A small flurry of snow blew through the empty wastelands, littering the place with a centimeter of snow when a large gun truck interrupted the silent badlands. The truck was huffing and puffing as it wheezed through the road and the metal plates holding it together had a sickly orange tinge to its complexion, signifying its aging life. Seated at the back were about two dozen children, their ages varying from seven to young teens. They were all cuddled together to keep themselves warm from the gripping cold that was leaking from outside. Only one child, a little boy, sat alone on a gunning placement located on the roof of the truck.

A tall teen climbed from below onto the roof and sat next to the little boy. The former’s chocolate skin was turning pale and his lips cracked as the snow-addled wind swept his face.

“Jason,” he said to the little boy. “Why don’t you head inside and warm yourself up? There’s no need to keep a lookout, those renegades won’t pursue us.”

“I know pops,” Jason said as he picked the binoculars that were hanging from his neck and peered into them. “I just don’t want to be ambushed again.”

“There was nothing you could have done,” Papa John sighed while massaging his temples. “Fuck, a whole platoon and a half, gone and only two squads got out. We’re definitely being sent to the Hooks.”

‘The Hooks’ was a nickname for a meat refrigerator that was refurbished into a room where the mercenaries punished anyone in their group. The name was given after the most severe punishment that was aimed at frightening the children. The victim would be hung on meat hooks and beaten by a rod before being left in isolation, hanging for days before being let off. Injuries were hard to heal despite technology advancing so the mercenaries wouldn’t hang them directly but tie them and hang the ropes onto the hooks.

Jason said nothing and instead continued monitoring the situation around them. He was the only one that was never sent to the hooks because he was too effective of a killer to be given a reprise. Most of his time was spent on the battlefield, slaughtering anyone that raised a weapon at him.

“Heads up, guys! Radio is picking up chatter,” a child’s voice crackled through a walkie-talkie that John had on his hip. “I’m guessing they’re coming from that small town up ahead, eight clicks to the east.”

“Fatty Lui cut off the engines and come to a full stop. Don’t let them detect us!” John said as both he and Jason focused their binoculars towards the area that Lui indicated. The ruins of a town came into their views. Once, that town would have had a population of over five thousand civilians but now only refugees and pillagers remained in that desolated place.

“Over there,” John indicated to Jason.

A number of refugees were running away from a squad of armed marauders. The chaos of the war bred smaller groups of armed criminals who lived to loot and kill anything near them. This small squad had about 15 people, each armed with assault rifles and escorted by an improvised tank. Currently, the bandits were shooting people in the legs and watching them attempt to crawl away from the tank that was trying to run them over.

“Fucking marauders,” cursed John with gritted teeth before he climbed down the hatch into the back of the trunk. A young boy, around twelve of age, squeezed his large body through the group to meet John. “We’ll take a detour and avoid them. God help those people.”

“Well? How bad is it?” the boy, Fatty Lui, asked John with slanted eyes that showed his concern.

“Just a bunch of fuckers using civies as targets,” answered John as Jason climbed down from behind him. “And as much as I’d like to take’em down, we can’t.”

“But pops,” Lui began.

“No. We lost enough men as it is and I can’t risk us losing anymore even … even if it means innocent people dying.” John interrupted firmly.

“Jason?” Lui turned to Jason and asked him pleadingly.

Jason turned and looked through a weapons bay, a narrow slit in the armored truck that was used for shooting enemies, and towards the town. A moment later he turned to Lui, his empty eyes staring at him impassively.

“Fatty, I’ll need Trevor,” he said.

“It’s Tavor, Ta-vor!” retorted Lui.

“Trevor with just a foregrip, nothing else,” continued Jason.

“You sure? No sights?” asked John. He didn't even try to stop Jason because he knew it wouldn't work.

“No, just two clips. One with the ordinary and another with i-rounds,” replied Jason as he picked two grenades and placed it on his hips. He then took the gun from Lui and looked it over. It was a bullpup assault rifle called a T-21, an old weapon made over a century ago that was restored by Lui during the past few months. Despite its vintage status Jason preferred using this rifle over the relatively newer rifles most others were supplied with, simply because it fit him like a glove.

“Be careful, it’s locked on semi-auto. You wouldn’t want the i-rs to implode in the barrel, right?” Lui advised Jason as he climbed to the roof of the truck.

“Jason!” John called, stopping Jason who looked down. “Come back in one piece.”

“You go on ahead, I’ll catch up with guys,” Jason said as he exited the truck. Taking a deep breath, he calmed his mind and launched himself off the truck, running as fast as he could towards the town.

“Alright enough sleeping! Let’s get a move on. Now!” John yelled as the truck started moving again and he looked at the distant figure who was still running. “Godspeed, Jay.”

***

“Haha! Look at them scurry. Run, bitches, run!” a bandit shouted while sitting atop the tank, shooting at the fleeing people.

“This is too easy,” another one complained.

“That’s the way it’s supposed to be, dumbass. You wanna go and get killed? Sign up for the fucking war then,” a third one, the leader, shouted. He had a scarf covering the bottom of his face and a submachine gun. “Don’t shoot the girls, we’ll need’em tonight!”

The other marauders laughed at what their leader said as a young girl cried while trying to drag her father’s body away from the approaching tank. The leader gestured to the marauders to grab the girl when a shot was fired. Blood, splattered with white matter, painted the tank as the leading marauder collapsed with a chunk of his head blown off.

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Jason, who sniped the leader, jumped out of the debris he was hiding behind and started running while shooting. Two more were hit multiple times by his shots before the marauders started firing back at him.

Jason dodged by leaping forward and bending into a crouching position and fire two more times, taking down another two before running away again as the tank moved to fire on him.

“Shit, you three follow me!” a marauder took charge and led three others to pursue Jason who had disappeared behind a building while signaling another three to circle around the building and pincer attack him.

Jason paused to catch his breath and reload his now empty rifle.

Thirty shots left, He thought. Gotta make them count.

Bullets flew past him as he ducked his head; the four pursuers had caught up to him and were shooting at him while the other group closed in. Jason ran sideways before jumping into the air and, as he flipped, he shot at the leading marauder. Two bullets hit him square on the chest before his body was completely ignited in flames. Screaming, the marauder tried to put out the fire but was incinerated from the inside of his body.

“Incendiary rounds! Shit!” one of the pursuers shouted before being hit too.

As he burned, the group of three wanting to ambush Jason quickly ran to rescue the remaining two marauders that were engaging with him. Jason, locating them through their footsteps, threw a grenade at the newcomers before running out of cover and shooting one more pursuer. The last one ran back to the tank as the grenade detonated and killed the three others.

As Jason followed him, he was exposed to the other gunmen who started firing at him. A bullet hit his arm and he used the momentum of the shot to roll away and hide behind a cover. A savage light gleamed through his eyes and he snarled with gritted teeth, the wound somehow causing him to become bloodthirsty. Running out of cover, Jason fired wildly but missed all his target as the clip emptied out.

“Out of ammo, light’em up!” the marauders realized he was out and ordered the tank to fire at him but refused to come out of cover themselves in fear that it was a trick.

As the tank turned its recoilless gun on him Jason grinned ferociously and threw the last grenade he had into the air. As it came down, he spun to gain momentum and kicked the grenade onto the tank and it accurately slipped through the gaps between the gunning placement and the armor, falling straight into the vehicle.

An explosion ripped through the air and caused everyone nearby to be flung into the air. One bandit tried to pick himself up when Jason appeared overhead and fell directly on him while stabbing his rifle’s barrel into his eye. As the bandit withered on the ground screaming, Jason ran up to another one and leaped to his head.

In an instant, he bit into the marauder’s throat and pulled his head back, ripping his throat out. Jason spat a chunk of flesh out of his mouth as the latter grasped onto his throat in an effort to staunch the blood, the sickening wheezes leaking through his throat made more apparent in the silence. Jason looked towards the third gunman but found that he already died from the explosion, his mangled body almost unidentifiable to a human.

The remaining bandit was still screaming as Jason approached to finish him off. Kicking the bandit in the crotch, Jason sat on his chest and held his head with both hands while digging his thumbs into the bandit’s eyes, crushing his remaining good eye. Still gripping the sides of his head, Jason slammed it downwards multiple times before taking a rock lying on the side.

Lifting it with both hands, Jason repeatedly used the rock to smash the bandit’s head in; blossoms of blood splattered onto his feral looking face as he continued pummeling him. Soon, the head caved in as brain matter began oozing out of the cracks.

Tired and bleeding, Jason stopped and dropped the rock as he tried standing up, his wobbly legs almost giving out.

Need … to … get … to … safety…

Jason’s vision blurred as darkness came to greet him and the ground slapped his face, his consciousness leaving him.

***

Jason bolted up, pushed the arm that was stretching to him away and used his other arm to choke the person. His blurry vision soon cleared and he saw that he was holding an old lady by the throat. Her silver-gray hair was pulled back into a tight bun and her spotted skin had a tinge of brown from being sunburnt. Seeing her as no threat, Jason released her and looked around.

Currently, he was lying on a thin sheet made from burlap, right next to a fire while other refugees nearby camped among themselves. There was quite a distance from where Jason and the granny were sitting and the other refugees who avoided eye contact with him.

“Where am I?” he asked the granny.

“Outside the city, dearie. It was too dangerous to stay there and we couldn’t just leave you now, could we? Not after you saved us,” the granny replied in a shaky voice while she smiled gently at Jason.

“We?” sneered Jason sarcastically as he looked around.

“You’ll have to forgive them, dearie,” the granny sighed as she stirred a small pot that was over the fire. “We are simple folk, not forged by the fires of war. Witnessing you killing those men frightened them.”

“They should be scared,” said Jason nonchalantly. “After all, I am a monster.”

“Oh, don’t say such things,” the old woman reprimanded while swinging her wooden spoon around. “They are much more frightening creatures out there, and a young boy like you is not one of them.”

“Well I want to be one,” Jason said, an odd feeling welling up in his chest. This was actually the first time he spoke so much to a stranger. “It takes a monster to fight a monster, and I want to be the strongest. I will be the strongest.”

“To do that you’d have to frighten the monsters to death, dearie,” the granny replied. She put some watery soup into a tin bowl and handed to Jason before looking up to the skies and sighing. “There’s a story from where I come from about a monstrous wolf called Fenrir. He was like the god of wolves and his strength was so great that even the gods, the Aesir, feared him.”

“What happened to this Fenrir?” asked Jason after a moment of silence.

“Like most gods, the Aesir feared what they cannot control. They tricked Fenrir and chained him with a magical collar before locking him away for what they believed to be an eternity. However, it was said that Fenrir would one day free himself and swallow the world along with the Aesir in his wrath.” the granny finished her story while drinking the soup in her bowl.

Jason looked downwards, his thoughts on the story while the granny silently watched him contemplate. Finally, he put his bowl down and lifted himself up.

“Thank you, granny,” Jason said. “But I have to leave now.”

“Hold on to that belief, dearie,” the granny called out as he walked away. “That conviction to be the strongest. Perhaps it will keep you alive as you journey onwards.”

The granny watched Jason leave before putting out the fire and waving her hand. Like magic, everyone near her collapsed onto the ground as though they were puppets who had their strings cut off.

“What a cruel world, to create such a bloodthirsty child. I like it!” the old lady lamented at the beginning before cackling maniacally, her laughter changing half-way to a seductive young laugh. Her body slowly straightened and she became tall while her loose, wrinkly skin slowly tightened and became smooth and soft. The band holding her hair together fell apart as her hair became more voluminous and black, the hair slowly blanketing her seductive face as it reached her waist. Her skin changed to a devilishly red tone as her lips darkened to a blackish color. Her eyes also evolved as her sclera turned black while the iris became a glowing yellow color and the pupil elongated vertically to resemble a snake’s.

“Mmm,” the unknown being moaned. “We’ll meet again Fenrir, very soon we’ll meet again. I can’t wait to see how much you’d have grown by then.”

The being almost seemed to be sexually aroused before she frowned, turning her head to look at the refugees that were still unconscious.

“Still, what a sore sight these insects are,” she hissed, her forked tongue licked her lips as she narrowed her eyes, killing intent evident within them. “Ignoring their savior and thinking only of escape. Though, I must be thankful. Had they shown him gratitude it would have been more difficult for me to … bond with him. Very well, I’ll let them live. For now.”

The being turned to look another direction, her sight expanding past the mountains and seas to finally rest on a floating city.

“Sanctuary,” the being whispered sensually. “I’ll be waiting for you there, my little monster.”

As she spoke the wind picked up and blew the snow laying on the ground upwards obscuring her figure before slowly falling back down. But as the snow cleared, not a trace of her could be seen; it was as though that being never existed …