Hello, my name is...I'm sorry. I can't remember the last time I saw a friendly face. At least one that was still attached to someones body. A living body.
I've been on the run for so long. Running from what? From whom? I can no longer remember.

Dutch! That was what I reckon they called me. Who are they? Don't remember.All I can remember is pain. Pain from torture. Fusion batteries. Burning hair. Sore nipbles. 3-Dog radio shows. Bruised jaw. Really sore nipbles. That's it! It's coming back to me.

I was a slave once.

But never again.

I lived in a small community, in an area known to only myself as the petrified forest. It's not really stone, but everything is gray and dead. Or mostly dead. There is an odd plant here and there and these godawful beetles the size of a mutfruit if they're an inch. Oh, and scorpions, can't forget the scorpions. It didn't last long, though. You see, I have this uncanny ability to find the worst, most explosive, gut wrenching way for someone to die. A gift really...or at least what I used to perceive to be one. I can make one hell of a bloody mess when I want to. That was what got me in the pickle I'm in today.

I was never accused of being a pretty boy, handsome, not bad looking, or even average. Hell, I'd even settle for ghoulish, especially after that one night in an abandoned metro station. She was a looker alright, before the Great War...even got myself a souvenir. Damn thing popped right off, I tell ya! Anyway, one day I approached my neighbor's daughter, with purely gentleman-like intentions. Well my neighbor, Frank was his name. My neighbor Frank didn't take too kindly with me courtin' his daughter, and started hollerin' and possibly hootin', but was most definitely pissed I tell ya. Well me, with my temper, well...I kinda don't know what happened, it being all blank and all, but the next thing I knew his daughter was screamin' and yellin' and was most definitely alarmed. Poor Frank, or what was left of him, turned into a quivering mass. I had to wipe some of him off on my pants

Well it wasn't long til the people in the neighborhood chained me up and I was off in a sack the very next time the merchants passed through.

After a long, sweaty, bumpy ride, I was dumped on the ground. Then someone kicked me in the hind quarters, and told me to get up. As I mentioned, It was a long ride, with no bathroom breaks. You can imagine what horror show erupted from my poorly sewn brahmin skin pants, onto the kicker's shoe, a wide area on the ground, and several feet in the air. I felt a rifle butt crack the back of my skull, and felt no more....


TO BE CONTINUED...EVENTUALLY

Well, what can I say other than this looks like the ravings of a madman. There are a number of mistakes in grammar, but I'm guessing those were intentional.

An interesting read.

Darkness. That never ending void. Just an inch can encompass all of our worst fears. You can never tell just how deep that darkness goes. To know is death.

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I woke up. Or did I? Maybe I'm still sleeping, and this is part of my dream. No...I can't keep thinkin' like that. Well, the way I see it I think I woke up to the sun in my eyes. They say the sun kissed the Earth during the Great War. Kinda seems like incist to me, being that they're made from the same kinda stuff.
A family of planets.

Anyway, there I was on lying on the ground in my own filth; a man with a rifle pointed at my head. He was dressed in leather armor (don't they ever come with 2 sleeves?) and sportin' a crazy mohawk bigger than a deathclaw's...well I almost said it, but I caught myself. A deathclaw's you know what...actually, come to think of it, I've never seen one. Have you? Never mind.

"Get up, maggot!" The man bellowed.
"Well don't that..." I tasted the bottom of his boot. Apparently he doesn't mind where he puts his feet.
"Get up! Shut up! Move over here." the man said.
"Who'er you?" I managed to stammer, spittin' God knows what outta my mouth.

He reached into his pack and took out a roundish gizmo. Placing it around my neck he said, "I'm your new master swine. You're gonna wish you were dead!"
And just like that we were off travelin' toward what looked like an old shopping center, what was where they got their food before the war.

"Paradise Falls." The man said. "Or what you'll come to know as Hell." he said grinning.

Well, I couldn't help but laugh, which caught me a good crack in the ribs with his rifle butt. Sometimes my blood tastes like strawberries. Or what I like to believe they taste like, having never eaten one before. Or maybe mint. Definitely mint. No, strawberries.

"Whats this contraption for?" I asked pointing at my new neck accessory.
"Radio Controlled Explosive. You try and escape, pops that ugly looking head clean off. Well, quickly is a better word as it can be a bit messy." he answered.

Several minutes later we arrived at my new home...Paradise Falls

Now this is where my story gets interestin'. I had just been introduced to the other slaves when...

SLAM! A rock careens into Dutch's skull. Not just any rock, a meteorite.

Whoa! I'll feel that one tomorrow. He shakes it off...and somehow seems completely fine, except for a small bump steadily getting larger.

What was I saying? Oh yeah. I had just been introduced to the other slaves when all of a sudden this big green mean looking SOB
comes blundering over the horizon with a clear intent that someone is going to get smashed. He was big enough to make that a reality real fast.

Well, all the slavers started yelling at each other to get ready so I just did what I do best. Let the rage take over.
The next thing I knew, all the slavers were cheering and I had climbed to the top of a mountain of sinew and intestines, the smell of
strawberries strong in the air.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" one of the slavers asked.
"As far as I can tell, I always could do this." I explained.

They began to whisper to each other until the man that caught me came over.

"We have a special job for you. None of this grunt work the other slaves do would suit you. Instead, we've opted to bring you along as hired muscle.
Any raids we go on, you'll be there to back us up. In exchange, we will keep you fed and won't kill you outright".

Now, I never killed anyone that wasn't going to die eventually anyway, and while these guys seemed to have a small anger problem, what with the raiding for food, murdering, and general enslavement of anyone who wasn't, well...them. It seemed I really found my proper place in life.

But good things don't last forever, as I learned that special night in that metro station. Rotten legs entwined with my own, a slight smell of decay,
dry throated moaning...Sorry, I was lost in my thoughts.(Dutch seems distant for a moment, then realizes where he is.)

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