Citadel: From The Ashes (Story)

"Koda, come." The command was simple and easy for the animal to follow. It approached its master quickly, standing at his side while Tars knelt in the dirt, digging at the soft earth and mud with his bare hands, having lost his digging tool after his previous find. Of course every find made him happy, but that one in particular had excited him far more than normal. The mashup of metal and fur laid down, watching with curiosity as Tars pulled layer after heavy layer of soaked earth away from his find until he found was he was looking for. With a smile he lifted it out of the ground, wiping away the mud until he could make out a serial number.

"Looks like you'll be getting a new brother or sister after all." In his hand, Tars held a battery pack, one that had been damaged by the Blackout but not destroyed by it. If there was a god, surely it was a gift from that almighty being, for such a thing could power his machines indefinitely, if treated properly. After wiping it off a bit more, Tars set the object in a pack draped over his mechanical friend's back, then took a look up into the sky.

"Well I guess we'd better get home, hmm?"

The smoke danced in intricate patterns from the lit end of Senecas menthol. A slight breeze rustled through the trees, pushing the smoke up and away, allowing it to disappear into the darkness. The moon was out, shining brightly when it wasn't concealed behind the thin, whispy clouds dotting the sky. The city lights tried to contaminate the pure white glow of the moon, but being closer to the edge of the city, she was bathed in its evanescent hue. The view of the city was magnificent, even from where she sat, lights twinkling against the darkened sky.

It was a shame she didn't live in that suite, the view was spectacular. It was just high enough for the noise below to be dulled, but not too high where the air was hard to breathe.

A deep sigh followed a long drag from the nearly burned out smoke. With a flick of her wrist, Seneca flung the cigarette over the side of the balcony, and turned to walk inside, her long skirt billowing behind her. Without looking at the man lying on the floor, his blood staining the pristine white carpet, she grabbed her rifle case, and exited the building.

The trip home was a long one, taking Tars well into the dark hours before he would reach his residence, a small split level home on the outskirts of Atlanta, just far enough away to be quiet without losing the protection of the Georgian Militia. Quite a bit of deception had come into play when he chose that dwelling to be his permanent home, for anonymity was his best friend, next to, of course, Koda.

The basement was concealed from view, and was, in fact, lined with lead to shield it from the effects of another EMP or to resist radioactive environments. The windows were barred with iron rods to prevent break-ins. In the few areas that were visible to the outside on the main level, one would see candles providing the only light, though it was just a clever illusion.

Tars' home was one of the few left in the world that still ran on electricity.

Well, not electricity exactly, but close to it. Machines, both simple and complex, worked around the clock to provide power to what he deemed to be necessary functions, such as temperature control, food storage, and sanity provisions. Not a single soul had stepped inside his home since he moved there, apart from one, who was never seen or heard from again.

It was immediately apparent, however, that someone else had been inside, for Tars' OCD beat suddenly, furiously inside his heart when he noticed that the dining table had been disturbed. Volumes of books and detailed maps and blueprints had been pushed to the side so that a single, pristine, white envelope would be perfectly visible.

Cautiously Tars lifted the item and opened it up, finding naught but a single letter inside, addressed to Tars specifically.

"Hello Mr. Tarson,

You do not know me yet. My name is Alan Wexler, and I represent Mr. Farthy, a benefactor here in Atlanta. We have an offer for you, a job that one with your unique set of skills would find challenging, but extremely rewarding. I cannot share the details of the job through such an insecure method, but if you are interested, you can find out more at the Last Chance diner in downtown Atlanta. It's hard to miss. The meeting will begin promptly at sundown. Please do not be late. The reward is quite substantial, I can assure you."

Sincerely,
Alan Wexler
GM- House of Internal Services

The trip back to her home was uneventful and boring, something that Seneca was all too used to. She lived deep in the woods, a small two bedroom cabin, hidden between a thick patch of trees. Her mission coordinator knew where she hid herself, and that she liked her privacy and hated surprises. So when she saw the flickering lights on in her home, she sighed, but kept moving and entered her home as if it did not bother her.

"Seneca." The man greeted from her couch.

"Mr. White." She returned the greeting and set her rifle case by the door, pulling off her strappy sandals. "Another one already?" An eyebrow raised.

"Yes. The details are in the packet on the table, you are to get ready and leave immediately." The man stood, and faced the sniper.

"Okay. Sounds fine to me." Seneca pulled the pin holding her hair up, and shook out the tangles, running her fingers through the thick strands. 

"I should warn you that you are not the only one tasked with this particular... objective. Be wary of the others." With those words Mr. White picked up his own things, and left her home.

Waiting a few moments after she left, the girl grabbed the manilla envelope from the table and popped it open. She barely got through the first page, before she had to stop, a yawn shaking her whole body. 'It's not until tonight, I can make it to Atlanta before early afternoon. Probably. I'll leave after a quick nap; whoever is doing the briefing will have to wait if they really want me.' Seneca thought as she shifted her position, lying down on the sofa. Another yawn tore through her, and within minutes the young girl was fast asleep, the papers slipping from her hands, landing on the floor with a soft thump.

She awoke a few hours later, and packed a few essentials, including her rifle cleaning kit, and some clothes before she set out. Seneca had a few hours before sundown, and she was hardly ever late.

"Don't look at me like that. You know I can't bring you along. You know what'll happen if I do." Packing was usually an easy task, even if he hadn't been home for very long. But for Tars, it was quickly becoming quite the chore, as Koda was doing everything he could to delay his master's departure. Several times Tars had to physically move the anitech, though it didn't usually do much good to try. Not physically strong meant having a virtually impossible time moving the oversized cybernetc cat.

"If I take you with me, everyone will see you. Then they'll hunt you. Then they'll hunt me. I don't know about you, but I kind of fancy being alive, and i'd like to not fuck up my living streak, okay?" Koda did not seem all that convinced, choosing to protest by laying on Tars' bed and generally getting in the way of his master's activities.

For a moment they stared at each other, man and machine, both testing the other's metal. Who would break first? "Fine," Tars finally said with an exasperated sigh. "But if someone scraps you and sells you for parts don't come crying to me. Well... I guess you wouldn't be able to... cause you would be in pieces. Anyway, c'mon you lazy thing."

With that, the pair set off for Atlanta just as the sun began to set. It wasn't a long journey, but they took a few extra minutes just to scan for danger along the way.

The trek to Atlanta was a boring one. It seemed that nearly all of her travels were boring and were met with an annoyed expression. It was quiet, as usual, with no interruptions, as usual, and no specific dangers or excitement... as usual. It was irritatingly dull. Seneca didn't let that hinder her, or slow her down in the slightest, however, as her training had ingrained into her to be punctual above all else, get the mission, finish the mission, be on time. Follow every order, and do it in a timely manner. Everything was routine oriented and while it did end up dull, or uninteresting, Seneca could not deviate. The way she was raised, and the hellish things she went through would not allow her to change anything within it. It was almost as if she moved robotically, or on autopilot, needing no recharge or upgrade.

She was not one of the metal creations that were a forgery upon the real animals of the world, but she almost seemed as if she were, just programmed differently. Her objective, instead, was to rid the surface of the Earth of those creations and to once again build the world back to what it should have always been. Since the Blackout it hadn't seemed too difficult for her, and it paid pretty well considering, though she didn't have much to show for it. Bullets were expensive after all. But, it was something for her to pass the time, and she was very good at doing it.

Atlanta was brightly lit despite the sun nearly setting, and as per her usual habitual routine, Seneca set up her tripod, and scope to make sure there was nothing dangerous lurking around the diner she was supposed to be having her meeting at. Seneca wondered, briefly, what sort of mission she was being sent on this time. The information in the manila envelope had given her next to no details, and had been incredibly vague. Not to mention the fact that Mr. White had informed her that there was going to be others given the same objective and that she should be wary of them. How dangerous, exactly, was it going to be?

Was she going to need a partner? I really fucking hope not. she thought to herself as she packed up her tripod and trotted down to the diner. Seneca was great at carrying out her objective solo; ever the silent stalker, and excellent snipe, no one need know she was even there. An accomplice, someone else tailing along, without the necessary and proper training would only slow her down and hinder her completing her task, and that was not something she wanted.

"Sorry for being late," Seneca smiled as she entered the diner, finding where she needed to be, and seating herself down almost exactly when she was informed to be there. She had been exactly on time. Exactly. As she always was.

As Tars strolled through the town, he could not help but notice all the strange looks he received. In fact, he looked for them, watching everyone's reaction to Koda that he could. Most people did not appreciate his affinity for Citadel technology, but in his opinion, there was beauty in the workings. Where people saw monsters, he saw works of art. Where others saw enemies, he saw friends. Koda was remarkably well behaved for the type of creature it was, appearing to be completely domesticated. There was no leash to keep it at Tars' side, but then again he didn't really need one.

Tars pulled the door open and let Koda in first, sniffing at the air and turning toward every single patron, investigating them with his keen sense of smell to make sure all was well. Tars came in next, looking around until he spotted the familiar face. Together they strode forward, finally sitting down at their own table.

'A woman with a big gun, a pair of twin brothers who looked like they could stop a train bare-handed, a fancy man, and female grease monkey... this should be interesting...'

"Hope i'm not the last one here... I hate being last."