Here is the conclusion to Rotten Tog, with several major announcements at the end of this post, enjoy!
Rotten Tog (concluded)
The sun spiraled out of control, releasing Machiavellian ferocity to the infertile lands. The green died down, a vast yellow of sun-kissed Earth was as unlivable as the dismal Malebolge, littered with mythical beasts of jovial jaws lined with sharp ivory. David rode aside the mass of Tog, and felt like a babe swaddled in blanketed skin of ruby, a flea on the back of a blue whale. Together, they advanced onward towards whatever accounts as a goal in this world.
David was weary: the radiation was no longer a factor in his life, but the unforgiving was enough to make even the ashes of the dead burn. Tog clambered over debris mountains that blocked the paths to Salamander, who surely was impatient for the Spire. He had more power than anyone else in the Wasteland, but he was apropos to power by weaker-minded men, and fiendish followers that allow tyrants to form from out of the exertion of doing nothing. It was Roger Salamander that forced the direction of the Wasteland. Apparently, the world could never rid itself of men that see opportunity in the time of great tragedy.
David knew that Roger Salamader would have him killed, and turn Tog into a sideshow to make enough credits on to make the rotten juggernaut a new Wonder of the World. David rembefes a book he read a a child on the Seven Wonders of the World, it was about great feats achieved by ancient man. Today, ancient man created the atom bomb, improved binary fission, and Tog was the unnatural answer to the bare outcome of when those reactions blow. Salamander would write Tog like everything else the bastard claimed,
The skies opened as the acid rain fell more like flakes than the rain of his youth, David knew that his skin was hardened by centuries of life masqueraded as a static death. Yet, Salamander's skin was hardened by a lack of humanity. He rode on the side of the giant, but knew that the real monster was who would sell him his freedom, all for some pre-apocalyptic aritfact. Whatever got him out of the Wasteland, the better.
"So Tog, why were you even roaming the Outside? I mean, I can understand why you'd not want to trust humans, but why go all the way out there to avoid any remanant of society? Why the Outside?"
"Tog does not care about the Outside. It technically not a bad place to live, humanity treats Tog like shit, so only in the barren wastes does Tog find recluse. Also, Tog seen great deal of the world, and searched for many sunshine units, now Tog wants to find his own kind. All life unique and indicative from other life, but even Tog knows there must be similar being like Tog. Even in scarce world, not one being is absolute."
David understood, he knew that even in a world as dismal as the one he's watched grow into a wild of pathetic survival, that even the fiercest natural rejections can feel lonely. Even Tog, perceivable a monster, must want to understand his own existence, come to terms with his own circumstances. David himself had become something of a monster, and he wasn't afraid to admit it, but he dared not speak of such things in front of Tog, who for all his physical deformities, was intellectually sound, not some half-minded twit that has no sense of self.
The compound for the Bastard Scourge lady ahead, it was small for the complex headquarters if the scum of scum, but even Salamander was limited by design, the world really was reset to zero, and even kings had to sully themselves in the shit-filled streets with the rest of humanity. It was silted with as much radioactive dust as most other buildings completely exposed to the elements,mbut it was still far better than most of the buildings that have become so shambled, dilapidated by bombs, hellfire missiles, and even a ree pockmarks for a .45 pistol, that the compound, nicknamed the Grasshopper, because gave the semblance of the former green insect, whose successors now are the size what David could only describe as Great Danes. Still, the building had its charm, this wasn't his first time ever seeing, it from afar, nor would it be his first time entering.
A couple of Salamander's thugs were watching from afar, and once they saw limbering Tog, David could tell that they were already in a frenzy over what he understandingly could grasp that a big monster nearly twelve feet tall was heading their way. More mend came out, machine guns aimed at Tog and David. David knew that having Tog come right up to the front door was not a very whol some idea, but he also knew that it would be better if Tog stayed back.
"Tog, you may want to hold back a bit, they're not the friendliest bunch in this area, and Roger's guys aren't the most understanding of things outside the realm of the Bastard Scourge. I might wanna play it safe and have you stay back, I'll go ahead and deliver the Spire. Now I don't have the right to ask of this of you, but if I do get into some trouble, if you would like to come help, I'd greatly appreciate it, friend."
Tog smiled a bit, but what half wasn't a smile, couldn't be more distinctive of a grimace if it came coupled with even the loudest sigh ever bellowed.
"Tog don't mind helping out little man, but Tog concerned on just how you will be able to single for help from behind thick walls."
Yes, normally thwt would be a concern, given the circumstances that most things tend to go array when you lest expect them to, but David was no first-timer to trouble. Granted, he'd welcome desth gracefully, but after getting so close, after so many months of tracking down the damn instrument of Salamander's desires, he'd rather not die until after he accounted for his riches. Who wants to die before they get paid, right?
"I'll set off a hand bomb, it has a very short fuse. You hear it, you come marching in with authority. If you don't, I won't hold it against you, but get far aways from this place as fast as you possibly can, becaue Salamander will try everything to hunt you down and claim you as a victo's prize. Things should run smoothly,mbut if not, it was an honor knowing you for this short time. Hate to say it's an a. Honor to know most people not out to kill you these days for a ya period of time. Still, I'd appreciate the back-up if needed."
Tog wasn't quite sure what to say next, but he grunted in response, but didn't give headway on whether or not he intended to actually help out David if it came to a firefight. David dropped down lightly to the sandy ground, and began to walk towards the Grashopper, he held the Spire high, and waved his hands empathically in the air. Once Salamander's men realized who was coming towards him, they backed off, and actually moved aside to let him into the compound.
The low-lit room was barely powered by dying generators, and misshapen candles. The compound floor was covered in dried blood from those who have failed Salamander before. It was a pretty nasty sight. Most other people would be frightened in being in such a precarious position, but David wasn't really that terrified, this was the last time he would ever have to deal with Salamamder ever again. Still, so hung was off, and hr was thinking gang Roget was going to back out of the deal, because he was starting to feel very unsafe by the fact that Slams der's thugs seemed to be surrounding him without halting. He was about to grab the hand bomb hidden inside his pocket, when Salamander stepped out from of the main atrium doorway.
"Enough boys! Let's give this guy some air, look at him, he's turning blue with your bad style! And look at this! He's got my Spear, or Spire, or whatever the hell it's called. All I know is that he did his job, which is or than I can say for most of you morons! I gotta say, Davey Boy, I'm quite surprised you're not fucking dead, but instead you're hear days earlier than expected!"
"Here's the Spire, do you hsve the credits I've asked for? I want to part from here, and head to sea. I'll make myself scarce, and you can do whatever the hell you want." David was sweating , the radiative dust was piercing his sunken eyes as he feverishly wiped his forehead.
Roger Salamander saw this nervousness, and was almost bashful at David's fear.
"Davy, Davy, Davy! You're making me all humble over here! I knew I was a terrifying guy, but to make your millennium-aged ass petrified. Trust me Davy, if I was gonna have out offed, it'd have happened well before you even entered the o'l Grasshopper here. Don't worry, I got your credits, and only wish you a nice retirement. You've been good to me, my father, and his father before him. Truth is, you've been almost a family heirloom, but a voice of reaaon, why I've always saw you as a friend, and I hope you feel the same."
"Look, I just want to get out of the heat, I know it's not a realistic dream, but I wanna go to higher ground, a place where I'm not known, a seclusion that is invariably safer than it is here. Overall, I want my own personal state of tranquility."
"Okay Kafferty; okay, we get it, you got smarts, and balls. You got what I've wanted,mand you've helped me get a great deal of success in the Wasteland, and for that sir, a million credits is not enough. So here, take this, and be gone, we don't have any more business, but don't be shy, stop in again before I'm too old to remember my damn name
Oh I don't think you'll ever forget that you're the Bastard of the Scourge, not even if you live seven-hundred years. Dsvid thought to himself, but he only smiled and nodded waving a hand to Roger. He turned, and attempted to get to the door, but Slamander's men did not make way. David laughed under his breath, readjusted himself, and again tried to move through the crowd, but he was more pushed back, rather then hindered from moving forward.
"Heh, tell me, Roger, was this part of the plan all along? Is it the money? A million I it's is a splash in the pan for you!"
He heard a click, and turned to see a carbine rifle puttering in his direction. He knew he wasn't mortal, and a diesel-powered rifle would be sure to cut holes in him large enough to make him more abstract space than grizzled mass.
"Nah, it's not really abut the ones, and it's not even personal, David. See, you're a pretty popular guy down in the Swash Backs. Turns out there's a couple of mercs that have a hard-on for your head. They're offering twenty-times the going rate of most other bounties, and every cocksucker from the Wilds to the Bay are hunting your ass down. Twenty billion credits! Hell, I'd turn myself in for that sort of money! So friendship aside, I'm sorry but you're gonna have to be spending that holiday of yours in some shithole down deep in the Swash. Look at the bright side though! At least my great-great-great grand kids will have you to thank for getting out of this Wasteland scum fuck hole of a world!"
David smiled, whistling off whatever lips he had left, and slowly turned around to face the dozen men thwt stood, posed with their rifles aimed right at his head. "What? You're not gonna face me, David?" Salamander sneered.
"Well, I know that you like to shoot people in the back, so why not your friends too? Besides, it's easier to look at these sorry mugs, you really are the Bastard of the Scourge; you know that, Rog?
"Don't fucking call me that, Kafferty! Not you!"
This wasn't David's first rodeo, he kept a dead-stare with zombie eyes locked on all twelve men in-front of him now, as his right hand slowly reached into his pocket, as he gently removed the pin to the hand bomb. He smiled as he heard it lightly click, but nobody else was paying attention, as they sweated bullets in his wake. David's reputation was known throughout the Wastes. He was seen as a legend, and a myth, a man out of time who had forgotten more than most people could learn. He was not a pushover, and these men knew he was a monster: a silver-tongued devil.
"You see. Speechless, I'm sure you weren't expecting this, were you, Kafferty?"
"Nah, but you're not going to expect what I'm cooking. David smiled, and the twelve men with guns backed up
Now Roger Salamnder, who had grown men of higher stature, and nobler status on their knees begging for mercy, was growing concerned.
"Did this stupid fuck just threaten me? Did this fuck just grow the biggest set of balls this side of the Roundtop threaten me? I knew you were stupid, but I didn't realize you were that fucking stu-"
With a swift spin on the ball of his skeletal heels, David turned around, and popped the cooking hand bomb into Roger's mouth, shoving him backwards, and grabbing the carbine, spinning around as the bomb blew up Slamander's head in a bloody mess. Kafferty unloaded several rounds as the flabbergasted men we're still watching eyeballs and skull fragments of their boss flying around like a snow globe. Kafferty clipped three of the twelve, as he hid behind a metal crate. He clutched the credits to his chest with one arm, the gun firmly gripped in the other.
There were about thirty men that were loyal to the end to Salamander, but he wasn't sure if they'd follow their boss to the end. Either way, he wasn't going to chance it, but he knew that even his skills were not enough in such a small structure with such a large number of enemies. His chances of survival were slim. That was just fine with him.
It was approaching a hard minute since the bomb went off, and still no sign of Tog. Perhaps Tog left him to be, perhaps he was already gone from the area, long out of earshot of the bomb, and the continuing barrage of bullets. Or worse: perhaps he was already gone, dead from Salamander's men in an ambush attack. He accepted that this was his fight, and quite frankly it was even wrong of him to suggest thwt Tog give a damn about him, but for a bit of time, just in a few sentences, he thought there was a brotherhood connection, two outliers forced by circumstance to become friends. In this world, friends were worth more than twenty quadrillion credits.
The engine of the carbine gurgled and puttered as David shot above his head at Salamander's remaining fiends, but they were all piling in around him at an alarming rate. There seemed to be even more than the estimated thirty, by nearly doubled the goons. Also, the carbine rifle was running out of ammo,mand if that weren't enough, it died out, and seized up, as the last bullet spit out between the eyes of.a poor scumbag that left himself wide open.
He thought that perhaps the men could be reasoned with, surely they could...then again, most of the guys still alive had overheard Roger's announcment of how much his bounty was worth, and that was enough to have them make sure that his head was right in the hands of the Swash mercs. He started to laugh, thinking back to what Roger said before he was an abstract painting, that of he were David, he'd have turned himself in for that sort of bounty. It showed that there was no humility left. Maybe it would be better for them to fill him up with enough holes that no amount or radiation could bring him back.
CRASH! The ivory whalebone jaw smashed the door open, splattering a great deal of the men shooting at David. Tog came in, rating like a bear inside a cave during an earthquake. The men scattered, now turning their attention to the giant mountain of a figured. David smiled, he wasn't alone, and he at leat get to see the sun set on the ocean one more day. That was, if they made it out alive. Even so, the optimism for such a hope was good enough if these were his last moments.
Tog brutally smashed and crushed the ant-like men in his way, looking out to make sure David was not amongst the strewn bodies, as the bullets bounced off like pebbles kicked up in the dust of battle.
The blood squirted up high in the sky, splashing like flung paint about the brown, rusted room, tainting it to a black color. There were screams to hold rank, yowls of pain that sounded like animals, and body parts amassed in terrible patterns all about what could only be described as a killing floor.
David saw the gore, and for a few moments, he almost felt pity for these ruffian followers. Then he came backs to his mind, as Tog gently picked him up, and the two burst through the wall again, credits in hand, and a string of bodies like monkeys in a barrel laid in their wake. The last thing David saw was the Grasshopper crumbling downwards to the ground, in a huge ashen mess. David looked down, and saw he was clipped in the side, it wasn't mortal, but in the irradiated Wastes, even a paper it could be the death of you.
The two of them made it to the docks, and with a clean rag, and some duct tape, the woundDavid received was as clean, and as patched up as good as one could get in the Wasteland. The two of them jumped aboard one of the largest pre-apocalyptic yachts that was still untouched. The owner was completely shocked by the immensity of Tog, but he took his 40,000 credits regardless. David smiled as tog laid him on a bed inside the bowels of the ship. The yacht was more like a tanker,,in that within its walls, even Tog looked small. David told Tog to travel Northwest, and to wake him at dawn. Tog nodded in compliance, as the two of them headed off down the tributary.
Where would they go? What lurked beyond the borders of the radiation? Was there anything else around, or was it all just decaying from the center, outwards? Whatever happened, they were assured that they we're friends, two freaks in a world that creates nothing but monsters. So they traveled towards higher places, unfamiliar faces, and new experiences. Destiny was at hand for David Kafferty, and Rotten Tog.
Thank you so very much for reading the Malacasf Editorial, and I hope that you've enjoyed Rotten Tog. I was quite excited for this particular story, it was something I wanted to write since completeing Enclosure, and it really was inspired by my current circumstances. The story was emphatically fun to write, but I've also wanted to complete this story in the allotted amount of time, so I may just do a one-shot sequel down the line one of these days. Seeing at how I've set this story up, tying up loose ends with both characters, there is room to continue this story, but for now I hope you enjoy this ending, but know that it's surely not the last time I write about these characters. This upcoming Monday, will be return to Monday Blogs, specifically another Short Story Weekly. I have a very, very busy schedule the next few months, so I will be writing up a storm of stories and posts.
Now for the announcments: For years I've been writing, and praising other media: books, film, games,,and I've done #MondayBlogs, started my #ShortStoryWeekly project, which has forced me to become a better writer, and allowed me to spread my wings, and feel free to immerse myself into worlds for short visits, but my time spent there has been nothing short of wonderful. I've also teased my first book, literally the first book I've ever written. The Divine. I want to share my work with everyone here, and I will be giving a small tidbit for free on the Malacast Editorial exclusively. It will be even shorter than the sample copy you can download once the story is up online, but it will be enough to set the scene. The book has been edited, if anything slipped by, it will be caught prior to full-on publication.
The big announcment is: the sample of the book will be up on the Malacasf Editorial on Friday, April 29th. This is exactly one week from today, and the sample will be free. The book's publication date is still later in 2016, but I cannot at this time give a precise date.
I have one smaller announcment: I will still be doing a short story the week I release the sample, but I am going to make sure it's released this Monday. So for the first time in a long-while, next a Short Story Weekly will also be a #MondayBlogs post. I expect it to be a very good story, and far different than most others posted this year. I've already started writing it prior to this publishing this post. So look for all that post for Short Story Weekly. I can also announce now, leading up to the weeks before E3 takes flight, that I'll be doing several game-related posts. I'll be doing a dreaded Top Ten list, several base commentaries on the industry in another post, and of course my official preview post for E3, which will be different than the predictions post, having different connotations on the trade show itself, and its guest developers. Those post will be very late May, Early June. Hard to believe weare nearly into summer! But the year has been a rollercoaster for entertainment, with Deadpool perhaps being the biggest surprise of all, and the hope for a sequel as early as 2018!
Thank you again for reading the Malacast Editorial, I appreciate all my readers from around the world, and how I keep growing with readers as the months accumulate. I appreciate those who keep returning, and I can only continue to do my best to create more great content. Also, the big 300th post will be happening fairly soon, hopefully before E3, but if not, I'll make sure it's worthy of such a milestone.
