Tech's Story

Boston sat lazily in the grass as the morning sun rose. The sizzled lump beside him stirred."Easy there, easy bake," Boston pandered calmly, "Who taught you how to play with fire anyway?"

Tech spent a moment separating his mind from the physical pain; Boston had noticed Tech had zoned out to his attempt to convey the situation, "So, you're burnt, luckily it's not a game changer but still it'll take time before movement is advisable. The gates will protect us for a while no doubt if we can get the security running; which has your deviance written all over it..." Boston continued.

“Did you move it?” Tech questioned, looking dazed at an empty space.

Boston stared at Tech, Is he referring to himself in the third person AND objectifying.. “Huh? You? Of course, your welcome," Boston remarked assuming Tech was just being senile.

“My buggy," was Tech's mono-toned response, holding his arm up back to the space.

“No idea, nothing there when I carried you out”, Boston answered, "But a little gratitude goes a long way, why I'm hauling ass for you..." Boston complained. Tech began shuffling into a stand. "What? So now the fire's burnt your ears too? You're three quarters of a kebab!" But either Tech was ignoring or it just didn't register. Boston saw the blue perch sitting not far, "You think you can get that working? With out a print por.....t," he trailed off, halting. Movement. One block down. A shadow blurred

Boston left Tech ambling, and ducked down crawling along the perimeter. The verge kept him hidden, though it's branches latched on clawing. I need a shirt... The stranger pushed against the rattling gate, 2-barrel hanging down in his hand.

Boston had slowly raised himself out and behind a trunk. The stranger looked fixated on the mess, ripping out car parts. It was the first moment Boston truly missed having a large sickle to hand, Beethoven...

Tech managed to penetrate the cars holo door, Boston was impressed to see, We're not staying then Boston thought exactly when he heard , “Let’s get out of here," being lazily tossed by Tech. He's distracted, he doesn't see. Boston had since crept round, silently pressing his feet against the grass.

“I think you won’t be going anywhere”, the stranger shrieked as he pulled up his gun cocking it. Is Tech grinning? Boston stood firmly behind and thrust out grabbing the man's head. It was over in a snap, the lifeless body dropping to floor. Tech was still grinning.

"I guess I didn't deserve it," Tech quibbed.

"It's not your first encounter with him...was it?" Boston frowned. Looking at the heap.

"No, I had dinner with his family; stocked up." Tech smirked, before a stabbing pain flared and distracted him.

"I ought to have left you to him..." I shook, disgusted at Tech. Is there anything human in there... besides what he's eaten. Boston stood, closing his eyes.

"There's a nice shirt there," Tech offered and Boston's eyes snapped open looking down. The dead man did have a nice shirt.

"We better roll," Boston shot a look at Tech throwing in the shotgun to him and straddling the drivers seat. "This time. I'm the driver, and no... you can't eat him." Boston grimaced, "The embers will deal with him, fairly." The engine roared. This model was meant to be uncrackable...

Reversing out of the drive was smooth and as Boston swerved the car around out into the road; the pile of rubble and fire back at the house flared a little, the man being devoured. "It should have been you; this isn't happening again, Tech." Boston spoke seriously, focused on the flames. Boston stepped on the pedal, moving the stick into second, third then fourth, speeding away; Gears... Boston reveled. A blast ruined the moment, jostling the car. "TECH!" Boston shouted, ears temporarily deafened and fully enraged.

The car now held a gaping hole in its roof, courtesy of Tech's fidgeting hap-hazard trigger fingers. "Sunroof. Accident" Tech replied wide eyed and covered in a powderized form of the roof. It's going to be a long ride...

Boston moved the car into fifth, the seemingly raring to life. "No restrictor..." Boston breathed as the car reached past 100mph and raising. Tech hoisted himself up through his home made sunroof.

"Floating and fired!" Tech bellowed, resisting the air. At this point it's hard to tell if he's talking about the hover car or himself...

[[OCC: Sorry for the wait]]

The man’s head lay twisted in horror, I couldn’t help but continue to grin at his expression. "I guess I didn't deserve it”, I quipped, admiring Boston’s handiwork.

"It's not your first encounter with him...was it?" Boston frowned. Looking at the pile of meat.

"No, I had dinner with his family; stocked up", I smirked. Pain flared up and my face mocked the failed agent of vengeance for a moment. Grawrrrr.

"I ought to have left you to him...", Boston threatened, throwing a disgusted look in my direction.

"There's a nice shirt there," I offered, changing the subject. Boston looked down thoughtfully and paused before acquiring a new shirt. He seemed to calm down after that.

"We better roll," Boston announced throwing the shotgun to me as he took the driver’s seat. I started for the failed assassin, but Boston intercepted my plans. "This time I’m the driver, and no... you can't eat him." Boston lead. The engine roared. You’re not shy, I smiled at the new vehicle.

Boston seemed like a virgin, handling the car cautiously, but I wasn’t in any state to take over. My mind drifted as my hands found something metallic, I twitched. The next thing I realise the sun is beaming down onto my face with a spray of what seemed to be… blue glitter? "Wreck!", Boston yelled... I think?

"Sunroof. Accident", I mused, still dazed from the effects and covered in a thin layer of snow like roof. The car lurched forward gaining speed as Boston began to talk to himself, or me, but I wasn’t paying attention, I was climbing up through my new gun hatch. "Floating and fired!", I shouted, the air meeting my will.

We were cruising away from the larger houses now and the older ones started to come into view. I couldn’t see if there were people about so I just imagined they were there. Like shooting ducks on a freeway. The shotgun clicked empty as the previous shots fell behind, I was about to drop it down through the hole but we swerved and it flew out of my hands, it was gone.

He could’ve been shouting at me but it was hard to hear anything with the wind in my ears. I banged the roof above his head and slid down. “Light on ahead”, I pointed eagerly

“Hold on a minute where’s the shotgun?”, he glared.

“There, light”, I repeated deflecting the question.

He gave up with the shotgun, it was obviously better out of my hands. “What? The museum?”, Boston looked doubtful, yet he slowed down, “What would be in there but skeletons and dust?”. He must have noticed the light then because he started to head for the entrance.

I sprang for the car door but it held firm… for a sec and then I found myself eating pavement. arrgfhfgfhd. I had forgotten about my seared leg and it wouldn’t bend as I kept attempting to stand. Boston casually lifted himself out of the car, turned four steps and lifted me up like I was made of cardboard. “Easy there crispy”, he mocked but his eyes betrayed the light-hearted tone. It seemed I didn’t quite understand my casualty and the pain just another annoying voice fighting for attention.

I hobbled up the steps one step at a time as Boston glided up, he was already scanning more distant windows as I reached the door. “Care to take a crack at the security system”, He asked, “I could easily break in but let’s be nice”. I like it, kill them quietly. I mused for a second then turned towards the keypad. I shook and barely managed to stay standing as my other leg almost buckled, the strain starting to take effect. I griped the wall with one hand and began searching my pouches for tools Quiet leg, I need think.

The door slid open automatically as the frayed panel dangled, exposed. Boston held his palm out and I stood confused. He seemed to think I knew what he wanted as he crept through the lobby and surveyed the area. 21st century perseveration hall. I didn’t recall what century it was, but I guess it was after that. “What are you doing?”, Boston whispered violently, “I told you to wait!”. So that’s what he meant. I decided responding was too much effort and I slumped down to the floor, against the reception desk.

He had that look again, but before I could place it he moved off behind the desk and began rummaging. A green shiny case with a pale glowing cross slid across the floor, open and empty. He huffed with dissapointment and turned around to discover a woman standing across from him on the marble like steps, wielding something bizarre. It appeared silver, but was streaked with neon green and started to make a noise. It’s charging I noted as I drifted off into sweet nothing.

Crash

Glass dispersed as Boston leapt through a display, and shards sank into each of his crossed forearms. Grounded, he etched up a glance, speeding down a darkened hallway; his heart charging his body. The hall echoed with the thunder of destruction following and he turned his head briefly to see Amelia's worn emeralds staring back; she was keeping pace but her breathing sharpened, No time.

The door was ahead, a faint glow revealed the valve lock and in moments Bostons hands were enveloping the handle and turning. Quicker. Quicker. Amelia pried at the edge of the door with a hands, whilst her shouldered briefcase slapped against the opening. "Get in!" Boston shouted, "Unless you prefer being human toast!"

The passage ways roared as a barrage of heat blasted through the museum, incinerating relics and melting glass cabinets. The overhead lights burst as Boston eyed the pursing furnace and he grimaced, sweat steaming off his clothes. "Rowan!" Amelia shouted. Melting, and all I can think of is "after sun" lotion...

The flames devoured the front side.

[Previously...]

"Tech! I swear if you don't get inside the car I'm driving towards a low bridge!" Boston yelled, but Tech was outstretched enjoying the wind battling his body. The old town had long since been swept behind and a "new" - in terms of exploration - settlement had began to appear. It looked smaller, like a village or a hamlet and Boston slowed so that the buildings looked less like smears at the speed they had been traversing at.

The sun had clearly burnt this area of town and dust kicked up everywhere, buildings look vacant. Safety, Boston's first thought was. "Light..." came a muffled banging from above. Boston arched his head forward again and noticed the grand building ahead. No safety... Boston sighed.

Boston turned back to see Tech had slid back to his position, attempting to lick his wound. "Hold on a... where's the shotgun?" Boston glared.

“There, light”, Tech repeated. It was hard to tell if he was deflecting or completely incoherently distractable. Boston turned away, stupid hick probably threw it out during the drive...

Boston pulled up to the buildings entrance, "What? The museum? Boston scanned, "What would be in there by skeletons and dust?" But he hesitated spotting a small illumination. The car door vaporized and Boston stepped out, wary. Tech had managed to fumble out but with his injury ended up eating concrete. Rescuing him from his disjointed obscenities Boston lifted Tech to his feet, "Easy there crispy," he chuckled but Boston's eye caught a shadow move across the inside of building.

“Care to take a crack at the security system”, Boston asked in a hushed voice, “I could easily break in but let’s be nice." Tech seemed to understand the caution and nodded, turning around to face the keypad. Boston hugged the wall and peered into the building, it looked deserted bar the faint illumination from the left. In his peripherals, Boston could make out Tech stealing through his tool pouch, struggling at his feet. He's going to be a liability...

A small bleep activated the door and it gracefully slid open. Boston pushed his hand out, Wait, and entered, lowering himself as he crept. "What are you doing?" Boston whispered aggressively as he saw Tech trudge in, "I told you to wait!" Tech stopped and realization flooded his face as if the penny had finally dropped and slouched down against the reception desk, resigned.

Tap

A nearing step. No doubt lingered in Boston, there was some one else in here and he shifted but a desk halted him. Gah! I'm choosing to be selfish for a cannibal...? He scrapped open the lower drawer and sure enough a first aid kit sat. Opening it Boston revealed it's contents. No! He discarded the box angrily, sliding it across the floor. Bad move, he saw turning and exposed to find a woman standing across the room brandishing what appeared to be a defibrillator... Boston glanced at Tech, his head hung sideways, Either unconscious or playing unconscious, neither helps.

"State your business!" The woman demanded, "We have snipers trained on you." Boston looked about the hall, the stairs were vacant and there hadn't been any noticeable movement else where. The woman looked alarmed but cross.

"Your snipers aren't good if they even do exist, all the major positions are empty," Boston commented, and he could see her defiant stance recoil slightly. "Look, we're not here for trouble, though the one on the floor is a nuisance at the best of times. He's just injured and we're doing our best to survive, that's all." Boston moved closer to her, slowly.

"Stop! You'll leave. Then I won't take action." The woman exclaimed lifting her implement, strands of her long brown hair fluttered at the reaction. Boston slowed his approach further but didn't halt.

"It's important he gets medical attention, I'm sure you can appreciate the condition he's in... Doctor?" Boston guessed. The woman was stunned.

"H-how did you know?" She questioned, lowering the device.

"You have a medical tool and your still wearing a lab coat, it wasn't the greatest leap. Please help." Boston requested now lifting his hands to hers and removing the charged defrib from her grasp. She looked up at him and then shook her head focusing and retracting.

"Bring him into the room adjacent the one after this, I have suitable supplies there," and with that she walked off. Carrying the passed out lump wasn't easy for Boston, he kept twitching and the smell, ugh...

The room was Boston entered was an entire living quarter, in one corner books and a couch with pillows and blankets; in the other a table now brandishing a plastic sheet. Boston lifted Tech on to it. The other corners hosted cans and food supplies and assortments of medical equipment. "Long stay?" Boston quibbed noticing the littered food containers.

"The longest," She retorted, "Now move that cabinet here," she demanded pointing at a white cart. The procedure was fast, a couple of needles and cream, coupled with bandages and the wound looked considerably better. "That'll hold him," she sighed standing back. "I'm sorry for earlier, common courtesies seem so foreign now..." she drifted of slightly.

"Boston. They call me Boston," Boston offered and she looked up inquisitively.

"Boston? That's a place not a name, who are you really?" she demanded. Boston smiled, mind racing. It's been so long...

"Rowan. Rowan Alder I was. Am," Boston corrected.

"Amelia. Dr Amelia Tyler." She responded, leaning on the make-shift operating table. "Would you like a drink?" Amelia shot up. "I have a fridge you see and it runs, complete with batteries I've modified from cars," and without a reply her head had disappeared into a white cabinet.

The lemonade was amazing, "How did you find this?" Boston question, now resting quite comfortably on Amelia's couch. "I had a sprite not long ago, but ended using the majority to slow Tech's burn, oh, that's the unconscious lump..." Boston's last words caught in his throat. "Where is he?" Tech had vanished.

Amelia and Boston both sprang to their feet and moved towards the next room. "No...." Amelia inhaled, "Not the reactor!" She raced ahead and Boston ran to keep pace. Barging through Boston and Amelia found Tech lying next to a huge mechanical device, dazzling the entire room.

"Tech! Stop" Boston yelled but noise of the generator drowned him out.

The computer beside Tech sirened and blared out "CRITICAL ERROR!"

"Grab him!" Amelia yelled, as she rushed to the computer. As she tapped at the keys, Boston picked up the flailing loon and shouldered him back to Amelia's room, dropping Tech onto the table.

"You don't understand!" Tech screeched but his protest was accompanied by a fist as Boston knocked him out. There's no time for this rubbish! Stop trying to kill us all. Boston was furious. Amelia came running back.

"It's too late, we have to get out. This whole place is going!" She panicked, grabbing a briefcase and throwing things in.

"Think, there has to somewhere that shield us?" Boston commanded, opening up the fridge and dashing its shelves and contents out across the floor.

"The safe could work... but it's too far," Amelia protested but Boston was already closing the fridge door, Tech stuffed inside. best I can do... darn it Tech. Grabbing Amelia's hand he pulled and they stumbled forward, the ground starting to shake. No time for questions. Just act.

Boston turned from the front hallway into a display area skidding, time was running out. The next room featured 21st century living, there were many home displays with models, one corner presented a kitchen - vacant a fridge. At the end of the large doming room a large glass wall stood, protecting a weapons display and an access door the other side... The safe will be behind there. "Hold on!" Boston turned, letting go of Amelia's hand and jumped forcefully at the glass.

"So what in god's earth was a fuel generator doing in a museum?!" Boston demanded, leaning back against the wall furthest from door, which was now fused shut. "It seems all I ever do is escape from being roasted," Boston gasped away from Amelia.
"It wasn't any generator, Rowan," Amelia sat huddling her legs on the floor, "It was direct power to the dome."

"Direct..." Boston hung on the word, "The dome is miles away!" Boston resolved, now looking down at Amelia. Amelia lifted her head.
"The dome runs on multiple battery generators across the state grid. One goes out, the others pick up the slack." Amelia explained, glancing towards what was once a door, "I thought your friend was sabotaging the machine, but no, if too many generators blow the strain on the remaining would cause a chain explosion..."
"...And so Tech was trying to shut the system down," Boston finished with full realization. That means either the attack on the dome did more damage than was expected or someones been systematically taking out generators. The moments silence was broken by part of the vaults wall giving way, the explosion had not only melted the front but weaken the integrity of the sides. Boston moved towards the edge kicking at the wall half a dozen times. "I don't feel like slow roasting anymore, how about you?" Boston asked as the wall finally caved in enough to crawl through.

The cold air stuck to Bostons saturated skin, it felt Arctic to him now that Hawaii was left behind. Reaching out an arm he pull Amelia up, noticing the same feelings now swept over her; the air had never tasted so sweet. He sighed.
Tech.
Scaling mounds of warm rubble Boston staggered over the building remains roughly where Amelia's quarters once were. Scorched beams and plasterboard were easy enough to lift or drag, the marble wasn't. "He has to be here!" Boston shouted exasperatedly putting his weight into a slab and pushing.
"There's no guarantee he survived the blast, you saw what the explosion did to the vault," Amelia responded sullenly looking at the remains of her life's work. Fire still crept around the remains, but Boston didn't falter, until there it was: a charred black and white fridge, slightly crushed and turned over. "Help me, the doors on the other side." Boston requested urgently, "There won't be copious amounts of air left and we don't know what condition Tech's in."
Together Amelia and Boston lifted the fridge, a little at first, then with more grip underneath, " Wait..." Boston exclaimed and forced the fridge over, "This isn't right." There was a hole in the door and nothing inside. There wasn't time to escape... He wasn't in any condition... Boston dropped to his knees, opening the door fully; there was only black ash.

"Argh!" Boston yelled upward, then fell to all fours. Amelia knelt beside him and curved her arms around.
"I'm sorry," she comforted. A single drop fell from Boston. Soldiers expect the worst. He told himself. I'm just not a solider anymore.
"Blast..." he said dispirited, then stood with the help of Amelia. "We have to leave, there's a lot happening... and we haven't time," Boston resolved shaking his head. "Check the car, it may still be usable," Boston sighed again, "I'll see to Tech.." But Boston dropped off before the end. Amelia hesitated staring at him, then left.

"We weren't meant to be friends you know. It was always going to end this way or similar, still. It doesn't feel time... and you were my friend. The most annoying destructive one I've ever had, but I'll believe you saw me as more than just dinner in the end." Boston blew the ash and it sprayed out of the fridge in a scatter. "I don't think a burial would suit you Tech, you saw them as buried treasure, not final resting places. And you didn't rest, never rested." The particles dropped around as the breeze died and some floated to where the fridge had been, descending into a small hole that a beam was partially sticking out, and into what Boston could only assume was left of the basement.

Charlie had never liked nose bleeds. Not that he fully remembered, of course, but even without his memory having his blood gush out of his nose made him feel queasy. He ripped off a piece of his white haz-mat suit and stuffed it up his nostrils, even though it didn't seem to be working.

Although he didn't care to examine himself, he could almost feel his infection raging through his body, yet was determined not to let it slow him down. He had basically inhaled half of the cheese flavored popcorn and for once he felt a bit full. The feeling didn't last very long.

Charlie pulled his rabbit's foot necklace out from under his suit and studied it, turning it with his fingers. He remembered the old man had given it to him, saying that one day he would need it, but he didn't understand how it was helping him. He could remember that he had been touched. Luck had abandoned him. What good what it do for him if he would just die in the end?

Dropping the rabbit's foot and stuffing it into his suit, he stood up. He made a grab for his popcorn and stuffed it in his pack. His gun was still tightly gripped in his hand, but he figured waiting would only make him bored and anxious. The fire had died down and it looked safe to explore. How in the world could a building just implode?

Charlie pressed his foot down on the first of the few steps. The ashes seemed to crunch under his weight, but so far it was sturdy enough to hold him. So, he marched into the building and slammed his shoulder into the door. Unfortunately it was unlocked so he tumbled in and crashed into a table with a collection of colorful, dead butterflied in a case. The glass shattered when he landed on it, most of it scattering across his brown hair, but he shook most of it off and stood up. He looked around, finally realizing that the place was some sort of museum. Bones hung on the walls next to artwork. A poisoned tipped sword sat in a case and Charlie debated on breaking it out and using it, but he figured he'd end up hurting himself.

It didn't take long for him to find the staircase. It wasn't too far from the reception desk. The stairs didn't look super sturdy, so he raced up as fast as he could. The wood didn't crumple underneath him- maybe the lucky rabbit foot was finally working right. It still seemed more like rotten luck to Charlie, but he didn't have the heart to throw it away.

The upstairs didn't seem like much of a museum, more like a small, cluttered collection. A few wax figures stood, giving Charlie an evil looking glare, but he put a bullet through both of them, even if they weren't real. You can never be too safe. He figured the museum had been robbed a lot after the touch. Maybe they had been the pinnacle of all history before the apocalypse, but now it looked like a trashy yard sale.

Charlie quickly found bathrooms. He didn't even know if they worked, since the toilets were probably burnt into a pile of ashes, but at least he could... unload... somewhere better than the side of the road. The boy's room wouldn't budge so he used the ladies' restroom. He walked past the mirrors, getting a glimpse of himself. He looked horrible: he was so skinny his small suit seemed like it might fall off any second, his brown locks a wild mess, and he was covered in blood and dirt, a nasty, sticky mixture. Charlie shook it off. He had more important things to do than worry about his looks. So, he took a step toward the stalls, but his rabbit foot must have not been working because he fell straight through the floor, through the one on the first floor too, and landed in the basement.

As he landed, he heard his bones crunch and crack under him, all the air shoved out of him. How he survived the fall, he didn't know. All he knew was that he was in the cold, dark, basement, and was possibly dead. But, on a positive note, he didn't have to use the toilet anymore- he had already taken care of that as he fell down.