If you’ve followed up until now, congrats, you’ve seen [well, read] almost 30 episodes, er, diary entries of The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God. It’s been a great, fun, adventurous, titillating ride. At least, doing the whole “Writing (R)Evolution” bits.
I am going to go to 30 and then stop doing them. They’re cliche at best. I’ve told and shown what the story has evolved from, is going to, and so on. Doing recap posts is like doing highlight episodes and well, you can do them only so much before you want to stick your finger in an electrical outlet. Don’t do that by the way.
Anyway, this is The Crimson Tyrant Arc. If you haven’t guessed yet, this is when I decided to fuse Resident Evil (another of my favorite series) with this series. What better way than to genetically mutate a being that was created solely for destruction? Let it fight a Bear God.
Well, I eventually decided to kind of let things go and give Ben some screen time. I enjoyed it.
Also, there’s green goo. It gets in The Bear God’s eyes, and the goggles do nothing. Arnold, I would hope, be proud.
Anyway, more to come and then it’s off to doing new things.
The Diary of the Wasteland Bear God
Season One: Episode Twenty-Seven
[My Mirelurk Can Beat You With No Pants On]
As our fearless trio delved deeper into the mystery of what the genetics building held, and as to what the hell the Maker was going on about with “The Tyrant,” and the experiments. . .was beyond them.
For several floors, they climbed, and climbed, and climbed. Around the 20th floor, it became apparent that they were closing in on whatever it was roaming around. You see, as they had climbed all those stairs the thudding would always seem just out of reach. Always a little ways ahead of them. Either they were being lured. . .or the creature. . .or whatever it was that they were following—
“Holy shit does that smell!” The Bear God exclaimed as he caught wind of the rancid odor that polluted the stairwell.
They carefully made their way up the stairs, noting the globs of green goo everywhere that gave off an acrid odor.
“My eyes, I swear they’re burning!” The Bear groaned.
“Why don’t you just use the goggles you have?” Rubricon replied, casually floating within his shield.
The bear slid the goggles down over his eyes, only to have the burning sensation worsen. “The goggles, they do nothing! Argh,” he yelled.”
Rubricon and Ben snickered as the angry bear thrashed himself against the walls, and stumbled over carcasses.
“It’s NOT funny,” he shouted.
“It is to us,” Rubricon chuckled.
“If only that Mutant Barbarian was here, he’d be pointing and laughing at you, going “derpy Bear God!” Ben added.
“You both are cuntwaffles,” The Bear God cried. “My fucking eyes are burning, and now there’s green shit in them! What the hell is this?!”
The rabbit-man and crab-lord laughed harder at their comrade. Then something caught their attention.
“Please! Help us!” Someone called out. The voice seemed like a Synth’s, muffled, but not too far off.
Rubricon’s ears twitched, trying to find a precise location.
“Yeah, use your damn sonar.” Sin growled.
“Look, if the smell is getting to you, why don’t you punch a hole in the wall and air the place out?” Rubricon asked.
The blind bear agreed. “You know. . .that’s not a bad idea. It still won’t solve the shit in my eyes though.”
Rubricon rolled his eyes. “I could conjure you some water. . .and flush out your eyes.”
Ben leaned in towards Rubricon. “You don’t mean to piss on him, do you?”
Rubricon grinned malevolently. “Now that you mention it. . .”
“Oh hell no. I’m blind, not deaf. The hole punching was a good idea, but fuck that. Fuck you both.” Sin growled, detesting the very idea.
“Alright, alright. . .” Rubricon chuckled. He waved his hands around, and a stream of water began to form out of the air. He then projected the water to beat against the Bear God’s eyes. “Be sure to blink and really flush them out.”
The Bear God sighed with relief. “Ah, so much better.”
After the brief cleansing ritual, the trio began to track the origin of the plea for help. One by one, they checked the rooms all along the hallway. Soon they came to the end of the hallway. They followed it to an opening—another lobby, or rather a makeshift one.
There were wooden desks strewn about, with piles of files, and bodies around. Globs of green goo decorated the carcasses, and the sacks that hung loosely from the ceiling.
“What. The. Hell.” Rubricon stared wide-eyed.
Sin examined the sacks. “There are people in those. . .things.”
Ben snickered. “Guys. . .they’re. . .sacks. You know, like testicles.”
“Really Ben?” Sin facepalmed.
Ben turned his eyes down. “I thought it was a good one. . .”
Sin sighed. “It was Ben. . .just not now.”
As the trio investigated the green sacks filled with people who slumbered. . .I guess they were slumbering. . .something. . .the call for help came once more.
Rubricon’s ears twitched and seemed to have locked onto a location. “It sounded like it was over here.”
They wandered over to a pile of rotting bodies. Super Mutants, Synths, humans, animals. . .anything imaginable really.
“That is a big pile of soggy meat. . .” Sin stated.
“Help. . .me. . .” The voice said, somewhere in the pile.
“It’s. . .coming from in there?”
“Closer. . .”
“Goodbye. . .”
In an instant, the massive pile of corpses spread to the corners of the room, with the green goo shooting in every direction with it. The trio was sent rolling across the floor. A red hulking figure stood at its center.
“Son of a bitch! It’s in my damn eyes again!” Sin yelled.
“Guys. . .I’ve fallen and I can’t get up,” Ben cried.
Rubricon looked the massive being over. “That is a big. . .”
The red hulk spoke eloquently, calm, collective. “Welcome to my humble abode, gentlemen. I trust you had an exciting journey climbing my tower?”
“What. . .the hell are you?” Rubricon inquired.
He gave a mile wide smile. “Ah, where are my manners. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Albrecht Wesker, or as I was dubbed, “Alpha-01, The Crimson Tyrant.” I am pleased to meet. . .your acquaintance.”
Sin went over to help Ben up, trying to rid the green goo that clouded his sight.
“Ah, I see you have a little. . .something of mine in your eyes. It’s just a mixture of ectoplasm. . .acid. . .and well. . .the last part is a little, ahem, inappropriate.” Wesker added.
“I swear—if you say that this is some jizz, or some shit, I’ll kick your ass all over this place!” Sin roared.
Wesker wagged his right index finger. “Ah, ah. . .temper, temper, sir. Also, mind your words, please. We are in the presence of many ladies. . .plus, you were half right on that.”
“What the hell is it?!”
Wesker chuckled. “Hmm. . .excrement. I’ll let you guess as to. . .what. . .exactly.”
“You son of a bitch!”
Wesker sighed, “I did warn you.”
Rubricon and Ben both nodded at one another, agreeing with the nude behemoth.
In a flash, the crimson beast had darted across the room and sent the Mighty Bear God crashing through a series of walls, down to the end of the hallway from which they had come.
Wesker clasped his hands together. “Now then. . .how do you wish to proceed?”
Ben clacked his claws. “I volunteer as tribute!”
“Splendid! I haven’t had lobster in quite some time. . .” Wesker grinned.