Zackary Hannibal Kane's Story

Suddenly, his ears reflexively heard howling in the distance. While he could kill a handful of these bastards with ease, he couldn't kill them all. There were hundreds if not thousands of them in a given nest. One could see it in his face, the frustration of having to quit his "game". He slid the axe back into the modular lightweight load-bearing equipment, MOLLE straps that hung near his hind quarters and slid the shotgun up and back into his hands. Walking over to the creature he, he pressed a boot to its deranged head, and with extreme force--pressed down. It wasn't so much a stomp, as it was similar to gradually applying more and more force until gradually--the bug any everyday person would crush was dead and gone.

He could feel the plates of its skull shifting, slowly shifting beneath his heel until finally, he arched his powerful leg and let forwards. The muscle that was packed into his thigh was incredible; the more he tense the more it became like a compressed spring. But it would be no spring that struck the creature's head, it would me more like a hydraulic jack that did devastating damage; splintered bits of bone and brain matter all combined with the shit one the floor. Cain then walked over to his XM8 and picked it up. He grimaced.

It was all sticky. He hated sticky.

He re-looped the sling around him, settling it behind him as he carried on. He had wasted enough time. He slung the AR around and caught it in his hands. His finger not sliding to trigger the burst of 5.56 rounds loaded, but rather, the 40mm grenade launcher. The high-explosive round waiting in the large-mouthed opening at the end of the barrel eagerly awaited firing. In true Commando style, he 'popped' one of the grenades off. When the propellant was ignited, the higher pressure gases were bled out through vents at reduced pressure to a much larger low pressure chamber pushing the projectile forward. The 40-mm shell, which contained a standard high-explosive grenade with a modified fuze, the cartridge casing contained a heavy cup shape "High Pressure Chamber" in the bottom.

The weapon firing pin struck the percussion primer igniting the propelling charge in the high-pressure chamber. The burning propelling charge generates sufficient pressure to rupture the propellant cup forcing the expanding gases through vent holes into the low-pressure chamber. The rotating band around the projectile engaged the rifling in the launcher tube to impart spin of 3,600 rotations-per-minute to the projectile. The pressure created by the expanding propellant gases in the low-pressure chamber forced the projectile through the launcher barrel with a muzzle velocity of 76 meters per second. The setback force from firing would cause the firing pin in the fuse to be withdrawn from the rotor ball detent, and centrifugal force from projectile rotation caused the rotor ball assembly to align the detonator with the explosive train. The fuse armed after the projectile would traveled approximately 2.4 to 3 meters from the launcher. Upon impact with the target, inertia would cause the inertial ring to act on the push pins, pivoting the levers inward to force the firing pin into the detonator. The detonator ignited the booster charge, and the booster detonated the explosive charge, producing blast and fragmentation of the projectile body.

Their came a deafening blast and the ensuing aftermath he had forged large fireball of his own, which both crumbled the tunnel from which the first set of guardians had come from, and set off the bat winged creatures causing them to create a swirling vortex of bodies as the bat creatures fled into the night skies; screeches would fill the night air as a barrage of flapping wings carried the nimble bodies away and into the ruined cathedrals and skyscrapers that remained. He had scared away the bats, and blocked the most immediate route to the guardians, though it didn't stop them. They could burrow through or come out of one of the many other tunnels.

This was his time to move.

He followed the tracks until he came to a bombed out station area. The growls from behind him told him that more of the guardians were in the vicinity, so he climbed the station platform and with a little effort--scaled the debris that nearly blocked the subway entrance. Clambering out of the stairwell, he was now on the other side of the vast hole that had been gouged. An effort that would have taken several hours longer--perhaps days if one wasn't too careful to avoid the more behemoth classed mutations. Cain's opinion was, if they were bigger than elephant you ran. It didn't matter how bad ass you were elsewhere. Chances were, you were not the bad ass that you thought you were then and there. The highest probability being that their armor rather it be skin, bone or some improvised 'skirt'--was thicker than the biggest bullet you had on you at the time--the level of pain tolerance was vastly and overwhelmingly clear meaning that had you actually made a "dent" it wasn't about to slow down enough to make a difference and lastly but perhaps the most important--he had seen it a thousand times and a thousand times ignorant fools that underestimated the threat their enemies posed proved to be their undoing.

In-fact, that's where most rest of his expeditionary team, had wound up. He had started out with seven in number before he ate the seventh. Six were gone because they were simply idiots and didn't know the first rule of survival. Don't make yourself stand out. If you don't seem like a threat, then you aren't one. If you can't be seen then you can't be eaten. The reason for his pause in the hive, was not because he knew he couldn't kill the enemies--there were just too many enemies for him to kill. He would have, could have spent every clip he had just shooting at targets. Most he would have hit, but those few that he'd have missed--that meant simply that had wasted at least a third of the bullets he was packing. A third of every clip, could easily amount to two full clips.

God, he hated idiots.

But now, his task was before him. He entered the police station. A structure that looked more like an intimidating business center; brandishing forty-six floors in total he wouldn't worry about going up. That wasn't where the fun things were. No, instead he went down and by going down, that meant he pried the elevator doors open and lit a third flare. He dropped it down the shaft. It would either strike the elevator itself eventually, or it would at least help him gauge the depths of the shaft itself.

Surprisingly, it did neither.

When the flare tumbled away, doing the job he had commanded it to--fall. It struck the surfaces of any of the four walls before a distinct sound--the light had gone out suddenly. But in the brevity of the moment, he knew what lie ahead.
Water.
The basement had been flooded. Cain sighed in quiet frustration. He wasn't scared of water. He just didn't like the way it felt against him. Added to that, there was no telling what the threats were down there as he didn't bring a potassium flare with him and with little to no time to build one--he'd have no choice but to say fuck it. A second problem arose. Should he leave his gear here? In the open? He could use a firearm under the water and he'd be heavily encumbered by the sheer weight of his already cumbersome coating of ballistic fibers--which would shrink--steel plating and ceramic tiles.

After a few minutes of self-debating, he grabbed the steel cable that originally held the elevator up, turned around and drew the doors to the elevator closed, took of his beloved armored trench coat, tied it to the cable using the MOLLE system it was devised from, and took the bloody axe handle between his teeth. Without his identifying coat to hide himself, the past years of self-loathing, self-destruction culminating in a perverse sense of self-justification in the shape of scars that reached across his body from both sides exposed his self-mutilation.

He looked like a god damn Frankenstein monster only, the skin was all the same color and was all his body parts attached. He wasn't as big as anyone at first glance would ever give him credit for being. Most simply saw the bulky armor and thought "Well shit, he's got to be pretty fucking beefy under there." That was not the case. He was lean, he didn't even have a "six pack" just a flat, concave stomach. His arms were corded of course, but the solidness of their compact sizes--that was what was deceitful. It belied his brutal nature.

He began shimmying down the extent of the cable, drawing nearer to the water. Before he had begun to descend he drew an empty duffel bag and looped both arms and straddled it against his bare back side. If one were to see him looking down to where he was now, one could see that he too had once began to grow wings. The scars along his shoulder blades foretold of a grueling and barbaric endeavor to allow himself to never reach that level of animal baser instinct.

He could taste the blood of his fellows. Man and beast. He was in a world that didn't believe in one, and wouldn't accept the other. He was a half breed between them; shoved callously in-between a rock and a hard place. Life wasn't about surviving, that was only part of it. It was about coming to terms with he was, what he represented. He was a monument to the human condition and their self-destruction at the hands of the very things they built to keep them safe--were the things in the end to nearly wipe them out. He felt pity for humans, especially those who would mock him with lingering glances. It must have been hard staring into a mirror and realizing on some innate level--this was their fault.

He felt the water swell up around his legs as he began to sink into the murky depths. He took the axe into his hand and switched his hand's grip on the cable be he inhale deeply and plunged. To many, the water would have felt like a thousand sharp, serrated needles piercing the flesh. For Cain though, as long as he had been doing this--practically all of his life-- he hardly felt the old familiar sting. Taking an extensive in hale, he dove under the water, it was strange because there were lights on beneath it, small low-light bulbs that could not permeate past a certain point. Power must not be entirely out in this building.

He swam, by passing floating obstacles; skeleton bodies picked to the bleached bones underneath, office chairs, heavy metal desks. He came to a sub divided wall, a small barred window with a slat, a door adjacent. He bet the door was locked--they always were, how frustrating was that? Instead, he used his musculature power to full effect. Gripping the bars while planting his feet solidly on either side of the wall; the tress was immense, bulging veins along his tightly corded limbs, along his forehead but the cage system was beginning to move and quickly. With a quick burst of full exertion, the segment of wall that held the bars captive gave away.

He discarded the rubble behind him and swam to the vault. Inside he found assault rifles, mostly AR-15's, handguns semi-automatics like model M9 Berettas, a few SIG Sauer P226's, and four Remington 887s with the exception of two Mossenburg 500's. He shoved the shotguns and the hand guns in the bag, while strapping the AR's to his left shoulder. He was running out of air and fast. He quickly made it back out to the hallway, he began to navigate the winding corridors by memory rather than sight because the lights had suddenly failed.

Something bad was about to happen, now wasn't it?

From behind him careened a mutant humanoid. It had fins along its ape-like arms, and its human-like legs. Swiveling around the water, Cain came face to face with this mutant. He had no time to fully think, he was in dangerous territory--it had to be dealt with. He swung his gloved fist which was backed by steel bands beneath the leather and nomex. Slugging the creature had somewhat of a dazed response to it. He wasn't as agile as the abomination was.

It went in for a throat grab, which it got. He quickly anchored Cain to the floor. Cain could feel that rush for survival course through him again; like an adrenaline shot straight through the heart. Endorphins flooding his blood stream causing a whirlwind of euphoria. He could hear his heart beating, thrusting against his rib cage consistently. Dopamine, a major role in the brain system that was responsible for reward-driven learning. Every type of reward that had been studied increased the level of dopamine transmission in the brain, and a variety of highly addictive drugs, including stimulants such as cocaine and methamphetamine, acted directly on the dopamine system. So when he said every time he killed a man, that it felt like a reward--he meant it. When he said killing every creature he had come across had taught him well--it was true.

Yet through this, his lungs were burning on stale air. His oxygen depletion was high enough without having to fight an enemy. Again, his adrenaline kicked in. He slipped one leg over the creature’s shoulder and contorted the second leg to fit under its jaw. With no time to reach back for his tomahawk, he grabbed the back of the head on this monstrosity, and pulled. It was consistent with a mixed martial arts jujitsu lock. It didn't take long before he could feel the vertebrae 'pop' like small detonations and finally the softer bones of its throat caving in.

The creature jerked, it twitched but it was effectively dismantled. He swam quickly then, he was on the verge of drowning. He entered the shaft and burst through the top of the water. Inhaling vast quantities of air he was smitten with himself. He had gotten what he came for. He could go back to town, to Commando Capacity and sell his treasures. He began to ascend the cable. Keeping his legs tightly bound to the cable while his arms hoisted him up.

After an extensive tug and pull scenario, he finally reached where his clothes were tied to. He stepped to the platform and pried the doors back open before he untied his suit and and set his gear down. He was panting, and heavily. Sweat was dripping from every pore on his body; he wasn't just wet from the water. Though the water did help some, it alleviated the heat his body was taking from all the armor. He sat the duffel bags down, then lay the AR-15's down on top. He went through what most would consider a laborious task and double checking everything before he slung the AR's over one shoulder and grasped the handles of the duffel bag in the other hand and started off for the settlements.
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Out of the wastes of the world outside the gates into the settlement, a figure on the searing hot face of the landscape emerged. A lone figure appeared. Bulky in appearance, the heat waves rising from the ground reflected the image as it tread towards the small makeshift town like an approaching plague. Its faceless façade was cloaked by a veil of thick cloth, black goggles and a combat helmet. He looked like a walking tank with the armament that tirelessly toted with him; assault rifles clanking against each other, the duffel bag strapped to his armored backside as was his shotgun. However, as he encroached further and further inland--it became clear that weapons were not the only thing he was carrying.

The town came to life; a whirlwind of voices--whispered concerns, threats to which he acknowledged none, and those that were curious to see this vagabond. To know if he was the one. The Albino Man, supposedly a hybrid that massacred two towns already. What were they to do? He probably had more guns strapped to him, than the whole town itself. And what was that in his right hand? The two guards outside saw what it was first and were taken back and awe struck. They were afraid, they were terrified and he hadn't even had to do anything--yet. Yes, he held the head of one of the town's very own 'elite'. It was clasped tightly in a gloved hand by the scalp. The face was, desiccated from the extreme temperature of the midday sun. The flesh had a leathery texture to its appearance and as one might have the clear notion--was putrefied. The rotten flesh just barely able to cling to the bleached bone beneath. His face had been chewed on but not completely gone. There were some features.

One grabbed his Colt revolver, the hammer cocking back with the assistance of the man's thumb. To the audible 'clicking' action, Cain simply turned his blanketed face towards the man giving him a subtle reminder. You see, his left hand still had the tomahawk out and the skin textured leather gloves he wore--let out a soft squeal of their own as his fingers tightened around the lever-action handle as if to say ' you pull yours, I'll pull mine' without the utterance of a single word between them. The large, round black eyes of Cain's goggles stared emotionless into the face of a panic stricken man who then tried to lift, aim, and fire at Cain.

However, Cain's eyes watched carefully now. In the brevity of the moment the man took to gain his sights, Cain firmly and swiftly came in arc starting from below and traveling upwards at angle until the hatchet burrowed into, and past the man's temple with a sickening 'crack' as bone splintered. The more sickening thing was, was the man was still alive. Lobotomized, but still breathing. There came a harsh, quick yelp from the second sentry as he fumbled for his gun. His hands were shaking, he had backed up quickly to try and put distance between him and Cain.

Cain reeled, pivoting in a 360 degree manner, tearing away the hatchet and sending the body of the man's partner towards him. They both collapsed, backs to stomach. The man's hand still had a hold of his side arm but as soon as he drew it, his wrist bent inwards. There was a second sickening 'pop'. In the micro second that his wrist bent to withdraw, Cain had stomped on the bent compilation of cartilage and bone. The force of which, was an even more grisly sight as the resonating tremors that vibrated through his bone structure from the tour de force blow had, in effect, blown out the bone causing it to crumple and the flesh be perforated in many angles and ways. This man screamed, yet it was on deaf ears when it came to Cain. The city, however, heard this man's wail like a banshee cry.

"But if there is harm, then you shall pay life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, burn for burn, wound for wound, stripe for stripe." Cain uttered, it was from the Book of Exodus. Taking his tomahawk, he turned back to the gates, walking away with the man's mangled arm causing considerable an irreconcilable pain. He brought his boot up, he kicked the doors ajar, and readily moved into town. A great many people fled in terror when they saw the rotten, half eaten head of a man they had formally known. Cain, carried it to the arms dealer that employed him to begin with. With a baffled look of why everyone was running and this lone man was simply...walking. It too made them very nervous, but it was only the beginning of their horror. Cain simply lifted his hand carrying the disembodied head of their field agents. One threw up immediately, the other backed away very quickly. Cain dropped the head on the counter, letting the ten pounds of flesh and bone bounce and roll towards them before carrying the gear that he had gotten onto his own company.

"Hey, Cain I don't know what the hell you are but we're just human so we have to stop for the night that was our plan when we came across the disaster you created in the settlement..." The nineteen year old girl had the balls to tell him how it was going to be. Just shortly before Cain stopped in his tracks, his masked visage turning around just as her father had withdrew her from his proximity. Either he was afraid of Cain, or he had learned to trust no one--in either case he'd be right.

"Shut up dammit, just keep your ass moving and don't think about how tired you are. If we stop and he doesn't we're doomed out here. So we're better off going to wherever he is and then passing out there got it" Henry tried to quiet his daughters fiery temperament.

"Dad this is insane and you know it" The girl attempted to placate her father.

In the end, neither really won this argument. The girl was just as stubborn as her father, the only real difference was--she had no idea where they really were. They had been trudging along through a dried up gorge for all they knew. Hell, they were probably used to having to fight people, not creatures that could paralyze you, or rip your arms off or completely gore you through Kevlar and ceramic plating. She had only seen the surface of this world; rapists and thieves at your back, while a murderer or two at your front. Humans were dangerous because they were so unpredictable, but they were not the apex predators anymore. They hardly were to begin with.

Lowering his XM8, Cain did something very unusual for Cain. In a moment that would extremely tense for any parent regardless of situation, he marched on past Madaline and Henry but as he did so--grabbed the girl by the back of her head and singlehandedly lifted her from the ground as he kept on walking, unhindered by her weight added to the heavier armor he wore strapped around him. He carried the girl to a tree, or what looked like one. It was a stalk of some kind seemingly growing out of the ground--there were many around them. The closer they got, the more putrid the smell.

Cain needless to say, was unaffected. He roughly planted the girl against one of the 'stalks'. There was a mucous like resin, it was a highly sticky substance akin to a jelly that simply would not come off the skin and left a feeling like there was something crawling on her. There wasn't--yet. Holding her there like bait, he slipped out his curved Kabar knife, it honestly looked like a chef's knife that curved twenty degrees at the tip. Despite any of her thrashing, she would be helpless in the end result. The stalk began opening up, splitting with a sickening sound like flesh being peeled from the bone. Much to her horror, Madaline would realize, the stalk was actually once a human being and that coming up from its gullet, into its throat and out through its mouth was what was called a 'Spiderling' They came from much larger species spliced between a human an arachnid.

Pulling her back slowly, he bated the spiderling out. It had eight legs--eight legs that were eerily reminiscent of the human hand and fingers. Its eyes were human-ish. While they were round and did hive an iris color like a humans they remained fixated. It had a bulbous abdomen with spinerets at the end. The spiderling launched itself with quick resolve, but throwing down Madaline his knife hand came up and impaled the creature which sounded almost like a human in agonizing pain. He twisted the knife before he knelt down in front of Madaline with the knife and the spiderling.

"Radiation...doesn't just go away you see...It bleeds into the ground, the water, the air. Why, you're mutating as we speak---one cell at a time. You think a starving human is bad--try letting your guard down with one of these in the area. See, the first thing they do is paralyze you, then, the suck out the pulp in your bones--you know, the bone marrow? With no bone marrow you can't create more cells to fight of the infection--oh and did I tell you how incredibly painful it is? Cause you'll be alive with the hatchlings start to eat you from the inside." Cain took the spider off and tossed it in her lap before standing.

"You're bitching and moaning about being human is fair game for the wild life that is in abundance here. I know of a place up ahead. Until then, we keep moving." Cain told Madaline gravely before his head turned swiftly to the direction they had come from. "Wait here." He commanded, he then took off sprinting--sprinting in two hundred and plus pounds of armor and equipment. He stuck close to the ridge of the river bed. His acute hearing picking up the sound of an engine running--it was not in great condition he might have added to the thought.

Cain crouched low to the ground when the vehicle had drawn near. His silhouette blinding in with that of a tree stump's. As the vehicle continued on, his gloved hands with careful measure grabbed a hold of the edge of the riverbed and scaled it very slowly. Once on top top of the bank, he was in a crouched position. He pulled back the the bolt on his XM8 and stood up, as he began walking--he opened. Some of the bullets ricocheted, but some also found their mark. The rear tires blew stalling the jeep. He let the AR fall as it was on a sling and in a second he had an 870 pump-action shotgun in his hands. He came around to the side of the car already on target. His shoulders were tightly compacted against the weapon and he was somewhat hunched.

"Why are you following me? Are you a bounty hunter?" Cain would inquire, though the man wouldn't see how solemn his face was due to the neoprene balaclava and thick goggles and the shemgh wrapped around his head beneath the helmet that he wore.

"Interesting question sir, coming from a man that just shot the tires out of a random driver." This driver seemed...peculiar to say the least. Although adept--having ceased the car from flipping or running off into the gorge itself he had also managed to draw his side arm a revolver-type. It was a Model 27 .357 Magnum that was highly detailed; etched surfaces and designs along the barrel and cylinder. His hand lifting made Cain tense slightly, you didn't get to be a predator by taking chances. His Model 870 was not your ordinary 'pump'. Attached to it was a fifteen round strap and on top of the gun itself was mounted an eight-shot yoke. The shells themselves would even seem...out of the ordinary. They were not the regular ol' buckshot or deer slugs. In fact, the on loaded in the barrel pointed at Ryan's head and chest area was indeed a sabot round shotgun shell; packed with thirty to forty tungsten carbide fletchettes. Small finned darts that could even pierce lower grade body armor.

Needless to say, at this range, it would really matter, nevertheless, one had to be prepared. The Tungsten Carbide used in the creation of these crude, almost seemingly cruel devices was three times stiffer than steel and was denser than either steel or titanium. Its hardness was comparable to corundum or sapphires on a hardness scale. However, as the man revealed his intent, to remove his bandanna, Cain gave a little slack but his finger was still hovering over the trigger.

"I do happen to be a bounty hunter, but you are obviously not my target. I was informed that he was in this general direction by that village over yonder, one that I had heard that you had been to." He knew immediately what shanty village he had just referred to. It was not in his habitual nature to remember towns, but seeing how he had just left it a few hours ago it was hard not to recall it. "I had originally been hoping to just be on my way, or ask if any of your party had seen my bounty, but now I am missing 2 tires..." He watched as the bounty hunter slowly lowered his weapon in submission and then signaling for his friend to lower his as well. Cain readily did not lower his. It was too much of a risk. However he did back off a few feet.

His nostrils had long since caught the smell of dog. He had nothing against them personally. Yet, as he was accustom to be a scavenger and hunting, foraging for things rather than simply buying them, he looked over at the dog. The canine companion, in lieu of a higher more dangerous predator, whimpered and lowered its ears from Cain just looking at him. The animals senses told it he was the dominant force naturally and it wanted nothing to do with Cain.

"You would be better off walking, loud noises stir things best left undisturbed" Cain's voice was astonishingly clear, and very grave in its tone. "Oh here, the currency is blood, nothing else will suffice." He told the two from behind the thick mask and black goggles. Yet, his carmine colored eyes stared out towards them, leaving them with a feeling that he was watching very carefully and it wasn't from fear. The reptilian slits that his pupils were, would shock an appall any number of folks. He was after all, the only hybrid mutant that anyone had ever heard about. Though they called him "Albino Man" few had ever seen his actual skin tone to confirm it. "Are you going to eat that dog?" Cain would inquire, his tone was suggestive that they actually eat the dog for a meal.

Ryan raised an eyebrow when Argo whimpered at the man. Already Ryan could deduce a few things about this person, and none of them were very... normal. For starters, he was highly intimidating - although anybody could when they held a shotgun to your face - and very aggressive. Argo rarely whimpered, but when he did it was in the shadow of another predator, one that was usually extremely fierce and dangerous. The man had shot out his tires without any rhyme or reason, and the worst part? The man had the audacity to start lecturing him about the terrain.

You would be better off walking, loud noises stir things best left undisturbed Once again, Ryan raised an eyebrow. It was as if this man thought he was the only one that had been living in the wilderness for the past 5 years, scrambling through the barren wastelands and fighting off monstrosities. Yet even if that was what his words meant to Ryan, the tone the man gave off was just that of a man warning a fellow of the dangers around, with quite good clarity if Ryan could add. Oh here, the currency is blood, nothing else will suffice. Ryan couldn't stop himself, so he burst into a little laugh. The whole thing was simply amusing.

"Like the rest of this world isn't." The laughter stopped slowly, and Ryan jumped out of his jeep and began to walk to the back while Pat yawned. The cat really didn't care about the situation, for he knew he could simply just hide if anything felt like bothering him. Argo, who was a little too big to hide in cramped areas, was still scared of the masked man and Ryan rolled his eyes. " Let's be frank here mister: Currency doesn't exist anymore. Survival is the new currency, and how you achieve your survival is your business. However, mine usually requires a ride of some form, so this jeep here is one of my survival tactics, along with a few others." He began changing the tires with extreme speed when the most bizarre question he had ever heard came from the masked man's lips.

Are you going to eat that dog? Ryan stopped what he was doing, an incredulous look on his face, mixed in with a little shock. Ryan could never imagine eating Argo, that was just.. completely insane. I mean, this guy even sounds like he would! I... am at a loss for words. When Ryan finally got his train of thought collected, he shook his head and said to the man with that incredulous look still on his face. "Nope. Wouldn't dream of it. Argo's been with me ever since I was a kid, and he's really useful for tracking scents. Besides, " he paused, unsure if he should continue. "I rarely have to eat anything anymore. I guess you could consider that another survival tactic of mine. I believe the last time I ate was about a week ago..." He tried to see if he could think back that far, but his thoughts were interrupted by a man and a lady talking in the background. From the harshness of the man's voice, he could only speculate that he was in the army, and the lady was his daughter. He also picked up the masked man's name: Cain, or something like that. He turned to this Cain person and asked him his only question.

"So, since we are stopped, might I inquire where you would be off to with a man and what I am guessing is his daughter?" He said it loud enough that the two others could hear him as he finished up the first tire and moved onto the next.

"Like the rest of this world isn't." The man would laugh in his face. His complacency...bugged him. It made his eye twinge. He hated disrespect, rudeness. Yet, with his mask on, the man couldn't see his jaw, swiveling back and forth--grinding his human-enough looking teeth very tensely against one another. However, his leather glove betrayed his otherwise calm demeanor, groaning as it stretched. It stretched because his hand tightened around the pistol-grip of the 12 gauge pump. " Let's be frank here mister: Currency doesn't exist anymore. Survival is the new currency, and how you achieve your survival is your business. However, mine usually requires a ride of some form, so this jeep here is one of my survival tactics, along with a few others."

Drawing in a deep breath of air, his lungs inflated and chest pressed outwards before he exhausted the air supply and he gradually went back to his normal self. Calm. Keep yourself calm. He thought. There is no need to shoot him, you're certain one way or another he will learn what happens when you put a loud noise next to a hornets nest, right? Cain suddenly, and although it was hidden, smiled. Strangely enough, he lowered his shotgun. He even released it before he revealed his master plan--logic. " Tell me, as a fellow traveler--I am sure you are accustomed to various tribal 'pockets' of human activity, right?" His fingers loosely threaded with one another and although unarmed, he was not without the capacity to squeeze of the fletchette round.

"I'm sure they were very dangerous; killing one another for bullets, and food, and clothes--hounding you for the same I bet." His words were of course, all true as he had traveled the many islands and bits of continent left. Even the ones where radiation was highly lethal for any human to go. But he also seemed highly educated, very unlike the normal rabble of today's society where most couldn't even spell their names. "I'm sure it must have been very scary for you, to be shot at--had rocks thrown at you--maybe a fashioned stick or two?" He was now being his own form of condescending, the very worst kind. A truth filled kind. The kind that would speak volumes about a person.

"There is a margin that exists," Cain said to Ryan. Though rather than being flat out pompous with it--his voice was very sincere. " Between predator and between prey. One does not simply become a predator because he unts something else. Tsk, tsk, tsk. Oh no, that's not how it works. He slowly reached back, pulling out what looked to be a red bandanna. Hunting something simply makes you a hunter, it does not make you a predator. What makes you a predator, is simply--survival of the fittest." Cain stepped very calmly, perhaps unnervingly towards Ryan and while he was knelt down paying his attention to the tire exchange--laid the hand right in front of him. Whispering into the young man's ear. "Whatever I catch, I eat. Flesh is flesh. Human. Dog. Mutant. There are things here that are not out in those other places. You had best have a lot of guns when you attract the spiderlings...Or you're going to wish you had never had a dog once it gets bit by one."

He quickly tore off a finger, simply snapped the bones to such a degree that the shards severed whatever flesh, muscle and tendon was in the way. It was like he was simply chewing on jerky as he walked away. The crunch of bones sickeningly found their resonance from his mouth muffled but eerily loud enough to hear from the close proximity. He left the remainder there as he stepped away from Ryan, with his back turned to the man he headed for the gorge before he heard Ryan call out to him, and the others.

"So, since we are stopped, might I inquire where you would be off to with a man and what I am guessing is his daughter?"

"You might inquire, but then I again I might decline. You see, that man and his daughter have two things in common with being in my fellowship--one they aren't nosy, two they don't make a lot of sounds. At least, I hope I got through her head. The girl does still have some naivety in her, but she'll grow out of that in a hurry when her belly's empty. People tend to do a lot of things to survive that they wouldn't otherwise." Cain replied, before turned and jumped the twenty or so feet to the bottom of the river bed. His hyper dense muscles contracted upon impact, absorbing the recoil from it. He was only knelt one knew before he rose to both feet and carried on to Henry and Madaline.

"I'm afraid we might have a change of plans, this place will be crawling with spiderlings if he keeps that infernal machine running. We'll have to climb up the other side of the gorge and make a rather large outward sweep to get out of range of the vibrations that thing gives off. That is what they are attracted to. That webbing is everywhere, and wherever it is they can feel. But there has to be enough pressure to set the trap so to speak. I don't know about you two, but I want to well clear of them when they start to fester and roam."

Madeline looked over at Cain with a look of detest, because her father had chosen to follow him they were in this situation.

"I'm afraid we might have a change of plans, this place will be crawling with spiderlings if he keeps that infernal machine running. We'll have to climb up the other side of the gorge and make a rather large outward sweep to get out of range of the vibrations that thing gives off. That is what they are attracted to. That webbing is everywhere, and wherever it is they can feel. But there has to be enough pressure to set the trap so to speak. I don't know about you two, but I want to well clear of them when they start to fester and roam." Cain said after leaving the man in the Jeep behind.

Madeline looked back at the other man, and then looked at Cain "So your just gonna leave him" she said.

A growl came from Henry "He was the one stupid enough to come barreling through here with that damn car let him be spider chow the idiot" he said as he trudged along behind the two younger people.

Madeline shook her head And continued following Cain in silence, she didn't want to ensue any kind of reaction from him before they got to wherever he was taking them. After the stunt he pulled with the spider before, she wondered if he wasn't just leading them so he could off them. Either way she was going to keep her eyes on him just in case she had to take matters into her own hands.

It was nice to finally sit down and Madeline still sat in silence as her father pulled out some food tossing it to her. She kept glancing over at Cain, what was it about him that made her father decide that this was a good idea. "Eat dammit I don't want to hear your bitching later" said Henry as he pulled the aluminum lid off of whatever he had decided to eat. Madeline looked down at her what her father had tossed in her lap, and soon began to eat it.

"I'm going to hunt." said Cain.

It kind of startled Madeline at first she hadn't heard him speak in a normal tone of voice. Yet she staid quiet and nodded acknowledging his statement, frankly she didn't want to know exactly what he ate. But she was in an odd way curious about him as well. So cold and cruel what could happen to him to make him this way. Yes the world was harsh, but was it truly a reason to loose your humanity, what makes you different from the monsters that try to kill you.

She went back to eating and hoped that he might give up on them and move on, she could convince her father to defer if that were to happen.

Henry sat there the mans screams in his ears he just tried to ignore it and think of other things the then brutality that Cain was performing. But he knew that Madeline wouldn't stand for it.

Madeline shot up like she'd been shot when she heard a man agonizing screams, like nails on a chalk board. She looked on in horror at what Cain was doing "No stop!" she yelled, her heart sank how could anyone even do such a thing. It was inhumane, she could stand for it she thought as she started to run towards him. Henry shot up grabbed her and slammed her to the ground "Just stay put and let it be you hear, they were after us anyway best that he eats them and not us. So for the both of us keep your mouth shut and you ass out of the way" he said leaning into her ear.

"Da..ad you can't just let him do.. that. It's wrong... it's monstrous" she said from her father weight on her back.

"Then plug your ears and cover your eyes cause it aint gonna be pretty, sometimes you live longer when with the monsters then the other things much worse. A meal is a meal and I never said he was human" he said sitting down her back.

"How... can you....let him do this... No!" she yelled.

Henry went flying as she jumped up suddenly sending him flying off her back. He sat there in shock not believing that she was strong enough to knock him over.
"I'll be damned" he said, but realized she was running towards Cain and his meal. "Shit!" he jumped up again "Don't be stupid Maddie!" he yelled after her.

Madeline didn't pay attention to what Cain looked like, how he was dressed, what color he was. None of that crossed her mind, all she could think of is that he wasn't all monster there had to be reasoning with him. She ended up running and crashing right into Cain's chest, "Please... God please... don't do this... you don't have to do this. I beg you I'll do anything but please... don't do what your doing, you can think me weak or eat me yourself but don't torture him like that" she said.

"Are you fucking out of your mind! that man would have killed us and your trying to protect by offering yourself. You are so damn stupid girl get the hell out of the way and let him finish the job!" Henry yelled at a safe distance.

Madeline felt tears well up in her eyes "Whether he would have killed us or not is beside the point..." she put her hand up on Cain's chest. "Please... no one deserves this" she begged. "I can't believe that there is nothing to you... but killing. I know your not completely human, but there has to be some humanity left in you. So please... don't do this" she said waiting for her fate. She knew it was possible that he could easily kill her and eat her as this man he was "preparing" but she couldn't be witness to his complete downfall of that. In her heart she felt that if every lost compassion for anyone, that there really wasn't a point in living anymore. To totally give up on your humanity, and become a monster that is a fate worse the death.