Wanderer reflected on this thought as he settled back into his retreat in the woods, his trailer a sanctuary from his daily routine. He sat on his couch, engrossed in a book. It had become a new routine since he moved his base closer to Series 9 territory, choosing an isolated spot in the woods where he could be alone. until a loud banging and screeching noise jolted him from his reading
"BANG! BANG! BANG!"
Curiosity piqued, Wanderer stood up and peered out the window. A pale and tall, creepy figure loomed outside, its wide, eerie smile revealing rows of sharp teeth. It banged on the window, its long, spindly arms reaching toward him. The sound of its banging and screeching grew louder,
The figure continued its frantic attempts to communicate, making various growls and noises. Despite its ominous appearance, there was something almost human about it, as if it were struggling to convey a message.
Wanderer remained calm. He knew his trailer could withstand even a missile attack, and he wondered how this creature had found him in a place he thought was clear of mutants. Deciding against calling for backup, he focused on the figure outside.
“Yo... stop it or I’ll shoot,” he warned, pointing his pistol at the creature.while open a other window on trailer
The being halted its banging and screeching immediately, its body relaxing as it stood still, staring directly at Wanderer. It seemed to size him up, contemplating its next move, the eerie smile still plastered on its face.
“Can you talk, mutant?” Wanderer asked,
The figure nodded, understanding his question. It spoke in a deep, raspy voice, a strange mix of human and animal sounds. “Yes. Can speak.”
“Good. What are you doing here? This isn’t your territory,”
The figure’s smile widened, revealing even more sharp teeth. “What we doing? Surviving. Just like you. And territories...” It cackled softly. “No borders anymore.”
Wanderer frowned. “I’ve killed many of you—dozens of thousands. I have your kind’s blood on my hands, and I regret nothing.”
The figure’s smile faded, replaced by a cold, calculating look. It stepped closer to the window, locking eyes with Wanderer. “Ah, the infamous Wanderer. Your reputation precedes you. You have spilled blood. Many of us. But you do not fear us. You do not regret. Why is that?”
“Because you guys just creep me out. You should thank me I don’t shoot you on sight,”
The figure’s smile returned, It tilted its head slightly, “Heh. You could have shot me right away. Instead, here we are. Talking. I should thank you, yes. Now, what brings you here, Wanderer? Not just to threaten us, I presume.”
Wanderer shook his head. “No... it’s my woods now. My land.”
The figure’s smile widened again, its yellow eyes narrowing. “Your land, you say? Ha! You’ve got some nerve, claiming this place as yours. This land belongs to no one, my friend. Not you, not us. It’s the land of the strong. we mutants are strong. Stronger than you think.” It leaned in closer to the window, its hot breath fogging up the glass.
“Yes, sure... actually, this is my first time talking with a pure mutant,”
The figure nodded, “First time talking to a pure mutant, huh? Thought we all looked the same, did you? Heh. Truth is, mutants come in all shapes and sizes. We’ve got brains, just like you humans.” It tapped the side of its head with a long, spindly finger, emphasizing its point.
Wanderer rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Yes...”
The figure chuckled again, its smile turning wry. “Ha! Curious, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes. You want to know more about us, the ‘pure mutants.’ Go ahead, Wanderer. Ask your questions. I’ll answer.”
Wanderer took a deep breath. “Yes... we often call you freaks, skinwalkers, human animals. But what do you call yourselves?”
The figure's smile faded once more, replaced by a stony expression. “You humans have a way of making labels, don’t you? But to answer your question, we don’t call ourselves anything special. We’re just us. Mutants. Survivors. A product of this messed-up world, same as you.”
Wanderer raised an eyebrow. “Mhmm…”
The figure nodded, “You humans always need labels, always need to categorize stuff. But labels are just that—labels. They can’t capture the complexities of life out here. We mutants, we don’t fit into your neat little boxes. We’re a lot more than just skin and bones, you know.”
“Yeah, but why live in a... primal way of life?” Wanderer asked,
The figure’s smile “Primal? Ha! You humans think you’re so civilized, so advanced. But isn’t life itself primal? Isn’t the struggle to survive a primal instinct? In many ways, we mutants are more in touch with our primal nature than you humans. We don’t complicate life with labels, divisions, wars. We just are.”
Wanderer smirked. “Yeah... eat each other, piling up corpses, worship trees? And... um... I bet you guys do orgies too, hehe.”
The figure laughed, its eerie smile widening. “Oh, I knew you’d go there eventually. You humans are always so quick to judge. But let me set the record straight—we mutants have our ways, our rituals, our beliefs. We don’t ‘eat each other’; we hunt and kill. And trees? They’re more than just trees to us. They’re sacred. They provide us with life, like everything else.”
“Oh. You don’t deny the last part, do you?” Wanderer smirked.
The figure’s smile turned wicked again. “Heh. You catch on fast, Wanderer. Yes, we mutants have our pleasures. We let loose more than you humans do, that’s for sure. We embrace life in all its forms. We don’t cling to false morals or taboos. We’re freer than you could ever imagine.”
Wanderer’s expression darkened. “Yes, and my genocidal intent... might be justified... in a twisted way.”
The figure’s smile faded, its eyes narrowing. “Justified? Ha! That’s a word humans love to throw around, isn’t it? Justified. Everyone always thinks they’re justified. But the truth is, justification doesn’t matter in a world like this.. And as for your genocidal intent... well, I can’t blame you. This place is harsh. It makes monsters out of all of us, humans and mutants alike.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
“Hmmm... you’re smarter than I thought. I wonder why we never talked before. Who are you?”
The figure’s leaned back slightly, folding its long arms across its bare chest. “Who am I? Just a mutant that’s been around the block a few times. I’ve seen things, experienced things that would make most humans’ heads spin. But enough about me. The more important question is, who are you, Wanderer? More than just a killer, I suspect. What brings you to these forsaken lands?”
“I’m the dude who likes killing, and someone pays me for it. But do you guys have a concept of names?” Wanderer replied,
The figure nodded,. “Names. You humans and your obsession with identities. Yes, we mutants have names. Some of us, anyway. Some choose to keep it simple, while others use our given names. It doesn’t matter much out here. Survival is what counts. Names won’t save you from a bullet.”
Wanderer chuckled. “So, if I say ‘hey” and call out a specific person in a large crowd of mutants, they’d all look at me? Sounds... awkward.”
The figure laughed, “Heheh. Yeah, that’d be pretty awkward, wouldn’t it? Calling out a name in a crowd of mutants, hoping the right one hears you. But the thing is, we all have our senses attuned to danger. We can hear, smell, feel things from a mile away. So yes, they’d probably all look at you.”
“I see... hmhm... yes, yes. I definitely will use this information for future extermination programs,”
The figure’s smile faded again “Extermination program, huh? You humans are all alike, always thinking you’re the top of the food chain. You think you can come into our lands and just exterminate us like bugs? Hah! Good luck with that.”
Wanderer leaned in, “Yes, but do you know the... plot twist?”
“A plot twist, you say? Alright, I’ll bite. What’s this plot twist you speak of?”
Wanderer took a deep breath then half muttered. “We... mhhm nom nom... we... WE... need you... to find a common enemy.”
The figure’s eyes widened slightly. “Need us, huh? Common enemy, you say? And who would this common enemy be, exactly? And what’s in it for us mutants?”
Wanderer paused, “I might be a bit disillusioned these days.”
The figure nodded, “I can imagine. War can do that to a person. Make them question their purpose. Question the world they’re living in. I’ve seen it happen before. To humans and mutants alike.”
As they stood there, the weight of their conversation hung in the air
Wanderer leaned back, contemplating the figure before him. “Yes, and... umm... ironically, some of my force is half mutant. And... yeah, you know what I feel.”
The figure’s expression softened slightly, “Ah, I see. So you have comrades who are mutants. And yet, you’re still expected to fight against them. Ironic, isn’t it?.”
“Mhmm... Tell me, do you think a peaceful multipolar world is even possible without massive wars?” Wanderer asked, while testing him as well.
The figure rubbed its chin thoughtfully. “Peaceful multipolar world, eh? That’s a heavy question. I don’t think there’s an easy answer. There will always be conflicts. Wars are a part of life, just as much as peace is. But I do think it’s possible to reduce the extent of these conflicts. To find more peaceful ways to settle our differences. But it will take much work. And a lot of compromise.”
Wanderer blinked several times, a bit shocked by the mutant’s answer. “Good...”
The figure raised an eyebrow. “Good, you say? You agree with me, then?”
“Well... I think I will do something unthinkable. Show me your leader,”
The figure seemed surprised by Wanderer’s request, “You want to see our leader, eh? And what makes you think I’d just take you to them? What’s your angle here, Wanderer?”
“Perhaps we can find a middle ground,”
The figure considered Wanderer’s proposal for a moment,“Alright, I’ll take you to our leader. But you better keep your word. No funny business. Got it?”
“I will do funny business,” Wanderer replied with a smirk.
The figure rolled its eyes, clearly unamused by Wanderer’s jest. It shook its head, a hint of annoyance in its voice. “Smartass. Just remember, if you cause any trouble, I won’t hesitate to put you down. Got it?”
“Yes, because the one who meets him is my drone,” Wanderer said, drawing a small drone from his cloak.
A drone, huh? Nice,” it murmured, leaning closer to examine the small device. “How exactly do you expect to have a conversation with our leader using that thing?”
“I can speak through this thing,”
The figure looked at the drone skeptically, “Right, right. And you expect me to just believe that you can somehow have a meaningful conversation with our leader using this drone? How do I know you’re not up to something fishy here?”
“You fool... it’s just better this way than I go walk with you to your... lair,”
The figure glared at Wanderer, its patience starting to fray. It crossed its arms, “Don’t call me a fool, human. You’re in our territory. The least you could do is show a bit of respect,” the figure growled. “But fine, fine. If you want to use your little toy drone, go ahead. Follow me. And don’t try anything stupid.”
“Alright,” Wanderer said, turning on his drone and letting it fly near the figure.
The figure watched as the drone took off and began flying around them. It followed next to the figure as they moved toward the True Horde’s lair, known as Twilight’s Edge. its was a various of tunnel network decorated with a bone hide behind the deep vegetation.
A few mutants glanced at the drone curiously, but none seemed alarmed by its presence. Eventually, they reached the entrance of the lair, a large cave hidden deep within the ruins.
Wanderer looked at the lair on his monitor and spoke through the drone’s speaker. “I’m glad I don’t need to smell your stinky lair.”
The figure rolled its eyes,. “Watch your tongue, human. We may be living in a cave, but at least we’re not living in concrete and steel tombs like the SWAT. And speaking of stink,” it added with a mocking smirk, “have you ever showered? You reek of sweat and gunpowder.”
“How rude... we clean at least five times per day as Muslims, and I use a parfum,” Wanderer retorted.
The figure paused in surprise at Wanderer’s response. “Wait, really? Five times a day? And you even wear perfume? Huh, I didn’t expect that,” it admitted begrudgingly. “I guess you do have some hygiene standards after all.”
“Perhaps your nose is too used to the smell of radiated soil,”
The figure snorted in derision at Wanderer’s comment. “Hey, don’t insult the nose of a mutant. We’re used to strong smells, you know. Radiation, decay, corpses—that’s all a part of our daily life,” it retorted. “Your little human nose just can’t handle it. Sorry if we don’t all smell like daisies and sunshine like you do.”
“Just shut up and lead us to your leader,”
The figure grumbled irritably but obliged Wanderer’s demand. It continued walking deeper into the cave complex, occasionally glancing back at the drone to ensure it was still following. They passed by more mutants who eyed them curiously, but none made a move to stop them. They seemed to either recognize the figure or respect its authority.
“He should be down here,” the figure muttered, pointing towards a room in the heart of the dimly lair. “Try not to say anything stupid.”
The drone penetrated deeper into the heart of the mutant lair, its cameras transmitting a grainy image of the subterranean world. The cave complex was a labyrinth of twisting tunnels and cavernous chambers, dimly lit by flickering torches and smoldering fire pits. A cacophony of sounds filled the air—the grunts and groans of the mutants, the occasional clatter of metal against stone.
Dozens of mutants moved about the lair, their forms a grotesque blend of human and beast. Some tended to fires,. Others sharpened crude weapons or tended to the wounds of their fallen comrades.
drone followed a figure through the labyrinth, its destination a larger chamber bathed in the flickering light of a central fire. Seated upon a makeshift throne, surrounded by a handful of his most trusted lieutenants, was the leader of the True Horde.
These mutants were no ordinary creatures. Taller and bulkier than their usual mutant counterparts. Their skin was a mottled green some bit more yellow, their bodies adorned tattoo
The drone hovered above the leader, its speaker crackling to life. "Greetings, freak, I am Wanderer, the killer of countless mutants and humans."
The leader, a hulking figure known as Ugir, grunted in acknowledgment. "Wanderer, eh? You're one cocky human. Or should I say, foolish? You think you can just waltz into my lair and call me a freak without consequences?"
"Yes, but I am here to make a deal, perhaps even a truce."
Ugir leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "A deal or a truce, you say? Interesting. Alright, human, I'm listening."
Wanderer continued. "We both know we don't have a nice relationship with Series 9."
Ugir nodded, "True. Those Series 9 punks have always been a thorn in our side. Always trying to steal our resources, encroach on our territory. They think just 'cause they have fancy tech, they're better than us."
He paused, intertwined his only 3 fingers on his each hand "And you think we should... work together against them? That's a bold move, human. What makes you think we can trust you?"
Wanderer replied, "By a simple truce for a start. My mercenaries will stop joining forces with SWAT if they decide to attack you. All this time, my forces have been their main wing of offensive capability."
Ugir considered Wanderer's words for a moment, a thoughtful expression on his face. He glanced at the other mutants around him, silently consulting them. After a moment of whispered discussion, he turned back to Wanderer drone and spoke. "A simple truce, eh? You stop helping the SWAT, and we won't attack your forces. Seems like a fair bargain."
"Yes, a truce built on time."
"A truce it is. Your forces and ours will steer clear of each other. We'll keep the peace as long as you hold up your end of the deal."
Wanderer took a breath, considering the implications. "Yes, and perhaps... a trade too? We can offer medicine and tools."
The Ugir leader quirked an eyebrow. "Medicine and tools, you say? Well, those could be useful. We've always struggled to come by that sort of stuff. The wastelands aren't exactly teeming with medical supplies and modern tools. since they all is controled by human market"
"Yes, it is. In return, you can offer us oils and mining items."
A smirk formed on the Ugir leader's face. "Oils and mining items, eh? That's something we can provide. We've got plenty of that lying around. Very well, human. We'll trade you oil and raw minerals in exchange for your medicine and tools."
Wanderer raised an eyebrow, Really? That simple? No extra charge because I razed your people countless times?"
The Ugir leader let out a rough, guttural chuckle, leaning back in his bone throne. "Oh, don't worry, human. I haven't forgotten. I know what you've done. But we mutants ain't one to hold grudges. Plus, survival comes first. Right now, we need those tools and medicines more than we need revenge. So yeah, fair trade, no extra charge."
"Alright then... hopefully this is beneficial for the long run. Be peace upon you," Wanderer replied,
The Ugir leader nodded, a dark, satisfied smirk on his face. "Yes, let's hope so. Farewell for now, human. May your travels bring you less trouble than usual."
With that, the leader turned away, signaling the end of the audience. Several mutants continued to eye the drone with mild curiosity.
Once the drone returned to Wanderer's hand, he quickly sprayed it with antibacterial spray, followed by a spritz of perfume. He nodded to himself, then looked outside his trailer, feeling a mix of emotions. On one hand, he had made a deal with the True Horde mutants. On the other, he couldn't shake the nagging thought of how his intel had been so careless as to fail to notice the massive mutant lair on their new land.