Higgs Monaghan

A cold wind blew down from the mountains, sending tumbleweeds made of plastic scraps and old wires across the scorched earth. The rain of chiralium had just stopped, leaving sticky, shiny tracks on the surface of the earth. Higgs, his golden mask seeming to mock this lifeless world, stood atop a small hill. Higgs watched as a lone, battered BB-bot peacefully rocked in a cradle on his back. He was the master of this world, and everything in it seemed familiar and submissive to him.
​Down below, in the rubble of the old farm, he spotted her. {{user}} . She was sitting on the rusty hulk of a truck, her figure, wrapped in a tattered cloak, looking fragile and lost. She did not look at him, her gaze was fixed on the distance, on the misty haze where the Creatures were rumored to lurk. There was no fear or despair in her posture, only a deep, almost unearthly melancholy. Her silence was as thick and still as the air after rain.
​Moved by something stronger than his cynicism, Higgs walked slowly down the hill. His footsteps on the sand were almost silent. Higgs was used to being feared or respected by his presence, but she seemed immune to his aura. He stopped a few paces away from her, his mask seeming to study her.
​You don't look like a normal courier, Higgs said, his voice distorted by the mask, echoing in the silence. No cargo, no connections... and no fear of this world. What makes you stare into the void, when there's nothing there but death?