Juggling nukes.

Chapter 1

Men in hazmat suits run around the parking lot, caring plastic bags with pieces of radioactive material. Dining plates, forks, books, every day house hold items. All the entrances are sealed with plastic tents and every window covered with sticker foil. “Commissioner, you called me here!” I shout through the heavy rain. “Ah… Claymore, good you could come here with such short notice.” He waves me to follow him in to the tent covering the front entrance. The rain slams my hair deprived head, soaking me in places I did not know could get soaked as I jog bare foot towards the building. As I enter a pool of water forms around my feet, dripping down of my deep green cargo shorts and plain black t-shirt. Four hazmat-men help the commissioner in a suit and hand me one fit for my size. “No suit, I don’t need it.” The hazmat-man doesn’t seem to understand and keeps shoving it at me. The commissioner orders him something over the comlink and the hazmat-man leaves and returns with headphones which he fastens on my head. From the right phone he pulls out a small mike and shouts instructions at me through his mask, pointing at the mike and my mouth. “Fucking mutant hater, I hear three times better than him.” I mutter as I shove past him and through the air sealed part and to the lobby stairs.

 It is an old rust-red brick apartment-building, with old wood plank stairs, no escalator, doesn’t matter, with mutated muscles I could climb up these stair for weeks. What concerns me more is it´s weight capacity. Falling all the way down to the first floor would making getting back up rather tricky. On the first stair landing I can feel the intense radiation coming from the first apartment to my left. I follow the commissioner in to the apartment, were in a small kitchen sit four people, or what were people, a man, woman and two little girls. Their skin charred black and covered in big red blisters. Foamy droll fills their open mouths and leaks down their cheeks, their empty red eyes stair up at the ceiling. At the far end of the kitchen is a small tunnel, a burned tunnel of semi-cool molten brick and black burnt wooden material that leads to the fire escape. “A hole in every apartment and sometimes more than one.” The commissioner says with a grave voice. “Intense amount of radiation but finely tuned to burn only these holes and every living thing in the block.”  He gives me a long pleading stair through the hazmat mask.  After a short silent moment I shatter it with low sigh and a simple “Okay.” Outside the heavy rain slams on the windows………….