Goddess of War (closed for Bitwitch)

[Tx_Liquor]

Goddess of War (closed for Britwitch)

https://img00.deviantart.net/87e2/i/2012/179/a/6/post_apocalyptic_road_by_milkduster-d559j17.jpg
Rumors claimed the Virus was tested in the US by the US. It was supposed to create mutant super soldiers behind enemy lines and turn the people of a target zone against their own. Once the mutants were all that was left, a clean up of the mess would allow the US to win without ever shooting a rifle.

While the virus acted like the the flu people continued without knowing they were infecting the larger part of the world. This included the US as well, when the virus went unchecked from a small town that was considered ground Zero and sealed off for testing... leave it to the Military to unleash hell on earth. As the virus spread unchecked it was revealed that a small percentage of people were immune to the virus normally transmitted via enzymes through fluid to fluid contact. These 1% were considered a statistical anomaly....

That was before one woman was given a flash drive of information...

Deacon said, as he died "Make sure this gets to Long Island... Find Fitzcarin..." He groaned and the coughed, as more blood flowed from his rib cage. "Fitz can help... save what's left... It has to be... you..."

With that, Deacon died. After being immune himself, surviving mutant bites and raider attacks. After rescuing her and never expecting or asking anything in return... he'd even offered to share the last of his candy when the first met.

As Deacon died he left her only his guns and a back pack of survival previsions for just a few days. The weapons and flash drive to do with as she needed. The rest she'd have to figure out alone as she found her way from what was left of LA to New York.

 

[Britwitch]

Megan shouldered the heavy pack with a muted groan. She'd grown used to the weight over the last few weeks on the road but first thing in the morning, with her back protesting after sleeping rough, it was always harder. Last night’s shelter had taken the form of an abandoned garage. It had been dry and fairly secure, so she could cope with the discomfort of sleeping on the dingy carpet in the garage’s office. She’d slept in far worse places since she’d set off for the East Coast. Under bridges, in abandoned cars. She’d even had to seek refuge in a dumpster one particularly stormy night when the heavens opened.

Pulling her dark hair up into a messy bun she pulled a cap low over her face and slipped out of the side door. Keeping to the side roads and countryside meant she managed to avoid most people. She’d made it across the state line and into Arizona, she’d passed Phoenix and was now headed for the Tonto National Forest. At least that’s what the tattered map said that she kept in a pocket of her pack. She’d found it in a bus terminal she’d gone into in search of water in vending machines.

She tried to keep out of sight as much as possible, so her vague plan was to keep heading East until she reached Albuquerque and then head North for Denver. She’d heard, rumours more than anything, that there were survivors in Denver. Survivors who might be able to give her a ride East.

She knew any such assistance would cost her and it was a price she’d had to pay a few times since the world went to hell in a handbasket. She was young, she was attractive, she knew how to use her wiles to get what she wanted and if that meant sleeping with or providing ‘relief’ to some undesirable characters along the way then she would. She flirted enough before the outbreak to know how to use her curves to her best advantage, her narrow waist and flared hips caught eyes easily enough. Add a roll of said hips when she walked and she knew most men struggled to remember basic facts when she approached them. Her cleavage ensured their attention was kept on her until she decided she wanted it otherwise.

The first time she’d done it she’d hated it. He was a man older than her father had been and he’d stunk of old cigarettes and cheap booze. She hated herself and him but then she’d gotten the keys to the car she’d been bargaining for and that old hunk of junk had gotten her out of L.A. so as the days passed she’d reasoned with herself that it was just something she would have to do in order to survive.

Deacon had been different though. He’d found her along, snivelling in the shadows of an alley, shaking with fear and uncertainty. He’d offered her candy and a hug and had never asked for anything in return. His death had hardened her in more ways than she’d expected. She was determined not to let him down, not to have his death be meaningless. She was tougher now, she’d seen things, done things, she’d only ever seen in movies a few short months before.

Following the road, her boots clicking on the tarmac, she kept one hand on one of the guns stuck in her belt. One of Deacon’s guns. The other was well hidden deep inside her pack. Should she lose that one, which she had no intention of doing, she knew she’d still be able to defend herself. But the sight of it managed to keep some strangers at bay long enough to establish if they had anything to offer that was worth having or they were only thinking with the lower half of their body.

The flash drive was hidden too, inside her make up bag, which was full of products she didn’t really know how to use. Creams and powders, mascaras and eye liners she’d snatch up in a pharmacy to fill out the bag convincingly enough to make it seem that was all it held. Deacon made it clear that the small drive was incredibly important and so she needed to limit the chances of it being found. The men she met on the road were unlikely to want to borrow some lipstick so she figured it was a safe as it would ever be.

She kept her vivid green eyes alert, darting from the horizon to the sides of the road, glancing back every now and then over her shoulder.

 

[Tx_Liquor]

With provisions running low it was only going to be a matter of time before Megan would have to find more, which would likely mean making contact with people. This was always a risky en devour for a lone woman. It was rare to see a woman at all, much less an attractive one, and even less one traveling alone.

Deacon had tried to explain that it was all just simple genetics and upbringing. While any woman could be a warrior, so few were prepared for it pre-outbreak. This made them vulnerable, as a species, to not only the mutants but also what he liked to called 'the Honorless'.

Deacon was a white guy from La Jolla, CA but it was clear he'd studied a lot of the Easter philosophies. A random pre-outbreak fact that would account for his actions after the fall.

***

Hearing her boots something started to rise up from a large body of standing water that was part of some road drainage system. Without much maintenance many of the drains were starting to back up or just not working at all, meaning rain had no where to go. And whatever this mutant started out as, it had adapted to this environment perfectly.

Deacon has once tried to explain how the retro-virus worked based on what he'd seen on the flash drive. After the virus killed it's host it then started to re-program the hosts DNA so that days later the "dead host" seems to come back to life with the goal of surviving at all costs. This means someone without a head but with the virus will come back as a creature that didn't need one. It also meant if the environment was better suited for a certain time of creature, it could become that creature.

The bottom line meant that a mutant could start out as anything and in just a short period of time, evolve into anything. The more it consumed the more it evolved as needed. It was a truly terrifying concept as was the large mass of flesh and bone that was now coming out of the water. It was only 6 feet tall, but that was more than enough.

A face full of tentacles, four distorted but human looking arms and feet that looked like ribs or cab legs from it's "chest" down allowed it to move quickly through water, mud and especially the street. Deacon's advice was like a voice in her head.

"Never run. You don't know how fast one of them will be. Only run if you're close to shelter. You're in their world now. They have evolved to hunt wherever you find them. If there are trees nearby? Assume the can climb trees. Water? Assume they can breath under it. 90% of the time, you'll have to fight."

The Mutant charged forward, eyeless face howling as it moved on Megan quickly. Deacon had taught her to wait for it's attack and then get out of the way of it. She had to be faster and smarter. They would do reflex drills every night just to make sure Megan's body would never freeze up in the face of danger.

As the monster lunged it actually used it's arms to propel itself forward, the bone like portions of it's chest and "legs" whipping out from it's almost lobster shaped body. It was as if the arms were the legs and the body was now the claw.

Megan was able to side step and her eyes just happen to catch sight of the creatures four arms like legs. As Deacon had once said, "If something has legs, go for a knee. If it can't stand, it can't run. That's when you do." So without even thinking about it she kick at the "elbow" of the larger arm, only to find it was dense and strong. She night need something with more impact but if she could side step it again, she was sure she could take out at least one arm.

It would still have a kind of back up arm but taking out one large and one small would probably preventing this thing from attacking that way. It could still run on it's "belly" but it couldn't run AND attack.