Mid-Morning, Late Spring, Year 2198

There was only so much Alexander could do to save a person from losing their battle with the greater strand of the Canilo virus. Truthfully, there really wasn’t much that he could do. His most recent patient was a tall, gangling, blond teenager who was just beginning his third week of infection. The boy’s name was Colin Evon, and had not long been rescued after barely surviving a mauling by a bear during his assigned hunt. The crude stitches on his rib cage were still present as he lay shirtless, and near lifeless, on the infirmary’s cot, shivering with fever.

“Please,” he begged. His lips were chapped and bluish, his voice cracking with the whispers of death. “I-I’m so cold.”

“Your fever is too high,” Alexander frowned without turning, knowing what the boy wanted. From a small refrigerator, he retrieved a bottle of cold and presumably clean water before returning to Colin’s side. “I can’t give you the blanket right now, okay? Here, drink this, you’re horribly dehydrated.”

The cold water was spat weakly out of the boy’s mouth the exact second that it entered. Growing weary from his tireless efforts at helping this hard-headed teen, Alexander let out a heavy, pointed sigh.

“You have to drink,” he said, “or you’ll only die faster.”

This elicited no further response from Colin, other than the fact that he weakly turned on his side, away from Alexander, who let himself out of the room immediately after. If the boy didn’t want to be helped, then there was nothing he could do to help him. It happened like that a lot with patients that came in who were gravely ill. Most of them had suffered some kind of previous trauma or loss anyway -- everyone had. There were a lot of things that a lot of people couldn’t handle, people who let it suck the life right out of them. Alexander refused to be one of those people. He’d literally been personally dealing with death since his first year of life.

Besides, he reasoned with himself, there are too many males in the area. We can afford to have a few die here or there.

Lately, there had been an increase of deaths caused by the greater virus. It was becoming a huge concern within the Saint camp, as the virus was becoming more and more difficult to contain. Most people were able to sit it out, and didn’t seem liable to acquire it again. However, there was still quite a few people who were dying from the illness. People who were dying slow, painful deaths, with seemingly no symptom relief no matter how Alexander treated them. He remembered his first year in the camp -- he’d caught the virus himself.

Maybe, he wondered, this has been going on since before I got here. Maybe this is why they were so quick to accept me.

The thought puzzled him for but a moment before another patient was knocking on his door.

---

@CLIW

Fren was in a hurry.

Assisting in murder was not something she was new to, however it was still something that got her adrenaline pumping. And quite frankly, she was getting too old for this. Though, most of the younger men just couldn’t resist the chance at having a bit of fun with an older, experienced woman. It was usually the younger ones who had a bit of money, which would have been passed down from parents to children. They were also the easiest to seduce.

But as Fren grew older, she began seeing the young men more as children. Having sex with and then helping murder individuals who she saw as children was seriously weighing on her conscience, not that she’d had much of one anyway. There hadn’t be a recent job she’d done that didn’t make her feel ill afterwards.

As she ran down the remnants of what was once a road, she clutched a potato sack full of chems, weapons, and ammo. There was a woman directly ahead of her, traveling with a small dog of some sort. However, also directly ahead of her was the Boar camp she was heading to. It awed her that the woman seemed to be walking fearlessly near the camp. She neared the woman, and pretended to run right into her.

“Oh, my dear,” Fren said, clutching tighter to the sack she carried. “I am so, so very sorry. Dear, please, don’t go any further this way. The Boars are right ahead. I’m just a slave. I really must get going.”

Then, Fren scurried away -- except now she was clutching two crude spears with glass heads. As she grew closer to the entrance of the camp, she glanced back foolishly to see if the woman had any suspicion.

Like most mornings, this one was early for Carmen, as it was for the majority of Buzzards. She’d risen before dawn, tossed her last piece of rabbit meat to Chester (poor thing had been awake and hungry for hours!), munched on a dry bit of yucca root, and swiftly dismantled her camp. She had a routine: first, she’d pack up the deer hides she’d slept in. Then, she’d cover up whatever hole she’d used as a latrine. Finally she would stamp out her fire and scatter the ashes before she set out. It was the same order each time she broke camp.

That had been the start of her day. Now, three or four hours later, she was walking at a brisk, steady pace along the edge of a Boar camp. She knew who it was, and she knew what they did, but she’d passed by this place before. She knew to be careful… or, she thought she did.

Chester nudged her calf with a low growl, and Carmen turned around to see a woman clutching a sack. As soon as she gave her attention, the stranger started to blubber on about the Boars, how she was just a slave, warning her to be careful… blah, blah, blah. She knew all of this. Just as she was turning to leave, however, she felt two wooden shafts sliding from her belt. Her spears! The ones she’d worked damn hard to make!

“Hey!” She shouted indignantly and whipped around. She started to pursue the woman, toward the Boar camp. A terrible, terrible idea. She slid to a stop and panted angrily; she was torn between outrage and fear. Chester was running ahead, baying with fury at the thief. She inwardly begged for him to stop; the last god-damned thing she needed right now was a bunch of pigs pursuing her. Breathless, she whistled for Chester and he stopped reluctantly with his tail wagging stiffly.

Maybe reason would work? Carmen shouted to the woman even as she got farther away. “Give one back! I’ll trade for it!” She knew she had nothing to trade. Well, maybe she did. A few rabbit bones. A skillful hand could turn those into shanks, and a slave of the Boars might find those handy for escape. “You can keep the other!” At this point, she wasn’t hopeful, though– and her legs were itching to run from this Boar settlement. It was simply unsafe.

A woman wandered the Wild, she had gotten up as the sun had peeked over the horizon, something she had done ever since she escaped her captors. She didn't want to be caught once again, she knew this, all of them knew this fact. She stopped and bent down, picking up small oddly shaped pebble and pocketing it, deciding to add it to the collection of things she had found already. She looked around, her dull green eyes determining which way she should go, "Let's keep going straight, it's safer that way." she spoke. "We could do that, I'd rather not run into someone else..." a quiet and timid voice came from her afterwards. It appeared this woman was talking to herself, "Oh shut up, Amanda! Stop being a chicken shit and grow a pair! I say we go in a random direction and find someone to kill! It's survival of the fittest out here, right? Sure we'll find someone we can kill and rob for stuff! Not to mention they might make a great meal afterwards!" a deeper voice came from the woman, this one seemed to be more like a dominant male; perhaps a violent one at that. The woman grinned at the idea, "I like the way you think, Steven. I mean, we haven't had a decent thing to eat since we got out of that place. I dunno about the rest of you, but I'm craving some meat, and human flesh is all we can manage to get at the moment. So I vote for going off in a random direction to find us someone to kill." another female voice said. This voice was calm and collected, this personality was clearly the leader of the group, if not close to being it.

"I agree with Claire, we need to survive out here, and if we let her keep doing this every day, we'll starve and become food ourselves! Personally, I would rather keep on living, opposed to the alternative. All in favor of letting Claire take the lead on this one? You know where I stand." Steven said. "W-wait! No! You can't do this! I-I'm in charge! This is m-my body! You can't just decide among yourselves to use it!" the woman exclaimed, clearly disapproving this course of action. "I don't think we should do this, guys, she doesn't want to go along with your plan. Neither do I." Amanda said, defending her friend. Suddenly the rock was used and smashed against the woman's leg, "That's enough out of you, my dear. Now, Sythi, do I need to do the same to you? Or will you cooperate with me?" Claire asked. There was silence before the rock switched hands, "A very wise choice. Now, where should we head? Any suggestions Steven?" she asked. The woman looked around and pointed to the southeast, "I suggest this way, I have a feeling something good will happen if we go in that direction." he replied. The woman nodded as her arm lowered, "Then it's decided, we go this way." Claire agreed. Compared to what the woman was like minutes ago, she now stood straight up and walked with confidence and without fear; if anything, she should be the one that was feared now.

Oliver drove the rusted pickup truck over the rough terrain. He bounced and jerked over every bump, but his face remained calm, an affect of the pot he smoked before heading out. The Diesel deal went bad again. His contact brought three other men and they had tried to change the terms of the agreement: less fuel, less food. Joke's on them. He glanced back at the three bodies in the bed of the truck. He'd stop at the butcher before heading home. The fourth got left behind for the Buzzards because he stank of the greater Canilo.

Oliver had lost two good men himself. Tom was in the passenger seat beside him, his head lulling from side to side. The bullet wound in his side was tied tight with the torn sleeve of his own shirt. Oliver was almost sure he could get him back to the clinic before he would succumb to the wound. It didn't look like any organs had been hit. Tom had screamed like a child when he pulled the bullet out to look inside the hole, shame it didn't go the whole way through.

He would've buried Holly and Jax if Tom hadn't been so critical. They too were left for the scavengers. Oliver couldn't bare the thought of eating his own friends, better strangers do it. Still, the thought made his stomach turn.

Despite all the bad turns, it wasn't a total loss. He got the fuel, the food, kept the chem and got the truck as a bonus.

The truck back fired as he slowed down, but Oliver didn't flinch. The cloud in his head barely registered the loud clap. As he entered the Mile High encampment, some of the sentries stared him down, but they were familiar faces and didn't cause a fuse when they recognized him. First stop, the butcher. Second stop, the clinic.

She was ten years old again, hurrying down a dimly lit hallway with five of her squadmates, and two other teams. Jacob was a week dead, and Richie had gone to help the demolitions division. He’d mentioned something about blasting their way to freedom before he’d left, with Rico’s blessing. Henrietta was missing, but the last she’d heard, the other girl had been severely ill. Someone had already gotten to the main powerlines, and now the facility was running solely on backup power, turning already dingy corridors into intermittent pools of generator-powered emergency lights breaking up long stretches of darkness. That didn’t bother the children much; they’d been trained to face less-than-ideal conditions. The guards and scientists, however, found it put them at a severe disadvantage, and many areas were littered with the corpses of the adults that formerly controlled the compound.

The lead signalled for the group to move forward around the corner and down the hallway beyond. They were sweeping one of the wings for survivors, intending to eliminate the adults and bring as many of the other children that were still alive but had been unable to join the fight to a central location, so they could be brought with once an escape route was secured. She hoped one of those they recovered would be the missing Henrietta.

They encountered few still living as they methodically covered their assigned wing. Few scientist had fled in this direction, and most of the children too sick to be able to force themselves out of bed were so poorly off that Rico and the other medic didn’t think they’d make it. She felt a rush of relief when Henrietta was not only lucid but sitting up in bed. “Hey guys,” the other girl said weakly, giving them half a smile before coughing. “Sorry I didn’t show, but I’m too dizzy to be able to tell friend from foe. I’d be a liability. Had to sit it out.”
“Don’t worry about it, Henri, we’re here to get you out. We’re getting out of here, and you’re coming with,” Rico responded briskly. “Dan! You take her.”

In the end, they only rescued a handful, but even one would have been worth it. They’d gone back to the common area to regroup, taking a quick detour to circle behind a team of guards that was fighting better than most. They’d managed to make themselves a barricade with two desks and a heavy table, and had pinned down a group of melee fighters that had already lost several of their number trying to overtake the fortified position. She hung back; body armor wasn’t perfect protection, after all, and the team members with guns were more than able to handle it. She stayed behind cover as Angie and Tommy advanced, covered by two boys from another team. She saw the flash of guns firing as they opened fire on the dug in guards, taking them from surprise from behind. Three of them fell right away, with a fourth wounded, and two more tried desperately to turn one of the desks, but were immediately targeted by their new opponents. The melee squad emerged from cover, with nods of thanks, and headed with to the commons.

Several more divisions were in the common area already, but they didn’t get much time to relax before a runner turned up, with news that the demolitions team had blown a hole in the outer wall of the compound, and it was time to head out. There were vehicles in a nearby lot, and most would fit through the gap that had been created. They wouldn’t be able to leave unopposed, but the tacticians figured they had some time before the adults brought out any of the really dangerous weapons. Still, it was going to be close. Her team stayed back, helping the injured up the steps while other squads went to secure vehicles and assist in fending off the adults intent on keeping them from escaping. She boosted Angie up to the low roof, where the sniper unslung her rifle and lay down in the lee of a set of chimneys, to act as overwatch.

A shot from an approaching group of enemies found its mark in a moment when Rico stepped too far out of cover to assist an eight-year-old struggling to carry a nearly-unconscious teammate that had been badly hurt in the earlier combat. The boy went down with a cry, and she dragged him back to cover, as Will and Tommy pulled the two he’d been helping out of the line of fire. She carefully rolled him over. “How bad is it?” she asked softly, trying to pull his hand away from his side enough to get a look.
“Bad,” Rico rasped, barely able to get the word out. Blood stained his lips. “Lung...maybe both.”

She looked around at the rest of her team. She was the healthiest, out of all of them. Whatever had spread like wildfire through the children of the ALICE project, it hadn’t hit her very hard at all. She was worn out from fighting, of course, but the others had been running on close to empty from the beginning. Will was pale and trembling, Dan kept having to shake his head to clear it, and Tommy looked exhausted. Henrietta was too dizzy to stand on her own, and though Angie was out of sight she’d seen that the smallest girl was having difficulty too. Richie had yet to return, though he was not as ill as most. “Stick with me, Rico. I’ll get you out of here,” she said softly. She started to tell the others they needed to move forward, but the boy in her arms grabbed her sleeve. She looked down at him, and he shook his head. She frowned. “You’ll make it,” she insisted, despite realizing he probably would not. She knew she shouldn’t, but she didn’t want to give up hope just yet. She’d been criticized in training for her tendency towards overly positive assessments. Rico shook his head, struggling to breath, and reached for the closest of her knives. A cold hand gripped her heart, and she reluctantly batted his fumbling fingers away and drew the blade herself.

“You’re sure?” she whispered. He nodded. She flipped the knife in her hand, but still she held it loosely. The members of her team were the closest thing she had to family. Rico covered her hand with his, making her grip the handle tighter, and gave her a weak smile. He couldn’t talk, but his pained eyes said enough.
Please.
She steeled herself for what needed to be done.

The woman awoke with a stifled gasp. Beside her, her partner’s eyes shot open, one hand reaching for her nearby pistol. “It’s alright, Angie, go back to sleep.” Angie let herself relax and pulled her hand back under the covers, but instead of closing her eyes she rolled over to look at her bedmate. “Y’okay?” she asked, voice rough with sleep.
“Yes, I’m fine.”
The green eyes didn’t look away, however. She could almost see the rings turning, though it was really too dim to make out such details. “Tha’ dream ’gain, eh?” The only response Angie got was a sigh. “Though’ so. Think y’ gonna be able t’ get back t’ sleep, ’r should we ge’ up fer a bit?”
“I’ve told you before, it doesn’t bother me /that/ much anymore. It’s just...unpleasant.”
The watching eyes blinked slowly. “So ya ’ave. Sorreh, not complet’ly ’wake righ’ now.”
“Then go back to sleep, freckle-face.”
“Now, tha’s not very nice, seein’s ’ow yer th’ one as woke me up,” Angie teased, pleased when she managed to earn a groan and a shove. “Haa, tha’s be’er. Nigh’, Lexie.”
“Night, Angie. Now shut up.”

Late spring, y2198

Angie cleaned up after their breakfast as Lexie took down the tent. It was a well-established ritual, and they knew exactly where each item went inside the Hunk without even thinking about it. It didn’t take long for the pair to finish, and they were ready to move out before the sun had gotten too far above the horizon. The day had started out brisk, as it did most mornings, but it wouldn’t be long before it warmed up. Lexie slid into the driver’s seat as Angie went around to the other side. They were in between jobs, though they were doing a minor favor for someone and heading to visit an old friend in the process. It generally took them a day or two to travel between places, since vehicles were no longer quite as fast as the stories said they once were, certainly not if you wanted them to last any length of time. That meant sleeping out in the Wild a day or two in between stops, though the pair didn’t mind. Sleeping out in the middle of nowhere was often somewhat safer than making a camp near other people. You never could be certain someone wouldn’t take a liking to a tool, or a weapon, or even to you. And while each of them could take out just about any individual in a straight up fight, people didn’t always make it a straight up fight, and they rarely fought fair. Not that the two were above using dirty tricks themselves, but they’d been designed to work in teams, with well-coordinated support. It wouldn’t do to grow careless and end up dead.

Angie’s eyes continually swept the sand between them and the horizon, searching for any sign of life. When she saw a trace of movement, she waved to her partner to stop, and hopped out of the truck with her .22 rifle in hand. There, about a hundred thirty yards out, a jackrabbit was foraging for its breakfast. The redhead took aim, and a shot through the head landed the rabbit on the ladies’ lunch menu.

The sun was high in the sky before Lexie cut the motor again, and the pair got out and stretched their legs. A gust of hot wind caught the loose beige-colored wraps the pair wore to help stay cool, and the taller woman took advantage of it to help open the reflective tarp she was unfolding. It took hardly any time at all to hang it between the Hunk and a pair of short poles, creating a patch of shade where they could rest through the hottest part of the day. Running the Hunk at that hour was asking for trouble in the way of overheating, at least during the hotter months, and the practice had become a tradition for most of the year. Angie settled next to her and started cleaning her air rifle.

“So.” Lexie raised an eyebrow at her partner as the other woman spoke. “Tha’ dream ’gain.”
Exasperated, she looked away. “I told you, it really doesn’t bother me that much anymore.”
“Eyah, but...ya ’aven’ ’ad i’ in wha’, a couple years? ’Sides, e’en if’n i’ don’ trouble ya, doesn’ mean ya ain’ troubled. So why now?”
She gave the question a bit of thought, but shook her head. “I really don’t know, I mean...actually no, hold on. I might have an idea after all.” Angie glanced in her direction for a moment before returning her gaze to her work. “The focus was Rico, and how...you know. I woke up right after that part this time. And, well, it’s not the same circumstances, but I couldn’t keep Tal from dying either. Heck, they didn’t even want me going near him, what with me not having had Greater Canilo yet.” She scowled at the ground between her outstretched feet. The man had been supportive of the pair, even when they were going against the norms of both Saints and Bears. They’d looked up to him.
“Eh, i’ sucks, but wha’ could ya possibly ’ave done t’ ’elp?” the other woman asked sensibly. “Ya’ al’ays were too much o’ a bleedin’ ’eart, if’n y’ask me.” She laughed as her comment got her a playful swat.
“Go make yourself useful, why don’t you, and bag us something else? I’d go instead to get away from you, but I’m not the one with the creepy stalker eyes,” Lexie grinned back.
“Ha~” Angie finished putting the air rifle back together and got to her feet, heading out into the wasteland.

Some time later, Lexie looked up from the shirt she was mending to see someone in the distance, specific features blurred by the heat haze of the desert. She closed the sewing kit, putting put kit and clothing back in the Hunk, and waited for the person to get closer.

((Person at the end is intended to be Sythi @Krinos Solstice))

@shylarah

It had been about an hour since Claire had taken control, "Well, we've been walking for awhile now, Claire, I still see no one." Steven said. The woman stopped and sighed, "Shut up, Steven, I know! You think it's easy finding people out here? You want to come try?" she asked, placing a hand on her hip as if she were annoyed. "Not particularly, no. You know my forte is killing, don't be stupid!" he replied. Her eyes narrowed, "What did you just call me?" she asked, clearly pissed now. "C-Claire...come on now, don't be rash. Let's think about this logically here." Steven said, clearly afraid of the woman. "Logically? LOGICALLY?! I'll fucking show you logically you son of a bitch!" she screamed, lifting the hand holding the rock. Moments afterwards, the arm lowered, the woman shaking her head as she sighed, "Those two act like a married couple. Then again..." a gentler female voice commented. She turned her head to spot the vehicle in the distance, it seemed there was a person with it, "At least I got to spot them before those savages did, Lord only knows what they would have done." she said as she began to walk once again.

As she got closer, she slowed her pace, "Hey there young lady, I'm glad I ran into someone else out here!" she called in a cheerful voice. She came to a stop and realized she was holding the rock, "Oh dear me! Why am I holding this? Must have been one of the others who found it. Such barbarians and savages, I feel sorry for Sythi and Amanda, they have to put up with those violent ones all the time." she said to herself, letting the rock fall from her grip. She moved forward, now unarmed and raising her hands to show she wasn't a threat, "So are you alone out here? You know it's dang-" she paused for a moment. "Will you two knock it off?! Go take your argument elsewhere, I don't want to hear it anymore! Especially when I'm trying to talk to someone here!" she barked. She then returned her attention back to the woman in front of her, "I apologize for that, the married couple needed to be reminded of their manners. Now, where was I? Oh yes! It's dangerous out here, you really shouldn't be by yourself, even if you do have this thing. Someone much less friendlier than myself might come along and try to take it." she said, motioning casually to the Hunk.

The camp was lacking in usable medical technology. Power was being distributed less to other camps and settlements than it was to Bear outposts and barracks. It infuriated Alexander, because this meant he couldn’t perform a proper check-up on his recently pregnant patient like he’d hoped.

“I’m really sorry, ma’am,” he’d explained. “We’re not getting enough power.”

The woman had merely sighed with an extremely solemn look on her face and nodded, before uttering a thank you and shuffling out of the exit.

After a short break for something small to eat, it was time for him to check again on Colin. He was promptly taken aback to find that the cot Colin had been resting on was now empty. It was almost impossible -- not only should Alexander have heard him leave, it should have been extremely difficult or painful for Colin to stand.

“Alanna?”

He turned and peeked around the doorway, looking out into the hallway. “Alanna? Have you seen Colin?”

The brunette nurse looked at him with confusion, “He said you let him go. He was completely fine.”

Oh, no.

---

@CLIW

As the woman behind her called after her, proposing a trade, Fren skidded to a stop, but didn’t turn around. The dog had already frightened her -- she never liked animals, and especially not ones that were trying to attack her, no matter how small, weak, or ugly-looking. A glass-headed spear was clutched tightly in her right hand while the other now rested in her bag. If the woman were to attack her, Fren could most definitely take care of herself. In fact, with the right planning, she could even manage to swipe more from the young, naive woman...but she was in a hurry. Finally, she spun around, eyes scanning the area for separate movement. The route which her accomplices had taken was unknown to her, always was, but that didn’t mean they weren’t sticking close. She was still equivalent to a slave, after all.

“Alright, girl,” Fren called back, keeping her distance. Her dialect, which was some bizzare, unheard of mix between pre-war Scottish and Jamaican, was more pronounced now that her voice was risen. She lifted the hand that was gripping the spear and waved it slightly at the young woman. “I’m gonna walk back. You stay right where you are, and be quick about the exchange, now. I’m still in a rush. I’ve got things to take care of. And I ain’t afraid to stab the mutt if I gotta.”

Oh, Fren, she said to herself, you’re old enough to know better than this.

Late spring, y2198

Lexie let her hand move away from the hilt of a dagger when the woman didn’t appear to be immediately hostile. She glanced around, but whoever else the woman was speaking to didn’t appear to be in sight. “I’m not worried about people trying to take it,” she replied, smiling back. Her gaze swept the other woman head to toe and back up. “You’re not very well equipped for travelling, though. I know we’re not far from the Saint’s camp, but I’m surprised you’ve made it so far. Where’s the rest of your group?” She tapped her ear, indicating a radio. The brunette didn’t feel it was prudent to let the newcomer know about Angie, not yet at least, though she expected her friend to return before too much longer. “Honestly, you don’t look like you’re in good shape at all. Did something happen? Here, why don’t you at least come out of the sun. But don’t touch the Hunk, you won’t enjoy it if you do.” The tarp looked fairly ordinary, but it was designed specifically to block the sun, and had proved to be worth the high price they’d paid for it. Lexie had thought it was too much, but Angie had a good sense for that sort of thing.

Once they were both in the shade, which was significantly cooler, she tilted her head at the woman. “I’m Lexie, Lexie Swift,” she said, deciding that if the other lady knew her reputation enough to know about Angie, that meant she’d also know not to mess with either of them. “Where are you heading?”

@CLIW
@shylarah
“Where are we going~?” Tachi’s voice came in a slightly mechanical chirp, and the drone adjusted its grip on the young man’s bag so it could look over his shoulder. They’d been together just shy of three years, and in that time the little robot had become very fond of Derek, accompanying him everywhere unless expressly forbidden, and sometimes even then.

“We’re gonna visit Adrian,” Derek responded. It had only been recently that he’d started holding conversations with the man, hoping to find some kind of inspiration or further knowledge from him. Adrian seemed like a person that was absolutely nuts, but at the same time, wise. Derek couldn’t quite tell, between observing him from afar and speaking with him only a few times.

They were already leaving later than Derek had hoped. Although he’d asked his slave, Anna, to wake him earlier than she did, it seemed that both of them overslept. Anna had apologized repeatedly, obviously expecting some kind of mistreatment from him. Derek only reassured her that she was human, and made mistakes too. Anna was a gift to him on his 20th birthday two years ago, the same year he’d acquired his own, personal home. While Derek considered being gifted a live human being rather appalling, he thought not only would it be rude to reject the gift, but if he accepted, he could give Anna a better life. He felt like he had done a decent job at providing her with comfort and emotional stability, unlike what other slaves received.

“I am not familiar with him.” The drone’s three working eyes swept the area, but it only had passing familiarity with the majority of the Diesel folk, mostly because the ones it got close to on its own tended to try to take it apart. Forcibly. It played with a bit of shiny metal, using three of its manipulation arms to turn the piece over and over, catching the light.

“Oh, sure,” Derek insisted. “You’ve been with me while I’ve talked to him before. You just might not remember.” He turned his head slightly to look at the little bot while it toyed with a piece of scrap metal. “What’cha got there?”

“I hate forgetting. I’m not supposed to forget.” Since the disastrous crash that had brought it to its new friend, Tachi had problems with corrupted memory files on a regular basis. “Unidentified metal. It’s shiny!” The bot extended the larger arm holding the item a few inches, offering it to Derek. Upon closer inspection, the piece proved to be a spark plug, something that someone was probably going to miss. Derek plucked the object out of Tachi’s metallic pincers and turned it over in his fingers himself. “Where’d you get it from?” he asked, not sure if it was something that he’d stowed away in his own bag or not.
“Found it.”

Derek raised an eyebrow and looked again at the small bot. “Tachi, where did you find it?” He stopped walking and stuck the spark plug in his pocket, then reached back and pulled Tachi in front of him. For something with no facial expressions, the little drone looked incredibly guilty. “Near the lot...am I in trouble now?”

Sighing, he helped push Tachi back to rest on his backpack. “No,” he said, though sounding just a bit irritated. “But, we have to return it, and you need to be careful about what you pick up. That little piece of metal is important. Okay?” Again, he started walking, figuring that he could talk to Adrian about returning the spark plug

“Okay!” As long as it wasn’t in trouble, the small drone was happy, especially since it had found something important. Collecting samples was part of its mission, and learning one it found was important made it feel accomplished.

“Good,” Derek said, withdrawing the spark plug from his pocket and holding it up so that Tachi could see it. “Like I said. This is a spark plug. They’re important. We don’t take them from anywhere. Got it?”

“Not a good sample?” Tachi asked, sounding disappointed. “Not useful?” It often had trouble understanding ideas that went counter to its original mission, but Derek was making it clear that taking this particular not-a-sample was wrong. Like a child, it sought approval from its designated parent, and scolding tended to be the most effective way to keep it in line.

“Not a good sample, not useful,” he repeated her words in the affirmative, shaking his head. Then, he considered future circumstances for a moment and added, “...Unless I tell you that we need one.”
“I will remember. No spark plugs, unless we need one.”

“Yes, good,” he said. Adrian’s house was now in sight, but not for long before a large, and loud, jeep-like vehicle skidded to a halt in front of it, blowing dust and dirt all over the place, including toward Derek and Tachi. The robot ducked farther behind Derek to avoid the worst of it, making an irritated whirring noise. “Inconsiderate!”

“Shush, Tachi,” Derek hissed. The vehicle was unfamiliar. Not that there weren’t several vehicles scattered around the particular Diesel territory where he resided, but most of them were identifiable by other Diesels. This one, however, was not, and from it emerged a man with clothing that was a bit too filthy even for modern standards. The man also had a rifle strapped to his back, and was carrying a crudely built crate. It seemed that he and Derek were heading to the exact same place.

Derek scoffed, completely accidentally, at the fact that this man took it upon himself to just cut in front of him and Tachi. The man, in return, looked at him and grinned.

“What’s up?” He shouted.

“You’re not a Diesel,” Derek replied calmly, shuffling the bag on his back so that Tachi was just a little bit less visible. The drone stayed wisely silent, for once, and didn’t move.

“Nope,” the man nodded. “Just making a delivery. I’ll be out of your way here soon.” As the man turned his back and began walking toward the house, Derek trotted over and called after him, “Hey, wait!” Then, again, the man faced Derek with an increasingly irritated expression on his sunken-in face.

“What is it, man?”

“What are you delivering? Chems, right?”

The stranger’s mouth fell open just slightly, expressing his shock, before a lazy grin spread over his face once again. “Yeah,” he said. “But I don’t suspect you’ll go around telling people that, right? ‘Cause, you know, if you did...it could cause a serious problem.”

“We won’t!” The bright voice didn’t come from Derek, but from Tachi, who in its eagerness to assure the newcomer that things would be fine forgot to stay quiet. A light seemed to ignite in the stranger’s eyes, one of curiosity. “Oops…” the drone muttered, pulling its limbs in tight to make a slightly smaller target. The man turned and sat the crate carefully on the hood of the vehicle, and started toward Derek and Tachi.

“What’s that, huh?” he asked, his lazy grin turning to one of menacing excitement.

“A little robot,” Derek choked out honestly, mostly out of fear. “She can’t hurt anything. It’s not like she’s a threat to you.”

“Yeah? Let me see it.”

“No!” A faint humming sound indicated that Tachi’s rotors now had power, something it couldn’t maintain for long, but necessary should it need to gain elevation to escape.

“Nope,” Derek shook his head, reaching for his switchblade. “She doesn’t like for other people to touch her.”

“Give it to me or I’ll blow your brains out,” the man snarled, grabbing the rifle from his back and aiming .

“Uh, A-Adrian! Adrian!” Derek yelled in desperation, drawing his switchblade even though it was definitely no match for a rifle. The drone added its voice to his, emitting a shrill whistle, the piercing sound designed to help warn off enemies, and aid in drawing attention from others at a distance.

Carmen felt her lungs expel a large breath that she hadn’t known she’d been holding as the woman stopped and called back to her: “Alright, girl.”. She didn’t want to admit to anyone, even to herself, how desperate she was: she was almost out of glass with which to make new spears or arrows, and although she wasn’t terribly far from the remains of a neighborhood littered with the stuff, she simply didn’t like those places. For one thing, she got turned around and lost easily, and more important, they really just creeped her out.

Although she hadn’t gone anywhere remotely near relaxing, the threats over the dog sent her straight into full alert again. Bristling with anger mixed with fear but quite unable to inform Fren that she could go fuck herself, Carmen shouted, “Deal!” and whistled for Chester. The medium-sized canine skidded to a stop himself, thankfully a somewhat-safe distance from the potential threat. Then, reluctantly, he shook his head and trotted back to her with his curly tail sticking above him.

Carmen wasted no time in taking out her backpack. Out came the rabbit bones, which she’d tied into a neat bundle. A very old fork and a hefty bundle of pine needles soon followed. She looked toward Fren. It wasn’t much. As an afterthought, she pulled out one of her arrows and laid it out with the other items. Hopefully it would be enough. She reached out and tensely gave Chester a scratch behind the ear.

---

Idly, Adrian sipped from a jar of very strong wine. It was made with...prickly pears, or something like that. It burned pleasantly and gave him a nice buzz on its way down, and he nodded approvingly at its taste. Wasn’t the best booze he’d had, but it certainly wasn’t the worst either. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be able to get drunk on it. Not yet, at least. He was only having a taste while he waited for a delivery.

His guy was late, as usual. And as usual, it pissed him right off. With a scowl he took a hefty gulp of the wine, swirled the remainder of the jar’s contents, and set it down. It was time, he decided, to go see what was up with this trade. Just as he got up though, he heard someone shout his name, followed by one of the most horrifying shrieks he'd ever had the displeasure of hearing. Nearly made him jump out of his own skin. That wasn’t his delivery.

He grabbed his wrench out from under the rickety chair he’d been sitting in and got to his feet. In a couple long strides he was at the door and flinging it open with vicious force. Being slightly drunk, he didn’t expect throwing the wrench at this Mile-High dude to work. Incredibly, he had a lucky throw. Oh, yes, very lucky. He hit the bastard right straight in the side of the head and then ran outside.

“You were supposed to deliver my order and get the hell out of here,” Adrian snarled. As much as the wrench must have hurt, it had by no means knocked the man out. He was, however, able to wrestle the rifle out of his grip. (It was a nice rifle. Maybe he could sell it.)

He turned his face to the younger man––almost a boy compared to himself––and practically barked the command, “Get inside. I’ll deal with him. He’s a...a business partner.” Naturally, he wanted to ask what on Earth that shrieking thing was, and he also wanted to call the dude by his name. He knew he’d talked to him a couple times before, but it was with only a little guilt that he realized he couldn’t remember his name. Devin? Damien? Douglas? Whatever. There wasn’t time for that right now.

@CLIW

At the tone of Adrian’s voice, Derek flinched, but immediately obeyed. He gave the stranger, now on the ground, one last look before darting into the house, making sure that Tachi was with him, and the drone ceased its ear-piercing shriek. Once inside, he shut the door to wait on Adrian. His heart was racing, pumped from the adrenaline rush. Again, he grabbed the small bot and pulled her in front of him.

“Quick recap,” he said, “That man just threatened to kill me in order to try to take you away from me, and then Adrian busted out and knocked him out with a wrench. This all right?”

“Your summary of events is accurate, save that you left out him nearly running us over first,” it replied, shifting in his grip. “He is not a nice person.” Already, Tachi disliked the Mile-High member. It took threats to its friend personally, and sending high-speed projectiles through a human cranium was likely to be lethal, and thus unwelcome.

“Not nice,” Derek shook his head. “Not at all. You need to definitely avoid him if he comes back around and I’m not with you, understand?” The thought of losing Tachi, especially to someone that was more than likely just going to sell her, dismantle her and sell her parts, or find some way to manipulate her for his own gain, made him sick. Tachi had been around him for a good three years now, and he wasn’t about to get comfortable being without her.

“His face has been recorded in my databanks, and tagged as hostile. I will stay away.” It too feared being taken and damaged or destroyed, and it wanted to stay with Derek. “You should too. I can be rebuilt. Humans cannot.”

Derek nodded, warmed by the fact that Tachi had said such a thing. “I will, but don’t worry. I can take care of myself.” Then, to try to tease her, though not sure if it would work, he said, “You’re flimsy.”

“Designed for speed and mobility, not tasks with high risk of damage.” The drone missed the joke completely. “You’re smart enough to get out of a lot of things. Not as smart as...a-a-as...Error: file corrupted. Data cannot be recovered.” A faint grinding noise accompanied the last words, which were spoken in a flat tone, and Tachi froze for a moment as it had to remedy the problem. It had shown similar errors in the past, mostly surrounding someone who had clearly been important, but retained little information on.

“Tachi?” he said, sounding a bit worried. Even though it had happened before, he was always afraid that his favorite little bot would forget him.

Tachi twitched, beeped once, and turned all three eyes towards him. “Apologies. You’re smart enough to get out of a lot of things, like someone I knew.” The tone was subtle, but Derek could tell the loss of memory, especially ones that had clearly been flagged as important, bothered it.

He let out a deep sigh, taking a seat in one of the wooden kitchen chairs, and said, “I wish you could remember things from before you met me, Tachi.”

“Human minds and robot minds do not work the same way,” the bot commented, extending one of its larger arms to rest the clawed digits at the end on one of his fingers in an imitation of a human gesture. “I may still have related information in my memory, but data that has been destroyed must be recovered from another source. With no available backups, it isn’t possible.” The claw retracted, and Tachi continued in a brighter tone. “But I can record new experiences to replace the lost ones, so it’s okay.”

“You’re right,” Derek smiled. “You get to have better experiences. With me. Right?” He reached out and nudged the bot. Ever since he’d gotten really comfortable holding a conversation with her, he’d tried to find some way to instill more playfulness and humor. However, as one could tell, it’s extremely hard to do that with a robot. Tachi made a chittering noise that it used to indicate amusement, and poked him back. “Yes!”

“There you go,” he grinned. “So I guess it’s my fault for worrying about what you knew before me.” For a short moment, he was silent, and he put a finger to his chin in thought. “Do you know how old you are, Tachi?”

“No. Most recorded dates have errors. At least a few years before you found me, though.”

“We’ll find out some day,” Derek insisted. The little bot seemed smarter -- much smarter -- than the one that he had encountered while living in the old settlement. He wanted to know where all of her information came from and who created her.

“Yes! It will be a great adventure!” it chirped back, wiggling excitedly. It tilted its body back to face him more directly. “I am surprised. Usually you don’t want to have adventures.”

This was true, and Derek shrugged shyly. It did make him nervous to think about tracking down the maker, if the maker was even still alive. He didn’t know that for sure. He guessed he could ask Tachi, but another question was pressing him. “What was your main purpose, Tachi? Why you were created.”

“I am a Cifereca-class drone. Model 4, batch 2, designation tau-C-H-I. Operating system CIF 42 version 6.7, compatible with all CIF-type systems. AI version RD2.2, upgrades signed by Sparks.” The robot repeated the same answer it had given him when he’d first asked what it was, and what he should call it. As Derek listened to her, he could recall hearing it all before. “Mission objectives are exploration and analysis. I’m supposed to go places, and see things, and test them, and collect samples. I am good at what I do.” Tachi sounded proud.

“You are good at what you do,” he replied, smiling. Then, something stood out to him this time that didn’t stand out before. His eyebrows furrowed together as he grew more curious, “You said, upgrades signed by Sparks? Is that a name?”

“I have no further details on that. It’s filed under comments.” Tachi sounded intrigued, though. “Do you think that might be a person? The person who made me?”

“It could be,” he said, nodding his head. “But there’s really no telling. One day, we’ll find out, though.” Derek didn’t know why he was so focused on finding Tachi’s creator -- but if what Tachi said was true about her age, there was a possibility that the maker could still be alive.

“Yes! We’ll find out!” it agreed with enthusiasm.

---

@CLIW

A gun, he would have expected. A knife, sure. But believing his demise was going to be caused because of a wrench?

How pathetic, were the words that crossed Chris’ mind as he writhed on the ground in pain. One hand loosely clutched his rifle while the other rubbed the bump forming on his head, and he only just barely registered the weapon being pried from his hand. He let out a strangled, angry grunt between his groans of pain, and after a few long, painful minutes, he was able to bring himself to a sitting position.

“Shut up, fricken’ alcoholic,” he mumbled with a drawl, squinting towards Adrian. “That thing coulda made me some cash off spare parts.” A hand clutched his head where the wrench had struck. “Gimme my rifle back. And you didn’t have to hit me with a fricken’ wrench!”

---

@CLIW

Carefully and slowly, Fren inched back toward the woman. She was sure to keep an eye on the dog that accompanied her. There was no telling what kind of mutations the animal itself possessed, much less what the woman possessed. Most mutations nowadays were internal, hardly noticeable. From the bag the woman carried, she withdrew rabbit bones, a fork, a bundle of pine needles, then an arrow.

The arrow looked promising, but still the woman held the spear. She crouched down and continued to inch toward the woman until the arrow was within arm’s length. “Alright,” she said. “I’ll give you one of your spears back for that arrow.” Up went an eyebrow as she eyed the woman warily, waiting for an answer.