The jet-black night had enshrouded the whole desert. A lone scorpion lay motionless in the darkness, waiting for the right moment. As it slowly crawled towards the unaware traveler, it lifted its three-foot long tail armed with a huge stinger ready to strike.
As soon as the scorpion lunged, tail first, the traveler suddenly twisted to his side and fired errant bolts of microwave beams with his laser pistol. The first few hits melted the scorpion's horned carapace, with the last remaining shots burning through its soft interior. The air was soon rank with burned flesh and scorpion venom. The traveler muttered some curse in his native tongue, and continued down the lonesome road, putting his pistol back into its holster.
He checked the worn-out messenger bag at his side to see if his package was damaged. He knelt to the ground for a bit, and pulled out a rectangular black suitcase. After inputting the complex combination, the top part swung open and he traveler saw a strange sort of computer terminal with a red button covered by a locked glass canopy with the words "Better Living Industries Nuclear Science Division" written in bold on the covering. The employer gave him the key, but was extremely adamant that the Courier should not use it unless his client was killed. The terminal was offline, as his employer did not tell him how to operate it. All he said was to get it to Battery City no matter the cost. The job of a Courier was not an easy one, as outlaws and God knows what creatures lurked in the radioactive wastelands.
After looking for some dry twigs, he set up a campfire a few miles west of Battery City's main gate. He was walking for almost half the day now, so he decided to get a quick rest before making his final journey into the city gates. Aside from the black suitcase, he had kept his radio and a canister filled with dried cattle meat. The radioactive winter in December had made his job even harder as the days became shorter and the freezing nights more excruciating.
Tearing a reasonable piece from the large hunk of dried meat, he sunk his teeth into the food, relived from hunger he had been feeling since he got up. Rations were running low, and water wasn't as abundant as it used to be. Flipping the On switch on his radio, he turned to 1321 AM, one of the only running radio station in the California wastelands.
The speaker, Dr. Death, was one of the Courier's favorite radio-people, and frequently gave his listeners advice for travelers and an update on Better Living Industries' Draculoid patrols. It was odd that the station was not shut down already, for Dr. Death clearly showed venomous resentment from BL/Co. and was in communication with many splinter groups, with the most famous being the Killjoys, a group of hard-as-nails outlaws that battled with the Draculoids and liberated many small towns from their oppression.
"Hey there, listeners. It's Dr. Death-Defying here with your weekly help on how to survive the harsh California wastes. Try to keep away from ditches and water springs as they are swarming with scorpions and other nasties that surely will kick your asses any time of the day. Also, it seems the Draculoids are clumping into groups of fifty and assaulting other towns, including Blightville, which is just a few miles away from Battery City. It seems that BL/Co. is pressuring the rebels even more than usual. Must be some weird shit going on in their headquarters. The Killjoys are still somewhere in Nevada looking for Pollux, one of the last aviators in the wastelands. Things really are heating up here in California, listeners. But when the fight comes to you, remember to do it now and do it loud! Dr. Death out."
The Courier awoke to the sounds of police sirens and the whirring sound of a hover-bike's engine. He quickly stood up, fully prepared to die, with his pistol in hand. Seven Draculoids jumped out of the hover-bikes, and growled and hissed venomously at the Courier. They pulled out their standard issue laser pistols, which were dark gray and had special targeting systems that the Courier had not seen before.
The Draculoids immediately opened fire, purple beams of energy shooting out of the barrel of their guns. The Courier pulled out a black canister which opened up into a shield which blocked most of the fire. Almost all Couriers carried an emergency blast shield, but he knew it would not last long against concentrated laser fire.
With the shield blocking most of the incoming fire, he managed to get behind a sizable boulder just a few meters away from the campsite. He could feel some of his hair was singed from the energy fire, and a sudden surge of adrenalin engulfed his mind.
"Give us the package!" one of the Draculoids hissed from the distance.
So that's it, the Courier thought to himself. They were after the package. He knew that his employer was not really supportive of BL/Co., but he did not suspect that he would try and get away with something illegal against BL/Co. The Courier moved out of the safety of his barricade with lightning fast speed and shot down one of the Draculoids, who roared in pain as the laser beam melted through his chest. His blast shield had already powered down, now of no use to him, except as a distraction.
Draculoids were deadly with their weapons, but lacked the same kind of wit that many humans could use to outsmart them. The Courier tied up a piece of cloth from his sleeve to the black canister and nudged it slightly into the Draculoids' field of vision, who continuously opened fire on the dud until it was a molten soup of metal.
The Courier moved once again out of his barricade, and shot down two of the unaware with quick shots to their grotesque faces. But alas, one of the Draculoids in the back was not convinced with the Courier's distraction and fired an errant bolt of energy from his gun at the Courier, piercing his right thigh, causing his to collapse in a seizure of pain. The Courier could feel his head go light as pain was all he could hear in that period of time.
Somewhat amused by the Courier's failure, the Draculoids laughed lightly as they pointed their pistols at the injured Courier. The Courier knew that he could not escape the Draculoids, even if his leg was not damaged, for their hover-bikes would soon overtake him. He limped back to the safety of the boulder, ignoring the ringing pain in his ears caused from the Draculoids taking potshots at his torso. With one of the shots going right through his stomach, he knew that this was the end. He pulled out the black suitcase from his rucksack, and quickly jotted down the combination, with the case clicking open. He pulled out the key from his left pocket, and inserted it into the keyhole, turning it clockwise thus opening the glass canopy that covered the red button.
"Alright!" the Courier shouted to the Draculoids. "I'll give you your damn package!"
He could hear the Draculoids snickering in amusement as they slowly advanced towards him. Pushing the red button, the Courier read the words "Nuclear Device Armed. Press red button again to detonate" he laughed to himself, feeling the numbing pain creep into his head.
Screaming at the top of his lungs, he said his final words to the hideous Draculoids.
"Here's your shitty case you motherfuckers!" he shouted, pressing the red button and throwing the suitcase directly at the Draculoids, unaware of their imminent doom. During the Couriers final moments, he heard a shrill alarm, followed by a deafening blast that incinerated his body. in a five-mile radius, a huge nuclear explosion detonated in the middle of the California wasteland, catching the attention of the Killjoys, sitting on a huge heap of ruined cars.
"What a way to end the day." Jet Star muttered under his breath.