Tech's Story

[...continuing from sample]

There wasn't time for perfection, though haphazard was Bostons flavour to heavy situations, he reacted to his surrounded position. Hands still bound he loosed Tech's instrument to floor; what appeared defeat actually diverted the bandits attention enough for Boston to smack his fists into one man's skull and yank him in front of his own body in time for Nat, (or Gun as he attempted to claim) to fire a round into Bostons new meat shield.

"You shot Biscuit!" Cried the assailant in angered shock towards Nat. Boston exploited the man's confusion chucking the injured bandit onto him and lifting up Techs instrument again.
There was twang suddenly as the weapon was wrenched from Bostons grasp, Nat had fired again and time disappeared as Boston ducked behind the cart narrowly missing a spray of bullets. "Grrr, I'm having you!" Nat fired furiously but there was a click. There was another click. "Darn it!" Nat smacked at his rifle, which appeared to be jammed.

"Only give promises you know you can keep!" Retorted Boston, who had since used the metal jagged pipe from the second bandit to release the blood stained ropes that had been coveting his wrists and in that moment lifted himself up to fully launch the bludgeon at Nat. There was yet another click, this time of the barrel kicking out a defective bullet. Nat's eyes met Bostons milliseconds before the pipe penetrated Nat's mouth, leaving him draining out, toothless and pretty much without a good portion of lips; the rifle fired off the last couple of rounds on the floor by Nat's twitching fingers.

The squashed bandit, still trapped beneath Biscuit came to in time for his own weapon, a long sickle, to be driven into his head. That just left Tech to deal with. "Argh!" Boston suddenly fell sharply to a knee, only then realizing the gash above his hip. He sat back against the cart, and stared at his wound deciding against applying a blood soaked, sweat drenched cloth. There was no "good" solider, Boston knew that. It was luck pure and simple, every time. This time he'd just not been as lucky and he'd have to pay for that. Bostons eyes anchored and the flickering lights above began to dim. Now the adrenaline was leaving Boston wounds encumbered him, passing out.

Sore light soaked through into Bostons eyes as they licked open. "Argh!" Boston yelped, startled as a crude liquid was poured over his stomach; the liquid logically contained alcohol but it could easily have been paint stripper. "Wasn't the plan NOT to wake me again?" Boston complained as he clutched his wound, realizing Tech was tending to him.

"Now now, lets not jump the gun," Tech jittered, "I'm not really a fighter, you may have noticed. I need you now as much as you need me." The goggled man unveiled bright white cloth from his persons and attempted to wrap it around Boston.

"I'm not you're boyfriend, I can dress my wounds myself," Boston exclaimed flicking Tech's fidgety fingers away. "I won't be easy to eat on my feet, so if you're trying to save me for later I'd think of something else." muttered Boston after lashing the cloth quite rough around his waist. "And which unfortunate did you eat and "acquire" this off?" indicating to his new dress wound which was now quite firmly in place. Tech ignored the stab at him instead chose to sit next to dead Biscuit. "Are you...?" Boston began as Tech lowered his scarf and bit into Biscuits arm. He had to admire the "waste not" attitude instilled in the cannibal but that was where the admiration started and stopped.

Reaching out to the left, Boston grabbed the bottle Tech had used previously to disinfect his side tear with and poured a gentle stream over each wrist. The liquid stung and left a burning sensation behind; looking at the bottle Boston saw that it actually was paint stripper. Tech had meanwhile had his fill of Biscuit and was proceeding to cut up parts and package them in a pack he'd taken from the cart. Ignoring Tech, Boston gingerly lifted himself against the cart and saw that his jacket and Beethoven were there. It was time to move on Boston thought.

"You're not in a mountain," Tech absently spoke as he'd finished ravaging the four other bandits. "No, we're beneath some town... catacombs, that's what they call them," Tech was rambling more than trying to inform. Boston vaguely recollected reaching a wooden paneled house but his head still pulsed from the altercation earlier. He figured these tunnels must adjoin a good few houses.

"Well if you're done looting, parts and otherwise, we'll part ways." Boston said jolting as he snapped his nose back into place. A life for a life seemed fair.

"You can't...That is, please don't leave me," Tech pleaded, "I was in a bad place with those guys but I can be better." Tech lifted his glasses up revealing a blue and a green eye. "I'm useful too, they don't call me Tech for grins, it's not a funny name" Tech babbled nervously working up a case for himself. It was a disgusting thing, to see a man fall so low; cannibalism was something Boston hadn't advocated but he knew a lot risked it in the pandemic as food was short, he couldn't however stand a guy falling to pieces like that.

"Look, understand I'm not your babysitter," Boston began already regretting the compassion he was bestowing on Tech, "You try killing anyone who isn't killing us - you and I will have problems.. Yes your bandit friends are fine to eat." Boston shook his head, why was this a good idea? Clearly it wasn't but there'd been enough death today already.
Both men continued past the cart and along the catacomb, Beethoven strapped to Bostons back. Boston began humming Louis Armstong's "You Rascal You" (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jM9Q4LNVdk) as they walked, descending past the flickering orange and yellow gas lights into darkness.

Charlie stood at the bottom of the highway, staring at it, terrified it might collapse at any moment. Charlie had made a run to the grocery store before he had left. He wasn't that stupid to leave unprepared. He mainly had been in the camping section, getting a very nice back-pack, a rope, shoe-laces, a water bottle, medicine, a bag of cheesy popcorn, an Exact-O-Knife (made for cutting cardboard, not stabbing), and most importantly a flashlight.

Charlie made sure the helmet to his suit was screwed on tightly before he gingerly tapped his foot onto the highway. It didn't make a sound or a move, so he pressed his weight down. Still nothing, so he slowly stepped onto it fully, and when he was sure it seemed safe, he began to slowly walk up the road.

About 45 minutes passed by until he reached his problem. There was a section of the highway that had broken off, leaving about a five foot gap between this part of the highway and the next. Charlie bit his lip. "I think I can jump," he reassured himself, backing up. He took off with a running start and leaped across, slamming into the next part of the highway, causing the elevated road to shake just a bit. "Holy crap," he whispered, terrified. But, the bridge-like highway quickly stilled, sending him carefully on his way.

An hour or so later, Charlie saw a sign saying the exit was just up ahead, the second one he had seen that day. He quickly crossed over into the exiting lane and walked down the ramp that curved down onto a road. The road stretched out past his line of sight, along it a few fast food places, restaurants, and gas stations, but mainly houses. It seemed like a ghost town- no one was there. Charlie stopped and crossed his arms. It wasn't like he had expected a big sign reading "CATACOMBS HERE, CHARLIE!", but a the old Loonie could have been more specific. Grumpily, he began making his way down the street, for he had come too far to turn back, plus the fact he was terrified of the highway.

Charlie wasn't very far down the road when he noticed a house that looked like it had just recently been broken into, for the lights were on in one of the rooms. Charlie got a horrible feeling that this was his "CATACOMBS HERE, CHARLIE!" sign. He bit his lip, conflicted. He could go in, listen to the man who was possibly insane, or run back to the grocery store. He hated to even think it was possible, but what if the guy was sane and he really was trying to save Charlie?

"Darn it, Charlie," he cursed himself as he headed onto the porch of the house. Very quietly, he grabbed the handle of the door, which he found was unlocked, and turned it, giving the door a gentle nudge that made a squeaking sound. He bit his lip. If anyone was in the house, Charlie was pretty much dead. But, no one attacked him, so he curiously looked around. It looked like whoever had robbed the house wasn't after supplies, because when he searched the kitchen pantries were full of food. But, Charlie was, so he stuffed a bag of cookies, some almonds, and some honey into his bag. He pulled out a fork and a butterknife from the drawer for self defense, but he still rather had the Exact-O-Knife for a weapon than those, so he put them back. Then, a bright idea hit him as he quietly tiptoed upstairs into the master bedroom. He searched the room, desperately, but his searched turned up empty. There were no guns in the house and he was almost sure of it. Why would there be? The family living here would have taken it, if not the looters.

Before Charlie went downstairs, he nabbed some deodorant, shampoo, and body wash from the bathroom. He couldn't remember the last time he was able to take a shower, so if he found some way to relieve himself of stench, he would willingly.

Hurrying back downstairs, his search for some sort of catacombs a failure, he was about to leave. He was walking down the hallway to the door, when he tripped on a loose floor board. On further observation, the board was downright out of place, overlapping another. He wedged his fingers under the loose board and pulled, a small hole in the floor revealed to him. It was pitch black, so Charlie pulled out his new flashlight and shone it down into the dark, revealing it was about a six foot drop. He gulped. The catacombs were real. He had been praying they weren't, but here they were. Charlie remembered the tales of catacombs in the ancient city Paris, skulls hung everywhere like they were decorations. They were practically homes for the dead. And if any child believes in monsters in their closets and under their beds, this would have been their worst nightmare.

"You're an idiot," he told himself, about two seconds before he leaped down into the hole, crashing into the darkness.

The catacombs had been twisting and branching in many directions; visible light had ended a fair while back. "Do you even know where we're going? I'm sure this isn't the way back," Boston questioned reaching out with his left arm to tunnels wall. (THAT doesn't feel like a wall...)

"I call that one tasty," Tech said jovially as Boston withdrew his hand from wall.

"It's a skeleton, isn't it?" Boston dryly replied. Tech nodded, unphased. Boston could see Tech was far more interested in the divergence ahead. Tech's mind was busy contemplating which road led where and Boston could see he had an idea of where he wanted to go, he was just struggling. "You know this safe spot can wait, I hardly doubt we'll run into anyone down here, understand?" Boston reasoned slowing his pace but Tech shook his head.

"No it's not far, I'm pretty sure," Tech assured, disappearing left.

The catacombs were almost completely silent, the only noises being drips of water and the almost silent squishes of Charlie's wet shoes. The catacombs were a bit wet, Charlie guessing it had finally decided to rain above.

Charlie's flashlight did it's best to illuminate the path in front of him, but Charlie wasn't sure he even wanted to see it. Bones and skulls decorated the tunnels like it was Christmas. Some of the bones were full skeletons, expressions of horror on their decayed faces. Some of the skeletons even still had some skin on them, obviously having been dead for not too long. After his experience in the shoe stores, he almost expected one to reach out and grab him. This is why his Exact-O-Knife was so tightly gripped in his left hand, his flashlight in his right.

All of a sudden, a noise came from down the tunnel. Charlie stopped in his tracks, going completely silent. He quickly realized they were voices. He quickly shut off his flashlight and shuffled into a corner, his whole body beginning to shake in terror. The voices seemed to get louder. They were coming towards him.

"It's a skeleton, isn't it?" he heard, his heart almost skipping a beat. The voice continued. "You know this safe spot can wait, I hardly doubt we'll run into anyone down here, understand?" He wished that was true.

A voice replied, but Charlie wasn't paying attention anymore. He was racking his brain, trying to imagine what to do. He figured he would wait until they passed, hoping they didn't have a flashlight to spot him with, and he would continue the other way once they had gone by. Charlie figured it was the best plan, but he couldn't control his shaky hands, making the batteries in the flashlight shake, causing a very subtle chattering noise. He needed to put it in his pack, for if he was heard who knew how many times over he would be dead. He, slowly began to stuff his flashlight in a side pocket in the bag, but his grip loosened and the flashlight slipped from his hand.

Thump.

Charlie closed his eyes. Darn it, he thought.

[[OCC: Use the posts on Rowan as a compainion to this post]]
My ribs stung. Is this what it feels like to be run over? What happ- ah dinner was playing hard to get. I looked around and the sight probably should've surprised me or atleast stirred some kind of emotion. My stomach rumbled. He didn't come out too far worse, I noted seeing what was supposed to be my next meal bleeding in a pile.

It didn't take much time to realise what I was going to do and easily started to grab stuff off the bodies not completely aware of the process. It seemed to jostle dinner when I poured the contents of the tin on him. "Wasn't the plan NOT to wake me again?", he complained, clutching his wound.

That was, I briefly thought, but now it wasn't "Now now, lets not jump the gun," I stumbled, "I'm not really a fighter, you may have noticed. I need you now as much as you need me". Shaking again, still so strange. I unwrapped a cloth that I was wearing and attempted to wrap it around dinner.

"I'm not you're boyfriend, I can dress my wounds myself," he exclaimed flicking my fingers away. "I won't be easy to eat on my feet, so if you're trying to save me for later I'd think of something else", he muttered, after lashing the cloth roughly around his waist. "And which unfortunate did you eat and "acquire" this off?", indicating to his new dress wound which was now quite firmly in place.

I wasn't really listening to the suvivor. one job done, next and more importantly. Hello my chubby friend. "Are you...?", the suvivor began as I sat next to biscuit and lowering my scarf and biting into Biscuits arm. Be the shame of armies to let you waste. Blood trickled down my cheeks. Think I'll keep you, 'buddy'. My hands gingerly portioning my once comrade into edible sizes for later.

Finshing unburdening the rest of the deceased crew I absently started towards the survivor, "You're not in mountain. No, we're beneath some town... catacombs, that's what they call them". I think we can make it to her. I paused

"Well if you're done looting, parts and otherwise, we'll part ways", the suvivor stated.

He's planning to leave me! This may take some work. "You can't...That is, please don't leave me", I pleaded, "I was in a bad place with those guys but I can be better." I lifted my green glasses up revealing a blue and a green eye. "I'm useful too, they don't call me Tech for grins, it's not a funny name", I explained as I involentarily shook, Twitching, think that it's my body responding because I don't feel like panicking.

"Look, understand I'm not your babysitter," The suvivor began already agreeing, "You try killing anyone who isn't killing us - you and I will have problems.. Yes your bandit friends are fine to eat." he shook his head. We continued past the cart and along the catacomb, that strange saw strapped to Bostons? he talked alot back, and he began to hum a bizzare song as we walked, descending past the flickering orange and yellow gas lights into darkness.

---

The catacombs had been twisting and branching in many directions; visible light had ended a fair while back but I knew where we where, I won't forget again. "Do you even know where we're going? I'm sure this isn't the way back," Boston questioned reaching out with his left arm to tunnels wall.

"I call that one tasty," I said jovially as Boston withdrew his hand from wall. It's nice to see friends getting along.

"It's a skeleton, isn't it?" Boston dryly replied. I nodded, unphased. We had reach the fork, Left is a good option, Right almost equally so, it depends but I really think its time to do that. I ramble even in my head sometimes. "You know this safe spot can wait, I hardly doubt we'll run into anyone down here, understand?" Boston was mumbling to himself again and slowing his pace. Can't get good help these days.

"No it's not far, I'm pretty sure," Tech assured, disappearing left. The lair had more salt, I'll need more.

---

Turning the corner I stopped. This isn't the way I reassessed my thoughts but came up empty, what had gone wrong? Insted of being on track for the lair, ahead was that beauty of a buggy, abanonded and in disrepair. Strange. Still this would've been my second choice. I had been saving pieces up for a while now and jerked up to Johnny, the skeleton wearing a pack. Thanks for the a-ssist. Huh, Boston was gone. A frown almost crossed my face but I continued onto the dirlect buggy, dragging Johnny behind leaving a small cloud of dust trailing behind. It's play time. I unzipped the bag dropping much of the supplies on the floor and started working, Johnny was smiling.

Thump.

Definitely not rats Boston summarized as options raced through his head. I could yell out to Tech but there's no guarantee Tech would hear or side with me, no telling how many of his "pals" remained. Besides... that'd expose my position. Boston pressed to the wall, annoyed with his loosely aligned companion. Slowly Boston raised his hand over his shoulder stirring Beethoven from its sleep.

The problem that plagued Boston was direction, ahead or behind? Tech was liable to be more a hindrance than help, though Boston half mused the idea of using him as bait. To bad he's ghosted on me. Boston lowered himself Beethoven still to hand, the buzz axe hadn't much action of late. With his left hand he felt the floor beneath, stopping when they met a smallish stone. Throwing the stone low towards Tech Boston stepped quietly closer to the source of the disturbance; adrenaline alerting his senses.

Boston stopped. Laboured breathing? The situation wasn't adding up in Bostons mind, and a bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. Bandits don't stalk and when they chance upon strangers, they attack, not withdraw... Boston lowered his weapon, loosening his grip on the wound fabric handle. "Hey! Not foe," Boston cleared raising himself up, "Not a Bandit."

What are you doing!? Boston thought to himself. The soldier in him hated his decision but it resigned, Boston never was a good solider.

Stillness ensued followed by retreating movement. Boston lent back against the the wall. "It's over," he sighed repelling himself from the wall when he realized he'd been leaning against "Tasty" again. Boston shivered and rotated towards the tunnel Tech had disappeared down, "Creepy cannibals, speaking of..." Now where'd Tech g... Boston's mind cut off when felt something sharp against his back. It was too late. His hand clenched around Beethoven's pommel but it was still lowered to his side, it was no use.

It was no use.

"Hey! Not foe," one called, probably to the others. He felt relief that they had probably figured he wasn't going to attack. "Not a Bandit." Charlie didn't speak, not even knowing what to do. He was to terrified. "Creepy cannibals, speaking of..."

Charlie felt worse. Cannibals? He was in tunnels with cannibals? He could feel his grip on the Exact-O-Knife tighten. He was in catacombs with Loonies who ate other people. That stupid old man, sending him here, promising it would save him. That man really had sent him to his death. He decided he had to act or else he'd be just like the skeletons, left to die, possibly eaten alive. He slowly and silently pulled off his shoes, their squishing noise in the wet of the catacombs too loud. He silently walked through the tunnel, a small figure with his back turned to him catching his eye. This was his time to act, if any. He crept up, and stuck the Exact-O-Knife to the figure's back. He didn't dare touch whoever it was, fearing they could have... it... But what was he planning to do? Hurt him? Charlie knew he didn't have the guts to do that. But, he had tipped over a shelf on a man, crushing him. Maybe he was underestimating himself.

"Who are you?" he asked, his voice quivering, obviously sounding scared. "What are you doing down here- are you alone?"

Charlie pushed the knife closer to his back, the tip of it coming as close as it could get to pressing into the man's skin. If it had been lighter, the guy would have noticed the knife was small and puny, not capable of doing any real damage, but in the dark he hoped it was deceiving. Either way, he was probably dead unless he hit him upside the head with his flashlight, which he had left on the ground. Yep... he was in a very sticky situation.

Gulp.

"Easy," Boston exclaimed, dropping Beethoven and raising his arms, "I'm Boston." There really wasn't a reason why he was down here, except of course to be a meal. "Now lets think about this..." Boston began but he was interrupted by a clash of light and bursting glass; exploiting the momentary confusion Boston leapt forward impulsively rolling sideways after he hit the floor. Boston started laughing.

"A pen knife!" A tear rolled down Bostons cheek, "I was almost diced by a safety knife?!" The stranger looked paralyzed at first but a smirk soon grew across his face and he chuckled. Boston sat smattered in dirt, hunched and smiling. He held himself with an arm wrapped around his stomach, his stunt had caused his wound to reopen in part but he did have more pressing matters.

It looked as though in this part of the tunnel old electrics were in place, though damp had set in and the complete circuit had blown. The pieces of wire left shot out low light infrequently and Boston saw his would-be assassin for the first time. Bold Boston thought, attacking with a bluff. But the true surprise was that the assailant wasn't a man, just a gaunt boy... whose longish brown waves stuck against his face. Boston was surprised to say the least, Was he in a haz-mat suit?

"You deserve to know I'm not alone" Boston confided, "Though he's a passage or so away." Boston didn't know what would happen if Tech was introduced. Tech wasn't the outward aggressor but he did seem the opportunist and that was what plagued Boston. "He's not the "normal" type, just to warn you."

Boston no longer felt in immanent danger, "So tell me about yourself kid, what's your name? And how on earth did you get in these godforsaken tunnels?"

"Easy, I'm Boston. Now lets think about this..."the man said, right before an explosion of light filled the tunnels. Charlie held his arm up, the sudden illumination momentary blinding him. The man rolled away, and Charlie knew he should probably panic, but he was discombobulated. It took until his eyes were adjusted for him to realize the man was facing him now, laughing. Why was he laughing?! Charlie was almost angry, more terrified, but he understood once the man spoke. "A pen knife! I was almost diced by a safety knife?!" He stood, frozen, but finally smirked. Maybe he really should have gone with the fork.

Charlie finally got to look at the man he attacked, and the man seemed to be observing him too. This guy was tall and muscular. Charlie liked it better in the dark when he hadn't seen how small that Charlie was compared to him. He liked it better when he could have been the bigger person.

"You deserve to know I'm not alone, though he's a passage or so away. He's not the 'normal' type, just to warn you." Charlie nodded, although he was still quite afraid. The guy, Boston's, companion was what he assumed was the cannibal. Lovely. "So tell me about yourself, kid, what's your name? And how on earth did you get in these godforsaken tunnels?" Charlie cleared his throat, although he didn't feel quite safe around the man.

"I'm Charlie," he said, not adding anything else, ignoring the man's other question. He didn't feel like talking about the old man who had instructed him to find the catacombs. He realized he still had his knife gripped in his hand. On another occasion, he would have put it back in his pack, but he kept it in his hand. "So how do I know you and your buddy aren't gonna eat me or something like that?" he said, deciding now to let the man know he had heard the part about cannibals.

The boy responded "I'm Charlie," but left the questions hanging. Defiant eyes locked Bostons, "So how do I know you and your buddy aren't gonna eat me or something like that?" Though the words came out shaky.

"Astute, I have to say," Boston tilted his head, "Not much slips past you." Boston hadn't made any inclination he was about to move and he hadn't even glanced towards Beethoven, who had been abandoned a foot or so from Charlie's feet. "These catacombs are a bandits nest from what I can figure," Boston explained thinking it through, "I was captured... some time recently, but I fought." He looked down at his stomach, the bleeding had slowed. "I wasn't fast enough apparently," Boston breathed.

Don't, not there, that's "tasty". Boston saw the kid lean back against the wall. The kid must have noticed Bostons expression because he turned, saw and shot away stumbling. "The bandits were... are cannibals, I didn't actually mange to kill them all - one survived when I succumbed to my wounds." It was quite a lot to re-tell Boston sat thinking but he did need to make this kid feel at comfortable enough to at least break off his love affair with the toy weapon.

Charlie pulled himself up, sitting a fair distance from Boston and still clasping the flimsy Exact-O-Knife. "Do you always go into a fight with THAT equipped?" Boston questioned sarcastically, "It's better than nothing I'll grant you but you must have stumbled across a variety of different weapons enroute? Ones that could actually DO damage."

"Anyway..." Boston moved on, "This one bandit - who is the cannibal I mentioned when you were ease dropping by the way - chose to aid me instead of exacting his revenge; I can't say why but something tells me this guy cares more about his next meal than camaraderie." Boston let the words sink in. He clicked his neck. "He's called Tech. He'd probably want to eat you, but then he thought I was dinner to begin with too... in fact I'm sure that hasn't changed." There was a lot said there and so Boston gave Charlie a minute to process.

I'll have to credit him on his reluctance to trust, it goes along way when surviving

Boston leant forward and pushed against his knees, propping himself up, "I don't think Tech should be left to his own devises for too long in any case, it's been long enough as it is," Boston resigned but then his eyebrow lifted, "Wanna meet a cannibal?"

The guy had to be what Charlie called a "Loonie". His story was almost believable, but Charlie was still uncomfortable, especially with his last phrase. Plus the fact he had made fun of the Exact-O-Knife. What did he have to fight with, his bare han-

Clink.

Charlie looked town to see his sock covered foot nudge the handle of a giant ax. Oh gosh, how had he not noticed that? He looked up at Boston. "Is this yours?" he asked. He couldn't help but smile. "If you like my weapon so much, how about we trade 'cause your sure looks nice too." No, Charlie wasn't going to take his weapon. He wouldn't know how to use it. But, he picked it up anyway, his body being yanked down at the weight, sending him staggering forward, his socks landing in a puddle and getting soaked. He stuck his knife in the pocket to his suit and positioned it so that it was resting on the ground, but Charlie still had a firm grip on it.

"I'll make you a deal," he said. "Since I don't know you aren't making all of this crap up and aren't going to have my face for an evening snack, I'll keep this until you make sure you and your friend are going to leave me alone." Heck, why was he even agreeing to go with him in the first place. But, Charlie knew he couldn't carry the ax and Boston probably could, considering it was his. Boston could follow him if he tried to leave and kill him. Charlie wasn't sure he was prepared for escape yet. Especially not after he had just got word that the catacombs were infested with cannibals.

"Do we have a deal?"

The buggy looked out of place amongst the filth and skulls, like it was from another planet. Purr for me my beautiful alien I sat in the driver’s seat my spirits soaring, then dropped my face rag Time to party. The old buggy had been restored and modified, I wasn't even sure to how far I had gone with it, I kind of got carried away but it was a work of art. Parts of an ancient game boy were worked into the bumper. Now it'll play my games. Throttling, I punched through the wall of the catacomb, it's architecture as different from the rest of the place as the buggy was. We landed into some kind of dilapidated racing circuit. She's home, but she doesn't want to stay any longer. I took the buggy for a lap avoiding the various hazards and then headed for the way out: a spiralling ramp leading to a rusted iron grate. She can handle it, you'll not keep her caged!. I was lost, the vehicle seemed to be driving me. Charging we punched through the confinement and straight through a blurring warehouse and then out onto a decaying road. We're free Johnny There was a kind of goofy smiled attached to my face as the crazy endeavour wore off and the adrenaline might've faded yet in the distance shone a light. Look, food. As we drove over the uneven road the skeleton seemed to nod, I took that as agreement.

[[OCC: An idea of the buggy.]]

"I'll make you a deal," he said. "Since I don't know you aren't making all of this crap up and aren't going to have my face for an evening snack, I'll keep this until you make sure you and your friend are going to leave me alone." Charlie stated unused to Beethoven's weight, "Do we have a deal?"

Boston patted his dress wound down fastening it with greater pressure, it stung but he felt more mobile. Boston raised his head at the question, "Ha, I have to say your proposal is more a relief than imposition, be careful though, Beethoven's a fickle creature," Boston indicated to the blade; he sighed circling, Now where was Tech?

Boston made his way haltingly left, and down the passage; it was longer than he anticipated. The wall on his right was caved slightly inwards, and drag marks left a trail. What's that bandit up to? Boston thought, conscious that Charlie was following close behind and liable to see the same signs.

"Just to make things clear, I am not this guys keeper," Boston mentioned, failing to face Charlie who was trailing behind. Boston lowered his head shaking, though still moving. It's truly not been my week Boston reflected, and I need to acquire an iron, this wound cripples me...

A roar could be heard close by, and carbon fumes tainted the air. "That is NOT good kid," Boston remarked, hobbling faster to lighter, nosier opening. Boston froze. The opening was a room full of all sorts mechanical parts and scavengable trinkets; though the word "safe" did not describe the place. The back opened out further into what looked like underground racer tracks.

The worst part, the part that stunned Boston, was the rattling raging buggy, shooting off into the distance. It was clearly Tech. "-------," Boston breathed, just as Charlie appeared; both gazing at the dot being devoured by darkness.

A cool breeze penetrated the chamber; the opening was obviously Tech's doing. A rag fluttered by, greasy and bloodied.

Charlie watched as Boston got up. Where was he going? Boston vanished down the tunnel. He gulped. If Charlie had ever had an escape chance, it was now, but he was curious. Dragging the ax, what had been referred to as "Beethoven", he followed the direction and quickly caught up with him. He was staring at the wall, and Charlie quickly realized they were drag marks. He hoped they had been made a long time ago and were just permanent scars to the wall, not the cannibal that they had been lost, but what Boston said next quickly sent that hope running for their money.

"Just to make things clear, I am not this guys keeper," Boston said, turning to face Charlie.

"Then why do you keep him around if you don't agree with... eating people?" Charlie asked, but was drowned out by a roar from deeper in the tunnel. Boston said something, but Charlie wasn't paying attention. Where had that roar came from?

Boston quickly hobbled further out of Charlie's view and he began to drag Beethoven again, but eventually dropped the ax. He hurried to find Boston. Charlie noticed a small dot getting smaller and smaller. Was it some type of flying car? They had those a lot before the Touch.

"How do you get one of... those down here?" he thought aloud, watching until the small dot of light vanished. He looked over at Boston, who looked quite frustrated. Charlie crossed his arms, assuming this was quite a problem. "Just a wild guess, but I assume that was your cannibal, right?"

Before the girl had a chance to answer, all the lights suddenly snapped off in The Dome, leaving everyone in the dark. The roar that had once been busy streets went silent. Everyone was confused. Luckily, back up generators kicked on, street lamps giving the dark a small bit of illumination.

"What's going on?" people cried. Sobs echoed through the streets. Everyone knew something horrible was happening. Torex looked around. He knew this wasn't supposed to happen.

"Do not panic," a woman's voice over a loudspeaker system that was wired into The Dome said. "Do not panic. Do not panic. Do not panic." She repeated it over and over on some kind of endless loop. What was this?

Suddenly a bang came from above everyone. The Dome had to be broken, because they could see a person on top of it, banging on the glass with their fist. They had many attacks before, but why was this one doing so much damage? A scream came as his answer, from far away in The Dome but his robotic hearing senses could make it out.

"They're getting in!"

The "Do not panic" loop stopped. People began to wonder if it was over. They began to exhale again, feeling safe.

"Panic. Panic. Panic." The loop restarted, but differently, sending people screaming and running. The people on the outside were getting IN.

Torex looked down at the girl once again. "So, do you know where the Robot Preservation and Defense Center is?" he asked once again, hardly sounding panicked. He was a robot. It felt like the apocalypse, but he wasn't in danger of dying. He wasn't afraid for himself in the least bit.

[[OCC: Catching up from where I left off]]

I wiped the blood from my jaw with a kitchen towel and stuffed it into the pocket of a balding man slumped over the table. "Nice talking with you Jack", I grinned, turning my eyes away from his lifeless posterior and to the female, her blood still pooling on the tables surface. I grabbed her arm and waved it in circles, "No! Please! I have children.. eat them first", I mocked with a smile, letting it coldly splash into the collecting pool. So kind to offer me their hospitality.

I left the table having finished my meal It's only good manners, and proceeded to follow the smears of blood decorating the hallway. I caught a glimpse of Johnny, still riding shotgun, glaring in jealousy And you said they would be no fun. The stairs remembered my visit, squelching involuntarily and creaked with distaste; the landing told a similar story, but I ignored its loathing. I found the children asleep where I had "tucked them in"; a "split" style room, blue and boyish one side, neon pink the other. Hate to split a family up Bringing a cleaver down onto the boy's leg, I began to refill my depleted supplies.

I was almost done when the front door erupted, a wild voice rang out for the family and quickly realised the deteriorating state. "Oh my goodness", the stranger gasped accompanied by what sounded like a gun cocking. Last time I trust Johnny with lookout.

I had devoured the family with little effort; starved of company, they let me in without even noticing the wreck of a person I was travelling with. I'm sure Johnny wouldn't have received the same level of hospitality anyway. Still, it seems the reason they survived that long has returned. An idea crossed my mind, but the odds seemed to be against me I suppose the family need someone to cheer them up, best leave him to them.

I relocated to the previous bedroom overlooking the stairs leaving the barely identifiable brother and sister in pieces Don't worry, part of you will always be with me, the flesh wept. The man clumsily climbed the stairs and seemed to lose his voice when he reached the children's bedroom hearing an audible thud. I slipped out and down the stairs smoothly Catch you next time.

Turning the engine on, I began to reverse out; a madness stared straight at me from one of the windows That's right I was grinning but that faded as the gun shots painted the buggy with holes. "Are you crazy?!", I screamed, I had just fixed this beautiful beast up! Another shot and I came to my senses, making my escape.

---

[[OCC: A bit later on]]

I felt bad for Johnny, he wasn't looking so good. The bullet holes made him look upset, "Next time don't be a hero", I lectured, he never listened but he seemed to almost pout. The sun was high, highlighting my blood stained my clothing, it was hard to tell it had come from different people, harder to see still was mine slowly darkening one of the sleeves. The bullet had gone straight through and the wound was already starting to heal, but I felt drowsy.

I noticed a mansion up ahead, it seemed good enough for a kip. I got out and disabled the security system on the gate. Steering up the winding driveway I parked past cars and round the side near what looked like the kitchen Let's see what's cooking. I was just about done with the electronic lock when I heard the front doors go and the sound of two women giddily talking to each other. I stopped to peer round the corner as they got into one of the cars and drove rapidly away. Johnny was laughing at me "We're done", I coldly state, pinning Johnny against the wall, "You are dead weight and terrible friend". I push Johnny away from me unable to bear his company, I hear a "crack", but enter the mansion without sparing him a thought.

I made my way through the elaborate rooms paying them little attention and was about to head upstairs when I heard a low moan. I paced the stairs to find no door but the moan turned to familiar mumbling. I pressed my face up against the panels and a cold draft caressed my face. Someone's hiding I wasn't in the mood for food but I couldn't rest while there was people around. My arm sent me dizzying signals; I'm gonna need a hand for this I shook my head and headed for the buggy.

The boards came free with little encouragement, Johnny's arm beginning in fray from the strain It's nice he could lend me a hand, even though we're not on speaking terms. The skeletal arm finally splintered as I levered the concealed trap door out of its decades of dust Think he’ll forgive me?. A cast iron spiral staircase posed for me as I scratched my back with Johnny’s arm, the sharp edge slicing me Ow, guess he doesn’t. The mutterings continued, and continued also to elude my memory so I proceeded down, eager to jog it.

I’m not the hero type so my presence is mixed luck, but I suppose on this occasion any luck is better than none. The spoilt was leaning over Boston and I was about to watch him suffer the slow death, however I didn’t stop. I’m not one to engage death, survival is a strong instinct but before I knew what I was doing the bone I was holding flew out of my hand and into the wounded creature. As it fell back a few steps gurgling at the bone sticking out of its neck, I grabbed Boston and began hauling him up the staircase.

I piled the boards over the trap door, barring it firmly in place. It wasn’t an easy climb but the spoilt seemed to have trouble climbing due to its various wounds. “Not you”, Boston smirked painfully.

“Yeah, well. See… I was in the neighbourhood… and I’m in the market for a new driving buddy”, I explained as Boston passed out.

I managed to get him into one of the bedrooms upstairs and I almost collapsed on the notebook covered floor next to him, myself feeling weak now the adrenaline was wearing off. I curled around noticing the sun wasn’t bringing warmth to the compensating mansion and that little hairs on my blood caked arms were starting to raise. I set about gathering the papers from the floor and was delighted to find a compartment just lying open, revealing a store of notebooks, it was as if the mansion wanted me to be warm; and I lit the papers.

Charlie was lost- mentally and physically. He seemed oblivious to all of his surroundings, but luckily had gained some composure and could walk straight. He guessed he had a concussion or something along those lines, for he couldn't hardly remember his name, nor what the heck was going on. As he walked, he noticed the gates to a very large mansion open, the security somehow disabled. Charlie noticed some cars inside- could he drive? He couldn't remember if he ever had before, but it might be a faster way to get around. So, he quietly pulled the unlocked gate open, listening as it made a horrible rusty squeaking noise the more he moved it. When it was enough for him to enter, he stepped through and slowly pulled it back into place. He hurried to the cars, examining them, but noticed a giant buggy. It was much bigger than the other cars. It might be of use... For some reason Charlie felt like it was supposed to ring a bell, but he didn't remember it, so he eagerly pulled the car open, finding it was unlocked. He was quite lucky. He hopped in and shut the door. The key wasn't in the ignition.

"Do you know how to hot-wire a car, Chuckie?" he asked himself, as if he was going to answer himself. "Wait, I think it's Charlie. Charlie, Chuckie, same difference." He shrugged it off, as if not knowing his own name was normal. He slid down into the bottom of the buggy and grabbed his Exact-O-Knife. He pushed the knife between the wheel and the column, then pushed the locking pin away from the wheel. He quickly put the knife against the metal spokes and the engine roared the life. He smiled. "Chuckie, you're a genius, even if you can't remember a single stinkin' thing."

Charlie quickly drove away in the buggy, crashing through the unlocked gate and driving toward the chaos around The Dome. His headache had reduced a lot, so he finally was coming to his senses, although he still must have taken some blow to the head. He didn't even notice that somewhere along the way he had lost the helmet to his hazmat suit. He was a wreck, but at least he was a wreck with a ride.

The passage blurred a tinge and the figure neared, arms outstretching."What ever happened to courting?" Boston sighed his mind employing some grand rescue scene where the occupants above save his life in the eleventh hour. I'm starting to hear my delusions now. The ceiling above exploded; beams lit up and Boston shielded himself, lifting his arms in front of his eyes.

The monster relented its pursuit, it had - Is that hand? - something sticking out of her neck. Boston's arm was tugged at, he was helped up the stairs. It can't be... "Not... you..." Boston smirked, looking at the human meat machine Tech, manning the rescue. Tech's words faded incoherently as Boston passed out, exhausted.

.

A tight gasp brought Boston to, spluttering. His eyes were watering in clouds of dark ash and breathing was near impossible. It was night out but the house was alight. The whole place is going up Boston realized, Curtains pirouetted to ash, desks crumbled, bookshelves and their contents incinerated. Rolling down and out Boston crawled; a wooden beam fell, breaking the bed he previously occupied.

At the stairs Boston sat momentarily, spying a book as its cover and pages curled to the whims of the heat and many more already mistress to the flames. The downstairs was as damned as the the floors above. This is beyond hell's control.

A smell of melting flesh rancified the air. Well I didn't save myself... Boston exclaimed to himself and honed into the sickly burning fumes. A leg stuck out of the room Boston had previously just crawled out of, crisping intensely. How could I have missed that?, he thought and flung his jacket over the leg. Pulling the unconscious cannibal down stairs, Boston made it to the door. He is going to have one killer headache when he awakes, Boston mused... "That's twice you've almost killed me for no reason!"

The handle was hot and the rooms were filling up with black smoke, Boston booted down door and it unhinged, already half-melted. Lifting Tech up Boston escaped, not a moment after the house spat out waves of fire and glass, breaking in on itself as the fire consumed it all.

Boston sat down after laying Tech out. It seems only his leg was burnt but it was quite bad there wasn't much Boston could do. I'm going to regret this, Boston closed his eyes removing his sprite. The can hissed and popped as he punctured the top and the contents fizzed up attempting a breakout. Boston poured it on Tech's wound, stopping momentarily to have sip before emptying the rest on Tech. Tech twitched. "I hope you aren't dreaming of leg right now... that'd be seriously messed up," Boston mocked and a smile grew on Tech's injured face. "You can be real creepy at times, Halloween creepy..." Boston exhaled coughing a little, and lying back on the grass to enjoy the bonfire.

The new order had come in. Glued to my worktop I started assembling it, modifying it, piece by piece. There was a strange satisfaction as the tools and components I required all found themselves to be within my reach, it’s like it was meant to be. My finished work lay under a tarp as celebrating suits entered, though it felt as if I’d only just started. “You’ve done it this time”, the finest dressed of them all announced “This model will render all others obsolete”. It’s unique.

We stepped through the workshop entrance where they had come from, still in high moods, directly into a restaurant. This was an extremely fancy place, tactful floating lights with spacious booths; we climbed onto our beds gingerly and the others seemed to dissolve away. My order arrived on an automated silver platter and I drew the seductive smell towards me, laying down I lifted the dish to reveal my own leg.

I snapped awake, my dreams fleeing from my head. For a moment I was lost, I didn’t remember how I got here. Boston, fire. I sat up and upon doing so realised the pain Ahhhhhhhhh. I was screaming in my head and I’m sure I was twitching to match. “Easy there easy bake”, a calm voice pandered “Who taught you how to play with fire anyway?”.

It took a few minutes for my breathing to slowly draw closer its regular rhythm, and Boston continued to use his words to no effect, the pain wasn’t lessening but I was getting used to it. I didn’t remember falling asleep, though I had similarly fallen asleep working on other projects before. I stared at my leg, it didn’t look like mine anymore I wonder what it tastes like. The clothing had been completely destroyed just past the knee and the revealed skin looked deep red and crispy, I wasn’t about to attempt getting up. My foot in comparison looked promising, the thick boots I was wearing seemed to have protected at least that much, though the area where it joined the clothing looked challenging.

Seeing as I was in no hurry to move I relaxed a bit, my eyes eventually reaching the mansion. Well I mean the rubble. What used to be an enormous and stately building was now left a piled of charred beams, ankle high brickwork and glowing embers; the warmth was actually quite cosy. I scanned around for my buggy, my mind already preparing for the worst, when I encountered the empty space. Well to say it was empty was a misdirection, it had plenty of burning ashes there, but nothing reminiscing the salvaged beauty.

“Did you move it”, I questioned Boston, still staring at the vacant space.

I felt his eyes on me, “Huh? You? Of course, your welcome”, he proclaimed boldly.

“My buggy”, I replied dryly, motioning towards where it used to be with an arm wincing at the stab of pain from both my leg and shoulder I’d forgotten about you too.

“No idea, nothing there when I carried you out”, I replied. He continued talking but I wasn’t listening again.

The absence of my ride gave me purpose and I lifted myself up, much to the protests of Boston... and to my own roaring regret, but I was standing. Bending my knee had delivered a new degree of pain and yet my resolve didn’t budge. I was a survivor, I needed supplies. I think Boston was helping me, I couldn’t really tell through the pain, but I hobbled towards the gate; away from the empty parking spaces.

It took a great deal of time, trying not to use my handicapped leg and keeping it straight. The pain wasn’t subsiding and I was beginning to struggle under the stress of moving. I’m sure Boston was still talking but I couldn’t hear him over my own thoughts, he probably wanted to give me a break but I couldn’t stop. We reached the overbearing gate and made our way out and to the nearest vehicle. Not the latest model but the Travillion Alpha X4 could move… I limped to the vehicle reaching for its front, the side glowed a slight blue and slid away leaving me to tinker shortly if its restrictor is removed; I tossed it on the ground .

The rear door dissolved away as I climbed in and I painfully manoeuvred in, resting on the seats as it folded back into a more mattress like shape. “Let’s get out of here”, I told Boston, though I wasn’t even looking in his direction.

“I think you won’t be going anywhere”, a tortured voice shrieked as I heard him cock his gun. I tilted my head back to see the crazy guy from that wonderfully hospitable home the other day. I kinda deserve this I grinned.