Vitality In A Wasteland

10

A boot struck Ace right in his side, he jumped up yelling "Ouch!" He turned his head frantically before settling upon an unfamiliar sight. He was in a metal room covered bottom to top with strange sticky notes with mathematical equations. Weapons littered the ground and mattress Ace had shot up from, something was buzzing in the walls and bright lights of all colours shun from several lights surrounding and alter where a rather mysterious sword in its sheathe sat.

A figure loomed near Ace; it took him a moment for the realisation to strike.

"Finally," said Ross. He walked up to a small desk and pulled at straps around his neck, slowly he lifted his mask, he turned around and the sight of his face almost made Ace want to scream. He was an old man well into his sixties or even more, wrinkles deeper than plant roots and eyes... if only they were real. For they were a shining silver with small red lights for dilated pupils. His eyes were secured by wires coming out from their sockets to his ears that looked as if they were almost completely chewed off with some sort of hearing aids clamping them down. Across his mouth sat scars almost from cheek to those raggedy ears. He was a sight far beyond terrifying.

"Don't be alarmed," His voice sounded huskier without his mask. "I'm a sight to behold sure but I'm harmless... sort of. Hah!"

He pulled of his chains of ammo and sat his coat upon the table, what he revealed shocked Ace. For the old man had arms of steel and loose wiring, bullets left several holes and rust patches had been welded to keep them to his frame, even into his shirt, Ace could make details that were definitely... not human. There was a dim red light where his heart was meant to be and a rip by his left hip revealed some sort of small fan.

"What? see something you like?" Teased Ross. "Oh, you're checking out my unmentionables I see." He chuckled and came closer; Ace took a step back. Ross pulled up his shirt, a frame of wiring and what looked like complex computer components all held together instead of a human torso. A bright red light. Ace gasped.

"Ha-ha!" Roared Ross. "You know what I am, Baka?"

Ace shook his head fast and reflexively clenched his fists.

"I'm that you could call an in-between, not fully human or machine. Well, the right word my creator called it was a centurion. Don't worry he's dead now, long now and I'm here. Not quite alive or dead."

"Your... I..."

"Confused? Well good, can't let you fully understand what I am yet. Plus, right now I am just a glimpse of the Wasteland's curiosities. You shall see." He walked back to the table. "Catch." He threw Ace bread and a bottle of water. "Drink and eat quickly. We have so much to do. Hah!"

"To do?" Asked Ace.

Ross opened a doorway hidden by sticky notes, put back on his gas mask helmet and slammed the door behind him. Ace stood in complete dismay. He reached to his forehead and shot his hand down immediately, he felt stitches, he ran his hands over them again, a long patch of stiches running from just above his eyelid to the beginning of his hairline. He wore a fresh clean T shirt and jeans, he checked his previous wounds to find stitches across his left knee and smaller band aids.

He sat down on the mattress, starring at the strange notes and symbols across the room. He picked at his rations, his belly growled so he took a few bites and sips of water. Moments later the door flew open, Ross peeked his head through. "All done? Good! Now come."

Ace stood up slowly. "We don't have all day," said Ross.

Ace had to shield his eyes once he left the room, Ross threw on a gas mask for Ace and said, "Never forget this, Baka. Trust me."

Ace's eyes adjusted to a bright horizon of sand as far as the eye could see. Something hazy lay just as a slither of blue in the corner of his vision. Squares rising to the ground and to the clouds, he squinted to see huge towers that stretched beyond just by the horizon. He turned to see that the room he came from was, a small compartment hooked up to a long rusted away car with an open back. Ross' car was parked under a tarp.