"Blood, Sweat and Tears"

[Ithildin]

I won't speculate; just want to say that was completely unexpected, and I'm highly intrigued! Sometimes it's a lot of fun to be thrown for a loop. :biggrin:

[BlueDanube]

*blank stare after couple hour read and re-read this chapter with the wiki guidance*, finnaly gave up....... still can't find out whose the 2 fella. :wacko:

i'll just wait till someone figure it out ~_~.

 

as for the reffrence its 1954 marvel comic "Conan the Barbarian"

[AliasTheory]

as for the reffrence its 1954 marvel comic "Conan the Barbarian"

It's the less obvious reference. That's Fallout 3's twist, not mine.

 

The connections are there; looking back on older chapters will help. Perhaps you may find out something you didn't know...

[Spaceritual]

Doing a quick google I came up with Trinity True Blood ....

[AliasTheory]

Doing a quick google I came up with Trinity True Blood ....

Google what?

 

I encourage some speculation. It helps me to see how my readers think, thus helping me structure future parts of the story. Perhaps I write with not enough involvement or the plot is ambiguous (though this particular chapter was meant to.)

 

It helps to look for consistencies and at described tones in the voices, by the way.

[AliasTheory]

<----- BACKWARD

 

============================

Chapter 21: A Girl's Business

============================

 

The pale, cold darkness of the night and the solitude wasn’t really something I would have rather avoided. As planned, it was perfect, just sitting on top of that hill with that umbrella of a tree with no company. It gave me time to think about many things; I was too thoughtful to shiver, feel those gusts of razor sharp leaves cutting past my face or watch the stars and the moon retreat back behind the deep oranges and blues of dawn.

 

Subject number one was Lyn. Boy did she change; the whole experience has been like what I learned was once called a rollercoaster; it was short and sweet at first, tension and anxiety then coalescing, only to be followed by the dramatic, stomach-lurching drop back into delicateness. The only difference that I can’t tell is what happened after that delicateness: some true, mutual understanding, or perhaps a fiery wreck – a fun day gone wrong? I suppose her openness has made her more trustworthy. To put it in a nutshell, Butch would say she went from “some hot chick” back in the Vault to “some b****” to “some emo girl.” He sure has a way with words at times, but he’s there when you need him like a true friend, especially when one discovers he has some sort of strange machine screwing with his head, somehow changing the way he acts.

 

That got me to my next and final point - a big one at that. Talking about the past – especially the Vault – got me also thinking back to getting involved in this mess in the first place, even before Autumn had mistakenly captured us looking for information that we didn’t have. Who knows that information is now obvious, but I remember years ago – perhaps a couple – when we had been captured by the devilish Enclave one peaceful evening, Autumn once again our company, saying we were in possession of technology that belonged to them. They never elaborated on the topic, and that “police” of a polar opposite force, the Brotherhood of Steel, never believed that whole story without physical proof of the Enclave’s existence following our escape. We had no inkling as to what the colonel was talking about at the time, but now things are making a little more sense. The Auprets are perhaps that missing link, but then again, that begs the question: how did they know about me? Was it through perhaps the same data logs that had guided me to that conclusion? (That’s about all I learned from that text, the riddle in it about the mind still a complication.) Perhaps it was the same way we stumbled across the FEV during our unauthorized venturing around the Enclave base; those hideous and disfigured abominations of humans haunt me to this day. But it’s all a mystery indeed; the devils’ reasons for wanting it are probably no different than possibly wanting that wretched virus at Project Purity: to rule the desperate population of the Capital Wasteland, who is ignorant of what is truly going behind the continuous (and now very obvious) Enclave propaganda going about via radio. Other than this, those demons are invisible. “Freedom for all!” a voice rises over the speakers. “Your president makes it his duty to serve the nation; a roof above each man’s head, free from the grotesque perils and abominations that now roam the world!” But nothing has ever happened like that, since forever. No audio recordings, public speakers or even history books tell us of any sort of change. It’s not like us American citizens had a choice to not be ignorant, anyway.

 

Everything is still one big mess. There doesn’t seem much of a choice other than to move on and get those Stealth Boys. The Enclave loses with their FEV scheme (whatever it is supposed to do,) Lyn wins, and everyone lives happily ever after. The arrogant Brotherhood of Tin Cans can keep all their technology and crap afterward if they don’t want to listen.

 

And Saori? Love? I’ll figure things out.

-------------

 

Lazily sitting on the hill, the sun now rises. I check my side to notice the teacups resting upright, at least my share now empty. Now having departed my train of thought, I shuffle back to the tent. I’m kind of hungry and my mouth is as dry as the Wasteland itself. Thinking does that to me.

 

I peek inside the flaps of the tent to see my friends sleeping soundly after rubbing my eyes into focus. Empty food containers and blankets are thrown about, and I set the empty teacups from the nighttime chat on the ground next to the many muddy pairs of black boots nearby. It’s a cramped world alright; Butch drools, shades still on, his arms sprawled across Saya, who sleeps sideways, her arms clasped together. Saori is curled, her thumb in her mouth.

 

I hope that girl is not practicing for anything, because I won’t be getting even close to that. I’ll have to break the news to her. My concerns are elsewhere.

 

Regardless, that only leaves one person – one who I had overlooked. To my surprise, Lyn sits facing the corner, awake, digging through her backpack for who knows what.

 

I clear my throat. “Good morning to you,” I call softly. “You’re up early.”

 

She doesn’t respond to me. Instead she turns around with a mass of what seem like metal tools in hand and walks past me.

 

“Come outside with me,” she says as she passes. She stops to turn to me. “Don’t worry; I won’t try to attack you or anything.”

 

I stroke my chin in consideration, also reminding me that I may need a quick shave soon. With the light of the morning piercing through the crevices between the shadowy leaves of that hilly tree, we head outside towards it, but on the left side instead, the tools jingling as we go. As the brilliant yet slightly dismal outlook of the countryside comes into view, we come to an abrupt stop.

 

Lyn puts her hand in her pants pocket, and then quickly withdraws it. Taking an elastic band with a floral design, she collects her long, silky hair in her hands from her head’s entirety and binds it together. She’s fast; I never understood how girls do that sort of stuff, anyway. It looks complicated.

 

“So,” I speak up, “what did you need-”

 

Lyn twirls around and holds out a small pair of scissors to me. She points to her left bang, evidently longer and more outgrown than the other. “Cut it off,” she says sternly, looking at me through the corner of her blue eye. The difference in her iris colors because of her recent blindness isn’t all too palpable.

 

“What? You want me to cut hair?” I chuckle. “I’m the wrong guy to ask. I thought we were going to have some sort of philosophical talk-“

 

With an indifferent face, she slaps the front of my shoulder with the back of her hand.

 

“Okay, now what? I thought you said you weren’t going to attack me?”

 

“Shut up. Don’t be a pussy. Just cut it…nicely.”

 

Obediently, I take the pair of scissors and grasp her oddly elongated lock, making sure to cut as evenly as possible, occasionally using the other side of her head as a reference.

 

“So, why the change of pace?” I ask, still concentrating. I pause and give it some thought for a moment. “Well,” I hypothesize, “I think that hair would get in my way too.”

 

“I have my reasons.”

 

Pulling a small portion of the hair to make it taut, I trim it off. “I’ll bet,” I say. “But you want to answer my question from last night?”

 

“I thought about it.”

 

“Oh yeah?” I stop, my task still incomplete. “Let’s hear it.” The anticipation of her response is probably the only other thing that kept me awake this past night.

 

“…I don’t know,” she sighs. I feel dumbstruck and underwhelmed, ready to speak up again, but Lyn elaborates. “It has only happened a few times since I’ve been out here, and it seems random. If I knew, I would tell you.”

 

I guess all I can really do is take it in and accept her words. “Fine. And about the VATS...?”

 

"What about it?"

 

"Where did you get it from? Those things don't grow on trees...heck, nothing else really does."

 

"From Jonas - perhaps even a year before you all left. It was the only one in Vault 101 when I told him I would be leaving as well. I've always been blind in my left side practically since birth...and here I am again."

 

After I snip the very last of those golden locks, Lyn tips over to pick up what was once a part of her, the wind just starting to pick up, the natural landscape superimposed by the smooth leaves twirling by. Then she turns to face me with a rather warm expression. “Thanks,” she says. Sticking her empty right hand into her other pocket, she pulls out a clump of thick grey and black hair. That better not be any of mine; I know I have a few grays sticking out back there.

 

She frowns, her gaze shifting towards the bundle. “I couldn’t let go.”

 

In that moment I realize it is not my hair or anyone’s hair from this campsite, but if by some strange twist of fate, its owner might have been able to join us.

 

“Dogmeat, huh…?”

 

“Yes.” Lyn breathes in deeply in preparation. “He’s been everything to me for the past couple years.” She raises her other hand with her own, longer hair flowing through her fingers, ostensibly in juxtaposition to Dogmeat’s counterpart. “But it’s all history now. I don’t need his hair to remember him. It’s part of me now.”

 

I habitually stroke my chin. That prickly feeling is already getting annoying, even if it is just fuzz. “Can’t you say the same for the locket?” I question.

 

“It’s more than just belonging. That’s the difference; its Dad’s soul too.”

 

“But he’s DEAD. Is there really any?”

 

Her face gestures in discomfort, but it eases with some effort. “That still doesn’t give me the right to decide,” she answers. “It’s his gift to me, and that’s the difference. It’s more than a memory.”

 

Years ago, those words would have passed right through my transparent self. My story is true: I had no parents growing up. I lived alone for quite some time; in my earlier years, I ate in the Vault cafeteria in solitude before I met everyone else. Books and knowledge were my only sources of comfort after the Overseer jammed some sense into me, but I understand Lyn now thanks to my friends. We’ve had many close calls, especially as of recent days.

 

“You’re right,” I admit. Being wrong is always hard for me. “Your call.”

 

“Good.” Respiring in an almost in a meditative state, she puts her hands together to mix the crude and graceful together. “Now to forget myself as well. Only the bad.”

 

Lyn is about to let go of her mementos, but…

 

“Wait!” I lash out to grasp her wrist with my right hand before her grip dissipates. She doesn’t move a muscle. I look up to her with seriousness.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“I am,” she says sternly. Shoulder to shoulder, I resume my posture, and with an almost blessing motion of her fingers, the glimmering strands disperse in the breeze and into nothingness.

 

http://fallout3nexus.com/imageshare/images/2144141-1294726870.png

 

“Now I can say farewell to the past, and to everything I’ve been.” She looks down at her locket. “I know they’ll both be with me.”

 

…with one of them a whole dream closer.

 

-------------

 

With the ceremony over, it’s a casual and lazy stroll back to the tent. Lyn and I don’t talk the entire way. Upon our approach, Lyn gently folds back the flaps to reveal an unfortunate truth: everyone is still sleeping, the scene completely unchanged and of persistent disorder.

 

“Wow,” she says, almost sounding ashamed to be in our presence. “You guys sure like to sleep.”

 

“Only them.” Okay, I lied; if there was another reason for my wakefulness under those stars last night, it was because of the little devil in me. I hold a finger to my lips with a malicious smirk. “Watch this.”

 

They won’t mind. It isn’t the first time I’ve done something like this.

 

“Hey, everyone!” I shout. “We’re running out of food rations! Lots of walking today so we can restock!”

 

There is hardly even an inch of movement; the many limbs of those sloths move around aimlessly. Lyn looks a bit bewildered. But it’s all expected.

 

“And it’s three in the afternoon!” I add, singsong.

 

“WHAT!?” Saya and Butch jump to an upright position, tangled covers now thrown into the air. Saori blinks awake, and noticing her saliva-soaked thumb makes her jerk backward in disgust and embarrassment.

 

“But we’ll never make it! We’re too far away!” Saya says, cocooned in her blanket, her voice trembling. “The nearest city is Megaton and that’s-”

 

“Nah. I was just joking,” I dismiss, grinning. “I’ve always wanted to do that. It’s only around eight in the morning.”

 

Almost immediately, I catch a glimpse of an empty food can comes hurling my way, conclusively impacting the front of my shoulder with a thump.

 

“Ow! Not the same spot!” Lyn rolls her eyes as I dust the area free of the leftover grub, lightly pushing the can aside with the tip of my boot. The “who” is no mystery; only one person could have thrown it that hard.

 

Butch squints over his shades. “You’re a reeeeeeal dick,” he grumbles.

 

“And I am,” I declare. “So get ready to go. Megaton is far.”

 

Lyn interrupts. “We’re not going to Megaton.”

 

I have to smile again, albeit more weakly, eyes peering away in thought. “Yeah, I know it’s kind of far. And I know what you said last night, but come on…”

 

“You said you all would follow me in this fetching,” she blankly proceeds. “So we’re going to Underworld.”

 

“Underworld?!” I exclaim. The thought of it almost steals my breath away. To us, that is uncharted territory; I’m not sure what to say, or rather, where to even begin in my mess of thoughts. Saori cups her mouth and nose with her hands in astonishment and fear. “No! We can’t go there…you don’t know what they’ll do to us!”

 

“It’s much closer,” Lyn says, unfazed by our reaction. “Half a day’s walk. And I know people there. We can drop our luggage over there, move on to the Depot, and then return for it.”

 

“The people you know are Ghouls,” Butch corrects. He closes in and points to her in anger, staring her down. “Huh.” His tone oddly shifts to a brighter one and withdraws his aggression. “Nice hair.”

 

Underworld is the city of non-feral Ghouls deep in Washington D.C., located inside the Museum of History. Some Wastelanders say it is like another purgatory, where those who kept their sanity despite their hideous and mutated condition – caused by massive amounts of lingering radiation – live, unable to pass on to the next life. Yet, just as there are the humans, the Super Mutants, the Enclave and the Brotherhood of Steel, the Ghouls are a faction of their own, often rejected by the group they could once call their own. The rumors that have propagated over the years say for any “smoothskins” going there would mean certain death by a hell’s deep worth of lead…or worse. We’re not tolerated.

 

I scratch my head as I think aloud. “I can’t imagine why those Ghouls would allow the rest of us to stop by, let alone stay a night there, Lyn. You might know them, but I think you are mistaken if believe the rest of us can just waltz in there unscathed.”

 

She’s confident in her decision, and replies. “Would it help if I said after being nursed at Canterbury, I lived there ever since?”

 

Saya looks interested. “You lived in Canterbury?” She puts her index finger on her lip and dozes off in wonder. “They have everything there, even those cute…adorable…what were they called?” She closes an eye in recollection. “Teddy bears, I think? I’ve always wanted one…”

 

“Lyn, that’s not an answer,” Saori exhales in disappointment. Cross-legged, she puts her hand on her hip. Noticing her thumb still glistening with wetness, even after a slapdash attempt, she wipes it on the fuzzy and wrinkled goldenrod cloth laid out on the floor behind her.

 

“Hey, hey,” Butch warns. “Not on my stuff.”

 

“Grow a pair, muscleman,” she shoos. “Again, it means they like you, not us. And it is never too late for them to turn a gun on you.”

 

Zipping and clicking noises from our equipment fill the background as Saya helps to clean up our untidy and temporary living space, but Lyn keeps the conversation flowing.

 

“Don’t believe those rumors; after a year of being there, I think it is safe to say they are harmless, maybe even better than some of the other popular settlements. And I wouldn’t lie to you all because this is a two-for-one situation, remember that.”

 

A pause.

 

“I need you guys too,” she says.

 

Everyone stops to think, time again at a still. It’s definitely a choice of convenience whether to risk imminent safety or a face-full of bullets. The Depot is not too far away from Underworld either; the National Mall branches off into several rivulets of roads, making it easy to get virtually anywhere in the destroyed city. The Willard Hotel, the White House and the Capitol Building were hit the hardest by the nukes and are always fraught with danger compared to elsewhere, so by sticking to the radio broadcasts, walking around it all should pose no hazards to us. Even from our limited experience in this area, contrary to popular belief, the warzones are only in the most historically relevant locations of the city. Why that is may have to deal with those Chinese invaders who foolishly thought they were fighting to win; there would be no history left to rewrite of their own either, generations of recorded memories literally scorched. Adventurers there are looking for knowledge that no longer exists, and those Super Mutants, despite being intelligence deprived, mysteriously follow the trend. The twisted origin of those disgustingly identical brutes is still a mystery.

 

But in all, this seems like a very plausible trip. Perhaps those Ghouls over there may even know information that I’d be more than willing to digest, the scenario likely a mere fantasy in the pure human settlements. In a certain sense, maybe they even know a little about me, too.

 

I look up as I break the silence. “We’re going. You know what that means.”

 

“Oh no!” Butch roars jokingly. “She’s converted you! You are starting to think alike!”

 

Saya begins to bob her fingers in and out with the corner of her mouth low. My face meets my hand in dissatisfaction. “Shut it. Look, it’s a good idea; it’s much safer then you all may think,” I say optimistically. “Ghouls were truly human once. I think Lyn is right. I trust her.”

 

Lyn raises her finger to address me, but I don’t give her lips the chance.

 

“But on one condition.”

 

Everybody gestures in amusement and calling, inviting my opinion.

 

“I’m leading. And I get the map.”

 

-------------

 

I’ve convinced myself we are going to get in. We have to; otherwise we can let our cause be known. If Lyn was open enough to start talking about the veiled and dreadful past she swore to forget, I think we are on the right track. Nobody makes that kind of stuff up practically on the spot.

 

After scraping through our last morsels of rations and rehydrating, we start trekking west to later circle back into the Mall. It won’t be too bad. Maybe we’ll even have some eventful conversations along the way.

The sun shines brightly over the hills of arid wasteland with a clear blue sky, the exchanger strapped over Butch’s backside. The temperature is refreshingly cool today. The five of us travel down a fractured road with lopsided telephone poles, we in a near single-file line; I’m in the front and Butch is on the far end, the girls fluctuating positions in between. It helps to follow this style by my logic; if we were to get assailed from the side, which is more probable given our directional focus, the magnitude of the total damage we would sustain would be less if by gunfire. I know; it’s survival skills. Heck, anyone would agree that all this travelling would get his thinker-box working, though maybe not in the same, technical way.

 

Another day.

 

Saya speaks. “Lyn, you look very pretty today.”

 

“Oh, uh, what?” Lyn shakes herself conscious in awkward realization.

 

“I like what you’ve done with your hair.”

 

“Uhh, thanks…I guess.” She lightly fingers through her locks. “I suppose is kinda nice.”

 

“Maybe I can show you some styling tricks if we get into Underworld.” Saya tilts her head slightly and smiles. “But I can’t get Saori’s look.”

 

I am then reminded of Saori’s secret attraction to me. If there is one thing I really don’t like, it’s when people hide things from me. Stealing a quick glance in her direction reveals a rather dejected image of that sassy girl, her gaze low, probably immersed in thought.

 

I’ll bring the fight if she won’t. I fall back next to her.

 

“Hey, ‘Mechanic’.” I nudge her shoulder.

 

“Agh, what do you want?” she drowsily complains. “We had to get up so early…don’t bug me if we have to get up early…”

 

“Oh, nothing,” I utter cheerily. “I just heard you are into me or something like that.”

 

“Hehe…hua-HUH? WHAT?! No, I don’t love you! Not like that!” Now more alive than ever, she shakes her head in denial and madly gives a weak and deep chuckle, eyes quick to turn fanatically large, staring into my soul. “That’s preposterous! Absurd! I don’t care about that weird stuff.”

 

Everyone is perplexed by her outburst, and Butch gives me partly concealed “thumbs up”. Saya looks nervous, as if she did something wrong, and Lyn is taken aback.

 

“M’kay,” I shrug, although understanding of her true intentions that were made quite clear. “Solves that question. Moving on.”

 

“No! Nononono…!” Her words morph back into that maniacal, crazed giggle. Saori scampers in front of me, and like upright dominoes, I stop – followed by everyone else. “I was just kidding!” She grabs the front of my suit near my chest area and brings the leather closer to her, reeling me in. “Haha! I lied! I do! I do!”

 

Our noses are almost touching.

 

“Well, you can forget it. Sorry.” I try to pry her fingers individually off my suit, but it’s much easier than I thought; her grip is now weak. I gently push her away. “I needed to say that I’m not interested. Not happening.”

 

Those words must have been painful as her posture begins to sink, her breath a whimper, her arms now dangling as if of rubber; even her hairdo itself seems to frown.

 

Saori puts her hands together as if to pray to me, saddened by my reaction. “But…but…why?”

 

“I said it already: I’m not interested. I don’t need a distraction, alright?”

 

“No! We have to!” Her shoulders narrow, arms taut and extended downwards with fists, body at a slant towards me. “We are so together!”

 

“You could at least respect me about it all.” I start walking again. “Come on everyone, let’s move along.”

 

Everyone begins to move forward again, with the exception of the broken lover. We take not even a couple steps.

 

“Drew!” Saori pouts. “You don’t understand anything about girls!”

 

We all stop again. I stop and turn around, giving a forceful sigh. “Because I’m NOT a girl, that’s why.”

 

“Woah!” Butch interrupts. “Now there would be a trippy thought. That’d be kinda hot.”

 

There’s prolonged silence.

 

“That’s creepy Butchie,” Saya comments with a grimace. “Like with a ‘k’ kind of creepy.”

 

“Okay! Okay! Sorry.”

 

“There! Thank you so much Saya,” I announce, my sincerity at a fraction. “Now I don’t have to waste any more of my breath. And for your information, ‘creepy’ is never spelled with a-”

 

“FINE!” Saori blurts, resuming control. “You don’t understand anything about RELATIONSHIPS!”

 

“Oh, okay then.” I have to smirk. “We’re together. But we’re breaking up right now.” I proceed to humorously mimic her tone. “’I don’t love you!’ That’s what you said, right? Game over!”

 

“I was kidding!” Her face begins to redden. “And that was too simple…that was too easy! There was no arguing, no fighting…all that other stuff earlier doesn’t count!”

 

I guess I really don’t understand enough about women. “Saori, seriously, I don’t want to argue.”

 

“But you have to argue! It’s what is supposed to happen! You can’t break up if you don’t fight about it…”

 

I’m not sure how to take it; whose side is she on?

 

“You are wrong; I don’t have to. It’s that simple. There’s no stupid handbook that says I have to argue about this sort of thing, and there’s no religion or tradition that says I have to. I’m not a part of it. Capeesh?”

 

“It’s not okay!” She exhales in frustration. “Why can’t you understand?”

 

“But I DO, Saori. We have officially broken up now. See? By your rules.”

 

Speechless from her self-defeat, her cheek and eyebrow twitch in frustration.

 

For some reason, I feel strangely happy. It was hardly rageful, instead entertaining. I might have been deceitful earlier. “That was probably the cutest conversation I’ve ever had in my life,” I admit. “You may try again sometime.”

 

Nobody speaks. With Saori apparently heartbroken, I assume the leader position again. “We’re wasting time,” I say. “Even if it is a shorter trip. Less talking, less gawking and more walking.” Lyn is quick to follow my example.

 

In moments I hear another female voice from behind me, the most innocent, kindest and the most untainted one of them all.

 

“Sometimes you can be so heartless.”

 

 

 

FORWARD ----->

Edited June 22, 2011 by AliasTheory

[AliasTheory]

This is kinda long. The last scene would have gotten another chapter, but I'm a lazy SOB and don't want to make an image for it. Not enough going on there.

 

Please beat the crap out of my writing by finding grammatical errors, etc. It's how I get better. But be nice.

 

Sorry for the late post. I just realized how much fun playing Halo is again, especially when you've got a friend to talk to. And the schoolwork is always there.

[BlueDanube]

amazing chapter,i really had fun reading it :teehee:

[Spaceritual]

The first part of this chapter really went by nicely....fleshing out bits and having a good flow... the second bit did not seem to fit at all well...your main character was oddly childlike in his attitude but with no motivation to it....why was he so uncaring and to be honest cruel to Saori , that really did seem to come out of nowhere , it all seemed very odd to me unless of course it has a not yet revealed reason behind it...

[AliasTheory]

Ah, it seems you take it the same way as Ithildin. The context of the story is a very self-demanding one, and the mentality evidently sticks here in both of the "lovers". The Capital Wasteland is a world of survival, centered around one's sense of well-being and is always about necessity. So far, I think I've made that aspect clear, and moralistically, that ideology fails here. But obviously not everyone is plagued by this way of thinking, hence the assessment at the end.

 

A quick analysis of the more recent chapters reveals maturity in the protagonist in technical respects rather than respects you might think of, such as emotionally. This links back to what I mentioned about the context. This characteristic flaw is something I once had, fairly indifferent towards others' feelings.

Edited January 14, 2011 by AliasTheory