Title: Dehumanization - Part 1
Author: Dani
Rating: G (Nothing bad yet!)
Disclaimer: Fallout 3 and the world it takes place in do not belong to me. The characters in this story, however, do.
Author's Note: First of hopefully many snippets detailing important events in the life of one of my characters. I hope to show the progression and regression in him that brings him to the place we find him in now. One of the problems with adapting an OC from an original story to a different canon universe is that you can run into repetition of names. I just wanted to make a point of saying that the boy in the story is one of my OCs and not the canon character he unfortunately shares his name with.
Dehumanization - Part 2---------------------------------------------------------------------------
The boy trudged solemnly down the worn dirt path towards the monster's shack. He could feel the eyes of his three older brothers fixed on his back, boring judgmental holes straight through him. It had become a game for them some years ago to see how close they could get to the derelict building by the beach without succumbing to fear. This was the first time they allowed him to come along. Tanner, the eldest, had claimed to make it all the way to the woodpile, almost ten steps from the front door. The boy thought he could do better.
He kept his hazel eyes on his feet as he trudged along, listening carefully for the boys behind him. They had gone silent, perhaps in fear of waking the beast inside and getting their brother killed, or perhaps because they'd run off long ago. He wanted to look back to make sure they were still there, huddled behind the skeletal trees and jutting boulders, but if they were they might take that as a sign of fear and mock him. He had to show them he was brave, even though he felt terror grip him more with every step.
Twenty steps.
He had heard a great number of horrific stories about the monster by the beach over the years. Avery once told him it stood 10ft tall and could spit radioactive slime. Liam said its skin was covered in barbs and if they pricked you, you would turn into a monster yourself. It was Tanner's stories that always scared him the most though. According to Tanner the creature was made of shadows and fear and if it ever laid eyes on you it would sneak into your bedroom while you slept and steal you away. Then it would take you back to it's dilapidated home where it would skin you alive and cook you in a stew. The boy eyed one of the darkened windows suspiciously but kept walking.
Fifteen steps.Older brothers had a habit of exaggerating though, and as young as he was the boy knew his brothers would say anything if they thought it would bring him nightmares or distress; they were those sorts of people. His feet were dragging now, kicking up dusty squalls with each step. As much as he wanted to believe the shack was empty, the woodpile and tracks around it showed differently. The boy wondered uneasily how much it would hurt to be skinned alive.
Ten steps.He stopped by the woodpile and glanced back. As he had expected, his brothers stood close together at the head of the path, half obscured by a leafless, long dead tree. They were speaking animatedly between each other, although their voices were far too low to hear, and were watching him expectantly. Idly he reached out and touched the twisted, nearly useless branches on the stack beside him, hoping the older boys would be awed by the gesture. He turned back to the building at the end of the path. He was so close now, probably too close but...
Nine steps.This time he could hear his brothers gasp and break into frantic discussion. If this didn't put him in their good books, nothing would. He trudged on wondering how far he would take it, how far he could take it, before he could bear no more.
Five steps.They were silent again, or had run off. Either way the boy felt entirely alone on the cliff side path. The weather-beaten door loomed before him, seeming to draw him in and repel him at the same time. It looked as though it had been painted red at one time, and he found himself wondering in horror what it had been painted with.
Two steps.
So close now... so ridiculously close.He stopped within arms reach of the door, staring up at its worn, dreadful visage. I should go back I have to go back before I go any further... The thought paralyzed him. How much further could he possibly go? As if answering his own question, his hand came up and before he fully realized what he was doing he rapped twice on the splintery wood.
Behind him his brothers wailed in unison, a strange mix of anguish, anger and horror. He took a few nervous steps back and turned to look the way he had came. To his surprise the other boys were tearing down the path towards him. Apparently despite the taunts and abuse they would still come running to his rescue. They had almost reached him when a rusty creak stopped them in their tracks. Again they screamed but this time it was purely in horror. The boy watched fear dance through his brother's eyes as they stared past him and without hesitation they turned and barreled back up the path and away from the boy and his fate.
Despite the overwhelming fear and anticipation he felt a twang of disappointment work its way through. For a moment he thought he was worth saving. So much for that.
The looming presence behind him was silent and still. Apparently waiting, much like he was, for what would happen next. With a deep, shuddering breath he turned and looked upon the monster.
It was in that moment the boy discovered the drawback of a child's imagination. The figure in the doorway was human, or at least human shaped. He was tall, but not nearly 10ft. Really the only scary thing about the man was his skin, or lack thereof. Most of it had peeled off, and what hadn't looked like it was in the process. Almost all of his hair was gone, except for a few gray tufts near his ears. The man was leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed and an unimpressed expression on what was left of his face, "May I help you?"
The boy stared dumbly at the monster he and his brothers had so feared.
He's wearing a sweater vest for crying out loud! Slowly his mouth began to form words, but his voice didn't seem at all interested in cooperating. The man took a step forward and the boy jerked back, a fearful yelp escaping his lips as he did so. Slowly the man dropped to one knee and the boy saw his annoyance replaced with a tired sadness. Strangely he found this reassuring.
"I'm not going to hurt you, son." He offered a rotting hand, seeming to reconsider it after the fact but leaving it out nevertheless, "My name is Harrison, Professor Gerald Harrison."
Hesitantly the boy took the man's hand, discretely checking first for barbs. He spoke levelly, something he didn't realize he was capable of in his current state, "'m afraid I only have one name, Sir... but it's Quinn, for all 's worth."
The man smiled, a lopsided gesture that revealed far too many of his teeth, shook the boy's hand brusquely and stood, "It's a pleasure to meet you Quinn. It feels like eons since I last had a visitor. Would you like to come in for some tea?"
Again the boy cast a fleeting glance town the path behind him, there was no trace left of his brothers aside from the hectic tracks left in their wake. They may have gone to get his father but he doubted it. They had all been warned to stay away from the beach in general, not to mention the shack overlooking it. They would be in as much trouble as he was, if not more because they were older and should know better. And judging by the way they ran off, I doubt saving me is the first thing on their mind. The boy turned to face the man again and shrugged, "Okay."
As he slipped past the man into the shadowy room, the door slid shut with a devilish shriek and he spoke again in an oddly conversational tone, "So... what's tea?"
