Announcing a New Limited Mini-series Project: Teaser

A new limited miniseries in the form of blog posts following Detectives Dana Deupree and Walter Conway from the urban fantasy novel, “Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle” as they investigate a series of bizarre murders and events at the Massachusettes State Maximum Security Prison at the request of the Warden; seeing as the duo was responsible for leading to William “Wild Bill” Moseley’s capture.

Hey, folks.

It’s the start of something new and I wanted to share it with you all. What is it? Why, it’s a new, very limited mini-series project based in the same universe where Lilah, Dana, Walter, Lynaly and others all dwell within.

While this might not follow the details of demons and the supernatural, this particular tale will follow one man’s demons that dwell within.

Starting off, Dana has a confrontation with a man who has committed many atrocities against society. Dismemberment, killing, raping, savagely beating people; men, women, children, and a slew of other violent crimes. William “Wild Bill” Moseley is perceived as pure evil incarnate.

Bill is kept in a state maximum prison outside of New Boston, MA. With the man being captured and having been brought to justice, it seems the public can rest easy. His death sentence made, all the evidence in order… what could go wrong?

Detectives Dana Deupree and Walter Conway are called in to investigate the strange mishaps that have befallen the prison as a favor by the Warden. All the signs point to Bill being responsible for the oddities that have taken place: dead inmates who have hung themselves with their insides, eyes gouged out and replaced with their testicles, and many other heinous acts.

Will the detectives solve the case of the strange and bizarre, or will they wind up as just another statistic?

Here’s a small teaser…


Start Teaser

“They say I am the way I am because of some tumor… some natural defect. I am not defective. I was engineered by nature to kill. I brought balance; I was the Equalizer.” Bill cracked a grin.

“Ah… They all looked so wonderful when the light went out in their eyes. Have you ever seen that, detective? The light fade in someone’s eyes?” His grin became a malicious, salivating all out ice cream smile, drool running down the right corner of his mouth and chin.

Dana swallowed a number of words he wanted to say in regards to the man’s acts. He cleared his throat, “Do you have anything to do with the random killings and events that have transpired here, Bill?”

Bill sat there with that stupid grin and drool on his face, his gaze lost in his sweet, sweet memories.

Dana snapped his fingers in front of Bill’s face. “Did you kill those inmates and guards, Bill?”

Bill slowly cocked his head to the side and then jerked his head hard, a loud snap could be heard within the room, sending a shiver up and down Dana’s spine. “How long do you think you’ll be staying at my hotel, detective?”

Dana raised an eyebrow, “Excuse me?”

“I wager you won’t last here a night,” Bill grinned. “Though, I suppose I wouldn’t want to k—” he stopped himself from finishing.

“Wouldn’t want to what, Bill?” asked Dana.

“Why, I wouldn’t want to let my biggest fan die off in the first episode, detective…” he grinned that toothy grin again and gave a wheezing laugh. Then all emotion had left. He became blank faced. “I can’t say much for your friend, though. Are you sure you should have let him wander off on his own… Dana?”

End Teaser


Don’t worry, folks! There will be more to come!

Until next time,

RJM

New Excerpt From Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle!

What follows is the latest excerpt from the upcoming urban fantasy novel, Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle by Robert J. S. T. McCartney and Albert J. Debusschere III.


The light of the day had already been extinguished. Elsewhere, plans had begun to set into motion, the turning of the gears of archaic proportions, the ushering of the liaison of destruction. Death was busy, unusually busy for this time. The old, dilapidated warehouse of scrap metal and wood of the shipyard was quite bright for this time of the night. The moon bled above the yellowed city lights. The stars cried—icy streaks, in the abysmal sheet of darkness—in unison of the celestial act that forebode of what carried on below.

Inside the vast shell of a building, windows were boarded up. Debris and trash littered the ground all over. Assorted holes punctured the roof, letting a peak of what transpired within. A man was busy, occupied with the disposition of the latest interloper.

The swarm of the stifling cold had long already wrapped itself around his body, constricting him like an invisible serpent. He awoke and found himself bound to the wall, stretched limb and limb about a makeshift cross that was made of scraps of metal and wood. His mouth stuffed with sweaty rags, mixed with only God knew what. He was soaking wet, but he couldn’t quite make out whether it was from his blood, sweat, or from the water. Before him stood a vague shadow of a man, cockeyed, peering back with a set of raging, bright-red eyes. The eyes shifted sluggishly around the room, searching for answers from this. . .intruder. Behind the vengeful wraith, laid the twisted and mangled tall body of a man bathing in a pool of crimson.

The shade spoke deep with assurance. “There is no one else here, just us. Well, except for your partner, but I wouldn’t exactly be counting on any back up.” The silhouette shrugged, “You know how it is—collateral damage.”

His head refused to budge, causing his body to jerk with fear, his nose catching the hint of gasoline. The dark shade materialized at long last. The raging redness of its eyes settled to a cool deep blue, a face of easiness and of peace.

The now, appearing gentle man spoke, waving his hand over his hostage’s face. “Calm yourself.”

A cloud of serenity came over the prisoner. He made out the elegance of his captor that was so bewildering. A dark oak tribal mask fell to the floor with a light thud, seemingly like a drop of rain on the surface of a pond. The man had long black hair that was matted and mangy. He noted his square broad face. . .of torment and pain—of scars and wounds: past, present, and foretold of future ones—this was a traitor.

The nomadic man turned his back to the ‘crucified’ man. “I tire of your persistent meddling. No longer, will you be following anyone around, sticking your bothersome nose in matters that are far beyond what your pathetic, frail mind can comprehend.” He turned to face his victim. “Oh no.” He grinned fiercely, then burst into a gleeful sinister laugh, “NOT ANYMORE!” He closed his eyes and sniffed the air. “There are some big plans that are unfurling now, but you already know that; and there is NOTHING. . .nothing. . .you or anyone can do about it.” He grasped the man’s throat and peered deep into the frightened, green eyes. “Any last words. . .detective?” The man shook violently, trying to writhe himself free, grunting with empty pleas. The vagabond leaned toward the grunting man, whispering into his ear. “I’ll be sure to say hello to them for you, but don’t worry—they won’t be too far behind.”

The nomad plunged the blade into the man’s gut—grinning with a wink. The starving knife’s teeth clawed and pulled at the insides. The blade was jerked up in the man’s abdomen in a smooth transition, carving the hapless fool—over to the right—then at last, in a downward angle. The man coughed for a moment, choking on his own blood. He let loose a low mutter and groan, following the rush of blood that crudely mimicked a waterfall that trickled down onto the floor, along with the rest of his liveliness. As the savage nomad turned to walk away from his latest kill, a whisper from someone long ago caught his ear as he lit a match. No matter how many times you keep telling yourself you won’t. You will die. She still lives and this time—she will see to it. Oh yes, it will be all the sweeter—your death! [The match slowly fell to the ground, igniting the stew of blood, gasoline, and waste] Yes, this time, the true traitor will be the betrayed! [The flames rushed with hunger up the base of the cross, devouring the man’s feet, legs, and torso] Killing the ‘fodder’, as you say, will only fuel the fire that awaits you in Hell! The voice trailed off into a maniacal laughter, as the husk of a man on the cross was engulfed in flames.

The unnerved wanderer picked up his mask and placed it over his face, the chin and lips still exposed, and specks of blood on it. He grinned to himself and closed his eyes, and inhaled deep. The air began to rage hellishly behind him, as he still lost in the thought as he licked his lips. “Hmm, well, I can’t wait to see her . . .try.”


First Excerpt

Look for Lilah’s Guide to Hoyle, coming soon!

Note: Excerpts are not of the final rendition. Check out the final release!

Dust in the Wind

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God Logo


[Missed the last posts of The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God?

Click here -> Uno! Dos! Tres! Cuatro! Cinco! Seis! <- ]


Last time on The Diary of the Wasteland Bear God! Ben showed off his newly acquired battle prowess and knocked the ever-loving shit out of Albrecht, The Crimson Tyrant. After using his wannabe Pokemon-but-it’s-not-Pokemon attack, Albrecht was sent crashing into several buildings, leading the trio to believe the fight was over. However, Albrecht is now super massive, hulking, and towering over them. . .and the building in which they stand upon. Find out what happens today, on —


 

“You tarry on for far too long, Maker! Shut your mouth and let the fools do battle with me!” Wesker bellowed.

“Fine,” the Maker replied, “but you’re going to get your ass handed to you, and Ben will make good on his promise.”

The Crimson Tyrant laughed hysterically. “How could a pitiful, small, weak sack of flesh hope to defeat me? I am unstoppable!”

“Well, considering I already know the outcome. . .I think I’d know. . .and I am a betting man. But fuck it, what do I know?” The Maker then could be heard wandering off mumbling about incompetence and other shenanigans.

“Bear witness to my power, mortals!” Wesker bellowed once again.

The sky turned into a kaleidoscope of red, black, and yellow. Lightning shot in various directions, while the thunder rolled ferociously throughout the heavens. The sun was soon blotted out completely by the hulking crimson humongoid.

“If all you can do is play with the weather and get big. . .well. . .that’s not quite a feat.” The Bear God remarked smugly.

“Yes, yes, keep your facade of an act up, Bear God. You will meet your end the same way all the others have before. The era of The Bear God is at an end. This—this is the beginning of a new era—The Crimson Tyrant!” Wesker laughed manically as his hands reached towards the heavens.

The ground shook violently beneath the trio. Buildings crumbled, while the ground split open spewing the oppressed air of the old days that had been trapped underneath. Rubricon took note of this smell. . .

“What the hell died down there?”

“Oh, did you not know? This is a mass grave. . .several million poor saps that poured their efforts and wasted money in protecting their pathetic lives in those ‘vaults’ you believed would save your lives. Ah, how silly mankind is. . . Killing one another for a purse, a car, a hot dog. . .squabbling over spilled milk, blowing up one another over religious and political views. You are no better than a pack of wild dogs; however, that pack of wild dogs at least has order. Ah, but I digress. Allow me to introduce you to the populous in which you stand upon!”

Wesker focused his energy in reviving the long rotting dead. Groups of skeletons, corpses, and the dismembered rose from their horrible grave and climbed to the desolate city streets.

“Oh hey, a Zombie Apocalypse. Great. What I always wanted!” The Bear God smiled ear to ear.

“Yes, yes, smile all you want. . .for they will be your undoing! They will tear you to pieces and feast on your flesh. Then. . .after they are done with you and your friends, they will consume this wasteland and I will then raise everyone to do my bidding!” Wesker laughed maniacally as he finished telling his tale for world domination.

Before and all around them were millions of corpses. The odds were definitely not in their favor but they all knew how to deal with the undead.

“Go for the head! If you think you’ve killed one, make sure to go for the head again. Double tap for the win!” Sin bellowed as he began his onslaught.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. . .” Rubricon sighed.

Ben smiled to himself. He had millions to kill and this. . .this pleased him.

After some time of purging the undead and dwindling the numbers significantly, the trio began to show signs of fatigue. Wesker also had a surprise for them. . .

“Whew! You’d think that will all the shit we’ve unloaded on them there would be less by now.” Sin remarked.

“What’s the matter? Getting tired?” Wesker inquired. “I am just getting started!”

All the undead that were killed off began to reanimate, leaving the Bear God to curse in a long, long, long curse.

“Ah ah, my furry fellow. Strategy is the most important in overcoming your opponent. You should have figured this out some time ago.” The Crimson Tyrant wagged his right index finger.

“You are really, really starting to piss me off!” Sin yelled.

Again the trio began their slaughter of the undead. This time though they made sure to use more. . .efficient methods of destroying the zombies—

“We’re not using the z-ed word!”

. . .

They made sure to use more efficient methods in eradicating the walking dead. . .by vaporizing them with their energy attacks, massive bombings, and other fun ways of dispatching things that I am going to not go in to detail about because The Bear God ruined my moment of using ZOMBIES one fucking time.

“Go cry about it somewhere else! We’re a little busy here! Unlike you, you asshat!” The Bear God yelled.

“OK, you know what? How about I take away your plot armor? Let this cuntwaffle win and just say screw it? Huh?” The Maker yelled back.

“I’m fine with that.” Wesker replied.

“You shut your whore mouth!” The Maker quipped back.

Wesker’s gaze fell sadly to the ground.

“Sin, maybe you should apologize. We still aren’t even through the first season and there’s a lot of shit that we need to get done.” Rubricon added.

Sin sighed, “Fine.” He looked up towards the dark sky. ‘I am sorry.” He then spat on the ground.

There was a moment of silence. . .well, enough between the grunts, groans and killing of the undead. “Good enough. Go get ’em tiger.” The Maker replied.

The Crimson Tyrant then began a long-winded speech. “You insignificant wretched maggots! I will grind you into dust! I will put you in places you have never even thought possible! I will do things to your bodies that you thought only happened in prison movies. . .and prison! Your asses will be mine! Your souls will be mine!”

“Nope!” Ben dashed through the air and headed square for the red hulk.

One after the other, Ben assaulted the red beast with different variant water strikes: beams, geysers, jets, deluge, ice, bubbles, etc.

The Crimson Tyrant looked stunned and staggered. Ben readied for a surprise for Wesker. He hovered before the red beast and stretched his arms out far to his sides. Every inch of Albrecht’s body became encased in the massive bubble that formed around him.

“What is this? WHAT IS THIS!?” Wesker bellowed in disbelief.

Ben spoke calm and collective. “Remember when I said I would tear out your soul?”

Wesker began levitating in the air. Soon enough, he was high above the trio. His body began to convulse. Bones cracked, limbs moved in ways that were unnatural. And then. . .it happened. A green translucent image of the Crimson Tyrant was separated from his body—his soul. The lifeless body came crashing to the ground, swallowed wholly by the massive crevasse.

“What?! No!”

Ben then drew the soul to his mouth where he began to floss with it. An astounding sight really. Despite the new Ghoulish-Mirelurk Ben. . .his teeth were already quite clean. But it was a point he was making. He then swallowed Albrecht’s soul wholly. His eyes flickered a crimson haze, and he let loose a maniacal laugh. . .and then it subsided.

All the undead dropped back to their lifeless selves and were then swallowed up by the ground. The weather went back to normal, with the sun shining brilliantly. Everything went back to normal. . .

Rubricon and Sin clapped at the display of awesomeness that Ben had done.

“Great job, Ben! Well done.”

The building started to shake and rumble. It was starting to collapse.

“That’s cool and all, but since this place is going down, we need to get the shit we came for and leave. Now!” Rubricon stated.

The trio began to scan for the item that would be able to revert Rubricon to his human form. After a brief search they found it and set out to drag the “egg people” out. Behind them the building collapsed and dust billowed. One by one, the egg sacks were broken and those that were still alive were reunited with their appropriate faction. Cheers from the diverse coalition of factions were heard for miles.

A Brotherhood of Aluminum soldier spoke to the trio. “We saw the whole thing. We are truly in awe of your battle prowess and dedication to bettering the Wasteland. I believe I speak for everyone here when I say. . .thank you. Thank you, Bear God. Keep anything you came across. We’ve all grown in this time spent here. We’ve all come to share a same commonality. . .and we all seek the same goal; peace. We will venture the Wasteland and preach on your behalf, and hope that the warring factions can see the futility that is presently staked. . .rooted in our common cores, and that it will be replenished with the ideals of rebuilding this land for us all.”

The trio all looked at one another. “Uh. . .OK.” Sin said.

The group began to disband, with some shaking hands and giving one another pats on the back. As they all left and were a fair distance from the trip the most random thing happened. . .

A series of explosions erupted from all the different groups. They were all dead.

“Well then. . .that didn’t last long.” The Bear God remarked.

Rubricon examined the DNA modifier. “Guess it’s time to bring sexy back.”

Ben snickered.

“Quiet, freak! I was a glorious model worthy man. . .” Rubricon added.

“It’s true. He was a boss.” Sin also added.

After applying the modifier, Rubricon stood unchanged. “Did it work?”

“Maybe you need to do a little dance?” Sin questioned.

“I dunno. . .I. . .I. . .oh! It’s coming!” Rubricon started to convulse and grunted in pain.

“Are you taking a shit or. . .” Ben remarked.

After a few moments and a flash of blinding light, there emerged a newly formed Rubricon.

He had fair skin, his bright blue eyes sparkled under the sun. His hair was medium length—silver—and tied back tightly. He still wore his brown leather duster and black leather outfit, etc.

“I am. . .renewed!” He cried happily!

“Not quite. . .” Sin held up a mirror.

“What the—no, no!” Rubricon stammered.

He saw it. He didn’t believe it but he saw it. In the reflection was a pair of ears that stood partially erect. “Mother f—!”

The Diary of the Wasteland Bear God!

 

 

Don’t Stop. . .Believing.

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God Logo


[Missed the last posts of The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God?

Click here -> Uno! Dos! Tres! Cuatro! Cinco! <- ]


For a few moments Albrecht and Ben only stared at each other. One-eyed the other, studying for weaknesses, their talents, their strengths, their—

“Oh for fuck’s sake. Are you guys going to lollygag and eye fuck each other, or are you going to get this show rolling? I could be finding my kid and wife. You know, the main quest I’m on?” The Bear God remarked.

“Your furry friend does have a point. I suppose we should end this charade of ours,” Albrecht added.

“By all means, go ahead, take the lead,” Ben replied.

Albrecht grinned fiercely. “That mistake shall be your undoing!”

In a speedy blur, Albrecht began his onslaught on the newly reformed Ben. His vicious attacks were sound and landed perfectly square on the Mirelurk-Ghoul hybrid’s face. For a moment, Albrecht halted his attacks to see how he was fairing against the former Mirelurk, having exploited his weakness last time. Ben cracked his neck and stared up at the Crimson Tyrant.

“Is that all?” Ben quipped.

“Grr, you half-pint filth!”Albrecht growled.

He resumed his series of attacks against Ben, this time flailing him about like a rag doll, and then hurling him up into the air, just to smack him back down. Ben’s body made an imprint on the concrete roof.

Meanwhile, as the two monstrosities fought, Sin conversed with Rubricon. “I think we should call him ‘Pretty-Boy Ben.’ What do you think?”

“Meh, doesn’t seem fitting that much. Maybe ‘Fuck Ugly Ben.’ That could work I think.” Rubricon added.

The Bear God stroked his furry beard. “I don’t know. In that sense, though we’d just call him that from the get go.”

“How about—”

“How about you all DIE!” Albrecht roared, hurling a massive red energy attack at the “innocent” bystanders.

Both of them cursed at the rude gesture, which they shrugged off as nothing.

“Whoa, whoa there, Sparky. We weren’t talking to you or about you.”

“Yeah, why don’t you go suck the barrel of a shotgun until it explodes against the back of your throat.”

“Your friends are quite incessant with their babbling; in that regard, I respect your silence, half-pint.” Albrecht complimented a grunting Ben as he dragged his face across the rooftop.

“What’s that? I’m sorry, I can’t hear you with your mouth full.” Albrecht chuckled. Now then, be a good lad and STAY DEAD!”

In a swift motion, Albrecht backhanded Ben off the roof, sending him crashing through several buildings until he came to a stop being embedded in one.

He gathered himself and dusted himself off. He looked across the way for Albrecht and locked on to his target. “My turn,” he said with a grin.

Unseen to the naked eye, Ben danced through the air with his inherited Disco dancing powers. He unleashed his own barrage of attacks, ones that were devastating to Albrecht. Each one more painful than the last, and each one brought down the life force of the Crimson Tyrant. Ben uppercutted Albrecht into the air and decided to show off a newly acquired skill. An azure light gathered around the claw as it opened wide, bubbles furiously gathered until a huge globule of water manifested. He aimed it high at the red hulk and fired it. The bubble water beam streaked high into the sky as it made contact with Albrecht, and sent him crashing through several buildings.

“Really? Did—did I just witness a bubble beam attack?” Sin remarked, questioning many things in his mind.

“Yes, I believe we just did,” Rubricon added, with a sigh.

“But it gets the job done. . . Now if only I had some vinegar, we could have had a douche ray,” Ben quipped.

The Bear God facepalmed while Rubricon had a laugh.

“I’ll admit it, that was a good one. At least we can be done here though.” Rubricon added.

There was no sign of Albrecht or anything that could give away some sort of hint that he was could be. . .maybe. . .probably. . .be still alive.

They waited for a few moments.

“Alright, I think we waited long enough. I say we go grab what we came for, get back downstairs, and get the hell out of this mess. Plus I am getting pretty hungry. . .and I could use a drink,” Sin stated.

“Fair enough, I think we can celebrate this as a victory,” Rubricon added, giving Ben a pat on the back. “Although, I don’t think I can ever think of you as the same. You’re so fucking weird to look at now.”

“You’ll most likely see a lot of changes but you’ll get used to them though,” Ben replied.

“You’re also more. . .serious. I wonder though, is it. . .too serious?” Rubricon inquired.

Ben smirked. “Does it count as rape if your one hand holds down the other, or is it consensual?”

“What. The. Fuck?” Rubricon said before starting to laugh.

“Great, now we have a philosophical killing machine that looks fuck ugly, and has a claw. . .just what we needed.” Sin sighed aloud.

As the trio began to start their trek back into the building to retrieve the last pieces of information regarding the viruses, rabbit cure, and (if any were still alive) the hostages, there was a loud rumble that shook the ground and the buildings around them.

Behind them, a figure blotted out the sun and cast his shadow over the trio. “Pitiful insects! I shall crush you underfoot!”

Sin sighed as he looked up at the now massive Albrecht. “Well, Ben. . .I guess you have your work cut out for you.”

Ben shrugged. “I’ve got all the time in the world to spare.”

“Well, go get ’em, tiger,” Rubricon motioned at Ben.

Evil May Be Able to Evolve. . .But So Can I.

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God Logo


[Missed the last posts of The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God?

Click here -> Uno! Dos! Tres! Cuatro! <- ]


As Ben unleashed his anger upon Wesker, the “Crimson Tyrant,” he had become so blinded with rage that he couldn’t see he was bleeding out from within. He was dying, yes, but only being kept alive by the rage that lived within. He levitated in the air while controlling the raging winds, thunder, and lightning with his claws.

The Wasteland Bear God knew his Mirelurk companion was failing, and fast, however, to step in now would probably piss the Lord Mirelurk off incredibly.

He cracked a grin at the thought. “Alright, Ben, playtime’s over! It’s my turn!”

The winds howled louder and started to push the Bear God and Rubricon off the roof.

“I said he’s mine!” Ben roared, furious, and the skies let loose a roll of thunder, and a tremendous bolt of lightning that struck the Crimson Tyrant.

With all the wind and debris, it was near impossible to see what was exactly going on in the eye of the storm, except that hopefully, Wesker would be dead soon, and they could maybe. . .move on to bigger things.

The moment of pondering came to an end, when Wesker erupted to where Ben was. Newly applied scars littered the brute’s body.

Albrecht yelled at the top of his lungs, “This has been all so very cute, my little lobster friend, however, this is your end!”

With a swift backhand to his face, Ben was sent crashing through the roof of the genetics building, down to the lobby on the ground floor. The Bear God’s Herald laid motionless. The rest of his life was knocked out.

Wesker smacked his lips hungrily. “I will rather enjoy devouring him. I don’t even have to get a pot boiling!”

“We’re still here, you know,” The Bear God commented.

“Oh, yes, yes, where are my manners. My apologies, gentlemen. I just got lost in the moment. I am sure you know how it is.” Wesker replied apologetically. “Your friend tried so hard. . .what a shame. Well, no sense in mourning his loss, for you two will be next!”

The last standing duo readied themselves for a battle of their wits, skills, and for their lives.

“I wouldn’t count on us being pushovers just yet, bud.” Rubricon stated.

Wesker grinned wickedly. “No, no, of course not. I expect you both to go all out and have a proper beat down.”

“Let’s get this going, because I do have a laundry list of shit to do.” The Bear God commented.

“Eager to die I see. Very well, you can go first, but first. . .let me show you gentlemen what’s in store.” Wesker replied.

The crimson brute hunched himself over and clung to his sides—thick leathery wings sprouted, while a set of horns erupted from his forehead, each longer than one another, and each one more pointy than the other.

“Please don’t say, “me so horny.” Sin commented.

“Oh, don’t worry. . .I am not even finished. . .” Wesker replied casually with a grin.

Next, a long tail erupted from behind him, its end adorned with spikes.

“Now?” Sin asked.

“Not yet. . .” Wesker grunted.

“How long is this going to take? Please don’t say several episodes. . .” Sin sighed.

After several moments of ‘changes’, the Crimson Tyrant stood before the mighty duo. He grew several feet more, had more razor-sharp claws on his hands, and elbows, while his feet seemed to mimic a Deathclaws.

“I have to say, that was the most boring transformation I’ve ever seen. Wouldn’t you agree, Rubricon?” Sin commented.

“I would have to. . .I mean, when we fought that one time was even better.” Rubricon added.

Wesker’s face had a serious look on it. “Enough! I will kill you both, devour you and your pathetic crab friend, and then go out into the Wasteland and devour the rest of its denizens.”

“Uh oh, I guess Al here is getting upset with us. Look, pal, if you need to talk about some issues you’re having getting it up. . .” The Bear God verbally attacked the red brute.

“I am not your pal, bud.”

“Well, I ain’t your bud, bro.”

“I’m not your bro, friend.”

“I’m not your friend, Steve.”

“MY NAME IS ALBRECHT!” Wesker roared furiously.

“Ooh, I think we hit a nerve here, Rubricon! Watch out! We got a badass over here!” The Bear God chuckled.

Unbeknownst to them, far below, there had been a transformation taking place. Ben no longer was the Mirelurk he once was. . .

You could hear a whistling sound fast approaching the rooftop, as if something was coming. . .

“I said, that asshole was MINE!” Ben roared, uppercutting the crimson beast in the jaw.

“Holy. . .shit! What happened to you, Ben?” The Bear God looked at his former crab. . .comrade.

Ben stood before them now. He was no longer the Mirelurk he once was. He was a hybrid of a Ghoul and Mirelurk, with his right arm as a mighty claw. He was above average than a typical man would be, by smaller in stature than his mighty Mirelurk form. His back was blackened, tough, and it came to wrap around his head—a new shell, if you will. No longer did he have the eyes of a Mirelurk, he had the black eyes of a Ghoul. To all of them on the rooftop. . .he was fuck ugly. . .almost as bad as Wesker was at first, or any other Ghoul they had encountered.

“I’ve evolved,” he said.

“The fuck is this? Pokemon now?” Sin inquired.

“Nope. It’s just how I work. You’ll see more, in time.” Ben replied.

He turned his gaze to Wesker, “As for you. . .I told you I was gonna tear your soul out. . .I mean to see to it.”

Wesker grinned malevolently. “I can’t wait to see you try, small fry.”

My Mirelurk Can Beat You With No Pants

[Missed the last posts? Uno! Dos!]


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 on to 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. . .”

“Hello?”

“Goodbye. . .”

“Huh?”

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.

The Uh Ohs About Our Boys and GMOs

The Diary of The Wasteland Bear God Logo

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!”