The Adventures of Milky

Chapter 3: Death's Hand

The blizzard engulfed Frostpulse Barrens, the freezing temperature establishing its dominance amongst the elements. A light shining in the darkness, a beacon of hope to all those caught in the cold's embrace. The fire illuminated the dark epicenter of a cave keeping a quiet idiot and a mildly pleased raider from being laid asunder.

"This should keep us alive for a while," Anchor began, "at least until the storm blows over." To Anchor's delight, there was no question or stupid remark. "Hey Milky, what's your favorite thing in this whole wide world?"

Milky's smiling mouth gaped and almost screamed but she clasped her hands over her mouth just in time.

"What was that?" Anchor asked with a smug smile while mockingly cupping his hand around his ear. "I didn't quite hear you."

She stared at him sadly and then smiled, remembering that she had more paper in her rucksack. Anchor gave her a content smile as she rummaged through her sack, pulling out an assortment of strange items. She tossed everything haphazardly from her bag and even struck her friend with a rogue rubber ducky. When she concluded her search by turning the bag over, she found nothing. With a disappointed look, her head slumped as she gave a sniff.

Anchor, rubbing his head from the impact of his rubber assailant held up a small notepad. "Looking for this?"

Milky perked up as she noticed what her friend had in his possession. She nodded her head with enthralled enthusiasm.

"You want this Paper?"

She nodded her head furiously.

Anchor slowly stretched the notepad over the open flame in an 'attempt' at handing it to Milky. Milky, overjoyed, reached for it without hesitation. Before she could reach it, however, Anchor dropped it. "Oops, too slow," he said with a smirk.

Milky squeaked as her friend laughed maniacally at her predicament, having lost her only form of communication.

Anchor's laughter ceased at the intrusion of a third voice.

"Good evening," the deep voice's words bellowed throughout the cave, the reverberation of the echo making it impossible to pinpoint the exact source of it.

Anchor quietly slipped out his weapon and checked the magazine. "Hey Buddy, Why don't you come closer to the fire so we can have a nice, friendly chat," he pulled back the hammer, "face to face?"

"The girl," it pointed out, "why is she crying?"

Milky, still unaware of the situation, continued to sob silently.

"She ran out of paper." He paused at the absurdity of the reason. With a sigh, he explained it more to himself than the voice. "She's sort of a child."

"I have some paper I would be willing to spare for a seat next to your fire."

"And what makes you think we should do—" Anchor started before watching Milky quickly make a dash to the right and grab something, dragging it into the light and revealing a giant black hand with machete-like claws. "M-Milky what the fuck are doing?! That's a—"

"Zeno," stated the dark, towering form of a deathclaw.

Without even realizing it, Anchor had his gun raised and aimed it directly for the deathclaw's head. "What the fuck is that?" he asked.

"My name; Zeno," he echoed.

Anchor's face tightened as his grip on his gun trembled. He lowered his weapon as the deathclaw emerged from the darkness. Anchor stared into the purple eyes of what could only be described as the devil incarnate. The deathclaw towered over the raiders, his face radiated in the glow of the flame; white scars diagonally lined his face. What was offsetting about him was that he was carrying a large rucksack slung over his shoulder.

Milky, still overjoyed at the ability to communicate once more, did little to grasp the gravity of the situation.

"I fear I must also say again, good evening… resident."

Anchor stared for a few moments; beginning to laugh giddily at what he could only assume was his imagination. "So this is what psycho withdrawal is like," he gathered, coming to terms with his insanity. "Shit, now I got babbling moron and an imaginary Edward machete hands. Great."

The deathclaw raised its razor sharp hand, rested it upon Anchor's shoulder and looked him in the eyes. "I assure you human I am more than real, the residents of the past referred to me as Zeno," he explained, "you are also at liberty to call me that, resident."

"Well I have one question for you, Mr. Zeno," Anchor said in an attempt to relax himself. "What in the name of fuck, are you?!"

"Have you not crossed with one of my kind in the past?" Zeno asked with a hint of surprise.

"Oh, yeah, no I know exactly what you are. You're just a figment of my imagination, and, judging by your mannerisms, I'm guessing you're my conscience." Anchor paced himself and examined the creature more closely. "Haven't seen you for a while. Tell me, did you do something with your hair?"

"Are you plagued with The Madness, resident?"

"I went bat-shit a long time ago, bud. Name's Anchor," he offered, extending his hand to shake only to immediately retract it.

"And this one is…?" Zeno lifted a piece of paper from his rucksack, pinching it between his massive claws. Milky snatched it from his grasp and began scribbling.

"Milky," Anchor stated flatly.

Milky held up finger in a gesture to tell him to give her a moment. She handed the deathclaw back the piece of paper with an amateur doodle of the large figure. Zeno read the text written at the bottom aloud. "Mr. Snuggles."

Milky then wrapped her arms around the deathclaw and squeezed tightly.

Zeno tensed at the unfamiliar sensation, feeling threatened. "What is she doing, resident? Is she attempting to battle for dominance?"

Anchor chuckled. "No, worse." He laid back with his arms crossed behind his head against a stalagmite and scowled. "Dude, my advice, as soon as she lets go, get the fuck out of here, because once she grows attached she will never fucking leave… trust me."

"I do not recognize this as a threat, rather… comforting," Zeno cracked a smile.

"Do you hold affection for this Milky, resident?" Milky ended the embrace and stared at Anchor with optimism.

"Well, I wouldn't use 'affection,' it's more along the lines of a partnership."

Milky, satisfied with the answer, looked to Zeno and nodded.

"Ah, I see. That is… nice." Zeno glanced to the cave's entrance, still enveloped in a visible frosty chill. "The weather outside is frightful. May I engage in conversation with you lot until this passes?"

Milky held out her hand to Zeno, expecting something. He reached into his rucksack and handed her another piece of paper which she scrawled upon hastily before handing it to Anchor.

It Read:

Can We Keep It Pleez Pleez Pleez Oh Prity Pleez

Luv Milky

"Oh, for the love of god!"