Eyes of Vengeance

Every morning, the Ghost would patrol the town, keep those how called it home safe. When they arrived, they found him covered in blood and in his hand, he was holding a bloody sledgehammer. Most of the people in Ottawa now were survivors of the bombs. Up until this point, the Ghost had been cut off from all forms of communication, that was true until he received a job from the barkeep.

"Ghost, normally I wouldn't ask anything of you, but this job requires your sense of brutality."

"What do you need?"

"There's an old military radio outpost about 17 miles outside of town, I have received a tip that there are raiders holding slaves and prisoners. I suggest you make an example out of them."

"Consider it done."

Just as he always had, the Ghost paid his tab, then made his way to the outpost. Except for today, today was the day he'd get vengeance for what had happened so long ago.

About an hour had passed and the Outpost was now in sight. The Ghost growled under his breath as he plunged a knife into a raiders neck.

"Aye you two, go check that out." barked the Raider Overboss

When the two raiders got outside, they were horrified to find the Ghost of Ottawa marching towards them, fresh blood dripping off of his sledgehammer.

"Anyone who preys upon the weak truly is beneath that of a cockroach. Consider my feet justice, and I'm going to love walking all over you."

Neither raider stood a chance.

"What's going on out there?"

"Boss, it's like the fucking angel of freaking death landed outside. It's killed most of our men!"

"Let me see him."

"SO THIS is the man who preys upon the weak. Truly you must be a demented soul to believe you could live so close to me and expect to live."

"I recognize you, didn't you defend that girl I eventually..."

"You...YOU"

Words couldn't leave the Ghost's mouth, his body was burning with rage. His sledgehammer said everything that veil man needed to hear. Amongst the prisoners, there were people who tried to break the Ghost long before the bombs and Lots. They finally got to bear witness to what monster they'd create. A man dedicated to correcting and erasing the morons who decided to prey upon the weak, torture those who had no strength.

The raider overboss tried to crawl away, but much to the prisoners delight, his was bludgeoned to death by the very same man who he'd underestimated years ago.

"We're cool now right Ghost?" asked a foolish raider

"I'm going to say this nice and slow for you. GET.OUT.OF.MY.CITY!"

The raider looked into the eyes of the Ghost only seeing an insatiable need for blood.

"I'm sorry okay?"

"You're sorry? Now? After seeing me remove this waste of oxygen from this earth. No, you don't get to be sorry. Wander into the wasteland and fucking die knowing I beat you."

The prisoner watched the Ghost enter the facility and free the prisoners.

"Look i didn't mean what i said back then!"

"You were my friend, and you betrayed me, hurt, tossed me aside like I was garbage. No, you meant it because I wasn't cool enough to be among your possie, no get the fuck out of Ottawa, or I'll add you to my kill count."

The raider ran off, leaving the Ghost alone in the radio room. That's when he snapped, smashing all sorts of computers and equipment. When he'd finally calmed down, his knuckles were bloody and bruised. Then a crackle of static broke through his labored breathing.

"This is the Lots Marauder calling on any open channel, is anyone out there?"

With the microphone broken, he used a skill he'd taught himself, Morse Code.

With his reply, he left the station he headed back into town where the barkeep greeted him.

"I take it the mission is completed."

"Yes, but I will be leaving, there are people I need to find far away from here."

"LEAVE??!! Who will defend us?"

"You my legend, you'll be fine."

"But your airplane is still damaged."

"I'll be pulling it with my Bronco, now stop trying to convince me to stay, this town is bad for me."

Just as quickly he'd returned, he left for Florida, attempting to regroup with his old friends.