The story's almost finished! Expect cameos from 'the Beast'. I've been busy
for some time, and the connection's not going to be replaced until the end
of Oct. Sorry for the late update eitherway!
.........................................................................................................
Sig hoisted the heavy bag over his shoulders and simply strode away into a small vehicle nearby. He did not wait for his fellow Wastelanders, knowing that they'll soon use their own buggy to get back to Krew's place. They won;'t really fit into his buggy anyway; he took up most of the place.
Sig is now 29, a sturdy young man with nerves of steel and a heart that knows no fear. His Metalhead hunting skills were legendary, and even though retold a thousand times over people still gawped and gasped in disbelief just hearing it. He was so good at his job that in no time Krew promoted him as his bodyguard. Everybody wasn;t too happy about this; partly because Sig's great and broad built made even the toughest of Haven City crooks look like petty pickpockets next to him.
But perhaps the most well-known thing about him was his deep hatred for Metalheads.
Sig was vicious when it came to hunting Metalheads. Fearless, fierce and ruthless as a Wastelander, Sig actually built his armour intirely out of Metalhead armour metal, and half the walls of the Hip Hog Saloon were decorated by the Metalheads Sig single-handedly caught. He'd become an instant celebrity; and this helped Krew get more customers.
Sig sighed; it had been so long. So long since he'd thought about his home, the Metamorphagan city. Deep inside he missed his real home, Proteus, Fenris...his mother. Sometimes he wished he were back in his own room with Poopsie by his side and sleeping by the warm light of his Quartzite collection. But he had never thought of going back. He knew he didn't have what it takes to bear the shame, anger and regret of it all anymore.
It took him three straight hours to get back to Haven City. He hated passing through the Security Walls- on being part Metalhead inside, it sort of hurt whenever he passed the gates- a sort of pain you feel when you're being electrified. But he had gotten used to it. Haven City was not that short in the supply of Dark Eco, which he needed to survive – but it was never that abundant or fresh like his home. Eitherway, he had grown used to the harshness of the city life and adapted very well.
He arrived at the doors of the Hip Hog saloon and noticed that most of Krew's customers had already gone, save for a lone figure sitting at the bar counter. From that familiar tight yellow, red and blue racing suit, Sig recognized it to be Erol.
Sig: Still here?
Erol: Oh you...sorry, didn't see you come in. Fruitful massacre?
Sig: Yeah.
He put the huge blood stained bag onto the bar counter and Erol recoiled back with disgust.
Erol: Ergh! Revolting! How can you stand the smell of that dead beast?
Sig: Years of adapting, I guess.
Erol: Well, don't get it near me. This shirt is not dry-clean.
Suddenly their conversation was interupted by Krew, whom had lumbered towards them looking big and sweaty. He even huffed when he made a single step.
Krew: Ahhhhhh.....Siggy.....nice one, nice one. Big Red, yes?
Sig: Full grown male. Took it out with the pulse rifle.
Krew: Excellent! Excellent! Where's Baz and the others?
Sig: Oh they'll be back. Soon.
Krew: Good....good...Turns to Erol Ahhh...Erol....good job at the race today. You were-let's say-wild and crazy on the track.
Erol: As always. Those idiots didn't stand a chance. They crashed- and I helped them at it.
Sig: You vampire.
Erol: Why does everyone call me that? Quit it or I turn into one or something....
Sig: (Teasingly) With that ruthless bloodthirtsy attitude of yours, yeah, you might.
Erol: Shut up.
Krew: Sig...I've got a little commision for you...you know, big dangerous stuff. I'm sure you're up for it.
Sig: Let me guess...get me some more of them Precursor Orbs near the Nest and try to nab some of them bigger nasties while I'm at it, right?
Krew: Don't get so far-fetched, or I'll send you INTO the Nest to nab the Leader's head myself.
Sig: (Drawling confidently) Oh that Leader's head is gonna hang on these walls one day, mark my words.
Krew: Well before that happens...I want you to find THIS.
Krew thrushed a piece of paper into Sig's hands. It turned out to be a yellowing page from a book, and by the dusty smell and moth-eaten state of it it must've been a very old book. It had a drawing on it, and Sig couldn't really make it out because it was so unclear. He could see however it was a sort of creature that looked like a Metalhead, only larger and more vicious looking. Sig frowned. It looked familiar.
Erol: Snatches the page from Sig's hands and asks Krew You didn't steal this from the Krimzon library, did you?
Krew: (Sarcastically) You Krimzons read?
Sig: Snatches the page back Give me that. Stares at page and tries to read the incomprehensible writing on it Hmmm....Hee—ee—raa—hee---ra....
Krew: Hura-Lycan! Yes! That's the word!
Sig almost dropped the paper in his shock and bewilderment. The same wave of sickness crested over him once more, and his stomach lurched.
Sig: H—h-h-hura-Lycan?
Krew: Believed to be the most dangerous of all Metalheads. They even rebel against their Metalhead leader! And that has to prove them extremely lethal....and valuably rare. Think of all those customers streaming in just to see its stupid head hung on the wall! All that glorious money...and it'll make you one hell of a celebrity, Siggy.
Erol: Scowls slightly, for he hated it when other people are being praised
Sig: I-I-I'm not sure-
Krew: Oh don't worry about the weapons...that is if you ever need em, eh Siggy? Heheh! Besides, a new shipment of arsenal's just arrived today. And I reserved the very best for you.
Krew handed Sig a strange looking device about the size of a man;s palm. From the looks of it, it was meant to be connected to the front end of a gun...a big gun at that. Sig curiously stared at it, wondering why Krew had passionately called it 'the very best.'
Sig: Err...thanks, sir—what is it?
Krew: I'm not sure myself. They simply called it Piece X. But that doesn't matter; attach it to your Gunblazer and see what happens.
Sig eagerly put the device onto his Gunblazer (It's that neat gun Sig has in the game, only without the Peacemaker thinggy on it) and went outside to give it a try. Erol curiously followed him, and so did Krew (who had to struggle like heck to get through the front door).
Sig pressed the trigger and held it down, like he usually did to release rapid fire. But instead of the usual hail of Red Eco bullets, the gun began to virbrate in Sig's hands, startling him. A large ball of bright electric bolts appeared at the front end of the Gunblazer, getting bigger and bigger as Sig pressed down longer. Finally the vibrating got too strong and Sig quickly released the trigger.
The ball of electric shot into the air, as swift as an arrow from a bow. Sparks flew at its wake, and as it travelled through the air it came in contact with a wary Krimzon Patrol-Zoomer. The zoomer exploded upon contact after a brief but painful looking electrocution. The unfortunate Krimzon riding it however, dropped into the water like a paralyzed falcon before he could call an alert.
Erol: Hey, that was one of my patrol-men!
Krew: Who cares! The gun worked! And Sig handled like he was born for it! Great job, boy!
Erol: Still that's casual harm!
Krew: Ah, Sig didn't even put the trigger to maximum, so I guess he'd be okay. Just hope he can swim though. Heheh...
Erol: Looking disapproved, for he was a good commander at heart I'm going to call for back-up. You points threateningly at Sig better stop shotting or I'll be forced to bring you behind bars.
Sig didn't reply, he was still shaking from the impact of the vibrating Gunblazer. The force was so strong he was almost thrown back by it. He knew that no Metalhead, not even a powerful Hura-Lycan could stand against that sharp shock. He shook his head, smiling to himself, and gazed admiringly at the gun in his hands.
Sig: How peaceful you make it around here after that shock. Really quiet of all the sudden. And that's what I'll call you now...Peacemaker.
The word lingered on his tongue. He had named it Peacemaker not because of how quiet it made his surroundings after a sharp shot- he named it because it reminded him of what he truly was inside. He was not a Metafor-never had been one, never will be one. He was a Peacemaker. And he planned to stay that way.
But that warm notion suddenly vanished when he remembered what the Peacemaker was really for. He was supposed to hunt down a Hura-Lycan— his own kin, flesh and blood. It scared him deep inside if the Metamorphagans found out that it was he whom had murdered one of their number. And if that wasn;t bad enough, the Hura-Lycan he killed could be someone he knew...Fenris, Proteus—his mothe-
He didn't want to finish the thought.
Sig sighed deeply. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't even sure if he wanted the job. On the contrary-he didn't. He was a hunter yes, but never a murderer. He'll have to think about something quick. It was quite hard for him. He didn't think he could take it if he found out he had put Proteus' head on the wall.....
THE NEXT DAY....
The green sun was high in the sky, the wind was in a good mood and for some sickly cheerful reason, the sky was a bright and clear blue. It was the ideal time for Metalhead hunting.
Only Sig was the one unhappy about it.
Sig just wished that it would rain or something; just to cancel the hunt for today. Krew and the others weren't helping; at breakfast at the Hip Hog they rambled on and on about what they were gonna do with all that money once the customers line up to see a Hura-Lycan head. Baz didn't take it seriously; he was relaxed because he knew Sig would take care of everything, anyway. Sig just wished Krew didn't look up to him so much. His fat boss didn't waste a breath boasting to all his early morning customers about Sig's skills and his next legendary quarry. Erol was there, and he didn't look too happy about it. He was the usual pub celebrity, and he hated it whenever someone else was being paid more attention than he was. Probably that was why he didn't wish Sig good luck when they left for the hunt....
Sig was sick to the bone. He had attempted to get himself sick by drinking as much as he could muster, but Krew didn't allow him to drink more than three glasses. He seemed quite keen on getting that head. This added even more nausea to Sig's day.
Finally, on reaching the Wastelands:
Baz: Well, here we are guys! Krew told us not to come back until we get that head! Not that that's a problem –since we got big Sig on our side.
Sig: Err...right.
Baz: (Eagerly loads his Pulse Rifle) Ok, then! Let's get moving!
The hunt started out well enough, but as the afternoon came upon them the day became unbearably hot. They spend seven fruitless hours searching for their elusive quarry, and moods were getting nasty. Morale was low among the team; but Sig was relieved about it. Perhaps they'll never find a Hura- Lycan and...and maybe Krew will change his mind about everything. Sig can only pray for a miracle.
Finally night decended upon the exhausted Wastelanders, and they set camp under the stars. After a bit of drinking and eating, moods were lifted and most of them got drunk. They sang a few songs and told a few jokes. Sig was satisfied that their hunt was unsuccessful today, but he was all happy either. There was always tomorrow.
Sig: (Getting up and putting down his beer-glass) Err...I'm gonna call it a night, guys.
Baz: What? Already?
Sig: (Fiddling with the Moonsapphire necklace and casting a worried eye to the Moon) I'm really tired.
Jest: Hey, Sig...just wondering you know, why do you always wear that funny blue necklace anyway?
Sig wanted to answer, but he could really find the words. His muscles suddenly sized up inside him, and his skin began to tingle. The moonlight shone down upon him; almost too evilly bright for his liking. He shook his head and closed his eyes tightly.
Sig: It's....it's....a gift from my mom.
Jest: Aww....
Baz: You were a mommy's boy? Hah! That's a joke!
The rest laughed stupidly and Sig went off into his tent without replying. He sat down under the refuge of his canvas roof and put his hands to his face. He was shaking, and not from the chilly night wind. It's been so long since he walked under moonlight – so long he had almost lost control of the Moonsapphire's powers. He knew he could still turn into a full-edge Hura- Lycan, and it'd be too dangerous to accidentally turn into one tonight.
He wanted to sleep, but the shaking in his limbs prevented him from getting comfortable. Eitherway, he soon fell into an uneasy slumber, disturbed only by the chilly wind that occasionally nibbled his skin.
Sig was asleep for only fifteen minutes when he suddenly heard muffled noises outside his tent. Startled and slightly drowsy, he slowly got up and tried to focus his vision. It was still dark, and the campfire had been extinguished. Still there were noises, loud ones infact, and to make matters worse, they sound awfully like gunshots....
Sig bolted upright and ran out of his tent, forgetting to grab his Peacemaker. He realized that all the other tents were empty; the other Wastelanders were gone. The sounds were louder outside and Sig could hear them more clearly. He heard gunshots all right- along with some shouts, undoubtably from an excited Baz. But that wasn't all- Sig swore he heard a furious snarl from some large, vicious creature....
Sig: Oh no.....
Sig ran off in the direction of the noise and soon enough stubbled upon a scene which froze his veins stone-cold. Baz and the Wastelanders had a large Metalhead cornered against a small hill, and they had their large guns pointed at its thick throat. There was already a Pulse Rifle spear through its right hand, and was bleeding heavily.
Sig's worst fears had caught up with him at last. It was a Hura-Lycan.
.......................................................................................................
Next chap coming soon....
.........................................................................................................
Sig hoisted the heavy bag over his shoulders and simply strode away into a small vehicle nearby. He did not wait for his fellow Wastelanders, knowing that they'll soon use their own buggy to get back to Krew's place. They won;'t really fit into his buggy anyway; he took up most of the place.
Sig is now 29, a sturdy young man with nerves of steel and a heart that knows no fear. His Metalhead hunting skills were legendary, and even though retold a thousand times over people still gawped and gasped in disbelief just hearing it. He was so good at his job that in no time Krew promoted him as his bodyguard. Everybody wasn;t too happy about this; partly because Sig's great and broad built made even the toughest of Haven City crooks look like petty pickpockets next to him.
But perhaps the most well-known thing about him was his deep hatred for Metalheads.
Sig was vicious when it came to hunting Metalheads. Fearless, fierce and ruthless as a Wastelander, Sig actually built his armour intirely out of Metalhead armour metal, and half the walls of the Hip Hog Saloon were decorated by the Metalheads Sig single-handedly caught. He'd become an instant celebrity; and this helped Krew get more customers.
Sig sighed; it had been so long. So long since he'd thought about his home, the Metamorphagan city. Deep inside he missed his real home, Proteus, Fenris...his mother. Sometimes he wished he were back in his own room with Poopsie by his side and sleeping by the warm light of his Quartzite collection. But he had never thought of going back. He knew he didn't have what it takes to bear the shame, anger and regret of it all anymore.
It took him three straight hours to get back to Haven City. He hated passing through the Security Walls- on being part Metalhead inside, it sort of hurt whenever he passed the gates- a sort of pain you feel when you're being electrified. But he had gotten used to it. Haven City was not that short in the supply of Dark Eco, which he needed to survive – but it was never that abundant or fresh like his home. Eitherway, he had grown used to the harshness of the city life and adapted very well.
He arrived at the doors of the Hip Hog saloon and noticed that most of Krew's customers had already gone, save for a lone figure sitting at the bar counter. From that familiar tight yellow, red and blue racing suit, Sig recognized it to be Erol.
Sig: Still here?
Erol: Oh you...sorry, didn't see you come in. Fruitful massacre?
Sig: Yeah.
He put the huge blood stained bag onto the bar counter and Erol recoiled back with disgust.
Erol: Ergh! Revolting! How can you stand the smell of that dead beast?
Sig: Years of adapting, I guess.
Erol: Well, don't get it near me. This shirt is not dry-clean.
Suddenly their conversation was interupted by Krew, whom had lumbered towards them looking big and sweaty. He even huffed when he made a single step.
Krew: Ahhhhhh.....Siggy.....nice one, nice one. Big Red, yes?
Sig: Full grown male. Took it out with the pulse rifle.
Krew: Excellent! Excellent! Where's Baz and the others?
Sig: Oh they'll be back. Soon.
Krew: Good....good...Turns to Erol Ahhh...Erol....good job at the race today. You were-let's say-wild and crazy on the track.
Erol: As always. Those idiots didn't stand a chance. They crashed- and I helped them at it.
Sig: You vampire.
Erol: Why does everyone call me that? Quit it or I turn into one or something....
Sig: (Teasingly) With that ruthless bloodthirtsy attitude of yours, yeah, you might.
Erol: Shut up.
Krew: Sig...I've got a little commision for you...you know, big dangerous stuff. I'm sure you're up for it.
Sig: Let me guess...get me some more of them Precursor Orbs near the Nest and try to nab some of them bigger nasties while I'm at it, right?
Krew: Don't get so far-fetched, or I'll send you INTO the Nest to nab the Leader's head myself.
Sig: (Drawling confidently) Oh that Leader's head is gonna hang on these walls one day, mark my words.
Krew: Well before that happens...I want you to find THIS.
Krew thrushed a piece of paper into Sig's hands. It turned out to be a yellowing page from a book, and by the dusty smell and moth-eaten state of it it must've been a very old book. It had a drawing on it, and Sig couldn't really make it out because it was so unclear. He could see however it was a sort of creature that looked like a Metalhead, only larger and more vicious looking. Sig frowned. It looked familiar.
Erol: Snatches the page from Sig's hands and asks Krew You didn't steal this from the Krimzon library, did you?
Krew: (Sarcastically) You Krimzons read?
Sig: Snatches the page back Give me that. Stares at page and tries to read the incomprehensible writing on it Hmmm....Hee—ee—raa—hee---ra....
Krew: Hura-Lycan! Yes! That's the word!
Sig almost dropped the paper in his shock and bewilderment. The same wave of sickness crested over him once more, and his stomach lurched.
Sig: H—h-h-hura-Lycan?
Krew: Believed to be the most dangerous of all Metalheads. They even rebel against their Metalhead leader! And that has to prove them extremely lethal....and valuably rare. Think of all those customers streaming in just to see its stupid head hung on the wall! All that glorious money...and it'll make you one hell of a celebrity, Siggy.
Erol: Scowls slightly, for he hated it when other people are being praised
Sig: I-I-I'm not sure-
Krew: Oh don't worry about the weapons...that is if you ever need em, eh Siggy? Heheh! Besides, a new shipment of arsenal's just arrived today. And I reserved the very best for you.
Krew handed Sig a strange looking device about the size of a man;s palm. From the looks of it, it was meant to be connected to the front end of a gun...a big gun at that. Sig curiously stared at it, wondering why Krew had passionately called it 'the very best.'
Sig: Err...thanks, sir—what is it?
Krew: I'm not sure myself. They simply called it Piece X. But that doesn't matter; attach it to your Gunblazer and see what happens.
Sig eagerly put the device onto his Gunblazer (It's that neat gun Sig has in the game, only without the Peacemaker thinggy on it) and went outside to give it a try. Erol curiously followed him, and so did Krew (who had to struggle like heck to get through the front door).
Sig pressed the trigger and held it down, like he usually did to release rapid fire. But instead of the usual hail of Red Eco bullets, the gun began to virbrate in Sig's hands, startling him. A large ball of bright electric bolts appeared at the front end of the Gunblazer, getting bigger and bigger as Sig pressed down longer. Finally the vibrating got too strong and Sig quickly released the trigger.
The ball of electric shot into the air, as swift as an arrow from a bow. Sparks flew at its wake, and as it travelled through the air it came in contact with a wary Krimzon Patrol-Zoomer. The zoomer exploded upon contact after a brief but painful looking electrocution. The unfortunate Krimzon riding it however, dropped into the water like a paralyzed falcon before he could call an alert.
Erol: Hey, that was one of my patrol-men!
Krew: Who cares! The gun worked! And Sig handled like he was born for it! Great job, boy!
Erol: Still that's casual harm!
Krew: Ah, Sig didn't even put the trigger to maximum, so I guess he'd be okay. Just hope he can swim though. Heheh...
Erol: Looking disapproved, for he was a good commander at heart I'm going to call for back-up. You points threateningly at Sig better stop shotting or I'll be forced to bring you behind bars.
Sig didn't reply, he was still shaking from the impact of the vibrating Gunblazer. The force was so strong he was almost thrown back by it. He knew that no Metalhead, not even a powerful Hura-Lycan could stand against that sharp shock. He shook his head, smiling to himself, and gazed admiringly at the gun in his hands.
Sig: How peaceful you make it around here after that shock. Really quiet of all the sudden. And that's what I'll call you now...Peacemaker.
The word lingered on his tongue. He had named it Peacemaker not because of how quiet it made his surroundings after a sharp shot- he named it because it reminded him of what he truly was inside. He was not a Metafor-never had been one, never will be one. He was a Peacemaker. And he planned to stay that way.
But that warm notion suddenly vanished when he remembered what the Peacemaker was really for. He was supposed to hunt down a Hura-Lycan— his own kin, flesh and blood. It scared him deep inside if the Metamorphagans found out that it was he whom had murdered one of their number. And if that wasn;t bad enough, the Hura-Lycan he killed could be someone he knew...Fenris, Proteus—his mothe-
He didn't want to finish the thought.
Sig sighed deeply. He didn't know what to do. He wasn't even sure if he wanted the job. On the contrary-he didn't. He was a hunter yes, but never a murderer. He'll have to think about something quick. It was quite hard for him. He didn't think he could take it if he found out he had put Proteus' head on the wall.....
THE NEXT DAY....
The green sun was high in the sky, the wind was in a good mood and for some sickly cheerful reason, the sky was a bright and clear blue. It was the ideal time for Metalhead hunting.
Only Sig was the one unhappy about it.
Sig just wished that it would rain or something; just to cancel the hunt for today. Krew and the others weren't helping; at breakfast at the Hip Hog they rambled on and on about what they were gonna do with all that money once the customers line up to see a Hura-Lycan head. Baz didn't take it seriously; he was relaxed because he knew Sig would take care of everything, anyway. Sig just wished Krew didn't look up to him so much. His fat boss didn't waste a breath boasting to all his early morning customers about Sig's skills and his next legendary quarry. Erol was there, and he didn't look too happy about it. He was the usual pub celebrity, and he hated it whenever someone else was being paid more attention than he was. Probably that was why he didn't wish Sig good luck when they left for the hunt....
Sig was sick to the bone. He had attempted to get himself sick by drinking as much as he could muster, but Krew didn't allow him to drink more than three glasses. He seemed quite keen on getting that head. This added even more nausea to Sig's day.
Finally, on reaching the Wastelands:
Baz: Well, here we are guys! Krew told us not to come back until we get that head! Not that that's a problem –since we got big Sig on our side.
Sig: Err...right.
Baz: (Eagerly loads his Pulse Rifle) Ok, then! Let's get moving!
The hunt started out well enough, but as the afternoon came upon them the day became unbearably hot. They spend seven fruitless hours searching for their elusive quarry, and moods were getting nasty. Morale was low among the team; but Sig was relieved about it. Perhaps they'll never find a Hura- Lycan and...and maybe Krew will change his mind about everything. Sig can only pray for a miracle.
Finally night decended upon the exhausted Wastelanders, and they set camp under the stars. After a bit of drinking and eating, moods were lifted and most of them got drunk. They sang a few songs and told a few jokes. Sig was satisfied that their hunt was unsuccessful today, but he was all happy either. There was always tomorrow.
Sig: (Getting up and putting down his beer-glass) Err...I'm gonna call it a night, guys.
Baz: What? Already?
Sig: (Fiddling with the Moonsapphire necklace and casting a worried eye to the Moon) I'm really tired.
Jest: Hey, Sig...just wondering you know, why do you always wear that funny blue necklace anyway?
Sig wanted to answer, but he could really find the words. His muscles suddenly sized up inside him, and his skin began to tingle. The moonlight shone down upon him; almost too evilly bright for his liking. He shook his head and closed his eyes tightly.
Sig: It's....it's....a gift from my mom.
Jest: Aww....
Baz: You were a mommy's boy? Hah! That's a joke!
The rest laughed stupidly and Sig went off into his tent without replying. He sat down under the refuge of his canvas roof and put his hands to his face. He was shaking, and not from the chilly night wind. It's been so long since he walked under moonlight – so long he had almost lost control of the Moonsapphire's powers. He knew he could still turn into a full-edge Hura- Lycan, and it'd be too dangerous to accidentally turn into one tonight.
He wanted to sleep, but the shaking in his limbs prevented him from getting comfortable. Eitherway, he soon fell into an uneasy slumber, disturbed only by the chilly wind that occasionally nibbled his skin.
Sig was asleep for only fifteen minutes when he suddenly heard muffled noises outside his tent. Startled and slightly drowsy, he slowly got up and tried to focus his vision. It was still dark, and the campfire had been extinguished. Still there were noises, loud ones infact, and to make matters worse, they sound awfully like gunshots....
Sig bolted upright and ran out of his tent, forgetting to grab his Peacemaker. He realized that all the other tents were empty; the other Wastelanders were gone. The sounds were louder outside and Sig could hear them more clearly. He heard gunshots all right- along with some shouts, undoubtably from an excited Baz. But that wasn't all- Sig swore he heard a furious snarl from some large, vicious creature....
Sig: Oh no.....
Sig ran off in the direction of the noise and soon enough stubbled upon a scene which froze his veins stone-cold. Baz and the Wastelanders had a large Metalhead cornered against a small hill, and they had their large guns pointed at its thick throat. There was already a Pulse Rifle spear through its right hand, and was bleeding heavily.
Sig's worst fears had caught up with him at last. It was a Hura-Lycan.
.......................................................................................................
Next chap coming soon....