Chapter 1
Entry 1
Well, I heard that two-hundred years ago on this day, was the day of what was known as "The Invasion". A band of ravaged, mutant creatures invaded our small town of Darin. Leading them was a silvery white wolf, but who knows what her name was.
The ones who knew were either enslaved or dead. Or turned into mutants. Either way, talking with anyone from the "Modern Age" was forbidden, and deemed punishable by death. And not a very peaceful death. I've heard that when anyone was found talking to someone from the "Modern Age" they're usually poisoned. It turns their body against them. Their white blood cells attack major organs, bones, even the red blood cells, putting the victim in an unbearable pain. Finally, when the white blood cells do no more, their body is turned inside out, and fed to the dogs. Gruesome savages, but that's how everyone is these days.
This journal was started by me, Claire, descendant of Wolfgang, to inform the remnants of the Resistance, or whoever finds this, about my journey to stop the Mutants and their leader. It may be years after I'm dead that this is read, or maybe never. Whatever the case may be, this is the only thing that will keep me sane. Welcome to my journey against the Mutants, who are in truth called "The Wild World Mutants," or "WWM."Claire, descendant of Wolfgang
Entry 2
About the lack of entries for some days, well. . . I was almost found. Ah, the dangers of writing in an accursed journal. But if it's to help inform, or to entertain, I must. And to keep myself sane. I'm sane. Yes.
About what happened. I had just finished writing the first entry when I heard a familiar voice. Sounded like Bob, that purple, cross-dressing cat. I asked him once why he wore a flowered outfit, and he said that it was easier to move around in. The poor thing was now a mutant, but his voice hadn't changed. It was common practice to name your kin after someone you knew. Bob was a popular cat, so it was heart-breaking to us when he was found and captured.
Now he's our enemy.
Anyway, he was getting close to me. I silently shut the journal, and using my keen ears, Bob's location was known to me. He was a bit too close to my comfort, at about twenty feet away. The wasteland of this world had many hiding places, from ditches to hills, dips and valleys. Quickly but silently, I headed away from the mutant, hiding behind a hill. It was hard to see where he was without giving my position away, but it was worth a shot.
My ruby eyes carefully scanned the desolate landscape, noticing the barren rocks, the green steam that came from noxious pools of water, and multiple craters. But what stood out against all this was the futuristic looking building far off into the distance. All I could see from my position was the tall, thin tower that served as an elevator. The bottom was thick, but thinned out as you got closer to the top. Near the top was an oval glass that encased a platform; this was the Queen's Tower, the tallest structure now.
Going past that, you would reach the very top. It was almost too small to stand on, but that was a great place to execute prisoners. The prisoners that were taken to the top were pushed immediately out the elevator, where they would slip down the slick tower, slide on the dome, and they would either collide into a rock pillar, fall into a pool of acid, or break their spine on the rough, hard ground below, 666 feet below. Fitting that they made the tower the height 666, the Demon's number, as it was known.
How do I know this? Sometimes, those pools of acid turned into pools of radioactive liquid, but you couldn't tell until you landed in one. That's what gave me my keen senses, my ruby eyes, my. . . wings. They were more like bat wings, truthfully.
Not pretty to look at, but they give me quick flight. Only three others were gifted, or as I like to call it, cursed, gift. Some of us had amazing speed, some could breath underwater, and more.
And then, I saw him. Bob. That poor, innocent, purple cat. His bother was large, muscular, and twisted. Shreds of cloth covered his thick frame. Sharp, jagged yellow claws tipped his once-innocent paws that used to never let go of his lucky fishing rod. One eye was a blood red color, the other a soft green, as if his eyes were used in experiments. That thin tail of his was long, with a bend in the middle, and ended in a sharp point. Though his faced resembled a crocodile's, I could still barely see that poor, innocent face he had, twisted in fear as he was taken away.
None of us could stop them; we were outnumbered, with them having maybe thousands, against our twenty-six. All we could do was hide. My heart twisted in pain from not being able to help him. Now it was too late to help him.
I watched Bob as he stumbled around, sniffing the ground, trying to find me. I knew he was looking for me, no doubt about that. My hands traced the jagged floor, until my fingers touched a rock. Bingo. Silently, I threw it some twenty feet away from him, hoping the noise would send him after it. It worked. Bob jerked his head towards the direction of the sound, drool escaping his crooked mouth. With unbelievable speed, he dashed off towards where I threw the rock as I ran off in the other direction.
My stamina was amazing, as I ran and ran for miles without tiring. When I thought I had escaped from Bob, I finally slowed down to a quick trot. My breath came out in short, quick huffs. My head snapped quickly from side to side, looking for any watchers. After about ten minutes, I finally decided I wasn't being followed, and sat down. From here, I could still see the Queen's Tower; it was quite big up close, even for only 666 feet.
Then a shriek pierced my ears. Looking around in alarm, I saw a couple mutants rushing towards me; I was found.
I quickly jumped to my feet and spread my wings. The wingspan I had was only fifteen feet. Small, compared to the others, but nonetheless reliable. My wings made a sharp snap as I quickly put them to use, running and flapping. Soon, my feet didn't touch the ground anymore, as I took flight.
Roars of frustration were heard behind me as the mutants tried to grab me, unsuccessfully, with their large, clumsy hands. One of them looked like a Modern Age Tangy. The other looked like Benedict. Sometimes, before being mutated, the animals keep the last expression they wore before being changed. They both had a look of anger and sadness, mingled with fear.
I could feel a tear trickle down my cheek as I turned my head forward to watch my path.
Some hundred miles away later, I landed. But I had to take flight again almost immediately when there were more mutants.
They were ones I knew, or had heard of; Agent S, Kid Kat, Rolf, and more. How many of them were mutants? And how many of them were still left? Agent S and Rolf were part of the "good" guys, as we are sometimes called.
This pattern, I kept up for many days, before I was finally safe enough to write this journal. My hand is shaky, which explains the sloppiness.
Our official name was "The Resistance". The age is the "Mutant's Age". I was the leader of our resistance, and it was going to be me who was going to be in a final battle against the Queen.
Claire
