The Rarest Color
-Chapter One-

Note: I've wanted to write a fanfic, but my skills are a little bit rusty. I was hoping by writing this you guys could help me improve. Too long, too short, not enough detail. Stuff like that.

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Always trust your instincts.

Always shoot with your hands.

Never assume you safe.

The innocents aren't always innocent.
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Those four bits of advice rang in my ears as I walked into the little town. To the call it a town was really over doing it. It was four buildings and a tavern, but when you can walk for a month without finding a single person, it's not so bad.

There was an old man in a chair by the entrance to the tavern. A couple of children were playing in the dirt, but other then that, it was empty. The children offered me a suspicious glance then went back to playing. The old man was sleeping, he snored softly. Still, something didn't seem right.

Always trust your instincts.

I entered the tavern, it was hotter outside, but not by much. Only three people occupied the tavern, two men playing cards in the corner, an old woman standing behind the bar. I sat on the stool, and waited for the woman to ask me what I wanted. She just stood there staring off into the distance, her brow creased in thought. The men continued playing cards in the back, the hushed tones of conversation were of some comfort.

“Water?”

The old woman slowly turned my direction, half her face had been eaten away by radiation. One side was normal, the other was like putty. I'd seen worse. Without breaking her stare she brought out a glass and slammed it in front of me, next she took out a bottle of dirty water and poured it in. All without breaking her stare.

Creepy.

I put a quarter down on the table, and her hand snatched it off faster than I could blink. At least they were partial to money, so they were human. I started drinking the water, but it was so badly contaminated that I could only drink a quarter before my stomach threatened to heave it back out.

“Ugh. Do you have something...purer?”

The old woman looked at me for several seconds and then broke out laughing, her teeth were badly decayed and jagged. Behind me the other men started laughing, one spoke out.

“Pure water he asks? Ha. Ha. Ha.”

The man was very thin, and balding, his nose was big and crooked. I instantly didn't like him. After their wheezing laughter subsided. I tried again

“No clean water?”

The old woman frowned and glared at me,

“No. Now get the hell out of here.”

They were hiding something from me. They had pure water and I needed it, if I had to kill people to get it, I would. I got up and turned to leave, the old woman's glare boring into my back. As I went to the door I stopped before the two men. The other one was on the pudgy side, so obviously they had provisions. He actually had a full head of black hair. It was smoothed and combed to the right. I didn't like it.

“What you want,” the thin one asked.

“Didn't your mother teach you to share,” I responded

He saw what was going to happen before it did, but it didn't matter. My hand was in control now. My revolver was out of it's holster before he pushed back his chair. The crack of the gunshot was deafening in the small room. The thin man's head exploded on the left side and he crumpled to the floor.

The pudgy one had had began to push back his chair, a bullet to the gut sent he him and the chair crashing to the ground. I heard the round being chambered, heard the click, and went to the floor. A bullet gouged a hole in the wood, where I had previously been.

The old woman was holding a hunting rifle and had an ugly snarl on her face. She saw the revolver level towards her and tried flip me the bird, but I got her through the chest before she could. She slumped against the wall, blood trailing after her.

The silence was sudden and disturbing after the gunfight, nobody entered the tavern though. That made me suspicious. The smell of gunpowder and blood filled my nose, an all too common occurrence. The guilt that I had just kill three innocents didn't even cross my mind.

The innocents aren't always innocent.

Trust the Guitar Man, he knows things. I made my way behind the counter to the crumpled body of the old women. I calmly ignored the hole in her heart and rifled her body for a key. There should be a cellar somewhere out back. I surveyed the scene, the tavern was almost the same as I entered it. Minus the blood and bodies. And the cards scattered everywhere, oh well.

I picked up the toppled chair and put it back in place, then exited the tavern. The old man and children were gone, I would be too in their situation. The sun was still high in the afternoon, well that's what it looked like, but those stupid clouds made it hard to tell. You would think with clouds blocking the sun it would be cooler, but it was blistering.

I made my way to the back of the tavern, I didn't feel any eyes on my back or anything like that. The quiet was just that, nothing suspicious about it.

Never assume your safe.

Trust the Guitar Man. I opened the lock to the cellar and opened the doors. A blast of cold air and rotting flesh hit me. I have smelt death before, frequently, but nothing like this. I slowly descended into the damp dark, the revolver in my right hand, my face pressed up against my right arm. As I went further into the dark, the smell intensified. I fumbled against the wall and then found the light switch, I flicked it on, I really wish I hadn't.

Rows of long tables held up mutilated corpses. Children, men, women. All splayed out blood red on the tables, restraints kept them there, but arched backs and open mouths showed the torture the endured. It seemed I had stumbled upon some not so kind cannibals. What did you know, they weren't so innocent after all.

Sweeping my gun around the room, I slowly made way to the back, There were cases of clean water sitting there. I longed to crack them open, but it would have to wait. I looked around the room for something to put them in. I spotted an empty knapsack a top piles of clothing, obviously the victims.

As I began to shovel waters into the sack, a noise caused me to drop it. It came from the corner of the room, the dim light failed to illuminate it. I aimed my revolver there and prepared to take fire.

“If you don't come out now, I'll shoot. I mean it.” I took care not to shout, less I alerted my presence to others.

Slowly a figure crept out of the darkness. It must have been a girl of about thirteen. Badly beaten and dressed only in underwear, she cringed from away from me when I went to approach, sobbing.

“Hey, hey now. It's ok I'm not going to hurt you.”

She glanced up at me, shaggy blond hair covered her face, beneath I could see to wide, emerald color eyes. Her eye trailed to my revolver, then the empty sleeve of my left arm. Ever so slowly she made her way towards me until she could raise out her arm and touch me.

She collapsed against my chest and began to cry, speaking in between sobs.

“They...killed papa...and mama.”

I rubbed her head affectionately,

“I know, it's ok now.”

I let her cry for a little bit, but we really needed to get out of there.

I took off my leather jacket and gave it to her so she could cover up. It went down to her knees, and the sleeves were way too long, but it would work for now. I picked the knapsack and handed it to her,

“Can you carry this?”

She nodded vigorously and wiped her nose on her sleeve. But as soon as she put it on I could tell it was going to be too much. She could deal with it until we were out of town. I made my way to the stairs and she followed close behind.

“Ok, I'm going to go outside and see if everything is all clear.”

She pulled on my white T-shirt, clinging desperately.

“Look, it's going to be all right. It's just going to take a minute.”

She slowly let go, and I made my way up the stairs, checking behind me to make sure she was staying.

As I exited the cellar and rounded my to the front of the tavern, I saw a large group of people, they saw me. Before I could fire one of them spoke out,

“Halt, we don't want to fight but we will if we have too.”

I slowly emerged from the side. There were ten men, women, and children. All holding guns, all pointed at me. One even had a frag grenade, it was a twelve year old boy. The man who had spoken was obviously the leader.

“Look, we can kill you here, we have the firepower. But we don't you to kill any other members of are family. So lets cut a deal.”

He was dressed in a gray suit, had gray wispy hair. He was round in the middle and had a great, gray handlebar mustache. Never would thought cannibals had such civilized attitudes and dress codes. He continued on,

“Now, we won't kill you or blame you for the murders, if you give the child to us.”

“For what?”

He smiled, he had a very evil and sharp smile

“It's a secret. But we would also give who purified water, money and ammo.”

“How much money?”

“Twelve half's and six wholes.”

I whistled, that was a lot of money.

“How much ammo?”

“What kind,” he asked.

“.44.”

He looked into the sky for a minute then whispered with a man to his left.

“36 rounds.”

I whistled again, .44 was hard to come by.

“What's so special about that girl anyway?”

“You wouldn't understand.”

I stood there thinking,

“Do we have a deal,” he asked pleasantly.

I needed water for the trip ahead. Money would help when I reached Kinland. I was low on ammo, it seemed obvious. But the girl was innocent, I couldn't leave her to her fate.

Innocents aren't always innocent.

Trust your instincts.

Trust Guitar Man.

Hey, that's not too bad Yttrium. You've caught my attention. There's a few missed words that could be fixed, and taken out. Like you had "he", but then added "his" instead and must have forgotten to delete "he" or vise versa. There was some more of that, somewhere in there, but a quick little read over it should quickly expose them to you and be fixable.

You've caught my attention Yttrium. Hope it gets better. I do like the four little rules: Always trust your instincts. Always shoot with your hands. Never assume you safe. The innocents aren't always innocent.

I like it, shows how messed up the world gets when everything falls apart. Keep it up, curios to see what deal he makes.

The Rarest Color
-Chapter Two-

“Yes, I'll take the deal.”

The gray man smiled his evil smile, gums much too red, teeth much too sharp.

“All right then, lets shake on it.”

I holstered my gun in a fluid motion, and stuck out my right hand. He gave a few enthusiastic pumps, and then motioned to the others. Two men ran off to a house on the left, the rest put their weapons down, but they still seemed like the wanted to murder me.

The little boy with the frag grenade, solidified this by dragging a jagged nail across his throat and smiling at me. He had bedraggled hair and a face covered in dirt. I didn't like that.

The two men returned and sat a metal box at my feet, they lifted the lid, and then returned to the crowd. Inside was a number of coins and bullets. I nodded and replaced the lid, gray man looked at me expectantly,

“Don't worry, I'll be leaving now. Thanks.”

He nodded,

“Business is business, hard to meet someone as civilized as you.”

Civilized cannibals, what has the world come to?

I smiled, picked up the box and began to walk away, I got ten feet and stopped. I turned around, the group was still staring at me, weapons down.

“Hey, gray man!”

“Yes?”

“Want to hear a piece of advice?”

Always shoot with your hands.

“What?” A little suspicious.

“Trust your instincts.”

I dropped the box and had the revolver drawn before it hit the ground. Eyes wide, gray man couldn't even get his gun drawn before a bullet to the gut sent him face planting into the ground. The crowd hadn't even began to understand what was happening. I fired another round.

The bullet sliced through the air, past the first row of people, and hit the frag grenade. The kid holding it disappeared in a flash and roar. The box hit the ground. Blood and flesh erupted outwards. The group had been focused tightly, but now their bodies were strewn across the middle of the town. Some were screaming, but none were in the condition to fight.

I holstered my gun, and bent to pick up the box.

“You killed them.”

I nearly jumped out of my skin, the girl was standing only a few feet away.

How in the hell did she sneak up on me?

“You killed them.”

Flat, emotionless tone. It was kind of creepy.

“Indeed, I did.”

“Thank you.”

I stared at her for a moment, she was small and thin, she looked quite fragile. Her eyes locked onto mine, then moved past and froze. I forgot one piece of advice

Never assume your safe.

I was bringing out my revolver and spinning around, going into a crouch. Mr. gray man was laying in the dirt, one hand clutching a .32 pistol, the other struggling to keep his intestines in. His face was distorted into a snarl, a determined fire burned in his eyes.

Gums are way too red.

He fired off a shot, I fired off a shot. Mine hit him right in the forehead, he jumped as brightly colored stuff flew out of his skull. His shot missed...Me. It hit the girl right in her side. She gasped and collapsed to the ground. The motion seemed so slow to me. Her mouth was wide in shock,

Such white teeth.

Her eyes

Green. No. Emerald.

Where wide in disbelief.

I was running towards her before she hit the ground, the smack of her head hitting the rocky ground was very audible in the the disturbing silence. I knelt beside her, she was gasping for air. The bullet must have punctured her lung.

She locked my eyes with me and I tried to comfort her

“It's ok, it'll be alright.”

She just smiled, a sad smile of a child enduring more than one should ever endure, A child who knew the sad truth of this world and all it's cruelty. I picked her up in my arms and cradled her, my right hand in her right hand. I can not say how long a held her, hours or minutes. But eventually the time came when her shallow breathing stopped, her hand going limp.

It came so suddenly that I did not realize it for a few minutes. But when I did I began to cry. I've been through a rough life, all wastelanders do, but this was the first time I ever wept. I wept for the end of innocence and the cruelty of this world. A child killed by a bullet meant for me.

Her eyes were wide open, staring forever into space.

Green. Such a rare color to find in this world.

After my fit, I carried her body into the tavern. I cleared off the bar and laid her gently on it. I crossed her arms across her chest. I closed her eyelids, but when they sprang back open I just left them like that. I left without looking back.

As I wandered out into the wasteland, I grew angry. What kind of world would take the life of an innocent child, yet spare a killer?

My rage became intoxicating, and a fell victim to blind madness. I was searching for blood, if I found some kind of camp I would kill everything in it, and hopefully they would kill me too. My instincts told me to find shelter and figure out my location.

Screw instincts, Screw Guitar Man, Screw this world!

A wind was picking up, throwing dust into the air. I continued to rage onwards. However rationality eventually took over. Yes the girl was dead, yes it was my fault. But if I killed myself or others, all I had really done was strengthen the cruelty of this world.

Unfortunately I had wandered into a sandstorm, blowing full force. I couldn't see two feet in front of me, but I needed to find shelter. The sand stung at my eyes, my hand, my whole body. I struggled to fight against it. My steps growing smaller, my body was at it's limits. I collapsed to the ground, I tried crawling, but it was too much. I was so thirsty and so tired.

I had left the water at the town. And the ammo. And the money. I was such an idiot. All around me the sand flew. Dark patches ate up my vision and I gave myself fully too them.

Sorry Guitar Man, all your advice can't save me now.

Note: This one was shorter. I don't know how well I did on it, but criticism is appreciated. Also

Thank You Strangelove. I re read it and caught some errors. I've also re-read this one and caught some errors, but I doubt I caught all of them.

And thank you Sergeant Gusty. The world is such a cruel place indeed, even more so when no ones there to govern it.

Nice new piece. I think you've got my attention for the next chapter. Sad for the little girl, and the main character. Cool little scene with the grenade and kid; though I would probably for realism add blood small bits flying everywhere. Also, a mistake I found while reading through: "I closed her eyelids, but when the sprang back open I just left them like that." You meant they. I think there was a couple others, but I can't seem to find them now. Good story so far, and keep it up so my attention stays so.

Ah yes, thanks for the tip on the blood and bits. I try to make thew action scenes as interesting and frequent as possible, but I'm not all that good at them.

The Rarest Color
-Chapter Three-

I awoken to the sound of conversation. My tongue felt heavy and swollen, my throat was raw and sore. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. Into my sight popped two figures, both heavily tanned, must have been in their thirty's. The leaned over my body, I thought they were trying to help me. Stupid thinking.

“Damn, he has nothing on him,” The taller of the two said, he had blond hair and blue eyes.

“Well, check out this revolver,” This one was shorter, he had black hair and brown eyes.

“Damn, that's the best looking gun I've ever seen...Mr. Garrez is going to be happy with this one.”

“Wonder how he ended up with this anyway.”

“Doesn't matter let's go.”

The started to walk away, I reached out my hand and grasped the tall ones ankle.

“No.”

They startled, they thought I was dead.

“Oh my God, he's alive.”

“No,” I whispered, my grip tightening.

“Ouch! Get him off me!”

“No,” my grip tightened.

The other ran and kicked me in the side, I didn't let go.

“No.”

This time he stomped on my head. My vision went blurry, I let go, feeling blood rushing down the side of my face, still I whispered,

“No.”

“What a freak, let's get out of here.”

I watched them walk away, still repeating the one syllable word to myself. This was the closet I've ever been to dying. No water, food, guns or ammo. I was stranded, I didn't give up though. To give up would be giving up on Guitar Man, giving up on the girl. I forced myself to my feet and began to lurch my way in the direction of the scavengers.

My head was pulsing, the blood matted my long hair to my face. My left side was throbbing, I think I had bruised if not broken one of my ribs. My vision narrowed, I began to go slower and slower, but I was determined to keep going until I dropped dead, which seemed very soon.

I kept going forward, oblivious to my surroundings, it was mostly dirt anyways.

Not a speck of green in sight, or pink for that matter. Ha. Ha. Ha.

I began to notice, that ahead and slightly to the left of me was a patch of ground that was different from the rest. I as I drew closer I found out what it really was.

Water! Thank you God!

Ten feet away my legs gave out on me. I screamed as my bad side hit the ground. I only have one arm, but I dragged myself the rest of the away. My body protesting every movement. As I dragged my self over the dirt and rocks, my shirt got torn and my torso was soon covered in small cuts.

I was at the edge of the small, irradiated pool. My face plopped down into it and I began drinking as much as I could. It tasted horrible, I could feel the little grains of dirt, crunching around my mouth. After the first few drinks my stomach revolted, I tried keeping the vomit out of the water to the best of my abilities.

Afterward it was much easier to get it down my stomach. Each drink brought me closer to the land of the living. Soon I filled myself with the water. I hadn't eaten anything in three days, my body was beaten and battered, and I had no means of protection. But that was okay, I was alive at least.

I fell asleep by the water, I needed my strength. When I woke up it was early nightfall, the moon was out so I could still see.

Good. I'm going to need my vision.

I looked around for the footprints of my looters. It did not take long to find them. I began to run after the tracks, they had been going straight so I kept going faster and faster. My hand and legs pumping, every breath was pure misery thanks to my ribs. But I refused to slow down, I could not let them win.

In the distance I could see some light. As it steadily came closer, it became clearer. It was a fire in a barrel, wasteland camp fires I call them. Standing around it were my two looters, looking up at the sky without knowledge that their lives were drawing to a close.

Never assume your safe.

They didn't hear me until it was too late. I hit the tall one, with the blond hair and blue eyes, at full speed. He yelled, startled and went flying forward, landing into the fire. He began screaming and flailing around, a human torch, his body ablaze.

Before the other one could fully understand what was happening, I hooked my fist into the right side of his face. He stumbled backwards and toppled to the ground. I jumped on top of him, behind me the other man continued to scream, rolling around on the ground. I grabbed a rock next to me and began hitting the short one.

“Never,” I screamed at him, punctuating it with a hit from the rock.

“Assume!” Another hit, he was unconscious, blood and hair plastered the rock.

“Your!” The right side of his skull was now caved in, blood splattered all over me, drenched my hands.

“Safe!” I hit once again, a sick crunching and liquid sound. I had punched through his skull. I wiped my hands through my tangled hair, unaware of the blood covering my hands. Behind me the body lay still, the heavy scent of roasting flesh hung in the air.

My chest heaving, I quickly began looting through the bodies. I found my gun belt and revolver in their knapsack, I also found ammo, money and supplies in there. I strapped on my belt, and holstered my gun. I then laid on the ground, next to the corpses of my enemies. It was warm, thanks in part to the taller one. He continued to burn, or his clothes did, I don't know. Tomorrow I would try to find civilization, if you could call it that.

For now I needed rest. My body needed sometime to heal, a lot of time actually. But seventy percent of wastelanders suffer through as much pain as I do. I'm just glad I wasn't captured by slavers or found by those mutant things. I looked over at the burning corpse, yes sir I was lucky indeed. That was just the way of the wastes.

I wish I could live in a place where that wasn't so, some place where the weak were protected by the strong, not exploited. Some place where little girls could grow up in peace, not to be tortured by cannibals, some place...some place...green.

I glanced over at the flaming corpse again, putting my hand against the butt of my revolver as I fell asleep.

Never assume your safe.

The Rarest Color
-Chapter Four-
City of Shade.

Also known as Zombie Paradise, but the ghouls don't like that. I myself have no problem what so ever with ghouls, a long time ago I did. The whole town was surrounded by walls, the town was pretty big. But it was a crime based town, dealing largely with jet and mentas. The head or “mayor”, as he would prefer, was one Jerry Garrez, a man I met long ago.

A gate slid back as I approached and a wave of cold air hit me, like I just walked into a freezer. The city was gloomy, ramshackle buildings crammed the streets. Jet junkies lay in dark alleyways, sleazy bars had bright neon signs that hurt my eyes.

Ghouls and human could be seen walking around, eyes shifty, hair greasy. I hated this place with every fiber in my being. This was probably the worst place on the planet, it was the largest drug dealing commonwealth before the Great War. It was only worse now.

I headed to the largest building in the city, I think it use to be a hotel, it overlooked ever other building in the city. This is were Mr. Garrez located, going in guns blazing would be pure suicide. Not to mention all of his personal guards, he had connections with major raider gangs, the BOS, and the TNS.

But he knew me on a personal level, if I requested a meeting he would oblige. The automatic doors leading into the hotel was blocked by armed guards. They wore a full set of combat armor, including helmets and carried assault riles. Both were ghouls.

“What's your business,” the one on the left asked.

“I want to request a meeting with Mr. Garrez.”

“He's busy.”

“Tell him it's Kayne. I'm sure he'll answer.”

He growled something under his breath and disappeared inside. The other one continued to point his gun at me. There was ten minutes of awkward silence before the ghoul returned.

“Mr. Garrez will see you know.”

I walked across a large lobby, it was still in pretty good condition. We walked past a set of stairs, some kind of red material covered them, it was tattered and dirty. Armed guards were everywhere, men and women dressed in fabulous pre-war dresses and suits gave me disgusted looks. Here was were the evilest of the evil together, it would do the world a whole lot of good to kill them all.

At the end of the hallway was an elevator, guarded by another two ghouls. They looked me up and down.

“Revolver, sir.”

I stared him, this gun was valuable to me, but I knew this was going to happen.

“You'll get it back when your done talking.”

I grudgingly handed him my revolver.

“Thank you, sir.”

I grunted and my armed escort led me inside. We were at floor 1, there was three other floors and a roof. He hit the roof button. The elevator came to life, there was a small jolt and we were going up. It was a peculiar sensation.

The elevator doors slid open and I was dazzled by the sunlight, it was much brighter at this height. The roof was flat and open, much of what had decorated it had been destroyed. The guard led me to the left of the elevator, where Mr. Garrez was eating lunch. He sat at a decorated table with an umbrella, he motioned for me to sit down.

He stuffed juicy pieces of Brahmin steak in his mouth. Only the best for the worst.

“Hello, Mr. Garrez. I assume you remember me.”

He stooped eating and looked up at me. He was a ghoul and a hideous one at that, he still had a full set of greasy black hair. His belly bulged, his eyes seemed small and shred on his round face. He smiled and reveled a dirty set of teeth.

“How could I forget my old business partner.”

“I've regretted that decision,” I smiled at him. His smile disappeared.

“Don't tell me you've gone all soft on me, son.”

“Don't call me that. Your not my father.”

“You know that's not good for the wastes...Son.”

I started grinding my teeth, no one got under my skin like him.

“Then what is good for the wastes! Selling drugs to the raiders. All your doing is helping the murderers and killing the innocents!”

“That's just how it goes out here. Now calm down, I was hoping you could work for me again, son.”

“I'll never work for you,” I got out of my chair fast and hard, it hit my guard and he tumbled backwards. I grabbed the knife from the table and kicked him as he tried getting up. I took the knife and stabbed him in the eye, he didn't even scream. Blood oozed from the gaping hole in his eye socket.

Never assume your safe.

I kept forgetting that one piece of advice. I turned around quickly and found Mr. Garrez looking straight at me, In his hands he held a revolver, pointed straight at me. I instinctively pulled my hand up and tried stepping backwards. His first shot hit me in the arm, pain erupted and I stumbled back from the force of it. The second one hit me in the head, I felt blood trickling down my face. I screamed, and fell. I had stumbled right off the edge.

I fell screaming, hit the roof a building and stopped. Rolled slowly off that and dropped to the street below with a thud.

Yay! Now I have something to read when I come here!

Thank you very much, sir.

The Rarest Color
-Chapter Five-

“Come sit down, boy.”

I looked at the Guitar Man, his face was wrinkly, but still warm and charming. A camp fire was lit, he was sitting on the ground, eating an iguana stick. I slowly made my way to the campfire, sitting down opposite him.

“Here, have some food.”

He threw a stick at me, to my surprise I caught it with my left hand. I took a bite, it was juicy and delicious, I dug into it ravenously. The Guitar Man laughed at my appetite, he threw men another one,

“Growing boys need their food.”

The fire was very warm and cozy and I was so tired. The Guitar Man began to play his guitar, the soft lullaby soothing me into sleep. I laid down on the dirt and tried closing my eyes, but a new voice disturbed me,

“You can't sleep now, Mr.”

I looked up, there was no longer the Guitar Man, it was the child with emerald eyes. She looked at me desperately,

“You have to get up, Mr. It's not your time to die.”

“I think I already did.”

She shook her head,

“Get up!”

My head swam, the tiredness was replaced with pain. The girl was replaced with a cloaked figure, leaning over me,

“Mr. you've got to wake up!”

I was back in the world of the living, a world were I only had one arm and no food. No cozy camp fire, just a dirty street, where I lay bleeding.

I moaned as pain washed over me, it felt like something was eating my brain.

“Oh good, your awake.”

I ignored her and tired standing up, my head flared and my leg gave out. I screamed and fell forward, she was there to catch me. I looked down, my left leg was twisted, broken. I clenched my teeth together, vowing not to scream again.

“Here, I'll help you, we've got to get out of here.”

She draqed my arm around her shoulder, it flared up in pain when she did. I barely noticed that my shoulder was oozing blood. My vision was being eaten up by black spots, but I held on to consciousness. She took most of my weight and led me down the street, I limped along with her.

How long we walked I don't know, It could have been fifteen minutes or a hour, I can only remember the pain, it was always there. Eventually we arrived at a house made of tin and dreams. It looked like it would topple over if a breeze came through. She led me inside and put down on a dirty bed, my whole body lit up and I groaned.

She pushed aside a dresser to reveal a trap door, she opened up and reveled a ladder that went down into the dark

“Hey!”

She whispered fiercely,

“Yes?” A deep voice answered.

“I've got him, but he's badly injured.”

“I'll get him.”

I could hear him climbing the metal rungs. A large figure appeared out of the hole, I could hardly make out anything in my state, but he seemed as big as a Yao Gui. He walked over to me, and whispered,

“Holy [censored]. You weren't kidding, we've better get him to Doc, ASAP.”

He tried picking me up as gently as possible, but the jolt was still enough to make me groan. He held me in one arm, and used the other to get down the ladder. He carried me down a dimly lit corridor, the walls were made of steel, and his footsteps echoed.

The girl was already at the end of the hallway and threw open a door, shouting orders that I couldn't make out. As soon we entered the other room I was set down on a gurney, light blazed overhead. A needle punctured my arm, I lost all consciousness.

This is amazing so far. Keep em coming

Thank you so much, sir. Anything you see a problem with?

The Rarest Color
-Chapter Six-

Have you ever had your bones and muscle stitched back together?
If not consider your self lucky, it's a very painful process. They strapped me to a gurney, dug out the bullet that had lodged itself in my skull, miraculously not killing me. They administered stimpacks, many of them, then they left.

For the next six hours I was in hell. I screamed and writhed, eventually my voice gave out. My leg and ribs were on fire, they itched as the bones twisted back into shape. I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, my nails cut my palm with the force of my clenching.

I passed out when it was over. A don't know when I came back, but the cloaked female was sitting in a chair next to me, the straps of the gurney were undone. I sat up, rubbing my head, I still had a head ache. She placed a hand on my chest and gently pushed me back down,

“It's best to rest after a recovery like yours”

I now heard the rasp that betrayed her as a ghoul. Probably the reason for the cloak, some ghouls are self-conciseness. I lay down and blinked as a wave of dizziness washed over me, I turned my head towards her,

“Thanks for the help, you saved my life.”

She began fidgeting with her hands, which were gloved.

“Well it was mostly Doc. He-”

“No, you helped me off the streets, without you I would be dead.”

She folded her hands and put them in her lap.

“If you say, Mr.”

“I do say, how can I ever repay you?”

She began messing with her hands again, twining her fingers together,

“Well about that...”

She stood abruptly,

“Can you stand?”

I looked at her quizzically,

“I can try.”

I slowly got up, upon standing a wave of dizziness washed over me. I nearly fell and would've if she didn't catch me. She watched me for a few seconds than let go, I didn't fall. Satisfied she beckoned me to follow and left the room.

I noticed the room for the first time, it's wall were rock, it had been carved out the ground. It was small, with a lighting fixture hanging from the jagged ceiling. There was a set tools laying on a tray next to the gurney, blood cover the tray and the tools, the bullet that was in my skull was lying in the tray, I pocketed it.

Leaving the room, I found a hallway carved out of rock, it ran off in two directions, seeing a fleeing shadow I took the one on the left. I quickly ran down the narrow hallway,trying to catch up, it didn't help that it was so crooked.

I ran right into a an atrium it was large room carved out of the rock, the door that led to the ladder was right across from me. A group of twelve people were in it, chairs were sat in a circle, but almost everyone was standing. And shouting.

Open seeing me the arguing stopped and silence issued. Finally a mocking voice,

“I see our hero has awoken. Hope you enjoyed your beauty sleep.”

I traced the voice, it came from a very beautiful women. She had long blond hair pulled back into a pony tail, a cream colored face, and blue eyes. She was large were a man wanted a women large and small where he wanted small. But she was arrogant, I could see it in her eyes, and her snarl twisted her features into something ugly.

“It was great, thank you Ms,” I smiled back at her.

She frowned and pointed a finger at me,

“Your lucky were not throwing your ass out right now. With all the trouble you caused, we should have left you on the streets.”

The cloaked women spoke up beside me,

“Hey don't shout at him, he just recovered from a bullet to the brain.”

She turned on the cloaked women,

“That would explain a lot! And what are you Beatrice? His [censored] boyfriend.”

“Hey now, lets calm down,” It was the deep voice man who had carried me.

He had long gray hair, it flowed down his broad shoulders. He had a gray beard and an aged face, despite this he had the most heavily muscular body I'd ever seen.

“Calm down!? You expect-” I cut her off mid sentence.

“Thank you.”

There was moment of awkward silence, no one seemed to know how to respond. I just kept looking at the gray man,

“You carried me, thank you, sir.”

He got up and shook my hand,

“Name's Tom, stranger, and don't mention it.”

I nodded, I was beginning to like this man,

“Call me...Kayne.”

He smiled and then sirens started wailing. I looked around as orange lights began to pulse, around me the people were in a flurry of activity. People were returning from the hallway with guns, everyone was aimed at the door.

“What's going on?”

The cloaked women, Beatrice, answered me,

“Were under attack.”

“All thanks to you, hero,” the blond women mocked.

“Catch!” Tom threw a gun at me from my peripheral vision, I turned and caught it, it was heavy.

I looked it over, it was a SPAS-12,

“Tom, how in the hell I'm I suppose to use this one handed.”

“No time kid, figure something out.”

There was shouting from outside, everyone tensed. Then the door blew open and gun fire abruptly opened up.

I am really enjoying this Yttrium, keep up the great work.

The City of Shade part is well written, I am enthralled with the imagery,

this area is absolutely bursting with ideas, a real sense of the ugly side of things there.

To quote you:

"...Jet junkies lay in dark alleyways, sleazy bars had bright neon signs that hurt my eyes..."

Awesome. Good writing is good writing.

Thanks, Ms. A lot. I kinda of thought the last chapter was crap though. It also doesn't help that my attention span is short. No sooner did I start this then I wanted to make one about monorails, really badly. When people comment it does make you want to keep going though, so thanks, I was about to give up.

Edit: Thanks to you also, Mr.Smiley

For pete's sake don't quit, this is a good read!

I actually stumbled across this section and was intrigued by the title and I have to say I'm addicted to the story the detail, the realism, and the way it is written everything about it is just awe-inspiring, hell I registered to this website for the sole purpose of telling you don't quit please please don't quit or give up it is just made of pure awsome

that being said I hope to look forward to your next chapter

You sir, just inspired me to write more by saying this. Thank you, though I'm a little stuck right now, but you've have given me motivation.

Btw Ytt....just wanted to officially complement your work here. I love 1st person stream of consciousness. I enjoyed this read...great imagery. Keep it up.

*This chapter was extremely hard to write for some reason. I changed it at least three times, no of them satisfying to me. I'm not please with this one either, but I needed to have him get out of the city, and this was the best way. Also, thank you Thanatos


The Rarest Color
-Chapter Seven.-

It was a bloody chaos.

I knew it would be over if the men got all the way into the room, I couldn't let that happen, I owed them too much. I charged forward and hit the man in the lead. So surprise at my act, that the man didn't have time to steady himself. He toppled over, taking three men behind down also.

I quickly brought the shotgun up, there was no need to aim in this narrow corridor. I fired and the wad of pellets made a wall that knocked over those that stood in front of me. I ran forward pulling the trigger, in such close quarters, the shotgun was devastating.

It turned heads and torsos into a bloody mess. No amount of Med-X and Stimpacks could help them. The idiots weren't able to fire because they would hit their teammates in front of them. Who ever planned the attack did not put much thought into it.

I reached the metal ladder, my chest heaving. I was covered in gore, so were the walls. It slowly dripped down onto the floor, which was already heavily stained with it. People were coming up behind me, picking off survivors. I looked down at my blood encrusted boots, a hand had grabbed at the right one.

It came from a man with his lower jaw blown right off. He lay there breathing heavily, his eyes were trying to send a message that his tattered tongue no longer could. He was begging for mercy, to be freed from the torment. I was not horrified of what I had done, he was an enemy, but he deserved to be able to die.

I placed the shotgun against his temple, he brown hair clung to his face in sweaty clumps, but I could still could see his eyes, they were happy. I pulled the trigger,

Click.

Out of ammo. I threw the shotgun down, drew out my knife, and pulled his head back, exposing the throat. I made a quick slice, the blood flowed out, ending his poor life. Footsteps behind me, I turned around, Beatrice was running up,

“Hurry, we've got to get you out of here.”

“What about the others?”

“They'll be fine, your more important right now.”

I wanted to ask why I was so important, but I figured that could come later. With all these people wanting us dead, it would probably be best to get out of the city. I followed her up the rungs, I did not have time to pick up a weapon.

Outside of the shack, it was dark. Neon lights, house lights, and streetlamps brightened up the city, making it glow even during the night. But there were still plenty of shadows to hide in, plenty of trash filled alleyways to disappear in.

As soon as we got out, Beatrice started sprinting across the street, no time for questions. It took all my effort to keep up with her. Through alleyways, were people could lay dead or dying from drugs. Across streets were people payed us no more attention than the average passerby.

The city guards were on full alert and looking for us. The town gates were locked down, no one was to leave until I was found. Beatrice stopped in a deserted alleyway, breathing heavily. In between breaths I tried asking her a question,

“Do you...Know a way...Out of here.?”

She nodded her head,

“Yeah...Well sort of...”

“Sort of?”

“It's kind of risky.”

“Were being hunted, just standing here is risky.”

She nodded again, her breathing was regular.

“Yeah, I guess your right.”

She slowly stepped into the street, no guards were at this end of town, I guess it was too far from the entrance for them to have interest. A manhole sat in the middle of the street, she pulled it off, revealing a ladder that descended into darkness.

“Why didn't we do this in the first place?”

“The sewers are dangerous for people like you, we have no choice now though.”

With that she began to the descent into darkness and I followed. At the bottom, I could hear the sounds of running water, and distant growling. A light pierced the veil of darkness, causing me to squint. In her hands she held a flashlight.

The growling intensified from behind us. She handed me her handgun, I took it out of instinct.

“What's down here?”

“Ferals.”

“Ah.”

She began sprinting down the concrete path, I could hear splashing from the water channel directly behind us. It was like a bad dream, the one were your trying to run away from something, but no matter how hard you run, it keeps gaining on you.

The ferals chased us, or actually me, through the winding passage ways. There was too many to fight, way too many. I fired behind me, picking off one or two, but there must have been at least thirty. The growled, hungry for flesh. The very scent drove them mad, sometimes one would trip, to be quickly trampled by the others.

I was reaching my limit, my breathing becoming fast and irregular. One of the ferals hands actually grabbed my shoulder. This gave an extra burst of speed, I followed close behind Beatrice who was also wearing down.

But we could smell fresh air, it was so close, I could see an opening. The end of a drainage pipe, the ferals behind me clawed at my skin, ripped my clothes, tried dragging my down. But I manged to burst free, falling into a heavily irradiated river below.

I scrambled to the shore, my stomach was heavy with a the filthy water I had swallowed, and I was exhausted. I collapsed next to Beatrice, we both needed rest. I began to laugh, she joined in. We had made it. We were alive, that one thought, in a world like this, was enough to make me smile. The ferals growled at us from then pipe across the shore. Too bad they couldn't swim

I lay down, my eyes heavy. I needed rest, I think Beatrice had already gone to sleep. I needed to ask her questions, but my instincts told me it was okay to trust her, and like the Guitar Man always says,

Always trust your instincts.

even though you say your idea isn't great, it is it was fluent and coherent nothing too off the wall or didn't make sense, all in all pure grade A 200 kilos of Colombian awesome I swear if you wrote a book with this story I would buy it because I'm hooked

I need another hit man, I'm jonesing.

Thank you guys very much. I'm probably the slowest writer on the planet but I'll finish this eventually. Comments help, find anything wrong with it?

Thanks to all who commented. I was able to write another chapter, this one is pretty long and will hopeful be able to clear up what's going on.

The Rarest Color
-Chapter Eight-



We sat around a camp fire. It served two purposes, kept us warm and kept animals away. The City of Shade was barely visible on the horizon. The smell of cooked squirrel brought back my attention, it looked done. Beatrice handed me a piece and I viciously dug in, soon only bones were left. They were way too small.

This reminded me of the fires I often shared with the Guitar Man. I grabbed another squirrel, the silence between us was only disturbed by the crackling of the fire. I finally broke it,

“I want some answers.”

She looked up at me and then went back to eating.

“Who are you guys?”

She continued to eat.

“What do you want with me?”

She continued to eat. Furious I threw down my food and stood up. She flinched.

“I said what the [censored] do you want with me?”

She finally looked up at me, I couldn't see her face because of the cloak, but she seemed scared.

“In the past two days I was killed, brought back, chased, and now I'm the most wanted man in the Wastes. At least tell what's so important.”

“Please don't shout. They'll find us.”

“That's exactly what I'm talking about, who the hell is “they”.

She whispered fiercely, I guess she wasn't really scared of me.

“Look, I saved your ass twice, the least you could is listen to me.”

“I would if you actually told me something.”

She rubbed her gloved hand against her forehead. She sighed

“Okay, listen up. I'm part of a resistance group called The Watchers.”

“What are you resisting?”

“Didn't I say to listen?”

I sat back down and remained silent.

“Were resisting the man you met, Mr. Garrez.”

“Why? He's just the mayor to the City of Shade, I mean I know he's got connections but-”

She interrupted,

“You have no idea. I don't know how long you've been gone, but Mr. Garrez pretty much owns everything up into the mid west.”

I nodded, he was powerful man before I left. And that was fifteen years ago.

“He gets whatever he wants when he wants it. Everyone lives in constant fear of him, you can be shot just because he doesn't like you. And the thing is no one gives a [censored].”

I threw another stick of dry wood on the fire, it sent off a flurry of sparks and I watched them dance into the night sky.

“The raiders are the worst. Their free to raid towns, killing the men, [censored] the woman, and burning the rest.”

Sounded like the normal wasteland I knew. I don't know why she was so angry, this had been going on since the “Great Purge” as most people call it around here.

“The BoS don't care as long as they get their share of the tech. The TNS don't care as long as they get their share of the money. Garrez doesn't care as long as they don't ruin his business.”

“Sounds just like the same old crap that been gone on since day one.”

She looked at me shocked.

“You mean you don't care?

“I did.”

I remembered the girl with emerald eyes. My head drooped and tears swam in front of my eyes, blurring my vision.

“But now I know better. It's survival of the fittest out here. Only the strong survive.”

She was stunned,

“But, I thought you were likes us. Fighting the good fight.”

I looked up her, my cheeks wet from the silent tears running down my face.

“Good? There is no good in this land. Only the evil prosper here, I don't seek to fight anything only to survive.”

She stood up, her hands clenched tightly.

“Fine, think that if you want. But we still need you.”

“Why?”

“Hell if I know! I personally would have left back with the ferals!”

The argument broke off there, the sound of approaching feet made us scramble to throw dirt on the fire. The cold steel of a barrel pressing against my head made me stop. I slowly got up and turned around.

Their were five armed men, all wearing brown dusters. They carried shotguns and assault rifles. They were assembled in a line. In the center stood a tall man, with very short brown hair, pale skin, and a nasty smile.

“Hello Kayne. Don't think your getting away this time. We know what you have done.”

Bounty hunters then. Probably fed lies from Garrez, no use arguing.

Trust your instincts.

That's right it it was survival of the fittest. I plan formed in my mind and went with it. I slowly raise my hand and backed away, towards Beatrice.

“Wow, hey now. Can't we talk about this, look I'm unarmed.”

That was a lie, I had Beatrice's handgun in the back of my jeans. Beatrice spoke up beside me,

“Look, I don't know what Mr. Garrez told you, but were the good guys here-”

“Shut it, ghoul. We know all about you too.”

He motioned to one of the men on his left,

“Go check him for weapons, but be be careful, he's a dangerous one.”

The man slowly stepped forward, his gun trained at me. The others also had theirs pointed at me. When he got close enough for to reach out and touch, he order me to turn around, I obliged.

Trust your instincts.

Beatrice spoke up again.

“You have to listen to me, we didn't-”

“I said shut it ghoul! I'm thinking of putting a bullet in between your eyes right now!”

No sooner had he said this, then I struck out my leg, the man checking my fell to his knee as it connected with the side of his leg. I spun around and placed my hand on the back of his head, throwing it to the dirt.

The force of the blow made him drop his gun. He was too stunned to shout, the others were rapidly shifting their aim from Beatrice to me. I quickly brought the man back up, wrapping my arm around his neck, I put his body in between me and the bounty hunters.

The other men faltered, unsure of what to do. The man I was holding had regained his sense and was panicking,

“Don't shoot! Please don't shoot Jim.”

The man in the center, Jim, ordered the men to lower their guns. He then spoke up, his voice was deep and grating.

“What do you hope to accomplish, Kayne? You can hold him as long as you want, but were going to get you eventually. Your not going to make it far and as soon as you let him go were going to shoot.”

“Oh really,” I said smiling, when I spoke the bottom of my jaw scraqed against the top of my hostage's head.

“I guess I'll just have to kill him then.”

The man panicked,

“No! Please! Oh God, I don't want to die.”

Jim scowled,

“Let him go and nobody gets hurt, were allowed to kill you, but I prefer to keep you alive.”

I smiled,

“Sure thing Jim.”

Always shoot with your hands.

I pushed the man towards them, blocking their shot. He stumbled forward as I drew my handgun, a Glock 17. Seventeen shots, five men, no problem. They were still trying to bring their guns up when I fire the first shot.

It hit Jim right in between the eyes. Blood and bits of his skull erupted from the back of his head and he fell to the ground, a snarl etched onto his face. The other men had their guns up but where unsure whether or not to shoot. I shot another man two times in the chest, he fell face first, twitching.

As I brought the gun to another target, they finally opened fire, my hostage was cut down. He screamed and fired a shot, hitting the another in the throat. He clasped a hand to his neck as it blood poured out, and stumbled backwards.

The other man stopped firing, realizing he just cut down his own friend.

“Hey, Sanchez. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it,” he whispered to the corpse of his friend.

I fired two rounds into his skull. He dropped to the ground, and a silence fell on the land. It seemed unnatural quite after the gunfight. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard, I could feel it warming my back. It felt good.

“You killed them.”

Beatrice muttered while looking at the bodies.

“They were trying to kill us, now lets get some the rest.”

“I'm not going to sleep next to corpses!”

“I don't care if you do or not. I'm going to have a nice rest and tomorrow your going to take me to your leader or whoever runs the group of you hippies.”

I laid down on the dirt, the fire warming the left side of my face, it made me sleepy.

“I'll bring you to him, but believe me I would rather hug a super mutant.”

“Dully noted.”

I closed my eyes and slowly drifted into sleep.