The Legends of Eden- Chris Tomson

By Matthew Zumbo

With Humanity teetering on the brink of extinction, warlords wage never-ending wars to carve out their own kingdoms amongst the bones of the Old Empire. A mutated virus, created before nuclear flame devastated Eden, rampages what remains of Humanity. Amongst the chaos and never-ending bloodshed, an Order of modern day knights known as The Wardens has dedicated itself to protecting what remains of the human race. Chris Tomson, a genetically enhanced supersoldier of The Wardens Order, is amongst the Order's finest warriors.

Far to the eastern seaboard of the Old Empire, a warlord has carved a bloody path across North America and now sets his Empire's sights on conquering the scattered towns and tribe to the far West. With only two known factions in the wasteland that support freedom for its people, Chris Tomson must unite his Order and the two nations to stand against the coming tide that is The Swordsmen Empire. The origins of this mysterious warlord known as Cabal will leave only more questions to be answered.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Zumbo
• Release date: Aug 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005557027

Matthew Zumbo

Hello friends,My name is Matthew Zumbo and i'm a fresh faced aspiring writer! Ever since i was a wee lad, i imaged myself as a noble warrior fighting against all kinds of injustices and came up with tons of stories as i got older. One day, as I was listening to an audio book on youtube, a massive story concept popped into my head and i instantly began typing the idea out. Over the last four years or so, i continuously hammered away at the concept and revised the story to fit my vision. Being inspired by stories from Lord of the Rings, Star Wars, Warhammer 40K, and countless other sci-fi/horror stories, my vision went from six books to nine planned with many other ideas swirling in the infinity that is my imagination!I hope you will join me on this little quest of mine, i hope my stories bring you great joy and inspiration for your own tales of heroism!

Book preview

Prologue

The Ashes of War burn with stories of a time long past, a time when legends walked amongst Humanity. Legends that gave their lives in the defense of generations born and unborn, for our home, circling an unremarkable sun in the immense depths of space. These legends, these few men and women due to their actions in wars long past, rose to become the new pantheon of Humanity and The Eden Imperium.

Warriors of immeasurable skill, honor and renown, they traversed the stars to ensure our survival against our creators who sought our extermination. Across the cold and horrifying deeps of space, forged by the fires of conflict: this is the story of the first to rise, the God-king of the Patheon. The God of war and Thunder, the one that was spared, the one who survived the end beyond the veil.

The year is 2535, and Eden lies in ruins. Humanity is scattered across the earth, struggling to survive in small towns and villages, avoiding the desolate cities that now house ravenous forms of infected humans. Nearly 300 years ago, the earth’s most powerful nations turned against one another and launched their nuclear payloads after a series of wars and virus bombings that were carried out by a superpower on the continent of Africa. What began as a continental conflict between The United African Republics and the South African Empire had spread all over the world due to the assassination efforts of the South African Empire. The war eventually became locked in a stalemate that spilt the continent in half, with neither side able to claim an advantage over the other.

Desperate to break the stalemate, the Emperor of the SAE commissioned a group of his top scientists to create a retrofitted virus that could fit onto warheads and be launched into the UAR’s territories. The technology to fit viral warheads onto missiles was initially denied to the SAE until they began to conquer their surrounding neighbor countries. Despite initial setbacks, the scientists managed to retrofit a strand of Rabies Lyssavirus with the variola virus and weaponize it. Fearing an epidemic, Emperor Ballentine of The Aurea Imperii, ordered the Imperial Special Forces group known as Task Force V to infiltrate the laboratory that was manufacturing the virus and put it out of commission. Task Force V would have been composed of teams from the Imperial Marines, Delta Force, and Imperial Army Rangers. The Task Force would launch from a hidden base located in Old Nevada. Arising out of the old United States 75 years before the nuclear war, the Aurea Imperium conquered the entire western hemisphere of Eden after the old United States collapsed.

Before Task Force V could mobilize to undertake their mission, Imperial News announced that a nuclear bomb had gone off in the UAR’s capital of Zion in the old city of Alexandria. Following the initial detonation, Imperial News also reported that an unknown virus had been released in several different countries around the world through terrorist attacks. Additional reports of virus bombings occurring across The Aurea Imperium, the retrofitted virus spreading rapidly through bites and bodily fluids. The virus turned the infected humans into raving animals with pustules appearing on their arms and legs that would burst and release the virus onto others through contact scratches. Fearing for their families’ lives after reports came in that a terrorist bomb went off near their Nevada base, the members of Task Force V relocated their families’ to Area 51 and sealed themselves in the base’s bunker facility.

The nukes followed shortly afterwards in 2230. Humanity had caved under its own paranoia. After the nations of Eden launched their nuclear payloads onto themselves, a vast majority of the world’s population was decimated. The SAE developed and weaponized virus has now mutated due to excessive amounts of radiation, turning the already bloodthirsty infected humans into something far more terrifying. Most of the world would remain shrouded in nuclear fallout for the next 120 years.

After those initial 120 years later, ruthless and savage factions of nomadic armies have carved out their small empires in the borders of the once great nations across Eden. These factions fight over what resources remain across the dead planet, including the powerful technology that was created during the old world. They raid old military bases and research firms to rummage through the installation files for any signs of advanced technology, desperate to give themselves an edge of their rivals.

But there is one empire that has risen to dominate nearly all the eastern seaboard of the former Aurea Imperium. Known only as ‘The Swordsmen’, this fanatical order of religious zealots have wiped out entire villages and anyone who refused to join their ranks. Hellbent on cleansing the world of anyone who they deem too impure and infected to be saved, they are determined to reform the world into their own image, a vision that is only known to their highest echelon in the leadership. The Swordsmen armies are led by a man known only as Cabal, a figure that remains in the shadows and has conquered all the factions that tried to stand against him.

Far away on the West Coast, one faction keeps a close watch on what’s unfolding on the Eastern Seaboard. Deep in the underground facility of Area 51 in Nevada, the former members of Task Force V have reformed themselves into a vigilante Order of desert rangers known as the Wardens. During the nuclear Armageddon, the families and the scientists took advantage of technology captured from extraterrestrial space craft, creating weapons and armor to use in the defense of Humanity. Utilizing advanced suits of armor known as Reaper Suits and energy-based weapons, the soldiers of this Order are led by a man named Matheus Benjamin who holds the rank of Lord Warden. This Order of noble warriors have dedicated their lives to protecting the last pockets of human survivors scattered across the wasteland and hope to usher in a new age of order for all.

If there is any hope of stopping the Swordsmen from conquering all North America, enslaving all who resist, that hope falls upon the Wardens. Amongst this Order of legendary warriors, one man has risen to renown above his peers and their allies in the wasteland for his commitment to defending those in need. Chris Tomson, trained as an assassin within a branch of the Wardens known as Templars, will find himself thrusted into the tides of fate as his path takes on a higher purpose.

Chapter 1

The Warden

The desert wind howls with gusts strong enough to knock over a fully-grown man. A small, mutated lizard is out, searching desperately for any signs of food. The lizard perches itself onto a rock and surveys the surrounding area. A large, metallic boot stomps by and scares the lizard away. Standing in jet-black armor, the man gazes over a vast and ominous landscape of sand and buildings reduced to rubble. The only sign of civilization is the ruined city, where the Warden is heading to kill a murderer who managed to elude his town’s police force.

The Warden begins the walk towards the crumbling city. His black cape and hood whips in the air. His face is hidden behind a skull-shaped helmet, with red eye visors and black teeth crafted into the helmet’s armor, and the helmet hidden under a hood. Strapped to his suit’s thigh using powerful magnets is his primary, plasma revolver with cartridges lining his utility belt. His armor is riddled with battle scars and dents from projectile-based weaponry from previous encounters with the gangs scattered across the wasteland. The Warden pauses as he passes a rusting billboard, with some of the former lettering still intact, Vinum Urbe.

He brings up his left arm and opens his data pad to discover that Vinum Urbe was once Temecula back in the 21st century. With tactile hands, he deactivates the display, punches a set of different keys, and brings up the image of a man with a large scar going down his left eye known as The Butcher.

The Butcher had a disgusting tendency to rape women that walked the small town of New Hope at night. Once he was finished, he would brutally kill the women and ripe out parts of their bodies as trophies and feast on the remains later. The body parts would range from the breasts down to the vaginal area to even the intestines on rare occasions. For three years, this man terrorized the small, walled-in town and evaded its local authorities. With all potential leads ending up as dead ends, the local mayor called upon The Wardens to assist the town and pleaded with them to hunt the Butcher down.

The Warden was dispatched to put The Butcher into an early grave as soon as possible. The Warden had tracked the psychopath into an old building in the center of the city, which the Warden assumes to be the old city hall of Temecula. The man sighs through his helmet, feeling somewhat annoyed at the job as this wasn’t his usual assignments. His usual assignments were always focused on killing infected and executing tyrants. Hunting down a common killer was something out of the ordinary for him. The Warden unclips his plasma revolver, loads a fresh cartridge into the cylinder, hearing the gun charge up to full power. As the Warden walks toward the busted doors of Temecula City Hall, his helmet’s audio receptors pick up a faint snarl traveling towards him from a position farther away.

The Warden stops in his tracks, chills crawling up his spine as he cracks open his data pad and looks at the time.

4:45 p.m. Damn it! he says through his helmet’s voice modulator.

He looks at the descending sun, he knows nightfall is coming, and he’s running out of time. He quickly notices a large hole, 40 feet above him based on his visors scans, just to the right of the main entrance doorway on the second floor. Drawing his weapon, he takes one step forward and leaps into the air. He flies through the hole and lands on his feet with ease. He carefully walks around crumbled support beams and destroyed desks. The Warden’s helmet receptors begin to pick up heavy breathing and blood drops. The Warden had shot the criminal in the shoulder during their last fight only twelve hours ago before escaping due to the intervention of infected humans that ambushed The Warden.

The Warden activates the X-ray vision on his suit’s visor. A beam travels across his Heads-Up Display as it peels away the debilitated walls and crumbling pipes, revealing his wounded and corners prey. The Butcher barricaded himself in a room with a large bookcase and ruined filing cabinet against the main entrance. The Butcher himself is huddled in the back of the room, clutching his injured shoulder with his left hand, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. The X-ray vision shuts off, the Warden moves to the wall directly behind the Butcher. Slamming his hand through the ruined drywall, The Warden grabs The Butcher by his jacket and tosses him across the decrepit tile flooring. Jumping to his feet, the Butcher pivots to fire four pistol rounds at the armored knight. The rounds bounce off the Warden’s armor and leave only small scuff marks, revealing the metallic silver underneath the black paint. The Butcher hides to load his last magazine of ammunition in his pistol and throws the empty magazine to the floor. He pulls the slide back and chambers a round. After several heavy breaths, he jumps out of his hiding spot and points his gun. Wide eyed and slack jawed, the black-armored knight is gone. Against his better judgement, the Butcher cautiously walks down the hallway, clenching his bleeding shoulder and clenching his teeth in pain.

He continues his search for The Warden, sweat running down his face and hits the tile floor. His heart is beating at such a lighting pace that he feels like his ribcage will burst open. Breathing heavily from fear and dread, he kicks open door after door. The Butcher was not used to being hunted. His heartbeat now pounding in his ears, the ringing is interrupted as footsteps echo behind him. In a burst of fear, he fires off three out of the nine bullets in his magazine. The bullets strike a weathered portrait and shatter the wooden frame. Realizing that he had been baited, The Butcher clings to the walls to hide. Unable to calm his ever-escalating heartbeat, he peeks around the corner expectantly and sees nothing. Bursting from the wall behind him, startling the soul out of him, The Warden’s armored hand grabs him by the shirt and yanks him through the wall, throwing him across the floor. Blood from his shoulder wound splatters across the ruined tile flooring. He clenches his teeth as the nerves of his shoulder wound fire off.

The Butcher’s gun lands at the Warden’s armored boots, without looking down, the Warden crushes the gun in half under his boot.

Fuck you! screams The Butcher angrily.

Quickly gathering all his strength, The Butcher charges at the Warden, running at full speed towards the armored knight. Rearing his hand, he swings for the Warden’s face plate. Like lighting, The Warden grabs The Butcher’s forearm and snaps it, sending broken bones through the man’s skin.

The Butcher screams in agony as he stares down at his shattered forearm. With one kick, The Warden shatters the man’s right knee to a red paste, bending the man’s leg to an uncomfortable angle.

The Warden watches the coward crawls in agony, blood trailing behind him. The Btucher props himself up against a broken slab of concrete next to a gaping hole in the building’s wall. The Warden slowly walks over and stands in silence, staring at the broken and bloodied man.

Why do you even care? Nobody will thank you; you know that don’t you? You risk your life every day, all for people who are too broken and stupid to care! The Butcher paused to cough, sputtering blood in the process.

The Warden says nothing, for he had nothing to say to this man. He did not care for what he had to say, no interest in humoring The Butcher. A hidden wrist extends from an attachment on The Warden’s right forearm, the intention made clear.

The Butcher laughed, blood dripping his mouth. The Warden could smell his blood, the rotten and diseased blood stinging his enhanced sense of smell.

I guess you made your choice, just know-

A massive stinger crashes through the wall and through The Butchers chest, bits of bone and blood fly as the man’s shattered ribs are forced outward. One of his lungs hands in tatters as The Butcher is yanked out into the street below.

Caught completely by surprise, The Warden rushes over to the edge of the wall. Down below, the infected humans tear into the Butcher of New Hope. The Warden slowly retreats into the shadows as the descending sun gives way to the encroaching darkness of night. Knowing full well the infected will catch his scent if he stays, he makes him invisible.

The Warden opens the data pad on his left arm’s armor plating and pulls up the time. 6:45 p.m.

I missed my window; this just made my job so much harder. I’ll have to find a place to bunker down for the night.

He quietly picks up the Butcher’s broken pistol, as it is the only proof that the murderer has been killed. Following the terms of the contract, the Warden searches for anything unique to the Butcher, and he finds the symbol of a skull and bones etched into the grip. With the broken gun secured to his belt, the Warden walks on and braces for the long night ahead.

Chapter Two

The Long Night

The moon, despite the thickness of the radiation cloud, shines brightly onto the desolate city of Temecula. The vicious snarls of the infected can be heard all over the city as they hunt and scour the city for prey. In this crumbling city, mutated forms of wildlife are caught and killed viciously by the infected. The sounds of flesh tearing, bones snapping and breaking, sends shivers down the Warden’s spine.

The infected run past him, forcing him to retreat further into the alley. He taps a few holographic keys to activate his suit’s stealth system. Tapping the tips of his armored boots on the concrete, the muffled sound of his boots reassures him knowing that his suit’s stealth system is active.

The Warden peeks around the corner of the destroyed ice cream store and activates the zooming function of his helmet’s visor. Scouring the destroyed buildings for any signs of movement and a way out of the city, The Warden wonders for a moment what Vinum Urbe must have looked like over 300 years ago. It was shame that the city was once known for its wineries and movie festivals. As the Warden scans his surroundings carefully, a faint flickering ball of light illuminates a building down the ruined street. Shocked, yet hopeful, The Warden retreats to the safety of the alley:

Could there be someone living here? This place is crawling with infected. The mutated wildlife can barely live here…

The Warden gathers himself, knowing that once he left the alleyway, the infected would pick up his scent within minutes. A part of him begged to stay in the alley, the certainty in knowing that at least the infected didn’t see him. Deep in his gut he knew they would eventually find him, corning him and killing him if he stayed. Gathering his courage after a deep breath, he slowly emerges from the alleyway. He stops dead in his tracks, an immense feelings of dread washing over his being down to his soul. He feels his stomach drop like anvil sinking in the ocean as he feels a pair of eyes burning into his soul from behind him. The Warden grabs his plasma revolver off his right thigh, priming to fire plasma bolts into the darkness of the alleyway. A massive, pus covered arm smacks him, throwing him into several dilapidated cars before he could pull the trigger.

Scrambling to his feet, The Warden sizes up the opponent towering over him at nearly 10 feet tall, covered in massive boils and charred-green skin wrapping over its bones. With blood running down its eyes and mouth, the Reaver pulls massive stingers up from behind him, readying them for battle. Poison drips from the tips of the stingers. The Reaver’s arms are laden with razor-sharp spikes clawing out from its forearms. The Warden’s eyes meet a pair of soulless, black eyes as dark as outer space. The Reaver’s mouth is grotesque and marred, full of broken teeth that’s viciously torn through meat off an untold number of bones. The daunting display of its strength was shown in the Reaver’s massive muscles, from its biceps down to its calves and thighs. The veins and arteries bulged underneath its skin, the bluish tint found in uninfected humans was long gone, replaced by the pitch-black coloration that also saturated its eyes.

The Warden fires three plasma rounds towards the torso, the Reaver dodging them easily. With one strike from the back of its hand, The Warden is sent flying backwards again, crashing into rubble. The gel layer woven into his suit does little to lessen the blow, his ears ring like bells as he pushes himself up from the concrete. A bloodcurdling and bone chilling scream erupts from the Reaver as it charges, its claws outstretched, ready to rend The Warden limb from limb to devour his flesh.

The Warden combat rolls to his left. Reaching for his MAC rifle just inches away from him, The Reaver counters by launching a series of lighting attacks with its stingers, forcing The Warden to pull away from his weapon. Despite his augmentations and enhanced speed, The Warden is only just able to dodge the attacks, as the Reaver is far faster due the mutated virus coursing through its vein. The Reaver follows his stinger-attacks with an uppercut to The Warden, catapulting The Warden into the air. The Warden greets his teeth as the pain from the strike was equivalent to being hit with a freight train car. His helmet’s visor crackles and fritz from the strike. Seeing a chance to make use of the airtime, the Warden front flips on his way down and drop kicks the Reavers’ face, crushing the Reaver’s nose beneath his armored boot. He pushes himself off, landing on one knee. The Reaver clutches it’s face in pain, thrashing around angrily. Quickly grabbing his MAC rifle, he takes aim and holds the trigger down for three seconds as the magnetic coils charge up. The Reaver charges forward, his feet shaking the ground around him. The Warden releases the trigger, the rifle fires a high-powered ballistic round, obliterating the right half of the Reaver’s torso.

Injured and enraged, The Reaver connects its bone-like blade on its left arm in a slash across the Warden’s chest armor. The force sends the Warden onto his back. Fear tearing into his heart, the Warden grabs his chest plate, feeling for any sign of blood or open skin contact, as there is no cure for anyone who contracts the mutated virus. To his delight, the suit’s armor plating took the brunt of the attack, and he sustained no injuries. The Warden jumps to his feet and looks up at the Reaver, his anger boiling his blood. Two blades shot out from hidden attachments on his forearms, in his mind he knew he needed to end this fight, all the commotion had to have drawn the attention of the surrounding infected. Charging at lightning speed, The Warden power slides and cuts the Achilles tendon of The Reaver just above the left ankle. Dropping to a knee from its tendon being cut, the opening allows The Warden to leap onto it’s back, slicing its scorpion stingers off its back.

In one swift motion that’s been practiced over and over, he forcefully jams the wrist blade deep into the Reaver’s skull, feeling the skull give way and punctured the brain. The Reaver falls silent and drops to its knees as the Warden rips his blade out from the skull, bringing bits of brain and skull chunks falling to the ground. He quickly recovers his plasma revolver and MAC rifle, holstering them into their respective places on his suit.

The Warden takes off towards the flickering light, arriving at an old RC shop. The Warden draws his pistol and examines the area in the front of the store. Littered about the store were fortifications that had been smashed in by the infected some time ago, blood trails leading away from the rusted cash registers. Revolver at the ready from the hip, The Warden follows the trails into the open room, and discovers two bloodied corpses lying in the corner. Normally, this wouldn’t be alarming to The Warden, as thousands die throughout the wasteland every day. Shattered and scattered throughout the entrance, The Warden determined that individual skeleton was protecting the other two as the makeshift axe was thrown across the floor. A small skeleton was laid out amongst the floor, its arm and leg bones ripped off, bite marks littering the bloodied bones. The thinner skeleton, which The Warden determined to be the mother based on the size of the bones compared to the larger set near the entrance, which he deduced to be the father.

The Warden sighs, his heart aching with sadness. A family was swarmed, killed and consumed at this old shop. His mind drifted into what they must have felt at the moments of their deaths, what thoughts raged through their minds. His body shuttered at the type of thoughts that flared in his mind. A fire erupted within his soul, his anger bubbling to the surface. A low-pitched beeping goes off, and a small notification appears on his heads-up display inside his helmet: 11:30 p.m.

Drowsiness hits him as he yawns, three months of tracking The Butcher had finally caught up to him. He quickly assembles barricades on the door to the old managers office. The moonlight from outside shines a cool, blue light into the room. He rests the MAC rifle against the wall and places his revolver on a chair next to where he will sleep. Propping himself up against the corner, he rests his head back and ponders the day’s events:

He scoffed in frustration at how he missed his window of escape, knowing full well he was taking a deadly risk staying overnight in a hive city. As a Templar within his Order, his primary specialties were infected extermination and infiltration, but sleeping overnight surrounded by infected at night was something that even other Templar trainers demanded that no Templar should ever do.

His thoughts drift towards home, The Citadel and the home of his Order. He longed to be back with his friends, Liz and Jason. The Warden had known them since boot camp and had served beside them on a multitude of assignments. He considered them his family, his true brother and sister.

His vision blurs, his eyelids twitching as they slowly close on him. Readjusting his position, he rests his head back and closes his eyelids, letting exhaustion carry him into the realm of sleep and dreams.

Chapter 3

Journey to New Hope

The sound of glass breaking beyond the barricaded door, sends jolts of energy throughout the Warden’s body. Jumping to his feet with lightning reflexes, he grabs his plasma revolver and cautiously walks to the door. His enhanced hearing begins to pick up sounds of sniffing and claws scraping the broken tile in the ruined store. The Warden opens the door slowly and quietly as possible, weapon at the ready. Silently, The Warden made his way towards the origin of the noise. Coming to the end of an aisle, he swings around the corner, weapon ready to fire from the hip.

Standing before him on four little legs was a puppy, no more than a few months from his estimation. The pup cowers and whines, tucking its tail and coiling at the sight of him in his armor. He holsters his weapon and removes his helmet. Normally he wouldn’t take such a risk with a wasteland creature but seeing how the pup was more afraid than he ever would be, The Warden was curious to see if he could get the pup to trust him. He breaks off a small piece from one of the meal sticks from his utility belt and holds it out to the little thing.

It’s okay, I mean you no harm. the Warden says happily.

The pup slowly walks over and sniffs the meal stick in his palm. The Warden was careful as to not make any sudden moves or the pup would run off in fear.

The pup snatches the meal stick piece up, chomping down vigorously. Looking at the Warden’s green eyes, the pup lowers it front end, wagging its tail happily. Chuckling, The Warden picks the pup up and pets him before examining him:

You have enlarged fangs, razor sharp too. Legs seem to be more muscular than what the canines of the Old World looked like in the holovideos. Your tail also has barbs or spikes…you are just a mess of things, aren’t you? Your eyes look like a snakes, claws look more pronounced as well, and retractable.

The puppy barks with joy, tongue hanging out and panting with excitement. The Warden places him back on the floor and walks back towards the manager’s office to collect his things and prepare for the journey back to New Hope. The puppy follows closely behind, anxious to follow his new friend to wherever he’s off to. The Warden looks down at his little friend and smiles, the little canine sniffs his armor with an intensifying curiosity. The Warden grabs his Deathmask helmet and puts it on, hearing the vacuum seal hiss like a snake, followed by the locking mechanism seal with a clunk. Frightened by the noises, the pup coils back behind a chair and whimpers.

Hey, it’s okay, I’m still here. The Warden says calmly as he scratches the pup’s ears. Calmed and reassured, the pup comes out from hiding and prances around him.

The Warden slaps his rifle onto his back and with his little friend scampering shortly behind him, they walk out of the store. Stopping just outside the dilapidated shop, the ruin cars and crumbling infrastructure were a debilitating sight to behold.

The Warden’s heart aches with sorrow as he tries to picture what the city must have been like over four centuries ago. Images of people driving down the street, shops bustling with commerce and activity, the sounds of countless conversations traveling through the air fill his imagination. Refocusing his mind, he turns and heads southeast towards the small scrap town of New Hope. The nails of his little companion just behind his legs as he walks are picked up by his helmet’s audio receptors.

I’m going to have to figure out a name for you, aren’t I? How about… Arthur? The Warden asks.

The pup’s smile fades, his ears perk up, tilts his head in what can be easily seen as confusion and stops to stare up at him.

Okay, that name won’t do apparently. How about… Prometheus?

The pup releases a snort of objection and continues to trot onwards.

Alright, this will take some time, thankfully we have a long walk ahead of us.

The pup barks in approval, and the pair continue onwards, with the sun high in the sky and winds gently blowing across the landscape. The Warden continues to release a long list of names to his canine friend, and each new name he comes up with is shot down with a snort from the stubborn pup. Passing car after car, the little pup climbs in and out massive holes in the cars with ease and relative speed, keeping up with his new armored friend.

Half an hour passes, the duo finally reach the city’s limit and continue towards the direction of New Hope. By his calculations, the Warden is certain that he’ll reach New Hope within two days. His main concern now was food and water, as he now had another mouth to feed. He watches as the pup jumps and trots around, inviting the Warden to play with him. The Warden bends down and playfully grabs at him, and with shocking reflexes, the pup scampers back and dances around the Warden. Enhanced reflexes were not something uncommon in mutated wildlife, but the speed and agility this little pup just displayed was intriguing for The Warden.

We will have to see what makes you who you are, little one, as this ability is not commonplace for animals of your size.

The sounds of twigs snapping off in the distance assail The Warden’s hearing. He drops to a knee, draws his revolver, and carefully pressed himself against a ruined truck. Stealthily, he makes his way to the edge of the truck. He glances around the corner, and to his surprise, sees a deer blissfully chewing at small patches of grass.. Remembering that he still needs to feed himself and his little companion, the Warden prepares to claim the deer for dinner. The deer’s huge antlers are littered with several smaller antlers branching outward, patches of brown fur giving way to the skin underneath. Several scars could be seen on the main body of the animal, indicating that it had survived an encounter with a predator of some sorts.

Quickly scanning his surroundings, The Warden searches for a good vantage point to move in and take the shot. To his dismay, he realizes that there is no effective position to use, as the destroyed buildings provided no cover to hide his armored form. His little friend lets a low toned whimper, letting him know that he’s hungry. Reaching down and scratching him behind the ears, the Warden sneaks around a few cars to get closer, preparing to launch an attack with his wrist blade. He slowly inches closer, the deer continues to graze on the mutated plant life, unaware of the hunter closing in. The Warden narrows the last few feet, out of the corner of his eye, the pup soars past him, moving so fast that it startled the experienced soldier. The pup runs under a car at lighting speed, and before the deer even notices, the little pup had ripped out its throat with its razor-sharp fangs. Blood flooding out of its torn throat, the animal falls to the ground with a loud thud and bleeds out.

Well, that was easy! exclaimed The Warden. His wrist blade retreats into its compartment as he unclenches his wrist. Dragging the carcass into a small apartment building, he effortlessly chucks the animal onto the counter. Slicing the animal down the middle of its underbelly, he quickly removes the innards and burns them outside in a controlled fire while there is still light in the sky. The sound of his combat knife leaving its hidden scabbard sings through the room as he skins