Chapter 1

She was lying down again. The robot sat beside her, staring at her while a doctor poked needles into her arm. For some reason, the needles didn't hurt and when she asked the doctor about it, he shrugged, saying that it was because she had a high tolerance for pain.

"You're the hero of the Wastes," he murmured with admiration in his voice as he checked her pulse. As if that answer solved everything. It actually gave her more questions. She didn't understand what the wastes meant. And she wasn't sure if she heard him right. Hero? Not bloody likely. Then again, she couldn't remember anything. Doctor had green eyes, she noted, as he leaned down with a light in her eyes, checking to see if her pupils were dilated. She took a whiff of his breath.

"Sugar bombs," she said. He stilled. She stilled. What the hell were Sugar bombs? An image of a room came to her mind where two men lived. One was bespectacled; the other had an intimidating aura. Their room smelt like Sugar Bombs. She remembered that the bespectacled one was a doctor. They must be her friends, or people she cared for because the image didn't scare her. It made her feel safe even though the intimidating one had put a gun to her forehead. In that memory, she felt a warm chest against her back as a hand reached over her and aimed a gun right at the intimidating one's face. They were yelling. Up close, she noticed that their faces were melting; chunks of skin and hair were gone, showing muscle underneath. Then the memory ended and she shook her head. For some reason, she was sure that they were safe. She was safe.

"I had Sugar Bombs for breakfast." Doctor smiled and moved away. And the robot grumbled.

"Did you just grumble?" she blurted. The robot faced her.

"Did you say something?" Doctor asked her.

"I was talking to the robot." At which the robot froze and the doctor laughed. The old man with the long cloak who (re)introduced himself as Elder Lyons entered the room. He watched her get examined as he stood by the robot.

"You have a tattoo on your chest, by the way," Doctor told her. "During the explosion," Explosion? "You were soaked in radiation," Radiation? "The piece of paper you were carrying disintegrated but its contents got 'transferred' onto your skin." Piece of paper?

"You sacrificed your life for mankind. Because of you, the water is slowly getting purified, and being distributed throughout the wastes. Because of you, there is hope once again," the old man, Elder Lyons, enthused, grabbing her hand as got caught up with emotions. Elder had tears in the corner of his eyes. The robot flinched. How she knew that amazed her because she swore he hadn't moved at all.

"I'm sorry Elder Lyons. I don't remember," she apologised, her voice still sounding unfamiliar.

"It's alright. I'm sorry. This might be too soon to remind you. But you saved my daughter as well." With that, he let her go, but the grateful smile he had stayed on his face.

"About that tattoo," she started. "May I see it?" Almost immediately, the robot stood and trudged to a sink where a mirror hung. It unhooked the mirror and carried it over to where she lay, propping it so that she could see her reflection without much movement. What she saw surprised her.

Her pink hair was bedraggled from lying down too long and her skin was unevenly tanned. There was a myriad of scars and weird shaped bruises over her body. Observing closely, she saw a spray of freckles where sunlight hadn't reached to tan, over her shoulders and across her chest. Her chest appeared to have black letterforms.

"Elder Lyons, I think we should give our heroine some privacy," Doctor persuaded. They left, closing the door of the room behind them. She realised she should undress to see more of the tattoo. As she gingerly fingered the material of her undershirt, she met the eyes of the robot that had stayed with her. She wasn't sure what she felt about the presence. She didn't necessarily mind that it was around yet, a frisson of something moved around in the pits of her stomach. After a few minutes of quietly intense staring, the robot turned away and stood guard by the door. She sat up and pulled off her undershirt, revealing her breasts and the black letters on her skin. The words had faded where her breasts curved. But other than that, she could make out tiny words. They were 'terms for employment'. For a 'Charon'.

"Charon?" she said aloud, testing the name in her mouth. Familiar.

"What is it, Boss?" The robot spoke, its head turning to face her.