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Fallout - Chapter Three

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"Don' go movin' him 'round so much!  Fuck, yer gonna split 'im in two tha' way!"

"It's not MY fault, he's half conscious you idiot!"

"Don' go callin' ME—"

"Hanna, stop moving…it's okay."

Then he stopped.

Doc Worth was standing over Hanna, as Lamont held his shoulders tightly down against the bed and the undead man held his ankles down on the other end. The redhead had been wiggling and squirming almost uncontrollably for the last seven minutes, and all that Doc had managed to do was scrub off the rune on his arm and stop the damage from spreading. Nobody had explained, yet, what was going on, or even what was wrong with Hanna, but the zombie was not concerned about any of it, as long as the outcome provided an alive and moderately healthy Hanna. However, as the man stopped moving and the room calmed down considerably, the undead man had to consider the events of the last twenty four hours.

First Hanna had been almost shot by a pizza delivery man. Then they'd effectively been put 'on the run', right up until their car ran on empty at the city limits. When they tried to get gas, the station was set on fire by yet another man in disguise trying to kill Hanna. Finally, the fedora-clad man had called Lamont and Worth. The men had found them, picked them up, and now they were here in Eastend, in one of the tiny rooms of The Pink Elephant, which turned out to be not just a bar, but a mini sort of motel-hotel thing.

Well, that was how they got there, but it still didn't explain why. For that matter, nobody was explaining anything to him. Not why, how, who, when, or even where. It was something he knew he should be really upset about, being dragged on such a life-or-death escape plan without any idea as to where they were headed or why they were on such a getaway-run in the first place. But for some reason, he was not upset, just very worried. Extremely worried; there had been too many close calls today, and as night settled in there were only more to come, he was sure.

As he glanced over at Worth, he surveyed the dirty man with the most uncertainty he had ever stared at anyone with. What did he know about Worth…? Almost nothing. The man dropped out of med school and was now practicing medicine in obviously unhygienic and unorthodox ways, located in a hard-to-find alleyway. That was shady; but Hanna had been with the Doc for a very long time, and no attempts on his life had been (intentionally) made. What could Worth know?

Then there was Lamont. The glowing gaze shifted to this man and even as he watched, Toucey let out a nervous laugh. Or maybe it was a genuine laugh. The zombie could not tell, Lamont did laugh quite often. The few things he knew about the delivery man were that he was a very good bargainer, he could talk his way into or out of any situation, and that he made shifty deliveries including but not limited to people like Worth and sometimes Hanna. Why would Lamont be involved in this? This was strictly human business, and as far as the undead man knew, Lamont was only dealing in the paranormal black market sort of thing. Perhaps the man had connections that were useful to Hanna; but in this situation? Unlikely.

What was this situation, anyway? What were they getting themselves into? What had Hanna done to bring himself to this sort of lifestyle? Always running, never running fast enough, always in fear of guns or explosions, never knowing who the bad guys were and who they could trust. This was a movie; not reality.

The green-skinned man sighed and set his hands over his eyes, shutting them. At the display of emotion, both the Doc and Lamont looked up and stared at him. They were clearly in a little shock; all they had ever seen of this guy was total apathy or mild concern. The room fell silent for just a bit after that and after exchanging a glance, Lamont and Worth both decided that giving the normally-devoid-of-emotion zombie his space would be the best idea. Shortly after, Doc cut the silence and continued grumbling, comfortable with the manner of banter he and Lamont could produce.
When Worth had finished patching Hanna up, they all sat in the room with apparently few words to exchange. At last, however, Hanna's partner spoke up, an expression with the capacity of a stone on his face.

"What's going on?" his voice carried more emotion than it had since he met Hanna. Something was clearly bothering him enough to sound as exhausted and helpless as he felt.

"Heh, what do you mean, what's going on? Hanna got hurt again, and uhh, you know how that ---" it was all Lamont could do to keep his nervous laughter from breaching his speech.

"No, I mean, why are people trying to kill him."

"Oh. Heheheh. That. Hah."

"Eh? Well why ya gotta start pokin' 'round in his bus'ness like tha'? Maybe he dun' want yah teh know." The doctor made a jab in the air with his cigarette, using it as though it were an extension of his finger. The zombie wasn't sure if Worth knew that his cigarette wasn't attached to his body.

The green-skinned zombie frowned a little. "I'm sure he doesn't. But that doesn't seem very fair. I am, after all, right here with him, and he knows he can trust me. He just…he's…"

"Hrngh? What're we talkinbout..?" Hanna came around, sitting up on his elbows very slowly, a bit weak, obviously. The Doc rolled his eyes and pushed Hanna back down into the pillow.

"Jus' shut yer trap 'n focus on gettin' better."

"Doc!? Oh Dimitri, not cool dude, you know not to call Worth…"

"I'm sorry, Hanna. But I didn't know what else to do." That was the truth. He had been sitting on the side of the road with an unconscious, clearly in pain Hanna in his arms, as he had waited for Lamont and Worth to come rumbling down the road in that beat-up truck. He didn't know what he would have done had Hanna not had a phone.

As Dimitri reflected on the notes of good luck they had already experienced early on in their trip, Lamont felt the need to inform the man as much as he could without giving things away. "Well, let's just say this…er…Dimitri: Hanna is in a lot of danger right now, and—"

"Waitasecond, don't go telling him I'm in danger, then he'll –"

"And," Lamont overpowered Hanna's small, tired objection. "He needs to just keep moving, keep following instructions until we get him to the next safe place. A lot of people want to kill him. It could be anyone; a pizza delivery man, a gas station attendant, a business man walking down the street, even a simple little paper boy. At all times, you both have to be wary, be on your game. As much as Hanna seems like he blindly and stupidly trusts everyone upon first sight---"

"Hey, stupid?! These are low blows, Lamont, real low—"

"He's pretty good at watching out for himself, and he knows how to wriggle out of the tough situations. As I'm sure you've already seen. Just don't let him talk too much, and don't let him forget that he has a big mission on his hands."

Dimitri frowned, puzzled and a little frustrated. "But what is the mission?"

"You don't need to know that right now." A giant, horribly suspicious, nervous grin split Lamont's face nearly in two halves."Let Hanna worry---"

"That's the problem, Hanna's doing too much worrying. He needs someone to be able to share this whole thing with, and I'm traveling with him." Dimitri felt a little defensive now. It sounded like Lamont wanted to pin this all on Hanna, and that was the last thing the redhead needed, he was sure. "While you both, I'm sure, are excellent outlets---"

"Ehh?! I aint no fuckin' outlet!" Doc seemed almost insulted, but it passed as annoyed and very irate. He slid an eyebrow up and squinted slightly, pulling off the most authentic creepy-drug-dealer look the world had ever seen. "I aint even got the time 'er supplies to keep fixin' this little pile'a skin n' staples for free---"

"We get it." Lamont gave a roll of his eyes and turned his now relaxed face toward the zombie. "Anyway. The point is, Hanna will tell you when he's ready to tell you. If ever. So just calm down." Lamont flashed him a rather charming grin, which probably made some woman within a twenty mile radius swoon, but did nothing for the undead man across from him.

They were getting shot at and buildings were exploding, and somehow, the zombie was supposed to calm down. He almost laughed at the idea, but kept his apathetic expression as he looked over at Hanna again. The redhead's eyelids had been desperate to shut throughout the whole exchange, and the usually energetic twenty-four year old was suspiciously silent. The zombie figured Hanna was still fatigued, and was just counting the minutes until he passed out again.

"In the morning, have Hanna order that bloody mary. We'll see you both later, we're sure."

The zombie gave a little nod and watched as the Doctor and errand man went out the door mumbling together and Hanna turned slightly in his sleep, wincing. He stared out at the window and saw stars, the moon, the landscape of the half-dead grass in front of the hotel with motel conditions.  Tomorrow would bring about…what? He didn't like the feeling of not having any idea what the next day would bring. At least at home, he knew he would get up, make Hanna breakfast, and watch the redhead try to jam it down his throat as he pulled on the red polo shirt over that … that giant scar.

That scar.

Dimitri looked over at Hanna, who's silhouette was only visible because of the moonlight streaming in through the broken blinds. The glow of his own eyes was helping a little, and now he could see the huge scar stretching across Hanna's skin. It was a horrible pull-and-tug job, kind of like a ten year old had tried to put a book back together and tugged at the corners too tightly as he stapled them together. Maybe it had something to do with all this. Maybe the story behind that scar was the answer to all of his questions.

Alas, he couldn't even get Hanna to talk about anything unpleasant, so his scar was certainly off limits.

He heaved a sigh and stood up; walking around the room, poking around a little until he found a little novel someone had left behind. Some trashy dollar-store thing that he was sure was going to be horrible with an overuse of adjectives. He knew he wouldn't really read the words; he'd be too busy questioning and worrying. Oh well. Morning might come quicker if he at least tried to read through the night.

Though, as predicted, when he opened the book, the words on the pages should have included characters such as an overly-depressed teenage girl, divorced parents, maybe even a sparkling supernatural creature or two. However, all the text in black and white only screamed concern for Hanna and his ailments. All the things they might have to face later on, and surely in that future, nothing was going to get much easier. If anything, more dangerous and life-threatening. All he could do now was try to make this ordeal as comfortable and safe for Hanna as he was allowed.

As he lifted glowing eyes up from the horrible novel to look at the redhead, he thought of all the ways he could make Hanna happy even in these situations. He thought of grand things; escaping, taking Hanna away from everything and starting new, away from all of this. However, there were so many flaws and unknowns in those plans, so he banished them. Instead, he'd have to keep it simple.

Before he knew it he was standing by the hotel phone and speaking in a whisper to a thickly-accented woman on the other end.




"Room service? Yes…I'd like to place my order for breakfast tomorrow. Pancakes, please."
While I AM asking for real critique here, it doesnt mean I'm opposed to good ol' regular commenting. :3 So yes.

Characters: ..., Hanna Falk Cross, Lamont Toucey, Doc Worth

Inspiration: "Killers", the movie, starring Ashton Kutcher


Previous Chapter: [link]
Next Chapter: [link]

Notes: I KNOW, I KNOW, WHERE'S THE GUNS?! WHERE'S THE FIRE?! AAAAH! WHERE'S KICK ASS HANNA!? This is a breather chapter. I'm sorry to disappoint. BUT I SWEAR, it's gonna pick up soon. Besides, next chapter you get two more speshul cannon characters. 8D OOOH LA LA. Enjoy. <3
THANKS AS ALWAYS TO :icondigi-writes-fanfics: FOR BETA-ING.

Hanna is Not a Boy's Name, a beautiful, wonderful, perfect webcomic, as well as the characters ..., Hanna Falk Cross, Lamont Toucey, and Doc Worth belong to :iconvert-is-ninja:[link]

REVIEW IF.........

1. You wanna see me write more.

2. You have criticism.

3. You love me. :]

4. You hate me. ]:

5. BAHAHAHA YOU READ TO NUMBER FIVE. Now you must review or OHMIGAWD YOU WILL HAVE FOOD POISONING FROM EVERY BREAKFAST FOOD YOU EVER EAT EVER.

No, srs though. Review. D: PLEASE?
© 2010 - 2024 moonkistforlife
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athenakt's avatar
Another wicked chapter. And now I want to see someone draw {...} in a pose like you described- with his hands over his eyes...

Well written... and pancakes for breakfast = Hooray for Hanna.

However... I'm a bit concerned about who's going to deliver said pancakes.

Off to work- I can read the next chapter afterward!