Mutant 99 [Fanfic]

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Sorry for my absence, WattPad seems to be having problems with my story, so if this isn't reading as chapter four, or you can't find chapter three, please let me know and I will do my best to fix it.

Also sorry for the short chapter, next will be longer, I promise.

Further more, due to lacking in internet, it's likely that I'll just up load several chapters at once, wherever possible.

Edit: I've started an original story, please give that some love

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   Cross was cross. Here he was, trying to shed a tear or two for lost lives, and the damn wild life can't read the atmosphere he's trying to keep for five fucking seconds!

   As he was kneeling amongst the hard steel beams, and a damn Wolf-Bear is lumbering after him with that hungry look in its eyes, slobber falling off in gallons.

   In his rage, adrenaline surged through Cross's system, and he heaved up one of the beams, propping a foot under him and -- with a sound comprised of a grunt, growl, and wordless shout all in one -- flung the metal shaft at the beast, striking it in the head and snapping its neck in one herculean toss, the beam going so far as to push through the head and into the body with the force of his throw, other end falling to drag on the ground, stopping the monster in its tracks.

   One enraged Mutant of the ninety-nineth numeral found his feet and glared at the impaled body. "Can't you see I need a fucking minute here?!"

   There was no reply, of course.

   Cross gave a huff and settled down. He cast one last sad look at his surroundings and heaved a sigh, before pulling up to his feet.

   Well, now that sentimental shit is done, time to get to work... Doing what exactly?

   Cross had to think for a moment. Why did he come here, again? Right... He was just exploring. But... Why was he doing that?

   Cross decided to stop thinking before he thought himself to death. He shook his head and smacked it to show his brain who's boss, before hopping off the pile of steel beams.

   The smell of metal finally registered, since he wasn't preoccupied with survival and being depressed. He felt a sudden urge, his body pressing on him to fulfill a need for an action his hands hadn't done in God knows how many years.

   He wasn't sure what it was, but it excited him.

   Cross walked around, looking through the buildings. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but figured he'd recognize it if he saw it.

   His search brought him back to the first house where the hideous spider creatures were. Something like an odd twitch in his gut for some reason told him to clear this place out.

   Of course, going through the process of cleaning out the webbing they laid throughout it was something he deeply dreaded, thus he wasn't really that interested.

   He turned away to find somewhere else.

   His gut disagreed. To Cross's deep lament.

   The Mutant looked down at his body. "Why? Why are you doing this to me?"

   The odd pinch just grew tighter. Cross sighed. "Fine..."

   So, he began the slow, agonizing, tiring process of removing thick, mutated spider web from a run down home. Honestly, this home was in better shape than most the others in the neighborhood. It wasn't the best, but it was the closest to the forest he had decided to make his stomping grounds. Thus, he had to admit it wasn't a bad location.

   Didn't make cleaning it out any less aggravating.

   Finally, after three straight days of cursing, shouting, tearing, lifting debris, and cutting himself out of webs, the house was finally clean... Ish.

   There was still ash and dust everywhere. But it was clear enough for him to take a good look around. One thing that interested him was the giant hole in the center of what his slightly recovered memories told him was the living room.

   He didn't see it at first, because of the web's covering the room. He definitely noticed it when he almost fell face first into it.

   Luckily, there were still enough webs to catch his fall, and all the War Spiders -- as he'd decided to name them -- were gone.

   Climbing up out by thick strands of extremely sticky web was one of the worst experiences he'd ever been through in his six months and three weeks of experience.

  Now, he stood at the edge of the hole with the webs cleared. He could see clearly that there was a pretty big area down there.

   Which was also full of webs, and he had no intentions of manually cleaning that shit out from down there. He decided to find a much better way, thus he needed to do some exploration of the surrounding area.

   About a mile west of the abandoned neighborhood, he found a decent lake that was oddly formed in an almost perfect circle, just a bit rough at the edges.

   The water was hideous, murky and full of mud. Looking at it gave him the creeps, like something was lurking within.

   He left, ignoring it.

   He returned to the house and took another look into the hole, before he went through the place to find something to cover it up. He settled on a few doors. They worked and he could step on them without them breaking.

   With that settled, for now, he decided to work on a place to sleep that was more comfortable than the floor. He scavenged in the surrounding homes and found himself some more clothes, and even a mattress that had been buried in someone's basement and escaped the horror some how.

   Two sleepless days and nights later, he had a comfortable little nest in the right front corner of the the 'living room,' made from some salvaged sheets, small boards, and the mattress, with his clothes neatly folded in a box at the left of it.

   He spent the third day blocking off the entrances to the room, before he settled down in the comfortable -- to him at least -- spot to sleep.

   For the first time, Cross had a dream.