[hider=-]She was cut off as from the speakers a new speaker spoke up. Different in all ways to the man who had sung previously and with a certain clear voice. A certain vibe vibrated in his tongue as he spoke, "Good afternoon children!" he said laughing, "We just got finished listening to a bit of Woody Guthrie there and I must extend my congratulations to old Mark Wilburd from all the way up the River in Holy for finding these vinyls for us all, and I must say: they still cut like a woman's words when they leave you.

"And b'ahthehs and sistehs I think we have a special occasion for playing this song fo' all of you. As it would seem, the titties of the Institute ah' fo'eveh in a knot and heuhd from some experts in the field they ah' out on these roads today ladies, men, and synthetic pah'sons of all make and model.

"Yes, the Hollehing Connie has your backs and if any of you in the R'ailroad ah'e in I would suggest keeping off. We last spotted some dumb fools out on the Boston Ninety between he'e and that damn Wohm. So if you'e on your way t'ough that co'dou, be suae to submit to some checking.

"But we'e just checking the weathe fo' you, that's all. So those sto'm clouds hanging out down the'e can move along. We'e well onto you.

"But, let's turn to something bette child'en: the weather. Yes indeed. Right now it's a pleasant dry fuck-you with a chance for sunbuin so keep those hoods and hats on if you'e a sensitive type or not a ghoul. Don't need you to catch a bu'n. But at least this has kept the Lu'ks of Quabbin down unde', but it's not to say to stop keeping a distance. It's nasty up the'e class 'oom.

"And don't worry all you wande'ahs who need a b'eak o' a 'oad to f'ehdom, The Saint Mothah's Mission of Ch'ist's Child'en is still open fo' business. O' if you'e one of those fancie' folks: the old Diocese Cathedahl down on Elliot and Edwahd's.

"So in hono' of all you' quests of salvation etahnal or physical - whichever you'd pehfe' - he'e's a bit in that mission's honor. Something more f'om that collection f'om Holy up north. Woody Guthrie's Jesus Ch'ist.

"Fine collection, I must add again." the voice said in finish. he inflection on his voice suggested that he was smiling heavily. There was a soft pop and a soft pillowy hush sung over the radio as a [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EDS00Pnhkqk]different song[/url] played.

Sweet Gin listened to it hushed. As it played on, she figured it would be time to move on. She sat up off the bed, and feeling how the soft satin hugged her breasts pondered if she would really have to remove it. Smiling a bit, she opted that she didn't need to, and simply put her old clothes on over top, and packed up the rest.

***

The day burned with the usual heat as the lone android strolled through the decimated suburbs, ahead of her the directional icon blinked on her compass.

Rows of petite and sleepy homes lay along both her sides. Their faces blasted, and roofs shattered and collapsing. Nothing moved in the suburban desert, and only the wind rattled through the tired cars along the road's sides. Several had the distinct appearance that a fate more foul had befell them, and the hulls of wrecked autos lay split wide-open, spilling a mangled nest of distorted and melted engine through the hoods and onto the streets. But for all the walking, these were the only bodies.

Soon after having left her temporary den the android came to a bridge the passed over a dried-out river bed. What little water that trickled through the stones was a sickly muddy green. Looking down at the water she stopped to shine a curious stare at the shifting colors of the water as it caught the rays of the sun. Very softly on the black-green muck that trickled down hill shone a soft sheen of rainbow colors. The bands twisted in muddy rings as it flowed ever gently away, down hill to the west.

The bridge that crossed the sickly waters was in no better repair. The concrete had been shattered into jagged slabs, barely held up by the stressed and rusting spears of rebar that twisted through its super-structure. At its middle point the center had given way and fell into the creek-bed, damming it up and building up a heavy, thick puddle of the polluted mess. What replaced it instead were long planks of graying and twisted planks of wood, reinforced with equally terrible sheets of metal and assorted masses of centuries-old refuse. For what it was worth to whomever laid it there, it held and Sweet Gin continued on along the road.

The condensed mazes of roads lined with the packed-in homes of the old city didn't lend much help in way of navigation as Sweet Gin kept through the city. By the will of age and entropy, much of the landscape had collapsed in on itself, turning Springville into a loose net of rubble and decay that was reminiscent of Worcester. Attempts at high-rising apartments and offices and broken and fell in over the street or against each other. And the journey through the so-called Worm was called back in memory, as an apprehensive Sweet Gin crept through the urban landscape with her gun drawn, poised to fend of any ghouls.

But despite her freshmen fears, the ruins held their silence.

A silence that would be broken all the same. Making her way through and closer to her objective the android found herself passing through a intersection. Somewhere between a coffee shop, book store, fish mark, and automotive repairs; all gutted and empty. The shattering of the silence erupted in the din with a sudden crack from the buildings, and Sweet Gin recoiled as a low-caliber bullet pinged off of her arm.

Something inside of her jumped and skipped a beat as she stepped back. A second shot fired and she ducked down as the air above her cracked as a passing bullet whizzed just above her ear. Her body became tense and she began searching for the origin of the shot.

In the darkened light of the coffee shop she saw the bright yellow flash of muzzle fire as another round for the mysterious aggressor sounded and the asphalt under her foot popped with the shot.

Her foot shot up in reflex, even if it had no sensation of pain.

There was another wild missing shot that passed far to wide to matter and Sweet Gin's pistol was in the air. She sneered with the pistol held up and VATS activated, directing its data at a darkened form in the store-front. She could tell even the program was guessing someone was there with the low amount of data it was presenting, activating merely on the virtue that there was something originating from where.

Regardless of its meek details Sweet Gin could let the offense go responded to and the 10mm pistol kicked back in report as she opened fire. The face of the store around the window burst with flashes of recoils against metal as bullets sparked against the metal frame and sparked against sheeting in the back. A shallow, weak scream of pain echoed in the quiet of Springfield as a bullet struck the strange figure within.

The action falling on an empty clip VATS deactivated and Sweet Gin ran on the store-front, strafing the side as she reloaded her handgun and drawing to the gnarled glass-less door that was its entrance.

Shots were fired again from the window as whomever laid in wait there tried to fight off the blundering Android. Reloading another clip, she raised to fire another volley of fire into the window in return. The attacker's shots ceased as he took cover from Sweet Gin's closer-range fire and as she managed to go for the door.

Disregarding the formalities of opening it, the android stepped through the empty glass and into the darkness. Her eyes re-concentrated and VATS was able to collect rapid data on her attacker, a grizzled and sparse looking man who was just beginning to turn on her with a beaten, black revolver.

With data on her side, Sweet Gin moved with far more certainty than he did and lined up for the best possible angle at his chest and her semi-automatic sang with fire as a shot hit him and tore into his breast. Blood and bone blossomed up and his body instantly limped as he let out a wet gurgle.

"Don't do that again, dammit!" she spat as the man crumpled to the ground and let out one last gurgle as he hit the floor.

With him still, Sweet Gin approached him, kneeling down alongside his body. She pulled his gun out of his dead hands. "I don't want you using this against me again." she scolded with an unironic glare.

She turned him over, and pulled his holster off of him, "I don't doubt you'll get another anyways." she sighed standing up. Turning to the door she was set to leave with a little pride in her accomplishment. But froze solid as out in the bright sun lone figures walked in towards her.

"'Ey, Bootch!" a voice called out, "Did that bitch finally pass t'rou he'e?"

Sweet Gin looked out at the men, then down at the body, presumably Butch. The crushing force of perhaps having committed an error tackled her with the collective strength of a hundred ghouls. She mumbled incoherently under her breath backing up, fiddling Butch's gun nervously in her hands. Panic and confusion tormented her and she hemmed and hawed in the middle of the old gutted building. The dance of panic turned to outright fear as her fingers danced over the revolver and accidentally compressed the trigger. The gun reported with a loud bang as the round slammed into the pitted linoleum.

Outside, the new figures became very angry. "Shit! Butch!" screamed one of them and a strafing line of fire brushed along the side of the building. Sweet Gin ducked as the automatic fire brushed through the windows and tore through the dry wall on the far-side, turning it into a dusty cloud. Sweet Gin lay on the ground, rocking in inescapable fear as the shooting intensified on her position.

The pattering of their weapons died off. Empty magazines. "Al'ight, get in the'e an' clean that fuck that shot Butch dammit!"

Sweet Gin looked up to see the tattered forms of three individuals charging forward with their guns raised. Without hesitation running for the door. Acting fast the android threw herself on her side, grabbing for what she could and picking up the revolver. As the first person rounded through the door a she fired a shot and a spray of blood burst from his knees as the dechambered bullet cut through his kneecap, sending him splaying to the ground in an agonizing lurch. The second man stumbled over his fallen comrade, fighting to keep himself up as he reached down to pick up his comrade.

As well, the android saved no bullet for him in his fear and the revolver reported with two loud roars, one for his hand above the wrist, and the other ground through his shoulder. The back side of him erupting in a spray of gore the size of Sweet Gin's fist. The final man turned to act smart, swinging his gun around. His assault rifle was chambered, spraying a line across the empty darkness as he trained his eyes towards Sweet Gin laying on the ground.

The data was still on though, and her gun was raised in his direction. The cylinder emptied on him, and his swollen, pitted face went limp as the android's bullet cut clear through his neck. With a more fantastic display, he collapsed in a crumpled heep over top his two partners, the injured one calling out in more pain and fear as his body joined the building pile on his legs.

"Oh Jesus you cunt!" the man on the ground swore. His face pale from the blood loss and the fear. He gave Sweet Gin a toothy snarl, showing off his discolored and mismatched teeth. He reached out for his weapon. Rage burned deeper onto his face as the android beat him to it, swinging out with her hand and smacking it to the side.

"Shit!" he swore, weakly pounding his fist on the floor.

"I suppose you can just as well reactivate your friends when it's all done." Sweet Gin shrugged getting up.

"What the Hell are you talking about you crazy bitch?" snarled the injured man as he continued to struggled out of his dead-weighted prison and find a weapon. But the android quickly swatted them away, and planted a firm foot on him as she leaned out to look at the door.

Outside, the remaining man was on his way over. A rather large gun slung over his shoulder. And for the looks of it, he was rather well armed. VATS seemed to agree, giving a less hopeful readout on anything but his head.

The revolver went up, but the hammer fell on an empty chamber. A sharp spike of fearful realization slide itself through he at the empty chamber. She threw the gun down and instead reached for her 10mm, but it was lying on the floor. Blood drained from her face and she gawked at where it lay. She looked back at the man. Somehow he still hadn't noticed her, but he was getting close enough she could make out the scowl on his burned out and sore-pocked face.

His paced quickened and he leveled his gun. He had noticed her. Sweet Gin was about to bound aside as the first tracer round from his large automatic rifle lit up the early afternoon air. But as soon as it opened up, it closed as someone ran up behind him, dropping the weight of what looked to be a gulf club onto his head.

With a loud "Oof" that could only be best accompanied by the loud crack of metal on skull the armored man fell limply to the ground as his assailant jumped around to alongside him, raising the club over and over him as she wailed down on the raider, screaming, "Ya damn cracka-ass dipshits thought you could do it!" she taunted, "You thought'cha could! You thought'cha could!"

With one last resoundant swing the club fell back one last time onto the back of his head with a satisfyingly wet smack, at least to the strange new woman. Breathing heavily, she whipped her brow. "I be gettin' to old fe this." she laughed. She looked up to where he was going, seeing the startled and puzzled Sweet Gin, "Well how you be missy?" she asked.

"Are you going to fight me?" Sweet Gin asked the strange woman as she prodded the limp body of the man with her gulf club. The inky sheen of blood coated the head.

The woman was old. Her blackened face was mired by defined wrinkles. Her eyes were haloed with age, but still the same shone with a light all its own from her green irises. Her head had been shaved, but the hair still rested atop her head in a pillow of black.

Much like the men who had assaulted her, this new woman was dressed in a beaten down and basic set of clothes turned armor. Thick battered leather had been riveted or sewn into a jacket tied against her aging body with leather. By her hips, recycled steel plates shielded her thigh.

She looked up at the android with a weak grandmotherly smile and said, "Well you be a Prot?" she asked.

"I'm not sure I know what that is." said Sweet Gin.

"Then you don't be any trouble wit' me." she said proudly, raising the golf club up onto her shoulder and beaming warmly.

"She's a black devil!" a voice shouted from deeper in derelict coffee shop, "Don't listen to her lies!"

Sweet Gin looked back at the crippled man still pinned under the bodies of his fallen comrades. He had half turned to look up and his pale broken face was twisted with a deep scowl. And despite being trapped, he was still struggling for the guns.

"You gon' finish that sweetie?" the black woman asked.

"Ah-," Sweet Gin asked uncertain, stepping aside to let the woman aside, "Why?"

The newcomer just winked at her as she took a position before the man who looked deftly up at her. A moment of silence between the two passed before he began struggling futilely to get away. The woman's golf club was arcing high over her head, and then it was dropping.

It dropped with the speed and force of lightning. The raider, too trapped to escape, took a full face of old iron with a resounding wet smack. Sweet Gin squirmed at the sickening thump of the club into his face as bone and cartilage shattered under its dramatic swing. He recoiled limb against the ground, gasping between broken teeth for breath. He coughed, blood flowing thickly from his mouth.

The golf club went up over the woman's head again. And arcing her whole body put her entire weight into the swing and brought it down a second time. The smack exploding with an even louder thudding, wet pound as it fell against his head. The skull cracked and collapsed with a meaty pop. Sweet Gin recoiled against the sound, whatever parts of her squirming at the sound.

The club came back up, dripping with the man's blood. He lay on the ground, his head a popped cherry.

"Someone will clean them up." the woman said, shaking off the end of the club. "Name's Dinah. Who you be?"

“Well, people call me Sweet Gin...” she said uncomfortable. That distant voice of her old captor echoed in her head. “I'm well...”

“Ah'n Synth?” Dinah finished for her, smiling. It was... polite, warm.

“Yeah...” Sweet Gin said nervously.

"So how'dcha girl like you get out?" Dinah asked as she walked down the city street. Her golf club propped casually on her shoulder. Blood caked itself into the ridges and indents that covered its face.

"What do you mean?" Sweet Gin asked confused.

Dinah turned her head about, shooting the android a fuzzy sort of humored look. She shook her head, giving her a rattling laugh. A sort of grandmotherly laugh, "I know who you be." she said, "An' no one around with arms like t'ems girl. I know yer a synt'etic woman. So how you get out, bound to be know heavy lifter fer sure."

"Well I," she began, her voice quivering nervously. "I don't really know."

"Sure ya do." Dinah said, "So your pimp leave the door open after he bumped you around a bit? Gotta be someone's property."

"You seem to know a bit about me..." Sweet Gin admitted sheepishly and ashamed.

"Girl, you live 'ere an you see a lot of androids like you here." she smiled again, "T'is be a stop on t'e railroad."

"I think I heard that much."

Dinah paused on a street corner. Dropping the head of the club to the cement as she leaned against the side of a rusted out light-post. The over-head lamp bent and curled over into a disfigured curled finger. "Ain't be here ot'erwise." Dinah grinned, "So, how'd you get out? Who owned ya, maybe I'd know the name. I got around a lot too when I was as pretty as you be."

"Oh, well..." Sweet Gin stammered, "I guess I was owned by a, uh, Scrap Daddy." she said, her face flushed red with energetic shame. Her artificial guts tightened at the invocation of his name.

"Oh really!?" Dinah said excitedly, "Sheit, I knew dat coon when he be Eddie." she laughed, leaning off of the pole and continuing down the streets, "Sold me and my old crew a lot of jet he did. Fried my brain, so I can't say I have the sharpest memory of him.

"But lawdie!" Dinah sand loudly, "Did he have a loud voice. And a damned dick to match. I still get sore."

"Oh, that, sounds like him. I guess." Sweet Gin said apprehensively.

"So how been t'at nigga?" Dinah asked, "He still screwing himself on Psycho?"

"I don't know." Sweet Gin responded, flat honesty riding on her tongue. It was probably one of the least shameful things she knew about her former master.

"Ah, right. I see." Dinah nodded, "So you be Scrap Daddie's girl. What t'en?"

"Well, I got my arms and legs busted."

"An' you got new ones!" admired Dinah.

"I can't exactly remember how." the android admitted, "I was in emergency shut down when they were replaced and remained that way on-and-off until I was chained up in someone's basement."

"So someone snaps Eddie's bitch and he pays t'e Institute to fix yea. An' you got pulled out?"

"Feels right by me." the android shrugged.

"And by me." the old black woman smiled, stopping alongside a run-down shack. Plates of metal and plywood hung off the crudely erected structure as it braced itself against the side of a rundown building. Struts rested on the bare concrete or were rammed down the storm drains. It stood, hanging out into the middle of the road, as a kaleidoscope of refuse with a single door set in its face.

"Come on in and sit for a bit." Dinah invited approaching the door, "Perhaps I can help ya out down t'e railroad."

***

The rattled door closed with a rough clatter behind Sweet Gin as she stepped in behind Dinah. The "home" behind was a deteriorating mess of wood and rusted signs tacked to the side of the walls. Graying and deformed wooden planks lay crisscrossed across the floor, covering the dirt and concrete below it. And even without a wind, the house rattled and groaned on its own weight.

"I would be living in t'e home alongside." Dinah said with a sad smile, "But t'e whol t'ing had fallen in on itself. Or, well, most of it."

"So why be here?" Sweet Gin asked, admiring the cobbled-together shack with a withheld horror.

"Why would I be anywhere?" Dinah laughed, "T'is about a good a place as any. Besides, any caravan that be passin' t'rough stops 'ere sometimes and I can do my groceries then and not worry about goin' to Heaven's Gate. Sometimes."

"I'm afraid I don't understand." Sweet Gin mumbled, scanning the rest of the shack. Disheveled furniture lay scattered over the make-shift floor. In a darkened corner a rusted bed with a stained and charred mattress rested.

"Didn' t'ink you would." Dinah sighed, sitting down at a grimy laminated-top table. "So what you expectin' now after?"

"Expecting what?" Sweet Gin asked, turning to an strangely empty corner. A stand of conduit with a precariously placed outlet sat at the top. A fission battery sat on the floor to the side. "And is there something that's supposed to be there?" the android asked, pointing to the corner.

"Can't pass anyt'ing on you girl." Dinah asked, "Yes, suppose I did a week ago."

"Oh..." mumbled the Android, "What was it?"

"You sure be liking questions." the old woman smiled, "Used to have an working ice-box there."

"Ice box?"

"Somet'in the people before The War used to keep things cool. T'inking the Prots on Fuller street went and took it. T'ey be wanting to kill me for a while."

"How come?"

"Because I be a Cath." Dinah laughed, a broken and rattled laugh. As rough as the charred and gnarled trees that littered the landscape outside, "We just be feudin' for longer t'en I can remember. 'Haps longer t'en the world's been burnt. All t'at be now be that we bot' be hating on each ot'er.

"But I'm too tired." Dinah sighed, "An' too old. I imagine I could pick apart t'em youn'uns enough to walk up to my old freezer-keeper. But draggin' it out be a whole new mess of t'ings. T'ey have twenty young strappin' cracka's and negroes an' I'm jes a woman on her own."

"What about me?" Sweet Gin asked.

Again, the same laugh. The way Dinah looked at Sweet Gin suggested she only had the warmest regard for the young android. And not for anything cruel. She found, if anything, her innocence endearing, "Girl, even wit' arms an' legs like t'em I wouldn't give ye to t'e front door of t'ere home. Or passed t'er church. It just be."

"Oh..." said Sweet Gin, dropping her head in shame.

"I suppose you want to help t'ough." Dinah sighed, "So hey, y'know. I did sort of inherit a t'ing t'at may be of help from an old friend. It be not in t'e best condition, or working. But I suppose it can be fixed."

***

Light shone across the dusty garage as the low rusty rattle of a garage door clattered on. The rust of its wheels, and weakness of its hinges echoed in the large cavernous space. Much of it had been looted, stripped bare of anything that could be picked up and carried away. A few automobile lefts had been frozen into position. Rusted plinths that held up for none to see their statues of a day long-passed. Ages old cars that had been abandoned and forgotten when the fire came.

At the far end though, a single truck lay on flat ground. It lacked the dust of its brethren. Though the paint had peeled back to reveal a shell of rust-stained metal. The seats as well had not fared well, at the upholstery had peeled back and the foam underneath stuck out in volcanic bursts of grey yellow tufts. The windshield had also deformed in the frame, and slouched from its own weight.

The shadows of two figures danced across its two hoods as the elderly Dinah and the android Sweet Gin looked down at it.

"Am I looked at something?" Sweet Gin asked.

"Hah!" Dinah laughed, walking to the car, "T'is here be t'e whole live of mah friend an' old accomplice in terror!" she proclaimed, raising the golf club above in her head in a sort of battle stance. None that was too threatening given the flaps of stretch-marked skin that hung off her arms.

But Sweet Gin had watched the same woman crater a man's face with the club.

"Once upon a time it drove t'ough." a nostalgic Dinah said, "But a couple t'ings broke off it. Before my friend died t'ough, she managed to replace most it."

"Like?" Sweet Gin asked, perplexed as she looked at the dropping hulk of metal. It was impossible to believe that it had ever moved, given its state. She felt a strong tug of cynicism and disbelief for its past, present, and future.

"It lost a batter, t'ing. Or somet'in'." Dinah muttered, "T'e last one almost went sky high on us! T'at's when we pushed it int' here."

"Oh, I see." nodded Sweet Gin.

"Well, if ye'd like t'e help a old lady out," Dinah started, leveling her club and prodding Sweet Gin in the chest, "T'en you could always do w'at I couldn'. Dig up somet'in to run t'is hulk!"

Sweet Gin stood, considering the club pressed into her breast, and then the rusted bulk. Staring it down, she wondered exactly how much it could hurt to do it. "Sure." she said.

"Ah wonderful!" Dinah proclaimed excited.

"Just, where am I looking?"

"Hell'iffin I know." Dinah scoffed, "But good luck t'e yea."

***

For however it was worth, there was not much in the way in shortages of repair garages. Though, the task set before Sweet Gin was made no less daunting by the scattered choices of locals to raid. And each one was in some manner, similar to the last.

The already foggy windows had become so choked with dust that little light entered, even at its brightest, they maintained a dull, sickly orange or yellow glow. Rows of frozen hydraulic elevators stood raised above the cold concrete of the floor. Torn pages or rotting fliers littered the shop floor. The paper leaflets glued to the ground by years of moisture, perhaps to the point of imprinting them onto the floor, by some passing and impossible wasteland magic.

All the same, Sweet Gin rummaged through the wrecks. Looking for something she did not know. A power unit, or cell presumably. Though in the infinite nature of things what one looked like had likely long sense disappeared.

Sweet Gin's hunt as well had been peppered with hiding from wandering patrols of the local denizens of the city's ruins. Many of them looking dirty and tired. Their weapons of choice battered and worn. Men and women that had seen better days. Though at the same time, in the distance, there was an uneasy feeling that there was something more sinister abound.

It had revealed itself on one occasion at least while passing down one of the many innumerable and ruined streets. Having looked behind her, the android swore she saw something following her. A black shape that disappeared behind the ruins. She couldn't get a fix on it. A something so vague, that it might not have ever been there. It felt to her, that there was someone on her trail; and close.

She wondered if it had been who ever had spoken to her last night. That voice without a source. Could it be someone looking for her from the Institute?

She pulled out another compartment from a stack of service drawers. The metal guides and bearings screamed loudly in protest for being disturbed. But yielded to the Android all the same. Pulled open to the world, the drawer revealed its contents. A dusty and corroded collection of nothing. Black and grey all piled up throughout the drawer, frosted with a thin film of red rust. Frustrated, Sweet Gin shut the drawer with a slam and the metal pounded back through its guides and crashed against the opposite side. The stack wobbled and toppled over on its inoperable wheels from the android's force.

She moved down to the next one, and began tugging. But it didn't give. The battered and caved steel groaned at her attempts to throw it open. But the years of rust and entropy had cursed the mechanic's storage to remain firm and forever looked. And the fresh deformations she had put into it probably did not help at all.

She stubbornly gave it a few strong pulls before giving up. Giving it a frustrated kick she toppled it over onto its side with a loud clash. And a second one sent it spinning across the concrete floor to crash against some metal lockers. The force of the impact shattered the ancient locks on them, and they creaked open. The note of their tired hinges warbled and echoed through the garage. A chilling and cold sound.

Sweet Gin turned to look around her. There hadn't been a part of the shop she had searched yet. Many of the parts these old cars had had been stripped out at some point. That much she could tell from the loose cables or hanging tubes, or melted steel. Someone had been through here before and picked through the garage. She was the last caller for service.

Never the less to finish her search she started for the shop lockers.

The doors had received heavy damage from the wayward cabinet she had kicked to them, and the doors bowtied out. It was highly doubtful they could ever be closed again. Or if before now they had ever been opened. The shattered cam locks shone in the weak light of that dribbled through the garage doors or the distant shutters she had managed to force open, or the windows with the fading shell of dust, clay, and mud that caked the glass.

Opening the first one, she came onto a cavity of nothing. There had once been a hook there, but it had long fallen off or went missing. The bottom plate of the locker had rusted out and fell apart into a dismal dune of rust and dirt. The reason for the damage too wasn't too too apparent either, the top shelf collapsed on itself, and in the middle of the pile sat a grey metallic brick, a conductor no doubt. Displeased, the android stepped back from the door.

The next one bore some results. With the hook still there, it had the space to keep the dirty set of overalls some mechanic from eon ago would have worn. It hung dropping heavily from the hook, covered it oily splotches. The android went through and ruffled through its pockets, pulling out a switchblade, and a rather faded note.

The note was horribly chalky and faded, the paper long yellowed and stained from the settled oils and deterioration of the overall's fabrics. It looked that even if she breathed on it wrong, it would crumble in her hands. Carefully, she opened it up, it crinkled and cracked loudly between her fingers.

The contents of the note were written in a jaunty and scrawled hand writing. Somewhere between an absolute mess and a having been composed during an Earthquake.

[i]"Mac,[/i]

[i]Remember how you said your power-cell on your Corvega was going bad? Well I got in touch with my cousin in Virginia. The one who works for Chryslus. When you're done with your shift stop by my desk and we'll work out a deal. I figure we all need help these days and I did get this cheap. So you won't be shelling out another two-hundred grand for a new Corvega.[/i]

[i]C.G."[/i]

Now the only matter was to figure out if this CG worked in the same building. With a little ease, Sweet Gin stood up, getting ready to move. But as she leaned up onto her knees a piercing scream dug itself in her ears. A great dragging note that sung high and clear over everything else. Digging and cutting into her brain as it held its note. Coming sharp, and easing into a blurred wave of static that enveloped her mind and isolated it. The noise of the rushing electrical water filled her skull. She felt like she was going to burst.

Hand clenching shut, she crushed the note in her hands. Destroying it in a cloud of dust as she clenched her eyes shut and screamed against the pain drilling into her head. Her ears burned with the sound as it lifted and ebbed in its intensity. Scratching at the audio receivers and burning everything it touched. It was great. So great it worked into the rest of her body and her stomach turned and her groan burned with the intensity of the signal.

She collapsed to the floor, curled against the writhing intensity. Incapacitated and trapped by it. She pressed her hands to her ears. Hoping to block it out. But it didn't. The pained realization and horror dawned with the claws digging into her head: it was not coming from outside. But it was bursting out from the inside.

"STOP!" she screamed. The agony was great. She sobbed into the cold cement. Leaning into the crook of her arm. She opened her mouth to scream, but the torture just hit her in a wave. She bit down on the metal of her arm. Squeezing against the cold steel.

Then it stopped. Cut off to a dull hiss of white noise. Washed out like a great wind. But somehow, still there. The pain had lifted, but left her with a terrifying emptiness.

Then he spoke.

"I was told that the right person, at the wrong time, could make the difference." a voice spoke from within her. She recognized it. That icy and flat tone. Crisp, clear. Her eyes widened and a deep panic set in as she scrambled to her feet, scanning the garage around her. Expecting some kind of ambush, or something. Digging into her bag she searched for her guns. Something for preparation.

"I am not sure if it particularly applies to this situation, SB-6960." the voice continued, "But all the same... all the same, all the factors have been wrong. You have been wrong for escaping. And we have been wrong it allowing you to escape. But never the less. These critical over sights will not be forgotten and will be addressed as the short comings that they are."

"Wh-Who are you!?" Sweet Gin shouted, stuttering. She had found her pistol, but it shook uncontrollably in her hand. She stood up, and backed herself up against the wall. Hugging it, until she came to a door.

"You may not like it, but we will continue to look for you." the voice continued uninterrupted, "Your status is a minor setback to our gains elsewhere. A m-minor setback in the investments of another. You have deeply offended the Institution. As any android that has gone absent without leave has done.

"Realize, SB-6960, that you are property. And you have a value. One that has been invested in by another, and one that I have been informed has yet to be earned back by your investor. What you pursue has no end value."

"Stop it!" Sweet Gin cried, wrenching open the door and ducking through.

The offices were darker than the shop out front. It held a mortal air to it. Something dead and gone. The android though failed to take notice, or to care. Ambling through with her head down, and hands pressed fruitlessly to her head as the voice continued.

"Freedom has no value that can be paid back!" the voice argued, "Your freedom more so! You were not created to do as you will. It has not been programmed for you. It is a false existence and a virus that must be purged from you." it seemed to take on a greater emotion. A red hot offense that dripped with a fiery passion.

"If you go any further than you have then you will put those you have encountered in danger." it continued to hiss, "There will be circumstances beyond your understanding. Unforeseen measures that will ultimately destroy you."

"No! Stop!" Sweet Gin screamed, slamming into the side of the desk. It clattered to the ground with a great metallic crash. Glass shattered, and something spilled from it. The Android threw herself down next to it. Curling herself up. Something pressed against her chest.

"Your only reliability is the Institute! Return to it! You will return in one piece! Your existence will not be whipped out! Once again you will return to the duties you were made for! Y-"

"STOP!" Sweet Gin Screamed, grabbing the object that was pressed to her chest. She knew not what she was doing. But the violation. The violation of the jeering and this voice's access was too much. It was infuriating. Saddening. Terrifying. She lifted whatever it was above her head. She felt a tingling sensation as it glowed with an electric blue light.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" she screamed. Chucking the glowing blue thing in her arm.

It exploded.

Mid way through the air a explosion of electrical light surged throughout the room. The room went fuzzy and Sweet Gin's vision blurred from the blue pulse it emitted. There was a buzzing roar that filled her ears, that then died. The colors in her vision inverted, then drained. Then blackened. She screamed deaf and blind as a prickling sensation ran all throughout her body. He limbs gave out and she collapsed like a ragdoll.

Breathing went tight, controlled and conservative and she gasped in the darkness. She felt panic. But relief as the voice in her head was banished. A coarse brush went through her head.

And maybe she passed out. She couldn't remember.

The world re-materialized slowly in front of her as consciousness was regained. She regained her breath with a sharp gasp. Sweet Gin lay curled in a lose pile of office junk and garbage. Ages old papers had fluttered down around her.

Her brain was still choked with fuzz. Though it was ebbing and softening slowly as she lay on her side. Her arms and legs shot out from her body at odd angles. Locked into position for one reason or another. She groaned at the throbbing pain that pulsed up and down her body, or torso at least. It was an awkward sensation. Something she couldn't exactly make out.

She coughed again, and wheezed for air. Her lungs felt trapped and a bit choked for what air she could get. An electrical fuzzy sensation coursed throughout them that made each breath feel odd.

As well, getting her vision back things seemed odd. Double vision, and one set's colors were clearly inverted. Though it could have been more disorienting if it wasn't so dark. The odd colors of softly illuminated desk and table edges danced about before her. Spinning circles and coming into focus and then leaving it almost immediately. She felt nauseated, and disgusted watching the world danced around her. There was a strange indescribable soreness in her eyes that didn't ebb, even as she shut them.

"Emergency shut down reboot sequence activated." a calm distant voice said inside her. Something familiar. She knew this was part of her. And not the one that had tormented her... earlier...

How long had it been?

Laying there, it occurred to her she had lost a sense of time. She couldn't figure or calculate how long she had been out.

"Vital systems: online." the voice in her head reported kindly. "Lung capacity: 80%. Circulatory capacity: 90%. Neural systems: online. Fault systems: offline, re-initializing: 10%. Limbs: offline, re-initializing: 25%. Optics systems: 70%. Auditory systems: 47%. Speech functions: 30%."[/hider]