Ather City (Main Game) page 4 (locked)

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This is what I get for showing mercy… I think as I’m staring down the barrel of my own pistol. Seems like the woman didn’t take too kindly to the fact that I had let her live and had followed me on a previous check of my stash. Seeing the haul, she set a trap that I ended up walking right into, hence the pistol poking me none-too-gently in between my eyes. With my arms at my side I know I won’t be able to disarm her before she puts a bullet in my head so I decide to just stare her down.

“Why didn’t you do it?”

“….”

“Answer me!”

“I didn’t feel like it.” My tone is bored as usual, but my senses are on high alert. The woman bristles at the response and the gun wavers before my eyes.

“I’m a high-ranking officer of the Hive! I don’t need your PITY,” she yells before swinging the gun toward my face. I easily dodge the wild attack and throw her into the remains of a shattered table, the pistol once again in my possession. I don’t like killing women, but this bitch is starting to get on my nerves. She stands up, her legs a little wobbly but the rage still present on her face.

“Last chance to walk away.” I don’t know why I thought that would work as it only succeeds in contorting her face further.

“Die you bastard!” She doesn’t take two steps before I raise the gun and fire. Five shots later she falls on the floor dead, the anger still on her face. I feel a slight amount of remorse to see her corpse lying among the debris. I push it aside and reach for my stuff. Hefting the bags on my shoulders, I give one last look at the body before leaving the building. To my immense luck I find an entrance to the base less then thirty yards from my position. The moon is high overhead when I slip into the hole and disappear from the surface.

 
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Yellow Jacket
I fly back to the Hive’s base, determined to gun down anyone attempting to gain entrance. On the way, I observe the conflict from above. It’s really gotten out of hand. I need to find the Silencer now and then he is freaking dead.

 
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Having thanked the man and taken the bag from him, I headed on. I had to find shelter, he said, so clearly the streets were not safe at night. I’d already found that out, I’d seen the carnage, the charred and mutilated corpses.

I carried on, along what was once a busy high street. It was now empty, silent as a crypt. The shops had mostly been looted, although some had been boarded up by squatters inside. There was nothing of use to me in there, and I wouldn’t be accepted by the angry and afraid victims of this grim day.

The footsteps behind me stopped. It had been a persistent noise up until now, following me since I’d left the camp. Light steps, like someone wanting to remain unheard. Not hostile, or at least not yet, because I hadn’t been attacked. Do I confront them? Ignore them?

The decision was made for me, as my bionic ears picked up another sound, several hundred metres off. Very faint, even to my enhanced senses, but it was there. Crying. Fear. Pain. I charged towards the sound, hitting forty miles an hour in under a second. My metal feet thud against the concrete below, the sound ringing out like a gunshot as I speed up, mechanical muscles firing like pistons. If I am being followed, then let them follow. I’m sure they’ll catch up eventually.

I turned the corner and saw them, ahead of me. A man, his back against the wall, surrounded by eight thugs dressed in, for some strange reason, dark blue. They were all armed with worn-out blades, hatchets, bits of lead pipe, definitely not your first choice of weapons. The man was unarmed and silent, his eyes screaming for mercy… where is the crying coming fr-

One of the thugs was also carrying a baby, dangling from his belt by the ankle like some sick, screaming souvenir. I need to react. Now. I charged towards them, boots striking the ground with a sound like machine gun fire, covering the hundred-metre gap in less than six seconds. My perception circuits go into overdrive, time slowing down to a crawl as my electronic eyes read every moment, scan every second, absorbing vital information about my opponents. Their height, weight, muscle mass, weaponry, potential weak spots, all calculated and considered in moments, to form a plan of attack.

I chose my target. The shortest person in the gang, holding a sword almost as big as himself. Clearly the leader of this group. Eliminate him, and the gang will panic. Or, should.

They hear me coming, and turn, far too slowly to do anything about it. Travelling at twenty metres per second, I’m on top of them before they can blink. Without stopping, I land a punch on the short leader’s face that hits with the force of a jackhammer. His cheek and jaw collapse, the force of the blow snapping his head sideways, the momentum carrying him several metres across the cold paving slabs.

I come to a halt, leaving dark scars on the pavement, rubber from the soles of my boots. The seven remaining lackeys stare at me, dumbfounded.

“Give Back The Child.” I demand.

“This one? You want this?” the man asks, smiling as he holds it aloft. “Catch!”

The baby is hurled into the air. Calculating speed and trajectory, it will land in six seconds. Bad move on their behalf, as I now have just under six seconds to deal with them, and no reason to hold back.

A lightning-fast kick to the teeth of the smiling thug ruins his smug grin forever, and knocks him out cold. I spin round and deliver a backhand blow to another man, knocking him into the wall hard enough to leave a dent. A third is quickly dispatched with a knee to the groin. One man swings for me, missing wildly as I step back and watch him fall over his own feet. The three remaining enemies back away from me, as I catch the falling child.

Another one drops to the floor, the distressed father behind him having taken the perfect opportunity to put a lead pipe to good use.

“Take The Child. Get To Safety. Now.” He takes my advice, and runs back towards the refugee camp. Maybe he will be luckier than I was, but I don’t need luck.

The ragged thugs start to pull themselves together, grabbing their unused weapons and trying to wake up their fallen. The leader was certainly dead, as was the smug fool. Both of them had broken necks, but that didn’t discourage their former allies. They drew arms again, and tried to circle me.

Fools. They’d already seen how I fight, yet they still thought to try and harm me. They’ll be even more shocked when they find that their weapons can’t even cut me. These weren’t the same class of violent sociopaths that caused the carnage I had seen earlier, but they revelled in chaos and torture all the same. And they would pay.

[[Wow, I really screwed the tenses that time. Never mind, I’ll fix it later. Also, Pyro, feel free to make some sort of relevant post/Big Damn Heroes moment. Your choice how involved with the fight you get.]]

 
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The Silencer
I continue to follow this strange man, unsure exactly what he’s trying to do. He suddenly picks up speed and almost loses me in the streets. I wonder if he’s even human, as few can outrun me, even in the labyrinthine ruins. He comes to a group of thugs harassing a man. I recognize them as Underworld members. I am impressed at this man’s skill in dispatching them, but I feel I have not seen him at his full potential. “Those who disobey my orders will be punished.”

I pull the star-tipped rod off my back. The tip splits into a claw-like structure. I fire it at the wall and a long cable extends from both ends, near the thugs and also behind me. I grab onto the casing and ride down my makeshift zipline, braced for impact. I jump off at the end, just barely avoiding contact with the concrete wall, and break my fall with one of the remaining Underworlds. The others stand in shock as their leader just used one of their comrades as a speed bump. I quickly dispose of the final two by smashing their skulls in with my morningstar before they can even think of reacting. I crush the unconscious ones heads under my boots, blood and brains staining the ground. I turn to meet this mysterious man.

“Hello. And you are?”

[[Are you a troper?]]

 
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I step into my room and drop the bags near the table I have. Laying out all the things I acquired, I pull out a battered green notebook and start taking inventory. Six pistols, twenty-five assorted grenades (13 generic, 8 flash, and 4 frag), an assault rifle, two shotguns, ammo for all the weapons, three shirts with Hive insignia, two pairs of pants, a couple sheets of some kind of metallic alloy, three knapsacks, a military-style duffel bag, some assorted personal mememtos from my victims, and the batons from that young lieutenant.

Pretty damn impressive, I think with no small sense of satisfaction as I start to separate the weapons and alloy from the stuff I’ll sell to the shops inside the base. After hiding the guns (this place is mostly criminals, after all) I make my way to my favorite shop, The Hunting Effect. I ignore the pretty young thing behind the counter and head to the back. The owner, a heavy-set man named Samuel, chuckles as I walk into his office.

“Well now, to what do I owe this surprise,” he asks in his Midwestern accent before his eyes catch the sacks hanging from my shoulders. His smile is wide as he speaks again. “Got you some more stuff, eh? Well give it here! Let’s see the stash.” I smirk at his enthusiasm as he sorts through the items, exclaiming every once and a while before moving to the next item. I sometimes wonder what he does with these things, since a lot of it has very little use in this wild and rough world. Nevertheless, he pays me well for my efforts so I don’t dwell on it. After he tallies up, and after an obligatory bout of haggling, I leave THE with free shoulders and a full wallet. Using my newly-earned cash I indulge in a full meal at a nearby restaurant before heading home again. It’s when I look around the spartan apartment that I realize I’m not tired yet. The adrenaline from my battles with those two lieutenants is still steadily pumping in my veins. It made me feel a little… reckless.

Maybe one more trip to the surface will even me out. It’s well-known and well-documented knowledge that stepping out into Ather City at night is tantamount to poking the devil in the eye and waiting to see what he’ll do. Still, I’m not going to sleep anytime soon. Before that, though, I tinker with the strange alloy, fashioning a crude chest plate and guards that all the space beneath my knee and above my ankle. It’s a strange feeling, but they feel light as a feather. I hope that doesn’t mean they’re weak. Picking out two pistols, a shotgun, and of course my blade (mobility and freedom of movement are even more essential at night), I reach a tunnel to the surface.

Let’s get wild!

 
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Max
Soldier Entering abandoned sector of base: Star….GETS SHOOT Max: Son of a starts shotting the traitor

 
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The man looked at me, his weapon and boots coated in gore, and asked me my name as if nothing had happened. Clearly for him this was Tuesday. What I didn’t know was whether this man was an enterprising hero come to mop up these attackers, or a psychopath who had just crushed the lesser of two evils between his boots. I knew from the start that he wasn’t on my side, but only because I didn’t have a side.

All I knew about him was that he was prone to violence, unconcerned about blood and bodies, and was capable with a weapon. How much do you need to trust someone to give them your name?

I didn’t even have a name. I was assigned the code number S2-X17, which was the secretive code for the operation that had created me. The other 16 projects in the “Second Soldier” operation had failed utterly, and no trace of the organisation involved had survived the destruction. X17 is not a name. I thought for a moment, for something acceptable.

“I Am Matthew. Who Are You?” I could not control my monotonous artificial voicebox, which annoyingly meant I was stuck with this voice. Not only was it irritating, but it was bound to cause concern.

 
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It’s not even two minutes that I’m walking the streets when I sense an arm rushing towards my face from my right. Reacting automatically, my own arm comes up to block the strike. In the light of the moon I can see that this man (if man he is) has a layer of smoke emanating from his body. I can’t see his face because of the hoodie pulled up but I can hear his laughter, high-pitched and maniacal. I use my arm to push him back and launch a kick to his sternum. To my immense surprise my leg goes right through him, throwing me off balance. Before I can recover he attempts a kick of his own that knocks me back. The entire time he continues to laugh.

He must be one of the mutants created by the bomb, I think as I stagger upright and take a stance. In the time it took to recover I see that he now has a knife in his hand. A rusty and blood-soaked old thing that I recognize with an internal shudder has taken many lives in extremely unpleasant ways. His laugh echoes in the darkness as he lunges again, blade tipped forward. I dodge at the last possible moment and try a punch for his face only to have it pass harmlessly again. Ducking under another wild swing of the knife, I hop back a safe distance. What the hell do I do now? I hate fighting mutants….

 
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The Silencer
“Good to meet you. Michael.”
I simply swing the morningstar and blood flies off. I press a button and it collapses into a small, one foot long rod. I pull the grappling hook out of the wall and retract the cable, resetting it in its harness on my back.
“Well, hope to meet you again.” I turn around and walk away, blending into the shadows, without a glance back.

 
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I hop over a downed fence with ease, pumping my legs to maintain a steady speed while my mind processes the situation quickly. The mutant has finally stopped laughing thanks to a lucky strike to his face with my knee. Unfortunately, now he’s screaming like a banshee while chasing me through the city and that is BOUND to attract more attention than I need right now. Despite all that, I feel a smile creep onto my face because I finally discerned this creature’s weakness. He may be able to turn his body to smoke, but that’s only if he can react fast enough to change in time to avoid an attack. It’s all a matter of speed. Needing to test my theory, I hop onto the hood of a car and jump as high as I can into the air. Sure enough, the mutant follows suit and we’re both in mid-air. Twisting so that we’re facing each other, I aim one of my pistols at him and fire four quick shots. The first two graze his skin while the other two pass harmlessly through the smoke.

Looks like I was right, I think with a smug grin. Tucking my body into a ball, I land and roll to my feet without any damage. The mutant, on the other hand, tries to land on his feet without re-directing the energy. As a result, he staggers in place for a moment, giving me time to once again assume my iaijutsu stance. There’s no point in running now since I know what I need to do. The screams have stopped, thankfully, as the mutant breathes deeply in an effort to dispel the pain he must be feeling. Soon enough he looks up and growls. I just wait. To my utter surprise, he speaks right before rushing forward.

DIE!” I tense as he gets closer and, using the speed I’ve earned from my training, manage to slice the mutant’s head off before he could defend himself. Blood so dark it looks black spurts from the headless body as I make sure to wipe my blade clean before returning it to its sheath. I take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart. Now THAT was a hell of a battle. One more like that and I’ll be begging for my bed, that’s for sure. Once I feel my jitters cease, I turn into an alley and resume my search for a battle, though hopefully not against another mutant.

 
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Michael
After the battle was won, I searched after responsible people again.

 
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can I quit? I joined a week ago, and I haven’t posted a thing yet.

 
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[just don’t post then]

 
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The shadows seem alive, like monstrous jaws waiting for the perfect moment to snap shut. I can’t help but feel a small sliver of fear as I continously scan my surroundings. Just give me one more fight and I’ll go home, I ask of this ruined city, willing it to reveal my next opponent. Almost as if it were indeed the will of a sentient being, a figure steps out of the revolving doors of what used to be an executive office building. She’s dressed all in black, her face shrouded by the shadow of a baseball cap, midnight-black hair dangling in a long ponytail. It’s when she turns to face me that I spot the two katana tied to her waist. A feral grin adorns my face as my scar throbs in anticipation. She doesn’t speak a word as she pulls the blades out and points one in my direction, a clear challenge.

“Now that’s more like it!” I pull my own katana out and let the diamond edge catch the light of the moon. “Give me your absolute best!” My adrenaline soars as I take the intiative and rush forward.

(Wow, I’m having such a blast writing all this!)

 
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The Silencer
I walk through the shadows, unseen to the average human. A man tries to jump me from an alley, so I attempt to snap his arm but he somehow dodges it. “Ah. Speedsters now.”
He charges me but I dodge just as easily and snap his left arm. This only seems to anger him and he charges again. He is significantly slower at this point and I easily stop him and dislocate his right shoulder. Despite his crippling injuries, he still tries to attack me, easily kicked to the ground.

Bleeding and injured, but still conscious, he threatens that his boss will kill me. I laugh, knowing that he’s no threat to me. “Let your boss know that he can come. The Silencer will silence all who oppose him.” I walk away, letting him run awkwardly back to the rest of his comrades.

 
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A full and complete smile is plastered all over my face as our blades clash together once more. It didn’t take me long after the battle started to destroy the sword in the woman’s left hand since it was just a basic run-of-the-mill katana. The diamond edge of my own weapon sliced it in half easily. To add to my ever-rising respect, the mysterious woman immediately throws it aside and attacked again. We dance underneath the moonlight, a deadly tango of near-misses and blocks that cause sparks to fly off our blades.

“You’re amazing,” I yell as my foot pivots and pushes my body to my left. Without missing a beat she steps forward with her right and directs a horizontal slash beneath my waist. I slam my blade into the ground to block the attack and lift myself up off the ground into two-legged roundhouse kick. She’s flies back some distance, bouncing only once before righting herself, lifting her sword up in a defensive stance that parries my rushing strike. Our dance resumes once more, the fury palpable on her frame. My curiosity builds as I see that with each meeting of our blades, a little piece of my weapon is chipped off while hers remains unblemished. Recognizing the event for what it is I adjust my approach, switching from full-on blocks to parries and dodges. I know I can’t maintain this pace any longer so I start looking for an opening in earnest.

I’m starting to become nervous as the battle drags on, feeling the cool air soothe the cuts on my arms and shoulders as fatigue creeps up on me. I have to end this NOW but I can’t find an opening! Well, if there isn’t one, I could always MAKE one, I think with a nervous grin. Taking a deep breath I catch her sword in a block and use my weight to push her back. She takes one step to steady herself and it’s all I need. I thrust my hand out, triumph on my face as my fingers close around the hand bearing her sword. Twisting my hips I wrench the blade from her grasp only to continue my spin and shove my own into her chest. Like a hot knife through butter it sinks into her body, slicing her heart in half and killing her instantly. The moon seems to twinkle in celebration of my hard-earned victory.

“I should’ve just used the shotgun,” I mutter sarcastically, eyeing the weapon discarded by the door, even as I fall to my knees and take deep breaths. I will the fatigue away and return both my blade and hers to their sheaths before dragging my now-tired body to the nearest Underworld exit. Looks like I’ll be sleeping deep tonight!

 
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It wasn’t long before I was in more trouble. I had been walking for hours, taking random turns every now and again, looking for some form of shelter. It was dark, probably gone midnight, so I was expecting trouble.

I turned a corner, and found myself in the middle of a war. There were approximately twenty people on each side. They may have had uniforms or some identifying differences, but the thick coating of crimson removed all trace of unity, and it was a full-on brawl with everyone fighting whoever was nearest.

One of the combatants looked up, saw me and called out, a deafening war cry that was without words or meaning, but was pure emotion, a wail of hatred. Instantly the battle stopped, as they all turned towards me. Forty five barbaric psychopaths stared at me, a gleam of evil in their eyes. They knew they would enjoy this. They didn’t fight to win, or even for survival. They fought purely for the sake of fighting.

Fight or flight. I had a choice to make. An easy decision. I am a weapon, built to kill, and killing these people would make the city safer, if only slightly. And if they were foolish enough to try and attack me, they deserve all the pain they get.

 
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Sarge
Walks down a street quickly and silently gripping my rifle tight while checking the remaining ammo in the clip.

 
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Reaver
I look out into the moonlight street, I feel my blood pumping round my body my spikes adorned with heads of long lost bodies, I look down at the shirvering figure below me. Pitiful creature I think as I cut of her head, Im back on the hunt again desperate for blood. I climb back onto the back of my motorbike and screech of into the street on the way I see two big clans fighting I decide to grab an unexpecting person and snap thier neck. The pain refreshes me, I carry on leaving the battleground. I need to find something more….. rejuvintaing.

 
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Originally posted by mivey1992:

Sarge
Walks down a street quickly and silently gripping my rifle tight while checking the remaining ammo in the clip.

If you want to join, sign up first.

 
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A dark, desolate street in the middle of the night. There I was, statuesque, surrounded by nearly fifty armed psychopaths. All they wanted was blood. I didn’t have any to give. Instead, I gave them hell.

They fought without skill or tactics, but instead like feral beasts, with rage and wild, violent swings. I tore through them like a scythe during harvest. Punching and kicking my way through the crowd, my attacks broke bones, or sometimes removed limbs. A sweeping kick at knee-height took down several in one blow, but they still dragged themselves forwards with their hands, or tried to charge at me on their ruined legs. The strikes kept coming, a torrent of pain unleashed on the wild creatures that were once human.

But even as I continued attacking, they kept pressing on, regardless of broken limbs and bashed-in skulls. They wanted blood, and they didn’t care where from. Their own would do.

I kept fighting, striking harder and harder, uppercuts severing heads from shoulders and kicks turning flesh and bone into pulp and powder. They continued to attack until they were dead, and they had to be absolutely dead before they stopped.

When they finally did, I was as covered in blood as they had been when they started. Remnants of corpses littered the square, which was also painted red with gore. Nobody would have believed that this happened. Even I wasn’t sure what happened. Corpses don’t fight, and many of those who were fighting were definitely corpses.

I stood in the empty square, crimson blood dripping off my hands, staring at the bodies that surrounded me, waiting for them to attack again, sincerely hoping they wouldn’t.

 
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The Silencer
I watch this bloody massacre from a rooftop 500 meters away. “Sighs So much potential wasted in so passive a person.” I jump and slide down the side of the building into a gaping sewer grate, once more blending into the night.

 
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(I want to post but in order to do so I need to advance the time to morning. I hope no one minds…)

The next morning I sit at my table to inspect my new sword. I notice immediately that it’s made from an alloy that I don’t recognize, but I conclude that it must be strong to withstand and even break the diamond edge of my other sword. Only one metal could do that… the realization that I’m holding a sword made of adamantium makes me tremble with excitement. An adamantium blade! Where the hell did that woman get a hold of such a treasure? Standing up, I take a few experimental swings to test the weight and find it perfect for my use. Returning it to its sheath, I slide it into the sash with my other sword. I’ll need to practice my niten-ryu skills but first I have to repair the damage to my primary weapon.

I make my way through the tunnels until I reach the area where the weaponsmiths practice their craft. In this world of fighting and slaughter, only the bosses are higher in authority than they are. It’s always a good idea to be chummy with a weaponsmith. Of course, it would help if they weren’t all insufferable perverts, I think as I step into a shop aptly named Dick’s Enhancements. The owner, a gray-haired old man by the name of Richard Dregg, sees me and smiles lasciviously.

“Hey there handsome,” he yells in what he must believe is a seductive tone. A deep shudder goes through me at the desire swirling in his brown eyes. “Have you finally decided to just accept the inevitable? I can clear my table in no time and we can have a little… fun.”

“Shut the hell up and fix my blade, you old pervert.”

“Would you like my mouth or another hole?”

“My sword!”

“You need to whip it out first!” I can feel a twitching near my right eye as I point my weapon in his face. The bastard doesn’t even blink and the disappointment clear on his face makes me want to gnash my teeth. “Oh, you meant that blade… well why didn’t you just say so? Give it here.” I hand over the weapon for inspection and wait. “And just HOW in the hell did you manage to chip away diamonds from my masterpiece?”

“She had adamantium on hers.” I studiously ignore the jealousy evident on his face. “Will you be able to restore it?”

“Of course,” he says with a scoff. “Come back tomorrow and it’ll be ready.” I give him a fleeting wave on my way out. After eating some breakfast I head over to the common area to fish for some information on what to do for today.

 
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[Feel free to advance the timeline as you see fit. Just leave others room to manoeuvre, and if all else fails they can always make a catch-up post where they either fill in their gap in the timeline or just jump in where everyone else is. I have to catch up with nearly twenty pages of posts once, when my net dropped. I’ve skipped bits of timeline myself, I mean, my first post was just after the bomb went off, and these gangs and mutants haven’t sprung up in one day. It’s been at least a few weeks, I’d imagine.

Also, an Adamantium blade… Nice.]

Being coated in blood was not a good thing. I swiftly found that the violent creatures had a deep thirst for the crimson nectar that sent them into a frenzy. They were tracking me, the mob behind me growing in size every few feet. They were becoming noisier, the ecstasy growing as they got closer and closer. They would not remain content merely following me, at least not for long.

I turned to face them. They stopped, frozen where they were. Possibly fear, but probably some emotion more twisted and perverse. There wasn’t enough humanity left in them to feel fear.

It was a silent moment, one devoted to concentration and anticipation.

I viewed the crowd, picking out faces, focussing on weapons, analysing individuals.

They saw a great big meal. Sadly for them, I was a boulder dressed as a banquet, and they would not be eating tonight. They would never be eating again.

The moment shattered with a deafening cry as they charged. Same pack mentality, same vicious, bestial rage, same lack of skill or capability. Mostly. There was one man, thin as a rake but still going, less covered in blood and obviously not quite under his own control. His legs and arms wanted to get into the fray, but his face showed how afraid he was. He had to be kept alive.

I strode forwards and met the flood of bodies head on. I slammed my fist into the mass of creatures, aiming for the skull. They seemed to shrug off limb damage, pushing on as if it were just a flesh wound. Thankfully they still rely on some sort of brain activity, although again they would ignore all but the most serious blows, even having chunks of brain removed would not stop them. I pressed on, making every blow absolutely lethal. Some of them still tried to fight, regardless. Their attacks were identical to my previous attackers, wild thrusts and swings too slow and ill-aimed to hit me.

I dodged around one blood-soaked brute and delivered a chop to his back, severing his spinal cord and leaving him groaning on the floor, immobile. So they did at least use normal human biology, and were not powered by some unbelievable magic.

I kept on, fighting through the wave of living bodies, striking them down with every blow, and suddenly saw a face I had picked out before. He was haphazardly striking in random directions, often hitting his own fellows with the first decent sword I had seen all day.

I grabbed him by the neck and lifted him off his feet, while striking down the last of the creatures with my free hand. He tried to swing at me, and I blocked the blade with my forearm. I pinned him down so he couldn’t attack me, and interrogated him.

“What Is This? Explain.”
“Wha… These creatures? They’re mutants. They’re like, ex-gang-members, sort-of infected, too much killing or radiation or something. We call them ‘Beserkers’, or sometimes ‘Sharks’, they just want to kill all the time.”
“Sharks?”
“They go crazy for blood.”
“They Were Once Human?”
“Yes, but the gangs did things to them, and they’ve gone mad!”
“Why Are You Different?”
“They only did it to me this morning, I’ll be changed by this time tomorrow.”

I end the conversation by snapping his neck. If there were more mutants other than Sharks, then it would not be long before I found them. But for now, I had to wash away this blood.

 
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(Yeah, I remembered that your body has it so I figured I could partake of that metal myself.)

It doesn’t take much time to find out that our group is still hunting members of the Hive, but from the rising body count on our side it’s clear that the grunts have been dealt with. Fingering the handle of my new sword, I wonder if it’s time to go after the big fish. Taking Yellow Jacket’s head would be no easy feat but it would certainly rake in a pretty penny. Then again, I’m pretty sure that the boss wants that honor for himself and I have no intention of taking on all of Underworld just to kill one man… perhaps if he came to me? I HAVE been cutting down his subordinates left and right so it wouldn’t be a small stretch of the imagination that he would seek me out, if only to neutralize the threat I pose. A deep shudder of trepidation runs down my spine as I remember all that Yellow Jacket is capable of. I would need every advantage I could get against him, namely a solid counter to his aerial abilities.

My next move is clear then. It’s time to re-enter the wasteland for a firepower upgrade. I make a pit-stop by my place to pick up a few long-range weapons and then head for the surface.