Flames rise and fall from the earth, illuminating the dark figure sitting behind them.
He sits there silently behind the…
Dried blood and rips from bullet holes riddle his coat. He stares at me through a dark cracked visor and a heavily damaged mask. He fiddles a coin like piece of metal between his tattered leather glove. His other hand rests on the holster on his side. Each holster on each of his sides hold well kept revolvers. The parts of the guns protruding from the holsters gleamed from the rising flames.
We both sit, silently and still across the flames, waiting for something to happen.
“What do you want?” He remarks to me calmly.
“What?” I answer, trying to calculate what this question could mean.
“You saved me, practically brought me back from the dead, have been following me all day, and now sit there staring at me. you obviously want something from me. what do you want?”
I sit on a stump processing his question. What am I doing? I revert my vision to the night sky, then focus back on the drifter.
“I…. I’m trying to find my purpose. I awoke in a new world with nothing but random…”
“…memories of my past… of the past. And for some reason I feel like you know how to help me find my purpose.” The words spill out like oil from a broken machine.
We both sit in silence for a while. His hand slightly moves away from the his holster.
“That’s pretty deep for a machine, what…are you?” He says in a slightly curious tone.
I sit puzzled again, pondering this question. what am I? I look down at myself, at my mechanical limbs.
“I do not know” I remark heavily
“Well, you sound like us people, If you want to stick around much longer you gotta look like us people.” He says to me in a more sympathetic voice.
I tilt my head to the side in confusion.
“We gotta cover up those mechanical parts of your’s.”
My head straightens quickly.
“So you will help me?” I say excitedly
“you got a name?” He asks me after a moment, almost ignoring my question.
Do I have a name? Why haven’t I thought of these things yet?
“I am previously known as Model JX24801” I say, hoping that’s what my head was telling me.
“Well that’s not gonna fly.” He remarks with a sarcastic tone.
He relaxes a little bit in his position. And puts the coin like piece back into one of his pouches. He looks down for a minute then looks back up at me.
“How about Jax?”
Jax. Jax. I like it. My name… Jax.
<New title to initiate attention>
My name is Jax.