Sanctuary

Shock rifle discharge had taken out a big chunk of the stairwell. Vishka couldn't go back. All he could do is stare down the shaft, unable to make out if Dre was still alive or not. He knew the man was resourceful, but ten stories? Logic dictated the man was dead, no matter how wishfully Vishka thought. This angered him. Dre didn't deserve it... They would pay tenfold for his death.

Vishka bounded back across the roof, leaping across the gap effortlessly, almost overshooting and going off the other side. He came to a stop in the middle of the group of humans.
"Drenki sacrifices himself so that we may continue. Let us honour him by surviving."

 

Everything hurt. His arms, his legs, his head, his hands, his feet, everything.

"Well, you look better then I feel." He looked around. His sight was still fuzzy. "I think I messed my head up." He shook his head, as if it would help him place the thoughts that were floating in his head. "Are we still missing someone?"

The next second, Vishka was back in the middle of the group.

"I..." No witty remarks came to mind. "Yes. Lets."

 

"I..." No witty remarks came to mind. "Yes. Lets."

Darmetrius felt it was inappropriate to speak ill on the dead, so nothing would leave his mouth in that regard. He smirked as he thought Josh would let something out though, almost rooting for him to say something snappy. When nothing came out, he understood.

"Couldn't go there either, huh?"

He took a look at the others that landed. He was in Heaven. The "angels" fascinated him, while the other fellows amused him. The Jack guy was the second smoothest guy he referred to with the group. Heroic and intelligent, watch out ladies. He was a shoe-in with the fairer sex. And this Josh gentleman was comedy relief. One thing was for sure, this would be entertaining to the end. Now back to Dre.

"Can we have a moment of silence for... Drenki was it?"

 

"Moment?" Vishka snapped. "Fy Shin! We go now. This disc must be moving always. Does this one not understand severity of situation? Time bleeds from us. Move!"

 

"Moment?" Vishka snapped. "Fy Shin! We go now. This disc must be moving always. Does this one not understand severity of situation? Time bleeds from us. Move!"

"I guess THIS one doesn't understand like the OTHER ones. What THIS one understands is that someone looking a little like yourself killed my woman and my family. They almost got me, but THIS one managed to escape and kill the bastard in the dark. THIS one watched more of Those who look like you try to kill me a second time, and a brave man gave his life. I just wanted to show that brave man a little respect, you lizard on steroids!!"

 

"Oh sh*t." V muttered as everyone sailed over the gap, dropping to the next roof, following Zefie.

She was shaking badly as she made sure that the carbine was well strapped on and the few medical supplies on her were secure. Then all the little things she could do to put it off were over and her nails bit into her palms as she stood, measuring the gap.

A few bullets zipped by and she shook but didn't run, visualizing the jump.

Fear is a luxury we can't afford.

Before she could change her mind or question it she ran and leaped, clearing the gap and taking several running steps and stumbling a little as she landed.

"Well, I'm glad that's done," she said, "what's next?"

 

Mission VI: Solidarity
*Interact with the Streeters
*Meet Roy O
*Observe the gathering mass of Dragoons outside the New Wall

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The group, now numbering only six, passed over the rooftops in silence, the severity of the situation now managing to quiet even the more sarcastic people. Drengi's sacrifice weighed heavily on Vishka, dull anger beginning to build up underneath the mass of armor.

The junkyard loomed up ahead of the group as they travelled and, oddly enough, it appeared to be fully operational. Machines could be heard pounding away and moving back and forth. It looked like someone, or something had constructed a wall out of all the scrap metal in the junkyard. When the group came close enough, they could see that there were people moving about. Women and children, old men and young. All were armed to the hilt with various weapons, and all bore the tattoos that marked them to be from one gang or another. The Streeters had banded together and had somehow erected a New Wall while successfully fending off attacks from Them.On the outside of the wall a mass of Dragoons was beginning to form. On either side of the wall, preparations for an assault were being made.

After locating a way down, Jack led the group to one of the entrances and pounded heavily on the door. A small metal slat slid open and a pair of blue eyes surveyed the group. There was an indiscernible voice as the slat slid closed and the door was opened. The group was greeted by a contingent of armed men, each tattooed and pierced in the fashion of the various gangs.

"Welcome to the New Wall mates. Good to see some other survivors, we're spread thin as it is and we could use the extra man power," the blue eyed young man said as he looked over the members of the group. "You all look like hell. Get in here and get something to eat. I suspect Roy O will be wanting to meet with you, but not until you get some food in your bellies."

 

Jack heaved a sigh of relief at the possibility of an actual safe house. The apartment had gone to hell just as they had started to relax. Maybe here they'd have a chance to...if only for a little while to let some of the stress out. Jack entered the complex and found that the streeters had put together a fairly bang-up operation. Everywhere there was evidence of clever hacks with the machinery and scraps.

Jack turned and looked at the bedraggled lot. The doorman was right. They did look like hell. Stained with blood from wounds, their hair mussed, their skin sheened with perspiration...

They could all use a meal and a bit of cleaning up. Only six left...out of a dozen or more. Half of their group gone, and this nightmare was just beginning. Jack looked at each of the faces that remained. How many more would die? With grim resolve in his eyes, he touched his hand reflexively to his chest, where the Magnus Disc sat inside his jacket pocket.

No more. No more would die. Not if he could help it.

"It's good to be here, friend. I think we'd all appreciate a bit to eat and a place to sit for a few minutes."

 

Joshua shifted uncomfortably. He had never been at peace in the Junkyard, even though he had been there a number of times with V as a child. It was a rough place, a small city within the bunker. Street gangs made the rules here, not the military.

Then again, the military was no more.

The iron door opened and Joshua saw Jack casually walk inside. Joshua took a deep breath, reminding himself he was not a ten year old anymore. Then, he walked after Jack.

"I just hope this new wall does better then the old one."

 

V smiled with relief and accompanied Zefie in through the new wall. She hadn't been to the Junkyard quite often enough to be really comfortable but as always it was exciting. In fact, it was more exciting than usual. People rushed everywhere and construction was occurring at a feverish rate. She had to look away from arc welding. The sounds of frying air from it mixed with hammering and power tools, assuring her that if They were going to breach this wall they would have to mount a full-on assult to do it...and would probably have a headache afterwards at the very least.

"Thanks." V said to the blue-eyed young man as she passed him.

He looked her over and nodded. Any other time she might have had to deal with him in a totally different way but right now they had a common enemy.

She offered her shoulder to Zefie as they went, concerned about whether her friend had regained her breath or not. V also checked to see who all had made it this far...Jack, Josh, Jess... she took mental inventory and automatically tried to see if they were hurt. She sad to see Dre missing. How would their pet They deal with that? So far he simply accompanied them and it was impossible to tell what he thought.

 

Vishka stepped over the threshold, feeling more than a little out of place. His suspicions were confirmed when some of the inhabitants of the New Wall fired on him from a distance. Vishka took cover, not so much to avoid the sting of puny bullets against his diamond-plated armour, but to prevent his human companions from getting caught in the crossfire.
"Cease! I am no danger!"

 

Zefie smiled for the first time since that morning as they entered the New Wall. She gratefully took V’s proffered shoulder, her chest still hurting when she breathed. With her free hand she pulled her headband down so it hung around her neck like a bandana, revealing the stylising black wing tattooed over her eye.

She felt safe here among the Junkers, and wanted to proudly display her gang tattoo amongst the others. As far as she knew she was only one alive from what had been left of her gang.

Before they were too far in, however, Zefie was almost knocked off her feet by a blur of black and purple that threw itself at her. She stumbled backwards, and when she regained her balance her attacker released her from the tight embrace.

A small round face framed by an uneven crop of black spikes stared up at her with a crooked grin. Zefie blinked in disbelief, but the pixie-like apparition didn’t disappear.

“Zefie!” Neena crowed happily. “I knew you’d come! Jay and them said you was dead by I knew you wasn’t! Our Zefie c’n outrun anyfing, I told them, even Them.”

Neena glanced at Zefie’s companions, then did a double take. “V! You’s here as well!” She lifted a hand and with some concentration curled her fingers into a fist. “Look! Couldn’t do that last time I saw you, eh?”

They were distracted by a sudden burst of gunfire, and turning Zefie understood that the New Wall defenders were shooting as Vishka, who’d taken cover. He looked strangely helpless, crouched down to avoid the bullets.

“Cripes!” Neena yelped, “It’s one o’ THEM!”

“No! No … don’t shoot,” Zefie croaked.

“What?” Neena gaped in disbelief. “Zefie … you gone funny in the head or summat?”

“No,” Zefie threw her friend a look. As much as she still blamed Vishka for the gas-incident in the apartment, she didn’t think he deserved to just be shot dead. “He’s … not evil. Helped us … healed V …”

 

V was beaming with excited happiness over seeing Neena alive and the improvement in her hand when she saw Vishka hunkered pathetically in completely inadequate cover, bullets cutting the air around him.

"Cease! I am no danger!"

"Stop, STOP! Don't shoot him!"

V didn't realize she was running toward him until she was standing in front of the dragoon, facing the streeters. Their faces were a study in stunned surprise and deep suspicion. The weapons remained leveled.

"This...this..." She stumbled over what to call it. "He saved my life. He's been very helpful. I don't think he's even able to hurt humans...we did something to him, I don't know what. Please, lower your weapons."

V glanced behind her and met Vishka's eyes, they were expressionless as usual and he said nothing. She turned back toward the gangs.

"I take full responsibility for him." She heard herself say.

Well, V, she thought, you've either just done a good thing or bought yourself a load of trouble.

 

Guns barked as some of the Streeters opened up on Vishka. The rounds pretty well bounced off when they did hit. Zefie and V both stood in the gap, sticking up for him. Jack stepped next to Varenna.

"We take full responsibility." He said.

"He saved all our lives. As far as I'm concerned, he's proven himself."

 

Joshua was about to remind Jack that the creature had also almost murdered them with the chlorine gass, but changed his mind. This They, this Vishka, had pulled his own weight, and had occasionaly sounded human. The grief about the loss of Dre had been real. He sighed and shouldered his rifle.

"I'm guessing Jack's 'we' includes me as well, and frankly, I don't care." He looked around. "Someone mentioned food?"

 

Vishka rose from the collapsed statue -- one of Sanctuary's founder -- he'd been hiding behind. His human companions stood between him and the others. 'We take full responsibility.' The statement echoed in his head.
Vishka walked slowly through the wall of humans protecting him, approaching one of the men who had opened fire. The man wore studded leather and sported a green Mohawk. Vishka was unaware that humans could even grow green hair. It was certainly a rarity, perhaps why he seemed to be a man of importance in the Junkyard.

"Those that were mine have caused you great despair," Vishka said to the man, picking his words carefully. He was about to say 'my people', but realised it would be best not to associate himself with Them. "I am certain that my former self has done wrong to humans, too. For this, I shall repent. Any task you ask of me, I shall perform."

 

Jack watched as Vishka stepped forward and declared his intentions, which, as expected, were good.

The Streeter with the green mohawk looked Vishka over cautiously and seemed to consider what he had said.

"We'll see what Roy has to say about this." He then directed his attention back to the others.

"Get yourselves to the porter house and get some feed in ya. You're gonna need it." Jack nodded at the man.

"Thanks." The porter house was one of the rundown buildings that had been temporarily restored. It looked like the Streeters had rounded up backup power sources from all over Sanctuary, as well as a large stock of weaponry and supplies.

A young man with a shaved head and three rings in each eyebrow stood over a stove and a group of large pots. Whatever he was hacking on over there smelled really good. He glanced over at the newcomers and gestured to the benches set haphazardly around the house.

"Make yourselves at home. It'll be ready in a bit."

 

V was relieved as the tension ebbed out of the situation and they filed into the porter house. The smells immediately made her stomach rumble. Food had never been plentiful in Sanctuary, causing the inhabitants to be opportunists when they found it.

She felt weak from the running, the wound which still felt fiery and itched, jumping the gap between the buildings, and standing for Vishka when they could have been cut down doing so. Going to Zefie she made her sit down on a bench and asked her how she felt.

 

Despite her tense feelings, Zefie felt a grin spread over her face as they entered the porter house and she saw the shaved-headed young man at the stove. He looked up, surveying the group, and stopped at he saw her.

Also grinning, he yelled over his shoulder, “Oi! Jay! Get out ‘ere, and look at who ain’t dead!”

From a door behind him another young man with long, dyed-purple hair and various piercing emerged. He looked exasperated for a moment, then his bright blue eyes fell on Zefie and V.

“Well, well well,” he smiled, “If it ain’t little Zefie. I had money on you bein’ dead ya know. Neena always said you would show up though.”

“Ain’t you … learnt nothin’ Jay?” Zefie rasped. “Take more’n … Them … t’kill me.”

Jay stuck his tongue out, showing off a large stud, then turned to V. “Nice t’see yer okay too, Doc. Ain’t that many medical pers-on-edges ‘ere. And,” he added, spying Joshua, “Is that that little pipsqueak Joshie b’hind you?”

While Jay marvelled over the change in Joshua, V ushered Zefie over to a bench and asked her how she was.

“I’m okay,” Zefie said. “Throat hurts … an’ chest’s a … little sore. No more … coughin’ though. That’s … good, right?” She indicated V’s side. “How’s you?”

 

"I'm not sure," V was unhappy that her friend was still so out of breath. That didn't mean anything good, "the coughing would have made you expel a lot of the gas but if you got a good lungful first..." she trailed off, not wanting to scare Zefie but not wanting to lie either. "As for me, it hurts but I'll live." V didn't want to complain to someone who might be more seriously hurt.

"Hey, Jay," she said, turning so that she didn't have to explain to Zefie why she might die, "I see you've been making trouble down here in the Yard as usual." She winked at him even though she didn't feel lighthearted at all.

 

Zefie frowned as V hesitated, the changed the subject and started talking to Jay. There was something her friend wasn’t telling her; Zefie knew her well enough to know when she was leaving something out, and it was the same kind of hesitation she’d had before telling Neena she might lose her hand.

So what wasn’t V telling her? Something to do with the gas? Was it serious?

“O’ course, darlin’,” Jay replied, leaning across the counter with a suggestive grin. “Trouble is my middle name, ya might remember.”

He winked, as Kez snorted over one of the pots he was stirring. “Oh yeah,” he said, “Ya might also remember, V, how little Neena used to push ‘im around. Still does, only she ain’t so little any more, is she?”

 

V found herself smiling.

"It's a good thing Neena's here to keep you both in line since Zefie's been out having adventures with me." She patted her friend on the shoulder, "Excuse me, Zef, I need to talk to Vishka for just a moment."

V rose and made her way diffidently to where Vishka stood, apart from the others. She felt awkward approaching him and asking for more when he'd helped her already. But she was seriously concerned about Zefie and she would go to great lengths to help her friend.

"Please, Vishka," she touched his arm and knew when he looked at her that he already knew what she wanted to ask.

 

Joshua simply smiled. Jay had never liked it when V had pulled him along, mainly because at the time he hadn't been the bravest youth. Never jumped roofs, never craweled narrow pipes. Joshua grabbed some food and saw V and Vishka take of. He walked back to Zefie.

"So, Jay. All jokes aside, what on earth is happening around here. And where the hell did this new Wall come from?"

 

Darmetrius was like a kid in a candy store. Food at his disposal, and what seemed to be friendlier people to converse with. He made good of a golden opportunity. He wasn't sure of the next time he'd be able to eat, so he immediately moved to the chow.

Upon his arrival, a lady smiled at him, handing him a menu. Once he took a seat, she gave him a friendly greeting and proceeded to do her job.

"Hi, honey, I'm Bridget... I'll be your server today. What can I get for you?" she asked Darmetrius with a pencil and pad ready to take his order.

Darmetrius smiled back and gave Bridget a once over. She was dressed in typical waitress attire, but carried herself very well. She licked her lips and grinned as she saw his eyes scanning her body. He didn't wan to creep her out, so he cut the peep show short and spoke up.

"Hi Bridget, I'm Lin, and I'll be your customer for today," he replied with a cocky smile. "I'm very hungry, I think I'd like a nice steak and some fries. You gonna take of that for me?" he asked still smiling.

"I think we can arrange something like that," she said with a wink. "I'll be right back."

She walked off to give the order to the chef.

"Don't be long, Bridget," he started. "I might get lonely out here."

She turned to face him and fought another smile, though it forced itself on her lips anyway.

"I gotta watch out for you," she told him before vanishing to the back.

Darmetrius started thinking about the day he had so far, and what might be coming soon. He started fidgeting with his spoon, lightly drumming on the table.

 

A giant of man, long black hair and tattoos all over his face and body, stepped into the porter house and banged a monstrous hand on one of the tables. His voice was like two boulders grinding together. "You lot get eatin' and get done quick. Roy O wants to see the group of ye. He's waitin' in the Fort." The humongous man turned and walked out, the occupants of the junkyard giving him a wide berth.

The Fort, as it had been dubbed by the streeters, more of a big metal hut. It was kept under constant guard by the junkyard's biggest and most feared gang before They came, the Black Sun Raiders. Every member of the gang was tattooed in tribal markings from the top of their heads to the bottoms of their feet. Each was a deadly looking chap, regardless of the military grade weaponry the carried in their more than capable hands. The Fort was undoubtedly the most well defended spot in all of Sanctuary now. That was where Roy O waited for the group.