009 ran frantically through the Wasteland, searching for who he believed could be the only help to save him, let alone the Wasteland from the Anti-Bear God, and the Toymaker’s evil plans. As he ran, he thought back on the memories of his parents. His father was a proud Deathclaw patriarch of a now extinct clan, while his mother was a matriarch of a west coast clan; also now gone. He remembers being told that they were forced to copulate and produce an egg at weapon point.
“Do it…make me an egg, make me something that will be magnificent to unleash upon the world.” The Toymaker grinned.
The pair of scared Deathclaws huddled close to one another. Wanting to rip out the heart of the man that stood before them.
After a period, a dozen or so eggs were made. All but three were deemed insignificant…destroyed. He was the last to hatch.
He remembered his parents trying to protect him, and the name they had given him.
“Percival,” His mother said.
“Glorious, he shall serve me well,” said the Toymaker hidden from the shadows.
“No! You cannot have him!” yelled the Patriarch Deathclaw.
“I am afraid you have no objection in the matter, dear daddy.” Said the Toymaker. He signaled the group of guards to come into the Deathclaw cage. “Secure the runt.”
The guards nodded.
“I’ll rip you, limb from limb!” Percival’s father bellowed as he went berserk and started to tear the guards apart.
“Ah, ah, I have bigger plans for you.” The Toymaker said as he shot a dart at the father Deathclaw, sending it crashing to the ground.
The small Deathclaw roared in retaliation and started to charge the evil scientist.
The Toymaker grinned wickedly. “This one has spunk. He’ll do well.”
“No, you cannot! You’ve torn my family apart as it is. I will kill you for your insolence, fleshling!” the Mother Deathclaw yelled.
009’s parts beeped and whirled, the conflict of coding and memory fighting one another. He pressed on through the pain and remembered.
A guard fired a net at the runt Deathclaw, causing it to crash on the ground. The Mother Deathclaw enraged and began assaulting everyone in the cage with her, attempting to free her incapacitated partner.
“Mo…ther.” Percival cried as he slowly became unconscious.
“Percy, you must be strong.” His mother said as she was injected with a mysterious serum via dart by the Toymaker.
“You two will make me some beautiful babies…” the Toymaker said grinning. “Send the father for reconditioning in the Mecha Program.
“Yes, sir,” A few guards said as they began to transport the unconscious patriarch.
“What of the mother, sir?” asked another guard.
“Convert her,” the Toymaker replied as he knelt down next to the now sleeping Percival.
“I will avenge you, mother, father. I will dispense justice. However, I cannot do it alone.” 009 said to himself as he ran through the Wasteland; dashing past settlements and abandoned buildings.
The last few memories that Percival remembered before being reconditioned himself was watching his father who was now half machine, half Deathclaw, rebel against the guards. He watched on in horror as his father was electrocuted, along with several groups of guards. The hallway smelled for weeks of burnt flesh and hair.
He also remembered his mother trying to break out of the holding cell before being reconditioned. She fought bravely, valiantly…but it was all for naught. The Toymaker ordered for her dismemberment.
There, before his eyes, was she torn limb from limb, tail, and head. Then sliced and ground up. She was then served as food for the captured raiders and other experimental subjects. He had known anger, pure hatred. He loathed the Toymaker with every fiber of his being. He knew, though, that he had to come up with a plan. He needed time.
He went through the reconditioning process. Learned of the Toymaker’s plans. His affiliation with the A.B.G. and knew of their nemesis, The Wasteland Bear God. If he was so powerful to make them fear him, to bring others to their knees…he could surely help him.
He had bided his time long enough and felt ready to deploy his plan. Some of the Toymaker’s most loyal subjects and scientists, however, didn’t feel compelled to his plans for world domination, let alone betraying the A.B.G. or trying to go to war with the Wasteland Bear God. AS such, he was outfitted with a device that could suppress the total shock that would have otherwise fried his circuitry and made him meet his end to the compactor.
He had a friend on the inside, though he didn’t know if they’d still be alive, if and when the Toymaker came to find out who betrayed him.
009 continued his search. He knew, though, that he was ahead just by enough. He knew what lurked, what was coming for him.
Sure enough, not too far behind the fast traveling 009, the SS was scouring the Wasteland, following his tracks.
A man in a face mask and special dark camouflage suit signaled to the others, “He’s been through here alright. Let’s step up the pace, everybody.”
He hopped on the back of a traveling member of his squad in power armor. There were seven in all. A few piloted in their elaborate power armor suits, while some rode on the backs of them. Except for one who wasn’t present…but they could get anywhere in seconds. Oh, and the one that had a jetpack in specially modified armor crafted by the Toymaker himself.
Inside one of the power armor suits, the Toymaker communicated privately with one of the members. “Keep an eye out. If you notice any signs of insubordination, notify me. If you do, I’ll spare you from the fate of your predecessors. Understood?” The man behind a bandaged face nodded. “Good. I just can’t wait to show them all my new toys.” The Toymaker said before cackling maniacally.