batsunsetz!

take a hand, hold it tight, oh what a beautiful ride

Yes, he knew that there were kids way younger than him already having to take care of themselves, and yes, he was grateful that his aunt was still alive and willing to take care of him, and yes, he knew that it was a miracle that he made it through the wars at all. No one ever said these things to him, but he heard the words said between his uncle’s broadcasts, even though he technically wasn’t supposed to be listening in.

He was alone at the station, today, clutching at Pony’s radio and listening to the static play on the empty frequency. His mother’s old gun sat on his lap. Aunt Phoenix said it was only for emergencies, but if he wasn’t supposed to be looking after his little cousin he would be shooting cans outside.

He heard that cousin stirring in their “bed” (it was a few couch cushions put inside a large basket, then placed on a coffee table, a pretty good improvisation of a crib), and he put the gun in his holster. It was bedazzled with blue rhinestones and glow in the dark star stickers, given to him by Pony. It was kind of weird, having such a pretty violent thing.

Jet opened their bedroom door quietly, making sure to step lightly and avoid the toys on the ground. Most of them were handmade; carved by the caretakers of the Witch’s Garden, Aunt Phoenix or Uncle D, but there were also plastic figures collected by Pony and stuffed animals with Cherri’s stitching. He heard the blanket rustle in the “crib” and looked down at the baby, blinking their eyes open slowly. They had light brown skin and short, kinky black hair.

The child made a noise of confusion once their eyes opened fully, and Jet quietly reached a hand into the basket (which they grabbed onto tightly.)

“Do you want to eat?” Jet said lightly. The child made a noise of affirmation, sounding vaguely like a “yes,” if you ignore the fact that the imitation started with a w. Jet picked up the baby and rocked her gently as he took her to the kitchen, placing down the radio on the counter and grabbing a plastic fork and starting to mash some honey into a can of power pup. It was, admittedly, very difficult to think about the horrific environment he grew up in while trying to get a baby to stop pulling on his hair.

new bones and bleeding claws

September 1st, the Now
Fuck, I wish I wasn’t born in the apocalypse.

The power stuttered off. Poison groaned and dug in the cabinet for a candle. He lit it and set it next to the open journal- not too close for it to burn, though. He tried to continue writing, but his pen started to make holes in the paper, so he decided to close the journal.
He took a deep breath. It was still slightly dark outside- he tried to check the time, but the flickering candlelight was pretty much the closest thing to working electricity in the room, so the clock obviously wasn’t working. It sure wasn’t 10AM yet, though, and that was all that mattered.
Report to the Elder at 10AM to get Remade. The words still rattled in his ears, even though they’ve been stewing in his brain since yesterday afternoon. The image of the Elder, with their terrifying gas mask, looking down at him expectantly, stayed insistently in his mind. Poison looked up at the window again- bright, radiation-enhanced light was starting to stream through it.
His siblings would probably be up soon enough, so he got up from his desk and got changed- a  dirty tank-top, a denim jacket with extra pockets, a pair of torn cargo pants and combat boots, all in shades of black. He combed his messy, long, firetruck red hair- and a small chunk of it was torn out by his shaking hands. Before he could put the brush down he heard a knock at the door.
“Breakfast is done!” Raven- the cause of the door knock- said. He opened the door and hurried to the kitchen- then C.A.T pawed at his feet when he stopped at the counter.
“It’s already been fed, don’t give it any of your food!” Cherri yelled across the house, already eating. Poison scooped some of the eggs onto a plate, gently kicked away C.A.T, and went to sit next to Cherri on the couch.
The lights flickered back to life a couple seconds later, and Poison crammed a fork-full of the egg-and-vegetable mix in his mouth. Raven, Girlie and Kobra were sitting at the kitchen table.
“Where’s mom and dad?” Poison asked once he finished chewing the bite.
“Doing stuff with the Elder-“ Kobra said, “I think it has to do with you?”
“Wonderful,” Poison said sarcastically, “what time is it?”
“Eight or so, I think. Pro’bly a little before then.”
Poison shoved the rest of the meal into his mouth as fast as he could. He ran back to his bedroom, shoved as much of his stuff as he could into a yellow backpack and almost got out of the door when-
“Where are you going?” Cherri asked, raising an eyebrow at the running teenager, “You have like, 2 hours.”
“Maybe a kid wants to say goodbye to his boyfriend before he gets sent into the wasteland,” he retorted, and before Cherri could get up, respond, or even fully process what he said, he ran into town.
The houses on the street were small, rickety and shack-like, and the plants outside of them were glowing, bright purple and threatening to explode. Poison narrowly avoided stepping on a set of pulsating eye-like fruits as he ran down the dirt road. After a few minutes he arrived, skidding to a stop just before spotting Ghoul reading underneath the leafless tree in his backyard.
Well, here goes nothing.
Poison pulled his backpack around his shoulders, took a deep breath, and silently walked towards the tree. It was, obviously, a very short walk.
“Uh- bye- hi-“ Poison stammered, “ju- you know what I came here to do,” the redhead sighed, trying to blink stubborn tears from his eyes.
Ghoul looked up, quietly shutting his book.
“Yeah, I know,” he muttered, pulling himself up with the help of a low branch.
“I’m- quite a bit early but. Yeah. Goodbye for like.. a week or so, at least,” Poison said, awkwardly pulling his backpack around his shoulders, “kinda regret volunteering, but, yknow. I can’t change the past.”
“Why’d you do it?” Ghoul asked. The question was said gently, but Poison could see small fires of curiosity in his eyes.
“I saw Kobes start to open his mouth and I panicked. Familial instinct, I guess,” Poison said, a slight laugh creeping in to the edges of his voice, trying to combat the tears still stubbornly stuck to the corners of his eyes.
“When d’you have to leave?”
“Ten. Doubt the Elder’d be mad if I came early, though.”
“Probably shouldn’t keep them waiting, then. See you in a few days,” Ghoul said. He got up on his toes, wrapped his arms around Poison and pressed a kiss to his cheek, whispering a quiet “good luck,” into his face before pulling away.
“See you in a week, then, I guess. If I haven’t mutated into a giant fuckin’ worm or some shit by then,” Poison said, and he planted a quick kiss to Ghoul’s forehead.
“I think I read a book about that once.”
“Ew,” Poison fake-gagged, stifling a laugh.
“Actually, I think it was about like... a beetle or something. Still weird, though.”
“Okay, now i’m leaving just to avoid this conversation.”
“You sure you don’t want a copy for the road?” Ghoul laughed.
“Of course I do,” Poison laughed sarcastically, “See you later, Ghoulie.”
“Goodbye,” Ghoul smiled.
—————
Poison got to town surprisingly fast, especially considering he was making an effort to slow down. Still, despite his protests, 15 minutes after suing goodbye to his boyfriend he was in an area that vaguely looked like an outdoor market. People were already milling around, though it wouldn’t get crowded until around 11. A couple people glanced at him as he walked past (and he saw a few people staring as he stopped to buy a soda), but no one walked up to talk to him.
As Poison walked down the road, a black building with pink vein-like tubes creeped into his vision. He had only been in it a few times, but almost everyone in the town knew that it was the Elder’s office, vibrating with ancient technology.
Once again, in Poison’s opinion at least, it came into focus way too fast. He stared at the door in front of him- which was at least 10 feet across and more than 5 feet taller than him. He took a deep breath and knocked twice. And then, after 30 seconds, the door started to open with a screaming whine.

Getting Remade fucking hurt.

Poison felt his muscles tearing and getting mended over, and over, and over again, he had a headache that felt like his head was about to split apart into two jagged-edged pieces, and there was an ache in his bones that almost knocked him off his already-shaking feet. It couldn’t’ve taken more than five minutes, but it felt like years.
Years do end, though, and soon the pain forcing itself through his body turned into nothing more than an occasional reminder that his muscles were still getting redone, and a small but desperate hunger deep in his bones. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look up- the bright pink energy pulsing around the office brought the ache back into his head, and he nearly fell over, though the remnant pops of pain had already gathered in his back.
This was gonna be a long, long day.
He tried to look up again, seeing the glowing eyes of the Elder’s mask looking down at him. Their body was basically all artificial- metal hands peeked out of their long, dark pink robe, and the small amount of neck that peeked out of the bottom of their mask and the plates on their shoulders was a silvery grey.
“I- I think it’s done,” Poison choked out of his sore throat, and the words came out gritted and barely audible. The Elder nodded as if they understood, though. At least Poison wouldn’t have to say goodbye to his parents with this voice; he’d already done it before the Remaking.
“C- can I go now?” he asked, pulling himself off the wall he was using for support. The hunger in his bones had turned back into aching, and he knew what it wanted: radiation. The sooner he could get out into the Fallow, the better.
“Soon,” the Elder said, and walked away to grab something. Right. The bat. Poison had no clue why the Menders made their super-powerful violence machine in the shape of a baseball bat of all things, but at least it would make it easier to figure out how to use the damn thing.
They returned a few minutes later, and handed Poison the weapon. It was made of grey, metallic plates, and it was cold to the touch. Poison grabbed his bag and pulled it back around his shoulders, stifling a cry as the heavy backpack hit his already-hurting back.
He took a step, and stumbled a little, but after a few more careful movements the worst of the pain ran off, and he slowly made his way to the still-open door. A few people stared at the enby as he walked into the market, and he had to stop and let them because the Elder didn’t know how to walk faster than a 5’4 teenager who just had impromptu magical surgery done on him. Soon he heard their metallic steps behind him, though, and they both continued on. Halfway through the market Poison felt a cold, metallic hand on his arm, and the Elder pulled him to a side street.
The rest of the journey continued in near-silence. It was an hour long walk, all told, and it ended at a small area at the edge of the settlement. There was a two-story wooden, wallless structure, an ai-based ATM, a small shop, and, right in front of him, a 6-foot tall pink and black portal.
“Do you remember what you’re supposed to do?” the Elder asked.
“Uh, s-something along the lines of.. activating face statues, I think?”
The Elder sighed. “There are two machines that look like faces in the area i’m sending you to. It is your responsibility to reactivate them and then follow their beams, which lead to a building that will teleport you back here.”
“2 faces, follow the beams, find the building. Got it.”
“Good luck,” they said simply. The Elder went to the back of the portal and flipped a switch, and it enveloped itself in a shatteringly bright pink glow.
Poison took a deep breath, pulled his bag tighter around his shoulders, and stepped into the light.

Poison opened his eyes. He stumbled backward from the shock of the bright sun, only just managing to avoid stumbling into the cavern behind him. The aching was already fading away, and he could almost tell that the radiation surrounding him was seeping into his pores and making its way to his bones.

Around 15 seconds of blinking later his eyes got used to the light, and he looked around the wasteland. It was covered in rocky dirt, and there were larger versions of the eye-fruits that grew in his neighborhood surrounding him. Some of them turned to look at him, staring into his soul as they pulsed with a weird organic mix of gunpowder and metal, threatening to explode.

And, as Poison glanced down, he saw a mutie disguising itself as a fern-like plant was hiding underneath the ground a few feet in front of him. Poison took several hesitant steps forward. The fern shook. He gripped his bat and took another step. The louse jumped out of the sand, and Poison instinctively leapt back.

The bug started to chase after the teenager, and he kept stepping backwards- trying to avoid the cavern. He attempted a hit and it didn’t do much, but on the second one Poison managed to smash the bug into two pieces, and he felt more radiation flow into his bones as bright-green blood and guts seeped out of the louse’s exoskeleton.

Poison sighed a breath of relief, carefully moving away from the death-pit as he stared at the dead bug. There’d probably be a lot more of those in his future.

He started walking through the wasteland, half-wishing he had some form of transportation other than his feet. He had to smash a few more bugs as he walked, which plastered his bat with insect-insides and sticky pieces of exoskeleton. The muscles in his back had started to tense up as he killed the muties, almost like they were preparing for something.

An hour later, two long, bony wings exploded from his back. Skin started to grow over them, sickly pale and covered in small holes. It hurt, so fucking much, and Poison almost fell, only just managing to get to the ground before the pain forced him down. Rough black feathers sprouted from the holes, catching the blood dripping from the new incisions in his back. He could almost feel it clotting in between the plumage, messily sticking the new additions together using his blood as glue.

He stayed on the rocky ground for almost 30 minutes, feeling the new wings float in the wind and the air flowing through the feathers. His bones started to hunger again, familiar aches flooding through his body to acompany his sore back.

Poison took a deep breath and tried to flap the wings. They obeyed, making a loud sound as they moved through the air. He got the impression that probably he couldn’t fly with them, but he might be able to glide.

Another deep, shaking breath, and he got up. He instinctively shook off the worst of the blood, the liquid seeping through the dirt as it landed on the ground. He had a splitting headache, but he did see something vaguely face-shaped on the horizon. He doubted that he could make it today, but at least he found the damn thing.

He started collecting fallen wood for a fire, and the rest of the evening was spent making camp. He could see a small settlement a few miles away, and he remembered a tv-cult-thing that Cherri mentioned. They were decent enough, outside of the cult thing, his older brother said, and Poison doubted that they didn’t have a mutie problem. He could get something for solving that, maybe. He’d gotten pretty good at killing the things.

He tended to his wounds, hissing in pain when he sterilized the beginning of his wings. They were still sore, but they felt a lot more secure once he wrapped the growth-spot in bandages. Other than that and one bite on his ankle, he only had cuts, bruises, and scrapes.

He missed.. everyone, basically, and he was homesick as all fuck, but he wasn’t dying. And that reassured him as he drifted off to sleep.

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