Chapter 06: The Nuka-Cola Factory


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

THE Jane NUKA COLA FACTORY... TEN MILES east 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. There was the melodious song of confirmation.

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 followed by some soothing island music. "WELCOME... btzzz. B.. TO... THE GOERGIE JANE NUKA COLA ...btzzz... zittt... FACTORY BRANCH. OUR SPONSORS, VAULT-TECH, WES-TEC AND Mathes, THE WONDERFUL MAKERS OF the PDP, THANK YOU FOR VISITING... zittt btzzz..." The synthetic seemed almost human, having a female voice uttered with a metallic crispness and with flawless diction.

Edden looked around the room to find the source, her shotgun close at hand. "Uh-mum, yeah, thank you."

"YOU'RE MOST WELCOME... PLEASE FOLLOW THE MR. SMITH – which by the way is under the registered trade mark of Mathias enterprises and unlawful duplication of the holo-crystal guide violates both copyright law and international copyrights- HOLO-AID will GUIDE YOU, HE WILL BE YOUR... btzzz... system error 709-øΏ corrupted syntax... 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. AND PLEASE BE SURE TO SAMPLE OUR NEWEST FLAVOUR NUKA-COLA ø"

The voice cut off. And the sound of treads 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. Green ferns and white flowers. A reception office is there, but the small plaque stating closed can be seen. From the looks of the place, you could swear it had been closed for perhaps just half an hour and not two hundred and sixty four years.

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 and scary at the same time. No one liked walking into some dust laden facility, you spent more time coughing then getting anything useful but having some pre-war facility spotless was an oddity, an ominous one at that.

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 stars of each of the many great states of America. A great squadron of war planes flew over his shoulder and marines at his feet marching off to wipe out the enemies of their great nation.

She noted another propaganda poster with a Chinese family on the cover. The man was holding his service rifle, from the old tomes she read it was a AK-47, a Kalashnikov, extremely rare in the wastes, actually it is more of a myth. Next to him was his wife who wore her arm in a sling but was holding what appeared to be a very sharp knife. The child in the middle was short, chubby, cherubic cheeks and the cutest slanted eyes she ever saw. He was holding a grenade. Bellow the poster read in bold letters-

China is the First to Fight… Are you ready to repel the Red Menace?

She was no scholar of the old times, but she did learn from ghouls that the war had been started when The Chinese had invaded the neighboring kingdom of Canada, only to be met by the combined forces of Americas many armies and warriors. The out come had later dissolved into this degenerating dystopian landscape.

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, the box actually ajar so one could see the brass cartridges, a thing worth as much as water in these deadlands. They would have to be hand loaded manually and from what she counted, it was only fifteen. Edden sent the box for Ron, she couldn't use them and her ammo was either .12 gauge two and three quarters or 10mm JHP, AP or FMJ.

The double doors waited and little did she know, the two agents from the distance started to make their way towards the door. And beyond the Men in gray, the Atomic Workers Union was marching along, blood and a lynching on the brain.

Ron got down to one knee, catching the box 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 said in a gentle voice, placing his trigger finger to his lips to get the gesture across to the canine.

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. A knife to the chest did more than give heart burn and discomfort.

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 gray suit jacket and matching gray pants and pair of nice Italian made penny loafers. He had a warm smile and cool gray 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 the 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 Model 4 Robo-Brain, brought to you by our good friends at Western Technologies robotic labs." 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 deserters. 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 of my ability…." Smith 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 holo-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. Now and again he flickered, as holograms did, and through the ages even Smith's crystal began to die down.

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. She got most of the words, especially the 'Maybe' that the singers sang.

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 treader's 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 cubicles, Madame. This is 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 and patriotic luster.

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. The gray matter looked like stale gray meat.

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, but those stains were now muddy brown.

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, it's logic units had no way of deducing the living from the dead, since he was locked more or less to the hard coding of his software, Smith couldn't tell the corpses apart, to him the world is still 2077, Thanksgiving.

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

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

Date: 11/24/2077

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 Durandal 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. I love you always.

Signed
Julian Jenson.

The disturbing 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. Bttzzzzz... Have a nice day." The unit said as it treaded on.

She watched the unit drone by, his arms wielding an Armalite-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 speech 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. Charlyn had a healthy respect for the dead and somethings were best left undisturbed.

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

"Who's there?"

"Don't worry smooth skin. Ol' Alfred don't bite... or don't bite hard." Came the reply, from the manager's office and it was followed by a rusty cackle and a couple of coughs. "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. Bttzz... Mr. Wescot."

Charlyn 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 propaganda 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 Jane 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 Playboy magazine on the table. It looked vintage. There were stacks of assorted magazines on and around the table. Especially those Time magazines with the words WAR on them.

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

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. It felt like electricity on his finger tips. It wasn't the ghoul that bothered him, but perhaps the impending danger that would soon follow.

"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 bony fingers pointed at the dog named Maggie that sat down.

"Hmm, the damn machines were buzzing about some dog escaping the kennels." 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 murmured, his rotted lips barely moving 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 thought 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 bony 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 and you wanna wear his knife." 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... Forget this place and may you live longer."

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 hit them back.

"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 the last two hundred odd 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 now 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 it's 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 scourge 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 stilettos, 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: Epsilon. 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 dust laced floor, at places grimy floor stood testament. The walls were bare, the square tiles censoring the gray 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 color 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 deranged 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 magnetic 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 existence.

bzzWarning! 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-unimpeded doorway lead into an alabaster white corridor which ended in another doorway, presently blocked by what looked like a massive, metal blast door. 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 blast door 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, whispering 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 persistent stare was troubling Edden, so she explained. "The shield would send a jolt through the bots system, frying the circuits. Think pulse bombs."

"Damn it, 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, sprinting 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 force field 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. Ron 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 into the force field, and the minigun and rocket launcher fell from its grasp. Ron picked 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 customary of security and military bots and other ordinance.

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 personnel, attention all security personnel. Intruders detected in sub-level four. All available security personnel 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 blast door had now opened completely, revealing behind it a stale and empty office complex. The walls of the gray 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 way from normal.

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

"God... DAYAMN..."

Edden held her breath as she watched the claw markings. Deja vu. Much like a bad memory long banished from the cortex now re-invoked 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 behemoths armor plated chest.

Snapp.

The shotgun chambers were opened and the buckshot shells replaced with .12 gauge slug shells. Perfect for distance and penetration. The coating of teflon made it able to bypass most conventional armors. The red shells placed in her belt bandoleer 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 (Durandal 2.0) ... Diagnostic checks complete.

Accessing data base ... personnel files ... searching...

Crane, Lee.

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

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 ...