Keono

Hi everyone!

I'm working on a 'written series' or something along the lines of that. It takes place in a post apocalyptic future, spawned from the nuclear aftermath of a war to come, and it tells the violent stories of a man named Casey. I was inspired by films like Mad Max and games like Fallout, because I love the idea of a destroyed world that forces mankind back into a more survivalist or even animal-like role. Initially I posted it on a gaming website where you can place your weblogs, but now I've started my own weblog since I'd like a bigger audience with more serious comments. I was hoping some real writers could give their opinions, which is why I came here.

It's part one of six (so far, the story's still going strong, so to speak) and I hope to receive some serious comment. But most of all, I hope people can enjoy it!

(PS: I don't know for sure if I'm breaking the second rule, the material may be obscene and unsuitable for certain audiences, but I aim for a mature audience in the first place. This is why I've always placed a warning before any post, as I will now. If I broke the rule, please don't ban me, I'm very serious about this series but if it's against the rules, then delete it and I won't post any of it again.)

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.

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http://thewastelands.wordpress.com/

Greed

Ok, just a quick critique. I was slightly confused right from the start of the prologue. If raiders stole everything he had and raped his mother, why persue a dream of becomming one?

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All the great works of the world, known or unknown; Be they bound in leather and scribed on gold leaf or scribbled on a napkin and stowed in some dusty desk drawer, they all started with an idea.

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Keono

That's something mentioned in later parts, but in short: that's what made him realize what true power is. If you want something, take it. Raiders do so and get away with it, if they're good enough. There's a bit more to it, but that's part of the character development you'll get to see in later parts.

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http://thewastelands.wordpress.com/

Ungood

To start off I want to say.. it was well written... it has a few mistakes here and there in the mechanic department that most people would gloss over (The mention of dollars and credits) but given the time placement it is no big deal...

All in all... there is nothing really wrong with this story... and it looks like you have out some effort into it...

You hit the environment well for the most part so I can not fault you there, even if it is a bit over done almost painfully like a copy past of countless other "This is a tough place with crack whores in the alley" type deal...

I feel the vibe...the fighting ring... that was a nice touch... but it is not because I feel a vibe from your story, but because I know this setting... I have seen it before...

I want to say out right that I really enjoy this type of Sci-Fi in many ways, I enjoy the Setting, the post detestation wild land world like environment.

However... there are some serious issues...

First off, and this is real Killer: The Hero is too "Tough" guy to be taken serious... I mean I keep waiting for you to call him Marv I just did not feel with him... he was too "card board cut" out of every "Tough Guy that can take on the World" type feeling...

I kept waiting for him to either get shot in the head or ass-raped.

And the other part is: Sadly but for the life of me I can not think why I would read your story over countless other published and unpublished other works just like it.. I mean there are endless comic books, movies, and all manner of media just like what you have.. makes it easy to imagine your world... yes... but also it makes your world... 'Nothing Special', rather... cookie cutter... to tell the truth...

... as such...

Nothing really... "Grips Me" and "Stands Out" that I am like "oooo let me read about this guy or this place"... there is nothing that would inspire me to sit and read this whole story you have...

And I want you to know that I feel bad saying this because your writing is very easy to read and digest, there is no real fumbling over what is going on it just fires along... I mean I wish it was poorly written so I would not feel so guilty about shooting down a very talented writes story...

But it flops... it's too overdone... it's too "Just like everyone else"..

Ungood.

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Keono

Thanks for reading and critizising!

I can understand why you say that Casey seems flat, and if all parts were like this, you would be totally right. But that was kind of the point. The first two parts show his 'badassness' and make him an almost invincible person, part three is where a bit of the development starts. He is over the top as a person, a total jackass, but I am surely developing his character. (I'm at part six so far by the way)

I don't know if you're willing to read more though. I'll post part two and three soon, maybe you can have a look at those and see what you think then.

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http://thewastelands.wordpress.com/

Keono

As promised, part two and three (in the post underneath it):

Warning: the content can be considered unsuitable for underaged audiences. Read at your own risk.


The desert ahead of me is as empty and boring as the women I fuck once every so many days. But a compass and a map will get me where I need to be as quick as possible, though I’m really bored out of my skull. Shred and Slash are sniffing the tied and gagged broad in the back who’s woken up a few minutes ago; Mira. Her nose was bleeding so bad that I had to stop the car to clean it up. I didn’t want my dogs to lick that crap, I mean, a fucking slut like that probably got a million and one diseases

The Wastelands
Part 2 – Business

She’s squirming and yelling constantly. Well, not yelling, her being gagged and all. But still, the sound of her murmuring through the fabric is annoying the hell out of me. If she keeps at it like this, I’m seriously gonna do some damage to that frail body of her. It’ll lower her worth, but fuck it, there’s only so much a man can take.

“MMMMH!! HMMMMM!!”
“Shut the hell up.”
“MMMMH!!”
“Mira, stop it.”
“HMMMM-HHHM!!”
“Can it, or I’ll rape you with a cactus, here and now.”
“…”

Finally, some goddamn silence. The wasteland may be boring to look at, but at least it’s not annoying to listen to. Anyway, I’m heading over to San Redino. It’s a pretty big town filled with merchants of all kinds. Most of them own a couple of horse-carts for some long distance trading, often to Metro, Fortum, Bleak Pits and Canyon Graves. Few even have some business going with Terra Dio, a fortified place surrounded by high gates, towers and turrets. Scientists go there to further their own cause, but in doing so, they strengthen their technological position. I’m not one to meddle with politics for the time being, all I need is money and weapons, Terra Dio has ‘em both. They pay a lot of money for healthy test-subjects… humans, that is. But it’s out of the way and I need to speak with Kallen anyhow. I heard he has a job for me, a big one. He sai- wait a minute, what’s that smell?

I look behind me and see Shred and Slash sniffing at Mira’s crotch. No wonder, they enjoy a nice lump of salty beef. But then I notice a small puddle of liquid underneath the slut… wait, did she?

I stop the car and walk around the back to open the door. The smell is worse here. It smells like…

“Ah fuck! You pissed in my van?!”
Mira doesn’t dare to look at me, she’s ashamed of herself, and she should be.
“Goddamn…”
I slowly take a deep breath and let the air rest in my lungs. Then I slowly exhale through my nose. Calmly I grab her ankles and untie ‘em.
“One kick, ONE kick…” I threaten her.
I grab her feet, drag her out of the van and let her drop to the ground, causing her to groan. With a few tugs I take off her pants and throw ‘em away. I then fill the back of the van with sand and sweep it out again, getting rid of the piss.
“Do that again and I’ll tie you to the back of my van. Hear me?”
She nods.
“Atta girl.”

After a couple of hours driving, with the backdoors and the windows open, I arrive at San Redino. Rotten buildings, cracked streets, broken people. A dark and gloomy atmosphere roams, as if the town just got hit by a wave of nuclear missiles and everyone’s looking for his family, with the hope of saving them. Most people try to stay off the streets, violence is around every corner, and me entering the city isn’t gonna drop that statistic.

I can see the gangs hanging around already, trying to look their toughest when someone walks by. Most of them never did anyone in, they’re just a bunch of rapists that can’t afford a woman, pathetic. I slowly drive into the city, on my way to Bernie.

Bernie is a small, bald sack of shit that deals with anyone. He’ll sell a burglar the tools to jack into a safe and sell the safety measures against it to the owner. I can respect that, he’s just smarter than those idiots who think they’re dealing with an honest man, assuming he actually cares for his customers. But this time he crossed the line. He fucked up, but good. If he’d done it to anyone, any single person in this sand covered dump, I never would’ve made a fuss about it… unless someone hired me to whack him, of course. But this time he screwed me over. It’s payback time. And not just the usual stuff.

I park the van in front of some two story tall building, rather small and beaten up, but better than most of the residential area. A rifle on my back, a pistol in my holster and a knife in my hand. I get out of the car and open the back doors. I leave Slash with the girl to guard the van. He’ll bark if something’s off, kill if I’m not there within a minute. So now it’s me, Shred and my bloodthirsty rage. I hope the bitch is ready for it.

I kick the door in and walk into the store with a grin from ear to ear on my face. Then I look at Bernie, standing behind a counter.
“HEYA, BERNIE!”
“CASE!”
I throw my knife into his shoulder, making the little queer kneel already.
“You’re no fun” I tell him while walking over.
“GET HIM!!” he yells to his guards, two pistol packing junkheads.
I reach for my holster and quickly draw my pistol. Two shots. Two hits.

One got hit in the throat and the other in his chest. The surviving junkie tries to raise his arm and shoot me.
“Shred, kill.”
Shred has a brief chewing session with the guy’s face. It only takes him a couple of seconds to turn it into something that looks worse than roadkill. Now it’s time for Bernie.

“So, Bernie, you old piece of backstabbing shit” I say to him while walking around the counter.
“Hey Case, you don’t wanna touch me.”
He stares at me, scared as hell, of course. The knife still rests in his shoulder. Bernie thinks he’s got some powerful friends protecting him, but being the old piece of backstabbing shit I just made him out to be, he doesn’t have such friends. I’ve done business with him for over three years now and I didn’t trust him for one bit. Who would?

“Bernie, I’m gonna make you suffer for real.”
“Tank’s got some men walking this town, he’ll round ‘em up and fuck you up the ass!”
“You think Tank will do that for you?” I ask him with as smile.
“I did him a favor, he’ll come through.”
“He’s working for Don now. And who’s Don’s favorite merc?”
The look on his face is priceless. He now realizes his world has fallen apart. Even his last bit of hope has faded, he’s all alone now, and he’s facing me. And I’m in no fucking mood.

“So Bernie, what do you think is an appropriate punishment?”
“Hey, you know I had no choice. I mean, how could I know you’re part of ‘em?”
“Somehow I think we’re past pleading for my understanding.”
“Don’t do this to me Case, please, please, I’ve got some decent business running, I’ll pay you, piece of the action, every month.”
“I own this store now, you have nothing… nothing.”
He shuts his eyes tightly and starts sobbing. Probably hoping it’ll all go away like a bad dream when mommy wakes you up, but no way in hell is this a bad dream. This is reality, Bernie fucked up and he’s gonna pay.

I grab my knife from his shoulder and plant it in his right leg a couple of times. Then I stab his left. The poor bastard screams and howls like a child. It actually makes me stab fiercer.
“That’ll keep you from running away… or running in general.”
I grab him by his collar and drag him to the van where Slash is waiting for me, like the good dog he is. I pet both dogs and congratulate them.
“You’ve both been great, you deserve some high class meat tonight. See what loyalty gets you, Bern? It gets you a nice steak and a pat on the head.”
“Oh fuck you” he whines, not enjoying my sense of humor.

I stuff him in the back with the girl.
“Mira, Bernie. Bernie, Mira.”
“Case, what the hell are-”
I grab the piece of cloth bound around Mira’s head, which served as a gag, and place it on Bernie. The dogs get in the back as well and I take place behind the wheel, on to Kallen.

San Redino, a dozen gangs per street, fighting for a piece of some curb. Power is in the eye of the beholder, I guess. They look at me as if I’m some rich guy who doesn’t know what it means to struggle, to fight for every inch in your life. Are they way off. San Redino isn’t exactly heaven’s backyard, but it’s nothing compared to Metro in the old days. I know most of the heads of the mob families, their brothers and cousins as well. I either fought with ‘em or against them as a thirteen-year-old, we were all kids with the ambition to rule the town. Now we shake hands and do business, we laugh about the past. They did as they promised, I wanted something bigger and so I took my leave for a while. Though they can hire my service, it doesn’t mean they’re my boss. That’s what most people assume but they’re way off, like the street punks staring at me right now.

After a minute of slowly cruising through the city, I end up at Kallen’s place. It’s near down town Redino, next to some loan shark, but he’s got a lot of space for himself. The building is a couple of stories high and has a sign up front reading ‘Kallen – Slave Master’. He’s got a prison block built behind his home to keep the many, many slaves people bring in and pick up. It’s booming business these days. While crime is getting worse every day, a lot of merchants and upper class traders do well for themselves , and so they need slaves to do some dirty work.

The four guards that stand outside of Kallen’s slave pen look at me driving towards them. Then one of them recognizes my van. He holds up his hand, gesturing a polite welcome. I pull up and get out.

“Case” he greets me.
“Fitz, how are you?”
“Doing very well, Kallen’s been good to me.”
“Kallen takes care of those loyal to him.”
The four guards nod.
“I got some for him. Can I deliver?” I ask, pointing to my van.
“You, always. Bring in the goods.”

I open the doors and take Mira out, who’s only wearing a thin top and some smelly panties. She walks next to me with her eyes aimed at the ground, the hell she’s going to experience is a sight she doesn’t want to face yet. Awfully quiet though, usually they kick, scream and shout, they try anything to get out.

When I enter the building, the guards inside take notice of me. Some of them whistle and howl at Mira, showing no remorse whatsoever. A couple of doors later and I’m at Kallen’s office, who is in a heated argument with a very attractive woman. Long black hair hangs over her shoulders, a bit covers her face and those very pretty blue eyes of hers.

Kallen, a six foot eight tall guy with a beard and half long hair combed backwards, just reaching his neck. He stays calm in almost every situation, much like me, which is why we can do very good business together.

“Lydia, please, not now” he speaks to the woman with a calm tone.
“Not now, not later, not ever. You’re never with me anymore, you never listen, you never answer anything I ask you” she replies with a slight touch of anger in her voice.
“I’ve got a guest now. We’ll go to Marin’s and have a nice dinner, we’ll talk, anything you like, okay hun?”
She remains silent for a moment, studying him. But soon she smiles.
“Okay Kal.”
A brief kiss on his lips before she walks away.

“I hope that dinner doesn’t come out of my paycheck” I say to him, grinning.
“Case,” Kallen welcomes me, shaking my hand, “never out of your paycheck.”
“I heard it was gonna be a big one?”
“It is, it is. And I see you got me a gift?”
I get straight to business.
“She’s healthy enough. Pimped for a couple of years so she might not last long with the drugs and the diseases. Street-wise, learns quick, obeys easily.”
“Sounds good enough” Kallen replies, nodding.
“Yeah, just a minor problem” I mention while directing his line of sight towards her nose.
“Ah, damaged goods. Your work?”
“She attacked me while I was on a job.”
“Can’t have that, can we now?”
Mira’s too afraid to look him in the face. I can imagine. Kallen looks like the clean cut version of the devil. Actually, I expect the devil to be this clean cut and calm, businesslike and straight to the point, no remorse. It’ll be warm welcome in hell for me.

“I think doc can set her nose straight, so it will heal in time” Kallen reports to me in all honesty.
“You don’t have to. It’s no one’s fault really, but in the end, I damaged the goods, I should pay.”
“Yes, but you are one of the very few honest clients. Twelve-fifty.”
I shake his hand.
“No argument here. Always a pleasure doing business.”
“As usual, Case” he says while nodding.

“And now to more grave matters…” he starts while walking to his desk.
I walk with him and notice a map and some notes spread over his working space.
“Casey, there’s some trouble on the horizon for us all.”
“Such as?”
“Defenders” he answers, looking at me with a dead serious face.
“They weren’t that much of a problem so far. What’s going on?”
“As you know, these humanitarian liberals have their eyes set on me for quite some time. But now they believe it is time for action.”
“Resulting in…?”
“Direct interference with slave import and export. They’re going to set up camp outside San Redino within three weeks.”
We both pause, remain silent and think. I have a look at the map.
“North-west and south… makes sense. It’s hard to avoid when they set up camp right outside where they can overlook all the incoming and outgoing. It’ll be hard to take precautionary measures. Let them come and clean up?” I ask.
“Exactly. Which is why it is very risky. They’re stupid enough to meddle with us but not quite so stupid they’ll leave their guns home. You know what needs to be done.”
“I’ll tell the guys. We’ll let some sneak into town, three by three as usual, the rest will ride towards ‘em with the sun in their backs.”
“Twenty for the entire deal.”
“That’s a lot, Kallen.”
“It’s not an easy task. Plus, you always make matters like these a… how to word it… a pleasure for the right kind of audience.”
“That’s an added bonus others won’t grant you” I joke, causing him to smile.
“Then it is settled. A pleasure, again, Case.”
I nod and shake his hand.

When I walk up to my van I see two of the guards playing with Slash and Shred. The pups get in the back, next to good ol’ fucking Bernie, and await the next destination. I get in the vehicle and start it up. First I’ll drop by and get some steak for the dogs, then I’ll head back to base. I got some news the boys might like to hear…

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http://thewastelands.wordpress.com/

Keono

Warning: the content can be considered unsuitable for underaged audiences. Read at your own risk.

Me and the dogs had a nice dinner last night. Big, fat, juicy steaks, heavy enough to squash a cat. I couldn’t finish mine, something Slash and Shred didn’t mind. The cute blond waitress gave me a decent enough blowjob on the toilet, something I didn’t mind. Very dense girl though, which is why I chose to fill that mouth of hers before she’d start flapping out any of that dumb crap that girls do. Really, I don’t take women seriously these days, they’re just retarded… Angela and Mona, those are the only two women I can respect. Angela, because she’s a tough-ass lady who does some major business in Metro and Bleak Pits. And Mona, well, she was something else. But pretty much anything else with a cunt is as good as braindead to me. Good for sex, good for slaving, which usually ends up with sex as well, and maybe some odd jobs that need taking care of… like sex with blind guy.

The Wastelands
Part 3 – Loneliness

I’m driving towards the sun, window open, gaspedal pressed all the way down, dogs breathing down my neck trying to see what’s up ahead and some lying dirtbag tied and gagged in the back. My life’s full of it. I’m really hurrying back to base, this is something the boys’ll want to hear, they’ll be glad to get out and do some real damage to those queer Defenders. Actually, I can’t wait to get my hands on those fucks, they’ve been messing up my business as well. Not that I couldn’t sell my slaves any place else if needed, but still, I don’t like driving extra miles because some pussies with lost causes think they’re saviors of humanity. Homo-fucks… Goddamn, do I hate their guts.

The Defenders of Humanitarian Behavior and Civilization. Their title is pretty much proof of how faggy these slave liberating pussies are. Somehow they got it in their thick skulls that they’re better than everyone else and that they are righteous enough to judge upon all matters of the wastelands. If they wanted to steal slaves and have ‘em for themselves: fine, bring it on. If they feel like randomly destroying things because they can, and enjoy it: fine, that’s who you are. But actually believing you’re above all others, taking upon the right to liberate in the name of some freedom that you claim is true to all… now that’s where they’re ticking me off. Still, to each his own, and again: bring it on. But the way they think, the way the talk, it makes me sick to my stomach and turns me into one furious motherfucker ready to rip out organs with my bare hands. And no one’s ever done that to me.

I see a banner hanging from a seven foot pole. It’s got a fist with bullets clutched between its fingers on it. This sign is a universally feared symbol of death, a signal of terrible tragedies that have befallen many towns, villages and farms. One day, this faction will control all of the wastes, it will be the ruling force behind anything relevant. These are the most powerful raiders known to man: The Umbringers. It’s my gang.

The entrance of a cave is becoming more visible every passing second. It seems abandoned and desolated, but once I get close enough, five guards suddenly appear from the shadows. They look at me from a distance and wait ‘til I’m even closer. Then they see me behind the wheel, and so they greet me by holding up their weapons.

I slowly cruise towards them and pull up. Two of them approach me, a broad bald guy and a smaller guard with long hair. James and Terry. I can barely open the door and get out before they start talking.
“Good to see you sir” James welcomes me with his booming voice.
“Yeah boss, long time no see” Terry says calmly, nodding his full head of hair.
“Good to see you guys too. So, what’s been happening lately?”
“The regulars,” James starts, “we got the earnings of the last three months, took down some Defenders, and we picked up some girls… most of ‘em are dead now though.”
“Did someone get the ammo?”
“Yes sir,” Terry answers, “Brian went out with two bags yesterday, horseback. He’ll be back anytime tomorrow.”
“Get another guy and let them both go back tomorrow, get some more.”
“Why? Are we expecting war?”
“Let’s get me and my cargo inside and I’ll tell you.”

We walk around the van and open the back doors, revealing the small fat fuck named Bernie, immediately recognized by James and Terry.
“Buh-hur-hurnie… you goddamn traitor” James smiles.
“Drag him inside without hurting him too much. And grab the sealed box of meat and the two kegs of beer as well” I command them, before I enter the cave, the home of The Umbringers.

There’s a dark and gloomy atmosphere in the hallways, it’s only lit by small light bulbs and torches. All the guys greet me as usually while I walk by, but my head’s on the automatic pilot: I smile, nod and answer, but I’m thinking about something else, I’m focusing on the matters at hand and how I’m to deal with ‘em. Then I get to the core of the cave, a big hall that’s well lit, filled with guards, weaponry, ammo, boxes of food, gasoline filled jerrycans and kegs of beer… our ‘earnings’ from the many raids we perform. I see true survival, I see the future, this is where I belong.

I walk towards the center of the main hall and see someone sitting in a chair, talking with two guards. He turns his face and notices me, then immediately stands up.
“Case, boss, finally” he greets me.
“Crimson. Gather the guys, I got some news.”

Crimson is my second in command. He’s still a bit young, twenty-five, but he’s seen his share of action. His youth was fucked up by a group of raiders that tore down everything he cared for in his village, and he instantly knew that those were the people with power. Almost everyone in the wastes fears the likes of us, and they should, because we realize that to obtain power, one has to reach out and grab it. Crimson ended up a street criminal with his mind set to a higher goal, and met me in Metro, dealing with a scumbag. He saw what I did to him, he saw me slicing up a man’s face in order to persuade him into giving me the money I needed. This guy cut up a prostitute, so he had to pay up for the damages. Crimson wanted to know who I was working for and why I was doing this line of work, and I told him the truth: because I can. We started talking and he ended up being the right hand of a clan leader after a year or so.

“Sure thing Case,” he answers, and he clears his throat. “Listen up!! Meeting at the core, ASAP!! Exterior security is to remain positions!! I repeat: core meeting, security remains!!”
All men shout, to spread the message. I walk towards the centre of the hall where a kingsize map of the wastelands is stuck on a blackboard. Within a minute, twenty men around rounded up and stand in front of me, they await whatever I have to say to them with a touch of enthusiasm, since meetings like these only occur before a great raid. There’s a slight buzz in the air, but the men quickly quiet down when I look at them.

“Kallen hired our service. Yesterday, he and I agreed on a big time hit, rewarded with a big time salary.”
Crimson stands next to me and has a dead serious look on his face.
“The Defenders are setting up camp near San Redino within three weeks.”
I see surprised faces, but they remain silent and disciplined.
“They are trying to interfere with the slave trading of SR, which is part of our very own business. We are to await their move. After they’re set, we come in guns blazing.”
Now the cheering begins. The entire group roars and shouts, it’s almost like a pack of wolves that spotted their target.
“The plan…” I start, waiting for them to calm down, “the plan is simple enough. They’re gonna set up camp at two locations, here and here,” I explain, pointing at the map. “The first target to attack will be the north-western camp. We place nine men inside Redino, the other eleven ride towards it at dusk. We’ll use the big armored vans and one truck. One will crash the truck into the camp, signaling the start for the nine inside town. The rest of us will be right behind him and open fire. Take out every last single one of them, even if they’re running for the sun, grab a vehicle or a horse and blow his fucking brains away. That is an order, got that?”
“YES SIR!!” they shout, grinning.
“Then we’ll go through the city and surround the southern camp, same deal here. All Defenders must die.”

All Umbringers are ecstatic, and right they are, the thrill of killing someone you genuinely hate is an experience that blows sex right out of the water. Sure a woman can do things to you with her mouth and ass, but when you see that look of desperation in your target’s eyes, that look that says ‘I can’t believe I’m gonna die’, a rush goes through your body and all you can die is smile with a vengeance. But as I’m commanding them to kill all of the Defenders, I hesitate a bit.
“But,” I begin, “anything that’s ranked a lieutenant or higher… try to leave ‘em to me.”
I look over their faces and see bloodthirsty hunger, a rage that needs subduing.
“Kallen is paying us twenty-k, so let’s do things perfect and earn us some serious cash.”

I nod at Crimson who understands my signal.
“That is all! Now, I will determine the units wh-”

I zone out, I walk away towards my room with other matters on my mind. As I enter a hallway, I can hear some groaning and moaning from the ‘female slave room’, a room visited often by many of my men. Quickly I have a peek to see how we are doing in this department. I open the door and I see three conscious women, feared to death, and five bodies of which I can’t directly determine if they’re alive or not. But they don’t shout, yell or scream, they don’t even speak. I decide to walk in and sit down next to the three ladies, who crawl away in fear. One of them seems to be protecting the other two, a brunette with lovely grey eyes. Kinda looks like… anyway…

“Hi” I say, but there’s no response whatsoever. “Where ya from?”
The brunette looks at me with fear and anger in her expression. I guess they’re not really trusting me since my men’ve been molesting them in all sorts of gruesome ways. It’s something I thought about, and it’s simply the best way to keep my men focused. I once walked into a town with some of my men, this was way back when we didn’t take home some dames, and all they could think about was getting a nice piece of ass to settle ‘emselves in for a couple of minutes. It sounds brutal, but there’s business to be done and I need my men ready for anything that comes our way.

So now I look into her eyes.
“Hey, don’t worry. Rape isn’t my style.”
“Who are you?” she asks while the other two are too afraid to look.
“Casey. This is my clan, or gang, or whatever you might call it. So, where ya from?”
“Rullik.”
“Rullik, that’s near Canyon Graves. I’m from a town near the Graves too.”
She doesn’t reply.
“This must seem very awkward to you, right?”
The girl nods.
“Hmm, yeah, figured as much. But trust me when I say I’m not going to lay a finger on you. I’m one of the few here with self containment.”
“O-okay…”
“You ever seen Metro?”
She shakes her pretty little head.
“It’s beautiful, you gotta see it sometime.”
I stay silent for a moment and have a look at her.
“So, any town you’d like to see? Something out there you’d like to do?”
Her eyes turn desperate for some reason. I see tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Please sir, don’t kill us. Let us go…”

I slap the bitch with the back of my hand.
“Fucking slut!”
Quickly I stand up and get out of the room. They’re crying, but I couldn’t care less.
“Goddamn sluts… fucking… all of ‘em.”

That’s how all women are, they’re whores. Everything for their own causes, feeding on others. Parasites. Walking openings waiting to be penetrated, that’s what they are.

I enter my office, a nicely dressed room with some decent furniture, and I take place behind my desk. Well, take place, I let myself freefall into my chair is more like it, then I take a good deep breath and sigh it all out. Every time I do this, I think of how it started, all this. Jason and Rico… fuck I miss them. We met on the streets of Metro and somehow we ended up one of the most powerful factions in the entire wastes. It feels weird, doing this without them. It’s like they’re constantly waiting for me, as if I’m just doing this to wrap things up, like turning off the lights and locking the doors. Somehow I’m doing this not because of me, at least, that’s what I feel like at first. But then I remind myself of how it all started and what we promised each other, what I wanted to do with this life. And I can’t let their deaths go to waste.

And then there’s Mona. Maybe I miss her even more, if that’s even possible.

Two knocks on the door.
“Case?”
It’s Crimson.
“Come in.”
He enters calmly and walks up to my desk, then has a look at me and starts talking.
“You okay chief?”
I stare at nothing and nod.
“You sure? ‘Cause you look like you’re thinking ‘bout something.”
“Just reminiscing.”
“About what?”
“The few good people I know.”
“Hey, we’re not much, but we stick by your side, wherever you go.”
“I know Crim.”
“But…?”
I smile and chuckle.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“No Case, what’s the matter, we need you on your toes, so be honest.”

That’s Crimson, that’s why I chose him as my second in command.
“I was just thinking about the past, how we got so far, the people we lost” I answer.
“Yeah, it’s a shame the good ones have to go. But that’s why we gotta keep on going.”
“I figured as much, still… Jason and Rico. I knew them my whole life and they’re gone because of our silly aspirations. That’s just what I was thinking about.”
“Hey…” he says, somehow making me look straight at him, “you’ll get your payback. Even if we have to slaughter all of the wastes, we’ll get ‘em back for you, I promise you.”
I look away and nod. Silence takes over the conversation and we both succumb to it for a few seconds.

“I’d like to get some sleep,” I tell Crimson, “you and the boys go and open some kegs.”
“Sure thing chief.”
“Oh, and make the sentries switch a bit sooner, tell ‘em all about Kallen’s deal.”
“Got it. Have a good one Case.”
He closes the door behind him, walks down the hall and starts talking with some of the men. I can hear ‘em chatting.

I grab a key and unlock a drawer from my desk, after which I open it. There’s a small piece of cloth with text on it, written in blood. I take it out and hold it tightly. It reads ‘HELP’.

Fuck, I miss you.

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http://thewastelands.wordpress.com/

Ungood

I tried to read most of it..Allow me to explain... there needs to be a flow to a person... a feel that they have... people don't do things because "It sounds tough" which is what Case is like... it is this collection of "Tough" to the point of being just beyond realistic...

Cold Hearted, Brutal, Skilled, Calm, Angry, Revenge Driven, all great qualities, but you need to follow a flow of a person.. what are people really like.. people are not "brutal and cold hearted" they contradict each other.

Also... You started to drop too many inconsistencies into this story that it began to lose that "realistic" feel of worlds like this... to many things that did not line up the environment that you have put out.

I know it is a trick.. and can be hard... but you have to have this Unifying feeling to things as you work though them...

Allow me to explain... just to give you an example...

Casey can not be Don's Favorite Merc in the sense that Don would do anything for Casey beyond "give him someone to kill" to Don, a thing like Casey is nothing but a tool or toy to be thrown away when it no longer is valuable.

Now... another part is Casey is either on the books (IE: an Employee) or he's Freelance.

If he is on the Books, he would not be hunting down Bernie unless Don told him to... if he was Freelance... there is no loyalty and thus Tank would ass rape Casey for messing with Bernie and Don would not get involved in this mess.. they are freelance merc's let them deal with their own issues.

Another thing... notice the way Casey treats life around him.. people are worthless... that is a common feeling among his group...

You don;t put that down enough... you make it that Life is Worthless to Casey, but then you say that Casey has some worth to someone like "Don" who also looks as people as "Things" and that kills the realistic feel of things.

The truth of your world would be that Don does not care if Casey gets himself killed, or if Tank ass rapes him, as there are hundreds more "tough guys" who would gladly take Casey's place... which is how Don should be looking at Casey... just a "thing" to get a job done... slab of meat that is a dime a dozen to him, not really anything of worth, in every sense of the word Casey is nothing but a whore on the street to a man like Don, Use him, pay him, then toss him away.

And you start to really loose the believability of the things as it dregs along ... while still making Casey seems too over the top...

The bit at the end to give him "Humanity" does not touch me... it does not make him Human.. it is like "Aww baby is the big tough bad ass going to cry now... what a wussy.. grow a set you ninny"

Ungood.

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Keono

Not true. Casey's the leader of the Umbringers and he has a very favorable relationship with Don. While the whole world is messed up and gone to hell, not everyone comes through, something Casey does with certain people he deems important enough. He's faithful to some (like Kallen and Don) because he has a dream that he wants to fullfill, and he needs the right kind of people to do that (something explained in a later episode/part).

First of all: the entire Bernie-thing has nothing to do with Don, it's a private 'quest' of Casey. And he isn't on the books with Don. He's the most faithful 'go-to-guy' for Don because they have a bit of history. Case receives some jobs from him because he needs the money for his dream/master plan, though he simply requested Donahue to give him some work without mentioning any of that. So whenever he is around, Don gives him a job. As for Tank: he works for Don, so this is why Tank won't 'ass rape' Case.

That's why people like Case, Don and Kallen get along. They don't think that ALL LIFE is worthless, they just think most people are weak and that they're fit to be exploited (which also is a metaphor at another level, but that kinda went over your head I guess =P). It's a circle of friends/collegues, they each do business their way and that's that. Some mob families, slavers or other major criminals collide (something for future episodes), but the people presented so far al have one thing in common: they're all on good terms with Casey.

And as for the last part: I never meant to make people feel sorry for him or to 'touch' the reader. It is meant to show that he is not just one who deals out some serious damage, he is also one who receives it. But that may differ for each individual reader, you interpreted in a whole different matter. Maybe because you were looking for matters that seem like faults, I don't know. I just sense that you're misunderstanding a lot somehow. Anyway, that's all I have to say about that.

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Ungood

For starters I am not "Looking for Faults" if that is the way you feel... please ignore my commentary and continue writing as you feel fit.

I am doing this as a kindness to you... I put out issues that "I" the reader would have trouble trying to fight though... things that do not line up and make for the story to lack believable appeal...

If you feel my commentary is off base or unfounded then so be it, ignore it and pass on, I am not going to debate or fight with you to help you correct your work.

If want me to slap out a mindless "Yah it's great..." I can do that too... no skin off my nose and take less time... as I don't need to pay attention to anything.

Ungood.

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Keono

No, I do not mean to bicker over this, I still welcome any critique. But I wouldn't want people misunderstanding it. And if someone misunderstands it and critizises it based on that view, then I should rather work on that, as opposed to changing the entire premise. But if it doesn't appeal to you in any sense, then that's a matter of taste I think.

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http://thewastelands.wordpress.com/

Ungood

....it's your story... write it as you see fit...

Ungood.

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