The world is asking who you are, and if you don't know, the world will tell you.

"A month after the recruits finished their brutal training, The recruits sparred in the lower levels, the clang of metal echoing through the bunker. One, a skinny kid who'd stammered through Chrome's interview, parried a blow with practiced ease, calloused hands gripping his weapon, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Look at them," he muttered to Furqan, who leaned against a nearby pillar.

"Almost like they believe they have a chance. Cute." furqan eyes fixed on intercom on his right arms.

“dont be like that. they will be on your command now. as infantry “ wanderer wiggle his eyebrows

they were ready to hit the wasteland. Their first gig: babysitting a caravan See, Ironhold wasn't exactly a vacation spot. It was more of a pit stop, a hub. Every couple of months, they’d send out a trading party deep into the Eastern Wasteland. It gave the new immigrants a better shot at survival – sticking with the caravan was way safer than going it alone.

A mix of battered trucks and polished dune buggies, loaded with supplies for the settlements, made up the caravan. They were headed for SWAT territory. in most front. a truck with extra stell protection secure his front glass. and top of it a giant yak skull with 3 horn, wanderer open the door and sit beside the driver

“First ride, huh?” Wanderer asked the caravan leader. a guy with a beard that looked like it had weathered a few apocalypses itself.

“yes,” the man replied. “I’ve traveled Europa, even the Holy Land,” the caravan leader said. “But this wasteland… it’s different. I could use your experience.”

Wanderer chuckles “hah. take it easy. europa is messier place than here.. we in here just only got raider. mutants, and overly sensitive neighbour, just follow the route. and you will be fine”

Caravan leader nod while observing map on his hand“what is swat stand for anyway?”

Wanderer raise his eyebrows “well. swat stand for “Scum-Wiping Annihilation Taskforce” they military society, i mostly work with them”

Caravan leader give low whistle “ what did you say? scum wiping? what kind harcore name is that?”

Wanderer nod his gaze soften “they are mutant killers. well.. anyway..since this place communication devise is unreliable.. thanks to prewar electronic jamming and dang weather,..just keep your eyes open. friendly fire is one major fatality in here”

Caravan leader forehead turn into furrow “i can imagine that. the harsh wind. are you sure we will okay?”

Wanderer laugh “dont worry about it.. oh anyway. throw away your map.. its useless navigate this terrain with that old dated map. use this “Wanderer then swapped his map for another before speaking “just hit the gas and follow the route”

They began their journey. The earth, scarred by tectonic shifts, lay in a patchwork of craters, valleys, and ruins of old world. On distant high points, scouts signaled with smoke and flares, their messages carried on the wind. in some part of region. a old pre war jammer is disturb the communication. adding to the sense of isolation. the caravan stretched across the desolate landscape, a vulnerable line against the horizon

As they moved through the harsh terrain of the uncharted desert, convoy passed a road sign in the barren landscape.

West: a human skull labeled "SWAT." North: a grotesque human skull with horns labeled "True Horde." East: an erect penis labeled "Series 9." South: a normal arrow labeled "Caliphate."

Occasional earthquakes rumbled, and steam puffed from the vents of ancient volcanoes. Small shrines dotted their slopes, piles of scrap and bone strangely arranged. On one, a human skull rested on a makeshift offering plate, its empty sockets staring towards the cracked sky. This hellscape was normal to their eyes.

From his six-wheeled command vehicle, nicknamed “mobile home,” Wanderer surveyed the scene, scanning the horizon for any sign of trouble. Inside the armored behemoth, banks of monitors and comms gear formed the nerve center of his operation, with real-time feeds from cameras mounted on every vehicle in the caravan.

Furqan pat his brown cat, not just a ordinary cat. its was a Ray cat, on his arms and glanced at Wanderer “he not change color yet. its good. radiation wind then still not infected this route”

Wanderer nod “yeah.. i actually more scared with fellow human being than radiation”

It was just then, as the caravan crested a low ridge, that the riders appeared, materializing from the swirling sand, a group of heavily armed riders materialized, clad in the distinctive black and blue of the SWAT. They signaled for the caravan to halt.

Before the caravan leader could even speak from his truck, the SWAT commander barked an order. His men opened fire without hesitation, The caravan guards returned fire, the roar of automatic weapons shattering the desert silence.

Wanderer, watching the whole thing from a distance, wasn't about to stand by. Using his psychic abilities, he sent a message straight into the SWAT commander's head: "You insolent fool. We're the mercs working with you. And we're with the immigrants. Stop firing now, or we'll behead you all."

The words hit the Young Commander—a kid, really, with blond hair—like a punch to the gut. His face twisted with rage, but he wasn't about to directly defy Wanderer. Instead, he turned to his men, yelling, “Stop firing! They’re just a caravan!”

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The caravan leader let out a sigh of relief as his guards lowered their weapons. He nodded his thanks to Wanderer. The Young Commander, his pride clearly wounded, approached the caravan leader’s truck. "Your threats mean nothing to me," he spat. "We don't need your kind here. Get off my land!"

Despite his anger, the Young Commander knew better than to antagonize Wanderer further. He gestured towards his men, ordering them to back off and let the caravan pass unharmed.

Wanderer dismount from his Mobile home. and stepped forward. well he just a kid. and probably his first mission on this region. He pulled out the Lapis Azuli. "This is a symbol of our alliance," he said, offering the gem to the Young Commander.

The Young Commander reached out, accepting the gem with trembling hands. He bowed his head slightly, acknowledging Wanderer's status and the gesture's significance. "You honor us with this gift," he said, his voice barely hiding his excitement. "I accept it as a symbol of our alliance."

Wanderer, his voice flat, simply said, "Good. Now, escort us."

With renewed vigor, the Young Commander nodded, motioning for Wanderer's team and caravan to follow him. He led them towards the heart of SWAT territory, his back straight and proud. An hour later, they reached one of the SWAT bases.

then the caravan stop at the gate, the caravan leader then thanks to wanderer before they split out, As they approached the central command building—the Bastion—a cube-shaped structure with blue stripes and a cannon and anti-aircraft gun mounted on the roof,while a missile turret aim to the sky and had logo “starsbuck” on it.

Further inside, men in sleek black uniforms with the 'Serpent Protection' insignia patrolled the corridors. The scent of ozone from the nearby charging stations mixed with the competing aromas of nutrient paste and synthetic meat from the various food vendors lining up.

A massive holographic advertisement for 'Cybernetic Enhancements by BioGenesis' flickered above them, momentarily blinding Wanderer. A nearby walkway was entirely covered in 'Mammoth Firearms' logos. The Young Commander swiped a platinum card at a retinal scanner, the mechanism clicking open the heavy door to the command center. 'Premium access,' he said, a hint of pride in his voice. 'Keeps out the riff-raff.'

Beyond the door, the corridor was simple, with bare metal walls instead of advertisements. A few SWAT officers moved in the background, their presence more functional than decorative. The Young Commander led Wanderer to a sparsely furnished office. He turned, his expression now serious. 'This is where we make the decisions that matter,' he said, his voice firm. 'Where I'll present your proposal.'

"This is where we make decisions that affect everyone in SWAT," he declared, his voice filled with conviction. "It's here that I will present your proposal."

Wanderer nodded, thinking, “i know this place kid. because im the one who build it in past.” His expression remained wary. "Good... we work together for few occasions... but the last one accident is... worse. What happened? Something got your leader's nerve?"

The Young Commander's eyes narrowed at the mention of the previous incident, a shadow crossing his features. He quickly regained his composure. "That 'accident', as you call it, nearly cost us everything," he said bitterly. "Our leader... he lost faith in us. In me."

For a moment, he seemed lost in thought. Then, he shook his head. "But enough of that. We're here now, aren't we?" A small smile graced his lips.

"Alright... I pretend nothing happened. So what is your next plan against the mutants?" Wanderer asked.

The Young Commander nodded. "Our next strike will be against the True Horde," he stated firmly. "They've been growing bolder, pushing further into our territory. We need to send a message."

He paused, glancing around. "But I'm not just planning another raid. This time, I want to hit them where it hurts. I want to cripple their forces, break their spirit."

A sudden spark lit up his eyes. "And I think you might know exactly how to do that."

Wanderer rubbed his nose. "Alright. Show us the location."

With a nod, the Young Commander pulled out an old map, marking a spot with charcoal. "This is where the True Horde's main base is located," he said, pointing to the marked spot. "It's well defended, but if we can take out their food supply, we might just get what we're looking for."

He looked up at Wanderer, waiting for a response. Wanderer studied the map closely, mulling over the Young Commander's words. Targeting the True Horde's food supply was a smart move; it could lead to chaos within their ranks, providing an opening for a decisive strike.

"Sounds like a plan," Wanderer said, nodding in agreement. "How about the enemy's presence?"

The Young Commander grinned, revealing a set of sharp teeth. "Don't worry, we've got scouts watching the perimeter. We know when they're most active, when they least expect an attack." His enthusiasm was palpable. "We'll strike during their feeding time. They'll be distracted, easy targets. And with your help, we'll make sure they don't stand a chance." He extended a hand. "Join us, and together we'll bring those freaks to their knees."

"Alright... can I ask a question?" Wanderer replied, curiosity piqued.

The Young Commander raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Of course, you can ask. What's on your mind?" He leaned back slightly, giving Wanderer his full attention. His posture was relaxed, but his eyes remained alert, ready for anything. "I'm always open to questions from my allies. It shows that you're thinking critically, which is exactly what I want in my team."

Wanderer hesitated for a moment before asking, "How... old are you?"

The Young Commander chuckled, a deep sound that resonated with confidence. "Old? Not really. I mean, look around. This isn't a place for the weak or the elderly. It's survival of the fittest here." He shrugged, his youthful appearance contrasting sharply with his mature demeanor. "But since you asked, I'm twelve. That's old enough to understand the harsh realities of our world and young enough to still dream of a better future."

"Hm... good," Wanderer nodded with a slight smile.

The Young Commander's face lit up at Wanderer's approval, his grin widening even further. "See? I told you we'd make a great team! Now, let's get moving. We've got some mutants to hunt down and put in their place." He stood up, brushing off his uniform with a flourish. "Stick close and follow my lead. I'll show you the ropes of being part of the SWAT. Together, we'll conquer this wasteland!"

Later, they prepared their gear in the garage, surrounded by dirt bikes and all-terrain pickups which decorated with various bone. Wanderer and his team geared up for the operation, checking their weapons and supplies.

'You know... they're just throwing bodies at the problem, aren't they?' Wanderer chuckled, glancing at Furqan and Chrome.

Furqan and Chrome exchanged glances. Furqan nodded. 'No central recruitment, no training standards. Every local chapter does its own thing. They are indeed low on manpower, aren't they? This SWAT force is severely understaffed.'

Chrome chimed in, his voice laced with a hint of worry. "They're spreading themselves too thin, trying to defend too much territory. It's a recipe for disaster."

"Good! I mean... bad," Wanderer replied, a smirk on his face.

Chrome chuckled dryly. "Yes, it's bad for them. But it's pretty convenient for us, considering what we're about to do."

Furqan remained silent, his eyes scanning the surroundings vigilantly, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming operation. The tension in the air was palpable, but so was the excitement of the hunt ahead.