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Okay, here are some more of Hanks escapades!
Look just a little down.
More down.
Little bit more.
_______________________________________________________________
Mutant Hunter- The Shaman’s Story
“Then chaos came and destroyed our tribal home, then it destroyed our warriors souls. It was seeking a conflict with the steel warriors of the angelic brothers to the west. These warriors were in-cased in pure metal, to protect them from demise as they fulfilled their sacred to rid the world of chaos.” The Shaman told the awe-struck children as he moved and waved his dark, raw hands around the flickering fire.
“They came from the east, a place called Neb Rask, an evil, unholy place filled with the demonic presence of the chaos. It is filled with the tortured and scarred screams of a thousand warriors and the spirits of entire tribes. We came from Neb Rask, before it was desecrated by the chaos.” He continued. The children were sweating and could not move as the shaman repeated the age-old story of their tribe.
“The chaos was not begotten in Neb Rask. A dark, cruel man, twisted by his own hate for all that is pure brought it into our existence. He was ripped into another form by the chaotic bile and his own dark hatred. After his demonic metamorphous he sook to create an army. He used tribe’s people to feed the chaos and make it grow into a dark cancer upon this earth.” He paused; looking at the children’s frightened faces. They were terrified; not only by the story but also by him and his two, disfiguring scars running across his wrinkled face.
Hank had left the Brotherhood several days ago and was nearing the mutant fort. The brotherhood had thoroughly equipped him; compass, binoculars, radio, ammo, a haircut, kevlar padding for his jacket and they had modified his M-16; now it had increased firing speed, increased accuracy and a small grenade launcher on the front. It also turned out that it wasn’t actually an M-16, it was a similar model but mutant sized, and more powerful. Its technical name was the M-22. The mutant base came into view and hank pulled out his binoculars. He couldn’t see any guards, except one at the corrugated iron gate. The gate guard was armed with a huge rusting Gating gun. The fort still looked makeshift and weak, it still had barely living, people viciously impaled, crucified or hanging around it on huge, wooden stakes, blood dripping from their mutilated corpses and it still disgusted him. Hank walked cautiously closer, looking all around often, waiting for an ambush of some kind. He came to about 200 metres of the base, and still nothing. He looked through his binoculars and slowly looked for any signs of mutants, other than the one at the gate. He carefully checked every watchtower, window, gap and part of the wall around the fort and saw nothing.
Hank waited until nightfall and then crept slowly towards the wall, checking every second for guards. He made it to the jagged, tin side of the fort and continued around towards the gate. He neared the guard at the huge wooden gate and pulled out his ripper. He snuck right behind the mutant, who was brandishing a massive Gatling gun. He flicked the switch and slashed the huge mutant’s throat in half a second, spilling hot blood on his jacket and the dusty sand. The dying mutant clutched its bleeding throat and fell into the cool sand, dead. He smirked, revelling in a second of ecstasy. He then raided it’s pockets, to find some ammo for the Gatling gun and a large, rusted key. Hank picked up the oversized key and began to search for a keyhole. He located one and inserted the key. He gave a huge pull, using all his strength. The gate creaked and loosened out a bit. He pulled back and it began to open, inch by inch. As soon as it was wide enough for him to enter, he equipped his M-16 (or M-22) and dived though the gap. He hit the sand and rolled into a crouched position, he was about to end the existence of as many mutants as he could, but there weren’t any.
Hank blinked. He rubbed his eyes. He stood up and began to search the abandoned base. There were no mutants, except for the dead corpse at the gate. Hank boggled. He shook his head and began to search for any indication of where they were. He began to explore the small fort for the strategic command centre, or a leader’s room. After about six minutes he located a small, sturdy, tin room with ‘SaRGe rOom! Cep ot!!!’ scrawled with dusty, white chalk on the door. Hank pushed the door open to reveal a small, dark, tin room with a simple desk made from a hunk of wood and small pieces of technology, cannibalised, dusty or broken on the floor and the desk. There was several, large, sandy plasma and laser weapons along the tin walls and on the desk were large maps. Hank walked over to the map and skimmed his eyes across them. They were well detailed geographically, mountains and such, but the cities and strategic markers were pretty simple pictures, a dot for cites, red X’s for brotherhood bases and blue M’s for mutant bases. Many crude arrows and lines were heading from the mutant bases towards the main brotherhood bases. Hank realised what was happening. The mutants were going to destroy the brotherhood.
“Then as the chaos charged upon the steel warriors palace, they let out green hell-fire from their dark implements of pain. The steel warriors fought bravely, but they had little hope for salvation. All of the chaos of Neb Rask was at the steel palace and the chaos was powered by hate and evil, of which there is much in this desecrated world.” The Shaman slowed his movements around the flickering fire down. One of the children opened his mouth, about to speak, but the Shaman continued his story.
“Then the Chaos began to rip its way through the place of steel and tear its soul to blackness. The Chaos consumed many of the Steel warriors and crushed their angelic armour, even though the steel soldiers fought bravely. Then as the chaos began to desecrate the palace of steel, a scarred hunter of the Chaos arose from the wastes. He had been ripped of all humanity by the Chaos but lived still, only to seek the Chaos and destroy it. He carried the weapon of vengeance, the shard bringer, a remnant of the before times, an end to the Chaos. The scarred Hunter purified the Chaos with the shard bringer, leaving only the red bile and skeletal remains of the Chaos.”
Hank ran across the wastes, sweat running don his panicked face. His radio got only static and he knew that the brotherhood couldn’t stand up to the entire mutant forces, even with their power armour, unless they knew and could make some kind of plan. Hank had to get to a brotherhood outpost soon.
The closest Brotherhood installation was the main brotherhood complex.
The moon was high in the wasteland sky and the stars where twinkling like angels. It was three in the dark morning and Cabot, the brotherhood door guard, felt himself falling asleep. His eyes closed slowly and his head tilted to the side. The other armoured guard turned her head and smiled. She sneaked towards Cabot, leaned over and shouted in his ear.
“CABOT! WAKE UP! THE BROTHERHOOD’S UNDER ATTACK!” Shouted the guard, restraining laughter. Cabot’s eyes sprung open and he aimed his weapon.
“AH!” He exclaimed. He looked around. “Not funny.” The other guard laughed though her massive helmet. Cabot rolled his eyes.
‘Why did I get stationed with Shannon?’ He wondered. Shannon stopped laughing. She stood still.
“Cabot…”
“What?” He asked, impatiently.
“Look…” She pointed towards the East.
Hank tore across the wind-swept sand, cold sweat streaming down his entire body. He knew what would happen if he didn’t warn the brotherhood. The mutant scum may be stupid, but they can follow orders from other mutant scum. And mutants don’t give up easily, they don’t tire and they don’t show mercy. Ever.
“OPEN FIRE!” Shouted Rhombus as the heavily armed mutant legion burst in through the elevator and fired in wild, raging bursts. Rhombus and his men returned fired on the mutants, causing multiple deaths. Brotherhood warriors with falling left and right, riddled with bullet holes and plasma blasts but Rhombus ignored them. Rhombus fired into the approaching mutant squad, watching the scarlet liquid burst out of their still-standing corpses as he riddled them with holes. He remembered why he loved combat so much, as he watched the mutants drop to the ground, the corpses riddled with holes. Suddenly a red steam of pain ripped through his ear and sent him to the ground, as the battle continued raging from above. He lay among the bloody corpses of his fallen troops. He looked at them and was suddenly petrified. So many of the honourable had fallen, just as fragile and weak as anyone else, and himself. He felt his mouth run dry. The mutants advanced, and his squad edged back, still letting forth thousand of rounds a second. Rhombus sat on the ground and the mutants advance towards him. As one of them aimed at him, he grabbed a NightHawk handgun from one of his soldiers mutilated corpses and emptied an entire magazine into the mutants ugly skull.
His squad backed around the corner. He was left in the stained, crimson corridor surrounded by his fallen comrades and a group of large mutants. They walked over to him, laughing and smiling.
“Look at the little man now. Hah!” A huge, grey mutant laughed as he aimed his minigun at Rhombuses power-armoured legs.
“Kill Him!” Shouted another, armoured one. The grey one pulled the trigger and let rip a steam of unending, burning hot lead. Rhombus shouted in pain as he felt his kneecaps shatter and his tibia crack. He began to drift into unconsciousness and passed out as the mutant legion continued its bloody assault on the remaining brotherhood personnel.
The all too familiar battle sounds echoed in Hanks ear as he stood, ready to kill, in the steel, blood-drenched, brotherhood lift. A human hand lay in the corner, and bullet casings were strewn everywhere. Blood was dripping off the walls. The elevator neared the forth floor where the mutants were currently attacking. Hank readied himself. The bloody, steel door slide open. Hank dove out, under heavy firing, into a raging battle between a legion of mutants and a weakened squad of Brotherhood troops. Brotherhood soldiers to his left, mutants to his right. He rolled into position and lay waste to the mutants. As he fired his M-16 into the mutant horde he screamed a raging battle cry. Mutants fell the ground; pumped full of lead as Hank bombarded them with bullets, cherishing every second. From behind him, an injured brotherhood soldier gave the ‘pullback’ order. Hank scremed an insane, raging battle-cry and ran at the mutants in an insane frenzy of rage and vengeance. He could feel the demons inside of him release themselves through his attack. He dove though the air, into the mutant masses, letting round after round blast it’s way into the vast horde of green and grey muscle. Hank landed in the centre of the horde and began to fight savagely with the butt of his gun and his teeth. He ripped a huge chunk out of a mutants arm, and the blood splattered across Hank’s body. The mutant roared as Hank tore off the flesh and swung his huge rifle at Hank.
“He ended all of the evil that Chaos had brought and then, continued the hunt, into the depths of Neb Rask, from whence the Chaos had been.” The Shaman smiled. The fire cast a hellish blow across his face.
“He saved the tribe from the Chaos. He saved us.” The Shaman repeated as the children sat, stunned and confused.
The desert sun was high in the sky as the survivors from the attack slowly travelled through the burning sand. There were about a hundred survivors, but here there were only twenty. Hank included. A ring of Brotherhood soldiers in damaged combat or power armour surrounded the non-combat personnel or injured. Hank lay, unconscious on a slow moving wooden caravan, pulled by a dying Brahmin. A streak of blood flowed down from his mouth and added to the dry blood splattered across his body.
‘Music’ Dun Dun Duh Dun Duh! Duhdun Duh! ‘End music’
Well, that was exciting! I wonder what will happen next? Maybe Hank will get a credit card? Will the wasteland illuminati successfully take over the world? Will I ever get my illuminati login working? Will Doritos still taste good after an apocalypse? Will Fallout on-line be good? Will YOU give me good feedback?
The Answer to these questions is undetermined (Except for the illuminati taking over the world, which will surely happen. Especially with ME as a member.Ah Ha HA HA HA!)
'Get away from her, you Bitch!'
-Sigourney Weaver, Aliens
Look just a little down.
More down.
Little bit more.
_______________________________________________________________
Mutant Hunter- The Shaman’s Story
“Then chaos came and destroyed our tribal home, then it destroyed our warriors souls. It was seeking a conflict with the steel warriors of the angelic brothers to the west. These warriors were in-cased in pure metal, to protect them from demise as they fulfilled their sacred to rid the world of chaos.” The Shaman told the awe-struck children as he moved and waved his dark, raw hands around the flickering fire.
“They came from the east, a place called Neb Rask, an evil, unholy place filled with the demonic presence of the chaos. It is filled with the tortured and scarred screams of a thousand warriors and the spirits of entire tribes. We came from Neb Rask, before it was desecrated by the chaos.” He continued. The children were sweating and could not move as the shaman repeated the age-old story of their tribe.
“The chaos was not begotten in Neb Rask. A dark, cruel man, twisted by his own hate for all that is pure brought it into our existence. He was ripped into another form by the chaotic bile and his own dark hatred. After his demonic metamorphous he sook to create an army. He used tribe’s people to feed the chaos and make it grow into a dark cancer upon this earth.” He paused; looking at the children’s frightened faces. They were terrified; not only by the story but also by him and his two, disfiguring scars running across his wrinkled face.
Hank had left the Brotherhood several days ago and was nearing the mutant fort. The brotherhood had thoroughly equipped him; compass, binoculars, radio, ammo, a haircut, kevlar padding for his jacket and they had modified his M-16; now it had increased firing speed, increased accuracy and a small grenade launcher on the front. It also turned out that it wasn’t actually an M-16, it was a similar model but mutant sized, and more powerful. Its technical name was the M-22. The mutant base came into view and hank pulled out his binoculars. He couldn’t see any guards, except one at the corrugated iron gate. The gate guard was armed with a huge rusting Gating gun. The fort still looked makeshift and weak, it still had barely living, people viciously impaled, crucified or hanging around it on huge, wooden stakes, blood dripping from their mutilated corpses and it still disgusted him. Hank walked cautiously closer, looking all around often, waiting for an ambush of some kind. He came to about 200 metres of the base, and still nothing. He looked through his binoculars and slowly looked for any signs of mutants, other than the one at the gate. He carefully checked every watchtower, window, gap and part of the wall around the fort and saw nothing.
Hank waited until nightfall and then crept slowly towards the wall, checking every second for guards. He made it to the jagged, tin side of the fort and continued around towards the gate. He neared the guard at the huge wooden gate and pulled out his ripper. He snuck right behind the mutant, who was brandishing a massive Gatling gun. He flicked the switch and slashed the huge mutant’s throat in half a second, spilling hot blood on his jacket and the dusty sand. The dying mutant clutched its bleeding throat and fell into the cool sand, dead. He smirked, revelling in a second of ecstasy. He then raided it’s pockets, to find some ammo for the Gatling gun and a large, rusted key. Hank picked up the oversized key and began to search for a keyhole. He located one and inserted the key. He gave a huge pull, using all his strength. The gate creaked and loosened out a bit. He pulled back and it began to open, inch by inch. As soon as it was wide enough for him to enter, he equipped his M-16 (or M-22) and dived though the gap. He hit the sand and rolled into a crouched position, he was about to end the existence of as many mutants as he could, but there weren’t any.
Hank blinked. He rubbed his eyes. He stood up and began to search the abandoned base. There were no mutants, except for the dead corpse at the gate. Hank boggled. He shook his head and began to search for any indication of where they were. He began to explore the small fort for the strategic command centre, or a leader’s room. After about six minutes he located a small, sturdy, tin room with ‘SaRGe rOom! Cep ot!!!’ scrawled with dusty, white chalk on the door. Hank pushed the door open to reveal a small, dark, tin room with a simple desk made from a hunk of wood and small pieces of technology, cannibalised, dusty or broken on the floor and the desk. There was several, large, sandy plasma and laser weapons along the tin walls and on the desk were large maps. Hank walked over to the map and skimmed his eyes across them. They were well detailed geographically, mountains and such, but the cities and strategic markers were pretty simple pictures, a dot for cites, red X’s for brotherhood bases and blue M’s for mutant bases. Many crude arrows and lines were heading from the mutant bases towards the main brotherhood bases. Hank realised what was happening. The mutants were going to destroy the brotherhood.
“Then as the chaos charged upon the steel warriors palace, they let out green hell-fire from their dark implements of pain. The steel warriors fought bravely, but they had little hope for salvation. All of the chaos of Neb Rask was at the steel palace and the chaos was powered by hate and evil, of which there is much in this desecrated world.” The Shaman slowed his movements around the flickering fire down. One of the children opened his mouth, about to speak, but the Shaman continued his story.
“Then the Chaos began to rip its way through the place of steel and tear its soul to blackness. The Chaos consumed many of the Steel warriors and crushed their angelic armour, even though the steel soldiers fought bravely. Then as the chaos began to desecrate the palace of steel, a scarred hunter of the Chaos arose from the wastes. He had been ripped of all humanity by the Chaos but lived still, only to seek the Chaos and destroy it. He carried the weapon of vengeance, the shard bringer, a remnant of the before times, an end to the Chaos. The scarred Hunter purified the Chaos with the shard bringer, leaving only the red bile and skeletal remains of the Chaos.”
Hank ran across the wastes, sweat running don his panicked face. His radio got only static and he knew that the brotherhood couldn’t stand up to the entire mutant forces, even with their power armour, unless they knew and could make some kind of plan. Hank had to get to a brotherhood outpost soon.
The closest Brotherhood installation was the main brotherhood complex.
The moon was high in the wasteland sky and the stars where twinkling like angels. It was three in the dark morning and Cabot, the brotherhood door guard, felt himself falling asleep. His eyes closed slowly and his head tilted to the side. The other armoured guard turned her head and smiled. She sneaked towards Cabot, leaned over and shouted in his ear.
“CABOT! WAKE UP! THE BROTHERHOOD’S UNDER ATTACK!” Shouted the guard, restraining laughter. Cabot’s eyes sprung open and he aimed his weapon.
“AH!” He exclaimed. He looked around. “Not funny.” The other guard laughed though her massive helmet. Cabot rolled his eyes.
‘Why did I get stationed with Shannon?’ He wondered. Shannon stopped laughing. She stood still.
“Cabot…”
“What?” He asked, impatiently.
“Look…” She pointed towards the East.
Hank tore across the wind-swept sand, cold sweat streaming down his entire body. He knew what would happen if he didn’t warn the brotherhood. The mutant scum may be stupid, but they can follow orders from other mutant scum. And mutants don’t give up easily, they don’t tire and they don’t show mercy. Ever.
“OPEN FIRE!” Shouted Rhombus as the heavily armed mutant legion burst in through the elevator and fired in wild, raging bursts. Rhombus and his men returned fired on the mutants, causing multiple deaths. Brotherhood warriors with falling left and right, riddled with bullet holes and plasma blasts but Rhombus ignored them. Rhombus fired into the approaching mutant squad, watching the scarlet liquid burst out of their still-standing corpses as he riddled them with holes. He remembered why he loved combat so much, as he watched the mutants drop to the ground, the corpses riddled with holes. Suddenly a red steam of pain ripped through his ear and sent him to the ground, as the battle continued raging from above. He lay among the bloody corpses of his fallen troops. He looked at them and was suddenly petrified. So many of the honourable had fallen, just as fragile and weak as anyone else, and himself. He felt his mouth run dry. The mutants advanced, and his squad edged back, still letting forth thousand of rounds a second. Rhombus sat on the ground and the mutants advance towards him. As one of them aimed at him, he grabbed a NightHawk handgun from one of his soldiers mutilated corpses and emptied an entire magazine into the mutants ugly skull.
His squad backed around the corner. He was left in the stained, crimson corridor surrounded by his fallen comrades and a group of large mutants. They walked over to him, laughing and smiling.
“Look at the little man now. Hah!” A huge, grey mutant laughed as he aimed his minigun at Rhombuses power-armoured legs.
“Kill Him!” Shouted another, armoured one. The grey one pulled the trigger and let rip a steam of unending, burning hot lead. Rhombus shouted in pain as he felt his kneecaps shatter and his tibia crack. He began to drift into unconsciousness and passed out as the mutant legion continued its bloody assault on the remaining brotherhood personnel.
The all too familiar battle sounds echoed in Hanks ear as he stood, ready to kill, in the steel, blood-drenched, brotherhood lift. A human hand lay in the corner, and bullet casings were strewn everywhere. Blood was dripping off the walls. The elevator neared the forth floor where the mutants were currently attacking. Hank readied himself. The bloody, steel door slide open. Hank dove out, under heavy firing, into a raging battle between a legion of mutants and a weakened squad of Brotherhood troops. Brotherhood soldiers to his left, mutants to his right. He rolled into position and lay waste to the mutants. As he fired his M-16 into the mutant horde he screamed a raging battle cry. Mutants fell the ground; pumped full of lead as Hank bombarded them with bullets, cherishing every second. From behind him, an injured brotherhood soldier gave the ‘pullback’ order. Hank scremed an insane, raging battle-cry and ran at the mutants in an insane frenzy of rage and vengeance. He could feel the demons inside of him release themselves through his attack. He dove though the air, into the mutant masses, letting round after round blast it’s way into the vast horde of green and grey muscle. Hank landed in the centre of the horde and began to fight savagely with the butt of his gun and his teeth. He ripped a huge chunk out of a mutants arm, and the blood splattered across Hank’s body. The mutant roared as Hank tore off the flesh and swung his huge rifle at Hank.
“He ended all of the evil that Chaos had brought and then, continued the hunt, into the depths of Neb Rask, from whence the Chaos had been.” The Shaman smiled. The fire cast a hellish blow across his face.
“He saved the tribe from the Chaos. He saved us.” The Shaman repeated as the children sat, stunned and confused.
The desert sun was high in the sky as the survivors from the attack slowly travelled through the burning sand. There were about a hundred survivors, but here there were only twenty. Hank included. A ring of Brotherhood soldiers in damaged combat or power armour surrounded the non-combat personnel or injured. Hank lay, unconscious on a slow moving wooden caravan, pulled by a dying Brahmin. A streak of blood flowed down from his mouth and added to the dry blood splattered across his body.
‘Music’ Dun Dun Duh Dun Duh! Duhdun Duh! ‘End music’
Well, that was exciting! I wonder what will happen next? Maybe Hank will get a credit card? Will the wasteland illuminati successfully take over the world? Will I ever get my illuminati login working? Will Doritos still taste good after an apocalypse? Will Fallout on-line be good? Will YOU give me good feedback?
The Answer to these questions is undetermined (Except for the illuminati taking over the world, which will surely happen. Especially with ME as a member.Ah Ha HA HA HA!)
'Get away from her, you Bitch!'
-Sigourney Weaver, Aliens
