only source of power...I want to make damn sure it isn't going to shit out on us.” She threw the remains of her meal away.
“ I'll take up watch on top of the comms tower, if no one is adverse to the idea,” Cage announced.
Greg looked at him, considering the situation. Next on the list was inventory. He had to hunt through every conceivable hiding place for spare weapons, ammo, medical supplies and anything else that might be useful.
He didn't exactly want to do the task himself, but Cage obviously wanted to be alone, for whatever reason. What if he just needed to decompress and get his shit together? What if he didn't like Greg? What if he thought Greg didn't like him and was trying to save him the trouble of spending the rest of the day with him?
He found that last one more unlikely, as they could each inventory separate areas...but it didn't matter. If Cage wanted to be alone, then so be it. It wasn't like they were under a time-crunch. “I don't mind.”
Kyra shrugged.
“ So be it, call me if you need me.” Cage left the room. They heard the elevator began its ascent.
Kyra glanced at Greg. “Is it me, or is he a little creepy?”
“Yeah, a little, but he's not all that bad. He's just...emotionless, and flat. I wonder if he was like that before this.”
“ Probably. I've run into a few like him in my time. He was probably very at home in the war.”
“ Maybe.”
They left the mess hall and went about their respective tasks. Greg worked in silence for an hour, hunting through the dormitory building for anything hidden by the inhabitants of the outpost. He tore apart the bedrooms, hunting under mattresses, in dressers, closets, and cabinets. He picked up a small, handheld computer he'd found in the security room that Kyra called an infopad and used it for inventory.
After the first hour, he opened up a line with Kyra and started talking.
“ So, you said you got shipped out to the wasteland under...unpleasant conditions. What happened?” he asked after they had gone through a few minutes of generic dialogue.
“ I...my boss...liked me. A lot. He was one of those dominating types who thought me saying 'No, go fuck yourself', over and over again was just ‘playing hard to get’. So, one night, he showed up at my quarters, drunk, and...I had to break his nose.”
“ Sounds like he got what he deserved.”
“ Yeah. Well, turns out he had some friends higher up the food chain. Friends with pull. He was pissed. They covered it up, had me transferred to the shittiest job he could find. Running comms maintenance in the middle of nowhere.”
Greg remained silent for a few moments. He was almost done with the dormitory building. He'd finished searching the individual rooms and now completed a full search of the rec room. All he'd managed to find was one pistol, hidden beneath a mattress.
“How did you take it?” he finally asked.
“ Good, at first. I just wanted to be away from that asshole. And I guess I've never been the most social of people...but it got to me after about a week. I couldn't just up and leave the base and head for the nearest bar or store or wherever else I wanted to go. The thing I missed the most was being able to just walk around the city...I tried to supplement it with walks in the wasteland, but it just didn't compare.”
Greg finished his search in silence, mulling over her words. He’d already decided to take everything he found to the security room, where he could double check it, and then organize it. He wasn't sure, but he was beginning to suspect that he had a love for categorization and organization. He left the dorms building.
“How long were you out here?” He broke the silence, again.
“ Two months until the unholy menace showed up.”
Greg came into the comms building, moving into the security center. He set the pistol down on the table and made a note on his infopad.
“You find anything?” Greg jumped, startled by her sudden inquiry in the dead quiet
“ I'll take up watch on top of the comms tower, if no one is adverse to the idea,” Cage announced.
Greg looked at him, considering the situation. Next on the list was inventory. He had to hunt through every conceivable hiding place for spare weapons, ammo, medical supplies and anything else that might be useful.
He didn't exactly want to do the task himself, but Cage obviously wanted to be alone, for whatever reason. What if he just needed to decompress and get his shit together? What if he didn't like Greg? What if he thought Greg didn't like him and was trying to save him the trouble of spending the rest of the day with him?
He found that last one more unlikely, as they could each inventory separate areas...but it didn't matter. If Cage wanted to be alone, then so be it. It wasn't like they were under a time-crunch. “I don't mind.”
Kyra shrugged.
“ So be it, call me if you need me.” Cage left the room. They heard the elevator began its ascent.
Kyra glanced at Greg. “Is it me, or is he a little creepy?”
“Yeah, a little, but he's not all that bad. He's just...emotionless, and flat. I wonder if he was like that before this.”
“ Probably. I've run into a few like him in my time. He was probably very at home in the war.”
“ Maybe.”
They left the mess hall and went about their respective tasks. Greg worked in silence for an hour, hunting through the dormitory building for anything hidden by the inhabitants of the outpost. He tore apart the bedrooms, hunting under mattresses, in dressers, closets, and cabinets. He picked up a small, handheld computer he'd found in the security room that Kyra called an infopad and used it for inventory.
After the first hour, he opened up a line with Kyra and started talking.
“ So, you said you got shipped out to the wasteland under...unpleasant conditions. What happened?” he asked after they had gone through a few minutes of generic dialogue.
“ I...my boss...liked me. A lot. He was one of those dominating types who thought me saying 'No, go fuck yourself', over and over again was just ‘playing hard to get’. So, one night, he showed up at my quarters, drunk, and...I had to break his nose.”
“ Sounds like he got what he deserved.”
“ Yeah. Well, turns out he had some friends higher up the food chain. Friends with pull. He was pissed. They covered it up, had me transferred to the shittiest job he could find. Running comms maintenance in the middle of nowhere.”
Greg remained silent for a few moments. He was almost done with the dormitory building. He'd finished searching the individual rooms and now completed a full search of the rec room. All he'd managed to find was one pistol, hidden beneath a mattress.
“How did you take it?” he finally asked.
“ Good, at first. I just wanted to be away from that asshole. And I guess I've never been the most social of people...but it got to me after about a week. I couldn't just up and leave the base and head for the nearest bar or store or wherever else I wanted to go. The thing I missed the most was being able to just walk around the city...I tried to supplement it with walks in the wasteland, but it just didn't compare.”
Greg finished his search in silence, mulling over her words. He’d already decided to take everything he found to the security room, where he could double check it, and then organize it. He wasn't sure, but he was beginning to suspect that he had a love for categorization and organization. He left the dorms building.
“How long were you out here?” He broke the silence, again.
“ Two months until the unholy menace showed up.”
Greg came into the comms building, moving into the security center. He set the pistol down on the table and made a note on his infopad.
“You find anything?” Greg jumped, startled by her sudden inquiry in the dead quiet
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