Callused
A hazy memory. Jean-Paul lays unconscious on an operating table. Two masked male surgeons stand above him with a single bright light shining between them.
Surgeon 1: An emotional inhibitor?
Surgeon 2: Yes. Two chips. One in his chest to monitor his heart rate, and the other in his brain to stem the release of the necessary chemicals.
Surgeon 1: You think this will keep the nodes dormant?
Surgeon 2: For the time being. It’ll keep the nodes from activating in his day to day. It should keep those around him safe.
Surgeon 1: Isn’t that what his sword was supposed to accomplish?
Surgeon 2: His sword only siphons the power of the nodes. It prevents his body from getting corrupted, while giving him all the benefits of the nodes’ powers.
Surgeon 1: How is it possible that something like this exists? This tech is like nothing I’ve ever seen.
Surgeon 2: We’ll have to figure that out in due time. Our job is to fit him with the inhibitor and begin the indoctrination process. This specimen here is more advanced than Nevo-Corp biomechanics or END.EXE code, so figuring out how it works will advance our studies greatly. I’m just glad it’s under our control. The inhibitors will keep his powers dormant so even if we can’t convert him, he won’t be able to use them against us.
Surgeon 1: You think that will work?
Surgeon 2: Of course I do. It would take a severe emotional response to override these chips.
Current day. JP stands across the Iron Raider’s camp, glaring daggers at the immortal warlord, Bozan the Butcher. His eyes burn scarlet as his intense hatred flows through himself, out towards his menacing red steel serrated sword.
JP: I don’t care how many times I need to cut that smile off your face! I’M GONNA KILL YOU!!!
Bozan: It’s been too damn long since I fought someone with this energy. I’m droolin just thinkin bout it!
JP roars and charges forward.
Leva dashes through the field of raiders. Using the blades mounted on her arms, she dispatched them one by one. Her blade is caught by a crowbar held by a larger raider. She responds by sneaking her leg behind him and tripping him to the ground. She plunges her right blade into his skull. She takes a moment to kneel. Catching her breath and reassessing the battlefield.
Leva: (IM) 12 remaining. I should be down to 8, but I’ve been woefully inefficient. Mental note to up my training.
A deep reptilian roar shakes the ground beneath Leva’s feet.
Leva: Oh, fuck me…
The remaining raiders look up in horror as a large shadow looms over the woman responsible for slaughtering their comrades.
Raider: A-Rex! RETREAT!
The raiders flee for their lives. Leva turns around to see a giant grey reptile rivaling the height of a 4-story building ripping through the remaining raiders. It shares many similarities with the prehistoric Tyrannosaurus Rex. But unlike its long forgotten relative, the Apocalyptus Rex has the massive muscular arms of a gorilla. The titanic beast balls its opposable fist and slams it down at Leva. She hits the thrusters of her drone pack and jets away.
Leva: Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.
She feels its other massive hand grab hold of her ankle.
Leva: SHIT!
It drags her over head, slamming her into the dirt of the wasteland. Her glasses shatter on impact and fall away as she’s lifted into the sky again. The A-Rex unhinges its cavernous maw. Leva looks down at the fuzzy image of razor sharp teeth. She grits her teeth, reaching back and detaching the jetpack drone. She activated the thrusters and the drone nosedives, kamikaze-ing into the A-rex’s snout. The drone explodes, causing the beast to loosen its grip and allowing her to drop. She rides down the scaly body of the beast until returning safely to the ground. She cradles her injured shoulder, her breathing is sporadic as she stares down the A-rex.
Leva: (IM) Best course of action. RUN!
JP screams, driving his sword into the heart of the Butcher. He sprints forward at bullet speed, slamming Bozan through every tent on his way to the outer wall. Blood splatters as the back of Bozan’s skull cracks against the unforgiving iron wall. Bozan smiles, almost basking in the fire of JP’s hatred. He peels his shattered skull off the wall, looking down at the fuming swordsman. The gash on the back of his head closes.
Bozan: Come on, boy. If you’re gonna kill me, you’re gonna have ta try harder than that!
JP pushes his sword further into Bozan’s chest. The iron wall behind him begins to creak under the weight of unfettered hatred. The metal strains, bends, until finally caving. The metal explodes with a sound rivaling a canon. Bozan is flung out of the camp and into the wasteland. He skips limply across the dune, skidding to a stop, creating a trench in his tracks. JP dashes across the sands, wasting no time arriving at where Bozan now lays. He raises his sword high above the warlord’s chest and plunges down. Blood splatters onto sand as JP hears the haunting sound of metal scraping through bone. He knows he can’t let up. He raises his blade and plunges it again and again until the Butcher’s caved chest resembles minced meat. JP looks down with disdain as his cells have already started reconstructing his chest. He shakes the blood off his sword as he catches his breath. He raises his blade again to begin another onslaught. His blade is stopped by Bozan’s hands reaching up and gripping the blade. His chest reforms completely. Bozan looks up and smiles. JP struggles to free his blade. He rips his sword free and retreats to the distance. Bozan shambles to his feet. His shoulders bounce as he laughs under his breath. He grips the tattered holes in the chest of his leather armor and tears what remains off his chest. JP feels a sharp pain in his heart. He drops to one knee as blood shoots out of his mouth onto the sand below.
Bozan: HAHA! Yer gonna kill yer self LONG before ya ever kill me, boy.
JP: (IM) Dammit! Letting my emotions run wild like this… I was stupid to think I could kill him in such a short amount of time. I can already hear Leva lecturing me…
Bozan: What happened ta that fiery disposition, boy?! I thought you was gonna do what god couldn’t! C’mon, boy. Kill me! I’ll even give ya a free shot!
Bozan stands with his arms wide open. The color of his sword begins to fade.
Bozan: What’s wrong? You were so confident just a moment ago. Did it finally set in? I’m the fucking GOD of this wasteland!
JP weakly lifts his head to watch the greasy warlord gloat. He finds himself unable to properly feel angry anymore. The hollow feeling in his heart returns as the emotional inhibitors regain control. His sword has returned to its normal grey steel. Bozan’s bare chest rises and falls as he cackles to the heavens. JP notices something while staring at his chest.
JP: (IM) Are those?
He focuses on the center of his chest and notices scar tissue where it had previously been caved in.
JP: (IM) Scars?
JP pulls himself to his knees. Bozan stops his gloating to look at him.
Bozan: You’re still movin? Might as well put ya out of your misery.
Bozan stomps towards the slumped JP. He grabs him by his throat and pulls him to his feet.
Bozan: Ya gave it yer all. I’ll give ya that. I might even remember ya.
JP: Remember me… In hell!
JP exerts his reserve strength to stab his sword through Bozan’s chest.
Bozan: That’s cute.
JP swipes his sword through Bozan’s right arm, causing him to release the stranglehold he has on the swordsman. JP falls back to the ground. The gash that runs from Bozan’s chest through his arm heals quickly, leaving a thick ridge of scar tissue.
JP: (IM) That’s it.
JP plants his sword into the ground and pulls himself to his feet.
JP: If I can’t kill you, I’ll just have to make the rest of your life as uncomfortable as possible.
Bozan: And here I was worried the fun was over.
Bozan reaches into the front of his pants and pulls out a steel hilt. He presses a button and a long thin blade springs out, rivaling the length of JP’s.
Bozan: Let’s end this like men!
Leva: Oh shit, oh fuck, oh shit, oh fuck…
Leva sprints across the desert wasteland having gotten a decent head start on the titanic A-Rex. The beast sprints after her on all fours, using its scaly gorilla arms for speed.
Leva: (IM) At this pace that beast will catch me in less than two minutes. Even if I could out run him, I’m covered in the scent of jet exhaust. It’ll follow me to the ends of the earth. I need to find a way to-
Leva trips on the unsteady sand and topples to the ground. The giant lizard advances quickly and is above her in seconds. She looks up at the apex beast.
Leva: (IM) I miscalculated this entire plan. Dammit…
The A-Rex reaches down to grab Leva.
???: Aim! Fire!
Shots like canons ring out from the crest of the dune. Dozens of dense iron balls the size of bowling balls soar through the sky like birds. Most collide with the lizard, blasting holes through its thick skin. The monster shrieks as its body is torn to shred by the cannonballs. The last shell splinters its shin and it crumbles to the ground. Leva stares in disbelief at the fallen beast. She looks at the dune behind her to see a platoon of tanks advancing towards her, waving the flag of The Capital.
Leva: Fuuuuuuuck.
She groans as her face falls to the sand exhausted.
Two swords clash against the setting sun of the wasteland. JP nudges Bozan’s weapon away and swings his sword clean through his chest again. As soon as the sword leaves his body, the wound heals, leaving another gnarly scar. They collide swords again. Based on his form, it’s clear Bozan isn’t an experienced sword fighter. JP bats away the sword again, giving him another swipe across the chest opposite the first, creating an X across the mad man’s chest. Bozan lifts his foot and boots JP in the center of his chest, sending him flying backwards. He chases after him, sword raised. JP recovers and Bozan flies towards him. JP swings his sword at Bozan’s hips, separating his torso from his legs momentarily before his healing takes effect. JP plants his foot and turns around. He strikes at Bozan’s sword arm, cutting it at the shoulder, elbow, and wrist. The skin grows back thick and scarred. Bozan turns around to face his opponent. He looks down at his arm and growls.
JP: What’s wrong, Bozo? Not as limber as you used to be?
Bozan: You think you got me all figured out?!
JP: It looks like those cells are a little too perfect. Each slash you take is creating more tissue. It’s weighing you down and gumming up your joints.
Bozan snarls, having been bested by his own god-like ability. His angry eyes meet the lethargic eyes of his opponent.
Bozan: Wipe that smug look off yer face!
JP: You know. This whole time we’ve been fighting I had this nagging thought in the back of my head. About how many times in my life I could have ended up like you. A test subject driven insane by the experiments done with their body. With my emotions numbed, I could see myself living the comfortable life of a cold hearted killer. I almost was until The Wasted stopped me. I didn’t understand why they would waste so much effort into helping people, and I still don’t, honestly. But every time I go out for a run with them, I try to piece it together. Even now, I’m trying to understand why I stick around with them. But every job I do, I learn a little bit more.
Bozan: Why the fuck are you tellin me this? This fight ain’t over! Not by a long shot!
JP: I know, I know. But you’re not scary now that I know your weakness. As a sword fighter you’re about as impressive as Wool-hoof shit. And I guess that’s what I’m trying to say. I figured out the reason I haven’t ended up like you. A heartless killer who let what made him powerful prevent him from being human. I look at you and I just see a sad existence. Unfulfilling. Unsatisfying. I see the life you live and it’s just… Pathetic.
Bozan: Pathetic?! I live like a king in this blistered shithole! The only pathetic person here is you! Talkin bout yer feelins like a little girl. THAT’S FUCKIN PATHETIC!!!
Bozan charges. JP parries the sword and cleaves his sword clean through Bozan’s head.
JP: Why? Because you think emotions are a weakness?
Bozan’s head repairs itself. He roars and takes another swing. JP steps back out of the attack's range and slices through both Bozan’s legs, causing him to lose his balance.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
JP: Emotions aren’t a weakness. Girls aren’t weak either, but that’s not really the point here.
Bozan’s legs reform before he falls over. He foams at the mouth with rage as he takes another stab.
Bozan: JUST SHUT UP ALREADY!!!
JP catches the sword by the hilt, using his own to slice through Bozan’s fingers to pry it from his hands. JP dashes back now with both swords.
JP: When I saw that woman that you... You ruined… I felt real emotions for the first time in years. That boiling rage… That wasn’t weakness.
Bozan: I don’t give a shit! YOU’LL BE DEAD LONG BEFORE I AM, BOY!!!
Bozan sprints at JP at startling pace. The young fighter takes a deep breath. He unleashes a flurry of strikes with both swords, each cutting cleanly through Bozan’s body. The cuts heal before they even form leaving his body scarred beyond reason. Even with the speed of the strikes, the feral mug of the warlord advances. Despite his offense, JP finds himself retreating. He feels the iron wall of the fortress against his back, quickly followed by the crown of Bozan’s head kamazi-ing into his sternum. The force was enough to crack Bozan’s skull on impact. They both collapse to the ground. JP clutches his stomach, gasping for air. Bozan returns to his feet first as his head and neck reconstruct itself. He looks down at the fallen fighter. JP looks at the deep ridges all around the warlord’s body. The deep scars stitching together his haggard sleazy grin.
Bozan: I’ll admit, boy. You do not fuck around.
He grabs JP by the throat and lifts him to his feet. JP winces in pain.
Bozan: And to think… All that talk o’ not feelin nothin. You sure as fuck felt that! Ha! You should be thankin me, boy. What I’m gonna do ta ya… I’m gonna show ya what fear feels like…
Another memory is triggered. JP is sitting in Dr. Rivers’s shack getting a gruesome wound on his arm cleaned and stitched. He winces as the doctor makes another stitch.
JP: Hey, not so rough.
Dr. Rivers: So you do feel pain.
JP: What? Of course I feel pain. Physical pain isn’t an emotion.
Dr. Rivers: Well the way Leva’s report described you running into the collapsing hospital made it seem like you thought you were invincible. You’re lucky you didn’t get hurt worse.
JP: The job depended on what was in that hospital. No one else was gonna go in, so…
Dr. Rivers: So you fearlessly rushed in and saved the day. Yes, and you’ll have quite the scar to remember it by.
The doctor snarks as he makes another stitch. JP winces and clenches his fist.
Dr. Rivers: Fascinating… You experience the pain, but the inhibitor makes you indifferent to it. All of your reactions are purely instinctual.
The doctor punctuates his point by prodding his fingers into the open wound. JP grits his teeth holding back a cry of pain.
JP: Would you cut that out? I’m not your test monkey.
The doctor pulls his fingers from the wound and wipes his hand.
Dr. Rivers: That is true… But if you’re ever interested I would love to test how your emotional inhibitor interacts with a human's instinctive aversion to death.
JP deadpans towards the doctor.
JP: You sure are a weirdo, Doc.
Dr. Rivers: You call it weird now. But it would be useful to know if you’re ever near death out in the wasteland… Just keep my offer in mind.
Back in the wasteland, JP finds himself held up by the dangerous warlord. Bozan presses his back against the fortress wall, slowly compressing his windpipe.
JP: (IM) I never did take Doc up on that offer. For whatever reason letting that guy push me to the brink of death didn’t seem like a good idea, emotions or not… If I get out of this alive, I’ll have to tell him my findings.
A heartbeat rings out from JP’s chest as he feels Bozan’s strong hands squeeze his throat.
JP: (IM) How does a man with no emotions react to death?…
A murky black aura radiates from his body.
JP: (IM) Does he remain indifferent?
His fist clenches the sword in his right hand. The energy is conducted into the large weapon as it begins to change shape and color.
JP: (IM) Or does instinct overtake him?
The grey steel breaks away revealing a new thin dark purple blade.
JP: (IM) No matter how hard you try to bury emotions…
Bozan: What the?
JP: (IM) …All life fears all death.
JP’s eyes suddenly snap open, now purple and primal.
Leva sits disheveled in a rusted truck bed leading the platoon of tanks back over the ridge. Her arms and legs are bound. As the thunderous Capital convoy is about to crest the dune, a sonic boom erupts on the other side. A cloud of dust can be seen over the hill and the ground shakes underfoot. The tops of the tanks open as soldiers try to peek at what caused the explosion.
Soldier: What the hell was that?!
Leva: (IM) That can’t be good…
They reach the top of the dune to see the fortress in the distance. A huge hole can be seen in the side of the metal wall.
General: Forward! Guns at the ready!
Army: Yes, sir!
JP is woken up by the ground rumbling beneath him. He’s face down in the sand. He feels a sharp pain in his chest as if his heart had been ripped out. He weakly lifts his head to check his surroundings. To his lift he sees what was Bozan’s sword, reduced to nothing but a hilt and shards of metal. To his right, his own sword, now returned to its neutral state. He grabs his sword and uses it to push himself up to his knees, shaking the dust out of his hair. He finds himself under a shadow eclipsing the sun. He finally looks up to see a looming mound of flesh staring down at him. It’s roughly the size and shape of a human, but is unrecognizable as such. He glances back to see the hole in the fortress wall behind him. He looks down at his sword.
JP: That was… Intense…
The rumbling begins to strengthen as JP glances around the flesh statue to see the approaching convoy.
JP: Shit…
He stands and returns his sword to his back. He stands before the army of tanks and waits. A truck pulls up in front of him. The driver steps out and retrieves Leva from the bed. He kicks the bound woman to the sand in front of JP. He looks down at her with his neutral smug expression.
JP: How did you of all people get caught?
Leva: Not in the mood…
She looks up at the hideous flesh growth behind him.
Leva: Is that?…
JP: It’s a long story.
A horn sound from the advancing army.
JP: Longer than we have.
The tanks part, leaving a wide path in the middle. The soldiers armed with swords and crossbows pour from their tanks and line the path, standing at attention as a long red carpet unrolls before them. A massive tank rolls up to the far end of the carpet. It’s plated in deep red iron and decorated with the Capital’s sigil. The hatch opens and King Infernando himself climbs out. JP and Leva watch as the young king struts confidently down the path laid for him.
JP: (Whispering) How badly is Al gonna chew us out for this.
Leva: (Whispering) With the 10% probability both of us make it out of this alive, she won’t be chewing US out at all.
JP: (Whispering) Good point.
The king arrives before the two Wasted Mercenaries. He looks down at the bound Leva and then up at JP who is half a head taller than his crown. He smirks, reveling in the tense silence. He snaps his fingers. Ten soldiers from the line surround the two mercs and hold them at bowpoint. JP winces as he puts his hands in the air.
JP: Your-
Infernando: Nah-ah-ah. Wasteland filth will not speak out of turn.
JP shrugs as the king asserts his dominance.
Infernando: It’s been quite some time since you Wasted lot got this close to MY Capital. I know education is scarce, but does the word “truce” mean nothing to you people?
Leva: We didn’t break the damn treaty.
Leva growls, struggling in her restraints.
JP: Uh, yeah…
JP glances back towards the flesh mound.
JP: We had a job nearby.
Infernando chuckles warmly. He covers his mouth with his hands as his amusement builds. He erupts in genuine pleasant laughter to the skies, holding his splitting sides.
Infernando: You two truly thought I’d venture into this hellscape on a hunch? Ahahahaha!
He snaps his fingers again and a soldier emerges from the line dragging the Wasted’s client. He’s forced to kneel beside the king. He’s trembling and his eyes are darting in all directions. There are clear burns on the side of his neck.
Leva: Son of a bitch!
Client: (Mumbling) I’m loyal to my king. I’m loyal to my king. I’m loyal to my king. I’m loyal to my king.
JP: You realize that your king is the reason Coriander was in the hands of this monster, right?
Infernando: Yes. Yes… Todd and I had a long productive conversation about this situation. And once he understood my perspective he was more than happy to admit his wrong doings. And by extension… Your wrong doings.
JP: Says the guy providing forged steel to an immortal psychopath.
Infernando: Yes… I can’t say it was a deal I was proud of. But when you reduce a man to a puddle and he comes back laughing… Well… It saved us a headache to keep him on side.
JP: Sounds like you just weren’t trying hard enough.
The king tilts his head, getting a good look at the mound.
Infernando: Am I led to believe that that tumor behind you is Bozan.
JP: Yep.
Infernando: Hmm…
The king thinks for a moment, examining Bozan’s new shape.
Infernando: This is immaculate work. How did you manage such a feat?
JP: After a certain point his healing kicked into overdrive. He grew so much scar tissue that now he’s that nutsack.
Infernando: Fascinating…
Todd the client lifts his head in a moment of clarity.
Client: W-wait… W-w-where’s Coriander?
JP glances down, remembering the state he last saw that girl.
JP: I’m sorry, but…
???: HELP ME!!!
Client: Coriander?!
Todd stands up and rushes to the debris of the fortress.
???: HELP ME! PLEASE! HELP ME!
Client: CORIANDER!
He drops to his knees and begins digging through the wreckage. Struggling to lift the heavier pieces.
Client: Sh-she’s buried! Please help her!
JP looks towards the king, giving him a look asking if he’ll be allowed to help without being shot at.
Infernando: This is what you were hired for, is it not?
The king puts his foot on Leva’s captive shoulder.
Infernando: Just don’t think about running…
Leva: Don’t touch me!
Infernando: Oh, you’re a firecracker.
JP dashes to the rubble to help search for Coriander. He locates the scream woman digs her out from under the steel. Her father drops to his knees and cradles her in his arms. She’s covered in welts and cuts that weren’t there previously.
Coriander: D-d-dad?!
Client: Oh, Coriander… I-I’m so sorry.
JP: Why didn’t you call when I was looking for you?
Coriander: Bozan beat me unconscious after he got bored of me… When I woke up I was buried… I-I can’t feel my legs…
The client holds his daughter close.
Client: Oh, Coriander… I’m so sorry…
Infernando: How touching. A family reunited. All thanks to the miracle makers of wastelands. It is impressive to see your work first hand.
Leva: Condescending asshole…
The king moves his foot over Leva’s mouth and applies pressure.
Infernando: Sounds like someone insists on speaking out of turn. And my dossier said you were the smart one.
JP: So what now? We’re fugitives and you’ve got us dead to rights. I don’t particularly feel like getting into another fight, but I’m also not too keen on getting captured. So tell me, your majesty… How much of a problem do we have here?
Infernando smirks and takes his foot off of Leva.
Infernando: Ooh, I do like you… I’ll admit, I amassed my finest platoon and traversed the wasteland, absolutely giddy to wipe two of you abominations off the face of my earth. But now here we are. Not only have you dispatched of one of our most persistent nuisances, but you’ve also reunited a broken family. If I killed you now… Well I’d just look like a jerk.
JP: You are a jerk.
Infernando: *Chuckles* Yes, well… Consider this payment for your services…Besides, seeing what happened here, I’m not even sure I brought enough fire power. But next time one of you Wasted dogs step foot in my Capital, I will know. And I will have enough fire power. And I will not hesitate.
JP: Yes, your majesty.
Infernando: Good. Men! Move out!
The king snaps his fingers and the army loads back into their tanks. The muscular truck driver hoists Bozan and loads him into the back of his truck. The client carries his daughter past Leva and JP.
Client: (Whisper) I-I’m sorry…
He walks towards the army past the king. Infernando walks back down the carpeted path as two soldiers roll it up behind him. JP watches as the army drives away. He looks down at Leva.
Leva: Are you gonna untie me, or what?!
JP: Oh, yeah.
He unties Leva’s binds. She aggravatedly kicks the rope off herself and stands up.
JP: Sorry about that.
She dusts herself off and fixes her hair.
JP: That was certainly exciting…
Leva: It was a failure on all levels. Everything miscalculated. We should have never taken a job in the capital.
JP: You were the one who figured out the letter was a job in the first place.
Leva: You don’t think I know that?!
JP: Getting caught made you grumpy.
Leva: Yeah, well. Almost getting eaten by an A-Rex didn’t help…
JP looks out on the horizon and sees the sun starting to dip down below the horizon.
JP: We should start heading back. I want to make progress before we have to set up camp.
Leva: They took all my stuff. My bag, my bow, my deployable camp.
JP: That’s ok. We can loot what we can from Bozan’s camp. It should be enough to get us back.
Leva: You’re going to have to fill me in on what happened with Bozan on the walk back.
JP: Oh, yeah… You’re gonna find this interesting…