"Blood, Sweat and Tears"

[Spaceritual]

interesting...so you are suggesting a lack of emotional maturity then , I suppose that is also a reflection on modern life where although technically advancing we seem to be going backward emotionally or some are..as the technology takes over...I guess that would be magnified by the isolation small groups of humanity in this future would feel.. food for thought indeed...thanks for taking the time there :)

 

 

Edit. Congrats on over 4.5 k of views...your story is certainly gaining a following..

[Keanumoreira]

Hello Alias, sorry I haven't been leaving my comments lately, I've been busy doing other things.

 

I just finished up chapter 19 and I was very impressed with it. I don't know how you did it, but that chapter was hard to pull away from, with all those dark secrets and files of memories bottled up in Lyn. Fantastic job, and keep up the good work. :thumbsup:

[AliasTheory]

Hello everyone,

 

Sorry, but I will be putting this story on hold for a little while. As the digital illustrator of a friend's comic that I am helping to co-author, I have another art project to do in addition to another which spawned around the same time. Academic tests are coming up as well, which means more studying and less writing, etc. So no chapter or image this week...it is quite a rough and impractical schedule now, seeing how much I actually have to do.

 

However, it seems nobody has really managed to put together the consistencies and clues I've scattered about. There's actually a good deal of material to start theorizing from, but I haven't heard anything substantial, especially from the enigmatic chapter 20. Every character, just like every person in real life, has a story to tell and perhaps differently because of their relative perspective; imagine what they may be thinking, how they come off to other characters and what they are trying to actually imply to their audience. Also ask yourselves why I've written things a certain way, why I've picked a certain word and why I've made certain characters do particular things, including what that means in the long term.

[Deleted54170User]

That's is incredible how you make all those pieces fit together. If it weren't for all the breaks in between it would likely flow off the eyes into the head with ease and make a person happy to join you, who is trying to experience your escape from reality with you, more comfortable in doing so.

 

Jumbled around like the words are it is as rough a draft as I had with my story in the...Day Dreams of a Spaced out Old Man...before. I hope you will consider editing and rewriting it so it becomes a best seller some day. As I hope too, I will be around than to be able to purchase your book.

[AliasTheory]

Ithildin is my editor, and I have looked over old chapters. I plan to rewrite some of the older parts as mentioned before, though life is still a wee bit busy. Thank you for your comment.

 

Now that most of my other crap is out of the way, I can kinda start writing again. Currently working on the next part *at last!*

[AliasTheory]

<----- BACKWARD

 

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

Chapter 22: Worlds on a Side

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

 

It may be to Underworld, a mere dozen ruined blocks of hapless cityscape and some couple ranges of roaming hillsides away, but the day persists, feeling dark and heavy in midst of the crisp, cloudless afternoon; Saya’s words had strung me with no less venom than a fully-grown Radscorpion. Like that creature’s kiss of death, the world seemed to slow to a drunken sway, my head and heart unable to comprehend Saya’s words upon a graze, the later absorption of it all leaving me throbbing in feeling. A mile of casual journeying down the long and winding road, and I feel a question. A crumbling street sign and a fractured road pans by; then I am filled with doubt. Block after block, there is hardly a word from anyone, perhaps that crumpled sketch of a map of closer company than my friends, my true feelings concealed by an emotionless façade.

 

Cast down in regret, I want to apologize and make up for my actions. I’ll think of something eventually, but how am I supposed to feel? Accomplishment hasn’t felt this bitter for me – or at least not since I can remember. The sooner Underworld comes, the better; a night under the stars is too short of a retreat after wrestling with the jaws of death…quite literally. And more – what of the Auprets? What about me?

 

Time is no obstacle. A few hours pass after wallowing so deeply through those mental mires, the environment now of a warm orange tint. Turning the corner of the street reveals an evening sun hidden behind the Washington Monument. As a warzone, supposedly rekindled by the human traffickers rumored to be holed up inside, the Lincoln Memorial is clearly visible on the far end; not even the tiniest of leaflets or twigs obscure the view over the lengthy distance. An elongated, arid ditch – bordered by chipped pearlescent tiles - divides both landmarks, all likely a mere memory of some brighter past.

 

Yet, just as I had requested, life moves on without any pauses or sightseeing. Underworld is a pretty big place; it’s full of good stuff like every other civilization out here from what I have heard, though I will have to see it with my own eyes. If Lyn is being honest, we should be able to get in without a problem. A roof, a mattress and running water - warm or not - will feel just perfect. And some food, too.

 

Passing by the Washington Memorial, we take a sharp left and step inside the Museum of History, whose atmosphere is hardly any contrast from the metros, the surroundings so dimly lit and musty. Everyone scuttles indoors; the dual wooden doors are big and heavy, and despite their slow transition to close shut, do so with a loud, echoing bang. The true entrance to Underworld is just beyond the abandoned reception desk in front of us. It’s time to make the move.

 

“Lyn-”

 

“I’ll handle this.” I look at her in attention, but she sighs, staring into the dark, outlying corner where sparks flower from a large barrel, radiating with flames. “There’s no place quite like home,” she says, as if to sample whatever fresh air remains.

 

I hear Saori mumble. “Home, huh…”

 

Lyn returns to give me my attention. “A good friend of mine named Winthrop engineers a lot of the security bots inside,” she comments. “To keep things safe. You can think of him as the security guard; I’ll make sure he doesn’t shoot you all up.”

 

I quietly nod in agreement as we pass through the reception room. Warm light beats against the gaping and cavernous jaws of those towering, prehistoric mammal skeletons watching over us. Everyone climbs the small fleet of stairs that are draped with a grand yet tattered red carpet, we ready to open another curvy wooden door.

 

“Everyone just stay behind me,” she says, voice low.

 

The distance between the rest of us lessens, as if to comically hide behind Lyn’s figure. Butch grunts, and following the sound of a light slap, Saya softly squeals in apparent surprise.

 

“Hey, cut it out,” Saori corrects. I am not sure about what is happening.

 

Lyn opens the door casually and confidently. Before any image of the true interior reveals itself, we are all blinded by sudden whiteness. The sounds of electronics powering on and the loading of guns fill the air. Whirring and spinning of some large, mechanical beast add to the fear of an imminent attack. My eyes begin to tear as I try to fight through it all.

 

A gritty and raucous voice fades in, approaching. “Wait a minute…stop…stop, STOP!”

 

The whiteness and lethal sounds die down, and with that, Underworld comes into view. A dilapidated chandelier struggles to illuminate the room with its orange light. Several Mr. Gutsy variants – military counterparts of former technology giant General Atomic’s Mr. Handy robot – emerge from the smokescreen, mechanically attached buzz saws coming to a slow, their flamethrowers cooling down and bodies becoming static once again.

 

I spot many non-feral ghouls on the symmetrical stairways, conversing under their breaths; their hideous forms are hidden by human clothes ranging from grimy pink parkstroller dresses, leather dusters, and tattered robes. The closest one approaches us in a RobCo jumpsuit; he’s next to hairless like many others of his kind we’ve witnessed in the past.

 

I manage to spot a joyful smile through all of presumably Winthrop’s wrinkled flesh.

 

“Ahh, Lyn, so you’ve returned!” Winthrop and Lyn embrace each other in a friendly hug; Lyn for once looks so happy. Stealing a quick glance to my left, I observe Saya childishly spitting her tongue out of the corner of her mouth in disgust. “Eww…he’s like all gross and stuff,” she shivers.

 

The odd couple separate. “Tara will be so glad to see you!” the ghoul exclaims. “So, what brings you back-”

 

Winthrop peers over Lyn’s shoulder and notices us, his eyes thin in disappointment and disgust.

 

His mutated and raspy voice is immediate to become serious. “You’ve been here long enough. I thought we had a deal,” he snarls.

 

“These are my friends, Winthrop.” Lyn gestures her hand in welcoming, though Butch gives off an awkward, cheesy grin. “Just a day or two is all I ask,” she requests delicately.

 

“Yeah?” He crosses his arms. “And what makes you think we’re going to share our resources that easily? You’re different, girl; you proved yourself out there to us in The Mall. We owe you.” He points to me with a crinkly finger. “These guys – nuh uh. Don’t got nuthin.”

 

“Drew and his allies saved my life. I think for that reason alone you owe them your company, don’t you agree? Even then, they are helping me with Dad.”

 

Surprised, Winthrop inhales deeply in acknowledgment and peers down in thought. “Hmm. So you found your Pop, eh…? Just like you said…”

 

“Yes, in a way.”

 

The world becomes very quiet and still.

 

“Don’t you believe me?” Lyn says.

 

“Yeah, I believe you. It’s not that I have a problem with your friends; it’s Leader Roy Phillips that might. He’s on leave for today and should be back late tomorrow afternoon. But no matter.” He glances up at me and his grin returns, he rubbing his chin. “Come with me. This young lady, as smooth-skinned as she may be, has brought much joy to Underworld. She can’t be the only one to do so.”

 

Saori timidly raises her hand in question.“But what about Roy?”

 

“Regardless if you are all still here when he returns, I’ll find a way to reason with him. He’s not such a bad guy, I promise.”

 

Winthrop rallies his robotic troops up and begins to head up the stairs with Lyn following closely behind. Underworld slips back into motion, world bustling once again, but we four remain paralyzed, exchanging expressions of doubtfulness as to if this is really what we should be doing. It wasn’t the best welcome, after all; Roy could return in an outrage due to our presence.

 

“Shy, shy children.” Winthrop chuckles down at us from the stop of the stairs. “Come on, don’t dilly dally. I don’t bite…if you didn’t already know that. Does food sound nice?”

 

Blinking a couple times, I give a slight shoulder shrug as I turn back to my friends. “Well, okay,” I announce to them. “I guess we’re in.” With silent glee and relief, we get up to speed.

 

“Good,” he nods. “I was thinking how unappetizing the food might have rubbed off on you folks, being here, but Tara is good at what she does. Hurry, hurry…”

 

Walking along the balcony of the renovated exhibit, on our left in the streets below are dozens of ghouls moving about, stores and merchants of all sorts visible under the opposite stairway. The items range from casual clothing to exotic, including glowing emerald fungi that I have never seen before. Festive lights that are sewn through the railings flicker in pattern; marvelous framed patriotic portraits grace the walls beside us on our right. The market is noisy like that of Rivet City, though blanketed by some kind of smoke, and suspended lines on the far end carry threaded merchandise, items flowing out in a mechanized, almost assembly-like fashion. Where does all that stuff come from, anyway? Winthrop continues leading us down the hall to a large, rectangular plaza on the opposite end, most distantly bounded by a wavy and rusty railing. He gestures his head in some invitation, and looking over the railing reveals something beyond our wildest dreams.

 

I gasp. “My God…what IS this…?”

 

“I’ll tell you one thing it ain’t,” Butch answers. “It ain’t Megaton. Or even Rivet City.”

 

Beyond the railing is a world far beneath the scene we initially presumed to be Underworld; a sudden drop off opens up to a large, multi-tiered chasm wrapped by circles of spiraling stone walkways and scrap metal buildings. This is an atrium. It really is huge, because human figures are mere flakes of dust or pebbles in size. Flaming torches illuminate the paths, and continual crisscrossed strings of bridges and colorful, hollowed lanterns span the pit – some lanterns spheroids, others cubes. From what I’ve experienced, they might be of Japanese origin. Gears grind on designated surfaces by crank, moving minerals and other resources across the gaps. But amidst all of this is an authentic, intact ceiling of the original Museum of History. It’s true: what we are seeing is literally one giant hole, whose true bottom rests some kind of a central stage; although greatly obscured by earthly gases, it is crude in appearance and composed of a square stone base with twin towering metal frames that extend to the roof. I wonder what kind of stage it could be. I can bet there are stands down there to sit in too, but perhaps I can’t see them because even for darkness, the newfound light now engulfing this infernal abyss is an honest challenge.

 

http://fallout3nexus.com/imageshare/images/2144141-1297411935.png

 

“How is this possible?” I gawk, my breath stolen by deference for that universe that lies below. I should have expected no less from the biggest ghoul settlement in D.C. – and possibly in the east coast in general.

 

“Always get a kick out of seeing those reactions,” Winthrop chuckles. “We get that impression from all the outsiders we let into the city,” he dismisses. “Things are slowly – woah!”

 

Sparks ablaze, a miniature, propeller-flying robot – not too different from those wandering Enclave Eyebots – violently whizzes by.

 

“Confound it!” He curses and leans over the edge of the cliff. “Control them, Mike! How many times do I have to tell you: they aren’t perfect yet! They’re only in the testing phases, so be careful! Sheesh…”

 

Saya gives a worried face in Lyn’s direction and lets out a small moan.

 

“It’s alright,” Lyn coos. “As Winthrop was saying, the technology here is really advancing. We are gradually starting to recover what humankind once lost because of the Great War. Soon, with all these robots and machines, Underworld could be manufacturing everything from guns to basic necessities.”

 

“No…it’s not that,” Saya shakes her head, averting all gazes. “All the buildings are on their sides and aren’t straight. And there are hardly railings or anything.” She begins to chew on her fingernail. “I’m scared of heights and–achoo!”

 

She sneezes, emitting a high-pitched yelp.

 

“It looks like your friend isn’t adapting too well to the conditions,” Winthrop tells me as I turn to him. “It must be the air over here. We aren’t going down there anyway – I personally don’t live down there myself. It’s primarily for the lower class and the industry,” he waves frivolously. “A wretched hive of scum and villainy, that’s what. The Ninth Circle is more like your folks kind of place; it’s a diner and bar here on the upper level. Tara will be there, too.”

 

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

 

I'll buy you a diamond ring my friend if it makes you feel alright

I'll get you anything my friend if it makes you feel alright

'Cause I don't care too much for money, money can't buy me love.

 

Music is playing through the smoky air. A rusty metal mug hits the table loudly, rattling the silverware as billiard balls clack under a small ceiling fan at the far end of the room. We now sit at an elongated wooden table filled with food from one end to the other, the table just big enough for all six of us. Saori quietly sits on the side most distant from me, slouching in her own rusty chair.

 

“Wow!” I exclaim. “So much food, all in once place. You guys do have the good stuff – your daughter Tara made all of this?”

 

Winthrop rests his elbow on the table. “I don’t kid – Drew, was it? Yeah. Go ahead and dig in; I ate a couple hours ago. Tara is going to be busy today, but all of the Wasteland cuisine is here, even that crap ant meat if that counts.”

 

“It’s not crap – I’d eat it!” Butch declares. He taps the table with his finger. “But I gotta agree with Drew: you guys got everything! Even radio – music for God’s sake! Don’t see that too often...or hear it…” His words trail off as he merrily begins to help himself to the feast.

 

“I like the music too,” Saya comments, now more cheerful. She clasps her hands together. “I love the Beatles!”

 

“As do I,” Winthrop responds optimistically. He returns his attention to me. “So, you all must be pretty skilled with a gun, I’d bet. Had an uncle who could pop a head from a mile away – blow that sucker’s head clean off his body. But anyhoo, what exactly is your business in Underworld? Sick of that Vault like little ol’ Lyn here?” He winks.

 

“We’ve been sick of it for a while, actually.” I cue Butch to pass me the dish of iguana tail. “I guess the suit was a dead giveaway. It’s been about a couple years since we got kicked out, and ever since then, it’s been all about survival.” Grabbing the passed plate, I slide some of the meat onto my own. “Same Vault as Lyn too. One-oh-one.”

 

He looks amused. “Now that’s interesting. Is that just coincidence, that by some fortunate chance you all ran across each other?”

 

I recall the conversation from the past night, so I’ll just regurgitate. “From what Lyn has told me, yes. Found each other at Rivet City. But beyond that, recently, we ‘ve had some close encounters with the Enclave after they-”

 

“The ENCLAVE!?” Winthrop hits the table with his craggy fist, also startling Saori, zapping her back to life. “You’re talking horsesh**. You say those pathetic, monotonous broadcasts by those floating hunks of garbage are real?”

 

He must be referring to the Eyebots. “They must be,” Lyn softly answers for me. “I found them – the Enclave – when I found Dad. All in the flesh. But…he’s passed. So has Dogmeat.” With her elbow on the table as well, in grief she lets her palm push her round cheeks up into her good eye.

 

“Oh…” Winthrop heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry to hear that. I was wondering where your animal friend went earlier...”

 

I don’t think Lyn needs any more reminders. “Well, getting back to your first question Winthrop,” I say waving a fork, “we’re really here because of that hunk of junk over there.” I point to the corner of the room where Butch had carefully settled the portable ion exchanger down before our dining.

 

“Important junk,” Lyn adds with seriousness, eyes shifted, bodily positions unchanged. “Very.”

 

“What is that thing?”

 

“An ionic exchanger.” She sits upright. “I need it to fix up something of Dad’s that he never finished. Right now, somewhere to put it before we go on to get some Stealth Boys would be helpful.”

 

I taste the food. It’s quite fantastic, though I suppose food is always better when you don’t have to get it yourself.

 

“Ah, I’ll leave you to your business then… but military tech, huh? Thought that exchanger of yours was like a weapon…or something…”

 

“Yeah, because we’d totally just carry that hefty thing around and wallop some unfortunate souls, right?” I joke. “But seriously, it just needs some temporary housing. When it comes time for assembly, Saori is pretty good with a wrench too. Isn’t that right?”

 

Winthrop and Lyn turn to face Saori on the far end in dismay; I too notice that unlike Butch and Saya, who both seem to be enjoying themselves heartily in their scrumptious sampling, her expression is still empty and lifeless. Her plate is also untouched.

 

“Must be the air,” I tell Winthrop, repeating his words. “I think we should finish up here and settle in for tonight.”

 

I’m such a liar.

 

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

 

We hole up in Carol’s Place for the evening after renting a room, and Winthrop goes back on duty. Lyn retires early for the day, Saori dozing on the furniture. Shortly after we move in, I sit down at a study desk in the corner of the room under a small gas lamp, all across from the bedsides, trying to figure out the message from the previous night about the Auprets – and me. I start writing what I remember on a burnt piece of paper with a lead pencil. The technicalities are hardly relevant at this point; why pick me, if the words are indeed true? What did the last log mean by, “I would feel no different than if I had never even considered that stone”? And the whole thing about until the water starts running?

 

Goddamn. I think I’ll take that shower that I was b****ing so much about earlier. I just can’t think.

 

Upon entering the hotel bathroom a floor down in the street area, it turns out everything is fairly sanitary…aside from all that lost hair and scabby skin flakes on the makeshift shower floor. I sweep it all into a corner. Locking the door to give myself some needed privacy, I take my sweet old time. Even cold water feels fine to me; it’s clean, and that’s what is important. And I should have known there would have been lots of shampoo left to use, because otherwise, on what, right?

 

I change into a ratty black tee-shirt and khaki pants. I also give myself that clean shave in front of the chipped mirror and sink, so I won’t be so annoyed all the time by that itchy feeling – at least until it grows back.

 

Refreshed and repacked, I step back outside into the streets of Underworld. Through the ghoul crowd emerge Butch and Saya, who are both now sporting some new informal attire. An olive green dress and a plaid shirt along with some jeans work well; they beat the suits, I suppose.

 

“Dude, you would not believe how much cool sh** these zombies have!” Butch says excitedly.

 

“Shh!” Saya warns. “Don’t say the ‘Z’ word. We just figured out they don’t like that.”

 

I raise an eyebrow to Butch and smirk. “Don’t get your tongue ripped off, man. Look, I’m going to head back for tonight, so don’t spend too many caps all in one place.”

 

“It’s ‘kay,” Butch says. “We’re going back too. They’ve got some neat stuff, but yeah, I’m getting sick of seeing all those damn green mushrooms, even if they are ‘delicacies’,” he mocks. “Some freak-face says they have ‘magic powers’ and can give a man a second chance, but f**k that.”

 

“Ha! Good call. Sounds preposterous to me. But…actually, let’s stroll around for a little bit. Take a detour.”

 

The three of us begin to wade through the crowds and vendors, marveling at all the exotic merchandise. Batting some of the low-hanging lanterns out of my face and evading the pestering beggars, I manage to spot some lovely but expensive looking china and even some large, monstrous guns and blades.

 

“You see this?” A vendor is calling out to some other mass of ghouls. “Yeah, that’s right; this ain’t no cheap imitation; this is the real demonic sword of Sparda! Bids start at a couple grand of caps…if you have the money!”

 

More voices can be heard from every which way as we pass through the area.

 

“Pardon; watch where you’re going, sir. Must you be so daft?”

 

“Please! Please, I have no money! Spare a cap? Anything? I beg of you!”

 

“What, you think you’re too good for this offer, smoothskin? Ignore me then! I bet you think you’re so damn good with those deep pockets of yours, huh?!”

 

“A fight broke out here over a silver wristwatch last night. A simple watch, for crying out loud! Where some people place their priorities these days…”

 

“The industry is a mess down there, but getting better. The workers don’t seem to be enjoying themselves very much, though. And they don’t think. Sometimes, I believe the machines run us.”

 

I reach the end of the street where the infirmary resides behind a designated door. There’s not so many people to fight through this time, but even in this more controlled chaos, I sense someone – another ghoul - is following me. He’s in a business suit and cap. I’ve seen this same character out of the corner of my eye far too many times, and he’s making sudden movements here and there. Saya and Butch still tag along earnestly in close company.

 

Still suspicious, I take a turn into the museum’s hallways, which are sharply banked and linear.

 

“Uhm, Drew? If you’ve forgotten, the room is the other way,” Saya says.

 

“I’m fine.” I must be the only one aware about this.

 

The dimly lit hallways are filled with torn wallpaper and paintings, and more importantly, are void of other people. We walk around the next corner, and still, I can see that ghoul, stalking us at a distance.

 

I turn to my friends. “Wait here,” I order. They acknowledge silently, but in slight confusion.

 

I know the hallway for this deserted exhibit loops back on itself somewhere. Keeping a steady pace, footsteps echoing, I find myself returning to our point of entry. However, I don’t leave; instead, I retrace my path going in the same direction.

 

Sure enough, I spot that same ghoul out of the corner of my eye. He’s fallen for my redundancy; he isfollowing me. I hide behind the next corner, awaiting his approach, anticipating it by ear.

 

He nears, his shadow slowly growing larger on the wall as he increases his distance from the entryway. Just as he pops into view, without a second thought, I grab his suit and forcefully pin him against the wall.

 

“Why are you following me!?” I yell at his disfigured face in disgust.

 

“Hey dude, what’s going on?” Butch’s voice radiates down the hall. Against my orders, the couple scampers into view from behind the corner. “Drew!” Saya shrieks, horrified. “Put that poor man down!”

 

The ghoul just laughs under his breath.

 

I slam him against the wall again. “Answer the question!”

 

“I’m sorry,” he says politely. “Truly. Heh, it’s just that you and I are so much alike.”

 

I squint at him. “What the h*** are you talking about.”

 

“I saw you, smoothskin. From the moment you stepped into our territory, I was watching you. I was watching you with Winthrop, and even now. I see myself before the disease.” He hacks.

 

“Go on…”

 

“You’re a leader,” he continues. “I was once young, avid, strong…all those things. A knowledge seeker. I can see it in you. It’s all of a past life, but there’s no harm in fantasizing about it. Live a dream, wouldn’t ya?”

 

I push the ghoul away and back off, still annoyed. “Why do you care so much? Don’t you have other things to care about?”

 

“I do,” he shrugs, voice calm and collected. “I have a family. I cared for a wife who has come and gone, and two fine young boys. Same, brutal Wasteland fate, except for one of the kids. We’ve settled down since then, and he’s in Underworld today. He’s growing up. And I care for the city: I fix the plumbing for a living.” He snickers in a low tone. “You want a résumé?”

 

I guess he gets off easy. “Very funny. I like my personal space, that’s all.”

 

“Well, I’ll leave you alone then, smoothskin.” Smiling, the ghoul tips his hat to me, and then proceeds to exit the room, bypassing my now bewildered friends. “I have other things to do, like caring for my kid and getting the damn water running. Tata.”

 

In that moment, I draw the most amazing conclusion, the ghoul’s concluding sentences of great power to me. It might be somewhat unrelated, the topic ingrained in my mind, but I think again of the data logs from back at Vault-Tec. Of course! I hadn’t seen the answer before because I never saw the two ideas laid out next to each other.

 

Could this encounter have been destiny?

 

Without my friends, I dash back to the room in mad excitement, dodging the crowds, the city now a blur. It makes sense: the person writing that final log has to be James himself! If Lyn is really correct about Project Purity being James’s work –the omnipotent water purifier- then that respective line is directly referring to it. And I can count on the notion that he was next to a genius. He could have been in Vault 101 at the time, explaining why I never knew about the note, and he was probably able to work with these...mental machines. These Auprets. And if that’s true, then “she”, my supposed counterpart, would be…

 

Lyn. His own daughter, who would be another stray, and who was abandoned for the sake of science.

 

Then that must make sense too! It possibly explains why she was acting odd back at Vault-Tec, and maybe even has a role in her dark past she let me peek into. Does this also have to deal with the few times I’ve heard her in my head? Maybe I wasn’t just a little crazy. And what about the déjà vu I was having? It was at Rivet City, and it was at Vault-Tec. The feeling went away when I had destroyed the last two samples at the latter.

 

Is this also what guided me to the Jefferson Memorial some time ago? And Vault-Tec! It’s the place where some of Project Purity’s parts come from, so James was probably there at some point in time. That would explain my – no, our conditions, Lyn and me.

 

I’m mind-blown, but confident in my logic. So many connections; is this all just mere coincidence? But it still doesn’t answer the “why”. What was James thinking? If anything, I can’t tell Lyn about this matter; how would she react, that emotional time bomb? Even if she’s “changed”.

 

Back at the room, I am ready to vigorously jot my thoughts down. I’m frantic, prepared to burn through some paper, but upon a familiar and saddening sight, life slows down, pulling back into first gear. A gloomy Saori stirs her finger in the mess of blankets and comforters, still in her Vault suit.

 

While the rest of us were exploring and wandering, she was here.

 

Other than me and her, we’re alone. I breathe in deeply and survey the room. In the stillness, I hear faint music from the outside lobby.

 

I think I'm gonna be sad

I think it's today, yeah

The girl who likes driving me mad

Is going away.

 

I think I owe an apology about now. I’m not stupid enough to not know when I screwed up.

 

“Hey, Saori.” I approach her at the wrinkled bedside and take her loose hand to guide her with me. “Come with me outside.”

 

“Huh? Ugh, Drew!” She gets to her feet and stumbles along behind me. “What are you doing?”

 

Opening the doorway and proceeding down the hall, I pull her gently into the connected open plaza to the hotel, where the melody plays from a nearby neon jukebox, the volume increasing as we near. Citizens of Underworld sway and dance to the music in the light of the surrounding fires.

 

She said that living with me

Was bringing her down yeah.

She would never be free

When I was around.

 

Grabbing Saori’s palms, matching our hands together, I face her with inches to spare and steer her thin arms through the air. I try to smile and be happy.

 

I’ve never danced before.

 

“Wha-?”

 

I hope to see at least a drip of happiness in her expression, but none comes. I see puzzlement, and then anger.

 

“No…no, stop!” Saori turns her head away and breaks my grasp. The music seems to drain away from my senses.

 

“What are you trying to do?” she questions.

 

I breath deeply and face the ground. “Look, I think I owe you an apology.”

 

She knows what I’m talking about. “And you do,” she says expectingly. Saori crosses her arms over her body. “I want to hear it.”

 

I make eye contact with her. “It isn’t my fault,” I say, straightforward.

 

“Not your fault?” she scoffs. “Now you’re just making sh** up.”

 

“No, I’m not. Well, okay, fine. It’s kinda my fault, but it’s kinda not. I haven’t been honest; I haven’t told you everything.”

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” she sneers. “I’ve heard enough.”

 

“Just listen to me!” I raise my voice. “I haven’t told you everything because I care enough. Back at-”

 

“Mr. Drew Izayoi, CARING?”

 

I give a deep sigh, glance away in thought, and then give Saori my undivided attention again.

 

“You wanna cookie?”

 

A pause. Weakly, she responds, an eye thin. “A what?”

 

Damn it all. I wrap my hands over her shoulders and push away; she backpedals into a wooden bench beside the wall and falls into a sitting position, my hands still glued to her.

 

“Saori Ikeda: would you LISTEN to me!?” I shake her briskly, both our eyes widening, though I try to remain calm. “I’m stressed, and I’m dead serious when I say this. Back at Vault-Tec, I found something else. Not just that stupid cylinder thing we are suddenly calling the ‘exchanger’ all the time. You directed Butch and me down that first hallway and I discovered this one of a kind computer chip; I discovered other stuff about James; I discovered myself. I have one of those chips. It’s literally in my head, it’s screwing with me, and apparently, I’ve always had it. That technology dictates me and controls me – that’s my identity. My life is a lie.”

 

It almost hurts to say it. I can see her internal struggle on her face, though baffled at the story, trying to agree with me, but it’s not working too well.

 

“No…but why? The coincidences...there’s so many. You seem like a normal person to me.” She sighs. “Oh Drew,” she utters dejectedly. “I’m not sure if I do love you anymore.”

 

“Well, that’s your choice,” I say. Surprised at my words, Saori gazes upward at me in hope. “But I’m willing to give it another, kinder go. Right now, I’m just asking that you hear me out and to just consider what’s going on with me. And I don’t lie. I want to put it in the past, girl. I screwed up. Haven’t a couple years been enough to foster just a smidgen of trust? What about the bomb, back at Megaton? I believed you could dig a grave for that thing, and you did.”

 

I’m not sure what she’s thinking now. Resting her elbows on her thighs and raising an eyebrow, she cups her chin with her hands and looks away towards the dancers.

 

“You rehearsed that, didn’t you?”

 

What a cynic. “Nope. I can explain more to you tomorrow morning. It’s getting late, but right now, the drama needs to end. Therefore…”

 

I grab her arm again and pull her up.

 

“…you do what I want to do. That means go over there with me and dance, shake your a** and whatever. Got it?”

 

A feeble chuckle. “I guess. But I don’t even know how to dance. You know that.”

 

“Well, too bad, ‘cause I don’t know how to either!”

 

“Ha, no,” she brushes off, finally with a small smile. “I’m still not going.”

 

“Then you leave me no choice.”

 

Without warning, I bend over and scoop her body up from behind. Although initially outraged, she laughs in merriment as I carry her to the center of the room. We blend in with the crowd as I set her down on two feet.

 

Ooh, I need your love, babe

Guess you know it's true

Hope you need my love, babe

Just like I need you

“Hehe. Did your books back in the Vault teach you that?” she says sarcastically, grinning.

 

“Maybe. Hey, I can do cool stuff too! Come on-”

 

I grasp Saori’s hands again, but I quickly turn to notice that despite the large number of people now in the area, only two are dancing, the majority surrounding them. A ghoul couple dances in the central area, others marveling at their finesse, ability and physical strength to support each other. They’re good – really good. H***, I think so, and I hardly know what the heck I should be doing.

 

I ain't got nothing but love, babe

Eight days a week

 

“You think before the war...or rather, before they changed…they were even more beautiful?” I whisper, dropping my hands.

 

Saori happily crosses her arms again. “I think they are fine just the way they are.”

 

“Uhh, that doesn’t exactly answer the question.”

 

I hear the male dancer speak to his partner.

 

“We’ve done this before. Just trust me.”

FORWARD ----->

Edited June 22, 2011 by AliasTheory

[AliasTheory]

Dedicated to Ithildin, a kind woman formerly right here on the Nexus, who with her expertise has helped me and others to understand and grow where otherwise unforeseen. Your stories, humor and intellect will be missed. Please come back someday!

 

I pumped this out in about six hours and I'm kinda lazy, so no chapter dividing or second image here. Those take kinda long.

 

There's probably an a**ton of spelling and grammar errors in there. When I type really fast, I tend to forget articles of speech. Skips past me entirely.

 

Also, if you do not catch the one obvious video game reference, you don't deserve to call yourself a gamer. lol. ONLY KIDDING. But it's about halfway through, I'd say. And the Beatles are awesome.

 

[EDIT]

 

Totally forgot. There is also a Star Wars reference.

Edited February 11, 2011 by AliasTheory

[Spaceritual]

That chapter really flowed by and it will be interesting to see what happens when Roy gets back . Your expanding of the Underworld was also a nice touch adding a sense of newness to an old location :)

[BlueDanube]

after 3 long week i was hoping for more interesting and exciting event but looks like nothing happen :( *little dissapointed* =P

but thanks for continuing the story ,i was to serious reading that i didn't notice any of the reference :rolleyes:

[AliasTheory]

@BD: I dunno, but I think there is plenty of room for thought. I wasn't about the spill all the beans at once (though some were) especially considering the timespan of the events. You can't expect guys to be finding a damn gold mine every chapter, so there's a different pacing and assorted bits of information here.

 

I'm guessing you already figured things out then, huh? That's what happens with a three week gap, I suppose.

Edited June 19, 2011 by AliasTheory