell he was slightly frightened just by the sound waves I felt around me. But Richard, he looked at me differently.
He knelt in front of me, patted my knee, and spoke to me like I was a child. I didn't mind it either, it was comforting, just to hear another voice again, you know? He asked me how long I had been there, and I said it had been a long time. I told him my name, and you know what he said?
'That's a pretty name for a pretty woman.'
I couldn't even remember what I looked like, but I was tickled pink by the compliment. Richard said he felt sorry for me, and he wanted to fix me. He told me to wait for him, wait until he came back, and he would open my eyes, let me see again. He never came back.
So think about it, the first thing I hear in several decades is a promise. Do you think I'd let that go? Of course not. As I waited, I would occasionally say his name at the slightest sound in the walls. I thought that maybe he had come back, but no, he never did. Instead, someone else came for him.
He said his name was Morpheus, which made me happy. I loved Greek Mythology as a little girl, especially the thought that the 'God of Dreams' was speaking to me. He brought me to Richard who sounded different from before. I could immediately tell he was hurt, physically or mentally, I wasn't sure which one, but he subsided my alarm at it and focused on my issue. He said the only way for me to see again was to plunge me into a vat. It's simple to say I was a little cautious about that, considering the F.E.V was what hurt me in the first place, but my trust for this man had escalated massively just by the fact that he had stayed true to his promise.
There was immense pain as I screamed at the top of my lungs, the F.E.V morphing my body to what I am now. I felt like I had been broken all over, and I was set on fire all at once. But, suddenly, the black screen I had been used to turned green, then flashed a bright red until everything went away again.
I can't imagine I was unconscious for too long, but when I awoke, the world around me was fuzzy, with colors colliding. Doctors around me said I would slowly gain my vision to its fullest point within time, but I wasn't worried about that. I lied my gaze upon clumps of bloody flesh caking the room, and was obviously concerned on who the skin belonged to, but I soon found out. I heard Richard's voice again, and he said something that basically summed up the importance of that event.
'What is it like to suddenly be able to see after living in darkness for such a long time?'
And though I still had trouble with my vision, I could make out is now distorted figure, simply a melting head, skin stretching out left and right. An eye had formed as a figure of a tentacle, and it looked straight at me. That being what was left of his body was fused to a computer terminal on a raised desk. The overseer's desk, I later learned from vault exploration.
With this, I just couldn't comprehend why he would do so much for me, when I suffered a simple ailment. His might as well have been fatal. He could have saved himself, planted his brain in a robotic body or such. It confused me, to such a point that I was unable to answer his question. I cried instead, a mixture of happiness and empathy for the now-called Master.
I didn't have much use after that. Considering I was – am – a half mutant. Occasionally I would sit in his chamber and talk to him, just about what my new world was like. One day, he seemed frantic, and ordered me to take three mutants with me on a trip to find other vaults. He called it the Master's Caravan, and I asked how it had anything to do with merchantmen. Richard said to think of it like we were merchandising new lives to these Vault Dwellers. By force.
Now I wasn't used to taking orders from him, but I accepted in terms of repaying him of what he had done for me. Plus, by then, I had an undying loyalty for that man. I was then introduced to the three mutants that would accompany me. Marcus, Davison, and Dog. To give a little description of each of them, well, Marcus, you know him. Extremely intellectual and kind. Davison was a smart one, but his motives weren't quite on the good side. And Dog, pure sweetheart. His name fit him well, too. I could tell why they named him Dog, mostly because of his loyalty to his Master. It was cute.
The Master's Caravan traveled for many years by brahmin, slowly dropping in numbers. Davison was the first to leave after he picked up a brahma skull and named it 'Antler.' That was his new Master, apparently, because he dismissed himself one night and went off alone. I suppose he gathered an army of his own at some point, but I could only look down on him. It was sad to think someone created by a father would then disown himself. Like trading religions, in a way.
The remaining three of us found Vault 13 soon after and called in the others of the Master's Army to take it. I could tell by the look in their eyes that they were impressed, but I couldn't say I cared about impressing anyone. I thrived to please the Master, like anyone else. After that we continued our trek east, where I heard were loads of untouched vaults in the Mojave.
We lost Dog then, as he slowly morphed into something I couldn't bare. At times I would find him yelling at himself in a deeper, harsher voice, then it would turn to pitiful whimpers as he apologized. This was when my vision was starting to fully recover, and things were only slightly blurry. The caravan passed an abandoned bunker, which caught that poor beast's attention. He perked up like a hound and ran to it, saying he was being 'called.' I screamed for him to come back, I said we needed him, but he was gone. Marcus and I never saw him again.
Later on, perhaps around 2239, the two of us found out of the Master's defeat. I can't remember what told us, I just have in mind that we looked at each other as our hearts dropped, and I cried all night. For some reason, I refused to disband the caravan and insisted we keep going, but Marcus said there was no point. He left about a month later, going on and making his own life. It was soon after that, 2241, where I fell.
It was raining hard, a thunderstorm. Excuse my language when I say this, but weather was a pain in the ass. Each boom scared the brahmin out of their skin, and they would run and stomp around like fools until the storm was over. The storm hadn't ended soon enough, and while I attempted to calm the beasts, they trampled me. I remember the last thing I tried to scream was 'Marcus,' but it never came out. One of those damn things planted a hoof right to my forehead.
"And that's when my dad found you." Jason piped up after the story, his coffee cup empty, along with the others, despite Sandra's. She nodded slowly, then wiped the corners of her eyes blankly. Marcus patted her on the back, all the while Ulysses stared understandingly.
"But how did you know to come and find Marcus if you didn't remember him?"
Jason was the one with the questions, and Sandra didn't mind. Whatever to help her closest friends get her life was the best.
"When I heard the Lonesome Drifter sing about the Master's Army, something happened. The room was suddenly empty, and Richard appeared from the curtains."
"Richard, or the Master?" Marcus asked, and Sandra glanced at him.
"It was Richard. I don't know how I knew what he looked like, though. It was as if my eyes caught him, but never processed the image to my mind. But he told me what I had to do, he said he fixed me once, and he could fix me again."
Marcus nodded, a solemn hum coming from him. The group of people looked down at the floor as they traced over what had happened to this woman. The only person who hadn't averted their gaze was Ulysses. His glossy eyes were wide, but tight with contemplation. He ran over her blue features, comparing them to other mutants, and came to a decently obvious conclusion.
"So you are a half Nightkin. That explains the blue-tinted features and schizophrenia."
Marcus looked up at Ulysses, lowering his eyebrows in a thoughtful manner.
"Yes, but she's not schizophrenic. It's often that mutants close to the Master experience their most familiar form of him giving orders. In this case, it's Richard."
The mutant shifted in his seating, heightening himself even taller than he already was, and he lifted his hands as he explained Sandra's situation.
"You see, there were a few chosen mutants that have the gift to contact the Master at will. When these people were mutated, they had bits of him placed in their heads, his most trusted mutants. In this case, Sandra holds his humanity."
Jason lifted his head as well.
"So that's it then?" He shrugged,
"It was you and the Master. Lost in Angeles."
Sandra gave a small chuckle, and a smirk overtook the left corner of her mouth.
"Yeah... Lost Angeles."
Marcus stood up, gathering each of the empty coffee cups in his large hands. Ulysses and Jason stood as well, but Sandra remained seated. Her mind was to flooded with memories to move right then, and Marcus acknowledged that.
"Why don't you all stay here tonight? I'll show you to your rooms."
He looked down at Sandra and smiled, showing this would be her room. She accepted the kind gesture and pulled herself to her feet. The three of them, Ulysses, Jason, and Marcus turned and left the room, but she saw them go as the members of the Master's Caravan. She sighed shakily, and the door clicked as it was shut behind them. Sandra bit her lip, and a figure was suddenly beside her.
Richard and Sandra stood silent, staring ahead as if sharing thoughts without a word. Her body was shaking, but she wasn't scared. The knowledge pouring into her was a little too much to handle all at once, but her strong muscles held her upright and firm. Almost on cue, Sandra and Richard faced each other, and openly smiled at each other. They were no longer lost in the City of Angels, a symbolization of a Hell on Earth.
"There was a specific look I got from your eyes.
I knew it was something I'd never see again.
Stay with me past the end,
And die with me as my only friend."
The End