A Scripta

"I don't want them looking at me waiting for me to die any second."

Nate yawned and opened the bathroom door onto the "bar room". He heard the sound of lightly tinkling bells, which meant someone was coming through the teleporter.

It's six a.m. Who the hell..?

A woman's form materialized. She was very short with shoulder-length black hair, dressed in a simple shirt, jeans, and sneakers. A bow and a quiver of arrows was strapped to her back. She looked stunned for a minute, looked around, and swore, even more colorfully than he could.

He raised an eyebrow at her, as she stepped out of the infirmary section. "God damn mother fucking arrow build - he could have given me a fucking TA, but at least I don't have to keep drawing the fucking thing after I get the fucking snowstorm going! Fucking bow!" She started to try and break it over her thigh, but the bow only bent.

"Need help?"

She stopped, looked up at him, and her mouth dropped in shock. "Holy shit, you're cute."

He chuckled gently. "Some have said that saves me from certain death." He put his hand out. "Need help with that?"

She looked at the bow, still sitting across her thigh shere she was trying break it. She looked up at him, standing there with his hand out. She walked over and handed it to him.

He took both ends and brought them together against the curve. It snapped in half, sending shrapnel in all directions.

"Damn," she muttered and looked at her arm. A piece of shrapnel, about three inches long, stuck out of her bicep.

He took her arm gently. "It's a flesh wound." He pulled the piece out; she didn't even flinch. No blood flowed. He narrowed his eyes at her. "You don't bleed."

"Of course I don't bleed, this is a game." She took the pieces of the bow out of his hands. "When I get back up there I'll have a brand new bow and quiver of arrows. Every single time."

"Do you... do you feel?"

"Feel what?"

"Pain."

"No, my HP goes down."

"You don't feel the elements? Heat? Cold?"

"No. Can't smell anything either. I'm a pixel person, just like you."

"Oh..." He nodded knowingly, "Frosty talked about you."

"Probably said I should go to the asylum in Nerva."

"He didn't go that far. But he spoke highly of you. What's your name?"

"Fethshael. And you're Masonry Redux."

"Huh? No. Just Masonry. Or Mase."

She glanced above his head for a moment. "Whatever."

"Are you hungry? I have a couple of hours until I have to to work."

"Hungry? Well, I guess, but I can't go into the restaurants."

"Why not?" he laughed.

She crossed her arms. "You'll see."

He decided to take her to the Happy Duck in Talos. She showed up outside the restraunt in about ten minutes, since she was coming from Skyway.

He held the door open for her. She took two steps and banged against an invisible wall. "There it is, it says in white letters, 'You cannot enter.'"

Masonry looked around the door's front. "Where?"

"Forget it, they're gone now. I can only go into the stores and missions."

"Oh. Well let me get you something. What would you like?"

"Clam roll. With the bellies."

"Gotcha." He placed his order and was surprised when it came out - it wasn't even on the menu. He took his own chicken sandwich and met her outside. She sat forlornly at one of the many pools in the city.

He handed it to her and sat next to her. She took one of the clams out of the roll and popped it in her mouth. She looked down at the roll.

"What's wrong?" He had his chicken sandwich half done already.

"It doesn't taste like anything." She put it down next to her. "I don't feel, I don't smell, now I don't taste. God, this fucking sucks."

"Let me try one."

She handed him the plate and he took a bite. "Tastes fine to me."

"It's yours. Sorry Masonry."

"It's okay." He ate that too. "Wait, what did you say, you don't feel?"

She shook her head. "Nope." She put her hand in the water and swished it around. "Doesn't feel wet."

"So cold, you don't feel it?"

"I feel the effects, like slow effects. And holds. But I don't feel cold. I don't feel heat. My end and HP go down and I can see that but I don't feel it."

He crossed his arms across his chest. "Does Frosty know this?"

She shrugged. "He's a 40. I'm a 25. The sk would be horrible on his xp."

Masonry blinked. "I don't understand a word you just said."

She sighed. "No, you wouldn't. Your player's pretty good."

Raising an eyebrow, he said, "My 'player'?"

"Nevermind."

He growled, "I really hate that word."

She turned and focused on him, and Masonry saw that she looked scared.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it like that."

She swallowed. "Sure."

"Listen, let me make it up to you. Tool around with me for a little while, can you do that?"

She shrugged. "Not like I have any timed mishes."

He looked at her and thought, She doesn't feel...