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Snippet #2411041

located in America, a part of Touch, one of the many universes on RPG.




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Character Portrait: Rowan "Boston" Alder
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Boston strolled along the perimeter of the collapsed museum, hands tucked in each pocket. He was contemplating hard on their next move, and it pained him. There's no longer any impromptu about our situation, I'm not a strategist! He exhaled deeply and rubbed his temples.
"We have a problem," Amelia spoke as Boston reached her, "Whilst it's avoided any real cosmetic damage the circuitry's fried and we haven't the parts or skill to repair it."
"We're on foot then," Boston replied without hesitation.
"Where are heading?" Amelia questioned clutching her briefcase and stepping away from the car. Boston lowered himself so that his heels lifted from the floor.
"I don't know," he gazed at the floor, "The only two choices that make sense are either a trek to the dome or an investigation of the next nearest generator...only that would confirm our theory." Boston realized he was staring at rock he'd picked up in his hand whilst outlaying their options and dropped it, regaining his height.
"The next generator I think; it could answer a lot for us." Amelia decided, reaching into her briefcase.
"...Or it could just be a pile of rubble." Boston replied, and it was clear Tech's departure was taking it's toll on him.
"That's where you're wrong," Amelia presented Boston with a file, "These are calculations I've been working on. From the generators final readings I can extrapolate that the extra power didn't sieve through the northern generator, which means..."
"... The place still stands, or had before your terminal blew." Boston finished, realizing that if the building stood or not would give them a clear picture as to the extent of damage the dome and it's power was receiving. " You don't have to trust me but I want it stated that I have stakes in keeping the dome standing," Boston blurted out.
"I know what you are Rowan," Amelia replied, "We should move."
"A lot of ground to cover, you're right." Boston turned and Amelia kept pace. "North you say?"
"Northern. So close." Amelia teased and let drop her lab coat to the dirt. "It'll get ruined in this dusty road anyway; white never stays clean." she commented. She now only wore a green vest along with her black combats, Suitable.

Turning at a junction northerly the buildings soon dissipated until all that was left were the cruel barrens, and harsh sun. Even the road had ceased its campaign. Night was crawling in fast and they hadn't discussed where they were stopping, in fact few words had been exchanged; Boston had been unusually quiet. "Do you think we can shelter soon?" Amelia exclaimed whilst dragging behind. With the silence broken Boston snapped to.
"Oh, right." Boston had completely lost focus and it took him a moment to regain himself and slow his rapid inhalations. He stilled. "There isn't immediate cover here, we could press on..." Boston weighed the options.
"...No! it wouldn't make sense to continue," Amelia interrupted, "There'd be no guarantee shelter would surface." Boston thought on this. Amelia's right. What am I thinking? He sat down and outstretched his legs, Amelia moved closer and sat on her knees.
"Something isn't right." Amelia looked inquisitively at Boston.
"...I didn't prepare the journey properly, I'm sorry, I'm usually better... Boston began apologetically but he was swaying slightly.
"No..." Amelia stopped him, "You're delirious, and..." She leaned forward and felt his forehead. Amelia's skin was cooling. "You have a fever, sunstroke I bet."
"You know I prefer to wait until the second date before I get diagnosed," Boston chuckled before lying back and slowly fading into unconsciousness, the last moments fluttered for him with shrieks of "Rowan" and fragments of the doctor leaning close and pulling at him.