Keono
First time out of the vault
I've started a 'written series' that takes place in a post apocalyptic world, destroyed by a nuclear war, much like Fallout in that sense. It's dark and gritty, and a bit violent too. I'm posting a new part once every week or so on my site:
http://thewastelands.wordpress.com/
I'll post the first part here. If you like it, keep an eye on the site for the updates. And please comment if you've read it, I want to improve myself as much as I can, so any comment is welcome =)
Oh, and if someone is interested in making art for the site, PM me or leave a comment on the site.
Enjoy!
Warning: the content can be considered unsuitable for underaged audiences. Read at your own risk.
The whole world’s been reduced to nothing but sand and radiation, utter destruction at its best. The Last War of the Old World destroyed pretty much everything. It’s been hundreds of years so it’s hard to tell what it must’ve been like, but there’s still some evidence. A lot of the buildings and other stuff survived the Last War, but what remains are scraps, empty casings of what has been. Living in a world that consists of sand and radiation is tough, we had our fair share of trouble, like any other no-name town. The main problem everyone was dealing with: raiders. They come in and demand food or money. In the end they'll always ask for too much and wreck the entire place, it's the way of the wastes. Anyway, every month or two the raiders came by our village as well, demanding their share, which we gave 'em since the only resistance we could offer was stabbing at them with a cattle prod... not likely a successful method. One day, when I was twelve or thirteen years old, our offer was too little and we got hit... but good. They started stealing, destroying and raping; anything with a face that walked on two legs would do it. Eventually, they got into our house. My mom hid me from them. I got to watch all those terrible things they did to her, one by one having their way with my mother. They took everything that anyone of us had, they did as they pleased, not caring what the consequences would be for others. That's when my life was determined, I now had only one goal in life: to be a raider.
The Wastelands
Part 1 – Home
Streets filled with whores, addicts and lowlife criminals, lit by neon lights from casino’s and brothels. It’s downtown Metro at midnight, my kinda town. Though I’m not here to wander and enjoy the scenic views of alley blowjobs, I’m here on business. Derrick ‘Don’ Donahue, the head of some mob family, hired me to find out who’s been skimming off the top. He’s an opium dealer, preparing to launch a new drug called ‘trax’, some heavy stuff that’s strong enough to kill a dog. Concentrated liquids are shot into a vein, causing the user to lose their fucking mind and dream up all kinds of weird shit. It’s a lot like the liquid opium drug used by street junkies, of which the production is cheap and thus it doesn’t cost as much as the high end drugs, but this is stronger and more concentrated. Trax, unlike the liquid opium crap, is worth a lot of money. I don’t do that kinda stuff though, only some serious painkillers. Good for clearing up some aches and getting your rush on, but you don’t wanna get shot while on ‘em, or you’ll bleed dry like a gutted pig.
Anyway, some dumbass was stupid enough to skim off the top with some opium deal. You just shouldn’t do that with guys like Don, they’ll get you. And not just get you, they’ll want you to suffer for real. That’s where I come in.
I found out it’s this Trevor guy who’s about to deepthroat my combat knife. So I’ll pay him a visit. He lives in a crappy neighborhood among the hobo’s and all kinds of losers. A lot of kids there too since their moms are stupid sluts who welcome any meat pole close enough for penetration. I once did a mom like that, had four kids walking around. Maybe I gave her a fifth, who knows. All I know is I’m staying the fuck away from messed up people like that, especially now that I’m not a nobody anymore, now that I’ve got some serious business going.
This looks like it. I’m standing in a street that’s lit by some flaming barrels, a couple of broken street lights that got torches tied to ‘em, and the full moon. He’s supposed to be near some fighting ring where lowlifes battle for non-existing glory. It’s amazing to see what people cling onto when there’s really nothing in their lives that could give ‘em meaning… but then again, look at me: I slaughter people or capture them and sell ‘em to the highest bidder. The worst part is that I like it, shooting someone in the crotch and letting them crawl over the floor like a wounded animal. But that’s what the waste’ll do to someone.
Here’s the fighting ring. Well, it’s four pieces of wood stuck in the ground with some rope tied around ‘em, but it suffices for the locals. The place is brimming, loads and loads of poor people came to watch this fight, some ridiculous rumble between two no-talents. I step up to some smelly old fart with a messy beard, wearing a dirty trench coat, and ask him for directions.
“Hey pops… know a guy named Trevor?”
He looks at me, scared shitless already. Maybe be because of my impressive combat armor that I stole from some high class merchant. Or is it stealing when the merchant’s dead? Anyway, we didn’t agree at some level, so he got killed.
“Err… no, don’t know a Trevor, boy.”
I show him some money and ask again.
“You sure old man? Maybe some chips might refresh your memory, right?”
“It-it might, y-yeah…” he stumbles and stutters.
I give him ten coins.
“He err… he’s with some girl.”
“Where?”
The old fucker stares at me like a puppy begging for food.
“Look,” I say, pointing at his hands full of credits, “ten coins, and…” I take out a hypo filled with some opium liquid from my shoulder bag, “you get to have this one, have a blast tonight. Whaddya say?”
Somewhere underneath that chunk-filled beard is a smile. The opium and the syringe aren’t worth much more than five to eight coins, but to a guy like this, it’s the world. So I hand it to him and await his answer.
“He’s with Mira. They ran off five minutes ago.”
“Where to, old man?”
“Just through that alley. I think they went to her place. A shack with some pink graffiti on it.”
I stand next to him, place my right arm around his shoulder and smile at him, thankfully. He looks at me with a cheerful face, not realizing what I’m holding in my hand. Then I let my arm slide downwards, over his back. Swiftly I stab him near his spine between the ninth and tenth rib, hitting his aorta, I hope. I walk away. And like most victims that are stabbed in this manner, he’s still standing, but steadily dying. He eventually drops to the ground and people look to see what happened, but I’m long gone.
I didn’t grab my money or my syringe, it’s not the greed. But letting someone take money and possessions from you like that leaves me feeling weak. I have to prove to myself and to the world that taking something from me has a price, the highest you’ll ever pay. Gotta keep the world on its toes.
So, after strolling through an alley, I see some building with pink graffiti sprayed onto it. It reads “30 bucks.” The street price of a quick lay with some AIDS-invested hypo whore. No one’s around, so I silently try to open the door. It’s unlocked. I open it and walk into the first of two rooms. Some moaning can be heard from the other room, also behind a door. Time for my grand entrance.
I quietly sneak in to find two lovers during some steamy lovemaking, him on top of her, a blanket covering his ass. They’re not noticing me so far. It’s fun being able to stand next to someone, watching them, having power and control over them. But that’s enough of that. I kick the guy in the ribs, tossing him off the broad. He groans and she doesn’t know what’s going on for a moment. Just enough time for me to stomp my boot onto her stomach, silencing her.
“So,” I say while squatting down, “you must be Trevor, right?”
The guy’s still coughing and wheezing. I didn’t think my kick was that hard, but whatever.
“Trevor…?” I ask again.
“Ugh… you… who th-”
“Casey. Now, on to business. Confirm you are Trevor, please, before we continue.”
The girl comes to after a bit of heavy breathing, then she sees me next to her, staring at her client. I don’t look away from my target, I simply show her the knife I’m holding in my right hand and give her a warning.
“No screaming or any of that, or I’ll widen your moneymaker to fit a chimney. Now…”
“Leave her out of this” he requests.
“Ah, so you know why I’m here?”
“Don sent you, right?”
“Well, I’m here on his behalf, yeah. So are you Trevor?”
“Yes, you fucking-”
I immediately rise from my position and walk towards his sorry ass, scaring him so badly that he doesn’t dare to finish his sentence.
“Trevor, just a question. How fukken’ stupid are you, really?”
“Wh-what?”
“Come on… skimming off the top from Donahue? And worse, calling me a fucking-‘something’?”
“Don’t do this man. I need the money. Don’s got more than enough!!”
I punch him in the face.
“Quiet, dumb shit.”
“Leave him alone, please” the girl starts.
I turn around, interested in where this is going.
“I don’t like doing this for money, and Trevor doesn’t like pimping me and selling drugs… but we need money to leave town, build up a new life.”
“We planned on going to Fortum.”
I chuckle.
“Fortum? That’s an uptight town, policed, strongly governed by self-righteous assholes. You wanna get a job, have a decent life?”
“Yes,” he answers, “there are cheap houses on the outskirts of Fortum, we’ll make some money, get a better life… maybe even get a house in central Fortum after a year or ten.”
I look at Mira and remain silent, I’m thinking about the situation.
“I love him… sir. Can’t you tell them we skipped town? We’ll leave tonight and you’ll never hear from us again.”
I look into her eyes.
“You really want to leave town?” I ask her.
“Yes, we really do” she confirms.
“And you really love him?”
“Yes, as much as I ever could love anyone.”
I nod slowly, understanding the situation.
“Then you might want to look away now.”
I leave the building, carrying a knocked out Mira over one shoulder. She tried to attack me while I was cutting Trevor’s throat open in an orderly fashion, the way I learned to kill animals when I was a farmhand. So I got a little rough on her. I just make my way through the alleys and take her to Don’s club. I move into the alley next to the building, leading to the employees-entrance. Barry and Winston, two huge black fellows, are guarding the door.
“Could any of you guys get me some rope?” I ask them
“ Why, got some wild plans tonight?” Barry asks me with a deep, humming voice, while grinning so wide his teeth reflect the neon lights.
“No, this is some extra profit I gained during a job for Don.”
“I see. We’ll tie her up for you and leave her in the storage room here. You go on in and see mister Donahue now.”
“Thanks guys. I owe you one.”
“Yeah, you already owe us for watching your dogs.”
I walk into the side-entrance of Don’s club, to see several of his men standing around, preparing for something. They greet me, the usual way.
“Case.”
“How ya doin’ Case?”
“Casey, ‘sup?”
I did some jobs with them, small matters, but they know who I am and what I’m capable of. That’s how it works in this town, reputation is what determines you who you are.
“Good luck tonight guys” I tell ‘em just before I walk up the stairs.
Six men, clothed in leather and armed with assault rifles, stand in the hallway. There are way more guards on this floor, but they’re all busy doing something in one of the dozen rooms. Mostly interrogation of some kind, or ‘training a girl’ for Don’s brothel around the corner. I just move on to the next flight of stairs, leading up to his office.
When I knock on the door, I can hear him sighing deeply, not wanting to be disturbed.
“Yes…” he answers with an annoyed tone in his voice.
I open it and walk in. His mood changes.
“Casey! ‘Killer’ Case, how are you? Did the job?”
“Of course, and I took some of his stuff with me as well.”
I place my shoulder bag on his six foot wide desk, take out a smaller bag and show it to him.
“About three-fifty creds, and some decent quality opium.”
“Good, very good.”
“And I took this slut with me. I was planning on selling her to Skallen, split the profit.”
“What, she’s no good as a whore?”
“She attacked me, I had to rough her up a little.”
“What’s ‘a little’?”
“Shattered nose, I think.”
Donahue laughs.
“That’s alright, sell her off then. Keep the earnings to yourself.”
“What, on top of my salary?”
“Sure. You’ll find some useful way to spend all that money, right Killer?”
He sure is right about that. Anyway, he pays me my fifteen hundred and thanks me for my service. Then I’m off again. Once downstairs, Mira is gagged and tied up, ready for transport. I thank Barry and Winston and take Mira, who’s still unconscious, to my van. As I place her in the back, Winston walks up to me, handing me a weapon.
“Don’t leave town without a rifle” he mentions.
“Thanks. Though you know I’m more of a pistol-kinda-guy” I explain with a smile while patting my holster.
Winston chuckles.
“And you do pretty good with a knife.”
“Hey!” Barry yells. “Yo dogs.”
Two bulky, wolf-like creatures come dashing towards me. Shred and Slash. They nearly knock me over with their enthusiasm. I pet them and let ‘em sit in the back of the van. They sniff at Mira and lick her face, causing Barry and Winston to laugh. Fun as it is here in town, it’s time for me to go, so I get behind the wheel and start up the van.
“Have a good trip Case, see you later.”
“Later” I say while driving off.
Another day, another buck. Off to San Redino, make some money of this broad. But more importantly, deal with Bernie. I’m not done with that fucker.
http://thewastelands.wordpress.com/
I'll post the first part here. If you like it, keep an eye on the site for the updates. And please comment if you've read it, I want to improve myself as much as I can, so any comment is welcome =)
Oh, and if someone is interested in making art for the site, PM me or leave a comment on the site.
Enjoy!
Warning: the content can be considered unsuitable for underaged audiences. Read at your own risk.
The whole world’s been reduced to nothing but sand and radiation, utter destruction at its best. The Last War of the Old World destroyed pretty much everything. It’s been hundreds of years so it’s hard to tell what it must’ve been like, but there’s still some evidence. A lot of the buildings and other stuff survived the Last War, but what remains are scraps, empty casings of what has been. Living in a world that consists of sand and radiation is tough, we had our fair share of trouble, like any other no-name town. The main problem everyone was dealing with: raiders. They come in and demand food or money. In the end they'll always ask for too much and wreck the entire place, it's the way of the wastes. Anyway, every month or two the raiders came by our village as well, demanding their share, which we gave 'em since the only resistance we could offer was stabbing at them with a cattle prod... not likely a successful method. One day, when I was twelve or thirteen years old, our offer was too little and we got hit... but good. They started stealing, destroying and raping; anything with a face that walked on two legs would do it. Eventually, they got into our house. My mom hid me from them. I got to watch all those terrible things they did to her, one by one having their way with my mother. They took everything that anyone of us had, they did as they pleased, not caring what the consequences would be for others. That's when my life was determined, I now had only one goal in life: to be a raider.
The Wastelands
Part 1 – Home
Streets filled with whores, addicts and lowlife criminals, lit by neon lights from casino’s and brothels. It’s downtown Metro at midnight, my kinda town. Though I’m not here to wander and enjoy the scenic views of alley blowjobs, I’m here on business. Derrick ‘Don’ Donahue, the head of some mob family, hired me to find out who’s been skimming off the top. He’s an opium dealer, preparing to launch a new drug called ‘trax’, some heavy stuff that’s strong enough to kill a dog. Concentrated liquids are shot into a vein, causing the user to lose their fucking mind and dream up all kinds of weird shit. It’s a lot like the liquid opium drug used by street junkies, of which the production is cheap and thus it doesn’t cost as much as the high end drugs, but this is stronger and more concentrated. Trax, unlike the liquid opium crap, is worth a lot of money. I don’t do that kinda stuff though, only some serious painkillers. Good for clearing up some aches and getting your rush on, but you don’t wanna get shot while on ‘em, or you’ll bleed dry like a gutted pig.
Anyway, some dumbass was stupid enough to skim off the top with some opium deal. You just shouldn’t do that with guys like Don, they’ll get you. And not just get you, they’ll want you to suffer for real. That’s where I come in.
I found out it’s this Trevor guy who’s about to deepthroat my combat knife. So I’ll pay him a visit. He lives in a crappy neighborhood among the hobo’s and all kinds of losers. A lot of kids there too since their moms are stupid sluts who welcome any meat pole close enough for penetration. I once did a mom like that, had four kids walking around. Maybe I gave her a fifth, who knows. All I know is I’m staying the fuck away from messed up people like that, especially now that I’m not a nobody anymore, now that I’ve got some serious business going.
This looks like it. I’m standing in a street that’s lit by some flaming barrels, a couple of broken street lights that got torches tied to ‘em, and the full moon. He’s supposed to be near some fighting ring where lowlifes battle for non-existing glory. It’s amazing to see what people cling onto when there’s really nothing in their lives that could give ‘em meaning… but then again, look at me: I slaughter people or capture them and sell ‘em to the highest bidder. The worst part is that I like it, shooting someone in the crotch and letting them crawl over the floor like a wounded animal. But that’s what the waste’ll do to someone.
Here’s the fighting ring. Well, it’s four pieces of wood stuck in the ground with some rope tied around ‘em, but it suffices for the locals. The place is brimming, loads and loads of poor people came to watch this fight, some ridiculous rumble between two no-talents. I step up to some smelly old fart with a messy beard, wearing a dirty trench coat, and ask him for directions.
“Hey pops… know a guy named Trevor?”
He looks at me, scared shitless already. Maybe be because of my impressive combat armor that I stole from some high class merchant. Or is it stealing when the merchant’s dead? Anyway, we didn’t agree at some level, so he got killed.
“Err… no, don’t know a Trevor, boy.”
I show him some money and ask again.
“You sure old man? Maybe some chips might refresh your memory, right?”
“It-it might, y-yeah…” he stumbles and stutters.
I give him ten coins.
“He err… he’s with some girl.”
“Where?”
The old fucker stares at me like a puppy begging for food.
“Look,” I say, pointing at his hands full of credits, “ten coins, and…” I take out a hypo filled with some opium liquid from my shoulder bag, “you get to have this one, have a blast tonight. Whaddya say?”
Somewhere underneath that chunk-filled beard is a smile. The opium and the syringe aren’t worth much more than five to eight coins, but to a guy like this, it’s the world. So I hand it to him and await his answer.
“He’s with Mira. They ran off five minutes ago.”
“Where to, old man?”
“Just through that alley. I think they went to her place. A shack with some pink graffiti on it.”
I stand next to him, place my right arm around his shoulder and smile at him, thankfully. He looks at me with a cheerful face, not realizing what I’m holding in my hand. Then I let my arm slide downwards, over his back. Swiftly I stab him near his spine between the ninth and tenth rib, hitting his aorta, I hope. I walk away. And like most victims that are stabbed in this manner, he’s still standing, but steadily dying. He eventually drops to the ground and people look to see what happened, but I’m long gone.
I didn’t grab my money or my syringe, it’s not the greed. But letting someone take money and possessions from you like that leaves me feeling weak. I have to prove to myself and to the world that taking something from me has a price, the highest you’ll ever pay. Gotta keep the world on its toes.
So, after strolling through an alley, I see some building with pink graffiti sprayed onto it. It reads “30 bucks.” The street price of a quick lay with some AIDS-invested hypo whore. No one’s around, so I silently try to open the door. It’s unlocked. I open it and walk into the first of two rooms. Some moaning can be heard from the other room, also behind a door. Time for my grand entrance.
I quietly sneak in to find two lovers during some steamy lovemaking, him on top of her, a blanket covering his ass. They’re not noticing me so far. It’s fun being able to stand next to someone, watching them, having power and control over them. But that’s enough of that. I kick the guy in the ribs, tossing him off the broad. He groans and she doesn’t know what’s going on for a moment. Just enough time for me to stomp my boot onto her stomach, silencing her.
“So,” I say while squatting down, “you must be Trevor, right?”
The guy’s still coughing and wheezing. I didn’t think my kick was that hard, but whatever.
“Trevor…?” I ask again.
“Ugh… you… who th-”
“Casey. Now, on to business. Confirm you are Trevor, please, before we continue.”
The girl comes to after a bit of heavy breathing, then she sees me next to her, staring at her client. I don’t look away from my target, I simply show her the knife I’m holding in my right hand and give her a warning.
“No screaming or any of that, or I’ll widen your moneymaker to fit a chimney. Now…”
“Leave her out of this” he requests.
“Ah, so you know why I’m here?”
“Don sent you, right?”
“Well, I’m here on his behalf, yeah. So are you Trevor?”
“Yes, you fucking-”
I immediately rise from my position and walk towards his sorry ass, scaring him so badly that he doesn’t dare to finish his sentence.
“Trevor, just a question. How fukken’ stupid are you, really?”
“Wh-what?”
“Come on… skimming off the top from Donahue? And worse, calling me a fucking-‘something’?”
“Don’t do this man. I need the money. Don’s got more than enough!!”
I punch him in the face.
“Quiet, dumb shit.”
“Leave him alone, please” the girl starts.
I turn around, interested in where this is going.
“I don’t like doing this for money, and Trevor doesn’t like pimping me and selling drugs… but we need money to leave town, build up a new life.”
“We planned on going to Fortum.”
I chuckle.
“Fortum? That’s an uptight town, policed, strongly governed by self-righteous assholes. You wanna get a job, have a decent life?”
“Yes,” he answers, “there are cheap houses on the outskirts of Fortum, we’ll make some money, get a better life… maybe even get a house in central Fortum after a year or ten.”
I look at Mira and remain silent, I’m thinking about the situation.
“I love him… sir. Can’t you tell them we skipped town? We’ll leave tonight and you’ll never hear from us again.”
I look into her eyes.
“You really want to leave town?” I ask her.
“Yes, we really do” she confirms.
“And you really love him?”
“Yes, as much as I ever could love anyone.”
I nod slowly, understanding the situation.
“Then you might want to look away now.”
I leave the building, carrying a knocked out Mira over one shoulder. She tried to attack me while I was cutting Trevor’s throat open in an orderly fashion, the way I learned to kill animals when I was a farmhand. So I got a little rough on her. I just make my way through the alleys and take her to Don’s club. I move into the alley next to the building, leading to the employees-entrance. Barry and Winston, two huge black fellows, are guarding the door.
“Could any of you guys get me some rope?” I ask them
“ Why, got some wild plans tonight?” Barry asks me with a deep, humming voice, while grinning so wide his teeth reflect the neon lights.
“No, this is some extra profit I gained during a job for Don.”
“I see. We’ll tie her up for you and leave her in the storage room here. You go on in and see mister Donahue now.”
“Thanks guys. I owe you one.”
“Yeah, you already owe us for watching your dogs.”
I walk into the side-entrance of Don’s club, to see several of his men standing around, preparing for something. They greet me, the usual way.
“Case.”
“How ya doin’ Case?”
“Casey, ‘sup?”
I did some jobs with them, small matters, but they know who I am and what I’m capable of. That’s how it works in this town, reputation is what determines you who you are.
“Good luck tonight guys” I tell ‘em just before I walk up the stairs.
Six men, clothed in leather and armed with assault rifles, stand in the hallway. There are way more guards on this floor, but they’re all busy doing something in one of the dozen rooms. Mostly interrogation of some kind, or ‘training a girl’ for Don’s brothel around the corner. I just move on to the next flight of stairs, leading up to his office.
When I knock on the door, I can hear him sighing deeply, not wanting to be disturbed.
“Yes…” he answers with an annoyed tone in his voice.
I open it and walk in. His mood changes.
“Casey! ‘Killer’ Case, how are you? Did the job?”
“Of course, and I took some of his stuff with me as well.”
I place my shoulder bag on his six foot wide desk, take out a smaller bag and show it to him.
“About three-fifty creds, and some decent quality opium.”
“Good, very good.”
“And I took this slut with me. I was planning on selling her to Skallen, split the profit.”
“What, she’s no good as a whore?”
“She attacked me, I had to rough her up a little.”
“What’s ‘a little’?”
“Shattered nose, I think.”
Donahue laughs.
“That’s alright, sell her off then. Keep the earnings to yourself.”
“What, on top of my salary?”
“Sure. You’ll find some useful way to spend all that money, right Killer?”
He sure is right about that. Anyway, he pays me my fifteen hundred and thanks me for my service. Then I’m off again. Once downstairs, Mira is gagged and tied up, ready for transport. I thank Barry and Winston and take Mira, who’s still unconscious, to my van. As I place her in the back, Winston walks up to me, handing me a weapon.
“Don’t leave town without a rifle” he mentions.
“Thanks. Though you know I’m more of a pistol-kinda-guy” I explain with a smile while patting my holster.
Winston chuckles.
“And you do pretty good with a knife.”
“Hey!” Barry yells. “Yo dogs.”
Two bulky, wolf-like creatures come dashing towards me. Shred and Slash. They nearly knock me over with their enthusiasm. I pet them and let ‘em sit in the back of the van. They sniff at Mira and lick her face, causing Barry and Winston to laugh. Fun as it is here in town, it’s time for me to go, so I get behind the wheel and start up the van.
“Have a good trip Case, see you later.”
“Later” I say while driving off.
Another day, another buck. Off to San Redino, make some money of this broad. But more importantly, deal with Bernie. I’m not done with that fucker.