Hello Single reader. If You have found this thanks for looking at it. here is the back ground you will be needing for this.

this story connects to Burc ya Ordo 's story"The Tail of an Old Soldier"

this story is set in the Deadlands: hell on Earth universe. to give you the background you need it is an table top RPG where the Bombs have Dropped and the four horsemen of the apocalypse ride across the earth. a few rough and tumble survivors are fighting tooth and nail to save lives, stop evil, and just survive.

the characters in this story are based off of characters that we played in a long campaign. miraculously our characters managed to not only survive, but thrive. this caused these characters to sort of stick in our heads, and when the campaign had to end for real life reasons, most of us kind of wanted to finish the tail.

hope you like it

Audio Log #1

Cid Viekcious Log, October 12th, 999999999*error

Begin Recording…

How do you turn this thing off? I don't got time for this. *rustling. Click!* Okay. It doesn't turn off. Ah screw it. *car door opening*

*Unknown Voice, suspected Templar Hank Toonberry* Ah shit! *sound of metal armor crashing to ground* Cid! I can't walk

Fuck us said you could fix that yourself. Let me take a look at you. Okay your guts are just about paste. Can't you Lay on Hands?

*Toonberry* already did that when we ran into the automatons. Fuck Cid- Cid I'm cold!

That's because it's freezing here. Let's get ya in the house. If you can just hold on til' tomorrow you can fix yourself up.

*Toonberry* AHHHHHH!

Quit bitching you pussy you'll be alright.

*Car door closing* *Feet on stairs* *door closing*

Let's bandage this shit up. *Rustling and moans* that will hold you together.

*toonberry* Don't leave me!

I'm not going anywhere, dingleberry.

*Toonberry* We-we did good right? People… are going to l-live, because we stopped them, right? Cid… I'm c-cold.

You lost a lot of blood, and your stomachs ruptured. You're probably startin' to go septic. It is gonna hurt like hell the hole time, you just have to endure. Stick with me, dingleberry, if you die here you won't get to see Echo again.

*Toonberry* Cid can you do last rights?

I can say the words, but I'm Methodist.

*Toonberry* promise me you'll take my sword back to Boise!

Only if you die.

*twenty minutes later* Dingleberry? Yep you're dead. *sigh*

*four hours of quiet*

Still running huh? You know what fine. I said I'd record this stuff so I will.

The first thing I'm going to say is that I have no illusions about myself. I'm a murder, soldier, and weapon. I ain't gonna deny it. Nor am I gonna justify it. I'm just layin' my cards on the table for all to see.

My name is Cidney Viekscious. For the record I know it's a girl's name. Sadly gentlemen I'm a guy. Most people call me Cid.

I am a Syker. In case I'm talkin' to some sort of extra stupid brainer, I'll explain. Sykers like me have psychic powers. There are five flavors of psychic powers: Biokinesis, Psionics, Telekinesis, Sykokinesis, and Pyrokinesis. I'll give you a quick break down of them

Biokinesis is any psychic power that affect living bodies, most commonly human bodies. You got your standard, accelerated healing, heart stopping, causing paralysis, and blowing peoples heads like a bomb. Good stuff great at parties, and in a pinch.

Psionics is the standard mind raping stuff. You can listen to people thoughts, or rewrite them. You can fuck with peoples senses too, make the see and feel thing. I'm not a big fan of them myself.

Telekinesis is moving things with your mind. I use it mostly to rip bones out of peoples' bodies. It's simple but effective.

Pyrokinesis is starting fire with you mind. That is surprising fun to use. It also allows a ballsy person to walk through fire without burning. Although that is a great way to end up bare assed.

Sykokinesis is a hard one to pin down. It can fire psychic blasts, generate force fields, turn you invisible. I tend to use a power called One Man Army to fuck with people. I can be scary, eight to fifty clones backing me up scare most people shitless. Most don't know the clones can't do shit, but don't tell them that.

The only down side is that using these fun little powers often results in your head poundin' like a drum. Plus if you make the tiniest of mistakes you blow you head apart. The other problem is everyone has a set limit they can even do, it's tirin'. You strain yourself too hard an' you're gonna hit a wall.

On top of that we're divided into three catagories. The First is Earther Sykers. The old bastards lived through the Last War. They're full of piss and vinegar, but they can also blast a tank apart. Next is the Banshee Sykers. That's what I am. We were sent to the Far Away War. I'll get to that in a moment, but our claim to fame other than being the best sykers is that we can keep blastin' and blastin'. The last is the greenies. These little bastards were born after the bombs dropped. Besides blowin' the top off of their own heads, they also are known to overcharge their powers for added effect.

Hold up I have to go take care of that. *Footsteps heading down the stairs* *Twenty minutes of silence* feet heading up the stairs*

Okay. My earliest memories are of my civilian home. I remember the white house with the blue roof and shutters. I remember my little brother Franklin and I would play in the sand box. He like me was big for his age, had brown hair, and green eyes. I have the vaguest recollections of my mother holding my baby sister, and how she squeezed my hand tight, with her blue eyes starin' at me. Funny thing is I can't remember her name.

I'm not going to lie, life wasn't great. We were poor. My father worked as a hired hand on a farm that was slowly goin' under. My mother did her best to take care of us, but she had recently been diagnosed with MS, and it was rapidly progressing. Then there was me. I would get migraines. They hurt to the point that to this day I have yet to experience a greater pain. I shattered my hand in a door to take my mind off the pain. Didn't work. At first I thought I needed to slam the door harder, but then the swellin' set in. the other issue is during these episodes the house would shake, and random items would be flung around the rooms violently. People were not excluded from these events either.

Needless to say my parents were slightly concerned. I was tested for being a syker, by the Agency. I will never forget that day. A man I a black suit, duster, and Stemson hat arrive at our house. When he took off his hat, his bald head glistened. He made me lay down and used a strange machine to scan my head, then he did it again, and a third time. He told my mother that I was special, that the nation needed people like me. Then he said, "If you sign over custody of Cid over to us, we will give you $500,000."

Lookin' back on that day now, knowin' what I do now. I honestly believe she hoped to give me a better life, and secure my future that she most certainly wouldn't be in. At the time; I just learned to never love anyone. Eight years old, and my mom had sold me. I'm still just a bit bitter.

I was trained in a facility called, the Nexus. The main goal of the project was to test the weaponization of sykers. At this point sykers and their powers weren't well documented. I and about fourteen hundred other kids were involved.

According to the psych evals I exhibited a despondent nature, lack of empathy, and vindictive tendencies, when interacting with testers. That said it noted that I had above average psychic power, excellent focus, and superior mental fortitude. It also held that I was surprisingly flexible in my capacities. While it was no secret that I was a telekinetic, I was able to learn and master powers, from the pyrokinetic, sykokintetic, and biokinetic subcategories.

It still wasn't the greatest life. They tested us relentlessly, and as anyone can tell you these powers are dangerous. Of the fourteen hundred of us only 402 made it to the battlefield. This guy called Donner would test us. His favorite tests were when he got to test the few of us that learned how to mend our broken bones back together. We would be restrained, for our own safety, of course, and he would damage us. He cut me, hit me, and put my fingers in a vice to crush the bones.

*Chuckling* ha- I got loose one day. I took the scalpel of the table and lodged it in his spine. As he flounder about he screamed for the guards. Too bad for him, he had sound proofed the room. I spent a few minutes kicking him around, before I ended it. I wrapped my hands around his throat and squeezed screaming "On a scale from one to ten how would you rate the pain from this!" he tried to force me off him. I fired a slug of telekinetic energy right into his face. His head caved in and fluid burst out of his mouth, nose, ears, and eyes. That was the first time I killed someone. I was 10 ten years old.

I had expected this little incident to get me killed. The exact opposite happened actually. I was left in that room for about six hours. Just when I was about to try forcing the door, a man entered. He was tall; his broad chest was covered in medals. He had a thick jaw, and short black hair. His knuckles had the scars that come from knock someone's teeth out.

He looked around the room. He looked at Donner. He grabbed donner's rolling chair and sat in it backwards. Finally now only a few inches taller than me he looked at me. After a brief moment he said, "You kill him?" I answered yes. He snorted and grinned. "You're a pretty tough kid." When I said nothing he continued "I want to put you in charge of four other kids," he said. "You are to teach them how you smashed that guys face. You also will be left to your own devices after morning exercises." Before I could agree he cut in, "but you have to produce results, maintain order, and you will be held responsible for the soldiers you command. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Fuck yeah," I said. And with that we left that room, and I never had to return to it. I didn't know it at the time, but that man was Paul Warfield. He was there at the time to judge the effectiveness of the project. He had found out what I'd done, and decided to stake his career on a theory of his. If you put the ruthless and unstoppable in charge, they will make everyone else ascend to their level. Next time I met him he was a general.

I was put in charge of Private Mary Eastover, Private Douglas Ferns, Private Waldo Stripe, and Private Daniel Marin. My official rank was Private First Class. I like every other group leader had killed someone. To be honest a lot of those guys were nuts.

Mary was the youngest. At only seven years old. She was short, and her round cheeks were often covered in scratches and bruises from the morning training. She like me had manifested her powers early. Her blonde hair was slowly falling out in random clumps when I met her. She had blue eyes. She was shy, and a bit of a crybaby. She also liked to draw. I would have to take away her pencils to get her to follow orders. She was psionic, but due to sheer luck she had taken to telekentic powers, and ben mislabeled by the program. She tried to teach me some, but I could never stomach being in someone else head.

*several minutes of silence* thought I heard something.

Doug was a great big bastard. At thirteen he stood nearly six feet tall. He like all of us was slowly growing muscular and grim. His nose was all fucked up it was bent about ninety degrees to the right. He was agreeable, and did what I told him without trouble. He also was the one that taught me the basics of pyrokinesis.

Stripe was a thin and angled son of bitch. His face always reminded me of horse. He was a prick too. Because he was fifteen he thought he should be in charge, and tried to take control. I mentioned before that I was big for my age, but if anything I was mean for my age. I put Stripe in the medical ward with a broken jaw, and torn rotary cuff. The only thing to come of this was the first lesson I was to teach was how to heal quicker. He was a biokenetic anyway, and he ended up teaching me a few tricks along the way.

Finally we had Marin. At seventeen he was the oldest of us. He was surprisingly helpful, and reliable. He was tall thin, and had wire framed glasses. He was a lot better at diplomacy than I was, so I often had him serve as our face.

*Sound of full auto fire*

Mother Fucker! One minute. *sound of an explosion* *sound of several people screaming*

Stupid blackhat assholes! alright where was I? Oh yeah. This is when both the casualties and the results skyrocketed. It was part of the brilliance of Warfield's theory. We had to earn everything. First thing we earned was food. After that our group earned beds. Mary spent most nights in my room. She said she was having nightmares, and didn't want to be alone. Most of her nightmares were about fire and skulls in the sky.

You can say what you want, about human rights, and how we were just children, but heres the kicker. In the wild a syker will if lucky just never learn to use their powers. Far more likely they will kill themselves due to brain burn, the mortality rate for untrain sykers is 98.95 percent by eighteen. Then the bastards that manage not to pop their tops tend to use their powers on the people at large with no discrimination other than their own ideals. At least we were trained to kill other soldiers.

It took us five years, and immeasurable blood, sweat and tears, but we earned a civilian life. I contacted my family once. By that point they had moved to the city. Mom had died. My little brother and I exchanged a few awkward sentences, before I just hung up.

Marin took this opportunity to get married. We had to live on base, but that still didn't stop him from finding a girl dumb enough to marry him. Nice lady, her name was Josephine. After about nine month and three days they had a son. He was named Toby.

Our powers advance quickly, and we started incorporating both common, and specialty weapons into our regiment. I was great with melee weapons myself, and would use my powers for ranged engagements. Our trainin' also focused heavily on hit and run tactics, and guerilla war.

Two years more and we got our marchin' papers. Turns out the colonies in Banshee were under attack, by the native inhabitants. We were going to go in there and save the day. Like everybody else I was given gear and a gun. Unlike most people I was promoted to Sargent.

My group and several others like us, from all around the world were assigned to the Black Lighting Squad. Now a lot of people think we were part of the Fighting 43rd, but we were our own squad. We were the first one's on every battle the legion participated in, and the last ones off. The fighting 43rd were almost always right behind us. This lead to both squads being thrown into the meat grinder enough that at the end of the war less than eighte men from both squads returned home. About half way through the war, the 43rd and black lightning were just deploy as a single squad. This lead to the fucking confusion. Lookin' at you Kowalski.

Mary was the youngest member in the legion at 14. Tom Killian was the oldest at 31. The average age of a legion member was 19. We were kids. We were called because we were special. Our egos were so big back then.

I actually ran into General "Overkill" Warfield. He had come to inspect the troops. He looked at me and smiled. I'll never forget what he said to me, "You remind me, a lot of me at your age. You'll do great things soldier."

It turns out that thanks to the project's success he had been promoted ahead of his schedule, and now all he had to do was wipe out this rebellion, and he would be running a planet. He used us like tools, because that is what we were to him. I can't say that I hate the man, but I won't mourn him.

Our first mission in the field was a nightmare. The anouks were trying to take a supply base. Let's talk about the anouks for a second. They were the native inhabitants that the colonist need saving from. From what I can tell, they are lizard people. Their scales are purple. They stand about a foot taller than a normal person, and they're a shitload stronger. That said there tech was in the bow and arrow stage. Some of them had gotten ahold of guns either through trade or murder, and the anouks decided to grab some more so they could murder us a little more. They also had a huge number advantage over us. At least a hundred to one, it was common for us to be standing in ankle deep blood on the battlefield with another wave of them charging us.

Anyways the first mission. We were sent to fortify the defenses and if possible neutralize any Skinnies we encountered. Everyone says Skinnies are some sort of skeletal Anouk with psychic powers. I'm not drinking that koolaid. I'll get to why in a couple of minutes. We thought we were prepared. We thought we were going to flat out cock slap these lizard bastards. *laughter*

They came at us over the northern hill. That first charge was something to behold a thousand anouks in full armor charged us. Some of them were mounted on these sort of cross between a horse an' a dragon like thing. Most of the legion members froze. The rest of the forces knew enough to open fire. I had to shout the order to fire repeatedly over the defense force's guns.

The rain of bullets tore into the anouks like piss through fresh snow. That still didn't stop them from getting to the wall though. The walls were made of a yellow rock called tannis. It is only found on Banshee. It is about as hard as steel and it is everywhere on the planet. They ripped a hole in it like it was clay. Turns out the anouks can reshape tannis like clay. It would have been nice if the shitheels in command would have told us that.

Once the anouks got in the base things went to shit. I managed to let off a blast of fire without burning the ammo dump down, but that didn't stop them. This is when our people started die. Most of the anouks sculpt tannis into these great big axes. They can cleave a man in half with a single swing. Hell I saw one of the stronger one cut threw a foot thick support beam with them. I have even seen an anouk woman smash a wolverine power armor to shit with a tannis hammer.

One smashed my gun, if it wasn't for Mary, I would be dead. She tore into its mind, and made it bash its own brains out. Marin covered me until I could draw my combat knife. Things turned in our favor after that. One glorious bastard had managed to get mind slam off. About twenty of the anouks in the base just slammed into the ground and popped like balloons.

I managed to get to the breach in the wall. Marin, Ferns and Mary stuck with me. There is a small gap in Anouk armor right at the throat. You stick one there and they flop about trying to stop the bleeding for a while. Between that, my side arm, and suppressing fire from the others, we managed to hold the fort for ten hours. The hole more or less plugged itself with the bodies of dead anouks. They were tired and our back up arrived. Five hovertanks, and a platoon of EXForce.

Just when I thought we had them he appeared. I didn't see him at first. He stood about seven feet tall. I would be surprised to hear if he weighed 120 lbs. though. In his right hand he held a black stick, and he wore a black cape. He turned to our reinforcements. A pillar of fire near 200 feet across erupted to life. On a good day I could make a twenty foot blast of flame. Needless to say the people outside the tanks were fried. The sorry bastards inside the tanks were slow roasted, before the heat slagged the tank. Like I said before, I don't think the skinnies are anouks. I don't know what they are, but they aren't anouks they are just too strong.

To be fair that tired him out. That's why when he turned to us he just reached into our heads, and forced us to tear each other apart. Every member of EXForce started beating each other to death. About one in ten of the Legion managed to resist this. I was not one of them. I watched as I slammed my fist into Marin's face. His glasses cut into his eyebrow. My hands seized his throat. He struggled desperately to break free, but I had thirty pounds, and fuck load of leverage on him. I couldn't stop myself. That alien presence forced me to squeeze tighter. Marin's eyes bulged. He struggled but with each attempt he was growing weaker. I could hear shouts, and screams of people I had grown up with.

Mary smashed the butt of her rifle into my head. I let go Marin and turned on her. She was just a kid, and I was the closest thing to family she had. She was like a sister to me. I dove at her. She hesitated. By the time she reflexively pulled the trigger I had ducked the barrel. I slammed into her. My fist slammed into her face, once, twice, three times. She stared into my eyes. She forced her way into my brain.

Between her power, and my own will, I managed to slip the Skinny's chains. I didn't have time to tend to Marin, or Mary. They just laid there as I sprinted towards the northeast parapet. A Psychic artillery weapon or PAW was mounted there. I had to hack and slash my way through people to get to it. I plugged the needles into my arms, and the back of my head.

I took aim poured everything I had into the PAW. When I was strained to my limit I pushed even more into the weapon. I don't know how, but contact with the skinny's mind had allowed me to spend more strain then was normally possible.

I fired. The PAW unleashed a blast of kinetic energy about eight feet in diameter. I lucked out and just managed to hit the bastard. He hadn't had his defenses up. My guess he was too busy whacking off to the carnage he was causing. The blast pulped him and blew a six hundred foot tunnel through the tannis hill behind him.

The sounds of battle faded. As people came to their senses most took that moment to loose there shit. They had been forced to commit atrocities against their friends. A few people took this time to eat their guns. I don't blame them.

A helicopter was landing in the base. I looked to see several members of Wendigo Squad disembarking. I forced myself to me feet. Every neuron in my brain burned. The skin on the top of my head was blistering. I made my way toward the new arrivals.

Lydia, that is to say Lieutenant Mazzuchelli and I were the only two on our feet. She looked at me and said, "You look as bad as I feel, Sargent"

The wendigos asked a few questions took some of the dead bodies, and then left. I don't know what they were up to, or what their job was, but they always showed up after the fighting with skinnies. Med evac. Arrived about an hour after that. Marin, Mary, and Ferns managed not to die. We didn't talk about what happened that day.

Over the next few months we encountered about six skinnies, according to the official records. If you ask me I think we only encountered two. It is hard to describe, but as alien as a skinny's mind is it has a distinct feel to it. They made it a point to reach into peoples' minds in painful and perverse ways. I learned to shut them out, everybody who lived did. We burned them, crushed them, and died by the dozen to do it, but the same presence kept coming back for more.

We all learned a way of coping. Ferns and I turned to drinking. Marin had started chain smoking and stopped sleeping. Stripes had died the third time we fought the skinnies. They ripped his skeleton out of his body. You wouldn't think he could scream during something like that, but he could and he did. Mary would often just stare into space for a few hours at a time, but was always ready for missions.

Blood and promotions trickled down on us like rain. Before too long I was Gunnery Sargent. This is about the time I met Kowalski. He was one of the four officers in existence that I didn't hate. He could have hid behind us, and just scraped by at his job, but he was good to us. Plus the old poon hound brought a Wolverine battle mech with him. He was easily in the top ten mech pilots I saw in the war.

At this point we were being sent to slaughter villages. Most of them had nothing worth killing in them, but we killed them anyway. Life became the roar of gunfire, the glimmer of flame, and the screams of the dying. After a particularly bloody fight, that Kowalski was almost killed in. Get this he managed to get ripped out of his Wolverine, and kidnapped by an anouk. When we finally caught up and rescued him he was tied up naked to a mating bed. I don't think he knows how lucky he was that we showed up when we did.

*sound of door being kick open* *unkown voice presumed black hat* Die you Bitch!

*short burst of gunfire* *sounds of a skuffle* can't! *thunk* you! *thunk* see! *thunk* that! *thunk* I'm! *thunk* trying! *thunk* to! *thunk* Record! *thunk* this!

*gurgling*

Those damn black hats. There like weeds.

*Gurgle*

Shut up! *Crunch!* anyway this is the point where things get weird. One day an Anouk shaman came to our base and demanded to face me in a dual. I'll be honest I was half way bombed at this point, and went along with it. Turns out that the soldiers were more afraid of me, than they were of getting into trouble for not reporting this.

The Shaman and I walked out into the wilderness. The yellow sand was blowing around and obscured vision beyond a few hundred feet. She turned to face me. I expected anger. I expected hatred. Instead she said, "I have dreamed of you." I don't even remember what I said to that. "You know the truth about the ones you call Skinnies. You must keep fighting them." She pulled the tannis axes off of her belt. "these will help you, but you must be made Banshee born." When I asked her how she said, "Baptism in blood."

She came at me with the axes. It quickly turned into a her-or-me situation. I managed to hit the sweet spot in her armor. She collapse on me, and I was knocked to the ground. Like countless time before I was soon covered in Anouk blood. This time was different. The blood was boiling hot. The instant it touched my skin it seeped into my body. Ever since that day I could hear it. It is faint now, but the tannis sings. The song is hard to describe, but beautiful is the best word I have.

I had my blood tested. It was completely normal. I found that I could power the Tannis with my mind. Turning the axes into a freight train worth the damage, they felled Skinnies like purple satanic oaks. That didn't stop them from coming back, but it killed them faster. I never found another soldier that could do this.

I spent some time learning more about anouk culture. For some reason even though I didn't speak their language, and the vast majority didn't speak mine we could understand each other. The anouk language is a deep rolling melody of tongue. It reminds me of the song of tannis.

The vast majority wouldn't speak with me, and the ones that did often had little else to say than to ask for the treaties of old to be honored. They aren't a bad people, but I wouldn't call any I knew friend.

One showed me something I never would have guessed. Ghost rock, the reason we were even here, sang a song too. It was a dark and complex thing, and it made my blood run cold. I hear it all the time here on earth.

*unknown voice, assumed Red Hat* "Cid! Come out now and surrender or I'll level that building on top of you!

Can you believe this bullshit! This is the last time I hold a line for Junkyard. It will only be a day or two my ass!

*assumed Red Hat* "You have until I count to ten! One! Two! Three!

Oh shit! That is a lot of guys. This is going to hurt in the morning. Telekinesis isn't meant to throw cars. Errrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!

*assumed Red Hat* Get down! *Crash!*

Good the fuel tank ruptured *rustling* Ah there's the flare gun. *Thoomp!* *Boom!* *for the next three minutes screams and moans of black hats dying from fire and smoke.*

Might be worth mentioning that at the time of recording this I am holding a way point for Junkyard. It's called operation Stiff Arm. Everybody is collecting for something big. So Dingleberry and I attacked a Combine base, and lured their dumb ass up into a little kill zone. This was supposed to be a short distraction, while Junkyard got it's shit together. General Throckmorton just keeps sending combine idiot after idiot here. I signed on for two days. I've been here for nearly a week. No word, no sign of reinforcements, no suplies, and I'm starting to actually get lonely. Nothing against Dingleberry, but he just isn't good company anymore.

So this eye for an eye shit just left a bunch of us working soldiers dead, and mutilated. That was when Warfield sent a squad into the Red River Valley. They disappeared. So he sent another one in. they reported finding a bunch of mutilated corpses, and promptly disappear. So a third offering of meat was thrown in the grinder. They reported being under attack and then went dark.

So this is when we were all just lobbed into the Red River Valley. At first the fighting was brutal Ferns took an arrow to the face. It is strange watching someone transition from person to big sack of meat. You would think there would be a clear line, but most people twitch a little and then there's the death rattles.

All hell broke loose when the lost squads were found. The guys we found, well it looked like someone tried to turn their heads inside out. They also were clearly tortured. Every one of them was covered in painful, but not immediately lethal wounds. Most had broken knees, and hands, and feet.

To say we went bat shit doesn't cover it. Everything we found died, most died horribly. We had always been brutal, those were our orders, that day we were cruel. We ripped bone from bodies. We burned women and children. My kill count nearly tripled that day.

Warfield painted us as heroes. To the colonies we were the now 382 men and women that had annihilated the evil anouk rebels. There were pictures taken, and Marin, Mary, and I were selected to be used in a recruitment campaign for more soldiers from both earth and the colonies. Like always they played up our noble deeds

As bad as that day was, it was nothing to every day that came after. Killing in anger is easy, you're not thinking. Once the anger fades and the reality of what you did sets in. Marin had taken up my habit of drinking. Mary on the other hand had started to show up in my quarters at night. She said she was having nightmares again. She said the sky back home was full of fire and skulls.

Fun fact, that none of us knew at the time. There was a weapon called a Ghost Rock Bomb. It was made of irradiated Ghost rock, and a little plutonium. When these bad boys blew they formed a skull shaped mushroom cloud. The big "adventage to these slightly lower yield bombs was that the radiation was s'posed to fade after about two months. That isn't what happened.

Anyways, now Captain Lydia Mazzuchelli, Kowalski, and I had all pushed for some sort of psychological treat for about a third of the legion. Some of us were starting to crack. The standard flash backs, nightmares, and occasional halucinations that were interfering with our lives. We needed solid healthy members, and most of us were barely held together. These requests were promptly ignored. The voodoo gurus and white swans did what they could to help, but there simply weren't enough hours in the day.

One day Mary was her normal self again. She hadn't talked to anyone. She hadn't changed anything in her routine. Nothing, but she was her normal prewar self. Marin and I asked about this and she said. "I just accepted I'm going to hell for what we've done. You know same things you guys did."

*Whistling Growing steadily louder*

Oh shit! *Static* *unknown Voice* "The righteous*Static* know no fear *static* grant you strength* Static* *Explosion of arterially shell registered 170dB.*

I can't believe they missed! Stupid bastards! Okay what do I have left *sounds of things falling to the floor.* junk, junk, junk, last ration, water. Yeah none of that is worth a damn. Serious nobody just left a grenade for me to use. Nothing? Well fuck.

Let's see what they got out there. *Multiple guns firing.* *ting* gotta love armor. If I had a grenade for every time my helm saved my life… I'd have a grenade right now at least. *ting* ow! Yeah that was vital. Amor didn't stop that. Oh fuck look at that thing bleed. All right one dead bolt, two, three, four, five, and six. If I pop my head doing this at least I'll take someone with me. Healing takes too long to do anyway.

*sonic boom followed by distant screaming* Oh did I get you guys! I would say sorry but, I'm sure yer too busy fucking your cousins or somethin' to hear me!

* Thomas Zulk, Known Red Hat* Fuck you! How the hell did you throw bolts that fast.

Just out of curiosity did I manage to hit one of you ladies in the neck? Is there a Frankenstein, bolt-necked, mother fucker runnin' about?

*rifle firing* *wood splintering*

Is that a no? *Thud* oh a grenade. Right back at you! *Boom!* seriously who doesn't cook their grenades. Holy shit I've started talking to myself. Well… awkward.

The last big offensive was Castle Rock. At this point the resistance only had one fortress left. It was this crazy hard to get to fortress built into the wall of a cliff. The entirety of this shit can was made of tannis. Artillery did dick. In my experience it doesn't ever solve problems. After a quick resupply we set out. The Flying dragons dropped us on the roof. While most other groups charged the main gate.

Mary and I brought up the rear. The top floor was empty. Just as Lydia reached the bottom of the stairs we were attacked by Kreech, the leader of the rebellion, and her most trusted shamans in the front. Behind a skinny appeared. By this time I recognized him. It was the same bastard that has been throwing down with us this whole time.

Mary took the hit. He lobbed her against the wall hard enough to crack the tannis. I charged him with my axes. I don't think the rest of the squad even knew the bastard was there. I cut his head off with a lucky swing. The body died, and that dark essence remained, like it always did. Every rumor about me killing one for real is just that.

I checked on Mary. The back of her head was shattered, as was her spine. Judging by how pale she was she was bleeding internally and quickly. She looked at me and asked, "Cid, am I really going to go to hell?"

She was gone before I could answer.

I didn't have time for morning. I had left dozens of family members dead on the battlefield before. Today was no different. Besides there were living people to help at the moment. The fight didn't last as long as you would think. Kreech and them were fighting to kill us, not to live, but at the end of the day they just weren't skinnies.

Just about the time we breathed a sigh of relief the castle broke free of the cliff. A lot of the guys that made it out of there will tell you that I held the roof up and saved everyone. Honest to god, I was only trying to save myself. The good captain took a spear to mid-section. She was more angry than dying, but it still scared the shit out of Kowalski.

By the time we were air carried out, someone had set the place ablaze. I watched as that crock of murder and death faded into a burning cinder on the horizon. That was the official moment that I stopped giving even the tiniest of fucks about this place. I retreated into booze, Marin stopped sleeping all together, Lydia dabbled in both of our methods, and Kowalski, well he did what he always did in those situations. He endured.

Around this time we heard about The Last War. I honestly wasn't surprised. On banshee we had the Anouks to fight with, but on earth there was only each other. So after about four years of sitting around slaughtering the last remnants of resistance we were finally called home. That fucking boat!

*Multiple footsteps on stairs.* *Thomas Zulk* "I am going to enjoy killing you."

I'm seeing bats, and knives. Where are the gun guys?

*Thomas Zulk* I don't need a gun to kill you. Look at you. You're practically swimming in your own blood.

I'm taking that as you don't have any. Do you know why no one wants to face off with a syker?

*Thomas Zulk* Why

Because, we need to see you to use the majority of our powers. *Crack!* also I can snap neck with my mind. *Thud!* whose next lads.

*shout of anger* person running* *Crack!**thud* you next fatty *Crack**thud*

*unknown voice, confirmed black hat* please, just let me go! I'll never bother you again! I swear. Please?

You ever kill anyone kid?

*Black hat* yeah, but I was just following orders.

Fair enough. I was a soldier in far way. I know you're too young for The Last War, but I bet you fought a lot of Muties these last few years, rights?

*black hat* yeah. Dozens.

Isn't funny when they start screaming for mercy. The fucking monster asking for mercy after eating children. Kill them all right?

*both laugh*

*black hat* Yeah, I make the Muties suffer. *Crack!* *Thud*

Yeah I figured.

*Five minutes of heavy breathing* fine don't stop bleeding. See if I care. Let's end this.

The Unity was the Ship that brought us to Banshee, and sadly we had to ride that tube back. Most of us realized we were about to go to war with each other. So we… we promised to not fight each other. A few rotten bastards wouldn't take the oath. I've been looking for them…

*one minute of silence*

That was when things went tits up the way between Earth and Banshee was connected by what was called the tunnel. Apparently we clipped the side of it. Before anybody knew what was happening the ship was crawling with demons, and monsters of every kind you could think. Luckily Kowalski and I were in the right place at the right time. We got as many people off the boat as we could, but…*three minutes of silence* I'm back. Not everyone got away. Lydia for one stayed behind. Found out about ten month ago that she somehow made it off the ship anyway, and then was beaten to death by a biker gang. *Laughter* funny what gets people in the end.

Anyways Kowalski, Marin, and I and a bunch of other Lucky bastard hopped a ship and made it to Austin, Texas. To find that you stupid sacks of shit blew the world up. Good job on that; saved us legion guys a lot of time really. Marin bailed to find his family. He found them, buried next to her parents. Kowalski family was right in the blast zone of Annapolis so they're dead. I found out my brother bought the farm in Memphis about two months before we got back. That was the day I stopped counting my kills. *laughing* don't know dick about my dad or sister.

Kowalski and I well we came to an understanding. We drive around and kill the shit out of the monsters, the combine, and whatever else falls under the title of bad guy.

*mumblings* Cutter shut up! No one was talking to you… Like she said I'm going to hell. I might as well take the biggest baddest thing with me. *Thud* *quite laughter* I've fallen and I can't get up. *quite laughter* nothin' to take with me either.

*two and a half hours of silence*

*Truck's Air Horn*

*Echo, Doomsayer* Cid! Come on! Let's Go! *feet on Stairs* Cid!

The surrounding area of outpost 386 was surrounded by no less that 286 black hat corpses. The bodies of Cid Viekscios, and Templar Toonberry were not found in outpost neither was the sword. It is beilved due to their action Thockmorton's southern front was stopped cold for eight days before unity.

At this time the fate of Kolwalski, Cid, and Echo is unknown.

Thanks again for reading. This will not be the format for the rest of the story. I wrote this chapter this way, because every source book in deadlands explains the mythos of the world this way.

please review and comment, even if you hated it. I am hoping to improve my writhing through this.