Futuristic, post apocalyptic female warrior types battling robots and falling in love. Pretty much.
"Clockwork. Quit daydreaming and build."
They gave her that name because she couldn't remember her own; most of them couldn't, the ones who had been in the camps, had their brain raped again and again by the machines. Clockwork can't remember anything about the life she had before Marny rescued her. She can't remember a mother or a father, if she lived in a nice home or if she lived on the street, begging for food. This is the only life she knows now, wires and gun powder, rigging up explosives like she was born to do it, to keep her and her sister's safe. Its the only life anyone has anymore.
The door slams shut and Clockwork's fingers jerk a little, but not much. After the camps, there isn't a whole lot that can rattle her anymore. She turns her head to see who it is.
She sees Sally and Pepper walk in, guns slung over their shoulders. Clockwork has known them ever since Marny brought her to the sanctuary six months ago. Sally has a deep cut across her right cheek with streaks of dried, crust-like blood that's run down to her chin and Pepper doesn't look any better, a slash across her belly cutting straight through her shirt. Clockwork notices the dark, brownish stain on the fabric and wonders how badly she's injured.
"Where's Bullit?" Marny asks, cautiously setting down the gun she was cleaning. Clockwork feels the small hairs on her arms stand up. Sally drops her head and stares at her feet.
"Where's Bullit, Sally?"
Pepper takes half a step, a small gesture, but it puts her body between the two of them, protective of her sister. Clockwork has known for a while that Sally is more than Pepper's sister. "She went off on her own, Marny. We tried to stop her. You know how she was."
Was. Sometimes Clockwork really hates past tense.