The Glasslands

A transcript of the instant messenger roleplay myself and Ralana started.  Setting is in Africa, post nuclear holocaust. (dreadnaught)

***
    It had twenty years since the bombs dropped, and things were no better since the day the holocaust started.  The days were morbidly hot.  The sun almost always appeared to be at high noon and the African wastelands were pressure-cooker hot.  The denizens of the continent had fled most of the mediterranean deserts, as they were next to uninhabitable, for the tropical lush jungles of rwanda and central Africa.  This was not to say there were more hardy settlements throughout the desert, however they were few and far in between.  Society had fallen to a shadow of what it once was, with only the crumbling government of South Africa holding some semblance of control over the out-of-control landmass.

    Only remnants of the technology the outside world had to offer remained.  The rest of the world had entirely abandoned them.  In fact, they frequently killed anyone who tried to traverse the walls they set about the country.  Africa was not a home to anyone.  It was a prison.  At least that''s how Arentino Swain felt about it.  He was a freelance journalist who had come to africa some twenty five years ago to report on the tribal conflicts in east Kenya.  He managed to find shelter when the bombs dropped, but when he emerged he was greeted by an arid deathland, and the muzzles of fully automatics patroling gates of his prison.  He wasn''t even from this country, but he was damned here like the rest of them, and boy was he bitter about it.

    Swain bit into an apple, and he could taste the tainted radioactivity within it tingling his gums.  Even good food was hard to come by.  How many pounds had he lost?  Thirty?  Fourty?  More?  He was emaciated, and instead of reporting on a third world country, he had become a part of it.  He scrunched his nose as he viewed the seven-day rotted corpse that sat within the shanty he raided.  Flies buzzed around the body''s dessicated eyepits, and its mouth was pulled back in a mummified grimace.  He was used to sights like this, often times, but he had to keep moving.  He filled his knapsack with whatever canned food the building had available, and prepared to move on.

 ***
    The waves of heat radiated off from the surface of the desert ahead, like rising steam or a strange mist. The air felt dead and tasted decayed as there was no breeze. The sun’s rays had already changed the color of her skin three or more shades darker than her formerly pale features. This was nothing like she would have imagined the outside world to be only days ago. The woman stumbled forward fighting off the urge to lay down in the rocky sand, or to dig for water. She needed to find some sort of settlement...if there even was one...
    Her stumbling slow as her blue eyes fluttered up towards the burning orange sun in the sky. Unlike most no one had ever told the girl not to look directly into it. There was no reason not to. Completely unaware that her retinas were burning she tilted her head thinking it was odd she was in this much discomfort over something so far away. It had been the first time she felt such heat, so much so that it was irritating. She supposed that now a normal person would be sunburned by now, but her skin was still as silky smooth as the day she had been born.  Yet, even if the sun only caused her discomfort to her body it seemed to do something strange to her mind. As the heat blurred her vision her mind circled back and she could hear that song from her father’s broken record echoing all around her,
    [i:1d04tb5m]Maybe....you''ll think of me when you are all alone...maybe the one who is waiting for you...[/i:1d04tb5m]
    Her mind reeled back flickers of movie images of her old apartment in the vault the last moment she had seen it. The room was tossed apart, the desk tipped over, couch upside down, lamp shattered, and the lights in the room were flickering...as the record player skipped the song.

  [i:1d04tb5m]  ...then what will you do....maybe....you''ll sit and sigh...wishing that I were near dear. Maybe...you''ll ask me to come back again...and maybe...I''ll say maybe....[/i:1d04tb5m]
    Over the broken sounds of the badly recorded song the girl could hear screams and the sounds of guns firing off. Her blue eyes were solely focused on the floor covered in a thick red liquid draining out of her father''s body...exactly where the bullet had entered his brain.
    [i:1d04tb5m]Maybe you''ll beg me. When you are all alone....maybe the one who is waiting for you....will prove untrue then what will I do. [/i:1d04tb5m]
    More screams echoed around her as the woman slowly started to turn her gaze away from the dead man on her floor. But, it wasn''t the screams that drew her attention....no....instead it was the odd sensation that there was something dripping down her leg. Slowly looking down at herself the woman put her hand on her stomach feeling the open bleeding wound that was flowing down her front. With little thought she dug inside her flesh while her mind still listened to the music....it was as if she were in a fog...But then she stopped feeling something inside as her fingers gripped something. Slowly she pulled out out her now clenched hand from her gut before going to open the palm....and there...lying in the palm of her hand....a small metal ball, or bullet....
   [i:1d04tb5m] Maybe, you''ll sit and sigh....wishing that I were near dear....then maybe you''ll ask to come back again.....and maybe....I''ll say maybe....[/i:1d04tb5m]

 ***
    Swain bit down on the apple again.  It was terrible.  He had heard stories of the people going mad from eating tainted food.  As he rummaged through the can goods he knocked a few things over on the desk. The shanty was nothing special, and in fact, it was just that.  A small fridge held some fresh fruits, but most of them were rotten by now.  The loose, wooden door banged constantly in the scathing wind, and the floor was covered in sand as dust blew in from the open window, toustling tattered curtains to and fro.  Everything in the shack was covered in a thin layer of sand.  The only luxury the corpse touted was a small FM radio which clattered to the floor.
    Swain stood in front of the window, looking down at the radio, not notcing the figure trudging towards the house, [i:1d04tb5m]"Maybe... you''ll ask me to come back again... and maybe... i''ll say maybe...."[/i:1d04tb5m] He sat there, as if he were recollecting something, or as if the song had triggered a flashback of some sorts in his head.[i:1d04tb5m] "Maybe you''ll beg me... when you''re all around."[/i:1d04tb5m]  He snapped back into his surroundings, and could feel that constant heightened awareness--that sense of paranoia grip at his mind.  He stomped down on the radio, shutting it off with a quick crack.  Then looked out the window.  "Oh my god..." he whispered to himself, his eyes widening.

    He scrambled about the corpse, reaching into a satchel it clasped in it''s dried dead hands.  Pulling out a small caliber handgun he checked the clip...  Only two bullets.  "Roamer." He hissed to himself, ignoring the radio suddenly cutting back on.  He stormed out the front door, taking aim at the trudging figure, and fired a round right at her, with a quick practiced pull of the trigger.

***
    As the song continued playing the girl dropped the bullet in her hand letting it roll over the pool of blood towards the dead body. As the sound of another gunshot rang off in her ears, but she paid it little mind. Wait-one gun shot? That’s not how-
    Her thoughts stopped as she was suddenly brought back to reality as something hit her stomach, and quickly barreled through her flesh causing the girl to stumble backwards from the sheer force. She blinked looking down at her stomach as her tattered blue vault suit was dyed red with her blood once again. Eden slowly glanced up from the wound not noticing that the bullet was traveling out the other side of her back and that streams of blood were flowing out from both sides of her frame. The girl looked up in the distance seeing a man at the front door of…what she assumed to be a house.  He was the one who had shot her. Coughing Eden turned to his direction walking steadily forward, the bullet having little effect on her movements as herwound quickly began to heal. “You really shouldn''t waste bullets like that..."

***
    Disbelief washed over Swain as he watched the wound begin to knit, the blood clot, and the wound close.  Then the roamer spoke, "You really shouldn''t waste bullets like that..." She said.

    Swain strafed the side of the entrance, still training the gun on her, for all the good that would probably do him.  He wasn''t really sure whether he should talk to her or not, roamers and mutants usually didn''t try to talk to him.  They just tried eating him.  If one thing was for certain he definitely wouldn''t let on he was holding out on food.  He slung the pack over his shoulder with is left arm, his right still pointing the gun at Eden.  He slowly walked backwards, it was a little over a day''s travel to his hideout, and there was little area to lose her in the sand dunes if he ran and she decided to chase him.  The way she healed from that bullet wound made standing and fighting seem like less of an option as well.
    Swain''s mind raced through his options.   Unfortunately, they were few and far in between.  Just like the option he had in living here, just like the option that corpse probably had to die alone in the African wastelands.  "What do you want," he finally uttered in a dry, hoarse, cracked voice, just as arid as the dessert he scavanged from.

***

    Eden blinked. What did she want? Well with the gun in his hand, and with no one else around she supposed he was intimidated by her? Or thought she was some sort of monster. “Water…food…” The girl continued walking towards him now fully healed of the bullet wound and not bothered by it. She supposed this was an awkward way for her to meet someone or to seek help, but Eden was getting desperate. She knew nothing of this land, and even with her abilities she needed water. Slowly and gingerly the twenty year old went to lift up her hands, “I don’t want to hurt you…I’m lost…”

 ***
    Swain''s eye twitched, "Don''t you talk down to me!" He said, shoving the gun at her, as if it still allowed him an aura of superiority.  Unconsciously his teeth ground against each other, and his trigger finger twitched.  He wore a short sleeve shirt torn at the sleeves, and his arms were fried a deep brown from days upon days of constant sun exposure, his hair was long and greasy, and a soaked bandana tied around his forehead, allowing his hair to pull back somewhat neatly.  He wore short khakis and had a large dufflebag full of his own food supply in it.  "You aren''t hurting anyone, not if I put a bullet in your brain!  This time I wont miss!" He snarled.

    "Besides, food and water... that''s a lot to ask for, out here."
***
    Eden tilted her head to the side. Would a bullet to the brain actually work? She wasn''t sure, but saying that fact may not get her anywhere with this crazed man. She was more used to civilized people who spoke calmly, and polietely even when they were about to kill you. Although maybe of the scientists did become quite vuglar when her brothers and sisters dispatched them. He must have been scared of her. "I wasn''t-" Eden sighed trying to think of the right words, "Perhaps I should find someone more rational to trade with."

***

    Swain slowly lowered the gun as he stared at her.  Both his arms went slack, and the dufflebag clattered to the ground next to him as he canted his head bag.  There was an intense moment of silence between the two as the mutant girl decided she might take her proposition elsewhere, and Swain couldn''t believe what he was hearing.  So she definately wasn''t an actual mutant, not like the ones he had encountered before.  She also wasn''t a roamer, that was cut out as soon as she spoke to him.  She likely wasn''t a bandit, either.  He ran over what she said to him one more time, then tilted his head back and chuckled.  His chuckle soon erupted into full-blown laughter.

***

    Eden arched a brow at that, his laughter. How was what she said funny? He must have been crazy from all the sun. The girl her arms just watching him with a puzzled look on her face, "What''s so funny?" Sighing she brushed some of her messy red hair back out of her eyes before going to move around the former reporter, "Fine, I''ll find someone else...''

***

    An idea struck Swain, like a lightening bolt out of the only cloud in the sky.  He may have been driven half insane by the sun, but he was still quick witted, and he might yet have a use for her.  "There isn''t anyone else,"  While it may not have been true that there as NO ONE left, her chances of surviving to find another in the desert, he thought, were slim.  "...Unless you count that body in the shed."  She wanted to make a trade, and he had a proposition for her, "But if can get you water, plenty of it.  And food. But i''m going to need you to do something for me."

***

    Eden arched a brow at his words as she turned around. There was no one? Well, that wasn''t entirely a good thing then was it? Or well as long as they didn''t find her she guessed they''d be ok. She didn''t see eye to eye with her brothers and sisters who had left the vault with her. Unlike them her mind had remained more intact than theirs, or at least so Eden thought. Her eldest brother had been the leader of the group, the one with the idea to overthrow their parents. And well...his plans of make slaves of the surface dwellers were clearly ruined now. He was going to be pissed.

    Either way if this man was really the only other person in the world, besides them, Eden was certainly lucky to find right away. "Oh? And what is it you want me to do?"

***

    "Well, to put it in the simplest of terms, i''ll need you to get something for me."  He said.  "I can fill you in on the details on the way back, that is, if you accept my proposition."  He said, feeling fairly sly that she had bought into what he said.  But, in truth, it had been months since he had seen another living human being.  The desert wasteland was, by far, the least populated area.  Most of the people had fled to the far south where they were offered some refuge from the rest of the harsh, world.

***

    Eden peirced her lips thinking about what he said. He was definately leaving something out of the equation, but then again so was she. "Arlight fine." The woman assumed getting soemthing for him wouldn''t be very difficult, and clearly he would need her help. "But, I want water first before we start walking."

 tossed her one of his canteens dangling from his neck.  "Follow me," he said, still gripping the gun in his hand.  The trek was a long one northward of the shanty.  The biting sands and the tingling of radiation caused shudders down his spine.  It was a quiet journey the two of them made, and it was sundown by the time they had reached his hideout.  However, it appeared as if there was nothing there but shifting dunes and small dust dervishes whipped up by the evening winds.  The journalist turned to face her, still not fully trusting.... whatever she was.   "Turn around and cover your ears," He said, his hand still on the gun.

She still had his canteen in her hands, it was halfway gone by now with how much she had drank on the way there. After spending days in the desert with no water Eden couldn’t help herself, and really part of her had no intention of giving it back. In fact all she would have to do was run, but again if he was really the only other person in the world…it would be better if they weren’t enemies. But now his request mad him all the more puzzling. He really had gone mad hadn’t it? Why did it matter if she saw? The woman had thought about arguing with him, but if this was some little game that he wanted to play then she''d go along with it. Maybe this was a surface dweller greeting, or something silly like that.

Letting out a heavy sigh Eden turned her back to the man while covering her ears, “Like this?&quot

Swain eyed her for a moment until he was satisfied that she couldn''t hear or see what he was doing, then shuffled his feet backwards, kneeling down in the sands.  He brushed his hands across the sands, feeling for the entrance of his domain.  It was hidden perfectly underneath the sands, and it took him a little while to actually come across the metal hinge of the door.  The man felt around until he came across the chain that tied to the doorway, then pulled it opening the lid to his lair.  As he walked down into the subterranean hideout he closed the lid overtop of him.

The interior of his hideout was dark and fairly damp.  Upon initially entering the building there was shelves of cans and non-perishable foods he had stocked.  It was a cramped space that he had to turn sideways and strafe into, but once he unloaded all the cans he had found in his bag he continued down the hallway.  The closet-space ended in what appeared to be a large map of the surrounding desert.  After pulling the map up there was a door which he opened with a key jammed in his pocket.  Inside that doorway was a relic of the past.  A few computers, and several monitors, many of which didn''t function anymore due to debris clotting their interiors.  He pulled a small head-camera from one of the shelves in the room, attached to it was a two way radio.  He felt he had protected it significantly enough against radiation.  His initial plan was to sent a small rc powered vehicle into the wastelands to find what he was looking for, however he hadn''t found most of the materials he needed.  He still had an idea, however.

Moments later, Swain emerged from his underground hideout and handed the camera and radio to Eden, along with a small marked map.  By car, it would have been a full day''s travel, however, by foot it was another story.  He handed her a small bag filled with canned foods a bottled water.  It may have been enough to get her there, it may not, but she was certainly no human.  "The map will tell you to go, you''re looking for a book.  Keep the camera and radio on, so that I can confirm when you''ve found it."

“A book?” Eden looked over his facial reactions expecting the man to be joking. He was sending her on a mission to find some book. Not a weapon, not food, water, or anything useful…just…a book. But he was serious… Of course it had to be a certain book too not just any book. Men .. “…Fine.”

[center:37vf2vrj]*****[/center:37vf2vrj]

It had taken her a bit to leave Swain, or well a bit for them to argue. She had to of course show him the map, and figure out which direction north actually was. Eden was first to admit she had no sense of direction. The tunnels below ground in the lab had arrows and signs, and this desert was different. And the map…well she guessed it was helpful. The land marks weren’t really the same as it seemed this map was a little out dated. Of course informing Swain of this seemed to make him only more irritated.

Eden had already turned off the camera as it hung around her neck. She didn’t think there was a point in having it on while just walking to the site, and she didn’t want him to know how many times she got lost on the way to find the magical book of his. The radio was still on and hung loosely in the pocket of her vault uniform which was barely on her body. Next thing she needed to get was a weapon followed by new clothing. But now after a day and a half of straight walking the woman came to a stop. This had to be it there was no other explanation for how the world looked. Taking a breath she reached into her bag pulling out the canteen and taking a long drink while her blue eyes scanned the horizon although the bright sunlight in the area was causing the woman to squint.
The sun seemed amplified as it reflected off the surface of…the sand? No, it wasn’t just sand…sand didn’t reflect like this. It had been changed from sand to glass?

Eden had been traveling up and down various sand dunes. There had been nothing else in this place other than the random skeleton, or piece of buried rebar from a world long lost. The twenty year old didn’t even look human anymore as her body was covered in sweat, sand, and more sand. It had been hard enough keeping the camera clean of it.  But now Ahead of her the sand dunes had turned into glass aches, hills, mountains, waves, and spectrums of light. It was alluring, as sunlight pieced through the different arches of glass various rainbows and refracted light danced throughout the dead zone as if calling to her. No sign of life could been, or at least from this vantage point. It was first strangely beautiful thing that Eden had since she had been created. Little did she know that this beauty was the catalyst for the damanation of Africa It was now, a pretty trap for creatures ignorant of this world.

 It took the woman a moment to snap back to reality as she slipped the canteen back into her bag. Slowly Eden girl turned on the camera pointing it to the site before grabbing the 2 way radio. “Swain…I think I found this…ground zero…”

"Indeed you have."

The figure''s appearance was heralded by the amused snort of his camel as it trotted out from behind one of the last actual sand dunes bordering the glass sea of the Sahara. Despite being clad in voluminous white robes and a turban that worked together to conceal all of his features save his passionless gray eyes, his clear and fluid English made it clear he was no local Arab tribesman who had wandered into the dead zone. Perhaps just as curious was his beast of burden, clearly a mutant offshoot of what had once been a common ungulate; now, however, it sported three humps and a curious knack for parroting human language, not to mention intelligence unfitting of a lowly pack animal.

Its master hopped down onto the sand and led it towards Eden by the reins. As he closed in, it became apparent that an assortment of oil-stained canteens and waterskins dangled off his robes and satchel, joined by the digital camera hanging from his neck. "I would also recommend that you leave with all due haste. I don''t know what has brought you here, but the fact that you have not keeled over from radiation poisoning tells me you are precisely the type of being I was designed to eliminate."

Cyrus Marechera had not always been an unsympathetic guard patrolling the border of a lifeless wasteland. In fact, up until around five years ago, he had been one of the few humans to remain relatively sane and unchanged in the wake of a Val''garan-visited Earth. His job as a South African news anchor had continued as it always did. He reported on the world''s latest tragedy, hoped the media vampires would consider it a juicy enough morsel to sink their teeth into, and moved on to the next. Even the nuking of Dreadnaught in the Sahara had not overly affected him. All save the most distant and dislocated members of his family had escaped death in the conflict that ravaged the Earth, and South Africa had been one of the few countries to retain relative political stability in the chaos that ensued.

What had changed Cyrus'' life had not been the battle between galactic horrors of a scale beyond his mortal comprehension, or the fallout of nuclear bombardment, or even the paramilitary groups warring for control of what remained. His life had been changed forever by a simple car crash. Seeing his potential as he lingered in a near-death state, scientists had performed a tentative surgery to give him a fully cybernetic body. During the months of recovery that followed, they had installed an artificial intelligence in damaged sectors of his brain, also an example of the technology reverse-engineered from data left behind by the Red Technocracy. They sent him to patrol the desert and eliminate any undesirables, a task he performed dutifully if somewhat reluctantly.

Presently, he leveled a hand at the girl before him, fingertips folding back to reveal small extruding gun barrels. At the slightest implication of a threatening gesture, Cyrus was fully prepared to raise the amounts of tungsten and lead in her body by a thousandfold.

Swain pulled up a chair as he configured the frequency to the radio, put on a large pair of headphones, and mashed a few keys at the computer.  With a few simple keystrokes, the monitor buzzed to life, and he soon saw what Eden saw.  Ground Zero was magnificent from afar, the waves of crystal that clashed against each other resembled platters of glass lillipads stacked atop one another.  The metropolis of waves stood still in time, and was something one could marvel, even through the blurry lense of the camera.  Eden''s periodic dabbing of the lens was vexsome as it obstructed his view, but necessary.

As the opposing figure leveled his fingers.  Swain squinted as he picked up a pair of thick rimmed glasses from the table and unfolded them.  "Well, then..." he muttered to himself, "looks like the government has sent their dogs."

He pressed a button on the receiver as he pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose.  "Alright, listen to me, I want you to lose whoever that is.  He wants to stop you from reaching the book; we can''t have that."

Swain wheeled over to a shelf next to him and picked up a small pack of cigarettes, as he peeled open the top he lit one and let it sit at the edge of his computer table.  Which actually appeared to be more of a dirty workshop table than anything else.

Confusion would not begin to describe the half of what Eden was feeling. She had gone from thinking Swain was the only intelligent living being in the world, to meeting a mutated camel and its owner.  Though at first she was hardly intimidated by the man and his pet, when his fingers pulled backed to reveal gun barrels that was concerning. Although they wouldn’t stop her it was safe to assume he had more power behind him than just the bullets in his hand. Perhaps abandoning this mission would be for the best, but then again how long could he even last in the radiation field? But that one word he said hit her, designed; it meant that he was like her created for some other person’s purpose. But, worst off he seemed fine with following their orders.

Slowly Eden raised her hands in the air, “Ok, I’,m-.” It was then the two way radio sparked to life and Swain’s static filled voice echoed across the dead zone for anything that was living to hear it,

[i:35wbys25]“"Alright, listen to me, I want you to lose whoever that is. He wants to stop you from reaching the book; we can''t have that."[/i:35wbys25]

Eden just stood there for a moment, a little horrified, as the man’s voice echoed across the desert. He had just ruined any chance she had of being sneaky or of talking her way out of this. So, with no hesitation she ran towards the center of the dead zone fully expecting the weapon inside the other man to go off. The woman did make an attempt at zig sagging through the glass dunes, and she was running with an inhuman amount of speed although she was forced to drop her bag. It would be useless once the radiation hit the contents anyways. Already she could feel her skin starting to stick to her clothes as she ran deeper towards the center. Although she could not feel it the woman’s skin was beginning to bubble and boil from the effects of the radiation.

[i:2rw6kjdr]"Alright, listen to me, I want you to lose whoever that is. He wants to stop you from reaching the book; we can''t have that."[/i:2rw6kjdr]

Was that... Swain? Arentino Swain? And what book?

"Huh? Swain? What the hell?""

Cyrus and the reporter couldn''t be called close friends, but during one of his stints in eastern Africa before the bombs dropped, they had met and become acquainted over a period of a few years while working on Kenya''s tribal troubles. They had exchanged some notes, argued a bit, and drank a lot. It was hard not to crawl back to the bottle after spending enough time in one of the Earth''s real shitholes, and on the world''s list of worst places to be for any reason, Kenya couldn''t be far from the top. Of course, every country outside of Europe, North America and parts of Asia came in close behind nowadays.

The camel, Dambudzo, let out a hoarse guffaw. It recognized the name, having played peanut gallery for more than a few of Cyrus'' delirious rants as they wandered the dunes together, but more than that it found a great deal of sick pleasure in watching its master squirm. Its chortle transformed into a strained cry as the girl bolted off into the glass sea. Besides its duty carrying their rations and equipment, Dambudzo was also on clean-up duty for any unlucky fool that met his end in a liquid puddle of flesh and organs on the irradiated roller-skating rink behind them.

After recovering from his momentary shock, Cyrus fell in behind her, swearing profusely as his internal mechanisms registered a cruel dichotomy of the rising radiation levels in conjunction with their approach to Ground Zero. The void they chased each other in was barren and lifeless; his more acute instruments registered that even bacteria thrived in small populations, scattered across the shining waste of the Sahara. As he followed Eden, his linen robes dissolved around him, leaving behind the skintight mesh suit purchased by the South African government from Apollo Amon''s Ghost Ops.

His fingertips slid back into place. Mirrors lenses slid down over his eyes to protect the vulnerable fluids contained therein, and his artificial glands secreted a thin film that protected his soft epithelial layers from both the radiation and the high temperatures produced by the sun reflecting off the glassy terrain. He expected the girl to undergo similar transformations and betray herself for the cyborg she was, but even as her skin boiled and melted away from what lay beneath, she never stopped moving, or even seemed to pay it heed.

Clearly, conventional methods would not suffice.

His fingertips slid back into place, only for his entire wrist this time to dislocate itself and slide away, revealing a hollow arm. Before firing, he shouted in his steely voice, "Who are you? What are you doing here? Where is Swain and what is your relation to him?"

Without leaving time for a response, what appeared to be a blue glob emerged from his cannon appendage. It rapidly expanded into a small net designed to conform to its target''s size, as upon ensnaring its prey the tips would fuse back together and try to become a ball of slime once more. The substance constantly emitted an electric field that would temporarily scramble Eden''s systems if she proved to be a cybernetic, or merely deliver a strong paralyzing shock to her innards if she was some strange organic.

As he sped up in order to close the distance between them, he repeated, "Who are you? What are you doing here? Where is Swain...?"

Behind him, Dambudzo once more chuckled inanely as it ran towards him, mimicking him in its queer caricature of human speech, "Hoo aww yew? Wawt aw yew doowing heyah? Ware is Swannn?"

A plan had been formulating in her head. She needed to use this location to her advantage, and had hoped this person wouldn’t be able to follow her much futher. Sadly, she had been wrong…heck even the…um…camel...was following them. Clearly Swain wasn’t the only person in the world, or maybe the crazy man didn’t count robots as people. As she slid around the corner Eden noticed that the bottoms of her feet were becoming oddly slick as sections of her skin slid off leaving a blood gore trail behind her. Her clothes were beginning to warp growing tighter as they went deeper into the radiation field and unknown to her the red, tangled mess of hair atop her head was starting to fall out. Still, no reaction to amount of pain that she one should be enduring at that point.

As she went to turn the corner she heard her pursuer mention something about Swain, and in fact he even called the man by name. That was odd; she never said his name did she? The girl glanced down at the two way radio in her hand pressing the talk button, “Swain do you-oomph!” Suddenly, the ball of goo smacked her from behind causing Eden to do a summersault inside the ball of mess. Her body suddenly just stopped moving as she floated there blinking in surprise. Soon the sounds of sizzling sparks filled her ears as she looked down to the radio floating mere inches from her left hand. Reaching up she grabbed the device pressing the talk button, but nothing…it was dead. Another surge went off and oddly the girl found herself once again unable to move for a few seconds. Eden had never been able to not move her limbs before, but at least the moments didn’t last long. Now forced to move in a play, pause, play, pause, play, and yet again in pause, she looked down at the camera around her neck. The screen was black and pressing the buttons on it…did nothing. [i:t9i8adag]Shit...[/i:t9i8adag]

Turning around she saw the man behind her, his flesh was also melting off or a good portion of it. His clothes now also gone except for some strange suit he wore. He had some protection from this radiation, damn. Eden tried to slowly back up now growing a bit irritated by all the pausing her body had to take while trying to slip out of the bubble. The girl opened her mouth going to answer, but the goo easily slid its way into her mouth making her voice a mere gargle of words. Gah! Forget it! Forcing her way forward Eden swam out of the bubble pulling her upper half of her body out and away from Cyrus. Spitting out a mouth full of goo she yelled back, “I’m just here to get a book and then I’ll leave!” With a final push Eden full out of the bubble leaving her clothes, her hair, and a layer of her skin behind. The bloody mass of her former shell floated lazily behind her as the girl’s body worked on regenerating itself slowly forming a thin layer of putrid yellow skin over her exposed muscles. The radiation and the speed of her healing were clearly at odds with the other.

The half decayed girl turned quickly grabbing a blob of that goo knowing that maybe she could take out one of his weapons with it, if it still worked. “It’s a trade! Don’t you people trade up here?!” Maybe she could talk her way out of this now that the radio wasn’t on.

Swain watched as through the shaky camera as Eden bolted away from the inhuman.  He could do little to aid her from here--even adding perspective to her escape routes wasn''t really viable, the camera was worse than that old time movie [i:1iitgh76]Cloverfield[/i:1iitgh76] that he had seen so long ago.  Reminiscing on vintage movies made him mildly nostalgic, but he had little time for such things.  The camera wildly thrashed backwards as a large wave of blue slime impacted the camera, and a split second of tumbling occurred.  Then the screen went blank and the radio screeched before a loud popping sound was heard, then silence.  The journalists cigarette went limp in his mouth as he took off his glasses and wiped sweat away from his brow.  He pressed a button on the radio,

"Eden, do you read me? Eden."

He paused allowing her time to respond.

"Eden, do you read me? Eden."

There was still no response.

He began to feel frantic as he furiously clicked the mouse and went through routine keystrokes.  He worked through diagnostic menus to reestablish the link on his live camerafeed, but he was getting nothing.  It would tell him if the camera were off, usually, but there was no signal returning.  He continued to work on troubleshooting the camera, as the radio was a far more simple tool, but it was to no avail.  Something had shorted his camera feed.  He had spent years trying to find this book.  His life depended on it.  He [i:1iitgh76]had[/i:1iitgh76] to get it...  and he might''ve just lost his only opportunity.  Swain sat there, staring at the monitor screen, then let his cigarette drop.  It landed heavily and before it rebounded, Swain shrieked in rage, leaping up and clearing off most of a nearby desk.  He grabbed a shelf and tipped it over, and glass shattered as it smashed to the floor.  Screaming profanities abound he pounded his fists against the concrete wall.

In a moment of clarity provided by his rage he moved over and strange device he had rigged in his desperation.  They resembled two small RC helicopters mounted together with a metal bracket.  Swain burst open the door, and pushed the trapdoor to his hideout open.  This was his last stand, and probably his only hope.  Attached to the mount was two fairly sturdy RC choppers, a miniature mounted camera, a small, two-way radio, an extended life battery pack, numerous balloons, and an AK-40-fucking-7.  With great purpose and determination, Swain flipped the choppers to the "on" position, got a running start, and threw it off like he were flying a kite.

Then he went back into his hideout, he could control the chopper from his computer.  If he was lucky, Eden might still be alive when his drone got there.

He''d seen a couple mutants during his days patrolling Ground 0''s borders, some going on a pilgrimage into the wasteland to be with more of their kind, and others trying desperately to escape. Sometimes he saw the same mutants in both situations. A generation of freaks had been born after the nuclear holocaust, children of six arms and eight beady spider eyes, but he had never seen a creature like this. She struggled to escape his electroshock gel and actually managed to, at the cost of her decency, her hair and her flesh. Like a snake shedding its skin, she wriggled free of his trap, and already her body had begun to rebuild itself, regenerating with frightening alacrity, but the intense radiation had her new skin melting like tallow, dripping down only to build itself back up.

Meanwhile, her discarded husk began to evaporate. The flesh bubbled and burned and crinkled and writhed like a living thing, and a terrible odor of burnt hair and cooking flesh wafted through the still air. [i:1az5svab]This poor thing,[/i:1az5svab] Cyrus thought, [i:1az5svab]this helpless, hideous little creature. I should kill her now and put her out of her misery.[/i:1az5svab] Behind him, his steed whimpered pitifully at the sight. The gel itself bubbled and lost consistency, turning into a cerulean puddle that crackled with static.

Dambudzo''s fear didn''t stop his bad habit, however: "Wawt ez happunang? Wawt duzz sha wawnt?"

Cyrus had closed much of the distance between Eden and himself in those few precious seconds where she had been unable to move. Now he leveled an arm at her naked chest, just between her breasts. He didn''t know how potent her regeneration was, but a few of those massive shells would turn her into a clump of sinewy worms and liquefied guts. If she could recover from that, he would be impressed. His job description implied he shouldn''t have stopped to listen to her explanation, should have probably riddled her with holes then and there and let the sun cook what was left of her like an egg in a frying pan.

Still... that was Swain on the other end of the radio. He couldn''t have been more certain of it if the old reporter stood in front of him in the flesh and explained what the fuck was going on. What book could possibly be so important that he would send this pitiful thing, completely uncomprehending of the world around her, into ground zero to retrieve it? Worse, he wondered if maybe Swain had some hand in her creation... in turning her into this disturbing abomination of science, who stood impossibly before him. She should have been dead but there she stood, staring him down even as her body bubbled away around her. He didn''t even want to think how he would last if his suit and the membrane encasing his exposed flesh weren''t protecting him.

"Yes... we trade. But what are you doing trading with Arentino Swain? What book are you looking for and why is it so goddamn important? What [i:1az5svab]are[/i:1az5svab] you?" To accentuate his point, he had the massive scope of his arm-rifle extended slightly and focus even more acutely on the gir-- [i:1az5svab]thing[/i:1az5svab]''s torso.

"Wawt ezz happunang? Zyrush, ekshplain..."

"Shut the fuck [i:1az5svab]up[/i:1az5svab], Dambudzo, and maybe we''ll both find out."

Eden’s blue orbs focused between Cryus and this Dambudzo oddly curious about both of them, but she didn’t ask. From her training she knew that camels didn’t talk, and men didn’t have guns in their bodies, but then again girls didn’t regenerate like her. He said that he had a design, so he was much like her in some way. The camel…perhaps also like her? Created and not born. Engineered for an exact purpose, but theirs was to kill people like her. Big brother had been right about the surface dwellers, they were only after self-preservation. Or so it seemed… This Cyrus hadn’t fired his weapon into her yet, though he threatened to, and granted it was unlikely the gun fire would kill her, he seemed to think it would. It provided Eden with an advantage.

The girl looked from him down to his arm, or the barrel of his weapon tilting her head to the side as she spoke. “I don’t know.” She paused, “I don’t know what the book is. Swain was going to show me, but your broke his camera and his radio. I won’t be able to find it now.” The girl’s body continued to decay and rebuild in front of their eyes. Her skin would yellow, and then blacken as tumors formed on her body building up with puss filled cists before falling off her form and landing on the ground. Her finger nails were already shedding and peeling off then re-growing to repeat the process. And as the girl had been speaking Cyrus likely could notice that her teeth were starting to turn black from the radiation.

She took a step forward pressing his weapon further into her melting stomach with a stoic, blank look on her face. No reaction was shown to how much damage was being done to her body and there was little reaction to the pain. “I was designed like you to protect surface dwellers.” The woman stopped, choosing her words carefully, “I needed food and water…and Swain needed a book. I don’t know why it’s important to him, but apparently it is.” She took another breath, “He also told me that he’s the only human left. “ She paused, “I figured he would need protection if that’s true.” That and she didn’t want to be alone in the opposition against her family, but they didn’t need to know that. “Now, are you still going to shoot me?”

Inwardly, Cyrus grimaced at the grotesque freakshow before him. The girl bubbled and popped and crackled like a slab of fatty meat, blood ran, soft tissues boiled in their prison of flesh that melted like wax. Diagnostics systems the computer half of his brain were running became simulations, and simulations became realizations: assuming he could beat out her regeneration factor, it would probably take ungodly amounts of effort, and alone in this wasteland with a crippled machine body was not a position Cyrus wanted to find himself in.

Moreover, she knew Swain, and appeared to be on an errand for him. She did not seem hostile, either; to the contrary, she practically had been begging to avoid combat. Still, he pondered her question for a moment before answering, "No." He lowered his arm, but kept his weapon primed in silent threat.

"However, I am not going to let you continue on to ground zero alone. I will accompany you and find out just what is so interesting Swain sent a little girl out here to retrieve it. I assure you, however, that if Swain is in a good enough position to give you a camera and a radio, then there are others out here in this godforsaken hellhole that are in much greater need of your help. We humans are quite a virulent disease, and I assure you that the Earth is thoroughly infested with us." Under his breath he added, "Not sure if that''s a good thing or not anymore."

“It’s good for their kind…” Eden muttered quietly as she tried to hide her irritation.  The first surface dweller she came across he shot her, cursed at her, lied to her, and then sent the girl on an errand. Perhaps brother had been right about them? No, she couldn’t fault Swain too much.  The girl knew she was an oddity and something to be feared by the normal species. His lies must have been survival instinct kicking in, and well everyone did what they had to in order to survive. Staring at Cyrus with a blank expression was incapable of giving anything more Eden turned around.

“Fine, but I have no idea where to start.” The girl paused looking at the radio and camera in her hands before looking back at him. “Don’t you know how to fix your own pieces?” It seemed logical enough a as she walked up to him holding out the radio, “Here fix it for us and we can communicate with Swain.” He ought to be able to fix them shouldn’t he? Eden knew very little about fixing things, so he would be their only hope in this. “And, I’m not a little girl.” The girl took a breath, “I’m seven full years which makes me an adult.” The confidence in her words were astonding as Eden believed every word of it. It took them 3 full years to mature into an an aldut. According to their parents after that time they should have been ready for the real world and to intragrate into society. Unfortunately they had been wrong, but Eden was sure she was fine on her own. So far she had managed well enough. She hadn''t killed anyone since comming up to the surface and that was a good first step wasn''t it?

Swain stared at the monitor of the red baron with bloodshot eyes.  Thin tendrils of smoke coiled from a newly lit cigarette that hung loosely from between his lips.  His head lay in the palm of his head, and his elbow rested on the desk, with the fingers of his other hands drumming impatiently on the surface of the worktable.  He controlled the red baron via the computer, but it was mostly dull work.  He had almost a full day before he even would reach ground zero, so now it was simply a matter of playing the waiting game.  The desert sands whipped in view of the camera lens, and he adjusted the altitude to avoid some of the debris.  Then, he witnessed something.  Two mutants hunched over a corpse, one with a Quasimodo hunchback bearing a third arm that sprouted from the top of the hunch, with three joints and three fingers.  He stood bent over the cadaver, disemboweling it.  His brother was a much taller skinnier creature, bearing now arms, but a large, dislocated jaw with rows upon rows of serrated teeth.  Swain hated mutants.

The red baron hovered about several yards above the two mutants as the gorged upon the corpse.  It buzzed as Swain silently watched them from behind the lens of the camera.  The mutants seemed not to take too much interest upon them.  Swain smirked.  God, how he hated mutants.  He clicked the mouse once and the red baron lit up the two mutants with fire.  The small hovercraft bounced in a circle around the two mutants, barely able to handle the recoil of the gun, but it made little difference to the two mutants below, who were riddled with bullets.  Swain chuckled to himself as he saw the aftermath of his work.

"...Bitches," he spat.

He quickly moved on after taking some of his frustration out on the two.  It did little to satisfy him, but it was something.  He cursed himself, never in a million years had he expected the government to interfere with his search.  What horrible timing they had, as well.  Swain was not a good man.  Maybe at one point he had been, but not today, not anymore.

Cyrus regarded Eden impassively as she spouted her insanities. Already he felt he had almost pieced together her story. Back before the accident, he''d heard stories of hidden complexes built beneath the sands for survivors of the nuclear fallout... but beneath the happy veneer of a refuge for those displaced by disaster, he had heard darker stories of places where experiments were carried out on mutants and normals alike. If this girl stemmed from that unfortunate stock, her lack of common sense and strange abilities suddenly made a great deal more sense.

He''d been called a half-man, a [i:10hnaul6]synth[/i:10hnaul6], enough times that the insult held little meaning to him anymore. Even if he had been fresh off the conveyor belt he didn''t think he''d feel anger towards this pathetic creature so much as pity. He took the camera and the radio from her, depositing them in a pocket for the time being. "I am afraid you have much to learn about humans, girl. I''ll see what I can do about these later, but for the time being, I''m interested in putting as much distance between us and the border as we can before nightfall."

Nights in Africa had become even more cruel than before the crisis. Now, in contrast to the outrageous heat, when the stars came out a chill unlike any other fell upon the sands. Worse than that, however, mutants came crawling out of the woodwork like cockroaches once they could do so without roasting to death.

Something else was troubling Cyrus, however. In truth, his nanobots could probably fix Swain''s equipment rather easily, once they adapted to the outdated technology. He wasn''t yet ready for their reacquainting, however. He needed more time to question the girl and ruminate a little on Swain''s motives. He hadn''t heard anything about the man since he had departed Kenya over a decade ago, and something about this situation struck Cyrus as deeply wrong. He wondered what had happened to Swain, but he required more information before he could confront him. After all, what was a journalist without his sources?

As he approached and scrutinized the girl, he realized he needed to do something to protect her from the radiation. Though she didn''t notice, it seemed to slowly be eating away at her body, or at least destroying it as quickly as her strange powers could regenerate. He''d seen grisly deaths out there on the African wastes, but he would rather prefer a traveling companion that [i:10hnaul6]didn''t[/i:10hnaul6] look like she had just flown through a meat-grinder. He produced a small cylinder and handed it to her.

"Place this on your body somewhere and it will release a membrane protecting you from the radiation. In the mean time... wev''e got a ways to go. Tell me more about yourself, girl. For starters, what''s your name? And where exactly do you come from?" She seemed to think that humans dwelling on the surface of the planet was a strange concept to grapple with, further reinforcing his theory that she had come from one of the chthonic vaults he had read about.

Behind him, Dambudzo trotted along amicably, echoing him with a "Warr eksucktly dew yew cawwmm frawwm... gewrl?" He gave a contented snort, as if he was pleased with himself for adding the word.

[i:10hnaul6]God, I need a new fucking camel,[/i:10hnaul6] Cyrus thought to himself sourly.

There was a look of annoyance on her face as he did not do exactly what she had asked of him. If he was so curious about Swain then why not just speak with him? She hardly knew the human and couldn’t tell Cyrus anything solid about him. Looking from Cyrus to the cylinder in her hand she noted that all of her clothing was well…gone. So instead she searched for a makeshift spot to keep the item, “I don’t know why you just don’t fix those and speak with Swain if you’re so curious about him. The only things I’ve learned about him are that he is paranoid, rude, and a liar. I haven’t determined if the man is intelligent or not.” Pausing she noticed a loose flap off flesh hanging off her stomach. Reaching down she ripped the wound open more going to slid the metal container into the small hole before creating another hole on the other skin of the skin. It was as if she just gave herself a piercing on the flat of her stomach.

The cylinder reacted to her body cracking some as the thin blue-grey liquid membrane released itself covering her form. As it did, Eden’s body quickly pieced itself back together and held form. Within a manner of seconds the once decaying creature was again a teenager looking no older than 18. Her skin was fresh and brand new as if it was from a newborn’s, and her skin was incredible pale. All of her finger nails, teeth, eyelashes, and her even her long dark red hair were back into place. The only thing that was missing from the time she entered the glasslands was her gear and her clothing. She smiled to herself glad to not have to deal with the mess of her decaying form.  Well, in a way she owed the other man, the girl guessed. “Thank you…”

The girl went to turn around waiting for the cyborg and his camel to take the lead before she started walking. “It’s Eden. I’m not sure you really want to know the rest. My home is destroyed now. I was created in one of the underground research facilities in this country. Ours was Number 37. I couldn’t tell you where it was unless I had a map. I have a bad sense of direction on the surface.” She gave him a half smile hoping to leave her beginnings at just that, but the man seemed to be of a curious nature. “Why are you so interested in this Swain?”

Swain snarled as he put his seventh filter-burnt cigarette into the ashtray.  There was one thing that he hated was he hated waiting.  Especially considering the circumstances.  He had some mild fun slaughtering the mutants, but that felt like hours ago.  Instead, now he was simply staring at the monitor of the Red Baron whilst occasionally trying to reprogram Eden''s radio.  He never got anything.  He didn''t expect to.  Whatever had happened had shorted out the other end of the two way transmitter.  And if they were still even there when his drone got there he would be the luckiest son of a bitch in the world right now.  Well... maybe except for Apollo.  And America.  Err.. what [i:sxi28szq]used to be[/i:sxi28szq] America.  Apollo bailed them out.  So what was it, now?  Apollica? Amerimon?  Why wouldn''t anyone bail [i:sxi28szq]him[/i:sxi28szq] out.

Yeah.  America was fucking lucky.  Swain wasn''t.  Swain had decided to come to this hellhole to find a good story, but really he should have focused right back at home where the real story had come from.  A single man bailing an entire country out of debt.  How the hell did Apollo get so rich, anyways?  That''s such bullshit.  Apollo''s probably relaxing in his mansion with a harem right now while Swain is damned to this shit-forsaken desert, left by the rest of the world to die.  What were they so scared of?  I mean, sure, radiation was harmful, but it didn''t do a bit of harm to Swain.  He didn''t have any extra or missing appendages and felt mostly sane.  Didn''t they have treatments for radiation poisoning anyways?

What rotten luck.

"God, when am I ever going to get there," he said aloud. "I really should have salvaged that impala.  It might''ve even had a turbo in it.  The red baron would have probably gotten there by now with a turbo in it." He considered.

He found himself having many conversations with himself like this over the past few months.  The desert was not only an extremely dangerous place, but it was also an extremely lonely place.

Well, hopefully the book would change that.

And make Swain rich.

Or it would end the world as everyone knew it.

Eh, 50/50, the worlds already gone to Hell, anyways.

"I knew him, I believe. Emphasis on [i:3jqd28td]knew[/i:3jqd28td], because the Swain you''ve described is different from any I''ve known." His pupils flexed as his gaze transfixed on something far beyond sight. "The wasteland does terrible things to good men, better men than Swain, at least." Something told Cyrus he wouldn''t be getting any more information out of Eden. That left him with two options: wait and hope to put Swain behind him forever, or fix the radio and attempt communication.

He gave a cursory glance to Eden. The girl was perfect for a greedy man''s manipulations, being ignorant of the surface world. It would be child''s play to take advantage of her, especially for a driven man, and Swain had never been anything if not driven... He found himself wondering why fate had intertwined their destinies again, and under such cruel circumstances. As if his body had made its decision without waiting for his mind to parse the logic behind it, his hands mechanically fished the ruined radio out of his pocket and opened microscopic holes in the epithelial layer, out of which coursed a thin stream of silver slime.

The gray mucus took hold on the device immediately. The digital connection in his mind relaying commands to the nanobots en masse also made him distantly aware of their actions; in some capacity, he could feel them repairing the damage to the wires on the inside of the gadget. He felt the tingle of electricity through his whole body when they finished their work and felt apprehension grab his bowels in its claw.

"I''ve fixed the radio," he said, handing it towards Eden. "I don''t know what frequency you''ve been using to talk to Swain, so you''ll have to spark the conversation, I''m afraid."

[i:9njk1pjv]Several Hours Later[/i:9njk1pjv]

Swain''s scout was closing in on the area where he assumed the two to be.  Or at least where he had plotted she would have been from their last transmission.  He was an irritated mess, having had to wait for so long to see if all his ambitions had went up into flames or not.  There were many a dull hours spent drumming his fingers, smoking cigarettes, and cursing to himself.

The irritating high pitch whir of the drone was likely not to take them by surprise.  But if subtlety weren''t completely out the window yet, Swain would make sure he riddled it with bullets and spat on its corpse with what he was about to do, next.  An old school record player sat right beside his work bench half-buried in assorted discs, scrap, and trash.  He brushed it off and looked at it for a moment fondly before inserting a vinyl record atop it and adjust the arm.  The old contraption spun to life and music soon broadcasted over his two way radio he had attached to the gun-toting balloon covered RC helicopter duo, dubbed "The Red Baron".

"The Ride of the Valkyries" blared over the amplified radio speaker as the red baron precipitously sped up.  The music echoed across the barren landscape with all the glory of a live orchestra, and swain''s verbal accompaniment of each beat.  "GIVE ME MY BOOK!!" Swain shouted over the loudspeaker before a hail of bullets, wildly inaccurate, sprayed from the AK-47 attached, and caused the Red Baron to bob, twist and bounce violently from recoil.  Swain''s psychotic laughter could be heard on the other end, "EDEN! ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?! OF COURSE YOU ARE." He shouted, rhetorically, having shot her once before to absolutely no effect.

That, and the cyborg was obviously trying to bar his passage for some reason, so he had little reason not to shoot first and ask questions later.  What harm could it cause?

There had been a sigh of relief when the radio had been finally fixed, but there was the issue of the frequency. Had he told her what it was? Maybe, but her memory was a little fuzzy on the how event? Perhaps it had something to do with radiation, or the fact the girl had been quite distraction with the cyborg officer and the talking camel.  That and she had no clue how to work a radio of any sort. Thus began her process of turning dials hoping to catch the sound of Swain’s incoherent blabbering’s…but instead there was only static.

After about an hour of flipping through radio channels before she suggested they continue heading north while she continued to attempt to reach Swain. The hours passed the unlikely trio by in silence, or it did until…a odd noise echoed across the desert. The sound made the girl stop as she turned back, seeing something over the horizon. Music was not something given to the children of the underground. She would guess the strange repetitive sounds were something more of a surface thing used for communication. It seemed her theory was correct because in fact in the distance she could hear Swain’s crazed demands echoing over the loudspeakers that were connected to the tiny airborne object bobbing and weaving in the wind. The girl arched a brow watching the machine before looking over at Cyrus, “I think he found-“ The downpour of bullets cascading all around them caused the girl to stop speaking as she fell to the ground.

Covering her head Eden would wait until after the fun would stop firing before answering him, “Stop it or I won’t help you!” The girl wouldn''t lift up her head just yet as she laid there naked in the dirt. Waiting a few seconds to make sure he wouldn''t start firing at her again the girl continued, “I found one of your friends!”

As the bullets whizzed by Eden had quickly, and wisely fallen prone, covering herself.  It wasn''t necessary, Swain was sure she would have survived, but the hijacker of his plans was not so fortunate.  The Red Baron''s hail of bullets were wildly inaccurate, but nevertheless pelted the cyborg, piercing his exoskeleton on impact.  The situation likely came as such a shock that he didn''t have any time to react to such an abrupt onslaught.  He was still certainly alive, and he slithered off bracing himself against his camel before quickly throwing himself across Dambuduzo''s back in a hasty retreat.  "Whawt ish gowin awhn?" Dambduzo crowed as he scampered off, and his broken English could be heard for some time after, until the two disappeared.

Not long after only the sounds of the red baron''s humming RC motors were left.  Swain cleared his throat as he set his cigarette down on his ash tray, and looked at Eden, who was still prone, through his camera lens.  "I don''t know who that was, but he wasn''t a friend of mine.  He just cost me a lot of time, and almost FUCKED [b]EVERYTHING[/b] UP!"

"So if he was a friend, he isn''t anymore.  N''that''s if he lives, heh.  Anyways, there are more important things to get to," Swain said, greedily wringing his fingers, "like getting that book.  Do you still have the map?"

Personally, Swain preferred a more hand''s on approach.  He hoped ground zero wouldn''t interfere with the radio transmissions, otherwise the Red Baron would go down, and Eden would be left on her own.  She had a map, though, barring any more cyborgs or mutants, she should be just fine.