Fusion and Iron

1. Introduction

A violent gust of wind whipped across the Forsaken Valley coastline, carrying a sickly stench of fusion that tainted the very air. The ocean waves, once blue, now corrupted a murky green, corrupted by the invasive fusion matter as they churned relentlessly against the shore. The once-pristine sand was now stained an unnatural greenish hue, and the thick palm trees were bent and twisted under the assault of the storm, their leaves barely clinging to their branches.
The sky above was a disgusting color of gray and green, a terrible blend of storm clouds and fusion pollution that blocked out any trace of sunlight. Lightning flashed intermittently, briefly illuminating the desolate landscape in eerie bursts, while the constant patter of rain drummed against the earth.
At the edge of the jungle, the once lively and vibrant jungle had been ruined by the wreckage of what had once been an advanced spacecraft. Its charcoal-black and carmine-red hull, mangled and ruined, jutted out from the mud and sand. The markings on its surface (seemingly belonging to Mandark) made it unmistakable; Whatever high-tech marvel this vessel had once been, it was now nothing more than a rusting ruin, half-sunk into the mud pits of the valley. Flickering lights barely clung to life from deep within the wreck, signaling a slow death for the once fearsome machine.

Through the chaos of the storm, hidden between a cluster of trees, a small makeshift camp struggled to withstand the elements. Scrap tarps and blankets formed crude but necessary barriers, flapping wildly as the wind tore at their edges, held in place by hooks stabbed deep into the ground. It was forged together from a blend of wreckage scrap metal, hastily put together in a cube-shaped structure. It proved to be comfy enough that one could climb inside to escape the harsh conditions, for now.
On top of this structure was a tall, slender radar tower, firmly erect in place. Despite being a rickety creation, it had been reinforced with several layers of tape and adhesive to keep it firm. The straps, wires, and extra debris added to its weight to keep it up. Its horrible state didn't stop it from being fully functional, it was also broadcasting a strong enough signal out into the storm sky, calling out to anyone that might be listening.

Inside the cube, a worn Dynamo suit helmet sat by itself. It had two distinct piercing amber-yellow eyes and an unmistakable clear-white sharp-toothed glare. The helmet was plugged into a crude power outlet, cables spiraling around from its sides. It stared lifelessly out toward the rain in front, watching the land decay around it every day. A single wire pulsed faintly, indicating that despite the harsh conditions, this lone helmet had some purpose left to serve before it fully died.

Holding the battered helmet in his worn hands was a man who hadn't fully rested in a long time. His skin had tanned from the strenuous amounts of days lost in the jungle. He slouched over, his broad shoulders sagging under an unseen weight. His mousy-brown hair, matted and wind-swept, flapped wildly in the wind. On his face was a patchy, scruffy beard, rough and poorly groomed.
He was young, twenty at most. His faint cerulean-blue eyes looked like they belonged to someone twice his age. They were stressed, bloodshot, with dark, baggy circles from too many nights struggling to sleep. They were eyes that had seen too much.

The young man wore a set of mismatched jet-black leather armor, salvaged pieces of scavenged tactical vests, and body armor. The plates were cracked and worn, hastily patched together, and held firm by straps and buckles that creaked. Beneath the armor, his pale-yellow t-shirt faded, the color washed out from the exposure to sweat, rain, and blood. His khaki shorts, vacational, were rugged and folded as he sat on his knees in front of this helmet.

He stared ahead, still looking down at the device in his hands. His expression felt... distant, almost disconnected from everything going on around him. As his thumb traced over a button on the side of the head, it tapped rhythmically until a small blinking red light started. The signal started up again, and the eyes flared up in a faint glow.
As he took a deep breath, the young man leaned forward and began to speak. His voice was tired and hoarse like every word was painful.