- Doomsday - Volume One: Gods and Monsters

Chapter 88: Postbellum

(AN: Breaking news, I will be releasing the first chapter to a new story tomorrow. I know, I know, I said like a few chapters ago that I wasn't going to make another story, but I had gotten quite inspired recently and just started writing, and now it's turned into a whole thing on it's own. It will either release with one or two chapters at once, so that there will be more to read through (that depends on how fast I am at writing), but if anyone's interested, go check it out. It will probably be quite similar in tone to this story, another male reader insert, similar enough to our lovable Doomsday, but more grounded and less mass-genocidal unstoppable killing machine, if you get what I'm saying. I won't spoil anything, you'll have to read through to know more, and I hope you enjoy! That's enough self-promotion however, enjoy today's chapter (Also also, next chapter release will be a double feature, I spoke a small amount about it in my conversations, so read through that if your are interested)

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"Dune, you sure your alright to be movin' about already? Doc said rest was the best medicine!" Set up in a smaller ramshackle hut within the interior of Junkertown a group of young wastelanders made themselves busy within what appeared to be a blacksmith of some sort, with cast iron and heavy tools laid precariously around. Sticking out was a Junker with combed-back hair and a cold glaze upon his eyes sitting underneath an older scratched pair of glasses, trying his hardest to walk about upon a wooden cane, his joints cracking with each movement and pain striking with every step. Surrounding him his friends held their arms out pre-emptively, ready and waiting to rush in and catch him if he were to fall, yet he never did, continuing to walk by himself despite their pleas. He threw up his hand casting them away, offended by the offer, "I can't just be sitting in bed all day doing nothing, and we have to earn out keep for the time being..."

Temporary job placements had opened up after the mass casualties suffered during the attack, and all 'well-bodied' men and women were called to work, heavy and intensive manual labour, with some lucky few achieving more skilful work based upon prior experience. Dune was the complete opposite of 'well-bodied' in his current state, but that didn't stop him one bit. Rather, making him even more determined to work and do his part, not wanting to be seen as a burden by those around him, who had already done so much to support him. The fires were hot and the clank, clank, clank of hammer upon metal echoed jarringly across the industrial zone, with giant men carrying building supplies backwards and forwards. Dune didn't slack, pounding the cast iron before him, sweat dripping from every part of his body, the world around him non-existent, completely absorbed into his work.

It came to him as a surprise when out of nowhere the forge master himself slammed his hand down upon the waist-high wall opposite. Startled and aware he looked back confused at the grizzled blacksmith, with callused and rough hands, accompanied by an even more rugged face, the years showing their toll. "Somebodies 'ere to see you." the older man stated, tossing a dirty rag over Dune's shoulders, "Clean yourself up, don't want to embarrass yourself Infront of the Yowie..." He stood still for a moment, making sure that he had heard the correct sentence, however the elder smithy had marched as fast as he had appeared, getting back to his profession with little dawdling. The Yowie? What does he want me for? Dune began thinking up multiple answers, wiping his face and hands, slowly making his way past the myriad of hard-working labourers enthralled in their own craft. 

The industrial area was mostly open-air, taking up a large district to itself, and navigating it could be nauseous and cause one's head to spin with the amount going on all at once, but on this occasion, the usual over-stimulation didn't affect Dune much as it had done many times before. The Yowie appeared stationary at the end of the street before him, stood leaning up against a wall with arms folded, keeping to himself, but that didn't stop every passer-by from saying a word or two. Dune swallowed, building up courage, however butterflies puttered around in his chest making him feel heavy and bloated, thinking exactly how he should respond to the man who had given him a second chance. Any other leader would have had him and his people shot for treason and rebellion, yet the Yowie was different, he understood the people, showing mercy when it was most needed.