Chapter 1: Chasing the Storm
Atomic fire reigned across the world. On the day of October 23, 2077, over 200 years ago, nearly everyone and everything got destroyed by this hellfire. It replaced the world that people once knew with the scorched earth that remains today.
Many years had passed. It is now 2307. Few rules have changed in the Wasteland. Many irradiated and mutated beasts, creatures, and people roam this broken world now. The human population had to evolve and adapt to the centuries of the world's forced change.
Humans have simultaneously united and grown separated in this Wasteland. Instead of working together, some grew separate, some grew compassionate. Many grew desperate. No one in this world is pure or innocent. No one.
Bands of Raiders. Groups that form in large numbers to murder, maim, torture, and rape their way to superiority. They only care for themselves. These people are selfish, evil, and sadistic. Survival comes with a profit. These people are most common, all across the Wastes. Their separate groups aren't working together, but they follow the same mannerisms and ways of life. Killing, drugs, and slavery.
Settlers or Wastelanders are the main targets of the Raiders. People that just want to live their life. They farm crops, trade, and build places that wandering souls can call home. These people are the remnants of the pieces of the world that once were. Rebuilding a society.
It was a day like any other. A cloud of very violent dust storms ravaged and raged through these crack concrete streets of this war-blasted town. This once peaceful little suburban section of the world. Multiple homely buildings collapsed, ruined, and lay in nothing more than debris piles. Some walls remain, standing proud even after all this time of disarray and neglect. The barley white shingles give off some semblance of what once was.
A dust storm raged and roared throughout these streets. It blew through the Wasteland with violent tenacity. Nothing slowed its course. It wasn't threatening or dangerous on its own. What comes out to take advantage of the covetous storm is what to watch out for.
Visibility was low; sounds were muffled. The rustling wind drowned out any minor sounds, steps, shuffling, and whispers. Many hostile creatures and people come out to take advantage of all the confusion and chaos.
This allowed for a patrolling group of raiders to take full advantage of the storm. They live in this environment and thrive in the harshness of the Wastes. Navigation for them is as easy as squashing a pesky Radroach. 5 total. They marched their unsuspecting victims through this dusty blizzard.
The two that were captured were a man and a woman. Tied up at the wrists. Bloody sacks blinded them over their heads. Five raiders surrounded them. They moved down the road in unison, two raiders that had shoddy hunting rifles to the back of the captors, another two on each side, and the presumed to be the leader that led in the front. Guiding them all to damnation.
Each of the raiders was vigilant and mindful. All covering a direction and keeping themselves close together. Splitting in such a storm is an easy way to get lost, even for a Wasteland-hardened raider. With such limitations on sight, it is easy to grow a little paranoid.
A rustle in a bush here, a few hounds that howled in the distance. Despite the broad daylight, the dust shrouded the world in darkness as far as the eye could see. It was all thick and blinding.
Despite the lack of visibility, a pair of eyes watched from a not-so-far-off cliff. They observed the roving raiders handle their captors with the utmost disrespect. Shoving and pushing them. It was desperate and quick. The raiders wanted out of the storm. Blaming them would be slaves for their lack of speed.
Most of the raiders wore what one would expect from this kind of individual. Less than appealing stitched-up leathers and cloth. With a mixture of tires, bombshells, and street signs. Especially the lone woman raider. She was in tiny, cut-apart shorts. Her breasts were solely covered by a loose strap that held together the dome of 2 mini-nukes, respectively. Her skin was all covered in an extreme amount of rashes, cuts, and punctures. She left little to the imagination of what her purpose was to the other 4 raiders. Her gun had plenty of misplaced springs and an uneven barrel. And despite the pouch on her hip. It was empty. Her hair was shortly cut, with a scarred head. She was forcibly cut.
The other 3 raiders were unremarkable. The typical trash of the Wasteland. Filthy, miserable, and barely recognizable as human anymore. Their leader, however, was extravagant. If, "Please, shoot me in the face!" could be personified; it was him.
He was adorned with a welded helmet, a sign on each side. Stop and yield. Down, his armor is covered in various uneven metal strips, plates, and attachments of varying color and thickness. Each of his shoulders was covered by a human skull. Each was fresh, bloody, and open-jawed. They made for some disgusting shoulder pads. This abomination twirled an overly used baseball bat. It was covered in gunk, splintered, and nearly falling apart. The only discernible feature was the saw blade, which dangled loosely in the middle of it.
"We should collar them, boss! In case they want to run!" One raider said enthusiastically to their demented leader.
He only objected. "Did you hear the way they were both crying when we surrounded them? Na, it's not needed." He turned around, walking backward, and practiced his swing in their direction. "I am not worried. They move out of line, they die."
"We won't get caps then…" scoffed the lone female raider.
"Yeah! Slavers don't have many uses for a corpse. Well, most don't!"
"What the hell does that mean?"
"What? You never put a head on a spike; hang a body up to intimidate?"
"Quiet, all of you!" the leader spoke in a foul, vile tone, "We will go back to the school, get some more numbers. March them to Paradise Falls, get paid. And then we can all blow our minds on chems. Sounds good?"
None of the raiders could answer the question. They all simultaneously stopped in their tracks. As if their drug-induced instincts kicked in. Something wasn't right…
The couple in the middle kept themselves quiet, only leaning against each other to confirm they were still together.
They couldn't quite tell what it was. Something was circling them in the dust storm. It was big, menacing, and was leading them all in multiple directions. It disoriented their excuse for formality. All the raiders lost track of direction. Panic ensued.
The woman was the first to lose her composer. Blasting a random shot into the storm, it was hip-fired, not aimed in, and inaccurate. Her bolt action nearly uploaded in on itself from the shot.
The leader jumped at the shot and turned around, grabbing at her gun in an excessive rage. "Why the FUCK would you shoot at nothing!? We lost our elem-"
The sound of multiple steps on the road shut his outburst down. An ever closer howl. It was right in front of them. A pack of ravenous dogs had them surrounded!
They all aimed their guns in multiple seemingly random directions. They were getting circled by the beasts. Unable to tell how many there were, what their odds are. Unfortunately, for the raider band. The dogs didn't wait to attack.
It took less than a few seconds for the first dog to pounce on the furthest one from the group. It barely looked like a dog. More like an… unworldly beast. Its red, torn-up flesh is entirely covered in disgusting, pulsating, irradiated boils. He snarled and spat like a monster out of a nightmare. In a jumping bite; out of the storm. The creature locked its jaw right into the neck of the unsuspecting raider. They dragged him to the ground from the force of the pounce. With a single snap, his neck got instantly broken, bleeding profusely, and was now just another corpse in the Wasteland.
The remaining raiders saw this all play out. They all hesitated before breaking into a full panic. Not the leader, though. He only looked on in disgust. Not for the death, no. His comrade died without contributing more. The remaining group split, all in separate directions. They left their slaves to fend for themselves and only cared about saving themselves.
The two heard the shuffling of steps and took the cue. They, unfortunately, ran off in completely separate directions. The dogs seemed to ignore them, at least.
The leader approached the corpse of the first victim. He was currently being gorged on, right on his face. The beast wasted no time devouring it like a feral, wild animal. Tearing into the wide-eyed flesh of his former friend. He gripped his bat and didn't hesitate, winding up a big swing. He cracked it right on the dome of the dog, again and again, and again. It only yelped once. It was long dead by the second hit. He got more and more severe with his hits. Splattering the creature's brains, blood, and skull chunks all over himself, the road, and his fallen friend. His metal plating ended partially splattered in crimson.
The leader was so distracted by bashing the dog's cranium in; that he never even noticed the other members of his clan getting killed off. Viciously torn at the legs, throat, and arms. Multiple dog packs took advantage of this confusion.
This only made the leader mad. He charged the pack that feasted on the corpses of his fallen raiders. They outnumbered him 7 to 1. And two more of his team lay a partially dismembered, bloody mess on the side of the road. A couple of dogs didn't even give his scream of rage enough attention. They just continued to consume chunks of his two fallen friends in front of him. The leader, however. Made easy work of the few dogs that charged at him. Evading the one that went for his neck. Bashing it right against the jaw with the saw blade of his bat, splitting it in half. He kicked another down, stomping the life out of it in an instant!
He went like a madman, swinging and battering the entire pack. One after another suffered fatal, blunt force. It was mainly downward swings and lacerations from the attached saw blade. There was one final beast. It was bleeding, trying to retreat. Limping away. The leader only smiled at the pathetic creature. Stomping its hind legs, breaking them from the force of his boots. He didn't stop there. He jammed the saw blade portion of his bat into the stomach of the whimpering, dying dog. He gouged the dog from the inside out. Spilling its guts and intestines all over the filthy, bloodied dirt. It was already dead. That didn't stop him.
He was enjoying the sadistic torture of the dog's corpse. If it can even be called that anymore…
A sound of… clapping interrupted his torture session!?
He turned around and gazed into the raging storm, seeing nothing. He quickly got up, pointed his bat in the sound's direction, and shouted. "Whoever is fucking with me… I'll gut you like these dogs!"
His threat was met with a short silence; not for long, though. "Tsk, tsk. You know, you shouldn't go threatening strangers like that, Raider. Might make a mistake," the unseen voice said. Like he was in all directions and none at the same time.
"Where are you? Show yourself, coward!"
The voice only calmly said, "I don't think you want that. After surviving such an encounter with these beasts. Well, don't you want to walk out of this alive? Enough mangling of corpses?"
"So, you are a coward?" He said, getting his flesh-chunk-covered bat ready.
"If it means leaving you at the mercy of the Wasteland? Yes."
The leader only stomped in rage. His boot squashed a fleshy chunk of one dog. Maybe this stranger had a point?
They went their separate ways. The stranger made his way further into the storm. His intention was fully unknown; even to himself. But he had an idea. The two potential slaves seem to have gotten away. He was going to find them.
This stranger, this figure, was moving rather swiftly in the storm. He wore a long, seemingly bulky robe. It covered all features he would or wouldn't have. From his head all the way to his toes. Mysterious and unrevealing.
He slowed himself down. Remembered himself to be cautious. It seems the remaining dogs have dispersed. The road was clear of any bodies, but not blood. A rather long trail of blood. It smeared along the road. Continued, leading to one of the still partially together houses. It rested, alone and barren. The door, broken, still open.
He peeked in, finally, some kind of shelter from the storm. Ducking his way in fully. It was dark, drab, and unwelcoming. Pre-war nicknacks scattered the floor, broken and battered. Glass, ceramic, and shards of plastic covered the floor. Tiny beams of sunlight showed through the neglect, through the dust storm. He was in a small kitchen. The drawers, fridge, and any sort of cupboard were already long from being picked clean. They were still open haphazardly and will remain that way, forever.
He heard a shuffling in the room past the kitchen. It wasn't a dog… He leaned himself over from the middle of the room and picked up the rustiest chair in existence. Leaning it over the doorway, it confirmed his suspicion.
He wasn't surprised that the chair was shot. It took a few seconds longer than he was expecting, however. "You know if you were trying to kill someone. You are going to have to be quicker than that," he teased.
"It scared the shit out of me!" the woman on the other side screeched in pain.
He just dropped the chair. It broke apart upon hitting the ground. He had to dodge a piece of the leg that broke and flew in his direction. "Hmm, how about you put your gun down?"
"Why would I do that?!" she spouted back.
"I wasn't asking! I'm telling you. Put it down."
She kept her aim firmly at the doorway. "How do I know you won't just shoot me?"
"Well, you are just going to have to trust me, aren't you? Let's be honest, you are dead anyway. Put it down, or don't. It just depends on how you want to die."
"The fuck does that mean!?" her voice wavered.
He only signed. "You're injured. I am your only hope, no? You keep that gun up. I'll just kill you outright. Put it down. Maybe we can help each other?"
She grumbled but gave in. "Fine, I'm pretty fucked, anyway. I'll fucking throw it the fuck down!"
She audibly tossed her rifle far enough away to where she couldn't reach it easily but was still close enough to make a desperate attempt.
He loomed over the doorway, checked where it was, and said, "Good enough." Entering the room with her, ducking once again under the doorway.
He scanned her scantily clad form and assessed. "Your leg, it's going to get infected."
She looked down at the gash in her still excessively bleeding leg. Muscle showed it was deep and vicious. "Yeah, no shit. That damn dog got me good. From behind, fucker!"
He just asked. "Where did the couple you were going to make slaves end up?"
She only shrugged her shoulders, wincing at the action before retiring to holding her leg. "Fuck if I know! They scattered the moment they could. Bastards."
She tried to get up. But the faded, checkered couch that she laid on would not let her. The stranger only shook his head at her. "You are in no condition to get anywhere like that. How about you tell me where you were taking them? It was close, was it not?"
She only glared at him. "Why the hell would I do that?"
He pointed from under his robe, right at her wound. "You are going to bleed out with no help. I don't have any quarrel leaving a scum raider to die. You sealed your fate the moment you became the monster you are now." He paused inching himself closer. "However, I am not a monster. Like you. I will still help you. Just tell me where those 2 might go. That's all I want."
She practically spit at him. "Yeah, I'll tell you that. And then what? Are you going to save them all on your own? The dogs probably got them, hero."
He only shook his head at her, pulling out a rather clean, fresh bandage. "No, they got away. Your leader was dealing with the dogs. He's still alive, you know."
She nearly jumped up seeing the bandage. "Jeff? Jeff can fuck himself sideways. He only cared for profit; not about us."
"You're telling me you don't care only about profit, too? Being a raider?"
She didn't answer, only eying the bandage. "How about we… do something else? How about I tell you about a secret stash? Chems, weapons, caps?"
He scoffed. "You're joking, right? I would sooner kill you than ever consider that! You tell me where the couple was getting taken, or die. No other option."
She seemed madder at this, not that he just threatened to kill her. "You are such a fucker! We would have taken them to Springvale Elementary! Jeff is probably on his way back there if he isn't back already! There. I told you, bandage, now!" she demanded.
He only held it above her head. "Not yet! You didn't tell me where!"
"Bandage, first!"
"No, no. Tell me where. I can still let you die."
She screamed back at him. "It is just down the road!" pointed out one of the broken windows, still in the direction of the dust storm.
He glared at her. Consider just walking away for a moment. Ultimately, he tossed it to her. "There, now we are done. If you are lying to me, remember. You won't be able to get out of here. I'll come back for you, and you will die."
He stopped and had an idea. "On second thought, how about this?" he pulled out a syringe of Med-X from underneath his robe, balancing it on a finger. "How about a little game? You find it within yourself, earn your life back. And you can have it."
She was doing her best to clean the wound and bandage it, seeing the Med-X. "Wh-what do you mean?"
He didn't look at her, only throwing the Med-X out the window. "If you want it? Earn it. Earn your life. That Med-X will block enough pain for you to get to a better spot. But you must suffer. For all those you made suffer."
"Yo-you are such a bastard! You can't just let me have it?"
He only turned around, shaking his head. "No, no. You don't even deserve this. But maybe it will show you your ways. Maybe you will die trying? If you do, or don't. It doesn't affect me. Don't let me see you again. And I will come back here for my Med-X, assuming you didn't get it."
He didn't stay around long enough to hear her spouting nonsense. It was quickly drowned out by the sound of the raging storm that engulfed him.
His hope was both of the potential slaves would still be alive. He wasted enough time on that hopeless raider. He turned his direction to the school. He couldn't see it, not even in the distance. She was probably lying, but what else could he do?
End Chapter: 1