“What are they doing?”
“In this day and age, men trade their lives while women trade their flesh. That’s how the world works!”
Cloudhawk was slightly stunned.
“You’ll see people like them everywhere. Give’m a piece of bread and you can play with their bodies however you like. The tents, the back rooms, the alleyways, the intersections… they really are everywhere.” Slyfox was an experienced old hand in this regard and put his knowledge on full display, not really caring whether Cloudhawk understood or not. “Problem is, the streetwalkers are no good. Most of them have mutations and if you screw’m enough you’ll catch something from’m. The better ones are generally found in bars or in someone’s private collection. Those’ll be a bit more expensive.”
Slyfox continued to impart his wisdom, but Cloudhawk didn’t hear a single thing the fat man said. His attention was completely focused upon one woman sitting on the ground. She was so gaunt that she seemed to have no flesh on her bones; she really was nothing more than skin and bones. A festering sarcoma covered half her face and most of her hair had fallen out, revealing a large number of pus-filled pimples. In her arms, she held an infant wrapped in tattered rags.
The foul stench of rot and decay emanated from the rags. Clearly, the infant had died many days ago.
The look in the woman’s eyes stirred something in Cloudhawk’s heart. He had seen this look on far, far too many occasions, a look of despair, pain, and complete numbness, almost as if she had fallen into a hell of endless darkness, never to see a sliver of light again. Her ruined body still struggled at death’s door, but she herself was already mentally dead.
“The fuck you looking at?” Slyfox irritably slapped Cloudhawk upside the head. “I’m warning you. From the looks of her, she’s probably filled with all kinds of mutations. If you screw her, your dick will probably rot off inside!”
Cloudhawk was dragged away by the mercenaries. As for the woman, she just sat there with her rotting baby in her arms, not moving at all. It was as if she herself were nothing more than a corpse waiting to rot away. As for the passing travelers, few of them spared her a glance. Most of them had long since grown accustomed to such sights.
Cloudhawk began to grow confused. Weren’t all excavators supposed to be able to dress in warm clothes, eat warm bread, and drink clean water? Why was what he saw completely different from what he had imagined?!
It was like his excitement and anticipation had been doused in a pail of icy water. It was like a child eagerly unwrapping a present, only to find a pile of shit inside.
The outpost had quite a few crude shop stalls. However, there was no money here; the system was operated purely through bartering, with food, bullets, and fuel being the most commonly used instruments of trade.
Next to them was a small inn, not quite thirty square meters in size, filled with murky smoke. A young, lithe, and completely nude woman stood atop a stage, writhing about undulously under the dim lighting. Her rear was so perky that quite a few of the men nearby wanted to step up and give it a hard squeeze.
“Slaaaaves! Slaves for sale!”
Further up ahead was a fierce-faced slave trader standing atop a dais, spittle flying from his mouth as he extolled his products… three women and two men.
“They are absolutely clean, guaranteed. No sicknesses. No mutations. You can bring the women and add them to your private collection. They have firm tits and perky asses. I guarantee they are worth the money!”
“The men are strong and muscular. They’ll be good workers. If you spend a bit of time and effort on them, they’ll be strong gladiators as well. They might even win you some money in the gladiator pits. Don’t miss out!”
The three women and two men allowed others to touch and squeeze them as they pleased. They didn’t look to be in despair or pain; instead, they smiled in a pandering fashion, hoping to find a good master who would treat them well.
A wind blew through a nearby alleyway, bringing with it the stench of rotting corpses. Every day, one or two people would die within these side alleys and hidden corners. There was nothing strange about this.
Smokes, wine, women… lust, violence, corruption… these were the main themes of this place and the smell of decadence and moral decay filled every inch of it.
Men traded their lives. Women traded their flesh.
Heaven for the strong. Hell for the weak.
Cloudhawk was beginning to understand what Slyfox had told him.
In the center of the outpost stood an erect stone stele, on which a few rules seemed to have been written with blood. The stone stele only described the rules and not the accompanying punishments… but the burnt and blackened stakes next to them quietly explained it all! Every single stake had badly burnt corpses tied to it by steel chains. In the outpost, there was just one type of punishment: execution by fire!
“See that?” Slyfox pointed as he spoke. “That place up ahead is the private residence of the outpost commander. I’m warning you right now – stay the hell away from that place. They’ll crush you as easily as a cockroach and would care less!”
The towering building Slyfox was pointing to could be seen from the outpost gates, as prominent as a crane within a flock of chickens. Electric lights could be seen illuminating the rooms within the building. Electricity… this was an extremely precious and rare commodity. There were very few scavengers in the wastelands who were lucky enough to excavate a power generator of the Ancient Times or had the skills to create one. Only a very, very elite few were able to make use of this precious resource.
So this was the commander’s residence?
Cloudhawk couldn’t help but fantasize about what was inside. What sort of three-headed, six-armed freak could possibly be so powerful as to control and command an outpost like this? Be so mighty as to ensure that even fierce fellows like Slyfox and Mad Dog had no choice but to comply, not daring to revolt?
“You came at just the right time.” Slyfox stared at the words on the stone stele and sighed. “A year ago, Blackflag Outpost was ten times as chaotic as it is now. You’d see rape and murder out in the open, with both slave traders and “meat merchants” hunting and grabbing people with impunity. Ever since the new commander arrived, things have taken a turn for the better. She personally wrote all the words on this stone stele.”
“New commander? What happened to the old one?”
“Whaddya think?” Slyfox looked at Cloudhawk as if he were an idiot. “Killed, of course! There’s no such thing as a permanent commander. Every so often, an old commander will be killed and the killer will become the new commander. Eventually, he’ll be killed and replaced as well. People always follow the strong. If you think you are tough enough, you can go and challenge the commander as well!”
Slyfox and Mad Dog were tough, but they were still nothing more than mercenaries. They relied on the outpost to provide them with the information and missions they needed to earn their commissions and feed themselves. They would never dare disobey the commander or to try to take that position for themselves. As for Cloudhawk, he wouldn’t even dare to imagine such a thing!
A raucous commotion could be heard coming from up ahead. More than ten men dressed like outpost guards and wearing breathing masks worked together to drag an enormous corpse forward.
Amazingly enough, they were actually dragging a long, strange beast roughly half a meter thick. Its sticky skin secreted a mucous-like fluid that instantly drenched the ground beneath it, producing a series of corrosive sizzling sounds that caused Cloudhawk’s blood to run cold.
Although the beast was only half a meter thick, it was roughly ten meters long. Not too far from the soldiers was an area where the ground seemed to have been churned. There was also an opening in the ground roughly half a meter in diameter. The surrounding area was covered in that mucous-like fluid. There were a number of corpses on the ground as well. Those corpses had all been heavily corroded to the point where they looked as though they we
re made of melting wax.
“Oh, fuck, another giant earthworm? For fuck’s sake, that’s the second one this month!”
Cloudhawk had never seen such a terrifying creature before. “W-what is that?!”
Slyfox shook his head. “When you have this many people gathered together in an outpost… if I was a mutabeast, I’d choose this place as my hunting grounds as well. Still, for a few to appear every so often is nothing. The real thing you have to worry about is a mutabeast wave. That’s what ends up wrecking most outposts.”
“Hah. Relaaaax. Nothing to be scared of.” One of the veteran mercenaries patted Cloudhawk on the shoulders. “You’ll get used to it, if you live long enough.”
As the outpost soldiers dragged the terrifying corpse through the streets, the nearby passersby all made way without even glancing at them. Were they really used to such things?
Cloudhawk suddenly felt as though he were walking on thorns. Every single step he took made him feel extremely uncomfortable.
9 The Mercenary Base
The Tartarus mercenaries’ base was a stand-alone compound protected by stone walls and iron barbed wire. The grounds were littered with boulders, pillars, sandbags, wooden rakes, and other training equipment. Many different pieces of metallic parts and other miscellaneous items were also spread throughout the area.
The compound had several large, ragged-looking buildings all connected to each other. There was a dormitory, a repair shop, and even a storage vault. Although they all looked quite ugly, nobody in the wastelands gave a damn about appearances. Just having these things was already incredibly impressive!
Judging from their base, these mercenaries truly did have some standing here. That meant this should be a fairly safe place, right?
Just as this thought entered Cloudhawk’s mind, a savage and ferocious black figure suddenly roared and charged straight towards him. It moved with incredible speed! It was so fast that Cloudhawk wasn’t even able to see the creature clearly. All Cloudhawk could tell was that it looked like an enormous beast. The creature knocked Cloudhawk to the ground, towering over him. The creature emanated a horrifying, nauseating stench and bit downwards towards Cloudhawk’s neck with its long, savage teeth.
“WOOLA!” Mad Dog immediately let out an explosive shout. “STOP THAT!”
The crazy beast halted its assault, baring its teeth and growling before it took a few steps back. Its dark-red eyes, however, continued to stare at Cloudhawk unblinkingly. The creature remained in a crouched attacking position, as though unwilling to just let go of this delectable prey.
“Fuck me. Which sonufabitch let Woola out? Get the rope!” Mad Dog let out a loud shout, while Cloudhawk managed to calm down slightly as he clambered to his feet.
This strange creature looked like a big ape. It had to weigh at least sixty or seventy kilograms and its head was three times larger than that of a normal human being. It had a big nose and a big mouth that stretched all the way back to its ears, seeming to split its head in half when it snarled. Its mouth was filled with sharp, shark-like teeth; there had to be at least three or four rows of teeth! It could probably bite through metal armor without an issue. Flesh and bone was even less of an issue!
The creature had a total of six thick and powerful arms. As for its speed? Cloudhawk had just borne witness to it personally; it most likely moved faster than the majority of wastelands creatures.
Why would the mercenaries have such a strange beast in their headquarters?
“Don’t worry. We’ve been raising Woola here in the compound. It has a very sharp nose and whenever someone it doesn’t recognize tries to barge in, it’ll deal with the trespasser the same way it just dealt with you. It’s been fed on man-meat ever since it was young. It’d gnaw all the flesh off your bones in just a few minutes.” Mad Dog personally held the creature back and started tying him up again. The creature shook its large head repeatedly unhappily, but even it was unable to resist Mad Dog’s strange, frightening strength. “Be a good boy, Woola. Later, I’ll go to the black market and get you your favorite snack: a human leg!”
The creature had eyes, a mouth, a nose, and even fingers. Although it was incredibly twisted-looking and ugly, Cloudhawk had the strange feeling that this creature… was actually some sort of highly mutated human being!
A strange look on his face, Cloudhawk asked, “What the hell is it?”
“You’ve probably guessed already. This here is a mutant. Its parents might’ve been normal humans like us, but it underwent heavy mutations in its mother’s womb. From what I heard, it chewed its way through its mother’s guts and belly, then clawed its way out,” Mad Dog began to explain. “It was captured shortly after it was born, and we’ve raised it and trained it like a dog ever since. Critter’s actually a perfect watchdog for our base!”
Cloudhawk could hardly believe it. He didn’t want to believe it. You could actually train a mutant the same way you would a dog?! But it was true that this “Woola” creature really could no longer be considered a human being either.
Still, because it was once human, Woola was cleverer than ordinary animals. At the very least, it could understand the human language and human speech. And yet, it was even more savage and bloodthirsty than most animals. In short, it was an absolutely terrifying freak of nature!
This entire time, Woola’s gaze never left Cloudhawk's face. Drops of saliva continued to drip out of its mouth, causing Cloudhawk to shiver with fear. He could sense the animosity and hostility radiating from the freak’s eyes.
“Hey, boss-men Mad Dog and Slyfox! Y’all came back already?” The entire mercenary group had roughly twenty or thirty people and most of them had arrived by now. The mercenary group was divided into a total of three squads and two of the squad captains were Slyfox and Mad Dog.
The third captain was a tall and skinny Asian. He had a pallid complexion, dark baggy eyes, and wore a pair of spectacles. On the surface, he looked quite calm and weak and he was dressed in very proper-looking clothes that didn’t seem all that remarkable. And yet… in this day and age, to appear completely ordinary and normal was, in and of itself, extremely abnormal. In fact, it could be said that he had a scholarly aura which was completely anachronistic in this era.
“Hey, Mantis!” Slyfox chortled as he walked over to the man. “Man, I’m happy to make it back in one piece and see you again.”
Mantis adjusted his glasses, a frigid metallic light gleaming from them. His eyes weren’t that large, but they were as cold as steel and seemed to contain no human emotion whatsoever. When Mantis turned to stare at Cloudhawk, the latter instantly felt a chill enter his heart and spread out through his limbs. He felt as though he could barely move or breathe.
The gaze was like a sharp scalpel placed against his throat. The slightest motion would result in his throat being cut.
In this place, everyone who had a nickname was a figure of no small ability. Mantis might not necessarily be as powerful as Slyfox or Mad Dog, but Cloudhawk had the feeling that he was even more dangerous. It was like the difference between a cobra and a lion: the cobra might not be as strong as the lion, but a cobra hidden in the darkness could be even more dangerous than the lion.
“We picked up a scav on our way back.” Slyfox beamed at Mantis, his chubby face an amusing, complete contrast to Mantis’ emotionless visage. Slyfox then added, “He’s a recovery-oriented meta. Not really worth a damn, but we’re lacking in the logistics department so I let’m in.”
A recovery meta? Those were almost useless! The mercenaries turned their scornful gazes upon Cloudhawk, making him extremely uncomfortable and also irritated. What gave them the right to look down on him like that? Were recovery metas really as useless as they claimed? Ever since he was born, Cloudhawk had always been a stubborn person who never liked to admit inferiority to others. He simply couldn’t stand being looked down upon by these people.
“Enough, kid. You should be leaping for joy at having been recruited into Tartarus. We have
a sterling reputation in this outpost… but lemme make it clear to you right now, you aren’t here to just loaf around and enjoy life! Starting today, you’ll only be given two pieces of bread and one bottle of water each day. In exchange, you do whatever the hell we tell you to do. No whining and no foot-dragging. Can’t handle it? Then fuck off. Tartarus ain't charity! Got it?”
Cloudhawk relaxed his clenched fists. “Got it.”
Slyfox looked excited as he said, “We made out like bandits on this mission. We need to hold a celebration!”
“HAH!”
“Long live the boss!”
These men were like beasts: they lived off of their weapons and the blood of others. No one knew what the morrow might bring and so they had long since grown accustomed to enjoying today.
Cloudhawk had no idea how mercenaries celebrated, but he was both hungry and thirsty. All he hoped for was some food to eat.
The skies slowly began to darken. By now, the mercenaries had produced a large amount of food and cheap wine. Life in the outpost really was thousands of times better than life in the ruins, at least in terms of food. The mercenaries had access to both meat and vegetables! The meat came from all kinds of mutabeasts, was served on platters, and had actually been properly cooked. Cloudhawk was able to smell their enticing aroma from far away.
By now, Woola had been tied up. One of the mercenaries came over with a giant bowl filled with chopped up bits of raw, bloody meat. Woola immediately dug into the meat, devouring it with abandon. The mutant even chewed up and crunched the bones, swallowing everything. As for what type of creature the meat came from and what body parts were involved? Cloudhawk simply couldn’t even begin to imagine the answer. Unfortunately, Woola continued to stare intently at Cloudhawk even as it continued to devour its food. Cloudhawk was terrified of moving closer to Woola, for fear of being pounced on and killed on the spot.
Damn that beast!
Woola sniffed the air a few times with its large black nose before it suddenly stopped eating as it raised its head and began to roar gutturally. Right at this moment, nearly twenty or so scantily-clad women came in from outside. Although all of them had coarse skin and sickly faces, they were indeed far better than the streetwalkers Cloudhawk had seen earlier.
The Wastelander Page 8
