Europe, distant future. A meteorite impacted on the area of Russia, turning the area into a dead zone. Moreover, it emits a strange radiance which increases the impact survivors and their offsprings' endurance and strength, but also causing them to...
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The place really resembles a marketplace - there are crowds of people loudly discussing and negotiating with each other. No walls divide the space. I can see numerous men in black uniforms and helmets with firearms in their hands - I presume these are the Hunters, the people who raid the Dead Zone to capture Castaways.
The cause of all the fuss is scattered all around the place. Each Castaway is placed in an U-shaped booth - there is no visible glass or forcefield to keep them in, I wonder why don't they just run away. Are they scared of the Hunters? Probably, these guys look threatening.
I start to roam the marketplace to take a look at the Castaways. Sometimes it's hard since there is a crowd of people standing in front of the cubicle - it's not rare that several people want the same Castaway and it has to be settled with an auction. Well, at least I know which ones should I rule out - they are probably way beyond my possibilities. I have to notice the overlooked booths.
The Castaways sit in them on a simple chair. They are wearing only some kind of skin-tight white underwear so the buyers can see all their deformities and imperfections. After the Castaways started to be available for purchase, they had to be completely naked, but this was quickly fixed by the first wave of Castaway rights activists. And thank God for that, it had to be really embarassing.
Some of them have an apathetic look in their eyes, another ones look excited, prepared for anything Fate throws at them. A few Castaways are genuinely terrified. They come in both genders, all shapes and sizes. There are burly, muscular ones alongside lean and athletic and also several thin, malnourshed ones.
The Radiance worked its magic on all of them. Missing, deformed or atrophied limbs are the most common. Some Castaways are missing an eye, another batch is deformed by tumors which can be, fortunately, easily operated and removed. Nearly all of them have pigment scars somewhere on their bodies.
With melancholy, I look at the giant, strong ones which are most frequently scanning the possible buyers with their intense gaze. I'm aware they are too expensive for me, so my dream of having a Champion similar to Spartan seems to be gone. I'll have to start with something smaller.
I pass a cubicle with a tall, slim female Castaway with black hair and piercing blue eyes. She's completely missing one arm, but the rest seems to be alright. Her face, midriff and left leg are sprinkled with pigment scars which don't even need removing - they look like war paints, symbols of her strength.
I look at her. She looks at me with raised eyebrows. She reminds me of Nightingale a bit.
A seller in a black shirt passes by. I stop him with a raised hand. "How much for this one?" I ask.
"Two thousands," he replies. "Not negotiable."
"What?! So much?"
"She's quality material, can't you see? She'll make a perfect Champion. Such Castaways aren't sold for a grand. I recommend you to look elsewhere."
