A/U: So here it is, now replying to ze comments:

DBD Turdukken X: I don't know that much of calibers, yet but I'll keep this noted. Thank you for the comment.

Enough about this shiet, enjoy : )

CHAPTER TWO: A LONG WAY FROM HOME

Zooming through the highways of California were two pickup trucks. One was a caravan truck that belonged to Johann, alongside it was his escort's. Compared to his truck, his escort's truck had a few moderations added to it, and one of it being metal sheets welded into the hood, rims, back and front of the truck itself. Additionally, it also had fences welded into the windows, in hopes of making it bulletproof.

As disoriented as the displayed part may seem, the back part of it is what makes it very interesting. It had a .50 caliber on a rotating platform armored to the boot, keeping the gunner safe.

In Johann's caravan, at the very front seat, sat Harper who was in deep thought.

"Why do they even need my help if they have a chance against the outcast?" he whispers under his breath, his chin gently placed onto the back of his hand as he faced the covered window, trying to imagine right now what California would look like in such a disoriented state.

"I mean, they literally have all the firepower they need in order to wipe out any Outcast that could threaten them along the way," he continues, still muttering incoherent words underneath his breath. Good thing the caravan was a bit rickety and old, making it cause lot's of noises as it drove along the way because surely without that Johann would've heard those and things may not end well.

Harper sat a seat behind Johann. Throughout the whole time, aside from over analyzing everything, he's also been eyeing his rifle. Giving it glances here and there. Of course, there came a time where he got tired of it so he moved to the seat where Johann sat. Unlike his, Johann's window didn't have any barricades or such to it, so from there Harper glanced at the abandoned, rotting Los Angeles and what's left to it. There were bodies everywhere, decomposing, decomposed, skeletons, you name it.

The whole city was covered with grass and trees, with vines creeping up the walls that remained standing, the leaves covering the vast majority of what's left of the cement. One thing that stood out ever since the bombings from the military were the holes in the ground, ranging from long to short, shallow to deep, they were all filled with water that served as habitat for whatever living being that may need it.

As in-habitable the places may seem, the unfortunate ones dubbed as "Freak's" by the military habitated it. They still acted like people, but it was as if they have a hive or one mind.

It was strange at first, the infected showed simple signs such as a normal fever and severe coughs. Then their skins started to turn muddy green resembling a muddy green of a swamp, showing uneven shades of green pigmenting the skin day by day. This is followed by different kinds of plants growing all around their skin. Few weeks later, they grow mad, starting to kill anyone around them, either that or the other victims were forced to ingest some sort of parasite or seed they called "Mother's Gift." Once the victim digests the seed it's all over, FEMA announced that it took at least fifteen seconds before the they turn into a feral, which populated most of the country.

It didn't take long for them to fully overrun the city and claim it as theirs, this left the rest of humanity to fend against them.

Harper was pulled out from his string of thoughts as a movement ahead caught his attention. He pushed Johann lightly with hopes that he's noticed the movement as well. Disappointment washed over through him though when all Johann ever replied to him was a questioning look.

"Is there something wrong?" Johann asks, concern washing over his face as he stares at Harper hardly.

"Yeah. Stop the caravan and make sure you turn off the engines," Harper orders. Johann quickly got his radio and ordered the driver to stop. The vehicle halted, silence blanketing the whole space before it was interrupted by the loud buzzing of Johann's radio. The driver was wondering why they were stopping.

Without saying anything further, Harper got out, strapping his rifle around him and walking out slowly, making sure to not make any noises. The wind was pretty strong, blowing his cloak to the side and making his hair an exploding mess. Taking cover at a nearby police cruiser, he fixed himself before taking a peak and trying to see anything that would be significant to him.

Looking around, all his eyes saw were shopping districts, majority being closed and boarded up. He took his scope and glanced around using his scope, trying to see anyone. So far he only saw Freaks. They still had clothes on so his guess is that they're still fresh. He makes a mental note to watch out for them because the last thing he wants tonight is to become green or somebody's dinner.

Harper inched closer to the right, trying to get a better view. A Feral, another type of Freak, fell into his line of vision. It's brown skin had rough edges around it, forming some kind of bump. Looking carefully, he came to a conclusion that it was an armored Feral. Harper then remembered that it was a mutation caused by the virus since he himself remembers vividly encountering several others like these before. Compared to the normal Freaks, these were a bit harder to kill since their skin are hard, resembling the bark of a tree due to said mutation. A knife or pistol wouldn't necessarily suffice, it could but it'd just take up both your energy and time.

Harper counted roughly six freaks roaming around, most of them talking to themselves or nature, making sure to touch and feel every plant, tree, vine, and nature related things along the way.

Looking through the scope, Harper took a shark intake of breath. His hand was just right above the trigger, waiting for the right time to aim the Barker that fell into his line of vision. Being cautious is one thing he wanted to do, especially in this situation considering the heavy wind coming from the right.

A few moments later, he pulled the trigger. The loud bang echoed throughout the field, scaring off a couple of raven's on the way. Harper waited for a few moments before grasping the bolt and gliding it again, earning him a satisfying shriek followed by a loud thud from the distance. Pushing the bolt back, he glided it back into position before rotating it and and locking the bolt handle in. Shot after shot fired through the air, all followed by loud shrieks filled with pain. Soon enough, all Harper could see through his scope were dead Feral's laying on their own puddle of blood with chunks of green and brown around it.

The moment he's finished what he's done, he walked back into the caravan, noticing some of Johann's men admiring him in awe, even catching one of them checking through his binoculars the spot where dead Feral's lay.

When Johann finally saw Harper seated peacefully at his seat, he signaled the driver to drive through his speaker. The car ride was mostly quiet, with Johann looking like he has a thousand questions to ask yet has no amount of courage to do so. Harper noticed this and decided to do the man a favor by doing the initiative of asking.

"I suppose you want to ask some questions, right, trader?" Harper asks, a smirk evident on his lips as he leans back on his seat, watching Johann. The question itself startled Johann, but seeing this as a one in a lifetime opportunity in getting able to know more about the man in front of him, he decided to think of a question. Threading around his words, he tried to articulate one that wouldn't strike a nerve.

"Well," he started off, testing the waters. He paused for a moment, eyeing Harper who looked calm as ever. The silence stretched, causing Harper to get a bit impatient. He stared at Johann with a questioning look, arching one eyebrow and beckoning him to continue his question.

"What got you into this...sort of business, Mister Drake?" Johann asks, gesturing towards the gun and such that Harper held.

Harper chuckled, amused at how formal Johann is at times, "Are you always this formal, Johann? Or should I say, trader Johann?" he says the sentence in a deep voice that resembled Johann's as a form of mockery.

"I myself have come from a family that has taught me manners, etiquette and such therefore yes it would actually be quite pleasing to be addressed as trader Johann, especially from you," Johann answers, not a hint of displeasure or whatnot to be seen on his face, causing Harper to let out a nervous chuckle.

Harper couldn't help but smile under his mask, half thanking it for being there to censor his facial expressions half of the time, "Interesting. My father himself has integrated some values into me. He was a person worth looking up to, being a mayor of the town and all, having to organize it and stuff. My mother herself has taught me some things as well, but most of the time she had she spent it around animals. She was just..a doctor in training, so….yeah."

Johann stayed quiet, only blinking but very rapidly before letting out a low, "okaaaay."

"I ask this with no disrespect at all, but, what does this have to do with your job description?" Johann asks, confusion evident in his voice and facial expression as Harper's once joyous state shifts into one of annoyance.

"Well…" he trails off, "What the fuck do you expect me to tell you? There's no shit to say. There's no sob story. It just aaaallll began with me killing one person and in that moment I thought, "Oh, hey! Maybe I could make a living out of this." And so, I did!" he screams, letting out a scoff to finish his sentence.

Johann panicked, his eyes wide and all as he mumbles out, "Forget I asked."

A sigh slips out of Harper's lips once he realizes the effect of his words on Johann. In a much calmer tone, he spoke, "Look, I apologize for that. There are just..some things I'd rather keep burried rather than spend the time to dig out," he pauses and waits for a reaction, only to receive silence from Johann, "plus," he adds on, "you're my cli-ent," he emphasizes, "what we're doing here is busi-ness," he gestures between them, "and I don't think talking about our backstories were part of the agreement or contract, so don't ever bring them up ever again, got it?"

"Yes," Johann squeaks, "loud and clear."

When the caravan went to a halt, Harper sighs in relief while relishing the few moments of silence that covered up the inside of the tiny vehicle. If anything, he's had enough of Johann's stories or what Johann himself would call his "Epic Tales." Most of them were about him being outside the capitol, even mentioning that throughout his journeys beyond the borders he's run into some guy who turned out to be his long lost cousin.

Johann throughout the quick halt observed his surroundings, drinking in the aftermath of the virus. There were overruned red cross stations, FEMA outposts left to rot, with plants growing on the barricades, alongside with the caracasses of the dead FEMA doctors. Most of the roads were blocked by scattered cars that were hastily evacuated from by people when they first heard of the disease alongside the bombings of the city. This has created a roadblock.

Shifting his gaze towards Harper, he watched him play with his knife, performing tricks with it. That being a bit too much for his faint heart, his gaze decided to travel up to his face. Johann assumed that the man was in his early twenties, with the long auburn hair, piercing green eyes, and smooth skin complexion. He was fairly thin, but Johann sensed that he must be hiding something underneath his poncho.

"Johann, we're almost there to Berk. Jeremiah saw an Outcast checkpoint ahead though so we have to watch out for that. Should we just go and push through it? I'm confident our armor can withstand it," one of the escorts reported through the radio. Harper overheard what the man just said, and Johann was aware of it as well.

"Stop the caravan and don't drive unless I say so," Harper orders, "Once I shoot this flare," Harper proposes, pulling out a red flare gun from his back, "it's clear to ram through the checkpoint."

"Noted, noted, not-"

"But, but," Harper continues, "make sure to stop so that I have time to get in. Got it?"

"Yes, sir. Of course. We will be waiting on your signal," Johann responded before radioing the caravan to stop before repeating what Harper has told him to the driver.

Strapping his rifle, Harper got out of the vehicle only to backtrack and go back inside again to get his Beretta. Once he's sure of his valuables, he calmly got out and tried to find a hill for him to snipe at. Finding the perfect spot, he situated himself and peeked through the scope, trying to spot for onlooking enemies.

A pickup truck with a mounted .50 caliber and a shield facing the road was the first thing that fell into his line of sight. Harper sighed, thinking that this was going to be more of a challenge taking down than he thought. Looking further, he spotted an Outcast walking on the road, alone, behind him was a makeshift tower of cars stacked upon other cars stacked on an old donut shop. He then saw yet again another Outcast holding a Benelli pump action shotgun on his right and a FN Scar on his left.

"These guys must have raided an evacuation zone since those are mostly military grade," Harper mutters, voicing out his observations as he continued to look around.

The checkpoint itself was easy to breakthrough since the only thing it was made of that's keeping it together were old scrap of poorly arranged galvanized metals, Harper then shifted his gaze, seeing that there, from the right stood an office building with silhouettes of what he assumes to be Outcasts. From what he's seeing, most of them carried pistols and melee weapons, making them an easy target, especially for him.

Slinging his rifle, Harper got up and walked back to Johann's caravan. He opened the door, only to get startled and let out a sound of disgust when he walks in on Johann clipping his nose hair.

"Yeah, uh, please don't do that. Also, here, take my rifle," Harper says in a cold tone, handing Johann his rifle before slamming the door shut, trying to get the imagery of Johann's previous acts out of his head.

He pulled out his Beretta, clipping the silencer and twisting on the barrel till it was locked in position. After that, he pulled out another handgun but this time it was a revolver, the exact same gun he used with Demsey's problem. He checked how much ammunition was left inside before slamming the clip shut and placing the gun on the back of his pants.

Once the revolver was secured, he headed for the checkpoint. Harper crept carefully towards it, making sure to hug the walls of the alleyways he'd pass by, trying not to get caught. As he walked through, conversations from muffled voices traveled from wall to wall, most of it coming from Outcasts reminiscing the times they escaped from prison.

When Harper reached the office building, he pulled out the knife from his chest and opened the door slowly, trying not to make a single sound while doing so. The reception is what first greeted him when he got inside, along the way, he heard a series of voices coming from the employee bathroom, catching his attention. Carefully, he walked in there instead, witnessing two Outcasts doing their business.

Harper quietly made his way towards the nearest Outcast, making sure to make each footstep as light as feather to not create any sudden noise. He crept up behind his victim, grabbing him by the mouth and nearly shoving his whole hand in it. This caused the Outcast to let out audible muffled yells, leading Harper to slashing his throat.

The other outcast stood there stunned, watching his blood ooze out of his friends neck. His friend pulled out a gun but before he could even fire it, it was kicked out of his grasp. The outcast was left with no choice but to tackle Harper. He aimed for his neck, wrapping his arms around it as Harper writhed under his grasp. Unfortunately, the man was too strong for Harper so when he slowly started to lose consciousness Harper instead aimed for his eyes. He pushed both thumbs towards the Outcast's eyes, making sure to claw them out. Screaming in pain, the outcast got off of him and kneeled on the floor in pain while clutching his face.

Gaining the upper hand, Harper kicked the man to the side of the room where his friend laid before pushing his knife into the Outcast's skull, making him let out one last scream before going limp.

Harper lets out a sigh of relief, collapsing next to the two dead Outcasts. He decided to use this as a time to regain strength and get his breathing pattern a bit back to normal since he was absolutely out of breath. A groan slips pass his lips when he realized that his short serene moment was interrupted by loud people screaming from behind the door, telling other people to check in on the bathroom. He got up, pulling out his beretta before giving the two dead bodies a quick glance, wondering to himself why he didn't just shoot them instantly and make life easier.