Good day, everyone.
Welcome back to another episode of Writing (R)Evolution with The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God.
So, our heroes return to their “normal” life. Ha. Nope. They can’t do normal, not now at least. So what does that leave for them?
Well, I can’t exactly say what yet. . .but let’s just say it involves Resident Evil. I mean, I enjoyed having a cross-over mashup of Star Trek with Fallout and WoW. Sure, there are aliens in Fallout, but when you combine TNG and Original Star Trek? Fun stuff.
I am happy with how things progress. It’s still raunchy in bits, witty, asinine, hysterical. . .but it’s in good fun, and I would like to think better than what it once was. Thus, the evolution of The Bear God and Friends.
Join us next time for more savage sezchuan secret sauce.
The Diary of the Wasteland Bear God
Season One: Episode Twenty-Five
[The Uh Ohs About Our Boys and GMOs]
Normality seemed to have returned to the life of The Wasteland Bear God. Albeit, it was still on his ridiculously, absurdly long quest for his missing son and wife.
He had gotten acquainted with a lost space crew. . .and as much to his surprise. . .he kind of enjoyed the company of others. Even if they dressed and spoke silly.
He had also become accustomed to his frenemy [and brother-in-law], Rubricon, and Ben’s company. Though, Ben was still hit or miss. . .depending on the circumstance. Rubricon, on the other hand, was more stable, more predictable. Although there was a part of him that wanted to keep warring with the rabbit humanoid, he also wanted to get his family back. Which in turn, allowed him to destroy those responsible. For this, he was thankful and smirked at the thought.
Today, the trio was traveling to a building that held genetic modification information, and other absurdities that didn’t interest the Bear God one bit. However, Rubricon insisted on the trip, and he reluctantly agreed. Ben only agreed just because there might be some killing. Go figure.
Sure enough, the tall, massive building stood high above the others, with pockets of Super Mutants and other threats. Well, to Ben, these were “treats,” as such he’d like to. . .advertise. . .or something of the sort.
It also marked a dilemma, seeing as how there was a group of Gunners, Raiders, Synths, Brotherhood of Aluminum folks, and Super Mutants all wanting to get inside, but here they all sat outside. Patiently waiting.
Curiosity was nipping the asses of the three Wasteland trekkers, and well, the murderous impulses of Ben were starting to show.
The Bear God cleared his throat, turned and said low to the Mirelurk companion, “Ben, hold, and control yourself. For one more day, I’d like to maintain this. . .makeshift peace. . .that’s presented itself to us. So, before we go in balls to the wall, hurling our junk down the throats of our enemies, just keep to yourself. . .or I’ll make you into a skidmark.
Ben shivered at the thought. Whether it was the thought of getting completely obliterated by the Bear God, or if it was the thought of actually going toe to toe with the massive beast that “plagued” the Wasteland, hell, it was Ben. It could have been any number of things. However, Ben nodded and acknowledged the Bear God’s threat.
“Very well, but if things get shoddy. . .I am tearing this place up!” Ben snorted.
“Fine. Rubri’s keeping an eye on you, though. I’ll go check this out.” The Bear God sighed.
“Great. Babysitting,” Rubricon sighed.
“Oh, shut up. You’d be doing it if we had Dante,” Sin retaliated.
The Bear God made his way to the group of misfits, all eyeing him uneasily. “Easy, I’m just here to see what’s up with the waiting room party.”
A deep voice behind the power armor mask was first to speak in reply. “We’ve all lost something. . .someone. . .who were brought here.”
“Taken. . .” someone said among the crowd.
“Taken? What do you mean?” Sin questioned.
“Brother taken! We find gear here. Screams and cries for help! We send others in. . .but they don’t come out. . .alive.” A Super Mutant spoke, clinging to pieces of what was probably his comrades.
“There is something amiss here. We came to investigate, seeing this houses older technology that could benefit Synths, and help restore the Wasteland to a greener glory. However, most traditional methods of entry are all dangerous or have been destroyed. Remarked a Synth.
“A lot of people. . .things. . .have been taken. It doesn’t matter if you’re a Synth, Mutant, Raider, whatever. You go missing, you probably end up here. It’s worse than the rumors about the Institution.” A Gunner added.
“Why haven’t you all gone apeshit over one another? I mean, you all hate each other, right?” Sin asked.
Most nodded while others shrugged.
“Sure, we hate these Raider, Mutant scum buckets, and walking tin cans. . .” a Gunner Sargent spoke, “but in the end of things. . .we’re all in this mess together, and well, no one shot first.”
“That. Is. So. Lame,” Sin replied.
“Call it what you will, fur ball, we’re actually doing something about this mess, and we look to see it through.” A Raider remarked.
“Uh huh. . . Well, I don’t suppose you’ll let me go willy-nilly in, and poke my head around? There’s some stuff in there I need.” The Bear God asked.
“If you bring back everyone, we will all part peacefully, and you can have whatever it is you’re looking for.” The power armored soldier stated. “We can recover the tech at a later time.”
“Agreed,” said the Synth.
Sin sighed. “Alright, let me get my friends, and we’ll go in.”
Everyone nodded and agreed with the Bear God. He regrouped with Rubricon and Ben, giving them the news of the matter.
“Maybe I should stay behind. You know, just to make sure it’s not a trap.” Ben stated.
“Yeah, you’d be the trap and kill all these sad saps. No deal. You’re coming with us.” Sin replied, walking past the group of assorted Wasteland folk that looked upon them with a look of disgust, contrary to themselves.
Ben sighed with sadness. “You never let me have any fun.”
“I’m sure there will be a lot to have once we get inside. . .” Sin stated.
The front doors were busted wide open to the lobby of the genetics building. Bodies were strewn about, some old from before when the bombs dropped, and some. . .fresh. A loud thud could be heard from up above, maybe about five or so floors.
Sin turned to Ben, “See? Fun awaits.”
Ben clattered his claws together, “Oh what fun!”