Post by thejman on Dec 13, 2016 3:41:35 GMT
(This is just a short WIP of a story that will eventually become a comic. Wanted to get some feedback.)
The night was dead outside the city district, where a wall separates mutates like me from the populated areas. I used to be a normal maned wolf fighting tooth and nail for scrap parts to sell and get enough to buy a ration or a ready-to-eat meal (M.R.E) for me and the only family I had, my girlfriend. Then the day came when the lot of us stumbled upon a ghost town that was draped in an eerie fog. We realized too late that this fog was acually fallout from a ruptured nuclear power plant nearby. We all choked and burned from the inside, out when we made the mistake of hunting the dying fauna in the area. I watched some of my closest friends burn alive as the clutchef their last scavenged parts, not realizing that the scrap was caked in radiation. Me and my girlfriend got out quick, but not unscathed. It took years for it to completely happen, but the radiation poisoning caused me to grow a second pair of eyes and warped my pupils into a slit shape. I was fourteen years old.
At sixteen, I had grown sick of the teasing and saved up enough to afford an expensive proceedure that involved installing mechanical servos in my joints to increase my strength, and infusing my skin with a material, of which I can't pronounce, that made sections my fur itself resistant to the blades of hard-light weapons and other blunt-force trauma. I traded a lot of shiny hardware for that, believe me. I had long since forgotten my birth name, so with this new look, I made a new one. Every scavenger I knew called me "Blue" for my blue eyes. So I incorporated that to create "Proces Blu" or just Blu for short.
Now, I'm nineteen, and me and my girlfriend had been hard at work, trying to get the Derelict Tank that we run a shop out of, working again. We didn't come to the city often, but when we did, every one of the poor under dwellers came up to our tank with a need to be fulfilled, and that got us both barely enough money to last us on those horrible rations we couldn't bear to grow accustomed to. We didn't complain; it was a way to live, and I had taught myself to use my high-frequency blade if there was a problem. Though most of the trouble makers take of running the moment i take off my goggles to show them my four eyes. That is...until we met one of the band of four crime lords known as the "Skulls". Believe it or not, she had come to buy something.
My name is Proces Blu, and I have survived another day.
The night was dead outside the city district, where a wall separates mutates like me from the populated areas. I used to be a normal maned wolf fighting tooth and nail for scrap parts to sell and get enough to buy a ration or a ready-to-eat meal (M.R.E) for me and the only family I had, my girlfriend. Then the day came when the lot of us stumbled upon a ghost town that was draped in an eerie fog. We realized too late that this fog was acually fallout from a ruptured nuclear power plant nearby. We all choked and burned from the inside, out when we made the mistake of hunting the dying fauna in the area. I watched some of my closest friends burn alive as the clutchef their last scavenged parts, not realizing that the scrap was caked in radiation. Me and my girlfriend got out quick, but not unscathed. It took years for it to completely happen, but the radiation poisoning caused me to grow a second pair of eyes and warped my pupils into a slit shape. I was fourteen years old.
At sixteen, I had grown sick of the teasing and saved up enough to afford an expensive proceedure that involved installing mechanical servos in my joints to increase my strength, and infusing my skin with a material, of which I can't pronounce, that made sections my fur itself resistant to the blades of hard-light weapons and other blunt-force trauma. I traded a lot of shiny hardware for that, believe me. I had long since forgotten my birth name, so with this new look, I made a new one. Every scavenger I knew called me "Blue" for my blue eyes. So I incorporated that to create "Proces Blu" or just Blu for short.
Now, I'm nineteen, and me and my girlfriend had been hard at work, trying to get the Derelict Tank that we run a shop out of, working again. We didn't come to the city often, but when we did, every one of the poor under dwellers came up to our tank with a need to be fulfilled, and that got us both barely enough money to last us on those horrible rations we couldn't bear to grow accustomed to. We didn't complain; it was a way to live, and I had taught myself to use my high-frequency blade if there was a problem. Though most of the trouble makers take of running the moment i take off my goggles to show them my four eyes. That is...until we met one of the band of four crime lords known as the "Skulls". Believe it or not, she had come to buy something.
My name is Proces Blu, and I have survived another day.