The Stories of Cantoon - End Game

By M R Green

The Planet of Cantoon was changed by decades of war, but years after the wars, the world still spins on. Vandeaga and his group stand strong against vicious bandits and twisted beasts. A new evil like they had never seen before emerged from the west. In its wake, these creatures leave nothing but carnage. Will our trio overcome this countless menace or will it consume them too?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: May 31, 2019
• ISBN: 9781528956307

M R Green

M R Green was born in Berkshire. He loved to read as a child and always wanted to write but never did. As a boy, he loved to play video games and watch Sci-fi films. After his GCSEs, he got a job in a retail store, and of course this was just a stop gap until he found something better. That urge to write a book never left him and he thought about it more as he got older. In his mid-twenties he decided he was going to give it his best shot, while still working at the same retail store he started to write. He did most of his writing and idea forming before his shifts and on his lunch breaks.

Book preview

Epilogue

About the Author

M R Green was born in Berkshire. He loved to read as a child and always wanted to write but never did. At a young age, he loved to play video games and watch sci-fi films. After his GCSEs, he got a job in a retail store and of course this was just a stopgap until he found something better. That urge to write a book never left him and he thought about it more as he got older. In his mid-twenties, he decided he was going to give it his best shot, so while still working at the same retail store, he started to write. He did most of his writing and idea-forming before his shifts and even during his lunch breaks. All those years of hard work have now come together to form his debut book.

About the Book

The Planet of Cantoon was changed by decades of war, but years after the wars, the world still spins on. Vandeaga and his group stand strong against vicious bandits and twisted beasts. A new evil like they had never seen before emerged from the west. In its wake, these creatures leave nothing but carnage. Will our trio overcome this countless menace or will it consume themtoo?

Dedication

I would like to thank Micheal Miles, Jim James Grant, my girlfriend Gem and of course my mum and dad for all their support with my work and for getting me here.

Copyright information

Copyright © M R Green (2019)

The right of M R Green to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781788788809 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528956307 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2019)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Prologue

The planet of Cantoon sits as it always has, near the edge of an unknown galaxy.

Forgotten by the Red Empire over a thousand years ago, this world was left with no clear leadership or control.

Without any guidance or formal law, several factions, through a difference of ideals and beliefs, began to clash. This started the first major arms race and after many minor conflicts, this soon escalated to war.

Each conflict drew in more factions, and with this, forged alliances and adversaries.

After centuries of bloodshed and failed peace treaties, the fifth and last global war began.

In a singular flash point, the Bellatorum—the aggressor, the hated—was almost removed from history.

On this day, this Cataclysm, this mass exchange of death, changed an already damaged world into a wasteland of mutation and disease. This war in its final moments reduced the planets total population by two thirds.

Cantoon, as it was known, no longer existed. A new way of life was forced upon those that remained.

Our story starts where so many journeys have already ended. Vandeaga, Taradin and Priest simply wish to survive to the end of each day.

They have lived, loved and lost all they had to this world, yet they continue to move forward.

Their will is too strong to let them do otherwise.

Chapter 1

The shanty town of Nova was a good distance from any other settlement. It sat almost on the edge of the barrens, a country of dust and ruin. The town wasn’t much but it was still home to some. The town consisted of a dozen battered houses, a couple empty shops and most importantly, a tavern. This day was the same as any other, the town was empty but the tavern was full. Two elderly men sat at an old wooden table, they drank and spoke of good times gone by. Their favourite topic was how the world had changed. It had changed a lot since they were young.

Do you remember the traders that used to come through here once a month, the things they used to sell? said one as he stroked his beard and sat back in his chair.

I remember most of the stuff was junk but now and again, they had some truly fascinating things. The other man paused for a moment and smiled. He glanced towards the double swing doors. He longed to be out there again, a Lead Slinger in his hand once more. We have travelled a long way and seen great things through our lives, but I wish we had kept going. I feel like we have missed so much of this world. There is so much more to be seen. He turned back to his aged friend with his grey hair and faded eyes.

But we are both too old for that now. Mark, this will be our final resting place. The tavern was busy as normal, some residents of the small town in the middle of dust. Most of them just wanderer’s from beyond the plains.

As there weren’t any towns nearby, any travellers usually made straight for the tavern. A drink and a fresh meal was always welcome after a hard trip. This had always been a troubled place to live, mostly because of the solitude. There’s no law, so things can and do get out of hand quickly. Most people have homemade weapons as the old tech was now mostly gone or people didn’t have the knowledge to use it.

Mark looked round the tables and chairs, he recognised a handful of good people from the town but most were thugs. The final global war ended over a century ago but the damage to the landscape was vast. This part of their world was particularly stained by it. Mark made sure that he didn’t make eye contact with any one he didn’t directly know. For this was a sure-fire way to get yourself shot. He saw a few youngsters arguing with each other across the room. It was unclear who had the best cards in a game that no one really remembered the rules to.

However, on saying that, I do feel as if we laid down our tools a little too early, the other man spoke up and snatched Marks attention. But it is far too dangerous for the likes of us out there, he looked down to his wrinkled hands. We are just not that quick on the trigger anymore.

The room became quiet as a large vehicle could be heard nearby. Its engine gargled as it came to a halt. The sound of two metal doors being opened then slammed shut travelled far. The double doors of the tavern swung open. A fresh wave of blistering hot air rushed into the large room. Three men entered the bar. The silence was instantaneous as everyone turned to get a glance of the new visitors. Two of them wore ankle-length leather coats. They looked evenly worn, and both had patches of what looked like old blood stains. They were of equal height but the man on the far left held a constant smile. A large scar ran from his cheekbone to his left ear. His hair cut short, its shade almost orange in colour. The unblinking lizard wrapped round his shoulders looked comfortable, but a little out of place. The lizard’s sharp claws dug into his jacket, but when it found a position it liked, it nuzzled his ear. The other man was there through routine, it seemed he had done this all before.

To the casual on looker, he took no interest in his surroundings. Yet before the wooden doors had swung shut behind him, the room was his. He saw every exit, counted every person and picked out every threat. He smiled to himself because he knew he was better than good. In his opinion, he was the greatest he ever knew. The trio stood still for a moment and soaked in the atmosphere. Mark pondered their bulkiness, they either wore heavy-body armour under their jackets or worked out a hell of a lot. To him, their figures seemed unnatural, what else did they have hidden from view.

Why, in this heat, would you walk around in leather and heavy armour? thought Mark.

Neither of them showed signs of giving two damns about the heat. The third man was slightly shorter than the other two. His silver hair shined with the light from the doorway. He wore a simple robe. This was tied around his waist with a leather cord. Mark did not observe any weapons and to him, he looked quite harmless. The man had turned to look behind him but the lizard caught his eye and hissed in his direction.

They looked weather worn and tired, but they confidently strolled over to the bar. The stern-faced man that had taken the lead caught Marks eye, and gave a single nod. Mark nodded back out of politeness, which was rare to see in these times. As Mark turned back towards his table, the man’s jacket blew outwards and Mark got a glimpse of the gun strapped to his thigh. A memory flashed before his eyes and he once more witnessed their furious power, as if he was seventeen again. The man only wore one but he knew regardless. Mark leaned forward and grasped his friend’s hand. His voice low, barely above a whisper, he spoke directly towards the table. Mark almost lost control to his excitement.

Jazz, I know that man and so do you. We were just past our younger years when we saw him last. He was the reason we wanted to see the world, but we lost track of them after the collapse. Jazz glanced round as the three men got level with their table. He quickly looked back at the stained tabletop.

I think you’re right, his group saved our village from the festers, but that was over fifty years ago. I do remember the taller two as their eyes have the same glow, but where are the rest of them? Jazz carefully glanced over his shoulder again. He quickly examined the equipment that he could see. The lizard clicked its tongue at something. The man turned to look back towards the doors, and the three-barrelled gun holstered on his chest could easily be seen. Yes, it is them, I’m happy I lived to see this day. Jazz couldn’t help but smile.

Most of the other patrons of the establishment weren’t too happy to see these three men walk in. It may have been their posture or their visible armaments but everyone was on edge. They closely resembled Creeze bounty hunters and many people in this particular bar didn’t fancy being taken back alive.

They lined up at the bar as some people had started to talk again, but one large group just stared, and waited to see if they would produce hunting letters to the barman. A young patron at the bar slowly moved away. He knew the look of the dangerous ones and didn’t want any trouble this day. The noise level had increased as though someone had hit the unmute button on a remote control. The table of youngsters began to argue again. One threw his cards at the other, followed by his drink thus spiralled into a small fistfight. All three men placed their hands on the counter. The barman walked over as he wiped his hands on a dirty rag. He stuck the toothpick behind his ear and made a mental note not to make any smart-arse remarks.

Evening gents, what can I get you? said the barman, he skilfully looked over their weapons. This was a good idea before you tried to rip someone off. He smiled at the one in the dressing gown, bit weird, he thought to himself.

Good evening, the centre man’s voice gave the impression of power, but oozed a lethal undertone which almost replaced the politeness. May we have two glasses of beer and one glass of water, he gestured to his left, the waters for him. The barman gave the man a puzzled look.

I got the water, the word ‘pussy’ was muttered from the far corner. Unsurprisingly, it came from where a heavily armed group of people were sat. This was the same group that had waited for the hunter letters that never appeared.

I’m sorry but I’ve not heard of beer. My friend, you must have travelled far. He waited for a response and looked down at the man’s scarred hands and wrists. He noticed that his thumb and the two closest fingers on his left hand looked odd. His digits were metallic, with slits and groves where they would bend. The greyish half of his hand joined seamlessly with the flesh, like the metal became organic. The scarred man looked to the ceiling as if he studied the wood panelling for inspiration. He then glanced back at the barman after a moment’s thought.

Sorry, we have travelled far and I forget which part of the world we are in, beer it’s the same as grog, neela or dish… the barman’s eyes lit up with understanding.

Yes, we make dish, it’s brewed from plants. It’s quite common in this region and it can make you very happy. The man gave a nod. OK, two dish and… he glanced at the dressing gown, one water.

‘Pussy’ is muttered once more from the corner. The man to his right turned his head in their direction. His amber eyes seemed to burn, the colour matched his hair.

Leave it, Tar, the man with the scars kept his voice low. We are not here for a fight. We are just passing through and we need to rest. Besides, I would like to go for more than a couple days without killing someone. Tar smiled and continued to stare for a moment, just to make sure he made eye contact with at least one of their group.

Not for me, scum don’t deserve to breathe. He looked back at the counter as his eyes twitched. The barman came back with the order and Tar dropped some coins onto the metal tray. The barman looked disappointed, in fact, he looked cheated.

I can’t accept that, my friend. That’s not a form of currency I can take. He picked up one of the greenish coins, I’ve never seen one of these before.

The barman couldn’t help but look at the deep scar on Tar’s face. Tar half smiled visibly irritated and placed both his hands on the work surface. Tar had a round scar on the back of each hand, both just bigger than his thumbnail. The scarred flesh was sunken and grey.

What do you accept? Tar leaned in closer. Or would some cartridges do? The barman also leaned forward but froze as the lizard followed suit. He thought it might want to kiss him.

Is that thing OK? he gestured to the lizard as it stretched even further to touch him.

Yeah, he’s fine, he probably likes you. The lizard’s unblinking eyes bored into his, and it really didn’t like him.

Why are humans so ugly? it thought to itself as it stuck its tongue straight out, and you taste funny too.

The barman tried to ignore the lizard but it just would not stop with its dead stare.

The right ammunition will do fine, just don’t say it too loud. Tar reached into his jacket and dropped twenty 9mms into his grubby hands. The barman nodded and walked away. He got what he wanted and hadn’t got himself shot in the process. It was going to be a good day. They picked up their drinks and walked over to a cluster of tables. It was quite busy but people moved out of their way so they could sit down. Their table just happened to be not too far from the two elderly gentlemen. As they had walked, the lizard looked round the entire room as it counted people and exits. The lizard had the same habits as the scarred man, but if the stuff hit the fan, it knew it was going to get feed. People were always easier to eat when they weren’t breathing.

After a lengthy conversation and a few drinks for courage, Mark and Jazz decided to approach the three men at their table. As they walked over, the scarred man looked up and smiled.

Sorry to disturb you all. He was so nervous, Mark almost forgot to finish. But can we sit down and talk to you, please? In his heart, he already knew the answer, because he remembered this man. How could he not, because he hadn’t aged.

Of course, my friends, the scarred man beckoned them to the table. How may we help you on this day? Mark and Jazz both pulled up chairs with a great sense of pride, but at the same time, a strange sensation of being truly safe.

ERM… Jazz began and lowered his voice so just the intended listeners could hear. Erm…well, it’s hard to begin and how… he realised in that unbearable moment that he had forgotten what he was going to say. Even as he took his time to gather his thoughts, the smile never left the scarred man’s face. Mark had waited long enough for his friend to respond so he said his piece.

I never got a chance to say thank you for everything you did for the town of Tornac. The scarred man nodded, and at the same moment, his face went blank.

I’m glad you’re both well. That happened some time ago, he guessed, as he tried to remember more than just a fragment of a picture.

I am so happy I got to say so before I die, it feels as I have done all I need to. Mark looked into the scarred man’s rich blue eyes as they stared back in to his soul. The pause seemed as if it would go on for a lifetime.

Shit when or where did that happen? It only took a second for his mind to find the information he needed. The location, the threat, both their faces and most important to him, the ones who didn’t make it back.

We did what we had to do. We weren’t going to just walk away from a town of good people in trouble. His voice was perfectly clear, every word spoken as if he had said it a thousand times.

Yeah, I remember that one too. They all looked round at Tar. He still had the same smile, but tapped the large scar on his face with his index finger. The lizard rubbed its snout across his cheek so he gave its chin a stroke. Mark tried his best to think of something else to say. Jazz, however, was a bit quicker as his mind had cleared up.

When you and your people left, we tried to follow, we wanted to join you in your journey. The scarred man’s smile faded a little as he remembered the screams of his friends.

It’s a good thing you didn’t because you’re still alive. As you can see, there were more of us back then. Jazz looked down at his metal parts, he remembered these most of all. They looked more worn now. Slight rusting had developed along the joints and knuckles.

I’m having trouble trying to remember and I blame my old age, but what is your name, sir, it’s been a very long time, asked Mark.

Just call me Van, I don’t like to use my full name as people hear stories and its more trouble than it’s worth, and please don’t call me sir, I’m not an officer. Van picked up his drink, his fingers clinked on the glass. We just do what has to be done and help whom we can. I’m just sorry we couldn’t save everybody. Tar was the only one that noticed just how false Vans smile had become. Tar was used to it, the past stayed in the past, Van always said.

Mark thought back to when their group saved his town of Tornac.

But how does doing good… he didn’t get to finish as shouts and hollers echoed from the corner.

That’s bollocks and you know it! That guy does not exist, he is just a legend. It’s all made up by the pathetic populace of shit holes like this. Some of those stories are nearly eighty years old. He’s always described the same way too, one man shouted as he placed his hand on his gun.

I’d kill him just for putting his shit in where it doesn’t belong. I could take him, no one’s quicker than me, they started to shove one another. Drinks spilled to the floor and glasses smashed.

Someone took out the slavers of the east thirty years ago, and that’s a fact. They were there one day then gone the next. It was rumoured that was him too, but that could just be talk from the freed slaves.

Anyone else says Vandeaga exists is gonna get a hole in the face, their leader stood up and looked round the tavern. Any takers? he held up his arms, the silence spread across the room. Van, Tar and the man in the dressing gown didn’t even bother to look round. That’s what I thought, a room full of pussies, he sat back down and after a brief moment, people started to talk again.

I see, said Mark as he looked over to the third man in their group. As it’s more than a little odd, may I ask why you’re unarmed? The man put his hands together, the tips of his index fingers touched his chin.

I am protected by the divine light so I have no need of weaponry. I keep these two company so they do not lose their minds, and so their souls will forever be kept clean of sins, you may call me Priest. Priest smiled to himself and was quite proud of his little speech. He picked up his water and took a sip. He looked down into his glass, the water didn’t taste too fresh and the bits that floated in it didn’t look healthy either. Priest thought he could see a fragment of a fingernail stuck to the bottom. Tar tapped him on the shoulder and shook his head.

I wouldn’t drink that if I were you, unless you want to be emptying your guts down the street. Priest nodded in agreement and placed the glass to one side.

Stupid human, I wouldn’t drink that water, thought the lizard.

They spoke for a while longer. The two old men desperately wanted to know where they went after the group saved their town. Van wasn’t going to give over any details as he didn’t see a reason to speak of it. All memories do is cause pain, that’s why they are the past, and that’s where they should remain. They should be forgotten and left to die.

Well, it’s nice to meet you and thank you again, but can I ask one last thing? said Mark

Of course, Van smiled once more, his jaw had started to hurt.

I can’t think of a way to ask this without being too direct, but why haven’t any of you three aged?

It’s very complicated, they all looked to Priest as he leaned forward on the table. He continued whether they wanted him to or not. We are not like anyone here, in the way our bodies have redirected DNA strands. I won’t say anymore as it’s a secret. Priest tapped his nose and the lizard looked at Van.

What’s on his nose? The lizard looked at Jazz, And when you get up, old man, don’t drop your chair.

"Thank you for your ’time’. We will leave you in peace, have a nice evening." The elderly pair stood up, but Jazz pushed back a little too hard and his chair fell over. He had attempted to grab it on the way down but wasn’t quick enough. He looked up into the face of the gang’s leader. Their leader glared right back at him.

And what the FUCK are you looking at! the guy shouted as he stood up, Jazz raised his hands in protest.

Nothing, I didn’t mean to cause offence, sir. Patrons and pissheads alike quickly moved out the way.

Old roach’s like you should be put out of your misery. Your body would keep a fire burning for a good while. I’ve been looking for a reason to fire off a few rounds. He drew his gun and fired. Jazz had closed his eyes as he thought this was his end, but the bullet ended up in the ceiling.

In the time it took him to draw his revolver, Van had left his chair, moved across the room, and picked up a bottle from a random table. In one swift movement, he deflected the leader’s gun arm towards the ceiling and smashed the bottle violently into his face. The impact dropped him to the floorboards and with fewer teeth than he had before. One of them settled two tables away. The scum with him started to draw weapons as Van dropped the remains of the bottle. He reached into his jacket, grabbed a grenade with one hand and pulled the pin with the other, but kept the release bar held. Everybody in the room froze apart from Tar. He turned round in his seat and walked over to stand next to Van. The lizard hadn’t expected him to move so it almost slipped off his shoulders. As it regained its rightful position, it flicked its long tail and slapped Priest in the face. It turned towards him