Sand and Blood, Part 1
The breeze that blew through the dusty town was like a breath of fresh air to arid lungs. It had been years since the sky had even hinted to a storm, and even longer still since it had yielded anything but searing sunbeams.
The only way the town even remained inhabitable was through the Atmospheric Condensation Collection Spires, or Atcon Spires. Some blamed them for the lack of rainwater and life-giving storms, claiming that by not allowing the clouds time to reform and gain enough condensation to rain, they were "kicking them while they were down".
But this town was no better than the rest of them across the prairies. After the fall of the governments, the people were sent into disarray. All of them scattered into small, sparse settlements, forsaking the ravaged cities and relying heavily on the land which they had so abused. But even when the desperate people feared that society itself would dissipate, an even worse threat dawned on the horizon.
All throughout the wars, there was a scrabble for technology, for anything that could be used on the enemy before the enemy could retaliate. The search turned from conventional warfare to cyber warfare and soon after to biological warfare. Even through it all, though, a future could be seen in the distance...but then along came a virus called "Demagogue". Demagogue was an infectious material used specifically to irradiate crop supplies and groundwater, an attempt to bring about an indirectly peaceful solution to the conflict. This proved as successful as expected, although the side-effects were hugely undesired.
Demagogue, which was supposed to be harmless to everything but plants, proved to be the downfall of almost three-quarters of the surviving population. It created monsters...
Demagogue did infect plants and groundwater, but did so without attracting any attention...it worked better than either side had hoped! None knew of its presence in supplies, so it was eaten and drank like any other food. Most it just outright killed, but some it let live...some it let live...
Those who could survive it were altered horribly, becoming twisted and mutated. They were beyond insanity and beyond all recognition. Carnivorous, violent, and animalistic, they began roaming the country in packs, burning all they found and all they could reach. The outposts surviving were forced to raise huge barriers to keep out the infected, forced to protect themselves and forced to live in fear.
And some, of course, turned to gangs. Those who could not protect themselves paid the gangs to keep them safe from the other gangs and the ravenous beasts that prowled the land. So began a new era of mafia and crimelords, all of them fighting for control over the Badlands and what limited resources there were.
A vicious cycle began, as where there is lawlessness, there are criminals. Where there are criminals, there are other criminals hunting them and every hunter is another creature's prey...
Survival of the fittest proved to be the only code of the Badlands and the only word by which all were bound. This came along with the phrase "Kill like a Hawk, or Die like a Worm."
"So, this is the world," he thought to himself as the wind licked his dry scales, trying to pull his hat from his head and ruffling the lone black feather lodged in the brim. Through the sands he sped, riding a large, sand-colored machine that hovered about a foot and a half above the ground. It was shaped almost like a torpedo with handlebars and a long seat. It was sleek, fast, left no tracks to follow, and could hold a rather impressive amount of supplies for its relative size!
He wore a black duster, with both sleeves torn off to reveal black scales and holding the handlebars were two blue-gloved paws. His coat had a high-brim collar, useful for protecting the back of his neck from the scorching rays of the sun, especially now that there was no ozone layer to block them! On his legs he wore a pair of loose nylon pants, full of tiny holes to allow the air through and minimize heat. On his face, he wore a pair of darkly-tinted goggles and a respirator to keep the sand from blinding or choking him.
Lying on his back, there slept a creature wearing a grey duster, like his but lighter-colored. She wore a hat too, but this one had a floppier brim and was all black. It covered her face in shadows to protect her delicate skin from the blaring heat of the sun. He could hear her soft breaths coming through her sandmask and smiled.
"Sleep well baby, you earned it," he chuckled, remembering their escapades the day before. They were bounty hunters, the both of them, working for all sides. They would take contracts from anyone who could to two things: 1. find them and 2. Pay them.
His locator blipped. He was nearing his destination: a town near a large water source called Glass Lake. It was the most heavily fortified and richest civilian outpost in 3,000 miles of anything, obviously due to its large amount of export in water and related goods. Particularly ice, which was largely considered a relic in other parts! A laughable little joke the very old told one another to remind them of better times.
A large, glistening tower rose up over the hill in the distance, the harsh sunlight glinting off of its metal frame. As the duo rose over the hill, a long, gray wall also began to loom just under the long spire. The dusty machine sped up with a grinding roar and zoomed up to a square section of the wall that was separated by a small outline from the rest of the wall.
When the speeding machine reached the broad wall, the driver pulled it into a slide and stuck one clawed foot into the hot sand as it reached a rapid stop. He looked up.
"Open up!" he called. Almost immediately, a metallic clanking sound was heard and the squared-off portion of the wall drifted backwards slowly. It reached a point where it couldn't drift any further and finally swung to the side. Eve smiled under the sandmask and twisted the accelerator with one of his blue gloves.
The machine revved to life again and sped through the now-open doorway. He sped through a sparsely populated street, zooming past townspeople buying the week's food in advance, preparing for whatever hardship may come their way.
As he zipped across turns and roads, the pilot of the sand-colored machine felt a rustling at his back. He looked over his shoulder for a second to see a pair of ruby-red eyes staring back at him from within the shadows cast by the floppy hat.
"Good morning sunshine!" he said happily over his shoulder. "How ya feeling?"
"Better," the soft female voice responded. "Nice to wake up to a pretty face."
"Don't flatter me darlin'," he chuckled. "I might start to believe you!"
The female giggled and settled back down against his sun-heated back, reaching around his waist and hugging him tightly for a second before releasing him and sighing. Then she smiled and nuzzled him again.
"Here we are," he said as the machine came to a complete stop next to a brown, ruddy, sand-stricken and wind-beaten building. The sign above it said, "Bureau of Justice".
The tall male stepped off of the sleek machine and held a hand out to his partner who wobbled as she stood up.
"Whew...legs must have fallen asleep," she muttered.
"They sure keep me awake," the male remarked suggestively, running his eyes down her shapely legs. The female made an unamused scoff and slapped his bare shoulder. The male chuckled and then turned around and began walking into the building. His companion wasn't far behind. When they entered, they removed their hats and hung them on hooks nearby. After they shook the sand out of their hair and the female let it out of the tight bun she had kept it in and let it flow to its full length, they took off the respirators and the male slid his goggles to the top of his head.
The male was primarily dragon, although he retained some prominent canine qualities. His horns protruded gracefully from the back of his head, coming to an estimated foot in length, and near the tip of the left horn, there dangled a small gold pendant. It was in the shape of a fox, a fox with ruby red eyes that glinted in even the smallest sunbeams.
The female was a fox, light gray with small white undertones scattered evenly across her form. Her duster was only slighter darker then her fur, which made her seem all the more angelic. Under the coat, her chest was bound in a white, gauze-like covering that left her midriff exposed, and on her legs she wore the same pair of pants that her partner wore. Her ears pricked up when a small breeze blew through the dusty old building, making the two black piercings in her left ear flash brilliantly in the bright sun.
The male stepped up to the counter, behind which stood a small human man with a round bowler hat and a bushy moustache. He smiled when the male tipped his hat.
"Welcome back Mr. Eveser! You've been rather scarce lately," the man had an English accent, royal almost. It was official, like he assumed he was better than everyone else. "It's been far too long since we've all heard the roar of that familiar Sandskimmer coming over the hills, or the sing-song voice of your beautiful angel!"
He smiled politely at the female, who scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"We've been busy," Eveser said gruffly and then reached into a pocket and drew out a small bag.
"Ahhh I see you are not a man who disappoints Mr. Eveser! The town has been striving for a bit of revenge against that savage! I do say, you've made the townspeople twice as safe!" the man rambled as he pulled a severed finger out of the bag. Eve had little time for it.
"Wonderful. My pay?" he held out his hand expectantly. The man looked pleased.
"Always business with you Mr. Eveser!" the man straightened his jacket and then reached behind the register and brought out a bag of silver ball-bearings. After monetary systems fell along with the governments and the banks, people in major towns took the initiative to melt all of their silver and gold jewelry and items to make small balls. They are judged by their hollowness, they come in units of 5's, 10's, 15's, 20's, 30's, 35's, 50's, 65's, 100's, and all the way up to 10,000's. The less they have inside, the less worth they have. Obviously the size would change as well the thicker they get.
These were silver pieces, around 4,000 dollars in total. Eve was unimpressed.
"Val?" he motioned to his lady. She walked over suspiciously.
"What's up?" she asked.
"Maybe I'm just losing my mind, or maybe my math skill is just fading, but does THAT look like 10K to you?" Eve asked, pointing towards the bag.
"10K? That looks little more then 3," she looked disgusted. Eve nodded.
In less than a blink, Eve had drawn a flashing handgun from within his duster aimed directly at the man behind the counter! Val did the same, hopping a gigantic cannon of a gun from a holster around her waist.
"The agreement was for 10 grand, you pay it or we make one more deposit," Eve cocked the large weapon, a shiny long-barreled revolver with the word "Devolve" carved into the shiny tube. The man behind the counter began to sweat profusely and looked particularly nervous...
"N-now folks, let's not...jump...to...conclusions," the man stuttered as the long gun slid through the bars separating both groups and pressed directly against his sweaty forehead. The looks that the two gunslingers gave the man were cold, unforgiving, the looks of two hardened killers.
For a second or two, they just stared at eachother...unblinking...one of them was going to crack and the advantage was on the side of the bounty hunters. Eventually, the little man cracked.
"Alright!" his accent shattered as the man slammed his hands down on the counter top. "He came by last night and ran off with the rest of the money, a man in a black suit, shiny metal mask. He had an order from Sandstorm saying he was entitled to his 'cut'."
Eve looked shocked for a second. His eyes were wide for a second and he looked like he was about to have a heart attack! Then his shock turned to rage, and his rage turned to fury, and his fury turned to fists. He rammed his clenched claw into the counter and left a huge splintering dent in the wood. Sandstorm was one of the biggest mafia organizations in the Badlands, a hugely wealthy and equally deadly gang that was centered mainly in the large city of Andromeda. They were well-adept in the drug-running rings and certainly the weapon and contracting business as well. There were even rumors that they ran with slavers and underground fighting rings.
"Dammit! GOD DAMMIT!" Eve cursed. The man behind the counter looked both stunned and terrified. Eve turned back to him. "Gimme the money."
The bag slid underneath the bars, and was rapidly snatched up by the now unfurled white-speckled claw. Eve spun around, flaring his nostrils and flinging his duster out behind him as he stormed out of the building angrily. Val holstered her weapon and scurried after him quickly.
"What do we do now?" she asked excitedly. "Gonna go crack some skulls?"
"Not yet, for now we're gonna go have a little chat with Danigo, see why he sent his damn puppet after my money," Eveser growled as he revved up the engine to the Sandskimmer, sliding on the goggles and the sandmask as Val did the same. As they zoomed towards the exit, she leaned over his shoulder.
"Why do ya think he sent Thannix to pick up such a tiny thing?"She asked. "Couldn't he have sent a few muscles instead? I mean, why the big league players for such a small job?"
"I don't think Danigo sent him at all!" Eve responded over the high winds, then turned back to face the rising dunes, his voice growing harsher and more of a gruff whisper. "He borrowed the job from the people Danigo DID send..."