[Krylo]

Grinding Iron

"Heey, finally awake eh, Newbie?"



I turn my head toward the voice, and see a man holding a rifle. He laughs.

"Yeaaah, you and me, we're gonna have some good times. Ain't no one gotta know. Keep your mouth closed and it won't even ruin ruin the sale price," he says as he comes a bit closer. I narrow my eyes, and slide a foot back, stancing myself. It elicits another laugh from him as he pulls out a small metal object. "No no no, newbie, you see this?" he jams it against the gate, waving it in my face. "This here controls that collar of yours. One little press and BOOM goes your he--"

Putting it against the gate was a mistake, I reach through the gap between the gate and the fence and grab him pulling him close, putting my head next to his while I wrap my arm across his throat.

"Then press it!" I hiss in his ear, as I press down on his throat. I can feel his struggling getting weaker as I reach out for his belt, feeling for keys, ah there the--

Thwip

My arm comes away from him as I feel a sharp pain in my back and a stagger back.



Looks like I might have killed him but wha. . .



I feel my legs go out and I stumble backwards. I can't stand. But I can still hear, as my consciousness fades. . .

"Jesus, Jerome, are you alright!?"

"Uuugh y. . . yeah let's just get that bitch outta here. . ."

"No shit, I'll tell Eulogy to ship her off on the n--"



Don't know how long it's been when I wake up, but the sky is different. Sun burns into my eyes. . . no buildings or statues. . .



I pull myself to my feet and look around. . .



Oh christ. Was I sleeping in that?

What even happened to him?

Before I can really contemplate, however, I hear a sharp short sound, and feel a sting in my side again, as I begin to get doozy, I turn toward the gate.



"Nuh uh. You ain't gettin' up until you're in your new ho--"



This. . . is getting really old. My head is pounding. Probably an after effect of the drugs.



I slowly sit up. . . and it's like I'm in hell. No cage though. Maybe I can actually stand up here. . .



I stagger about my new environs, taking it in, slowly.



"What are you doing!? Get back to work! Don't let them see us talking!" she hisses as I stop to look for a way to get her out. . . and then I slowly walk away. I don't know what she's talking about. Where I am.

What even happened.

I wander into a building to rest and after a moment I hear someone coming up behind me and turn.



"Actually. . . I didn't see anything on the way in. Where am I?"

The woman sighs. "The Pitt. Just like the rest of us."

"The. . . what?"

She rubs the bridge of her nose for a moment. "The ruins of Pittsburgh. It's. . . we're slaves."

I reach up and rub my neck. No metal there now. . . but. . . right. The collar. The cage. Moriarty getting back his investment. . . that son of a bitch sold me.

I pull my hand away and clench it in a fist. "How do I get out?"

"Get out? What? Are you insane? They have an army watching us, not to mention the trogs outside, and all the tr--"

I hold out a hand. "Woah, what? Trogs?"

She looks at me like I'm crazy, "Troglodytes. . . they're. . . theres a sickness here. Water. . . air. . . we're all affected by it, and there's only two ways it ends. Either we die coughing up on our blood or we. . ." she sighs and looks away. "Trogs are what we all hope we never become. Monsters that only care about devouring flesh and killing. . ."

"So like those. . . feral. . . ghoul. . . things?"

She looks back to me with a quizzical look. "Ghouls--I don't know. . . maybe?"

I shudder a little. A disease that makes people into ghouls? I wonder if that's how the bartender back in Megaton ended up that way? But at least he kept his mind. I wonder how rare that is, before I shake it off.

"That just means I need to get out of here even more."

She sighs. "But no one can get out, don't yo--"

"Listen, there's got to be something. Maybe I can get the rest of you out too, I don't know. But there must have been some kind of escape or something before?" I can feel desperation creeping into my voice.

"No, there hasn't been. . . but. . . if you want to try the first thing you're going to need are weapons. . . "

I let out a sigh of relief. If I can get a good gun in my hands. . . well at least I'll have a fighting chance. And then I nod, signalling her to continue.

She bobs her head around, "You see. . .



. . .It's practically a death sentence, though. And they never choose anyone. They make us pick who's going to do it. Bastards." She's got a mix between despair and anger in her voice. A completely impotent anger. It infuriates her and she hates it, but she doesn't think there's anything she can do.

Can't figure out why though. . .

"That doesn't SOUND like a death sentence?"

"Yeah? Well the area is full of Trogs, and it's not like they're keen on letting you borrow one of their guns," she responds, her anger directed partially at me now, and sounding a bit less impotent.

That explains things. I nod. "So great, how does that get me a weapon?"

"Not just trogs out there, there's. . . people they call the Wildmen. Just about as bad as trogs, but we've heard stories of them. They've got guns. . . if you can get them away from them. There's the ruins of an old factory there as well, might be able to find some weapons. . ."

I nod slowly. Well that's sounding. . . possible, but. . . "But how am I suppose to survive long enough to get a gun?"

She looks slowly to the right and then to the left before leaning in, "Listen, don't tell anyone I told you this but. . . Marco in the Mill. . . he's been altering some of our tools into weapons."

"What? Why?"

She shakes her head. "I can't be sure you're really one of us yet. You come back from the yard and. . . we'll see."

". . .Right." They must be planning something with those weapons. But it's not really any of my business so long as they--

The door opens and a man walks in, looking around before glancing over his shoulder at the woman I've been speaking to, apparently Midea.



"Uhm. . . Nothing. Nothing. . . uh . . . sir. I was just telling this new worker about the job the foreman posted."

"Oh yeah? So she's the one going out into the Steelyard, huh?"

"Yes sir. I told her what she needs to do. 10 ingots. As fast as she can."

Well son of a bitch. Thanks for that Midea. You know, not like I would have liked some time to think about walking into certain death or anything.

"Well then, I hope you said goodbye!" He cackles for a few seconds. "Alright, play time's over. Get to work, Grinders."

. . .I still don't have any idea what my job is.

Midea turns to me as he leaves. "I'm. . . uh. . . I just kind of panicked. . ."

I sigh and put my face in my hand. "Whatever. I guess I was going to, anyway," I respond before leaving.




I don't get very far before I stop just. . . staring at the lesions on her. She notices me looking before I can break eye contact and heads over.

"Hey, have you seen Bill?"

I guess she didn't notice the stare, or the disgust. Lucky me.

"I'm uh, new here? Who's Bill?"



Jesus Christ. I'm trying my best not to retch. I can smell her flesh rotting. This is. . . actually worse than Gob, to be honest. Gob was just. . . not human. This? This is disease.

I can barely concentrate on what she's saying. Too busy concentrating on the fact that I've got to get out of here before I end up like her. Just. . . falling apart.

A chunk of skin falls off her shoulder, and I try to ignore the sickening plop on the ground as I force myself to refocus on the words she's saying. . .

"--the Steel Yard to look for scrap. Didn't want anyone to die, but it's been a week and nobody's heard anything. . . but he's a survivor. He can't be dead!"

"Well. . . uh, I guess I was just volunteered for the job. I could take a look, I guess. . ."



Inwardly, I kind of hope he's dead. Not out of malice, but. . . looking at her, and remembering what that other woman said about how it gets to all of them eventually. He's probably better off than living like this.

Outwardly, however, I keep it to myself, and instead just awkwardly nod. "Yeah, well, I'll be fine. Probably."

I pull myself away, past her, and head out into what looks like it was once an intersection.



People in the street, chopping apart iron with large rotary saws and tossing the chunks into the fire. Some kind of massive salvage operation?

Is this what all the slaves are for?



Looking up I can see smokestacks pumping smoke into the air. I wonder if it has something to do with the illnesses everyone feels, but, more than that, I wonder just what they could be doing with all this salvage. I know these places were called factories from the pre-war books and movies down in the vault, but with what I've seen of the wasteland?

Well I highly doubt there's any others running in the world.

Doesn't take long for me to find a door into the factory.



Steel presses. Still not sure what they're pressing the steel into, though.

Don't have long to think about it either, as I hear a voice behind me.



"Hey, Scab, what're you crazy? Just standin' around like that? Get ta work before I tear yer arms off!" She starts laughing as I glance around quickly.

"Sorry, I'm new. . . one of the. . . bosses told me Marco could give me my tools?"

She looks to the ground and spits, before yanking a thumb toward the middle of the mill. "Yeah yeah, just hurry up and get your shit, scab."

I nod and hurry off. I don't want to start a war until I've at least got a gun.



Doesn't take me long to find him, or at least I think it's him.

"Hey, you Marco? Midea s--



Yup, it's him.

"Sorry," I reply, in a whisper. "Midea said you could get me a weapon. . . I'm heading out into the yard, and. . ."

"Yeah, right, I got word along the grapevine," he nods, and heads over to a table, hefting up what looks like one of the tools the slaves outside were using. "It's not the best, but it'll help some, I hope," he says as he hands it to me.

"Replaced the blade. . . ain't so good for cutting steel anymore, but it shouldn't bind on flesh. Decreased the RPMs a bit, too, so it wouldn't bind up on different materials. . . like bone, you know. . . Anyway, good luck," he says as he turns back to whatever he was doing.




I look it over once he's done talking. Blade does look different, though I didn't get a good look at the ones the other slaves were using. Hopefully it's not too obvious. Thing's bulky, hard to manuever.

I don't want to have to fight my way out of here with this thing, and I definitely don't want to use it in a fire fight.



Doesn't take me long to find the entrance to the Steelyard. Or I assume, anyway. What with the big sign pointing at it, and the guard, who waves me over when he sees me.



Something about his voice. He seems like a little less of an asshole than the rest of the guards and slavers here.

"Yeah, seems I ain't got much of a choice," I reply with a shrug.

He chuckles a little. "Well this ain't no union shop. C'mon."

He waves me forward and I start to follow him.





Thanks for the vote of confidence. . .

"Then again. . ."





"Huh. . ?" I glance up.



Jesus. That's not a ghoul. Don't know what the hell it is. . . Trog? That's what they were calling it?



Right, I think Midea mentioned something about people living out there. Maybe I can get some clothes or weapons from them if they're willing to trade.



"That way I won't have to walk so far to loot your corpse."

I just shrug. "I'll see what I can do."

He lets out a single 'heh'. More of a fast exhalation of breath than a real laugh.



"If, by some strange twist o' fate you manage to survive long enough to turn them in to me, I'll see if I can't slip a little something your way."

I nod and head out the door.



. . .Nice place. But at least there's probably no sl--hey wait a minute what's that?




Well, things are looking up already. I grab the rifle, and the couple of steel ingots that are laying, literally, within 10 feet of the door.



Feeling pretty good about this now. Not many rounds, but. . . I've got a proper gun.



I head a little deeper in when I see another slave trying to. . . talk to one of the trogs. It's staring at him, head half cocked.

I listen closer.

"Come on Henry. It's me, your brother. You remember me don't you. . . Henry?"

The creature cocks its head the other direction and takes a few steps forward. "That's right, it's me. Your brother. . ." I can almost hear the hope in his voice.

And my heart sinks as the thing lets out a gutteral growl and leaps forward.




I squeeze my trigger, almost without thinking. The bullets rip through its left claw and into its brain, splattering the back wall. I just saved his life. . .

But he merely breaks down crying for his brother.



I head down closer. "Hey! Get back to the mill!" He doesn't seem to hear my voice despite the fact I'm shouting and about 10 feet away.

He just keeps sobbing over the creature repeating the name Henry over and over again.

. . . There's nothing I can do for hi--

Sound behind me.





Shouting must have lured them out. Maybe the gunfire too. I've still got a few rounds, but. . . the other guy, he's still just crying. Can't leave him here like this.

I start looking around for something to help.




That just might do it.




If I can just. . .




Let's clear that crying bastard a safe zone, shall we?



And they're all still operational. Nice.



Well, that should keep him safe, anyway.

. . . Back to work.

There's a door into the building next to the robots, figuring I might find more ingots in there I press it open and head inside carefully.



I can hear movement deeper inside, and that dead robot, riddled with bullet holes, tells me to move slow and careful.



I manage to crack into security system at the terminal there. Turn back on the defense system. And am greeted by the sound of automatic fire, running, and some shouting.

. . . Guess there were people in there. Whoops.





I hear clanging on the metal floor of the hallway next to me and peek out thinking it might be human.



Just another Trog.


I start to head up the tunnel when I hear an explosion. Probably the turret system being taken back 'offline'.



Few steps in and I see a woman running across.

"Hey, sor--"

She swings up her gun and a bullet passes by my face.



Well, guess they're not going to be friendly.



Still, that leather is probably going to provide better protection than these rags. . . and proper boots. Look about my size even.

. . . I really don't want to take them from the dead, but. . .

I take a deep breath and start stripping her down.



Fits pretty well.

Her gun's an awful .38 revolver, though. I'd honestly leave it behind, but I'm running low on ammo, and I don't want to have to fall back to that axe thing.



I head a bit deeper in, and see some trogs feasting on human flesh. From my vantage point it doesn't take long to blast them apart. . .



But I'm not exactly rolling in bullets either. I pop out the magazine to take a look.

Two. And probably one in the chamber.

That's. . . probably not good, but no real option now but to keep going.



Manage to find some supplies. Ammo box just has more 38 ammo, though. Not particularly useful.



Also find another robot and turn him on, but he just stomps about where he is. Ignores any orders I try to give him to head further in.

Guess he can secure this area and watch my back, anyway.

With a sigh I head further into the factory.



. . . and there goes my last bullets.



. . .Great. Just wonderful.

Well they haven't noticed me yet so. . . maybe I can get the drop on them, if I'm lucky.

I crouch low and sneak around to the back of the mine cart, and then sprint out around the corner.



The repurposed cutting tool bites through his neck like butter.



Another, standing right next to him, steps in, pushing my arms to the side, and raising a pistol to my stomach. Moving, and thinking, quickly I drop the tool, and step sideways and back while grabbing his hand. I pull it through past me and force him to fire once into the third man before stepping backing it.



I push the gun in against his his chest, still holding it and fire off three rounds.



. . . Metal armor.

I sigh. Survival before fashion. . . or decency.

I unstrap the flamer and get to work.



Probably going to need this protection when all I've got is a .38 and this cutter.



Find some more Iron behind them too. I got 10 now. That's enough to buy my survival but. . . I really need some better guns, or at least more ammo for my rifle. So I press on.



Huh. Wonder what's up with this?



Doesn't take me long to Jimmy the lock. Whole bunch more iron, some medical supplies, a .38 on the desk, and a dead body.

Browsing over the computer tells me this is all untouched since before the war. Looks like there was some kind of worker revolt when they replaced the men with those robots.

Incredibly ancient history now, though.

I head back out and keep on exploring the Factory, heading up some catwalks.



Bedroom. Weird.

I secure the area, though, and help myself to a little undrugged rest, after clearing off the bed. It's nice to relax for a bit.

When I wake up I head out across the room, find a catwalk heading down. . .



Electrical switch opens the heavy security door back at the entrance hall. Well, that's the factory, I guess.

Gonna take a look around the yard a bit before I head back, though.



Sweet, sweet bullets.

I rummage through the containers, and his body for any ammo I can find. Not a lot, but a few magazines.



Hm, looks like a stair case heading up. Might as well give it a look.



Dead slave. Bandana. Also find a note on him.

I flip it open and read it.

. . .

Well, that diseased woman isn't going to be too happy. Looks like it's Wild Bill.

I sigh, and turn to look up the stairs, as I slide the note under my armor.

It's only about three steps before I hear shouting. I look up and charge in.





Trying to conserve ammo, and he was close enough.



Turning around I find a little storage area. Couple more magazines, some grenades. . . I'm starting to feel pretty good about this.

I figure it's probably better to head back while I'm still in one piece.

. . . honestly not sure if I'll be able to smuggle the armor and assault rifle back in, come to think of it. I might have to rely on the .38.



Doesn't take me long to find my way back. I open the door and let out a sigh of relief, starting to relax as I hea--



"Shit!"

Christ, those goddamn things can talk. It leaps at me teeth bared, attempting to make good on it's declaration that I'm 'food'.



Bullets beat Trog, though, even when I'm taken by surprise.



Must be how he got in. Not that I much care. I'm done out here now.

I roll my shoulders and walk through the door.



"Thought ya had died out there, you took so long. Well, that and the fact everyone dies out there."

He lets out a little chuckle as I turn over the ingots I'd collected. Well over 10.

"Haha, nice haul, scab. Tell ya what, seemin' as you done so good I ain't gonna take that armor back from you. You know what, I'll even give you a little somethin' extra. . ."

He turns and rummages through a cabinet and comes back out holding what looks like a bikini made out of bomb casings.



"Which just means they'll be inside your blast radius, huh?" he leers at me, and I take the armor off him, repressing the urge to vomit. Probably the only person whose skin isn't falling off in chunks he's seen in awhile.

. . . I really need to get out of here, I think as I turn to le--

"Hold on there, Scab. I may've said ya can keep the armor, but I let you go walking around with an Assault Rifle, well. . ."

I freeze up for a moment and then sigh, shrugging the rifle off my shoulder and handing it over to him. "There ya go. Ain't got no more fire arms do ya? It's my ass on tha line if I someone ends up shot. . . well someone other than onna you scabs."

I force myself not to look down at my ribs, where the .38 is resting comfortably beneath my armor and shake my head. "Nope."

"Alright, head on back in, and git about your business. If ya decide to head back out there, I'll toss your gun back at ya."

I nod, and head back out.



Some kind of commotion going on.



. . .Escaped slave. I want to do something but. . . with this peashooter and three of them. . . I. . . I just watch and head back.



I'm just going to sl--



I turn around to find the woman from before. Right, could have expected her to wait for me to sleep away my depression.

I'm tired though, so I just reach into my armor and pull out the note and hand it to her, saying, "Yeah."

She reads it slowly, and I can see tears welling up in her eyes. "He's dead? But he promised m--he promised us he would come back. . . I. . . I have to let the others know."

I simply nod, and repeat myself. "Yeah."

She shoves a couple of stimpaks into my hands, thanking me for my help, despite how things turned out, and then walks away, looking even more like a corpse than before.



I turn back to the bed and collapse onto it.

---------- Post added at 07:16 AM ---------- Previous post was at 07:15 AM ----------

Not all that happy with this one, to be honest. Had a lot of trouble writing it and it just didn't feel like it was flowing right.

Hopefully that's just me being my own worst critic, however.

Also, hopefully the next one flows a bit better.