Final Agony

STAGE 2: Gaze of Distant Memory

Off the coasts of the Highway, there sat down a couple of cars wrecked up beyond repair and engines reaped from the hull and covers blown and torn away as if metal claws had ripped open into it and took the compartments away. Across the desert caldera, a thousand horses creeped in their echoing march with riders homing what appears to be sharp-point sticks up into the air as the sand gustles with its strong storm of coaxing sand. The elongated roads of the orange rurals stay strengthened and yet some bridges have been broken or torn apart by the disaster that was. The man took the action to rest by the Dry Rivers, it was aptly named Loanberry back then, now its but a barren coal where water don't rove about its current. He took off his boots and scrub them using a tattered napkin, the crusts of dirt lay piled on the slicker and he wiped the insides too. He unloaded his shotgun and looked onto his buckshot round, he scrub it the same way as his shotgun and laid it back onto the magwell. The weapon wasn't as pristine, there were bandage wraps on the stock that has been filthed with blood and foreign substances unknown to even himself. There were words etched to the barrel, words that have not quite been read as it is coated in dust of the desert.

Fall behind the highway, saw a pickup truck guided by approximately 5 men in black dusters. The pickup truck is a massive land cruiser, which fitted passengers up to about 6 men in total. The plate number has been scrutinized and customized to which they call themselves the Marauders. Silver paint decorated the rear sides and slicked over the back with a symbol of a star etched onto it. They have so far have been the wanderers of the wastes after the destruction, a bunch of militants turned cannibals weaponized for both guerilla warfare and to an extent, mechanized warfare as so many other wastelanders are but footmen and sandalwears similar to beggars. The engine spewed its steam to the air and polluted the orange mist even more. They have clearly lost their sense of well-being. The man witnessed to this and calmly grabbed his equipment, walking to a rubble and hid there as they pass. All the while he read a children's tale he found stored for himself, a man that could write and read among those who have stupidified themselves in the used-to-be.

In Mudflock, the residents of the town had been swiftly saved by the unknown bandits and they have gone to uphold their usual schedules and advanced in civilization. They have outgrown crops and fields of plants that were used back in the past, the seeds trickle in life as they grow. There wasn't much of the sun left for the plants to rise, and so they used solar-emitting lamps. These lamps help in sustaining their fertility for the long run of possibly a month of work. Distant chatter of traders and guards of Mudflock have once again coated the village in an almost pitiful harmony. The sands outside have not yet disturbed them ever since. The Marauders arrived to Mudflock, they were not here for any measure but instead to trade. They come about the Mudflock traders and exchanged bolts and screws for items of interests, they gathered food and drinks before setting off and leaving. The steam caught the attention of so many, they forth worn cloth masks on the way of their entrance and to their leave. A man wearing a red prisoner suit with a baldened head arrived to Mudflock, his skin was white rather than the ghoulish ones the resident has. It has been years since the nuclear annihilation and this man has yet to survive its effects, and remained clean.

The red suit man enters the bar and looked over to an obese resident, he is eating mutant meat with plates cluttered the roundtable and its oily substance dripping away as he ate. The man's face was but a stench, like pigs eating their meal on the culdesac. He is but a hungry man in the eyes of the red suit man, and he continued to eat. He licked up his fingers and eat the remains of a disgusting tard of coagulated tartar juiced in yellow piss-like liquid. The red suit man walked over with his boots that tapped up to the floor, ringing everyone's bells as he made his entrance to the centerfront of the bar. The barkeep looked at the two, he studied them. The red suit man abhorrently possesses a vile eye and he never seem to smile. He had no marks of ghoulification on his face nor in his entire body, and the obese man looked at him and questioned his presence. The red suit man replied quietly, grabbing over the man's hair before making him swallow his own fist. He jabs him about ten times as the food gust to his clenching paws. He grabbed his tongue and blood began to spurt out, the tenants were absolutely horrified by this act and the obese man could scream faintly out of his tongue ripped apart from his mouth. The red suit man then forces the tongue to stab at his left eye, leaving the obese man impaled and dead.

"WHY DO YOU KILL THAT INNOCENT MAN!? HE'S JUST EATING HIS MEAL!!" The barkeep said to him.

"Innocent? Is that supposed to be funny? An obese man? A disgusting man who could barely stand up? A man who, if you saw him on the street, you'd point him out to your friends so that they could join you in mocking him? A man who, if you saw him while you were eating, you wouldn't be able to finish your meal?" The man looked around the bar and seeing the face of the other tenants, he looked back at the barkeep.

"This is a man who dedicated his life to making money by lying with every breath that he could muster to keeping murderers and rapists on the streets! A woman. A woman! So ugly on the inside that she couldn't bear to go on living if she couldn't be beautiful on the outside. Whoever this man was and will be in the tomorrow is not but man no more, but a rat with twelve-thousand layers of lust and avarice built into his birthright. A man of disgust. A man where you keep its polluted corruption within."

The red suit man walked to the barkeep, his eyes shivered and his sweat drops to the countertop as he looked to his eyes. He finally studied his eyes. The man's eyes was blue, opaque and light as the forgotten oceans. The man's face was of hidden wrath that is coated within his tranquility, the barkeep's fear of the man could only grew stronger and he soon left the bar whilst dragging the obese man outside and threw him up to the Dry Rivers. The residents of Mudflock sees him doing such crimeful acts that as of yet, not apprehended. The man kept his apathethic look and take two steps before the gate of Mudflock. He raised his hands.

"Sinful men no more, and I shall condemn you under my guidance. You shall be fixed and repaired."

The writer looked over to the way of Mudflock, as he hears the distant chatter of people of the small town. He wondered to himself of what happened, as he is in the middle of reading a tale. The book was then put back to his bag as he prepared to move on deeper into the city.

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