Back in the day, the oasis was a chaotic place. There was no set leadership, not until Hydra emerged as a force strong enough to exert his influence.
He didn’t have a lot of clout in the beginning, not until the mysterious stranger arrived. He agreed to act as a benefactor, and accepted Hydra as an autonomous hireling. The stranger would help him conquer the oasis in exchange for a half share of its spoils and products.
Hydra had trouble protecting himself in the harsh environment of the oasis. What purpose would it have served for him to compete with this mysterious stranger? He’d been so bereft of hope at the time that he hardly considered the deal before accepting.
The wasteland visitor proved to be powerful. He gave Hydra advanced weapons and support from many experienced mutant fighters. In a snap, Hydra’s influence expanded throughout the oasis and Greenland Outpost was born.
Hydra emerged as its ruler. And what of his promise?
Every month, the mysterious guest would appear in the outpost and every month, he would leave with half of their food and purified water. Hydra was a puppet, lording over the outpost in name only in service to this dark figure. Sometimes, it was painfully clear the stranger had a louder voice in the oasis than he did.
This enigmatic wastelander was undoubtedly the “demon”. Hydra had been cultivated to lead at his whim, managing the Greenland Outpost as an important fount of power and resources.
Hydra wasn’t interested in any bullshit ideals – he was only ever interested in wealth, power, and women. After years of enduring the humiliation of servitude, he was finding it difficult to endure any more of it.
Everything here – the women, the weapons, the food, the water – everything is mine! Who the fuck does that guy think he is? What right does he have to order me around? I am master of this outpost and only I can rule it! These agreements are pointless games.
In the Wastelands, power was the only voice that mattered. For years, Hydra had cultivated his supremacy and he was ready to stretch his wings. The seed of revolt had grown within him.
It was time for all of them to fuck off! Greenland Outpost didn’t need anyone and anyone who dared encroach on his territory was dead!
Even if he’d never met the demon hunters, Hydra was planning on making his move within the next six months. When Cloudhawk and this Bloodsoaked Queen appeared, Hydra was sure they could be useful to his plans. That was why he’d let them go.
Of course, Cloudhawk didn’t have any of this inside information. There was only one thing he was sure of, which was that these two men were bad news.
Hydra was ruthless and unprincipled, a person who killed without conscience and wantonly traded in human lives. His hands were covered in blood. To him, the lives of others meant nothing. Leonine wasn’t much better. He’d tricked scores of innocent people into coming to the outpost and sold them into a life of unthinkable torment. He turned people into commodities and playthings.
Yet in these wretched wastelands, how could one determine what was good and what was bad?
If one took the traditional view, then Mad Dog, Slyfox and Hydra were all scoundrels. Not one of them was worthy of pity or mercy. However, Mad Dog and Slyfox had saved Cloudhawk’s life more than once. To him, that made the two slain mercenaries good men.
The measure of a person in the Wastelands wasn’t their morality or their public image. Whether they were good or bad was determined in the hearts of those they met. A man was good to those he helped – he was a villain to those he hurt.
For now, Cloudhawk needed Hydra’s protection and the Bloodsoaked Queen needed his medicine.
Mantis had acquired the medicine they needed to treat the Queen at Cloudhawk’s behest. Still, he made sure to reiterate his earlier warning. “Her injuries are more than what typical medicine can heal in a short time. I need a dose of panacea.”
Hydra scowled. Panacea was a very special type of restorative medicine. It had to be purchased through special channels at great expense and only for a good reason. Panaceas were created through the use of superb techniques and high technology, distilling reagents extracted from mutated plants and animals to create a serum. This ancient scientific technology was all but gone from the world now, making panacea as precious as it was rare.
The thought of what it would cost was a painful one, but Hydra knew it paled in comparison to what he would earn if they helped him take control of the outpost.
A syringe nestled safely within a box was handed over. The liquid within was completely clear, like water.
What precisely was in the panacea was unclear, only that it was some substance extracted from mutated biology. Injecting it into a patient stirred his/her own restorative abilities. Healing would almost instantly increase seven to eight times its normal rate.
The Bloodsoaked Queen already surpassed the capabilities of a normal person and with the help of this syringe, her life would no longer in danger. After a few days, she would be mostly recovered, especially with the help of such a masterful wastelands healer like Mantis. He used natural remedies extracted from mutated plants to help her recover faster.
Hydra watched the Queen undergo treatment. “When are more demon hunters coming?”
He’d never been to the Elysian lands, but the demon hunters wouldn’t send just one of their number to stalk a fiend. Demons were typically extremely powerful and often surrounded themselves with mighty followers. It required a team of hunters and a well-thought strategy to successfully hunt one.
“There are no other demon hunters.”
“What are you saying?” Hydra’s face twisted into a scowl.
How phenomenally stupid did this girl have to be to make a decision like this? She’d come by herself to the wastelands, hoping to kill a demon? How was this any different from suicide? She could be twice as strong and it would still be moronic to think she could face the demon and all his power throughout the wastelands by herself!
Cloudhawk stood and answered for her. “When the Queen is fully healed, those three mutants the demon sent after us would no longer be a problem. What more help do we need?”
Hydra couldn’t dispute this assessment.
The Bloodsoaked Queen’s combat prowess was impressive. Hydra himself was about as strong as one of the demon’s lieutenants and he hadn’t been able to withstand her attacks. It spoke volumes as to how strong she really was.
An entire squad of demon hunters would have better chances, true, but it was important to remember that they didn't view the wastelanders as fellow humans. After they annihilated the sweepers, they could easily level the entire Greenland Outpost as well. It wasn't as though something like this had never happened before!
If there was only one, then so be it. As for Cloudhawk? Hydra didn’t take him into consideration at all.
Hydra retorted. “To avoid unnecessary trouble, you’ll stay here for a few days. I’ll arrange something for you.”
“Sir… hey boss.” One of the men dressed as a doctor hastily approached. “The girl’s condition is too severe. We don’t have any way to save her!”
Leonine heard the diagnosis and shouted at the man angrily. “What?! Say that again!”
These men were the best doctors the outpost could provide. If they said they couldn’t save his daughter, it was practically a death sentence.
However, Mantis had just finished treating the Bloodsoaked Queen. “Allow me to try.”
He saw a little girl lying in her bed, skin thin as paper outlining the bones beneath. A large fleshy growth was affixed to the left side of her neck – a tumor that threatened the poor child’s life. Only… the dangers of cutting it out were just as lethal, with the difficulty of such a procedure being beyond the capabilities of the outpost’s doctors.
“A minor matter.” Mantis pronounced his diagnosis after taking a glance in her mouth. He turned around and slapped one of the physicians upside the head before washing his hands and the instruments with a disinfectant. “You can assist me.”
Mantis didn’t care about how they felt. He was already working. He first cleaned the flesh around the tumor with the same solution before beginning to cut.
Cloudhawk, looking on, couldn’t help but admire Mantis. Not only was he an assassin that frightened enemies to the bone, he was also a stupendous surgeon. It was like his eyes could see through flesh and knew implicitly where healthy and diseased tissue lay. Every incision was precise to the tenth of a millimeter – as exact as a machine. He never made a mistake.
Soon, every trace of cancer and mutated skin was removed.
He applied the antiseptic solution to her wound and then cleaned his hands as though he’d done some trivial thing. “She’ll be fine as long as it doesn’t get infected.”
“Thank you!” Leonine, his voice shaking, fell to his knees before Mantis. “Thank you!”
Hydra was secretly shocked by what he’d just seen. Mantis was clearly a master pharmacologist, having created the antiseptic solution using only mutated ingredients from plants and animals. In addition, he was an excellent surgeon. Every slice from his scalpel was meticulous, perfect to the millimeter.
He had to be a very high level agility metahuman.
Mantis’s frontal combat abilities were likely less developed than Leonine’s, but under the cover of night, he could kill three Leonines. Assassins weren’t always the strongest, but they were undoubtedly among the most dangerous.
Cloudhawk was given a room nearby where he went to rest. It was a room about twenty meters squared in size with few in the way of luxuries. However, it was clean and tidy and had a bed and sheets. It was the nicest treatment he’d ever been given.
He found a place to hang up his cloak and took off his tattered wolf fur. Twenty to thirty wounds peppered his emaciated and unimpressive body. There wasn’t a part of him that hadn’t somehow gotten injured. Some wounds were still leaking reddish-purple blood.
It was hard to imagine how a waif like him could have endured so much punishment!
He’d been fleeing for days, a fugitive fighting for his life. When did he have time to worry about how he felt? Now, all of a sudden, it was hard for him to calm down as the pain and exhaustion washed over him. It was almost unbearable and it took all of his will to stumble over to the bed. He climbed up and fainted.
Fatigue… such absolute fatigue! And pain, gut-wrenching pain.
Cloudhawk felt like a whole mountain was crushing him. A thousand saws were cutting him apart and a hundred drills were tearing into his bones. He almost wished to die.
This torture persisted for a while until it eventually eased, only to be replaced with the feeling of being burned alive. Drills and saws turned into a hundred thousand flickering fires dancing along his flesh. Every muscle, every fiber burned.
What the hell was going on!?
Cloudhawk’s body began undergoing a series of positive changes. Although the process was agonizing, every cell in his body became more invigorated, more alive.
66 Uncovered
As dawn broke over the outpost, behind the hazy air, stars twinkled in the pale blue sky like a cloak of muslin. Shafts of sunlight fought through airborne sand and painted the landscape red like it was drenched in blood.
Hunters from the Greenland Outpost searched all night for their prey, to no avail. The light of day washed over the outraged faces of the mutant lieutenants – could demon hunters sprout wings and fly away?
Stranger Black and Longhorn watched the sun rise in contemplative silence, both acutely aware that something didn’t seem right.
“First Brother, Second Bother, look here. What is this?”
Vulture landed nearby, kicking up a cloud of sand and leaving long troughs where his feet met the ground. In his hands, he held the broken remains of a rapier, thin and exceedingly sharp.
Longhorn took it from him and scrutinized the broken weapon for a moment. “Is this Hydra’s sword? A clean break… no one in the outpost has the ability to do this. Where did you find it?”
“In the dungeons!” Vulture replied.
“The dungeons?” Stranger Black was silent for a time and then, his cold and raspy laughter emerged. “Hydra… oh Hydra. When this was over, we’d planned on removing you. It seems you were one step ahead of us.”
Longhorn flicked his wrist with enough force to warp the fracture blade. “The Bloodsoaked Queen had to have fought Hydra. He returned unscathed and she vanished into the night. This explains it.”
Vulture’s face bore a savage, hateful sneer. “I knew there was something off about that little shit. We should have killed him yesterday! We’ve searched everywhere except the fort. Hydra must be hiding the demon hunters there. We’ll kill our way in and cut off that snake’s head like we were planning to anyway.”
Hydra’s wild ambitions were not a secret to any of them. How could their master be blind to his betrayal?
Hydra had always been a puppet through which their master ruled Greenland Outpost. Now, this marionette wanted to take advantage of the chaos and become a real boy? It wouldn’t be as easy as he thought… but he’d gotten lucky. The appearance of the demon hunter in the Wastelands and her continuous assault on the master’s power forced their benefactor to be vigilant in case the holy city had set its eyes on him. Were it not for this troublesome woman, the master would have long since come himself to deal with Hydra’s betrayal.
Now was as good a time as any! He dared collude with these fugitives to betray them?
“Calm yourself, Third Brother. Hydra is no threat, but he has ruled here for eight years. Greenland Outpost has nearly ten thousand soldiers who follow his commands and we aren’t ready for a war with this place. It would be unwise to rashly instigate a conflict.” Stranger Black stared at the towering building through his gas mask. “Now that we know who the hunter’s friends are, we’ll report to the master. He will devise a plan to remove these thorns from our side.”
“First Brother is right,” Longhorn said with a nod. “We’ll make our move when the time is right. You should fix your impatient nature, Third Brother. We do important work for the master. Even the slightest carelessness could spell doom.”
Vulture answered with a chuckle. “Not an issue with the help of you two. I am the master’s knife. Anyone who dares oppose my brothers or the grand plan will find my talons buried in their heart, even if the fight grinds me to dust.”
Stranger Black and Longhorn silently shook their heads. No one questioned Vulture’s loyalty, but his bloodthirsty and impulsive nature was more suited to a soldier, not a leader. Sadly, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth and Seventh Brother were no longer with them. Three of them were discovered and slain by the demon hunter early on, while Fourth Brother died during the assault on Blackflag Outpost.
Ah, if all seven brothers were still here, what would they have to fear from Hydra – even with ten thousand fighters behind him?
Their greatest enemy was the Bloodsoaked Queen. They had underestimated this demon hunter, assuming her foolish and self-righteous solo crusade would be easy to put down. Because of her involvement, they had suffered, and much of the master’s plan was thrown into chaos. They could add Hydra’s early retirement to the list of things she’d spoiled as well.
But now, maybe they could fix everything all at once!
More than comfortable, Cloudhawk had never had a deeper night’s sleep. On the one hand, he’d been so exhausted that he was like the dead the moment he closed his eyes. On the other hand, he was secure in the knowledge that this was Hydra’s territory. No one would dare sneak into the leader’s territory to try to kill him in his sleep!
Simply put, when sleep overtook him, he forgot the evils of the world, the chaos and turmoil. He forgot everything, forgot himself.
He didn’t wake until noon the next day. Cloudhawk felt a strange sensation as he shook the grogginess from his head.
He best described it as though he’d shed armor he’d been
wearing for years. He felt light and relaxed beyond words, but also like someone who’d dunked his head in ice water. All of his confusion and uncertainties were gone. His mind was clearer than ever before.
His hearing was more acute. His vision was sharper.
From inside out, he felt remolded. His wounds itched as they healed at an accelerated rate. Scabs covering scrapes and cuts from days ago were already falling off. His deeper wounds had already knit themselves back together.
Cloudhawk knew he had excellent regenerative abilities, but not to this extent. Maybe these struggles had awakened his potential and spurred his abilities? What else could explain what in the world was happening to him?
Cloudhawk clambered out of bed and practiced the thirty-six postures he learned from the Bloodsoaked Queen. They felt more fluid this time, less intense. Though he started to tire by the eighth movement, he could still fight through it. Eleven, twelve, thirteen… fourteen… fifteen!
Every muscle in his body twisted in pain. He couldn’t take it anymore and was forced to stop, but he had, without question, progressed somehow after a good night’s sleep. The speed at which he was maturing was nothing short of astonishing.
The Bloodsoaked Queen had once said that if Cloudhawk could complete all thirty-six postures, even the likes of Mad Dog and Grizzly wouldn’t be able to stand against him. So far, he’d only managed fifteen, but he figured he was already a match for an elite soldier or a member of the best mercenary troops.
If people knew this, it would blow their minds. Wastelanders constantly battled hardships, trying to unleash their potential. Even the likes of Hydra rose through the ranks this way. However, it was usually a slow and painstaking process. Without some special technique, it would be impossible to make such dramatic improvements quickly.
Cloudhawk didn’t have the time to carefully examine every change he felt, for a stabbing pang in his stomach reminded him of how hungry he was. He reckoned he could eat a whole cow.
The Wastelander Page 49