<div style="text-align: center"><span style="font-size: 26px"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(255, 0, 0)">Caanan</span></span><br/>
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</div></div><br/><div style="text-align: justify">Caanan lie in a haze on his bed. His eyes closed, he was not in the waking world anymore. Or, at the very least, not in the same time period. His dreams were recounting the world shortly after humanity's destruction some 70 years ago. The genius of the species contradicted itself; no matter how enlighted, the savagery in their hearts would always show its face.  With that, he snorted and rolled over. The ramshackle bed creaked and groaned before the slats holding the bed above the floor, gave way. The bed crashed to the floor and took Caanan with it. Caanan's sleeping body 'flopped' but he remained on his side and still asleep.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Of everything he'd seen, everything he'd been through--being morphed into a pale colored monster with superhuman abilities by scientists favoring themselves masters of genetic manipulation--to traversing the wastes endlessly and tirelessly, using his capabilities to eradicate droves of mutated lifeforms. But, no matter where he went or how far, he wasn't ever welcome. He was alone; not a human, not a mutant life form--he was trapped somewhere in between; a pale creature with extraordinary capability. Strangely, it made him the perfect hunter for other aberrations. He could hear them better, see them better, and even think like them. But, it wasn't just his sensory perception that was well developed; it was his physical abilities as well.<br/>
<br/>
At just 15 he could carry over 300lbs including what he wore to protect himself and his inventory. Now, he could carry over 800lbs and can crush a human head like a mallet to a melon. His dexterity and agility were beyond Olympic athlete level when not encumbered. He could easily run 100-meters in six seconds flat, scale walls to get to a second or third story window with that same momentum, and he even had the reflexes to disarm someone before they could even get a shot off at him if the situation allowed for it.  It was a sort of, emanating a sense of danger that triggered this animal instinct that allowed him to react faster than a human being. A sixth sense if you will. It would even wake him from a dead sleep.<br/>
<br/>
His body was very perceptive of minute changes in the air; the direction of the wind, how heavy or light the air currents were flowing, how warm or cold the environment was, even subtle vibrations humans didn't readily perceive--not without a high degree of training at least. Yet, it came all too easily to Caanan. His sense of smell too kept him in the know. Some scents got stronger while others faded. This and his acute sense of hearing allowed him to triangulate and have a great deal of spatial awareness even when asleep as he was now.<br/>
<br/>
The morning came all too soon for the half-breed, as soon as he felt the sun glimpse him through the window, warming his pale skin causing it to burn nearly right away. It was one of his flaws, a glaring problem, and part of the reason he wore layers even in nearly 100-degree weather. Though the body armor did protect him from gunfire and made him look even more menacing, it also shielded him from the light of day. The sun's ultraviolet rays were less than kind to his complexion. In extreme cases, he could get third-degree burns. His cellular regeneration would heal it, of course, but it still hurt like hell.<br/>
<br/>
The burning sensation was, at first, just a mild irritation, a warm, itchy feeling that permeated his skin. Nonetheless, if it persisted it became much worse over time. That warm itchy feeling would turn into a pustule, a blister. The membrane that was his skin would trap the heat causing it to cook the water that was in his body as though the sun were peering through a magnifying glass. It was similar to boiling water. The longer this went on the more 'scalded' he became, the flesh eventually blackening signifying dead and destroyed tissue. Sunlight was the one thing his body couldn't steadily heal the damage from, at a fast pace. He had a higher regeneration rate than humans, true, but the damage from the sunlight light was accumulative; it negated his healing factor by causing a near-constant rate of damage not giving it a chance to heal.<br/>
<br/>
He shifted in his bed knowing full well he couldn't escape the beams of light poking through the window panes, but it never hurt to try. Well, almost never. There were times when he'd become bullheaded and didn't want to get up which made him burn a lot more. Shifting to fold his legs over the outside of the bed as he sat up, his red eyes peered out the window. It was morning, and he could hear the noisy bustle of people rearing to go about their daily routines. He even heard the woman he’d met last night, the one further down the hall, leaving. She was in a hurry to get out of the building. His eyes looked towards the small gap between the bottom of his door, and the floorboards, watching as her shadow moved across it in a hasty manner before disappearing altogether.<br/>
<br/>
She was, peculiar. Caanan remembered the sensation that he hadn’t wanted to take his eyes off her, but not for danger's sake. No, she wasn’t dangerous to him; he hadn’t felt that way at all. It was like she had entranced him somehow. Her scent, he remembered a cadre of aromas, was floral with notes of sage and undertones of wood. Her natural musk was intoxicating to him. She was a vagabond, a wandering soul just as he was. She had traveled to many places; he could smell them on her as well as the saltine sweat that precipitated from just above her brow.<br/>
<br/>
Caanan rose from the bed, his legs flexing and exposing the unyielding muscle that lay just under the tide of flesh and epidermis. His upper body too swelled as he hunched and rotated his shoulders producing several loud pops as the bones were extended briefly before resettling themselves. He grabbed the nearly black garb that had a sort of camouflage on it and pulled it over the all-black undershirt which molded to his body perfectly, and slid on his boots one at a time tying them thereafter. He then zipped up the front of his outer shirt, hiding the zipper under the placket he then grabbed the first Kevlar vest slipping it over his shoulders.<br/>
<br/>
Pulling the vest tight he strapped it down as tight as he could before sliding the next on afterward and doing the same. He made them so tight that they wouldn't budge even a millimeter from the shockwave of a bullet striking them. Finally sliding the third vest over top the other two, it was much heavier than the two before it. The two plates, on his chest and covering his back, were curved 10-inch by 12-inch ballistic plates covered in polyurethane material to prevent spalling otherwise called bullet fragmentation. Each plate was roughly three-quarters of an inch thick and weighed roughly seven and a half pounds on their own. It was constructed with a ceramic strike face and a composite steel backing to prevent penetration.<br/>
<br/>
All in all, the vests did their job to protect him from the dangers of humankind. Bullets, grenades, and the occasional laser were kept mostly at bay. But, there was a deep groove on his chest from some things it couldn't readily defend against aberrations.  Their claws were like obsidian scalpels and hardened diamonds. One had gouged out his internal organs once, spilling them to the ground of the nest he was in. It had ripped completely through the garment he wore at the time with relative ease and then proceeded to rip, tear, and slash his skin and muscle until his intestines were hanging out, dangling like loose wires. After breaking the creature’s neck, he had to act fast and stuff his bowels back into his corporeal body before his wounds regenerated. The attack was brief, the healing process took weeks and on more than one occasion, he nearly bled out.<br/>
<br/>
After putting his balaclava, his helmet, and his mask back on Caanan stepped out of his room with a familiar jingle and his bag in hand. With a few heavy steps, he carried himself down the stairs and out the main door where he was immediately halted. A large congregation had encircled the bodies of the few men he'd dispatched late last night, his hatchet still covered in two of the men's blood. All eyes went from the bodies to him as the deputy stepped forwards from the crowd. The male was older in appearance than Caanan; wrinkled skin like crinkled paper hair gray like storm clouds. The lines telling of a life of hardship, perhaps menial labor before he jumped ship and became the local law enforcement. His hands were calloused, another telltale sign.<br/>
<br/>
"Is that your doin', young man?" The man asked Caanan, his voice raspy. "We can't have folk butchering people in this here town; other places might allow it, but not here."<br/>
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Caanan simply stared long and hard at the officer, before making his way towards the man, getting bigger and bigger as he did. He didn't look as tall far away, but the 5'11 deputy soon found himself staring down a 6'8" behemoth. Unsettled, the officer stepped back a couple more steps.<br/>
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"They attacked me, what was I supposed to do? Let them run?" Caanan asked sarcastically, his voice gruff as he tilted his head.<br/>
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"Yes! You let them run." The deputy responded excitedly.<br/>
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"And let them get more people so there would be more bodies out here? Was I to lie down and let them ransack my room as well? Perhaps they could take the cache I found and brought back--and let loose on the citizens. Great plan." Caanan threatened, murmurs erupting in the crowd.<br/>
<br/>
 Caanan then walked onwards, brushing past the man who took the act as an affront to his dignity. The deputy reached out, grabbing one of Caanan's long arms. Feeling how solidly built it was. The skin was pliant, supple--but the musculature was far denser than ordinary human muscle. It was as if it had been replaced with solid granite.<br/>
<br/>
"Didn't you hear me, goddamnit?!" He yelled, still holding onto Caanan's arm.<br/>
<br/>
"Release my arm, or I will make you release it," Caanan growled, his eyes narrowing in fury. He was not one to be touched so easily.<br/>
<br/>
"Now you listen here, I am the deputy sheriff and I say what goes in this town if I-" He was abruptly cut off by a violent jerking motion just as he was about to go for his gun.<br/>
<br/>
His arm had been pulled out of its socket; Caanan having turned partially towards the sheriff, He'd placed one firm hand on the man's left shoulder as Caanan's left arm lifted and gripped the outstretched limb just below the wrist and pulled quickly, but viciously. As the pain set in, however, Caanan kicked the back of the man's legs slamming him onto his knees—before proceeding to grab the back of the man's hand.<br/>
<br/>
"Know what happen's when someone touches me that I don't like?" Cain asked rhetorically. "The same damn thing that happens to everything else." He then said briskly, bending the man's hand inwards sharply. The bones made a sickening pop as both cartilage and bone ripped through flesh exposing the compound fracture for what it was. The deputy sheriff screamed clutching the bloody stump of bones, sinew, and severed tendon as he hyperventilated.<br/>
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<i>"My hand!"</i> The sheriff reached for the pocket only to be backhanded, busting his mouth open.<br/>
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<i>"It’s better that way," </i>Caanan replied snidely with austere voice, still low and rough. <i>“No more grabbing people—or threatening them.”</i> He commented, eying the man before turning and walk away.<br/>
<br/>
The day went about as well as one could imagine after snapping a man's wrist in broad daylight with a crowd around. People eyed him wearily greeting him with both fear and caution. As he traversed the settlement, he passed many residences which were nothing more than shanties carrying the bag of firearms over one shoulder. No one seemed dumb enough to try and steal it away from him. His size and aptitude for breaking bones very quickly and precisely were great deterrents for the local riff-raff. Apparently, they didn't want anything broken, be beaten, or carved up by the cleaver strapped to his left leg--apparently.<br/>
<br/>
He continued walking, his boots clicking off the cracked blacktop of the road until he heard the vendor he was looking for, yelling. The man was in his early to mid-thirties, had dark curly hair, a black goatee, heavily tanned skin, and brown eyes. He was of average height around 6' and had a lean build. His name was Julián Alejandro and he ran Gun Runners, a weapons shop that outsourced from mercenaries travel to or from Oasis. He was of Latin-American descent and had an accent that revealed as much. He smelled of Cordite and gun oil.<br/>
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<i>"Well as I live and breathe, if it isn't my good friend Cain, you got something good for me today?"</i> Julián inquired point at the bag.<br/>
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<i>"Depends,"</i> Caanan responded,<i> "Do have what I asked for?"</i> Caanan asked.<br/>
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<i>"Ah!"</i> Julián raised a hand and one finger before turning around and grabbing something from under one of the tables.<br/>
<br/>
Julián then turned back around holding the lever-action rifle. It was just a little less than two feet long and weighed several pounds. The barrel, receiver, and undermounted tubular magazine where all coated in a hard chrome finish that was highly corrosive resistant. It held four, hard-hitting 45-70 rounds in the magazine and one in the chamber. While five rounds didn't seem like much, compared to his XM8 and its 750 rounds a minute. But the 45-70 packed a much more potent punch than the 5.56 by 45mm round that the XM8 fired. It was a solid 'slug' that could put down 'heavier' game.<br/>
<br/>
Those weren't the only things that made the rifle durable and dependable; The 'furniture' was stained walnut hardwood with a veneer that was formulated to stand up to wear, tear, scratches, moisture, temperature variations, and the apprehension  of the various ‘character marks’ an everyday outdoor tool inevitably picks up during its lifetime. It had all came together to make superb modern take on a classic--well, pre Great War modern. There was little that could go could break or go wrong with the weapon; frontiersmen had spent months if not years afield with their rifles with a bare minimum repair kit—if that. Today’s rifles were made with surprising quality, Cain daresay that that were as good as they used to be.<br/>
<br/>
To understand how good the weapon was, was to understand the dynamics; first, lever-action rifles are very dependable and were fairly simple. Meaning, of course, very few things could go wrong. Frontiersmen spend months afield with nothing but Henry's and Winchesters at their disposable and maybe a rudimentary repair kit if that. To find a Henry rifle or a Winchester was a miraculous thing. They were highly sought after despite their exorbitant price. Which was why, instead of buying it outright, Caanan had offered to seek out a cache of weapons. Mostly sub machineguns; Thompsons, MP5's and the like in exchange, Julián wouldn't sell the weapon if he didn't make it back in five days--he did it in two.<br/>
<br/>
Needless to say, there was a horde of monstrosities in his path that he had to both fight through, and covertly maneuver around. As strong and as durable as he was, he'd invaded a hive where dozens if not hundreds of Hydralisk. The chitin of their carapaces was strong, but as a whole, they were relatively frail. While their carapaces evolved for an offensive purpose, they were thin and hollow allowing for expedited maneuverability with a fragile structure that couldn't handle much punishment. All that said, it had the capability of molting an ancillary carapace with redundant plating that would improve its protective capabilities and hindered any exoskeletal rupturing.  The once the caterpillar-like lifeform Hydralisk was covered in thousands of bristles that were coated in a paralytic toxin to on discourage predators, now the seemingly harmless hairs gave way to dozens of armor-piercing, grooved spines that could be fired in volleys of the lethal biological ordinance at enemies approaching from the ground or the air.<br/>
<br/>
With upwards of 4,000 muscles compared to most humanoids 629, the creature's remarkable musculature could shoot the venomous barbed spines at blinding speeds that could easily penetrate two inches of Tungsten-Steel alloy even at maximum range. Under normal circumstances, he'd have gone with a team. But, something told him someone would have made the stupid mistake of waking the hive up--and once one was up, they all were up because they were all connected.<br/>
<br/>
Hydralisk were large creatures. Much larger than a standard human, at 13-feet long and weighing around 860lbs, they did not like to chase down their prey. Instead, what they would do was burrow and erupt from the ground if someone got too damn close. He must have seen it a million times; someone not watching where they were stepping, getting distracted, then out popped a nightmare; mandibles open, arms ending in scythe-like bony protrusions to impale them and draw them down into their lairs. But, Caanan had figured out how to spot the well-hidden burrows that had been cleverly covered up. The dirt was disturbed, it took a keen experienced eye to notice it, but the evidence was there.<br/>
<br/>
Hydralisks had a bite force of over 5,000 pounds per square inch. It could bite through flesh, snapping bone, and even crush hardened alloys. It went without saying; Hydralisks were not the only threat in a hive or highly infested area. Other species included the 'Roach', which, looked nothing like its namesake; a quadrupedal lifeform that evolved from an organism that had come to be after a meteor shower back in the late 2200's. But now, it hardly looked like the same extraterrestrial species; an extraordinarily tough armored genus that, when burrowed regenerated any damage it that had been incurred in a very short time. Their saliva was highly corrosive and can melt through metallic alloys in a matter of minutes. It was suggested they derived from a sort of slug-like creature.<br/>
<br/>
There were many, many lifeforms that lay buried in the ruins of the old cities. Most kept dormant for a would-be looter to pass along that they could snatch away and devour in a frenzy while the victim was still aware he was being eaten alive. The sounds of their bones snapping between jaws, which were more likened to serrated cleavers than mandibles, ripped and tore at you. Other organisms would rather dissolve you and then slurp someone up like some kind of...milkshake. Except there was one type of creature, and it was gargantuan in size that even Caanan would rather not have to deal with at all if possible--the Ultralisk.<br/>
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These mammoth sized creatures were 20 meters long and 5 meters tall. It dwarfed the largest known land animal in recorded history, the African elephant by more than just several feet. It was a gargantuan creature; one that could decimate anything in its path. That wasn't to say there wasn't a way to kill one--but you'd need a lot of ammo, be a very <i>damn </i>good shot and have a great amount of luck on your side; one slip up you could be trampled, devoured, gored--did I mention devoured?  They were large enough their mouths alone could gulp down a human being. Like taking that last bite of as though taking the last taking the last bite of a gourmet meal when famished. Yeah, he would not deal with their kind, if at all possible. Sure, he could take <i>one</i> down, but there might be three others and by the time he did manage to kill it--or at the very least mortally wound it, he'd never have enough ammo to fight off the 'Roaches', the Hydralisks, and Zerglings that would come swarming in when they sensed trouble was afoot.<br/>
<br/>
Not only that, Ultralisks came in different varieties and some, like the dreaded Omegalisk. The much larger evolutionary 'cousin' to the Ultralisk. It had everything the Ultralisk had; quad Kaiser blades, two on each side. These hulking scythe-like protrusions that extended like arms ending in large, unfathomably sharp blades; if spacefaring vessels were still around it could slice right through the hull of the ship like a blow torch to aluminum. It might not as well have been there; he's seen them trample and bisect walls several meters thick. Not only was its scissor-like mandibles incredibly destructive, its hide was nigh impossible to penetrate through conventional means. They had four massive blades, at least several feet in length, if not more. Two in the front like pedipalps and two rose a bit higher and were much larger. It had a bony 'crest' that covered its carapace in a nearly-impenetrable 'shell' of hardened bone that could withstand even prolong laser fire.<br/>
<br/>
He held the rifle in his hands; leveling it to his shoulder; buttstock tucked firm and square against his shoulder, taking aim as if about to shoot some imaginary horror. This would no doubt kill Zergling, a Roach, maybe a Hydralisk--but definitely not an Ultralisk or Omegalisk. Their armor could withstand 40mm grenades, rockets--even tank shells if they had a tank to fire them from. But, they had none of those things really affected the behemoth and if an Omegalisk did decide to show up, it was time to get the hell out of dodge. Those titans were not to be trifled with, even on a good day; covered in a bony spiked carapace that was a nearly impenetrable carapace. They were quadrupedal creatures, walking on four legs the size of Redwood trees and covered in in jutting spikes. Even their mouths, which had side mandible pincers, and nostrils hand sharp, thick boney protrusions; its side mandibles ending in the protuberances of the brownish flesh with red exposed like a turtle. Its size was gargantuan; easily 40-feet tall standing on all-four meaty legs.<br/>
<br/>
The four arms that extended from its thorax were at the very least, twenty feet long; curved like scythes and sharp enough to cut into the solid steel-alloy that the hulls of aerial ships were comprised of. This monster was nearly unstoppable. The only things that could get close to hurting it, were aerial creatures and aircraft that it could stay far enough from its reach. They wouldn't suffer the wrath of the bladed extremities. However, they could topple buildings, even skyscrapers--or what was left of them--and become battering rams to force fields. Cain didn't want to fight them; it wasn't a matter of being frightened--It was just being smart. The Omegalisks were like the alphas. They were bigger, stronger, and sturdier than the rest of their kin Ultralisks--and they had spiked tendrils that protruded from their bodies that whipped around like failing power lines. Even getting struck by one was potentially deadly as the force the exerted--especially when agitated--was devastating. It's 'tusks' were sharper than the typical Ultralisk. And it had a golden veneer to its chitinous exoskeletal armor.<br/>
<br/>
He continued to examine the rifle he'd so been waiting to have in his collection. It fired 45-70 rounds that used to be used for big game-- as fast as the user could pull the trigger and manage the lever. The hard matte chrome plating adhered to the entirety of the weapon save for the stock, forearm; with a checkered pattern along the pistol grip for extra grip. Both the stock and foregrip was both made of weathered walnut wood.  Everything was still in working order, however. The lever-action was smooth with little in the way of having to exert to engage it. It loaded 'hot' 500-grain bullets that would punch a hole straight through a Hydralisk carapace. Needless to say, they weren't very cheap. 100 silver or 1 gold per 50-rounds. And he knew better than to feel safe with just 50.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"I'll take it," </i>Cain stated. <i>"Between this and 200 rounds, I'd say it's about even with what's in here."</i> Cain hoisted the bag easily onto the table, his arm barely flexing as it bent like a crane to drop the heftiness of the contents with a loud clatter.<br/>
<br/>
Julián looked at Cain suspiciously then at the bag and back at him before eagerly grabbing the duffle bag unzipping it hurriedly. About a dozen handguns, several submachineguns,  four assault rifles, an LMG, and two shotguns were in the bag.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Jesus...How did you get all of this?"</i> Julián inquired his eyes wide and his mouth ajar in a flabbergasted manner.<br/>
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<i>"Very carefully," </i>Cain responded nonchalantly, chambering 500-grain 45-70 round into the lever-action rifle. Its barrel was plated steel, with a rounded hard chrome covering and a satin finish which all meant it was nice and shiny, and highly corrosion resistant. The barrel had a 1:20 twist and length of pull of 14" inches. The twist rate of the bullet kept the bullet stabilized in flight and therefore, more accurate at longer distances. In the days before the end o days as humanity knew it, this rifle was openly used to hunt Elk and Moose and a 100-yard distance. Both were large herbivores; stout and didn't go down easily. Though, reportedly, it could even take down brown bears, black bears, and Grizzlies.<br/>
<br/>
 The 14-inch length of pull was the length from where the middle finger rested, to the end of the buttstock. It was one of the more important aspects, however, overlooked it was because it sized the rifle to fit its shooter. It meant how comfortable and accurately one could fire the weapon in question. With the correct length of pull, you will have quick sight acquisition, better control, better accuracy, and feel more comfortable. While most rifles and shotguns were made to fit an average sized male. But, there were plenty including Cain and many women, who weren't average sized males. In Cain's case, the damn thing was too short. But that was okay, he could always one-handed like an 1887 "Mare's Leg" lever-action shotgun. It usually had the stock and barrel sawed-off and could be 'tumbled' in-hand to cock the lever action and to rapidly fire the weapon.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Are you sure you just want that one rifle and a handful of rounds?"</i> Julián asked regaining his composure. <i>"I feel I'm cheating you by a damn mile." </i>The man of Mexican descent stated in his accent before pulling out two very different guns. <i>"Wait? Did you service them yourself too?!"</i><br/>
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<i>"You can pay me back by affording me <i><b>that</b></i>."</i> Cain nodded to large scoped rifle behind Julián who turned his head and hefted the large bolt-action rifle from the couplings, setting it down on the table in front of Cain.<br/>
<br/>
The rifle in question was an Accuracy International sniper weapon system, chambered in a heavier .338 Lapua Magnum. It was painted an almost-black midnight blue. It weighed roughly 20 pounds with a three-zoom scope of 5x, 10x, and 20x, a 27-inch stainless steel  1:9.35 twist ending in a muzzle brake to displace the expanding gasses and the rising of the rifle's muzzle from the extreme force of the Lapua Magnum's exertion upon firing. The Lapua Magnum had been designed and developed for long-range military sniper rifles; a rimless, centerfire cartridge—it was a combat proven round designed back in 1989 and used during the first and second conflicts of the Iraq-Afghanistan Wars of the early 2000’s.<br/>
<br/>
While there has been a wide range of munitions since the early 2000’s to the time of the great cataclysm that wrought humanity’s destruction.  The types of ‘smart’ munitions were both unique and various; from changing trajectory during flight to an electronic device called an Inertial  Measurement Unit that measured and reported a body’s specific force, angular rate, and sometimes the magnetic fields surrounding the body. This had been done with an arrangement of accelerometers and gyroscopes—sometimes magnetometers. IMU’s were typically used to maneuver aircraft of the day, including unmanned aerial vehicles, spacecraft and even satellites. There were also sophisticated rounds which could transmit data where the round had been shot from; there were even bullets that would self-destruct within a limited range, to minimize the collateral damage in case of a miss. Though tricky, and the parts were hard to come by, Cain could actually craft intelligent munitions.<br/>
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At least, the ones that he deemed worth knowing how to build such as the casings that would detonate if he missed a target head-on or those that would change trajectory using fin stabilization and laser guidance to follow and to track an opponent. Again, the components were rarities and he’d only ever made a couple of clips worth of ammunition, so he tended to use them sparingly if at all possible. He was an excellent shot even without the knick-knacks from the tech of yesteryear, so he could afford to make each round count as much as it could in any given event.<br/>
<br/>
The Lapua Magnum was a good, stout round even without the intricacies of technology melded into it. It itself was a work of fine-tuning bullet expertise and aerodynamics and rifling. A fusion of sorts, an amalgamation; It didn’t need cameras or sensors. It needed a rimless, bottlenecked centerfire cartridge, a large magnum primer, and 300 grains of smokeless gunpowder to deliver a 250-grain round down range at 4,813 foot-pounds of muzzle energy. That was enough to tear through better-than-standard-body armor at 1000-yards.<br/>
<br/>
As Julián presented him with the beastly weapon, setting it down—bipod unfolded so that it sat upright—Cain rummaged through one of his many pockets to retrieve a small pouch of silver nuggets. Bobbing his hand up and down, he surmised by the weight that it held 40—possibly 50 silver nuggets, equally worth four or five gold ones. He tossed pouch of his remaining silver to the man.<br/>
<br/>
<i>“Down payment,”</i> he told Julián, now inspecting the Accuracy International sniper weapon system; lifting the bolt, pulling it back before thrusting it forwards and back down. The motion was swift and fluid as it should be. <i>“It’s been well oiled.”</i> He then commented.<br/>
<br/>
<i>“Homemade recipe,”</i> Julián chuckled before Cain offloaded his heavily modified Remington shotgun and handed it to Julián who blinked, taking the weapon with a puzzled expression.<br/>
<br/>
<i>“Collateral,” </i>Cain grunted, “<i>Until the next shipment.</i>” Cain then told him gruffly. <i>“Try to not sell it before I come back, hate having to re-buy from folks who never know what to charge.”</i><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
<i>“Oh, so I can wait until you’re in-line, then sell it?”</i> Julián shrugged, halfway smiling. <i>“Makes sense to me.”</i> Cain just glared, snorting as he un-cocked each round that was in the tubular magazine.<br/>
<br/>
<i>“You know, I’m starting to realize whose fingers I actually need to break in those situations, and oddly, it’s not the people trying to rip me off for once…”</i> Cain threatened in a playful sort of way.<br/>
<br/>
<i>“Ah, now, see you put me out of business and you have to deal with Ford; overpriced, barely functional guns. You’d then have to go to Roberta’s and deal with all her superstition—it’d just be a mess.”</i> Julián sarcastically responded.<br/>
<br/>
<i>“Okay, okay—Ugh, dealing with those people..."</i>Cain grumbled recalling the two. One would swindle him if given half a chance, the other would talk his ear off about some hocus pocus potion that was supposed to keep mutated lifeforms away--which didn't.<br/>
<br/>
If anything, Roberta's repellant seemed to attract the bastards and he didn't want to be caught holding that pot of honey when the bees came to investigate.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"But, I'll try not to sell it over the fine additions you've made to my arsenal."</i> Julián teased.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Good, I won't have to break the sheriff's other arm, or--at the very least--the one I broke just a while ago," </i>Cain commented, magnetically latching the fully loaded all-weather 45-70 to the rail that ran vertically parallel to his harness.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"I heard about that, has the whole town talking,"</i> Julián stated, making sure his adjustments to the scope were up to snuff. <br/>
<br/>
<i>"Surprised you didn't see <b>that</b>,"</i> Cain remarked, ensuring the muzzle brake was firmly secured with at 3/4" wrench that was laying out on the table. <i>"Thought most of the world saw that happen."</i> Cain then asserted.<br/>
<br/>
The weapon jutted in an upright, fixed position that followed the length of his right arm.  The buttstock, which extended to just beyond the back of his right pelvic bone--to the barrel which only extended one, to maybe two inches just above his right shoulder from its mounting--showed just how large he really was in comparison. The load-bearing set-up he had was not something new or innovative--well, generally speaking, of course. It was a black, IMTV, or Improved Modular Tactical Vest, like most military outfits had at the time of the end of the world, wore. Particularly here in the United States where the police and the military had similar gear.<br/>
<br/>
<br/>
Most people did not understand the means by which he operated; his tactical know-how was something all but lost in this rugged landscape. There were a few, sparse, set of 'rules' on generally needed to know before engaging anyone in a firefight. Cain learned early on in his life, there were two kinds of individuals that made up this lonely existence; those that were sheep; the blind following the blind--and those that were wolves by natural design. You could not mistake one for the other. For one, to take life was as easy as it was to allow it to be. The other huddled, scared and frightened in the dark hoping that numbers would be its savior; when it was just as well that it meant more for the taking.<br/>
<br/>
He was a predator, plain and simple. He hunted, he stalked, he preyed upon and he killed. When asked why he would answer: <i>"Because it is easy; for it is who I am. To lash out with violence like an instrument being strung violently; to gnarl my teeth and furl my knuckles and beat upon you like a drum of war."</i><br/>
<br/>
<div style="text-align: center">==========================================================================================<br/>
A Few Hours Later<br/>
==========================================================================================​</div><br/>
A few hours had passed since he'd made his dealings with Julián over at '<i>Gun Runners</i>', he'd traveled several miles in an eastwardly direction. The well-stocked traveler marched through the sweltering heat covered in the modular cumberbund-style main vest with groin, lower back and neck/throat protection. Covered from head to literal toe in gear, he was sweating profusely. It was as though he'd be doused in gasoline and left saturated and drowning. He only had a little further to go; stepping down on a crinkled, bent green sign that read: White Sands.<br/>
<br/>
New Mexico, like Nevada and Texas, was an arid wasteland; full of heat, sand, and strange wildlife mutated by the fallout of civilization.  Cain knew of a watering hole along where the city had disappeared in a monstrous sandstorm that left it buried under multiple tons sand carried by the winds from the Gobi Desert amid the firestorms that came after the nuclear detonations. He just had to get by the harsh sunlight, the blistering heat, and generally unforgiving environment. The constant crackle of the gravel under one's boots made them constantly aware--there was nobody helping you out here.<br/>
<br/>
Finding the sand trap by slowly sifting his boot through the sand, watching it drain down into some unfathomable pit. This was it, his first stop. Taking that uncertain step forwards, he dropped about twenty feet into a crouched position. The cavern was dark, but that was okay, once his crimson eyes adjusted the photoreceptors letting more light in than typical humans would. His eyes were similar to an owl's in the clarity of which he could make sense of things. He could feel his pupils dilate, growing larger to absorb every ounce of light, most notably the refractions off the water onto the stone surfaces of stalagmites and other such terrestrial formations. Cain held the large caliber rifle steady, gloved finger hovering over the trigger as heard splashing. The last time he was here he was met with a nasty surprise; a large crocodilian-like creature. Easing out from behind a rock formation, he leaned to his left to get a better look around another rock formation that had built up close to the watering hole's edge. <br/>
<br/>
Remaining crouched, his right eye winced shut, allowing greater clarity to be granted to the left as his cheek pressed against the buttstock and it peered through the 10x magnification. While he was expexting some scaly-tailed monstrosity, the reaction he came to actually have was humorous to anyone who could have only seen it as it was one of a more questioning nature; his eye seeing an attractive, slender silhouette with blond hair dripping wet and sensually curved buttocks with wide hips. The imagery made his jaw gape slightly before he checked the front of the scope. Julián at times liked to mess with him. That's when he spotted with both of his crimson colored eyes.<br/>
<br/>
"Oh shit." Cain muttered the words. " Oh no--damn human!" He growled, slinging his backpack off himself, dropping the rifle down next to it. He couldn't very well shoot at the lurking alligator that was swimming up behind her.<br/>
<br/>
Two large, white snowy hands reached out and grabbed Kade; one of arms folded over the voluptuousness of her breasts like a feverishly warm strap, the other tucked itself against the backs of her legs sliding dangerous low as he jerked her back. Just as he had a large mouth, full of bony teeth and a slithering tongue snapped shut with a bite force that could have rent her in two. Cain lunged out with one leg like a fell tree log smashing into the side of the creature's head, plowing it away from them. The monster alligator was about 15-feet long and 10 feet tall. It had a pair of jaws that looked to be exceeding from it its main carapace.<br/>
<br/>
<i>"Do you always cause so damn much trouble?"</i> Cain asked, looking down at her only momentarily as he kicked the creature away. <i>"Hold that thought,"</i> he said, tossing her as if she were weightless into the air. He then raised one leg parallel as he pivoted sharply on the other, before bringing it down sharply onto the creature's head. Cain quickly extended his arms, catching Kade as she plummeted, adding more weight to the creature's snout making it unable to move--at least, temporarily. <br/>
<br/>
<i>"Question. Answer. Now." He demanded.</i><br/>
<br/>​</div>