[center][color=yellow][h1]Devon C. Baines[/h1][/color]
[IMG]http://i63.tinypic.com/24dh6ap.jpg[/IMG]

Devon was up against a cold wall of Creature's room. He loomed over her, hands pressed on the surface just above her head. Devon had her eyes turned down, almost holding her breath. "You think you're the baddest bitch in town, dontcha?" He hissed. "You know you wouldn't have that fake confidence if it wasn't for me. I can see right through that hard exterior." Devon took in a deep breath through her nose, feeling chills run down her body at the sensation of his breath on her neck. She felt Creature's fingers slither under her chin, lifting it to look her glassy, green eyes. "Look at me, Devi." She twitched, slowly looking up and into his deep blues. Devon could feel herself being able to relax, taking a slower, deep breath. "You wouldn't make it out there." Creature spoke softly to her. "And for what? A bigger purpose? Get out of your head, dear, there's nothing left from the old world in this wasteland. You're purpose is here...with me. You're safe and never alone as long as you're here with me."
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[u][b]Fleetwood Subway Station[/b][/u]

Devon still couldn't get out of her head. She could hear Creature like he were whispering in her ear through the hazmat suit she wore. She could feel his long fingers grazing her face and jaw. Eventually, she could hear him growl and roar, "Fine! Go then! You're an independent girl, right? Fuckin' go! You don't need me!" Devon could remember being thrown out of the gangs hideout, begging Creature to stop. That she had changed her mind. That she was sorry. That was the day before Creature died, beaten and mangled by his own men. Men who didn't believe in their egotistical leader who paid more mind drinking and claiming untrue actions that were never made. Creature was a talker, not a doer. 

Since arriving to meet this Pariah, Devon paid little mind to the others around her. She observed their faces, but didn't listen to any of the conversations going on. They were just voices on top of voices, unless there was a direct command or whenever the group got the word to move out.
 
What the hell was Devon doing here, anyway? Why was she called here? She wasn't a marksman, or a medic, or had any special suit of armor or skills. During her days wandering the wasteland, after Creature's death, she felt more comfortable moving and killing without a trace of her existence being known. That was after giving groups and other wastelanders the benefit of the doubt. Well, here she was with another group that she was certain would either kill her, eat her, or see her useless. There was a spot deep in her that wanted to give people another try.

She came out of her spaced out zone, noticing the group almost coming to a stop and a voice in the radio. [color=purple]"The wall. The barrier that keeps everything in Necropolis."[/color] Her eyes traced one side, of the underground ceiling above, to the other. She grimaced a little at the sound, feeling a tingle that was between a tickle and an itch in her ears.

Devon could hear the voices in the communicator. Someone quoted, [color=orange]"Abandon all hope, ye who enter here."[/color] She held back a chuckle, halfly smiling. Hope. That was all Devon wanted. 
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