Phalanix
29-05-2008, 13:39
How long had it been since some good had come out of Phalanix? For the past dozen years the nation lay silent, a dead husk of a giant, still crippled from the bombardment she sustained. Yet here she was, in what small way thriving again.
A meager government had formed from survivors, those troops who had survived hidden away in bomb shelters and the politicians who fled the country before the act that maimed it.
Most of the wasteland cities were willing to accept the new government, have a chance at rebuilding their homeland into the beauty she once was. Though some larger ones resisted and often were taken via force, the traditional Phalanixian way of doing things.
Knightly McKay has seen it all, it was eerie walking down the streets of the new capital, for once not being hunted for his combat ability.
He had seen so much blood shed during the second civil war that he fled, sought asylum in another nation that had been his second home. However with the death of his mentor and possibly the closest thing to his mother he ever knew he left and began to drift from nation to nation. Only recently had he returned, reestablishing communications with some of his contacts that survived the war.
What little news he got from them was always the same, the current president was searching for any surviving caches of weapons and such to help improve the defense of the nation or there was a search for the council vault. The later always made him shudder.
How many names had he gone by, how many lives did he lead? McKay sighed as he took a seat at one of the cafés in the city. How many years has it been since I last set foot in these lands, he asked himself as he waited for be served.
“Well here’s a shock, you not drinking yourself silly,” a young woman whispered in McKay’s ear before planting a friendly kiss on his cheek.
“I have a few more things to do and I’d rather do them sober. Besides I’m trying to blend in, not get into a bar fight,” he responded with a weak smile.
“How long has it been hmm? How long since you last saw me and just didn’t fuck me to get some info? You know how much I hate it when you jerk me around,” Ash responded in kind before turning to the waiter whom had just arrived, “Just a coffee black.”
“Same thing please,” McKay said to the waiter, waiting for him to leave before continuing, “Look I’m sorry, I am trying to change and not be that cynical monster I was. I’m happy you kept things quiet and I will repay that debt down the road but for now I have several issues I need to resolve. I have a few graves to visit and some demons to deal with.”
How long has it been since she died? How long since Qui killed her? You don’t remember do you? You should, you loved her with every fiber of your being and you know it. Do you even remember her face?
“You need to speak with him about that,” Ash went on not even noticing McKay’s sudden lapse in concentration, “At this point keeping your old armor in storage is useless as the government will locate it. Best thing you can do is part it out and make a bit of money then stick with your usual tactics of plasma blade combat.”
You don’t. Terrifying isn’t it, not remembering her face. She was the most important person to you and yet you can’t remember her face. Do you remember even remember her touch?
“Are you even listening to me?”
A meager government had formed from survivors, those troops who had survived hidden away in bomb shelters and the politicians who fled the country before the act that maimed it.
Most of the wasteland cities were willing to accept the new government, have a chance at rebuilding their homeland into the beauty she once was. Though some larger ones resisted and often were taken via force, the traditional Phalanixian way of doing things.
Knightly McKay has seen it all, it was eerie walking down the streets of the new capital, for once not being hunted for his combat ability.
He had seen so much blood shed during the second civil war that he fled, sought asylum in another nation that had been his second home. However with the death of his mentor and possibly the closest thing to his mother he ever knew he left and began to drift from nation to nation. Only recently had he returned, reestablishing communications with some of his contacts that survived the war.
What little news he got from them was always the same, the current president was searching for any surviving caches of weapons and such to help improve the defense of the nation or there was a search for the council vault. The later always made him shudder.
How many names had he gone by, how many lives did he lead? McKay sighed as he took a seat at one of the cafés in the city. How many years has it been since I last set foot in these lands, he asked himself as he waited for be served.
“Well here’s a shock, you not drinking yourself silly,” a young woman whispered in McKay’s ear before planting a friendly kiss on his cheek.
“I have a few more things to do and I’d rather do them sober. Besides I’m trying to blend in, not get into a bar fight,” he responded with a weak smile.
“How long has it been hmm? How long since you last saw me and just didn’t fuck me to get some info? You know how much I hate it when you jerk me around,” Ash responded in kind before turning to the waiter whom had just arrived, “Just a coffee black.”
“Same thing please,” McKay said to the waiter, waiting for him to leave before continuing, “Look I’m sorry, I am trying to change and not be that cynical monster I was. I’m happy you kept things quiet and I will repay that debt down the road but for now I have several issues I need to resolve. I have a few graves to visit and some demons to deal with.”
How long has it been since she died? How long since Qui killed her? You don’t remember do you? You should, you loved her with every fiber of your being and you know it. Do you even remember her face?
“You need to speak with him about that,” Ash went on not even noticing McKay’s sudden lapse in concentration, “At this point keeping your old armor in storage is useless as the government will locate it. Best thing you can do is part it out and make a bit of money then stick with your usual tactics of plasma blade combat.”
You don’t. Terrifying isn’t it, not remembering her face. She was the most important person to you and yet you can’t remember her face. Do you remember even remember her touch?
“Are you even listening to me?”