(A/N): Hello all, I did take a few liberties with Snippy in this but, nothing too major I hope. Again, thank you for taking the time to read and criticism is welcome.

Staying wary, Snippy made his way through the ruins of what seemed to once have been a large housing complex. As he passed from pile to pile of the wreckage he tried to imagine a pre-war scenery, but it looked as though this area had been abandoned even before the war. No food, no useful supplies, not even the skeletons that Snippy had grown so accustomed to seeing could be found lounging about. Perhaps it was this absence of any prior life that made him so paranoid, giving him the feeling that he was being watched.

"It's so empty." Snippy said to himself trying to break the deafening silence. He had never felt so alone before. While the framework of humans lying around may not exactly be alive, he could often feel their empty eye sockets resting upon him when he went on previous missions for Captain. He could almost hear their past whispers sliding through their open jaws. He recalled how Captain and Pilot had arrested one particular skeleton they had called 'Steve' for his 'voluminous wrongdoings against the Kingdom of Captania' which had included arguing with Captain about the moon landing, talking back to Captain in a treacherous tone, and trying to drive away in Pilot's plane. It had always amazed him how Captain and Pilot could so easily place a person into those empty shells, but now as he sat there, no 'Steve's around, he realized how human those empty shells seemed to him.

He made his way through the dilapidated building, or what was left of it before moving out into the open again. As he exited the heap of debris he noticed a lowering to his right he hadn't before, but it was what was in the lowering that really caught his attention. Graves. Rows and rows of mounds of graves. Some were newer, some older, some bigger, some smaller, but each had a small stone or plank of wood with writing on it acting as a gravestone. Curious and against his better judgment, Snippy made his way down the small slope to the strips of death.

When he came to the first mound of turned dirt he began reading the makeshift markers. The writing was clear and loopy, nothing like Snippy's own that he could remember, not that he had much to write about recently. In black paint read Here lies Old Lady Lenore. May you forever chase imaginary kids off your lawn with your dead cat.

The next: RIP Mr. Success. Sorry you never were one.

"What the hell?" Snippy continued reading, each one becoming odder and odder as the writing became more chaotic. Mr. No-Name, there's a reason no one ever asked; Mr. Worm, it may not be your name but you looked like one; Mrs. Can, thank you for keeping my food safe all these years; Mysan Itti, glad to see you go. He began to get the feeling he knew where the previous residents of the town were.

By the time he had read half of the gravestones, he began to feel nervous. His paranoia was swarming like a beehive now, creating shadows, whispering his name. He shook his head, trying to get the silhouette of an old lady swinging a dead cat out of his vision. He could have sworn he saw another shadow in the window of a nearby wall. Shutting his eyes tight, he rubbed them for a bit. "I'm too tired for this," was his answer as he lifted his head from his palms, all shadows of the past gone.

He climbed back up the small hill, heading again for his destination on the knoll now only fifty yard away. The whispers in his mind stopping and allowing the shrill buzzing of silence to set in again which did nothing for his tension. He stepped over a crumbled wall next to the still standing closed door which had once led into someone's home, making his way into the kitchen in hopes of finding food despite not being prosperous yet.

"Shit!" he yelled as a loud noise broke through the silence, spinning around, weapon raised, looking for the source of the clamor. There was no sign of movement except for a small board that was still rocking slightly on the ground, apparently the source of the racket. Snippy let out a breath of relief, relaxing his arms, letting his weapon drop again… until he felt a light pressure on his foot causing him to freeze. Dropping his vision slowly, his lens covered eyes met the small, glassy black dots of a grey rat perched upon his boot and his blood went cold. They stared at one another for a moment. The rat had grown a second tail that it was flicking back in forth in time with its other, its matted grey hair seemed patchy, and in Snippy's eyes a demon had just sat on his boot.

In a motion of pure adrenaline and panic, Snippy punted the rat off his foot, letting out a bellowing battle cry. The small rat hit the wall and began scurrying away as he pulled his rifle up and began unloading his clip at the vermin. He knew he was hitting it because he could see small splatters of blood flying from the creatures body. "Why won't you die?!" As he continued firing at the nimble little creature that seemed to dodge each bullet with fiendish speed he turned his body, gun and eye still on the rat, sprinting to the nearest exit.

Still watching the demon bounce between his bullets, thinking it was still alive even though it was merely ricocheting off of his bullets, he didn't see the low lying beam that he soon rammed his head into, full force, causing his world to go black around him.

"Gah…" A dull throbbing in his head greeted Snippy as he came too. As tried to raise a hand to nurse his sore temple, he became aware both of his hands were stuck. He opened his eyes only to darkness. 'Did I bring the rest of the house down? Am I covered in debris?' For a moment, the thought brought panic. If he was stuck under the ruins, would Captain notice? Surely Engie would notice, but none of them would know where to look.

'Am I going to die here being eaten by rats?' With that last thought his heart skipped a beat and he began to struggle against whatever held him down.

"Finally up, buzzard?" A muffled voice stopped his struggling as he tried to wrap his mind around what was going on. He wasn't getting very far by himself however. 'Who is he? Where am I? What's going on?' So many questions, which to ask first.

"Who am I?" Snippy blurted mixing a few of his questions together, quickly realizing the mistake and correcting himself among the other person's giggles. "I mean… who are you and where am I?" He heard a door close.

"I was wondering how hard you hit yourself. But you're on my territory so I don't have to answer your questions. You can answer mine though." The muffled voice seemed to grow clearer. Snippy didn't enjoy not being able to see. Noticing breathing was more difficult than normal, he guessed that there was a bag over his head getting in the way of the filter. "Who are you?"

Snippy considered arguing but he didn't feel like he was in much of a position to debate. "Snippy. But before we go on, can I lose the blindfold?"

The voice was quiet, which Snippy assumed meant it was weighing it's options. He didn't have to wait too long though before he felt a tug on the fabric covering his face. Still darkness. Then another tug and he could see the masked person in front of him holding the two canvas bags that had covered his head and a small rifle. The man was short, a head or so under Snippy's own height. His gas mask covered the lower portion of his face. A dirty green jacket hung awkwardly on an obviously slim frame, the hood pulled tight over his head. The BDU pants were seemingly just as ill-fitting as the jacket. The oddest, but perhaps most interesting feature visible, were his goggles, nestled over his eyes, having an iridescent appearance. With each turn or nod of the head, the color would go from one color to another. Green, blue, red, yellow mixed together like an oil spill.

After measuring up his captor, his eye scanned the room, searching for a possible way out if given the opportunity. Snippy was laid out on an old cot, effectively tied down with quite a bit of rope. There was one closed door behind the small man, no real windows, but on the wall the cot leaned against someone had drawn a window with a view of a green meadow with mountains in the background. The drawings seemed to be a theme among the room. I plant was painted in the corner, and a bookshelf against the wall opposite him. It was slightly homey in a disturbing way. Snippy turned his eyes back to the problem at hand. "Two? You really needed two bags? Were you trying to suffocate me?"

The short person looked down at the bags he held then again at Snippy, the lenses turning to a yellow with hints of red as if the goggles were blushing. "No, your lenses kept staring at me all creepy like while you were passed out so I covered your face. Then I double bagged it in case one fell off because I didn't like being creeped out. It's like you were dead and dead things don't need to be carried anywhere but the graveyard." The voice seemed to rush a bit as its breath ran out, the pitch going up to a strangely high octave.

"So you're the one that ma-" Snippy was cut short by the butt of the rifle being jabbed into his ribs causing him to lose his breath.

"No question for you!" The lenses flashed an icy blue. "Why were you out here?"

Snippy breathed deeply; he had nothing to hide. "I'm with a small group. I was sent to scout out ahead and find food."

"Small group? Where are the others?"

"Still at the other base."

"What's your commanding officers name?"

"Captain."

"How many of you are there?"

"Four including me."

"What's your favorite color?

"What?

"Are you currently on any prescribed medication?"

"Huh? No?

"If a tainted tadpole could talk to titties, would he?"

"What the hell are you on?"

"Take off your mask."

This one caught Snippy off guard. Not only did the odd questions the person was firing off turn into a command, but the voice had changed. It was higher pitched and steady, like that of a child.

"What?"

"You heard me." 'Not a child. A girl.' "Take it off."

"I can't move." It had been so long since he had heard a girls voice. He wracked his memories trying to recall the last female he'd spoken too. It had been on one of his last tour guide missions. One lady in particular kept screaming about how they were all going to die in the wasteland after she had seen a skeleton's head fall off and of course Snippy had gotten stuck with trying to calm her down when all he wanted to do was throw her out of the tour vehicle.

His thoughts were broken as he felt the rough tug of his mask being removed. The other person, the girl, and her iridescent goggles were only a few inches from his face. He could feel her eyes scanning his face, scrutinizing every detail. He could hear her breathing.

"You have eyes," she state matter-of-factly, nodding her head for emphasis.

"Yes." Snippy didn't know what else to say. She wasn't backing away.

"Also, your breath stinks, Mr. Buzzard." Snippy's face reddened. How long had it been since he had time to worry about his personal hygiene? No, his breath probably wasn't the best right now. Then he remembered her gas mask.

"Wait, how can you smell my breath?" She giggled behind her mask, lifting her head away from Snippy.

Her goggles glimmered green. "I can't silly Buzzard. I just had to make sure you weren't one of them."

"One of who? And why do you keep calling me Buzzard? My name's Snippy." Snippy's face was still slightly warm from the accusation she had made earlier.

"You were scavenging like a buzzard would. Not to mention the number you did on the poor rat. No good meat left to eat on it. Just like a buzzard." Snippy followed her with his eyes as walked to the foot of his bed and kneeled down. She looked his direction again, the green of her goggles again replaced by blue. "Can I trust you?"

'She was watching me?' Snippy looked down at her, unsure of how to answer her question. "Only as much as I can trust you," was the response he settled on.

Apparently it was close enough to what she was looking for because he felt the ropes relax around his body, her goggles shimmering random colors as she stood up again, pulling the rope off of Snippy, freeing him. He finished untangling himself from the coils and sat up slowly slightly dizzy from being down so long. He looked over to the odd girl who he once called captor, her mask and goggles now off sitting next to his. Blue eyes met hazel.

"Call me Sana."

"I have heard the languages of apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence." - Neil Gaiman, The Sandman: Endless Nights