The Mansion of Crossroads

Rexan walked out of the armory smiling that he had his robes and lightsaber once again.

Lia was struck dumb at the prospect of anyone trying to cure the genophage. She wasn't really sure what to say about it, so she merely pushed those thoughts aside and continued her discussion with the girl. She was at a loss for what to say really, but her saving grace was the girl talking to the woman from before, the one that had killed the large yellow creature back in New York.

Leon settled himself into the over-stuffed couch sitting opposite the television in the room, apparently everyone else was too busy grabbing their weaponry and armor and magical robes to bother just sitting for a minute. But, for the moment, he found himself feeling oddly safe and secure, probably just the fact he'd watched these same people he was sharing a room with fight off a two-hundred foot tall Behemoth successfully.

He yawned as he ran his fingers through his shortened hair, it'd been too long since he'd been able to just relax.

~

Hurrst glanced over his shoulder,and he found his lips curl into an almost smile. The annoying as hell agent named Leon had fallen asleep on the couch. The CIA spook shrugged. Less work for him.

~

"Ma'am, we were in the process of terminating Subject: B132. I wasn't expecting a vist."

"Abort the process. Now."

"Ma'am?"

"Do it."

"Yes, ma'am. But may I ask why?"

"I've had a change of heart, all things considered he is too valuable to just waste. We study him, combat data is ooo-so hard to find these days. And it's especially hard to find such skillful test subjects."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Notify Hunter of expanded mission perameters. Prep the subject for transport immediately."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Just a warning, maybe?

No. I can't, Daryl. I'm sorry. You know that.

I thought you were my friend, but now I'll have to unfriend you on Facebook![/]

[i]But... that... Please don't. I love you, Daryl. Please don't.

I'm sorry, please don't cry. But... I need the help! I need it!
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"-an you just stop that? It hurts like hell, Jim. Pressure points, you know."

"I know," the rough agent said as he shoved Collins through the threshold and into the mansion. He shut the door quickly, and with a bang.

Collins looked around at the heavily furnished building. It was old; many of the items inside were antique, but still very quaint. He liked the place. It had a comfortable feel to it. Even the smell was unique. It brought back fond

memories of you, Mother. Memories of you." Collins said as the ghast twirled around him and through the hallways of his grandfather- her father-'s house. It was an old place, and he liked it. The smell, especially, was nice. The smell of pine- pine was what had been used as a primary building material, and the whole house smelled of it. His grandfather had built the house with his own two hands, as he boasted at every corner.

The banshee replied, "Really? What memories?"

A much younger and much less weathered Daryl answered by clutching his forehead.

"I... I don't know. I never met you, but I have these memories. A pretty girl, a weird room. I don't know what they mean. I see myself talking to you and, and..."

memories of times long ago. He drew out of his quiet trance, but sorrowfully. He liked the memories, though some did disturb him so. He rubbed the back of his neck as he remembered his purpose, and groaned.

"Ah, fuck."

He stomped throughout the house until, very soon after the beginning of his escapade, he found a television, with a certain familiar character facing it on an old, beaten couch. He slunk over and plopped down; he sunk into the couch cushions as if they were trying to consume him. As dangerously broken as the couch looked, it was actually quite soft. It's leather had been worn from years of use, and felt good to his tactile senses.

"So, Mr. Kennedy, what the fuck is this place?"

Either Collins failed to notice that Leon was asleep, or he was just ignoring the obvious and instead trying to create meaningful conversation. But alas, Leon was still half-asleep when the kid woke him up from his incredibely light slumber, zombie apocolypses having a tendence of causing that.

"Huh? Wazzit?"

~

Hurrst peeled the thin foil cover off the plastic cup of Jell-O, shoveling a mouthful of fruity goodness into his mouth before closing the fridgerator with his foot. He settled down in a comfy arm chair, and tossed his feet onto the coffee table, where they settled on a couple open magazines, a mixture of gun magazines and an even larger stack of gaming magazines and a few of those other books little girls get in the mail. The whole thing reminded Hurrst too much of home, his past life, his long list of failures as a father and a husband. It was almost sickening to a degree, and left an odd taste in his mouth. Or maybe the Jell-O was just past due.

~

"You just walk in there, and ask for Agent Malone, he'll know where your armor is, m'kay? We got R&D to piece it back together for you, and against my better judgement we're giving it back to you so you can run around and play hero some more, are we clear, Lieutenant?"

Six nodded, not because he lacked the voice to reply but because their was no need, he was more concerned about the fact they'd taken advantage of him, of his advanced equipment, no doubt for their own gain. But, like a good soldier, he eased himself out of the van and found his way down the looping path to the absurdly large mansion the government had laid out for them. He figured it best not to just let himself in out of the blue, so he politely knocked on the door.

"Alright, fine. But you better be triple fucking sure that whoever it is is a Master, or I swear to god..." James responded to Seeker, opening the door once more and stepping back out into the dwindling group, most of them heading for the Armory.

---

Andrew shrugged at the CIA Agent standing before him. He didn't know any of these people, and didn't really care for them. Nor did he know the surrounding streets, despite the Pip-Boy. He decided to just spend some time inside if he wasn't going to get someone to guide him. "Nah, it's okay. I'd rather not spend several hours stumbling around a city with a bunch of strangers." The LW stepped around the blonde agent, pulling open the Mansion door and holding it open for her. "Ladies first?"

---

"Blue-One, Red-One. We have eyes on the target, setting up OP, over."

"Understood, Red-One. We've set-up at OP Dorothy and have set up security counter-measures. Negative on a raised alarm. Keep it clean, recon only; out."

In the forest surrounded the mansion, four men clad in Photo-Camo stealth armor, and possessing four-lensed goggles slowly made their way through the brush. F2000s and MP5Ks saftied, completely unknown to any person in the building. Their voices were light and distorted, and faces were covered. Making any attempt to identify them a complete failure. They moved professionally and silently, not a single peep of a crakced twig or crushed leaf could be heard from them.

G22, was once again, gathering information.

The little girl stepped through the door, a slight skip in her happy step. She didn't motion for the people to follow; she had told them enough to get them to follow her. She really liked feeling like the Pied Pieper of Hamlet.

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The CIA agent stepped into the door, moments after the little girl left, as she stepped aside, letting the cop killer entrance into the house. She wasn't stupid enough to let him step into the house with him behind her.

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"I would never harm an innocent person. As I said, you would have to force me." Johanne stepped aside at the door, to her Master passage into the house proper.

Curious as to what the girl was up to, as well as intending to get some answers regarding an earlier statement of hers, Nova followed the girl before tapping her on the shoulder.

"What was it that you were saying before?" she asked, cocking her head slightly in almost child-like curiousity.

Malone watched Nova and the girl go outside and remembered he had to go into town and he might need a little help. He walked over to the door and spotted a rather large man who had knocked before those two went running out. He approached the man, "Follow me."

"Ummmmm Star Craft. With the Zerg....Zerg Rush. You're that ghost girl, Nova." The little girl continued on, the air still fairly warm outside. It would be a little while before things started to cool down anyway. Not that she minded; she loved the cold, and snow, and winter, and Christmas. And the fact that she got snow days didn't help the case for Summer.

"Good, at least I can trust you on that." James replied, as he checked over his MARPAT uniform, and MEU[SOC] on his hip. It appeared the group was about to head out for supplies. He'd better tag along, to make sure none of them could run off. Agent Hunter and Hurrst could hold down the fort, but they couldn't do shit of the people scattered. Hell, he could probably kill all three of the CIA Agents in a shootout, he'd seen how they fought. They couldn't hold up their own in a determined firefight.

---

Andrew raised an eyebrow at the agent infront of him, then remembered all those cops he'd killed in New York. He was probably labeled a terrorist now. He sighed, stepping in, then looked down at his Pip-Boy, scanning through it to 'Data' and then 'Notes'. He'd recorded Three-Dog's radio transmissions, and could possibly try to use it to give people an idea of what his life was like. And why he'd reacted to violence with violence... it'd become a part of natural survival for him.

Nova cocked an eyeborw as she sat on the balcony's railing and crossed her arms.

"I'm not aware that Dominion Ghost operations are public knowledge!" she replied, starting to get a sinking feeling in her gut (though she has no idea why or for what reason). "What are you trying to say?"

"Don't you get it silly!? Everyone and everything you hold dear in the world? It's gone in a second! You see, we created your fiction on this world. Your nothing but a fake, a fictional character, a being in a story, made from our imaginations. If someone had written it in our world, you could've defeated your enemies, or all your loved ones brought back! Of course, we don't do that, as it doesn't make a good story. ALSO, we never knew that you were really a "real" being. I dunno, I guess the universe broke, lost its course. It doesn't matter though. I guess you're here for a reason, and you're a hero. A hero will stay in the place their needed most, and I guess your worlds don't matter as much as this one? I dunno, I don't try to understand. Just embrace the chaos of the universe, because that's all there will ever be. Just take it, make it your own, and move on! Or somethin'." The little girl said these words with disturbing cheerfulness, sitting on the railing overlooking the house outside. After completing this foreboding, she jumped down, and moved towards the road; a large innocent smile on her face...

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"So, I guess your that guy in Falout 3?" The CIA agent crossed her arms, and sat down on the largest couch in the room, ignoring James and Johanne exiting one of the rooms. It wasn't like they had precautions for that.

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"Yes, I would suggest you take me with you. It would be suicide to leave without me in broad daylight during the war. A enemy Servant would certainly kill you." Seeker followed him towards the door, opening it for him, and standing to the side, to allow him to pass.

"Um..sure. I odn't have anything better to do"The Jedi replied.

Nova did not expect the hammerblow of a revelation to hit her. A wave of confusion passed over her - everything? Korhal? The Dominion? Her past? All of it - nothing but a sham? A fiction to be used by those powers that be for their own entertainment.

Shaking her head i disbelief, she vaulted over the railing and jogged after the girl, intending to question her further.

Andrew frowned as he heard the agent say something about him being from somewhere. He heard 'fallout', a term he was familiar with, with all the radiation floating around the air in the wasteland. The Lone Wanderer glanced up with a confused look on his face. "Excuse me?"

---
James nodded at Seeker, but grabbed the door instead. "You're still a lady, you go first." the Marine nodded for her to exit as he held the door.

Malachi was intrigued by Lia's culture, he couldn't fathom being confined to a suit all your life, as a child of the sea he hardly ever wore clothing at all, it was mostly to conceal himself and for proper decency. But he was enthralled the idea of a pilgrimage. "So its like a right of passage for your people?" he asked.

The Spartan knocked on the door twice, like a good little boy who'd been trained his entire life to kill and maim those opposite his cause, part of the training was meant to train him the art of blending in with the 'average joes' as the instructor had called them to aid in eliminating insurrectionists. Not every battle was won with brute force and high explosives, though that proved to be a very viable option when things went south.

~

Hurrst acknowledged the fact that Hunter and that Lone Wanderer ass-munch were bantering like two school children and neither had an intention of getting the door.

The agent sighed, tossed his Jell-O cup on the coffee table and went to the door.

~

The door openned a crack, "Who the hell are you?"

Now, this was an interesting question. And how to answer it? Noble Six had never really had a name, well, obviously he'd been named but it'd never been used like a normal child's name. His parents had surely loved him, and surely called him by his given name, but ever since he was seven he was just another number, a military designation, "I'm here to see a George Malone."

"Ya just missed 'em," the man began to close the door, but Six's arm stopped it's movement.

~

The pair of eyes glaring at Hurrst from the opposite side of the door caused Hurrst to scan the man for distinguishing features, "Okay, maybe ya didn't miss him. But...I'm gonna need a name before I let you talk to him, and a reason for your being here."

The man glanced away, was he mentally handicapped? He hadn't necessarily said much other than, 'I'm here for George', which wasn't much to run with. Hurrst hoped he wasn't being prejudiced against some poor retarded kid trying to sell George some cookies or some shit.

"Noble Six."

"Right, you. Heard a bit about you, fucking son won't talk to me. Too busy playing your fucking game, hard to recognize you without the power armor and shit. Too bad my kid isn't here, he'd blow a load all down the front of his pants meeting you in person," Hurrst openned the door, gesturing for the Spartan to enter, "Well, shit. He's going into town, forgot about that. Well, I suppose you can wait around while the dumb bastard goes to pick up tampons and eyeliner."

The little girl continued down the road, approaching the city below. She didn't bother to go to the car; they could have a nice walk in the lowering sun, and call up one of the people in the house to pick them up!

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"My Master. My country, my God, and my King never saw me as a woman, or even a peasant girl. They saw me as a warrior, a Knight, a Dame. My gender has absolutely no meaning here. I am your Servant Saber, not a Lady; I am but your weapon and sword against your enemies." Despite her rabble, Seeker stepped through the door, heading down to the town below. They'd probably arrive soon enough, given the time.

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"Fallout. There's Fallout, Fallout 2, Fallout 3 with the DC wastes, and Fallout: New Vegas. Take a guess where that takes place..." She leaned back in the couch, playing around with a quarter, looking at the ceiling above.

James frowned ever so slightly, then shrugged, following Seeker outside. "Heh, the first thing I noticed about you was that you were a lady. Female Marines are still ladies, and I treat them as such. To me you are no different, a warrior still has a gender." James responded, stepping outside into the beating sun. It was time to get a move on.

---
Andrew glanced at Hurrst as he walked past, the guy reminded him of Jericho. Well, Andrew and Jericho hadn't gotten along... there was one way to solve problems in the wasteland.

The shocked and confused look on the Lone Wanderer's face didn't disappear, apparently there was some sort of series about the wasteland, or something. He still didn't really know. "What are you talking about? There is documentation of the Capital Wasteland? Of me?"

"I am your sword. Nothing more. Nothing less. And I do not understand your modern speak. I do not understand what a Marine is. You speak of a human Marine. That means a Navy, or perchance something to do along those lines. Not a person." Saber continued down the steps, walking fast enough so that she coul catch up with the little girl soon enough.

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"Well, get a computer, and look it up. It's about a kid who goes off looking for his father. Though, you can make the Lone Wanderer male or female. It's sandbox, meaning you can ignore aving your father, and run around. Once you finish taking back DC with the giant Optimus Prime knockoff, the game ends, and either Sarah Lyons activates a purifier, or yourself. If you get the DLC, you can playthrough another campaign after, where you go after the US government remnants, or whatever they are. A new one came out after that one, though."

Andrew was quiet for a few moments, shaking his head until he finally looked up at Sarah. "That's all I am? All everything I experienced, all the pain I've felt, none of it was real...? Heh, tell that to the men I've killed. All those times I've been shot? Anchorage? D.C.? Point Lookout? That may be 'fiction' here, but I'll be damned if people say that what I went through isn't real."

---
James frowned at Seeker as he followed her out to the car, opening the door. "You don't know about the United States Marine Corps? The deadliest fighting force known to man? What time are you from?" He questioned, sitting down in the passenger seat.

"I am a heroic spirit, as I said before. Anytime in the past, any number of thousands and thousands of years ago. I could be from virtually any era in the past, any being. So long as stories were written of me. I should like to discuss the matters elsewhere with you, though you could update me on what has happened of late."

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"Well, no one knows for sure. Perhaps you were just from a different universe than this one. Or maybe, you became real a week ago. I'm not really sure." The CIA agent stopped looking at the ceiling, annoyed with the boredom this would present. Better than desk work, at the least.

Lia nodded, "Yes, that's it. We go on Pilgrimage to prove we are ready and can provide for the ourselves rather than burden the others." She looked back at the others, "Come on. Let's go get our equipment. I want to go make sure my omni-tool is intact."

Malachi nodded.
I guess i'll follow... got nothing better to do. He thought to himself. "Would you mind if i came along?" He asked her politely.