Just you against the world.

It was a quiet afternoon in the wasteland. Clouds drifted lazily overhead, casting rolling shadows over the barren terrain. The wind howled eerily through the rusted frames of the old world's empty cars on the old world's empty roads. It was easy to feel alone in a place like this. You could wander for days and never see another living person. Corpses however, were in abundance. There were people still left in the world, this was true, settlements and cities built in the hollow remains of what once was a thriving civilization. Once you entered the wasteland though, all those illusions of civilization disappeared. Men tear each other apart out here... A wise man once warned him, Sometimes for no reason other than to show that they can. After a time it feels like everyone is out to get you, even the people you trust. Just you against the world...

Just me against the world... The thought kept running through his head like a mantra. The last few years had been particularly hard on him. He would think he hit bottom only to find he had further still to fall. There were times he couldn't even remember, black spots in his memory that haunted him in his sleep. At his lowest point he was wild, a vicious, drug fueled attack dog caked in mud and blood and god only knows what else. Then everyone died. Everyone except him. She found him in a pool of his own blood, frightened, disoriented, and barely conscious. Why she saved him he still couldn't understand. The best explanation he could come up with was that she was completely out of her mind.

She walked ahead of him now, sashaying down the middle of an abandoned highway, navigating the rubble in the street as gracefully as a dancer navigates the stage. She was of medium height and build, with long, crudely cut black hair, held partially back from her face by a filthy red bandanna. She had taken her leather jacket off and tied it around her waist, but left the shoulder pads on over her stained wife beater. A hunting rifle was strapped to her back and a pistol hung at her hip, along with a vast and varied assortment of knives scattered across her person and a waist bag full of grenades. At first he thought she was too small for her arsenal, just a delusional little girl with dreams of war. Their first few hostile encounters taught him otherwise. She was a ruthless combatant, appearing to attack with reckless abandon yet dispatching her enemies with surprising efficiency. She was good at what she did, and worse, she enjoyed it.

He trudged reluctantly along behind her, the portrait of untapped potential. He was tall but slouched, broad of shoulder yet lean, drained by the years of scavenging and scrounging and struggling to go on. Ungainly he may have been but that did not mean he was clumsy and if there was anything you could say he was good at, it was keeping quiet. His shaggy brown hair hung to cover his hazel eyes, forming the veil through which he silently watched the world. He learned to read people, decipher their tells until he knew what they were thinking, even if they didn't. Until he met her that was. She was different somehow, she didn't seem to follow the usual social protocol, what little there was left of one in a post apocalyptic wasteland. He never knew what she was thinking and as much as he hated her most of the time, he found her fascinating.

So he followed her, he followed her because he wanted to and definitely not because he was being led around on an invisible leash attached to the explosive collar she had outfitted him with.

There was a number engraved in the collar, the number had become his name. She stripped him of his identity, not that he really had much of one to begin with.

"Psst! Four, c'mere!" She stood by a guard rail, motioning him over with one hand. Tendrils of dark hair hung to frame her face, as she smiled broadly at him, excitement dancing in her eyes. Those eyes... So dark they were almost black, always full of wonder and delight.

In a way he was almost grateful... He may have been with her against his will, but it was better here than being dead and with the psycho out of his system his mind was returning to him. Just me against the world... Me... and her?

He came up beside her, giving her a quizzical smirk. Even slouching he found he had a good 3 inches on her. She pointed down the slope on the other side of the rail, an eager squeak escaping her clenched lips. He followed the line of her finger, his eyes falling on a stunted bush in front of a large brown rock... Wait that isn't a rock... Ugh that smell... Oh fuck. His stomach twisted as he stared horrified at the yao guai sleeping not 10ft away.

If we're quiet... She was still smiling like a maniac when he turned back to her, sending a chill up his spine. He nodded towards the other side of the road but she shook her head. With an impatient sigh he reached for her arm but she pulled away, holding up a large chuck of asphalt in her other hand and poorly withholding a giggle.

His eyes widened and snapped back to the sleeping mutant bear before returning to her, "Calico..." He kept his voice at a hoarse whisper.

"Heeugh!" Her arm snapped forward, launching the chunk of road at the massive beast with honed accuracy. The asphalt sailed through the air, striking it's target right in it's swollen, pus dripping eye. The bear roared furiously, thrashing it's head and rubbing it's eye with one huge claw tipped paw.

Four's jaw dropped and for a moment he was completely unable to process what had just taken place. He turned to Calico who only smiled at him and laughed maniacally. Another enraged roar snapped him from his stupor, "Why would you DO that?!"

She only cackled again, turning to the road and sprinting off through the obstacle course of cars.

Oh fuck do I ever hate her. Four took off after his captor, the sound of furious snarls and the loose, roadside earth being ripped up behind him spurring him on.