Jar of Filth: Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Jar of Filth

Earth, whatever glory Earth once held is now but a crumbling pile of steel, ash and stone. A testament to the failures of mankind as a species, a monument branded as a reminder of the wrath of Mother Nature and a wasteland meant to serve as the proving grounds for the fittest. And yet this is Earth, still our Earth. Only now, it's our hell and not only home.

Today is November 7, 2034, the sun still shines and the world still turns. Albeit the once radiant light of the sun is now blotted out by debris in the sky. Today is also the seventh anniversary of the death of human civilization and the seventh anniversary of the birth of the Badlands Confederacy, a patchwork horror of 17 differing tribes with varying levels of bloodthirstiness and civility all with the same intentions. To become the king of the wasteland.

But like with all kings, there has to be someone to push around in the bottom rung. Someone has to be the whipping boy, someone has to be the slave and someone has to do all the boot-licking. Which is why there are guys like me, guys who chose to live far away from the confederacy and do without the burden of a ball and chain.

It's not an easy life though, the sun scorches the wasteland with unyielding rage, the wildlife mutated into monsters that could slaughter the average man, the environment is radioactive and bears little room for life and the few humans that live out here far away from the confederacy develop mutations, some for the better, some for the worse.

I for one am lucky enough to have developed beneficial mutations, although it could just be my genetically enhanced body just kicking into high gear to combat this crumbling planet. Of which the full extent of the gene mongering itself are unknown even to me.

Not that I hate it though, since I'd rather be the monster than the prey in this heaping pile of filth.

But even monsters have a duty, and mine is to live. It is also a duty i have performed for years and years and years. But I fear today might be the day when a new duty is forced upon me.

Atleast that's what this hulking heap of metal and stone sculpted together to form beauty akin to ages long lost tells me. It's a beautiful sight, a fortress nearly as tall as it is wide, with gates that could fit a battleship in it and fitted with technology that even the confederacy could only dream of achieving. An imposing sight but nevertheless a useless one since out here in the middle of nowhere what use could a fortress be?

Unless, it's not a fortress and actually something else. And that something it seems I'm about to find out.

The metal hums a faint sound, similar to a car's engine running except a bit muffled. Not an uncommon sound to hear in the wasteland as the dessert takes it's toll on the human mind. There is a difference between this noise and the others though, it is that it grows louder and louder until the sound drowns all ambient clamor. Stirring within me a feeling of awe as the once faint humming coupled with the dessert buzz is replaced by the sound of steel mashing against steel and of cogs churning a once dead machine.

All that awe is perfectly placed though, as the steel gates that tower beyond even the confederacy's junkyard skyscrapers slowly begin to open. A wonderful sight truly, seeing a marvel of technology at work open it's doors to me. But that is not all that catches my eye. Inside the structure is something you would never even dream of ever setting your sights upon in the wasteland, a pristine world, a full ecosystem, an entirely different world of untouched paradise walled off by an alloy three men thick.

Questions flutter around in my mind as I begin to comprehend how such a world could even have existed to begin with. It's very unlike from what I remember in the pre-wasteland world, the flora is of radically different appearance, the wildlife bears species that I have never seen nor heard of and every living being here bears some resemblance of technology somehow tethered to their body. Almost as if they were designed with their bodies having accomodations for technology built into them.

Such a vestibule of untapped knowledge and yet the whole place no matter how glorious and magnificent it is bears an eerie glow of an alien world. A world of which seems like it bears no place in the wasteland. And rightfully so, seeing as the entire structure itself was walled off and gated. But then again, why did the gates open for me? Could it have been a mistake? Maybe an error on the structures A.I perhaps? Or maybe just sheer luck. Whatever it is, I plan on making the best of it.

My eyes scour the surroundings for information, visual clues that could tell me anything about this alien world. I just hope that seven years of knocking on death's door is more than enough. I spot tucked away in a corner something that seems to me is a gun, atleast appearance wise since it does indeed look like a gun. Albeit it seems to be somewhat different from conventional guns.

The gun itself feels quite weightless despite it being nearly half of my size, having two barrels the size of my thumb and a a bulky look that reminds me of something like a gigantic sci-fi rifle. A closer inspection of the gun reveals a trigger but unlike any other gun I've used, it lacks any trace of a magazine clip. Instead it seems to rely on some kind of power core slotted inside of it. Only reason I was even able to deduce this at all is because one of the eight pistons attached to the gun started glowing when I pulled the trigger.

Well, now it's two and rising. It seems that holding the trigger powers up the "gun" but I can't really jeopardize my position by risking such a huge thing misfire so I decide to let go of the trigger and just strap the unwieldy thing onto my back. Strangely enough, the pistons do not stop glowing, why it doesn't though I might not ever know.

With my assessment of my recently scavenged goods done I light up one of my old cigars I've been saving up for a special moment like this and take it upon myself to wander off into the depths of this uncharted world. A world still ripe with opportunity and chance, a world still fit for the living and a world that I will soon make mine.

An amazing opportunity I know and I sure as hell won't squander it. Especially since this might just be humanity's ticket out of the wasteland. A ticket we long have been in dire need of.

I continue to wade into the deeper parts of the biome, heaving a heavy sigh to myself as the once sparse patches of plantlife quickly morph itself into thickets of unknown flora. Of course such an obstacle is by itself not much of a hindrance to me since years in the wasteland have sharpened my skills but these plants aren't your ordinary plants. In fact, these plants have a distinctly metallic sound to them when I cut through them.Quite a feat really since the amount of effort I need to produce in order to cut down even just a small vine is akin to slicing through armor.

Not like that's saying much since confederate grade armor is quite shittily made in all honesty, and just like the plants here, they might be tough but there are glaring weaknesses in the design of it everywhere. Granted, confederate armor is basically just patchwork metal junk and not actual smithed armor. But still, you'd atleast expect some sort of craftsmanship from the self apointed authorites of the wasteland.

The trek continues with plantlife falling left and right for what seems like forever until something catches my eye, there's a small glimmer from inside the dense patches of one of the plantlife. It looks to be some sort of latch, maybe a remnant of some sort of human dwelling or atleast intelligent life that once inhabited this place. If there ever was any.

I hack and slash through the vines and the bushes, clearing a path for me to approach the latch. The total amount of time it took me to clear the path had approximately taken around half an hour if my guessings are correct. Not alot of time for most people but not for me, half an hour spent doing nothing but clearing is half an hour lost time that couldve been spent making a shelter, especially since the vines I've cut do not seem like I could craft a makeshift hovel out of them.

Well, I just hope my misguided faith in that latch doesn't come back to bite me in the a*s.

As soon as I am in reach of the latch, I grasp it both hands, steady myself and muscle up a great heave. It doesn't budge, not a sound, not a creak, nothing, just nothing. It seems like all that s**t went I went through was just for nothing and even worse, it seems like the real hell is just about to start.

An animal, a wild beast of some sort seems to have stalked me.It stands by an arm's length away from me, eyes steeled at it's prey, teeth bared and it's cybernetic body tensed up to strike. How I didn't pick up on it's stalking is something that surprises me, all my senses are enhanced far beyond human limits after all but staring the beast in the eye gives me a sense of comfort that maybe it's not me that's failing, but rather the beast is as much of a predator as I. Especially since the beast itself not only towers over me, in fact if I had to guess I'd put it at around eight feet tall while standing on all fours.

And another surprise, the beast takes a step. The distinct sound of hulking footsteps you would expect from a beast of such stature is nonexistent, silent as the dead of the night in fact. Quite a unnerving event, since you would never expect something like this to be possible.

And another step, and another and another, until it stands just inches away from my face.