Tales of the Terminally Dense.

The Desert: Part 1. Feb. 19th, 29479

Now, I'm not a very eloquent man. Never claimed to be. Most would say I'm not that bright either, or that I don't have a serious bone in my body. I just say I'm having fun with life. But when you're standing in the desert, staring down eight huge blood spiders, poison in your veins and no ammo in your guns? Ain't no amount of fancy words that'll keep you from hitting the reclaim terminal. Ain't much to laugh about either.

Maybe I should back up a little bit.

See, I didn't really think much about stopping in Mack's. Hell, I used to go there all the time, back in the old days--Me and the Goons would rally down at the bar for some booze after a long day of... well, doing whatever it was we did. Really, those days are a little fuzzy. Might be due to all the time we spent at Mack's.

For whatever reason I had the jones for revisitin' the old days (even if I couldn't remember 'em very well) so I loaded up the Kodiak and headed out towards Hope. Desolate little place. Lots of desert, lots of big bugs, lots of... well, actually, ain't much of anything else. But it used to be home to the best group of rough and tumble idiots Rubi-Ka had ever seen. 'Used to' being the operative words here.

I kicked a little bit of rubble that used to be our old headquarters building, sent it tumbling across the empty lot. Lotta warm feelings there. People drunker than hell, howlin' to the moon, screaming about stairs and pusher bots and being protected and all sorts of other crap that didn't make a lick of sense. Almost wonder if Mack didn't add somethin' a little stronger than just water to the booze. Oh well.

Mack was looking healt... well, he was looking like Mack. Don't think he remembered me, but with as many people as have floated through his bar over the years, I'm not surprised. Was just me in there and, to be honest, didn't look like many came through any more--Some of the seats had dust on 'em, and Mack seemed sorta happy to be serving up a brew. Felt bad for him, really. Guess people just don't come out this way much.

Anyway, I sat down, popped the top on my can, and took a drink. Always amazes me how some places never really change--Oh, sure, there were a few more bullet holes in the walls, and what looked like some kinda burnt body part over in the corner--That wasn't there before... But, otherwise, it still looked, felt, and even smelled like Mack's. Hell it smelled like Mack himself--And as a side note, never try and convince 'im that he needs to shower a little more regularly. Last time, one of the Goons got a bottle shoved through his throat. Not in--*Through*.

But, hey, that's just Mack. Gotta love the big guy.

So yeah. Sittin' there, drinkin', feelin' a little sorry for myself... and then *she* walked in. Red hair? Check. Tall? Check. Big pair of... knives? Check.

Yep. This was where everything started to go wrong.

(( Note: I'm bored, so I'm going to be making a few stories based on the life, times, and adventures of my favourite little idiot. These will *not* be in order--The story in this post is going to be interspersed throughout the thread, like bookends around other tales about the loveable doofus. We'll be switching styles, perspectives, formats--The whole nine yards. But you'll know when it's done, so that's all that matters. Enjoy. Or not. That's up to you. ))

The Brothers Clyburn, Part 1: Brotherly Love-Like Thing. July 8th, 29476

A gentle, cool wind curled off the lake's surface, blowing trails of dust and sand over the dimly-lit grass. Water rippled against it's shore, pushing against the sandy loam and washing streams of silt into it's murky depths.

"Come on, man--You just gonna lay there all day or what?"

Kyle's head tilted lazily to one side, eyebrow cocked lazily and a grin on his face. "What?"

"Whaddya mean, 'what'? We gotta go soon, dude--Remember? Easy money? Trip up north? Killin' some mutants and making mad creds? Any of this ring a bell?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know," he said sleepily, rolling his head back to look up at the dusky sky. "Just... comfy."

"You mean just *lazy*, you slacker," said Korrenth, slowly slumping to the ground nearby. He grabbed a small pebble and sent it skipping across the waters of the lake. "C'mon--I've already got the Kodiak loaded *and* snagged your ammo from the store. All I need now is for you to get off your ass and start movin'."

Kyle remained still, a slight grin on his face as he gazed to the sky; Purple, blue, orange--All meshed together, met by rays of dwindling sunlight. "You ever just... sit back and wonder why we're here?"

This elicited an audible groan from the man sitting beside him, head drooping down in frustration. "Come on, man, we are totally not starting this philosophical crap again. Not today."

"No, seriously, have you? I mean... this is such an amazing place. So many things here that haven't even been touched--Places to explore, adventures to have--"

"Money to be made and mutants to bump off, so let's roll!" Korrenth said as he hopped up, throwing another pebble into the lake's waters. He turned to the man beside him, looking down with a resigned sigh and quiet words. "Seriously bro. It's time."

Laughter escaped his lips as he shifted, propping himself upwards and rolling to his feet. "See, that's the problem with you," said Kyle, adjusting the straps on his chestplate as he continued on. "Business, money, and loot. That's all it is to you, man--No sense of adventure."

"Hey, if it wasn't for me, we wouldn't be eating tomorrow--I'm the only reason we can actually afford food. So yeah, my mind *is* always on creds, 'cause if I don't do it? You sure as hell won't."

Kyle scoffed, and just rolled his eyes. "Swear to the fates, I don't have a twin. There's no way someone as stiff as you could ever even be related to me."

"Hah! You're the fluke, not me. I just so happen to be perfectly normal," said Korrenth, straightening his back momentarily. "Besides," he continued on, picking two sheathed swords from the ground. "Someone has to keep your head from floating off it's shoulders."

He laughed once more, a smirk spreading across his face. "Damon Korrenth Clyburn. Biggest killjoy on Rubi-Ka."

"Daniel Kyle Clyburn. Biggest goofball on Rubi-Ka," came the retort, focusing his eyes upon the Kodiak nearby. "Now. Let's go take care of business."

(( Yes, it really did take me three weeks to write this piece of drivel. And, yes, I realize it's not the greatest in the world, but it's important. Just bare with me here. ))

The Desert: Part 2. Feb. 19th, 29479

The first thing that ran through my mind was that this lady looked like a cat. No, I don't mean that--For fates sake, it's not like she had fur or nothin'. No, she just... slinked. Stalked. Looked like she was ready to pounce on something. And it just so happened I was the only mouse around.

She snagged a triple-x from Mack, leaning back against the bar. Lady musta been a good five-foot-nine, all leg; fit, trim, and short red hair--Looked like flames leaping off the top of her head. Short leather top, tight leather pants, bronzed skin and blue eyes... I've seen better lookin' chicks, but damn if I can remember when.

Really, I probably shouldn't have been staring at her. In fact, that was probably the first big mistake of the day. But, the day was still young, and there was a lot more comin' that I could screw up.

When she caught me looking, she smiled. I should have been scared, but, well, I've always been kinda dumb like that. Next thing I know she's making her way over to the table, beer firmly in hand, target firmly in mind, and me feelin' sorta firmly myself. I did my best to straighten up, and at least attempt to look smooth.

We gabbed back and forth for a few minutes--You know, standard routine. 'What brings a girl like you out to a place like this?' and 'What makes a guy like you think you can talk to a girl like me?' - That sorta thing. She was a little stand-offish at first, but no one can resist the old Clyburn charm; before I knew it, she was sitting right across from me and explaining the whole deal.

"I'm looking for a friend," she said between sips, eyes staring at me like ice-covered daggers. "Went on a hunting trip in the desert. Never came home, never showed up at the reclaim terminal. Haven't heard from her in days, and she's not on the radar." Pressing a few buttons on her wrist-comm, she pulled up a picture of another goddess--Beautiful black hair, pale skin... bit too skinny for my tastes, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't have added her to The Long List.

"Her name's Desi. Works for a local trading group. Thought she had a tip on a crashed shipment out this way... told her she shouldn't go alone, but she didn't wanna split the profits." The picture dissapeared, and she returned to the can. "You... haven't seen her, have you?" Something about the question made the hairs on my neck stand up straight--Maybe it was how she said it, maybe it was that same, cold stare... but there defintely wasn't something right.

Shaking my head, I took another sip, shifting slightly in my chair. One little trick I learned, back in the day, was to note how your guns felt with and without ammo in 'em--Quick shake of my hips told me the boys were full, and that I could rock if need be. The look in her eyes softened, mouth drooping ever-so-subtly... and I knew what was about to happen.

She took a deep breath, and started the routine that I knew all too well: First, dissapointment. Then anger. Then desperation. Then... the plea for help.

"Dammit," she muttered softly, eyes shifting to one corner of the table, not even looking at me anymore. "I *told* her she shouldn't come out here alone. I *knew* better, I..." she sighed again, standing quickly from the table, practicaly shoving the chair away from herself. "I'm sorry for wasting your time."

As she turned away to head for the door, I began a mental countdown. 5--She was walking. 4--Her fists balled. 3--She slowed down slightly. 2--The shoulders dropped. 1--"Look, I... I..." With a final sigh and a lowered head, she turned back to me, staring from across the bar. "I need help. I don't know this area real well, and I... I need help. I can pay you."

Right on time.

I waved her back over, leaning against my elbows on the table. I figured what the hell--I was bored anyway, and I might as well make this trip mean something. So she sat down and spilled out as many details as she could about her missing friend--Name, clearance level, job, appearance, faction. And, with that last one, we hit warning sign number two. Turns out Ms. Desi was a Clanner.

Now don't get me wrong--I ain't got nothin' against Clan types. Frankly, I could give a damn less who you support, long as you're a decent guy and have enough creds to pay me on time. But going on a search and rescue mission for a clanner just... sounded like a bad idea. Hit that little button in the back of my brain that said 'You're an idiot for doing this'.

"Awesome! We got a deal then?" She said to me, extending her hand. Remember how I told you I wasn't that bright? Well, shaking her hand pretty much proved that point.

"By the way--My name is Sandy."

Wish I'd never known.

(( For those of you who pay attention to details, I'm *not* contradicting myself. All will be explained later. ))

The Brothers Clyburn, Part 2: Walking Away. Nov. 24th, 29476

"What is WRONG with you?" he screamed, slamming the beer can down violently. A small shower of foam went upwards, landing on the wooden table between them both.

"There's nothing *wrong* with me, Kyle--I'm just doing what I have to do!"

Kyle's face scrunched, lips curling into a sneer. "Don't even try to lie to me, man--Just don't. You know damn good and well you don't 'have' to do this. We're doing fine out here on our own--We don't need the money that badly."

A sigh of resignation exited Korrenth's lips, slumping down into the chair's seat. He raised his own can, staring lazily at the polished metal, gazing at nothing in particular. "It's not enough, bro. It's just... not enough."

"The hell it isn't," he snarled, shoving his seat backwards as he stood. Marching to his brother, Kyle leaned down upon the table, levelling his gaze to the other man's eyes. "What's the real reason, Korr?"

His words were met with silence, brother staring impassively at the can. "Dammit dude, answer me!" he shouted again, palm slamming against the wood. Korrenth's head jerked quickly, temper flaring high, peering up at from behind his sunglasses.

"It's not enough!!", he shouted in kind, standing to face Kyle eye to eye. His chest bowed, shoulders squaring--Kyle knew from his posture that he was nearly ready to draw the swords at his side. "Tell me you're not tired of this one-cred crap, man! Tell me you're not sick to death of the cheap beer and eating beans every night! Tell me you're not sick of this damn town and these damn people and this damn shack we call a house! Tell me you're not sick of it!"

"I'd rather be sick of this than work for something like the Tek!" he said in defense, putting himself one step closer to Korrenth. He stared into the mirrored shades, seeing his own angered reflection glaring back, brow furrowed and jaw clenched. "You *know* how bad those bastards can be--You've *seen* it, Korr! How can you just drop your beliefs and go work for someone like them?!"

Behind the sunglasses, Korrenth's eyes flickered slightly, a gentle twitch to his face... before snarling, shoving his way past his brother. "This conversation is over," he muttered, pushing past Kyle's shoulder and towards the door.

Kyle stood there in silence for a moment, just watching as his brother stalked through the small house. "So... so what? That's it? You're just gonna walk out of here and head to Rome?" Korrenth stopped dead in his tracks, inches away from the door.

"Yeah. That's it," came Korrenth's resigned reply, not even bothering to turn around. "I'll send you money when I can. Take care of yourself, bro." And with that, the door opened... and closed behind him, filling the room with silence.

Kyle stood in place, gazing at the spot where his brother had once been. He heard the roar of the Kodiak coming to life, but never once registered it--His mind was elsewhere, stuck on the previous conversation, attempting to rationalize what had just occoured.

The sound of the engines faded out into the distance long before Kyle finally stirred, retaking his seat at the table. He picked up the beer, long since going warm, and chugged back what little bit was left, mind going blank and numb. Several hours later, when the first beams of sunlight began striking against the table, he hadn't moved an inch.

Interlude 1: Making a Decision. May 29th, 29479

The fireplace kept things warm, sending it's flickering light across the carpet and couches, reflections of flames catching themselves within the young man's sunglasses. He sat still, watching the patterns of fire and smoke, breaking away only to take a drink from the ever-present bottle in his hand.

"You guys really shouldn't be there... just leave 'em alone," he said, sighing into the communication band.

The alcohol was no longer harsh. The pain of taking a shot had diminished long ago, replacing it with a numb flow underneath his skin, filling his body with anesthetic and a diminished sense of self. The air was warm all around him--Heat penetrating every last available pour, the only sensation available by this point.

"An ex-girlfriend?" she asked, something coy and playful in her voice. All he could do was shake his head. "I wish."

He tried to think about the night's events. Something so simple, something so stupid. Nothing that easy in the world, and yet he was still antagonizing over it all. It was dumb to even think of it--Dumb to even think of the offer. He couldn't leave, and he knew that--There was no way that they would ever let him go, not without a fight.

He tried to ignore the brush of her hand, tried not to even recognize the light touch against his jacket. But it stung worse than a thousand slaps, and he pulled away as quickly as she did.

But there it was, floating right in the front of his mind. A jumble of words and feelings, a tear between duty and freedom, between his desire to protect and his dream to be happy. A few words--A moment or two where he could see something bending and breaking, both in himself and the person he was with. A moment that took every last bit of the past few years and put it into the forefront. Something no one else alive knew... and he had no idea why he told her.

"Not here to cause static," he says, raising his hands defensively. "Just wanted to offer a beautiful woman a drink. That's all."

He got used to the sound of the door opening and closing nearby--People would pop their heads in for a moment, no doubt looking for a party of some sort, and just fade away upon seeing no one but him. He was ok with that. The last thing he needed was company. The last thing he needed was anyone.

"Damon K. Clyburn. Corporate shill."

Korrenth took another drink.

"Maybe one day we can settle the debate about swords versus guns, eh?" he said, chuckling softly. The reply surprised him, both in tones and words. "... maybe, maybe. But not too soon, ok?"

The thoughts richocheted across his brain like bullets, smashing and burning, breaking through glass sheets of rationale and logic. And in the middle of it all, standing still and quiet, was the question of 'why?'

"So you're a coward then, is that it?"

It made no sense to even still be stuck on the conversations, or to even be stuck *here*. The fireplace was dying low, the bottle was emptying itself, his head felt as though it would roll off his shoulders at any minute... but he was still there, trying to make sense of where he went wrong.

"I'm making myself into a hero, Jen! A motherf**king martyr!!"

The clouds lifted, and thoughts became clear again. A plan began forming in his mind, bringing light to ideas that sounded insane... but made perfect sense. Something that could possibly be the final answer to all his problems. He looked at the bottle one last time, and sat it onto the ground beside him, nodding resolutly to himself before stumbling towards the door.

"Don't worry, Korr. We're all one big happy family here," she said--He couldn't tell if it was sarcasm or just blissful ignorance. He frowned and grumbled, eyes still locked on the wall. "Yeah. One big happy family."

(( I apologize to anyone if I got your quotes slightly wrong. I recently lost all my logs, and don't have reference material to go back on. :P ))

The Desert: Part 3. Feb. 19th, 29479

One thing you learn about Rubi-Ka real quick: When you've got two suns? You've got twice the heat. And out in the desert, it's almost enough to fry your brain like a chirop egg. Just not nearly as tasty.

I'd only been out there for fifteen minutes and already I could feel myself shriveling up to nothing. I swear I could see steam rising from my pores, feel the sweat boil and evaporate on my arms. Even when I reached down to pat one of the twins, my hand recoiled in pain--The metal was firey to the touch, like it was threatening to melt at any given moment.

Every breath I took felt like it was scorching my lungs. My eyes felt like they were going to dry up, shrink into raisins. The horizon danced and wavered like some kind of bellydancer, enticing me to succumb to a heat-driven delirium--A constant reminder of how everything I touched tried to burn off my already flaming skin.

Look, in case you ain't getting this, it was warm out.

Anyway. I climbed back in the Kodiak and cranked up the A/C, tossing off my hat. Hot damn that felt good. Sweat nearly streamed off my forehead, pouring down from my face as I reached for a nearby towel, trying to think about my game plan. I realized right about then that in order to *think* about my game plan, I kinda needed a game plan in the first place. So I started putting the puzzle pieces together.

First thing we had was a missing girl. Name of Desi Arrender, callsign 'Limboland'. She worked wth some small trading group inside the Clans, doing odd sales jobs to pay the rent. According to Sandy, she was the nicest, sweetest person you'd ever meet. Be that as it may, I get the feeling she wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger if I ran across her somewhere. I may not have a problem with clanners, but they usually have some kind of problem with me. Gonna have to work on that some day.

Next thing we had was some story about her heading out in search of a wrecked cargo ship. Now, this is where I started to call shenanigans, 'cause something here just didn't sound right. If it was a major shipment, then how come I hadn't heard of anyone else going out after it? Hell, for that matter, how come I hadn't heard anything about a ship going down in the first place? None of the local news feeds even had a mention along those lines.

And on top of that, why would she come out here alone? She only had a clearance level of twenty-three, and according to Sandy she didn't kit out for battle that often. I mean, it's not like I was that stout at the time either, but at least I kept my guns handy and could run fast enough if the need arose. And it's not like I'm saying I'm that great at math, but even I knew that things wern't adding up.

This was the last place she'd sent a transmission, though. This was the last place anyone had heard from her, and the last place she'd been traced to. So that meant something had to be here somewhere--A clue, a track, anything. 'course, to find that, it meant I'd have to do the last thing I wanted to. Go back outside.

I decided to step into the back for a few moments and take the time to get outfitted in some heated plasteel--Yeah, I stuck out like a sore thumb in the sand, but it sure kept me from burning alive. Never understood why they called it 'heated' if it was designed to keep you cool. Then again, there's a lot about the world that I don't understand, so I just sorta stopped asking questions a while back.

Wasn't much point in delaying any longer, so I bit the metaphorical bullet and hopped out. The armor helped, thankfully, but I felt a bit exposed--The stuff was bright red, and wasn't anywhere near as good in quality as my Carb. Only reason I kept it around was for situations just like this, and... well, with the way that nearby vulture was staring at me, I can't say I was feeling too comfy.

I started a search pattern, making a wide spiral outwards from the Kodiak, searching for anything that might be outta place. Few corpses around, but nothing that matched her DNA profile... some birds... a lotta scrub and some tumbleweeds. Definitely not any hot women. Plenty of hot, mind you, but no hot women. Then again, I guess any woman out in the desert would be considered hot. 'cause, you know, it's warm out there, and... ok, fine--That one sounded a lot funnier in my head.

Moving on.

I spent a good two or three hours out there looking around, searching over the dirt, looking at the sparse grass, having the vultures look at me... and nothing. Not a damned thing. I was getting tired and frustrated, about ready to just say screw it and not even worry anymore. And that's when I saw something that sure enough fit that 'out of place' profile. A tiny bit of brown cloth, right on the ground.

I leaned over and picked it up, looking over the threads. There was blood on one corner, and it wasn't that old at all. I placed it into my comm unit and did a general scan--Sure enough, it matched Desi's DNA. Which means we had something to go on... and most importantly, we had a scent.

(( Nope, not dead yet. Just been sick. Not that anyone really cares, but I figured the three of you who read this might wanna know where I'd been. ;) ))

[With 337 views, I'd say there's more that read your stories. I'm immensely enjoying it :)]

{ * nods* Keep it coming..* leans her head on her hand and waits for more}

Its actually quite good.. Keep em coming.