CLANG

Axle Bolted upright and immediately drew his gun. The sun had barely risen above the horizon and there was still dew on his car. It was far too early for anyone to be near his campsite with peaceful intentions. Axle rose from his sitting position and ever so quietly made his way to the edge of the camp where the disturbance originated from. With one hand he lifted up the tarp he had put up and found a can of rotten...food, maybe. It wasn't edible for anything but a- just then a rat as large as his forearm darted out of the can and was running straight at him squealing as if he was possessed, aiming to escape from between his feet. But just as quick, Axle brought his boot up and back down onto the rat's head and neck killing it without so much as a peep.

Cursing under his breath after being frightened more than he would like to admit, Axle grabbed the rodent's tail and brought it back to the little bit of sticks and old garbage that served as fuel for the fire he was going to make. Using just a few drops of gas from a can in the back of his car he primed one of the more flammable items in the pile, and using his own fire starter (a spark plug attached to a hand crank generator from one of those music box things? radios if memory served) and made the gas ignite. He had to make sure the fire went up the first time otherwise he would have to waste more fuel which was scarce in these parts.

While the fire was building he started cleaning the carcass of the rat. It would be some of the best eatin' he would've had in awhile. The wasteland did not offer much for any living thing, but this rat had gorged itself, Easily eight pounds. It must have found the food in the trash pile that remains of his old home. He remembered coming back from his scavenging trip three days ago to find the only safe place he knew destroyed and pillaged by cannibals.

The sun was high in the sky and the air was fresh for a change. His Supercharged speed demon on wheels was running full tilt on the longest stretch of asphalt in the region. He had a smile on his face as he saw the old yellow sign that meant he was nearly home. The elders wouldn't believe what he found this time. Well, it won't be as impressive as his first trip when he had found this car, but still they will be excited.

He had found an old building that had collapsed. He would've passed it up if he didn't see the green sticking through a hole in the side that was once a window. When Axle had crawled through he had found that the building hadn't totally collapsed. Instead of the usual emptiness that filled most buildings, this one still had stuff in it. It was an old gardening shop. All the plants were dead however, and the green he had seen was the paint on the walls. But in the back room was a treasure for sure. SEEDS! Hundreds of them. Most were for flowers but there were at least fifty seed packs of edible plants, so he had packed up as many packs as he could and turned back home, he had cut the trip short.

Axle's excitement faltered however when he saw the smoke rising in the distance, and as he pulled in front of the camp his excitement was replaced with complete and total fear. His home was burning, and the air was filled with screams, Axle was in a dead sprint and cleared the wreckage of the reinforced gate. The scene in the center of the camp stopped Axle's feet and breath. Everyone he had lived with… Everyone he had grown up with… everyone that had yet to grow up

Were in a pile in the center of the camp.

They were all dead except for one little girl that was hanging by her wrists from a post.

The color had drained from Axle's face. The little girl,who he could not recognize, was not just stripped naked as he thought she was. She was Skinned, the blood all over her was her own. The skin on her face was still there but the rest was gone. Yet, she was still screaming. Axle was mortified, he couldn't do anything but stand there, he couldn't even think, he couldn't tell if he had been standing there for a few seconds or a few hours. But he was abruptly brought back to reality when he heard what was said next,

"Here lug try one o' her eyes, filled with jelly they are"

Something in Axle's mind broke, He could not feel anything anymore. His body had gone numb and his thoughts were quelled by an unending avalanche of unrestrained FURY. Never has he felt this feeling before, but when he looked at the band of cannibals, he saw them in shades of red. His only motivation was to kill the killers of his people. He didn't yell, he didn't shout or run. He marched up to the group at a steady pace. Right then one of them, presumably lug, turned around and saw him coming. All he said was "oo' in the 'ell are you?" And with all the strength he could put behind it he launched a hook right into his jaw and continued with-

The fire made a loud pop and brought Axle back to the present. He had finished cleaning the rat and put it on the makeshift grill he assembled yesterday. While his food was cooking, Axle stood up and went over to the dew collector that resided in the back of the car and filled his canteen almost was annoyed that he would have to ration water again because the dew collector couldn't actually collect all that much at a time. He needed a better one. He went to tend to the food and thought back to after the fight.

It was a slaughter, the cannibals were untrained and caught unawares. Even though outnumbered nearly 40 to 1, Axle did have a major advantage over these vermin.

Ever since he could put his fists up, Sergeant Francis Dumont drilled him in as many forms of melee and armed combat as he was able. Francis was An 89 year old veteren who served in both world wars and was a decorated war hero, though he himself didn't fight because of his age and position as elder, he did have some of his younger students spar with Axle whenever there was free time.

As far as guns go, Axle never was properly trained in firearms except for two weapons, Francis' old 1911 from basic training that Axle had been given as a 16th birthday present. And a 37mm anti-tank rifle (The settlement's gunsmith turned an m3 37mm anti-tank gun into a recoil-less rifle that could be fired by one man, in order to transport it he attached little wagon wheels to the barrel and put a handle on the stock. Francis, however, thought the gun useless as there was nothing in the wasteland that warranted a gun like that and the ammunition was near impossible to find, so Axle took it.)

Axle hasn't fired his guns at anyone before, he favored melee combat because he was good at it and you didn't need ammunition for it. Axle was big for being 17, Standing at 6' 4" (193 cm) and weighing 248 lbs (112.5 kg). Francis had declared Axle finished with his melee combat learning the previous year and that the rest of his time had been focused on endurance training.

So when he fought the Cannibals he had made quick work of them. He obtained many bruises and cuts just from the fact that he was being reckless, but he didn't have it as bad as his victims. Every punch he threw broke bone and the cut bolts that were secured onto his knuckles punctured and tore flesh.

As he stood above the bodies and his heart began to slow, Axle started to hear a faint weeping. He looked over and saw the girl crying weakly. He ran over and tried as best he could to remove her from the post without causing her pain. She tried to scream again but he covered her mouth, "Shh Shh, I am a friend, I am not going to hurt you. Can you tell me your name?"

He let go of her mouth and she started to cry again while she just made a croak like sound, it was then that Axle realised they had cut her tongue out. She was now blind and mute and Axle had no idea who she was from how badly those monsters had mutilated her. As he finally got rid of the last restraint he caught her from falling, but as he did she shrieked from the pain. As he stood there holding her he realised that she wasn't going to make it. She was losing too much blood. He set her down as gently as he could and sat there trying to comfort her. He couldn't bring himself to kill her because he didn't know if she realised she was going to die. But before he could do anything else she had stilled and her arms had gone slack.

no

And as his mind started to fall apart, Axle sat wailing to the sky above. His grief was unbearable. He had lost everyone and Everything he cared about. He had stayed there holding the girl's remains long after his muscles had cramped. He finally stood after recovering the need to tend to his body, his face bore no expression as he carried the remains of the girl over and laid her next to everyone else.

He had been permanently changed. life had lost its color. He had been hit with the reality that was the wasteland. He could no longer enjoy the society that the elders from the previous world had built.

He was alone.

As Axle finished his meal he stood and checked to make sure he had secured everything he could salvage from the carcass of his birthplace. He had collected belongings from nearly everyone since the whole group had practically raised him. His mother had died while giving birth to him and the elders didn't know who his father was. After storing the last item, Francis' medals, in a safe manner for travel, Axle climbed into the driver seat of the only thing that could keep him alive now.

A Black as pitch 1969 Dodge Charger R/T. Mounted under the hood a massive 572 cubic inch hemi V8 (9,373 cc) equipped with a 3 barrel supercharger. A front splitter to keep the air out from under the car, widened rear fenders to allow for larger tires and a rear wing to keep the back tires gripped to the road. The car must've been a piece of art when it was first assembled but time and wear had brought it to its most primal state. The chrome dulled by rust and dirt, and the worn, heat scorched paint akin to tar. A devil that could outrun any vehicle that the wasteland's "Blackfingers" could conjure.

Axle turned the ignition and a guttural growl was brought forth, when the throttle was opened a bestial roar highlighted by the supercharger's high pitched whistle was heard. A sound that no living thing could hope to replicate. Axle shifted into the first of the car's five gears that could bring the car to almost 170 Mph (274 Km H) and opened the throttle wide.

As Axle sped down the road he only had one mission. The number of people he killed at the camp were too few to have overwhelmed the massive settlement of nearly 400 people, a third of which were able-bodied warriors trained with old world techniques. The main invasion force was not the cannibals as Axle had first thought. In his salvaging he had found a helm that resembled the head of a Cobra. The armour of the snake people far to the south. Axle's mission was to lay waste to them and their culture. His mission was to utterly annihilate them. So he drove and he drove fast, faster than fast, faster than fear.

After all

He had nothing left to lose.