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Who's yer Daddy? Part 3 - Radioactive

Canni Belle's picture
Submission type:


((This one is dedicated to Reaper.

This stories inspiration song is the one he would always play for Canni Belle and the vid felt like part of her story, so here it is.

Words are not enough to thank you for the place my creativity calls home.)) 


Continued from part 2...


"I found you!"

Canni cried out, reaching for her small friend inside the same closet as the screaming lady, clinging to each other for a few moments. The girl barely noticed the woman till she went silent, eyes too wide and mouth too open as she tried to meld with the wall behind her. 

This got her attention and gripped the axe tighter in her hands as she turned pale blue-grey eyes towards the hysterical woman. 

"He shouldn't have stolen my friend 'way from me.. he gots what he deserved.

Glenda felt a clammy cold as she remembered slipping in all the blood, Matts blood. She whispered, holding her breath for more then one reason ..

"What did you do?" 

The girls voice settled into the sweetest singsong tones of a child actor, doing exactly what was expected. 

"Did what my Daddy taught me" 

The woman didn't want to ask, but the corn-filled words came out before she could stop them..

"Who's your Daddy?"

The air was thick with fear and fouler things inside the cramped closet, Canni felt her friend just behind her, it was easier to think now, the world didn't seem to glow red like blood. They were together now, she would not lose another friend, not the last one. Even the thought of it made the red start to come back behind her eyes, the axe began to rise. 

A soft furry touch to her arm made the raging fear dissipate like a puddle in the desert, taking a deep breath her voice came out sounding more human, less haunted. Drawing the small companion close with an unmistakeably loving and protective gesture, it  clashed, like plaid and poka-dots with her reply

"The Boogyman."

Glenda's stomach clenched as if being punched, she knew of the Legend, heard the stories...and down to her very terrified soul... she believed it. 


-Months later, near Watchtower-


"Can we go get waffles now? I want to try some,  you promised." 

The pitter patter, and chitter chatter behind her never missed a breath or a beat, especially breath because her lil buddy was a chatty catty. and the girl said as much. 

"Then you talk for a change, there's a whole bunch o' stuff you need to talk about.. like how you got away from The Pit and...."

Her throat closed a bit and felt prickly, voice sharp and angry

"Drop it."

"Make me" 

A high powered gunshot blast from her SIR blew such a big hole in their path that the pair of short legs had to go around instead of stepping over.

"Fine  but the Redstones left, Watchtower is safe and I'm sick of meat, we need waffles"

She sighed and chose the much less agonizing option of Waffles. 

"Can't promise I can get em, there aint always a bag out by the back door."

"You can go ask H..."

The sentence was cut off due to the distraction of the perfect view of inside a shotgun barrel.

"Why Not?" Someone was more then a little overconfident and slightly smug about it.

"Cuz I gotta keep ya safe" Sullenly.

"We are safe." Came right back to her


Canni could not believe her friend said that, not after that all but one pink shard of her world had shattered, there was no such thing as safe, all she could do was shake her head miserably. This time she was the one reached for and the fear of loss abated and she listened to the voice that sounded like a combination of many people she had known through the years, all of them actually. 

So many years, and here she was still a child while time moved on without her. 

Like Peter Pan, but with a shotty. 


"No it isn't like that and you know it, Peter Pan never had to grow up and learn things about livin and staying that way. Tick tock Canni, tick tock, the kid isn't really a kid anymore." 


Having had enough, the waif wrapped her little buddy tightly in a blanket and flung the parcel over her shoulder despite the muffled protests. 

She was changing, had to or crumble into ruin like the rapidly decaying pile of rubble that covered her radioactive life.


Some things are just too toxic to ever really dispose of... so all you can do is bury them deep and wait for it to all leak out and contaminate everything.

Or find a way to adapt.


The Watchtower guard listened to music during the late hours of his watch, somewhat watchful of the kid on a yellow motorbike who stopped to carefully pack a small pink stuffed animal with hearts on it into a bag, checking its security twice before going south on the main road towards the lower plateau, for some reason it made him smile and again he became lost in the tunes and sang along.

I'm waking up, to ash and dust,

I wipe my brow and sweat my rust.

I'm breathing in the chemicals.


I'm break in, shaping up

Checking out on the prison bus

This is it, the Apocalypse



I'm waking up, I feel it in my bones

Enough to make my systems blow.

Welcome to the new age, to the new age

Welcome to the new age, to the new age.


Whoa,whoa... I'm radioactive, radioactive

Whoa, whoa ...I'm radioactive, radioactive. 


I raise my flags, dye my clothes

It's a revolution, I suppose

We're painted red to fit right in .. whoa.














Joe Spivey's picture

Don't ever change Canni :)

A line from the story prodded my imagination: "Some things are just too toxic to ever really dispose of... so all you can do is bury them deep and wait for it to all leak out and contaminate everything." So, it is seven hundred years in the future. The ground cracks, then breaks and something that used to be Canni Belle pulls herself up out of the ground.

Opiates and coffee first thing in the morning, gets the synapses doing odd things.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

Hyle Troy's picture

** Hyle Instructs Theis to always place a bag of waffels by the back door (if he smells 'that smell'). If she can't directly care for the kid atleast she can make sure she does'nt go hungry.

I would rather die peacefully in my sleep, like Grandad, than screaming, like his passengers

Synn's picture

"Who's yo Daddy!"  *snicker*  Somehow sounds diffrent when I say it.  (Nice read, and interesting development.

Canni Belle's picture

* Before getting even a half mile away from Watchtower, she remembers tomorrow is Saturday and turns the bike around, heading towards Northfield as the pink peanut gallery in back clamors loudly for waffles*


((Oh Joe, such a deliciously horrific thought. Feel free to expand on that if you've a mind to since that time frame is totally not my area.

((Naughty Syn, as per usual))

One minute your calm, the next your shooting someone in the face, then your doing your chickendance. If that is not chaos I dont know what is - Aiid

Joe Spivey's picture

((Thank you. I shall keep the idea tucked away in the subconscious and see what sticks to it in those precious creative minutes just before sleep hits.

Stick with me kid and you'll be farting through silk.

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