Friendly Girl

Posted: August 30, 2007 in Brawl, Dark, Fiction, Sci-Fi

Chapter 13

“Listen,” I said, placing my fork by my plate, which was occupied only by the remains of my delicious breakfast. “I appreciate the food and your company, but I need some questions answered. Like, what is going on? This whole thing with alternate universes, it all sounds like some crazy shit.”
Zariah grins good-naturedly at me. I’ve been talking with this great girl for only half an hour and she’s the best companionship I’ve had in a while, even before I got here.
She’s really the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen, soft blue eyes and pale skin, a bright smile and brighter hair. Tall and graceful, she whipped up this breakfast of eggs and toast easily using the stove and toaster as I rubbed the sleep away from my eyes. She chatted the whole time, telling me about herself and all of her inventions that kept Da Vinci running relatively smoothly. She was a weapons expert; her main project at the moment was developing a weapon for the Brawlers to hopefully stem the attacks from the Officers, preferably something not related to guns or explosives due to the beliefs of the Brawlers, and she was having a hard time with that. There weren’t too many potent armaments based on hand to hand combat that could defeat fast-firing guns.
“Sweetheart, I’ll be glad to tell you anything you need. Just let me know.” Her face beamed at me as she picked up both of our plates and carried them to the sink.
The tent’s interior had improved overnight, as Cat had told Zariah of my request before he himself retired to bed, and she had spent a little bit of time tweaking the appearance to make me more comfortable. They were small changes, really, but altogether things were a lot nicer than before. Colors were lighter and more cheerful, the room was tidied up and the furniture and appliances had been arranged much more tastefully than I could ever have managed.
“Well,” I sat back in my chair, admiring her slender neck, “tell me about the situation with the Brawlers and the Officers. Have these battles been happening frequently?”
She turned from the sink and walked back to the table, sitting down across from me. “The Brawlers came from Earth, just like you. I believe they originally came to this place two hundred years ago. They are descended from the Pavees, more commonly known as Irish Travellers. This particular nomadic group came from Great Britain before the Falling.”
“The Falling?”
“The End of Earth. Did Cat not tell you about that?”
“No…”
“Well then, we’ll leave that subject to him. Now, the Pavees came here greatly confused as to where they were. The necessary resources were all around them to build a home, and that is what they did, building upon their rich tradition with near-ritualistic bare knuckle fighting.”
“Over the years they found that the nomadic spirit was still aching in their souls, and so they resumed their wanderings. During this time they had several encounters with many different and diverse groups that had also arrived around the same time as the Travellers, resulting in trade and mostly goodwill amongst the factions.”
“One day, however, the Travellers met with a group that was not as friendly to them. These were the Officers, who had arrived not two centuries back like the Pavees, but only a year ago today. The Officers appear to be Neo-Nazis, and through further research in our databases we discovered that they were part of a particularily determined Nazi sect, hell bent on destroying minorities, homosexuals– anyone different from the ‘perfect’ Hitler model.”
“They are dressed in office clothing because of an operation about to go underway, a terrorist attack on several gay singles bars, and they had no time to change their work clothes. Note these were not your typical street gangbangers, but well-organized men in their thirties, with job positions ranging from waiting tables to managing large corporations.”
“Jesus,” I breathed, taking in all this information. “So they were planning to take down some gay bars and no one had any idea about it?”
“Yes, they were a rather covert organization. Very secretive, and good at hiding their true intentions. Anyway, the End of the World occurred before they could act upon their plan, and these enraged and heavily armed fascists took out their anger and confusion on the next group they saw; the Pavees.”
“The Officers took down about half of that wandering group and have been rampaging around this area for a year, killing everyone in sight, focusing mainly on the Pavees. The Travellers, horrified at such wanton brutality and hatred that they swore to never again use any of the ancient firearms they had used mainly for hunting deer and other animals for food.”
“As such, they turned to their beloved sport of bare-knuckle brawling as their only method of combat and renamed themselves the Brawlers.”
“Though certainly they aspired to be noble, it left them with some serious problems; without the use of their guns, they could no longer hunt for food nor defend themselves from the Officers and their vigilant pursuit. They attempted to solve these problems by becoming vegetarians and turning to the Saints for help.”
“So who are the Saints descended from?”
“The Saints are a coalition of small contingents from the groups on this world to form a military arm of peace, to help fight against corruption, sort of like a world-wide police force. It was created by Sol’s great great great grandfather, the Police Chief of the NYPD when the Falling came. When the Brawlers came to them for help, it was readily given. The Saints gave aid in constructing villages for the Brawlers and keeping them hidden, and for a while it worked.”
“Recently, however, the Officers have somehow gained a new supplier for weaponry, which should have dwindled to nothing by now. They keep coming back with better weapons, and now they’ve apparently gained access to such armaments as napalm bombs, rocket-propelled grenades and high–powered sniper rifles. No one is sure who could be–”
Swish. A shaft of light ripped into my room as someone pulled back the entrance flap. The light disappeared as the person came fully into the room, arms folded.
“I know who’s been supplying the Officers, Zariah,” Cat looked grim, his tone dark. “It’s the Muse of Nightmares.”

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Comments
  1. larkie says:

    finally caught up, ohoohoo.

    your zariah is much nicer than the actual girl. whose name I forgot. and every once in a while [in recent chapters most often] you have some seriously good descriptions, like the darkness being tangible, although i already talked to you about that.

    and the ending is all intriguing without being an obvious, obnoxious cliffhanger. I like this. so keep writing it.

    long chapters ftw.

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