New Recruits
Buildings stood, worn and tattered, their windows unwashed for ages. They were as gray and drab as the streets that ran between them, but such would not last long. Soon, they would flow with blood. The area was one of the few from the Old World that was left standing after the wave of ensuing disasters. This meant modern resources and convinces, which could be as basic as roofs over head. Rivaling gangs constantly squabbled over the area, but one held it longer than any other, and were currently dominating the space: the Rebels. Dregs, lowlifes, and freaks, they were one of the first groups to rise in power in the Dead World as well as one of the most powerful despite their small numbers. The entire metropolis was their own, and it served as their playground. They did not have plans to give it up, especially with the several food stores. A box of canned goods lasted a long time, and sharing was not the Rebel way.
"You wish to earn your keep, chaps?" shouted a blond man in a tattered blue shirt over a hail of gun fire that ripped above the car they ducked behind for cover. "You're going to have to prove yourselves useful. And, by that, I mean not die while making them do just the opposite." The opposition was meager, and Despair knew it. He could single handedly eradicate all of the attackers with a thought, literally. However, just a controllable threat was good grounds to try out the new recruits. One was a hot headed young man who already wore the insignia of the Rebels, a horned skull imprinted on his red, sleeveless shirt. Normally, this was earned after the initiation, but the kid had taken it off of a corpse that he made. With him was a lumbering oaf who barely fit behind the car, idle for years, that they used as cover from the bullets. His garment was actually a stitched together set of green sheets since no regular clothing would fit over his abnormally large muscles. The two had somehow met when wandering in the Wastelands and befriended. Since Despair found them and ordered against their kill, it was his job to initiate them. They did not need to be tested, and he knew this, but he wanted to see if they took orders.
"Okay, bloke, what did you say your name was again?" Tightening the bandana around his head, the slimmer of the pair only cackled madly in response. "Mad Bomber Jack, right," he recalled, largely from the travelling rumors of the last few months. "Okay, Bomber, there's about five advancing on us with the cover they're getting. Think you can drop them?"
"How many are there in all, would ya say?" Jack did not bother to look at who he spoke to as he chortled his question.
"Thirty, forty, maybe, but most are too far down to do anything about right now. They'll run once they see it's hopeless. But, can you-"
"Then why waste my time with five? Let's hit 'em hard." Apathetic to Despair's orders, the Bomber kicked a sewer lid and vanished beneath the street. "Superb," his voice echoed through the opening, "car." With a mighty roar, the giant rose to his tiny legs, his body exposed to the gunshots. Bullets impaled his rigid flesh, barely trickling out any blood. Gripping the vehicle in his massive hands, which, together, could cover one whole side, the titan hurled the rusted piece of junk at the enemy, smashing them before they had the chance to scatter.
"I'll admit, that's impressive," noted Despair, trying to take back control of the situation, "but-" Loud noises cut off his words. Looking back down the street, the wrecked car, now a dented up box, continued rolling down the street, crushing more people with as much momentum as it started with. "-that was more impressive," he hated to confess.
"I would suggest covering your ears," the slow, rumbling voice of Superb advised. "He's on four." Despair tried to question him further, but the brute already had a massive finger blocking each ear and was stooped down for cover. Faintly, very faintly, the general could hear the voice of Jack through a sewer grating.
"Three... Two... One... Zero-" Down the street, where the dispersed and battered remnants of the raiding party were stationed, the pavement they stood upon erupted in a violent blast. Bodies were flung far into the air, scraped along the sides of buildings, studded with debris, or merely blown to bits. From out the smoldering crater left in the aftermath of the explosion leaped a single figure without a scratch on him, Mad Bomber Jack. Despair had seen amazing abilities before. In fact, he possessed them himself. In an instant, he could rob the two of their sanity and eliminate any threat they might pose to him or the Rebels then and there, but he felt like keeping them around. He had a plan for them.
"Congratulations, you two," he shouted a bit too loud, disoriented from the ringing in his ears. "I think the Rebels could use fellows like yourselves." Sticking out his arm when Jack rejoined them, it was grabbed greedily and pulled close. Bomber's clenched teeth stared the general down.
"Stick with me, kid," the lunatic hissed, "and ya might get somewhere in this crazy world." An equally sinister grin grew on Despair's face.
"Why, that is exactly what I had in mind." Realizing they both carried the same, sick thoughts, they filled the air with their infernal laughter.
