Unity, In Shadow
1
The Dark Ones didn't come back after Nukpana had come and gone. Scouts would jump at shadows, the narrow pass always had at least two sets of eyes on it at all times, day and night. Though under a shroud of fear, that didn't stop Grace from going out into the wastes on her own. She'd scour the surrounding area for more tats, but, as with all good things, it ended too soon. Only the four voices got any anymore, and that was as little as a half one a day. But still, Grace always kept a small stash in her little bag for her little friends.
The church held a thing they all called a 'lie-bary' and Grace had poured over as many as she could. Most were about the history of 'Cath-lism' and one tome in particular showed a small drawing of a green landscape with a small church in the centre. The world was so green! All she had ever known were those giant rocks in the quarry and the endless dirt that blanketed them. Was all this greenery imagination? Or had the world moved on long ago? She admired the drawings for days at a time, never leaving the church confines ever since her trips to the outside ended.
Currently, Grace was tucked in the corner of the church hall, little Deathclaw in one hand, Ryder's book in the other (her favourites). She was at the point of the story were Grace – the book one, that is – learns of a dark truth a dear friend of hers was holding from her. This went on to the next page, and when she went to turn it, she heard an odd beeping sound from behind her prone form.
Boo-weep!
The little Deathclaw in her hand whined as it opened its eyes sleepily, this one was her favourite of the bunch, very aggressive, bold, liked to bite, though it always treated her fair. She remembered Dalon going to pet it, only to lose a bit of blood from his finger, it made her laugh while making him scowl.
Boo-weep!
She was resting her head on the small handbag her former friend owned as a make-do pillow. She set the book down and pulled the bag to her lap. It didn't contain much, apart from the gun and… the helmet! It was making the odd noise, she took it out.
Boo-weep!
One of those lights on the small box on the helmet was flashing brightly with each beep. She pressed it, and a woman's lustful voice came to life.
"Has your life taken a turn?"
"Another little person?" Grace said, tilting her head.
"Person!" said the little one, receiving a smile from Grace. The voice went on.
"Do troubles beset you?"
"Why do you care?" she asked those lifeless red eyes.
"If so, the Sierra Madre Casino, in all its glory, is inviting you to begin again..."
It went on, no matter how many times Grace (or the little one) interrupted it. But, as the words poured on and on, Grace slowly went silent (and so did the other Deathclaw) and she'd listen more intently. It sounded so… promising, and… she could just imagine how good this 'Sierra Madre' looked. A sanctuary, for people like her! Maybe no one would notice her if she just slipped away for a day or two… The human woman's voice promised family, knowledge, friendship and.. even a brand new lie-bary. Better than what the church held, for sure.
"So if life's worries have weighed you down, if you need an escape from your troubles, or if you just need an opportunity to begin again, join us, let go, and leave the world behind at the Sierra Madre grand opening this October… We'll be waiting."
"Oh… I think I will. What do you think, little one?"
It nodded with vigour. She had the right to call the small Deathclaw a little one, as she had grown now to about, say, as tall as a young human. She was just a 'quicker', as the Al had put it, in terms of growth.
But then she thought of something, how would she get to this place? Where even was this Madre? She tried asking the helmet, the voice, but it said nothing. How would it expect her to go if it didn't tell her where it was? She went slightly steamed, and lifted up the helmet above her head and stood.
"Where is this place?" she asked it again, over and over.
"Has your life taken a turn?"
"Yes! I want to go!" she turned on the spot, making the little Deathclaw run circles around her. She asked and asked, but the voice wouldn't answer, that was until…
"Let your eyes take in the luxurious expanse of the open desert under – J-Jace? You –star-lit skies."
That voice…
"Wait here."
"Ere!" the little one yelped, sitting down on its hind, gazing at her cutely and with wonder.
She went outside into the cold night, some of the Pack gave her odd looks, but didn't comment. Grace walked a fair distance out into the darkness. She held it up again, hoping that-
"Where excitement and intrigue await around every- Sounds… really –gaze into the sunset."
It broke again, the humans voice, she turned it this way and that, but it didn't come back. That was until she crested a small hill and pointed the mask directly towards the lake. She was posed as if she were a prophet, and the helmet was D'law's gift unto her.
"As you- Head off in the… morning. Ah… zzzz…"
Snoring. It was him, she knew it was. It sounded a bit off… but she fixed it into her head, she had to find him – and tell him about the Madre, of course!
She waved the helmet left, his sleeping sounds faded, she waved it right, it came, then faded again. She brought it to the middle again, and there it was, perhaps the helmet (and the voices inside it) where pointing the way for her.
She took two steps forward, Ryder's voice and the Madre promises helping her along. A sharp hand found her shoulder, she would've jumped into the sky if she didn't recognise Dalon's voice.
"Grace? W-Where are you going?"
She turned, she had gained height on Dalon, or perhaps he had simply stopped growing, either way, she was just shy of his height now.
"My friend, that human I told you about? He's out there."
Dalon showed confusion. "I thought you said he was dead?"
"I heard his voice! On this thingy."
She held up the helmet, but all they heard was that sleeping noise.
"Doesn't sound like a human." Dalon said, unsurely.
"He was speaking before, trust me."
Dalon put his chin to her cheek, breathing deeply. The wash of air and the contact of skin forced her to close her eyes and return the gesture. "You know I do." Dalon whispered slowly.
She gazed up at the stars with dreamy eyes, slinging her handbag over her shoulder unconsciously. She spied the Tooth, pointing down to the lake, which, ironically, was like a giant talon, pointing the same way the helmet was, to salvation.
"Have you forgotten what happens in but a day's time?" Dalon asked with a hint of sadness.
"How could I? Your practically beaming like the sun in the morning whenever you mention it. Which is almost every day..."
"I can't hold myself back any longer, Grace."
"I'll be back in time for it, Dalon."
"Why don't I come with you?"
"I'm not sure two of us is appropriate, I'll bring him here, ease him into the Pack. I want you to warn the Four of our return."
"You know I'm not happy with this?"
"Of course, but, do this one last thing before the time comes, for me?"
"How could I deny you? You better hurry back… I'll be waiting."
She chuckled. "I know you will."
He held Grace's arm for a long moment before letting her go. He gave her a warm smile and watched (or in his case, heard) her walk south, under cover of night, he knew she would be fine. But still, he was anxious for her return.
She left the shadow of the church, a spring in her steps.
2
She walked that whole night, and felt weaker for it. She at first ran, but her legs begged her to slow, and she complied. A small camp of humans wearing dirty armour (she remembered Ryder mentioning these people, calling them 'en-see-are') and gave them wide birth. The humans fired a few shots at her, but they only kicked up dust behind her feet. That was the only thing remotely eventful in her long journey into the cold night.
After long countless hours, the sun slowly peaked across the horizon on her left, baking a sliver of the sky a deep orange hue. She took out the helmet and pointed it forward, sure enough, she still heard the snores of the human clear as day. She could catch him before he moved off, if she hurried. But her legs – lean but full of muscle – were starting to struggle underneath her, even at a slow pace.
But she refused to stop, refused the temptation to rest, and went on. Another countless set of hours dragged by. Her talons on her feet scraped the dirt beneath her, leaving long scars behind her that would eventually die in the light winds passing.
As she lumbered on, she wondered how Ryder had even survived that ordeal in Goodsprings. Was he faking it? And… how long ago was that? It felt like… forever about now. In any case, it was certainly too long, but was he searching for her? It sounded like he was just messing around with this 'Jace' figure. Why wasn't he looking for her?
She shook her head, he had no way of finding her of course! She'd simply find him, bring him back, he was good at fighting, the Pack could use a hand when the time came. Perhaps he could use that 'Death Bringer' weapon in the tower too.
The first rays of light passed overhead, and half the world basked in the cooking sun on that dry morning. She longed for the rain… she needed a drink.
Soon she came across a great ribbon of dead concrete that ripped across the landscape. It was straight on her right, but curved slowly ahead of her on the left. She followed the road with her eyes that went on and up southbound, and just skimming the horizon there – very much a speck – she could see a giant reptilian figure, a Gecko?
She sulked at that great distance, dropping her shoulders slightly, she had pushed herself further than necessary, her legs hurt and her throat burned. She spied a small puddle off the road, just near the bend. It looked clean at this distance, she decided to approach.
The puddle was about as big as she was wide, and reasonably deep. She lapped up a small portion with her tongue to test. Good. She scooped up as much as she could in her hands and drank greedily.
She took a long sniff and lifted her head up. A rotten smell filled her nasals. It was… like smoke but with a bit more fragrance – a very burning odour – yet it wasn't from a fire, from what she could tell.
She heard the faintest sound of the wind gust at her backside, and the odour was fresh again (fresh not meaning pleasant). The wind sounded very parched, as if… it was all coming from a tiny source. She turned her head to the right. Just the desert. The left, a rock face.
But there, slumped sleepily against the great boulders, was a small human figure. One hand resting in its lap, the other pinching a stick to its mouth. Why would you stick a stick to your mouth? That sick smell was coming from the human, yet it didn't look the least bit as fazed as the Deathclaw was.
Long grey hair fell to its shoulders, and the rest was bundled up in a small bun of hair on the back of its head. Its eyes looked rather cloudy, and as it looked at Grace, it let out a long stinky smoky cloud of air.
"Heyyyy." it croaked, sounding drawn out with an effort. The 'H' couldn't be heard.
"Hi." Grace replied. Liking the feeling of switching back to her human language persona again, having conversations with anyone other than the little ones would be nice.
The human lolled its head backwards, looking up at the sky. It sniffed, the sound of something clogging its breathing was easy to hear, it lifted the stick back to its mouth, breathed, and released the disgusting smoke again, smiling in pleasure.
"Could you not do that, please?" Grace asked. The 'human' looked at her unfocusedly.
"And what would you have me do? Not? No, nay, negatory."
"Huh?" Grace said, standing up.
"This shit must be working if you look like that." came the humans feminine and laid back tone. Her face that of no concern, which surprised Grace, as it actually looked pleased.
Grace walked up to the 'intriguing' human, towering over her, of course, yet it seemed not the least bit intimidated. It was unarmed as well, no weapon or anything from what Grace could see.
"And what do I look like?"
"Hehe! Like one of those damn lizard-dragon things." She takes another breath of the foul smelling stick, letting the smoke wash over her like a personal cloak. "Is that a New York accent I detect?"
"I think so."
"Come, sit with me, miiiiiss?"
"Grace."
"Graaaace, come!" The human waves her hands rapidly to her side, a free space. "Take a load off."
Grace crossed one leg over the other and slowly slid down the rocks until she mimicked the posture of the human – taking a load off, she guessed.
"I'm Brooks." came the woman's raspy voice, she held out a fist, Grace thought she must've forgotten to complete the punching motion, as she simply let it hang there for a second before letting it drop lazily to the ground, palm up, forgotten now.
"You don't know how I feel, Grace. Ho-ho! This is good shit!"
"What shit?"
"This!" She held up the stick. "I'm stoned out of my gourd! Wanna try?" she asked, a smile looking oddly like a scar. Her whole face looked like a scar, in fact, one big wound, she was fairly ugly (if Grace was one to judge).
"It smells like rotten flesh." Grace spat back.
"Oh but THAT'S the secret! Come on, just take a puff!"
"I've never, uh, 'taken a puff' before."
Brooks went wide eyed at that, and slowly turned her face to her. "What?" she exclaimed rather loudly, her dry tone echoing in the empty dawns air. "You've never roasted a nug?"
"… No."
"Never sparked the dutch?"
"Um… No."
"Never got geeked?"
"No."
"All the better! Here." she held out the stick, Grace took it. It felt like metal, and was about as long as one of her short talons, a thin trail of the deathly odour lingered up and out of the other end. It felt small in her grip.
"How do I get geeked?" the Deathclaw asked, intrigued slightly.
"Well! Put your little lips on this end here, and breeeeath it in! Simples!" Brooks made an odd squeaking sound from the corner of her mouth. Grace stared in confusion. "No? Well, that's what I get for being as old as Madonna."
Grace looked unsurely at the stick, but Brooks gave a thumbs up, although Grace ignored her. She recited the instructions in her head and… got geeked? Oh how the young were so easy to sway, Deathclaw or not.
She breathed deeply and sharply – and regretted it. She hacked away as she let the stick leave her lips, using one hand to punch her stomach to help the smoke leave her body.
"Gah!" she cried.
"Easy! Jeez, draw it out, like this!"
Once more, Brooks took it back and repeated the gesture… without coughing up? How? The Deathclaw hated the smell, but…
"Let me go again." Grace demanded.
"Arighty Gracey!"
She hands it back. This time Grace drew it in a longer breath, as told, she sucked it in deeply, keeping it hanging in her stomach for a few seconds, letting it out a moment later in a long dry sigh, one large and perfect O shaped cloud escaping from her lips.
"Damn!" said Brooks. "You're a natural!"
Grace handed the stick back. Brooks took one more draw, but when she let it out, she took the cloud into one hand, as if snuggling it, and made a weird shape Grace could only describe a small explosion of sorts, with thin tendrils of grey sprawling about like fingers.
"I call it the A-Bomb!" Brooks said proudly, the 'A-Bomb' faded into nothingness a second later, Grace nodded without interest.
The Deathclaw took the stick back and held it between her two forefingers, drawing loudly.
After a long silence, Brooks said (almost drunkenly) "Hey Gracey-poo, what're you doing out here?"
"Oh, just looking for my friend." A long pause, then, "What about you?"
"Trying to get away from my 'friends'. They took away my ranch!" She said that last bit like a stereotyped farmer, which made Grace laugh, although the Deathclaw didn't really find it funny, nor did she even understand it.
"You're wearing… ahhh… you're wearing robes, and heeled shoes. You don't look like a… ahhh… farmer." Grace wheezed between long satisfying draws.
"Save some for me! Gimme… sheesh, its almost out! What were you saying?"
"Are. You. A. No, I mean… never mind."
"Ahhh." they said in unison, despite Grace not taking a draw, while Brooks did.
"Takes away alllll the worries, don't it Gracey?"
"I can't feel my hands."
"Yyyyyep!"
"No, seriously, I can't feel them... or my toes!"
"Riiiight."
"My tongue either!"
"Then it's working! Relax, aint nothing bad 'bout it. Hehehe… 'bad 'bout it', try saying that three times quickly."
Grace tried, but all that came out was incomprehensible nonsense, eventually she ended it by giving up, thinking laughing was more entertaining – which it was. Brooks chortled and chuckled, while Grace whaled and heaved. Grace lost her breath so much she made loud snorting noises when she tried to breath air back into her lungs.
"Your snorting like a pig!" Brooks said.
Grace didn't know what a pig was, but, for some reason, thought that was hilarious, and when she snorted again, she couldn't help herself but lose it all together.
"Where do you get this… geek?" Grace asked, after gaining control again.
"This geek… you just come find me if you want anymore, alright?"
"I think I might be a regular customer." Grace said, disbelieving, her head swaying about.
"Music to my ears. Or my holes, whatever."
Yes, Brooks didn't have any 'ears', as Grace could see. Or perhaps this was her 'geek' sense kicking in. It made her see the world in a whole new perspective. The blood red sky went blue, green, grey, black, then back to red again. Over and over, switching colours at random intervals. Did she always feel this heavy?
"Maybe I should stop." Grace dragged.
"Are you kidding me?" Brooks beamed. "I got a feeling in my loins and it's not fire! Go on, one more."
"No… okay! One more, but that's it!"
?
She did just that, and the Deathclaw felt worse for – felt better for it, for her eyes were filled with starlight, her haunches seemed to lift off the ground. She saw it, saw everything. Empires rising and falling, worlds colliding, gods fighting in colossal battles. Sharpening knifes far off to her flank, a thief lingering in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to pounce. The city of Vegas crumbling to the ground in a big pile of neon rubble. Rising. Rising from the ashes came a city that never sleeps. A Deathclaw walked the sidewalk, "Hi Phil!" it called across the strip of road. "Howdy Billy!" responded a bright white-suited man with a grin. Was the Deathclaw wearing a top hat?
Something peered at her from the shadows, there burning eyes crept over her backside. The red's watched.
Blackness, then, in its epicentre, a great blue fireball of life. Spreading, spreading, creating everything, green, so much green. Trees, things she only saw pictures of. A little animal thing that swam with fins, not legs. She witnessed the creation of all of the Mojave. Then she was flying, flying higher than the blue sky, which now turned into blackness. The Mojave landscape was bigger than she thought. It was surrounded by blue, oh so much blue. Then she went so far away that the ground was a countless distance away. The land was on a giant ball shaped thing. And it was flying away at an uncanny speed.
Further and further, higher and higher. The worlds heavens (atmosphere) held them in a placental sac. The sun, rising to meet her eyes-
She was blinded, she yelled out and-
Then she was on a road, walking down it, swaying slowly with each step. Then she was on a throne, high above everyone else, human, Deathclaw, Ghouls, all bowed before her like a goddess. But, she was alone. No one. Not a one.
"To far, back."
But the red's…
The sound of drums, a piano, and a trumpet? How did she know all these things? The three instruments floated in the air on her right and played – the background now like the bottom of a sunless lake – and on her left was… Ryder? Without the top half of his armour?
"I call this… the Boogie Woogie." said Ryder.
Then he bobbed his head left and right, in time with the tune. His arms curled slightly, and his hands went to fists. Then he did a spin, shaking his hips left and right, all of it perfected to the music. The tense muscles, the groovy motion, his warm smile, it felt… odd, to see him like this.
I must be roasting the nug so bad right now.
Then they dissipated into dust, a building – like a motel – about her height, came up to her. "Hi there!" it said, two windows lighting up, a long doorway near its base opening and closing – eyes and mouth.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"I'm Sierra! Come find me!"
"I shall!"
"You shall alight!"
It went, shimmered into nothing, trails of grey and black sent away with the wind. She turned around. The red's, staring, two balls of blood.
Time seemed but a plate, shattered on the ground by a clumsy hand. This was hell, Grace was certain. The red's are from hell, she went to them, feared them, feared the twins.
At that time in reality, Grace felt the hell of illusions and dreams, Ryder felt the hell of withdrawal. Two plains, neither connected, but oh so similar. She heard an odd chime, one that burned her hearing. Trouble, the Deathclaw thinks weakly, unable to cope with the screeching that approached. No, its… the end… No, there is more, something smells off, no, not bad, good, the smell of meat cooking. She heard the snap of legs, an orange flicker just over yonder – a campfire. She approaches, friends by her sides, off to the flame.
KA-BLAM!
Death Bringer, Grace opens her eyes to see a billion stars wheeling through blackness, then closes them again. Her throat caught a thousand hooks, she sleeps.
She was being dragged along, bouncing and bumping, head lolling helplessly. She heard her own voice singing along to an odd tune, one familiar, dreamlike song.
"Run away…. run awayayayayyyy! Don't leave me crying… there's no denying!"
She looked up at the one who was dragging her along, she made out the odd shape of a draconic-lizard thing, a toothy smile, a handbag over the left shoulder. Me?
Grace went to ask Grace a question, but the Deathclaw was tired now and lied back to look at the stars peeking through the violet skies canopy.
3
She was face planted in the dirt, one arm wrapped around her head, the other on the small of her own back. Every now and then, when the wind breezes, she smells fragrant smoke, making her mouth water. D'law, is it over?
She opens one eye, not moving anything else. She saw a small dying campfire, along with her handbag, the contents just slightly spilling out, the red eyes of the helmet looking back at her demonically.
She got to her knees, fell, got back up again, and looked behind her. The camp was right beside a road, which looked oddly familiar to her. It was early, the morning sun presenting itself to the wastes, no longer in a shy mood.
The freakish body of Brooks lay strewn by her side, she was groaning, coughing, and laughing, making some sick squeaky chortle in her throat.
"Woo!" Brooks wheezed. "That was better than singing Soprano!"
Brooks sat up, her back to Grace. The Deathclaw ran a hand over its face, a large mucus of pain growing inside her head.
"Gracey-boo? You alive?"
"Barely."
Brooks span about to face her while she spoke. "Glad I recognised… that… Deathclaw?"
"What?"
Brooks let her jaw drop, then she hung it back up. "Am I still… still high?"
"No."
"So your actually a-"
"Deathclaw, yep."
"That… is… confusingly awesome! Could it be? Am I the first to befriend a 'Claw? The first to get krunked with one?"
"I thought it was to get geeked?"
"I use many terms. So?"
"I have another human friend, but we never did anything like… whatever that was."
"I guess all these years have been worth it then." Brooks replied in awe, grabbing the strap of the bag, putting the helmet and book back inside it, before turning to face Grace with a small smile, bag out held. "Not going to eat me? After all that?"
"Of course not. You look disgusting."
"That's racist to Ghouls, honey." Brooks said sternly, but they shared a smirk. Grace took the bag back with thanks, and Brooks looked about in all directions.
"Never walked this far when under the zone, looks like we walked about a mile, good thing nothing was out here to eat us. Then again, a Deathclaw blazed must keep the critters away! Right?"
"I think I cut a talon off on the way here. Well, I don't think I do, I know."
To show, she held up her left hand, the pinkie nail was half as long as before, which must've been double the length of Brooks' own.
"Don't have any polish in that bag of yours?" Brooks asked, with a hint of smugness.
"What?"
"Nothing, so, what's next for us huh? There's a small trading outpost just back the way we came, I know they got more dope! Ha!"
"I'd love to, but, I need to find someone, the friend I mentioned."
"Maybe I can help?"
"I've been following this helmet, its making his sounds, well, it was."
"Let's have a chook!"
"A what?"
"A look!"
She handed it over, Brooks fiddled and tinkered the helmet with worn and expert hands, clearly she had operated one before, as she adjusted and flicked the box as if she had been doing it forever. After a moment, she lifted it up – like Grace had done – and pointed it towards Novac, where the voices came to life again.
"Yeah, built in receiver, need to face it at the source in order to clear up the static. It's cool how you figured it out so quickly. I'd ask you how you're so smart, and how you talk, and about that accent. But your friend, you said he was in that town? Well, look like he's moving east, that-a-way."
She pointed a finger and the helmet to the left of the town, they heard Ryder's voice, if but for a moment.
"Stupid damn… KA!... Gecko things…"
"Shooting Gecko's, and he sounds like me on a Friday afternoon! You have good taste in friends, Gracey-kins!"
"I should hurry along then."
"Hey! Don't let me slow you down with my stubby little legs. Go on, I'll be at the trading post down the road, Be there for a few days, if you want to chat or… you know…"
Grace gave a small chuckle. "Maybe I will."
"All right! And hey? Did you cook up this… steak?"
"No, I assumed you built that fire."
"Maybe I did, crazy shit goes down when geeked, huh?"
"Definitely, what did you see?"
"Indescribable nonsense. You?"
Grace nods.
"Deathclaw visions, this is the best day of my life, honey."
"Glad I could help." Grace said.
"Oh shucks! Don't flatter me honey, or I might just have to return the favour, one way or another."
"I'll hold you to that, honey."
Brooks smirked at her new (stolen) label. She rubbed her hand over her hair, almost like a delicacy, then pointed south again.
"Go on! Your friends waiting!"
"Oh, right, see you later, Brooks."
"Anytime!"
They parted ways for now.
4
Grace followed the helmet and the voice. He was getting louder, more clearer, Grace's hopes soared like stars with each passing hour. Her heart would jump whenever she would hear the KA of his gun being fired, but she had faith in him, and when he would curse at the 'rodents' for attacking him, she would always nod in impression. She wanted to talk to him so badly, there was a lot of things she wanted to know, and most likely, he had questions for her. She became worried slightly, would he even recognise her? She had certainly grown since he… well, almost died, but maybe he just didn't see Deathclaw's as a threat? Maybe he doesn't attack them, and that's why he 'raised' her? She was intent on bringing him back to the Pack in order to help when the time came (after seeing this 'Madre' of course) but how would they react to him? She was poorly treated at first, she had no intention of going back to that again.
She would let fate run its course. Or, should she fight it?
She crossed two more hills, checking the signal again, maybe one more dune to go…
As she walked, she pondered on what would happen after the Dark Ones are gone. After that, what then? Maybe Ryder would like to stay, she certainly hoped he would, but, would he like a church as a home? Was he religious? Do humans like churches?
There was simply too much on her mind at this time. She slightly loathed to get geeked again, but, maybe she's still under the influence of it, it wouldn't help, but, maybe it would help Ryder in his decision?
"What am I even thinking?" she asked aloud, the young Deathclaw clearly hated all the confusion, she put a hand to her temple to scratch a sudden irritation there. What happens, happens, she thought to herself, gaining some self clarity. She'll ask him all this anyway, so, she should start running, hurry all this along.
She did. Bag flapping on her back as she raced against the breeze.
She bypassed another human military camp, sticking to the surrounding hills for cover. She climbed and crawled all the dunes, until at last-
5
At the peak of a hill she stood, tail swishing behind her, one hand clutching the bag to her side, looking down at the base of the terrain.
A figure. Clad in dark armour, but lacking a helmet to protect his face, stood. It looked back at her with its one remaining eye in a state of unbelieving. A lot of unspoken words found there voice in that exchange of looks. She gave a small smile, but at this fair distance, he probably couldn't see it. She noticed that he was stood next to a small hatch made of metal, buried in the ground, the lid was open.
She didn't know this, but her 'smile' as she defined was very un-friendly, in a way, she would have to work on it, as it came out looking almost like a snarl, like a predator finding its prey.
She narrowed her eyes when she heard a small cry of fear, but couldn't find the source as she looked around them. Grace looked back to Ryder.
He was the source.
Why would he-
(Her previous doubts answered her…)
Her thoughts were interrupted by a thundering KA as Ryder fired his gun at her, but he swerved to fast in her direction, and the shot went wide. She ducked under instinct, and was about to call out to him when he disappeared into the hatch, feet first, head but a blur.
She didn't give confusion a chance to slow her, she raced down the hill quickly, and came up to the hatch. It was quite wide, so she was swallowed into the ground without interruption.
Below was a small barren room filled with junk that painted the floor. The only feature within was a small set of stairs built into the corner of the rooms floor. Where she saw Ryder hastily running down, and – she could hear – the sound of a woman's voice…
"Has your life taken a turn?"
Was he drawn to the voice as she was? Most likely, but she stood up and pursued him, into the depths of earth she went.
After a dozen steps down, a long hallway filled her vision, at the far end was a small box where the voice came from, illuminated by one unseen light in the darkest room ever. But between it and her was the stumbling human figure, who looked back at her with a panicked face before getting to his feet.
"Wait!" she yelled, but it went unheard by Ryder, who insisted on making it the source at the end of the hall, as if life depended on it.
Using all her hands and feet, she went double his pace after him. A small portion of the hall split off to her left, but she ignored it, she was intent on getting to Ryder now before he shot at her again. It didn't take long for him to reach the end room, but she was right behind him in that chase.
As she just reached the doorway to the room, Ryder was stood next to the small box, facing her, shotgun levelled and ready to kill. His features showed one of craziness and lunacy.
"Dyrer! What are you doing?" she cried angrily.
That made him stop, and he lowered his gun slightly, crossing his brows in examination – she hoped.
Grace thought he dropped his gun in recognition of her. But she was wrong, she was way off. An odd smell filled her lungs and nose. Not that crap from Brooks, no, this was something else. Something that made her insides tingle…
From unseen vents in the room, gas leaked out by the truckloads. Ryder's eyes drifted to the ground, he dropped his gun and went to his knees. He fought the urge to sleep, but like the past, it never worked. He dropped, unmoving, sprawled as if dead.
She found her legs had stopped responding, she ordered them to move, but to no avail. She pressed her hands on the ground to stop herself from falling. Her eyes flickered, filled with sleep. NO! she thought, Not now! Not when I'm so close!
She reached one arm forward to Ryder, not caring when her chin slammed to the ground painfully, he was just out of reach. She pressed a cheek to the cold floor, and felt herself drift into unconsciousness. But before the smell took her, the lusty yet cold voice of the woman from the source gave her one final statement. Sounding methodical yet pleased as its trap had been sprung.
"We'll be waiting for you."
