In City Eight, District Two, there lives a woman. There is little information on her - even she does not know much. Her given name, place of birth, date of birth, and true parents are lost to time - all having been swept by the ferocious tide of extra-dimensional invasion. She was raised in a camp, by adoptive parents, given a new name and identity, and shipped into the world - a product of the Occupation itself. She knows very little of the world and its past, struggles with what some may consider to be simple tasks, and stumbles through life seemingly spared only by dumb luck.
This is her story.
Lassie huddled by the burnt-out car, hungrily opening the makeshift container she held, re-purposed from an old ration packet. The cooked rat carcass inside was charred, hastily held over a fire - but she had her axe and could clean it herself, and discard of any innards she didn't want. She carefully pulled the meal out of the plastic, holding it up to her hip to let the sharp metal head slice into it near the belly. After her careful incision was made, she pushed it open with her hand, ripping out the intestines, discarding them on the ground. A meal for some bird or headcrab - or maybe that Vort she met earlier. She got lost in her thought, before the smell of cooked rat wafted up to her nose, and her stomach reminded her of the task at hand. She looked back down into the bowels of her food, and dug her fingers inside, pulling out strings of gamey meat to devour.
One could be forgiven for assuming the small, almost feral creature, huddled in the dark, eating a wild rodent, would be a rabid threat to any sort of civilized encounter. The squatting, disheveled young woman, enjoying her first meal in days - as if it may be her last - could give one the impression of the sort of unpredictable savagery that a cornered wolf may display. And perhaps that would not be an altogether inaccurate depiction - in nature, even the best predators and hunters become nothing more than vicious animals in moments of desperation. The Combine occupation had worked tirelessly for over twenty years to diminish the standing of humanity, and nowhere did their efforts shine through better than the youngest survivors of the war - forced to endure indoctrination for most of their lives, knowing nothing but combine rule. Perhaps this woman was the future humanity had to look forward to - if they had one at all.
One could be forgiven for assuming the small, almost feral creature, huddled in the dark, eating a wild rodent, would be a rabid threat to any sort of civilized encounter. The squatting, disheveled young woman, enjoying her first meal in days - as if it may be her last - could give one the impression of the sort of unpredictable savagery that a cornered wolf may display. And perhaps that would not be an altogether inaccurate depiction - in nature, even the best predators and hunters become nothing more than vicious animals in moments of desperation. The Combine occupation had worked tirelessly for over twenty years to diminish the standing of humanity, and nowhere did their efforts shine through better than the youngest survivors of the war - forced to endure indoctrination for most of their lives, knowing nothing but combine rule. Perhaps this woman was the future humanity had to look forward to - if they had one at all.
The incandescent light blinded her, its electric hum pulsating quietly throughout the room. Nurse Mavrogenous, changed into her freshly given Amaria attire, was still grappling with awe towards the marvel of the room she was in - a working sink, microwave, fridge and stove, a personal digital assistant, and no less than two fully working computers - all for her to use at her pleasure. She could hardly believe her luck. Not to mention the couch in the break room was far better than what she had at her place - or what passed as "beds" up in the Refuge. To her, this was decadent luxury.
But she could not use it. The wisdom of her father, drilled in her day after day, continued bouncing in her head like a bullet ricocheting in a steel room. 'You are always on the hunt, Lassie,' he would say. 'A rest must be only that - a rest. You must never let your guard down, or let yourself be content.
Ο κυνηγός πρέπει πάντα να κυνηγά, μήπως κυνηγηθούν.
He was right, of course. She looked down to the latex gloves in her hand. A moment's respite would be fine - but she had to keep up her guard. He would have chastised her for letting her guard down as much as she had already, between the incident with the Cops earlier that month, and nearly being squashed by the train.
She pushed the thought out of her head. She could not afford to be distracted now. She smiles, opening the door to see Doctor Zehra waiting for her.
But she could not use it. The wisdom of her father, drilled in her day after day, continued bouncing in her head like a bullet ricocheting in a steel room. 'You are always on the hunt, Lassie,' he would say. 'A rest must be only that - a rest. You must never let your guard down, or let yourself be content.
Ο κυνηγός πρέπει πάντα να κυνηγά, μήπως κυνηγηθούν.
He was right, of course. She looked down to the latex gloves in her hand. A moment's respite would be fine - but she had to keep up her guard. He would have chastised her for letting her guard down as much as she had already, between the incident with the Cops earlier that month, and nearly being squashed by the train.
She pushed the thought out of her head. She could not afford to be distracted now. She smiles, opening the door to see Doctor Zehra waiting for her.
RELATIONS
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Νεκροί.
You are dead.
I miss you every day. I met a woman that said that God was real, and that He would take care of us when we die, and that I could see you again. I would like that, I think. I hope it's true.
You are dead.
I miss you every day. I met a woman that said that God was real, and that He would take care of us when we die, and that I could see you again. I would like that, I think. I hope it's true.
I haven't forgotten what you have taught me. I practice as often as I can. I will be your hunter forever, I promise.
Όπου κι αν βρίσκεστε - ελπίζω να είστε περήφανοι για μένα.
Όπου κι αν βρίσκεστε - ελπίζω να είστε περήφανοι για μένα.
I want to be just like you. Sometimes you're a bit mean, but I know you care. You look out for me - and I'll watch your back too. You won't be disappointed.
A nice old guy. Pretty funny, and likes telling me stories of life before the war. I hope I see you around more, I like listening to you talk.
That watermelon slush-E was pretty good, even if it hurt at first. You seem like an alright guy.
I didn't like you at first, but you seem okay, even if Lucy doesn't like you that much. You gave me some work, and you said I'm pretty smart. That's good enough for me.
