Fallout: Fury Blood

Chapter 103: Ain't That A Kick In The Head?

*WARNING*
Graphic details... The usual

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The hot cave passages known as the Veins teemed with a voracity for war in ways the Initiate had never seen in the Brotherhood of Steel. Word of the war gaining traction in the North was spreading throughout Bloodrock like a virus, rumors and tales spilling from the lips of passing raiders wherever Motor-Runner pulled him by leash.

The Northern outposts were falling to Brotherhood airstrikes. The canyon had been infiltrated and the Bleeding Abyssal assaulted. The aquifer was under nuclear siege. The Brotherhood were killing slaves with reckless abandon. The Dark Bloods were losing their advantage. Elder Maxson was growing unhinged.

The Initiate had never imagined the Brotherhood would resort to the extreme measures of killing innocents with 'reckless abandon.' In war, it happened, often with intention. But without remorse? The rumors made it sound as though. Elder Maxson had always gone out of his way to spare the natives in the Commonwealth during the Brotherhood's routine patrols and site purges, making great efforts in avoiding collateral damage where possible. Any reckless killing of innocents resulted in immediate dismissal of duty, exile, and sometimes, if the crime was bad enough and the perpetrator displayed zero remorse, execution. The Elder ruled with an iron fist, but was fair and merciful where was needed. Maybe the rumors were just the scaremongering of bored raiders, riling themselves up for revenge.

He and Motor-Runner strode past a loud gaggle of raiders hooting and egging each other on as they prepared their bodies for war. New tattoos were etched deeply into skin with needle and ink, hot branding was filling the air with burned flesh, and body modifications were cut into skin to demonise muscles and faces. The Initiate saw one man with holes cut in either side of his cheeks to expose his teeth within, the tongue wriggling out like a slimy pink worm. A woman had metal horns inserted through the skin on her forehead, giant horns protruding through the flesh of her back like the deformed wings of a demon, and a chin plated with metal shaped to fit, complete with a jutting horn that looked sharp enough to kill. Another woman was having black ink tattooed to the whites of her eyes while a man was piercing the fangs of a bloodbeast to either side of her mouth. The last glimpse of the warband he caught was of a younger warrior shaving his teeth into sharp points, like many of the warriors sported like a fashion trend.

These people were all psychotic psychopaths. As metal as the Earth's core. A world takeover would surely be worse than another apocalypse.

"Is the Bloodhunt going to war soon?" The breathless question put to Motor-Runner went unanswered for a time, until they were relatively alone after turning down a passage on the right.

"The fiercest of our Bloodhunt join with canyon Bloodhunt. Then go to war in North together as one Bloodhunt thousands strong. Take back outposts. Take back aquifer."

The Initiate wondered why his runner escort only chose to answer once they were alone. Was he forbidden to speak with him? Did he fear the ridicule from his brethren if caught chatting with a slave? Whatever the reason, the Initiate chose to push his luck. "Why is it taking them so long to mobilize? The rumors of the aquifer falling to the Brotherhood started days ago, maybe nearly a week. I lose count of the days being stuck in Third-Degree's crypt..."

"You chatter like woman," the raider snapped, along with the chain leash tied about the collar on the Initiate's neck. But after a quiet moment of walking over smooth rock, their bare feet padding in echoes, he answered again. "Supplies needed for war are slow to come to Bloodrock, this moon. Too slow. Many free caravans not come at all. Patrols bring word of some burned out by laser and plasma, all stores taken or destroyed. Others are deserted, sex slaves escaped or freed. Most travelling caravans survive by sex trade. No slaves, no fresh meat to fuck, no caps to make."