Orange Colored Sky

[tokyobiohazard]

Chapter I

 

The cracked pavement was hard and burning hot on my cheek. My eyes were heavy-lidded, my mouth was open, blood trickled from my nostrils, and sand viciously whipped at me from all sides. My goggles had gotten a thick web-like crack over each lens.

 

Through the stinging lashes of sand striking my skin, I felt a more intense burn around my ankles. My heartbeat quickened, and my eyes widened, opening fully as my survival instinct kicked in.

 

I heaved myself up from my belly onto my elbows, hyperventilating as I realized what was going on. They were tying my legs together.

 

"Be still, boy!" One of them yelled over the swirling waves of golden sand, crimson tunic making him stand out like a beacon in this sandstorm.

 

I reached for my voice, angered by these arrogant, violent men. I never really spoke much, unless I had something important to say. This situation was definitely one that required speech, however. "I'm not-"

 

A black-gloved hand clapped over my mouth, "Silence, grunt."

 

Wriggling, trying to break their hold on me, I screamed and bit the hand over my mouth as someone yanked my arms behind my back. The sharp burn returned as they tightened ropes around my wrists. I knew it. This was a slaving party. They would try to enlist me into their ranks, without a doubt. After all, I was young and stringy. Prime stock.

 

One of them jerked my head back, shoving a wadded-up red cloth inside my mouth. "Don't bother trying to spit it out." He laughed, and I felt him cut the strap of my goggles. They fell to the ground. His hand grasped at my hood, and I winced. If he found out what was under there, he'd kill me. Or, rather, he'd have to kill me, because some fates are worse than death.

 

Bang.

 

The Legionnaire slumped over, dead. Headless. Bloody.

 

Five more bangs, all in two seconds.

 

I groaned and spit the cloth out.

 

"The way these rats treat people, you'd think a homocidal robot gave birth to them. You okay, kiddo?"

 

Limply, I rolled over onto my back and squinted. Through the whirlwind of sand, the blurred shape of a man peering over some sort of rifle became visible as he walked toward me. A black bandana covered his mouth, and he had a paranoid look in his eyes, as if he feared I could have a hundred backup guys hiding nearby.

 

"Bleeding some," I muttered, feeling lightheaded.

 

His eyes widened as I sat up and my hood fell back. It wasn't that surprising, was it?

 

I felt a warm trickle run down my temple and realized my hair was damp.

 

"Jesus, hold still!" the man exclaimed. I panicked, my heart quickened, and my vision faded to black.

Edited August 2, 2012 by tokyobleach

[Flipout6]

Nice so far! lots of suspence, and mystery.

[BaldurAnthology]

This promises to be good. Keep it up! :dance: :dance: :dance: :dance: :dance: :dance:

[Keanumoreira]

Ohhh...interesting. Do write more. :dance:

[MikeRyan]

Yay for stories! :dance: keep posting kiddo this will be good!

[Maharg67]

Excellent! Looking forward to reading more!

[tokyobiohazard]

Thanks for all the positive feedback ^^ I'm workin on typing up some of what I have >.> I just need to figure out where to divide my chapters. Edited August 2, 2012 by tokyobleach

[tokyobiohazard]

Chapter II

 

"You awake, or am I gonna have to start banging pots and pans together?"

 

My eyes fluttered open, and I yawned. As I tried to stretch, I realized it. I was still tied up, lying on my side. He didn't trust me, but he still helped... Who was this good samaritan with a paranoid gaze?

 

I looked around. This shack we were in was tiny, only containing the bed I lay in, a set of lockers, and a stove. Aside from a few objects that looked like the man had only just unpacked them, that was it. This place must have been abandoned... But the man seemed to have known that.

 

"So, how's the head wound, blondie?" the man asked while seemingly looking at a pot of water boiling on the stovetop. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye, taking the last puff of a cigar before putting the stub out by rubbing it on a wall. He smiled a little, seeming self-satisfied at the grey smudge on the wall.

 

I swallowed dryly, "I..."

 

He turned to look at me, and I noticed something about him I hadn't when he was farther away, as I couldn't see things unless they were less than fifty feet away from me. He had one eye, or so it seemed, as he wore an eye patch. His bandana rested loosely on the collar of his dusty trenchcoat, and a rough beard covered his jaws and chin.

 

"Thank you..." I said, my voice barely audible.

 

The man snapped, and broke out in a wide smile, "I knew it. You're a girl, no wonder you freaked out so much. I heard that scream and thought Loki was scaring off some troublemakers. Of course, I worry about Loki when I don't hear growling, so I... Well, you know the rest." He looked down and pulled a pocket watch from a pouch at his side labeled Mojave Express. Clipping it shut, he dropped it back inside the bag. "The sandstorm is still raging, so may as well get comfy. Kick your feet up and get used to your new hairdo."

 

"New...?" I mumbled, then tried to raise a hand to my scalp, only to remember I was still tied.

 

"Oh, right. I'm gonna play it safe here and keep you tied up. Don't take it personally, but I don't trust strangers, no matter what they may look like."

 

"I'm..." I tripped over my words and smiled wryly. "I'm not a threat. Or a talker."

 

"Let's get better acquainted, then. Not like we'll be going anywhere in this weather, right?"

 

I jumped at the sound of scratching at the door, my breathing quickening.

 

"Whoa, now. Calm down. Just Loki wanting inside." He walked to the door and pulled it open, letting a large grey dog with a thin, but long coat inside. It shook itself off from nose to tail, sending amber sand flying in all directions.

 

The man coughed and waved an arm, trying to clear the swirling dust motes from the air. "You been using your wolf nose to sniff out rats? Try not to drag half the Mojave in with you next time."

 

My eyes widened. Not a dog, but a wolf. That interested me, since wolves themselves were pretty rare around here. Most of the wolves were far north of here, which showed this man had traveled very far.

 

Suddenly, his voice interrupted my thoughts. "Things I know about you: You have pure white hair, even down to your eyelashes. Your eyes are red. Your skin is badly sunburned. From this, I gather you have the uncommon condition called albinism, right?"

 

I nodded and gulped.

 

"Neat." He nodded in return, and continued, "You seem very young, and are a girl, though, and don't take it the wrong way, your looks could have fooled me. You travel alone. That is dangerous, blondie. Yeah, those Legion are the least of your worries. At least when they rape you, they do it while calling you their wife. Raiders, junkies, regular A-holes, they do it and let their buddies have a turn before leaving you to die."

 

"I know. It's why I like that I can pass for a boy..."

 

"And that's where the Legion came in, huh?" He pulled a knife out of his pocket and started cleaning under his nails. "You were able to avoid capture for a while before this, though. What's your secret?"

 

I smiled, "I'm fast and know how to hide... But I have slight hearing loss and can't see anything past fifty feet." Maybe I'd said too much.

 

The man raised his only visible eyebrow. "Explains a lot... Let me introduce myself. Morgan Hollister, though lately they call me Courier Six."

 

"You're the one with the chip..."

 

"Yep, that's me..." he looked at me, paranoid glare returning, "but how did you know about the chip?"

 

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, "I'm Francoise East... But I'll break your nose if you call me that." My voice trembled as I said that, and even cracked in places. This sort of thing made me nervous to talk about. "Call me Fanny."

 

"Isn't that a silly outdated nickname?" Morgan said, lighting a cigar, "And you avoided the question." His paranoid, one-eyed gaze intensely bored into my own eyes.

 

"Nothing's outdated at The Tops, baby," I mumbled, smiling warily, "My daddy gave the nickname to me. Fanny, daddy Benny's little porcelain doll..."

 

"Well, this is awkward..." Morgan muttered, taking a deep drag on his cigar and looking the other way.

Edited August 2, 2012 by tokyobleach

[Keanumoreira]

Excellent! And I love the connection to New Vegas' story line here. I'm interested to hear how our mysterious friend will break the news to our protagonist. Keep it up, it's looking good. :thumbsup:

[Flipout6]

nice! can't wait for more.