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Here is the successfully kickstarted comic book
ARCHIVE The WarHood Odyssey
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The earth was plunged into darkness.
Filled with smoke and ash and death.
There were no stars. The dark sky was a constant reminder that there would never be a sunrise.
The burned out smoking shells of buildings smelled of the dead and dying, disease and pestilence. The corporations that purchased and sold planet earth had little regard for the wellbeing of the populace.
That is, until he arrived, a powerful beacon of light, to lead the world into a new dawn.
Selenic had come to help and protect and lead.
The remaining humans that were abused, neglected and killed by the powerful companies that controlled the earth wanted to be saved.
Selenic gave them what they wanted.
Humans were weak, soft, fragile creatures. Selenic needed them to be more than this…
So they could be more than victims.
Era wakes with his face covered and his vision blurred. He knows that someone is speaking to him, but no one is there. He spins wildly trying to find his balance, the humming in his brain at first like the dull buzz of a mosquito was now becoming clearer.
“You are a vessel, you don’t have any control over this situation. Stop fighting and give up.” Says the voice in his mind.
“Shut up!” Era yells at no one.
His vision clears as he feels himself stop spinning, he raises his head and tries to figure out where he is. He reaches to his face, his hand is covered with a hard plastic glove, his fingers don’t feel familiar, his hand looks like some sort of misshapen claw. He runs the knife fingers of his right hand over his face, which is covered by what appears to be a plastic mask, no not plastic, hardened cartilage.
“This process will be easier for you if you stop trying to resist, close your eyes and I’ll continue with the task. You’re only going to get us killed.” Says the buzzing voice in his mind.
“What the hell is going on, where are you! Show yourself!” Era yells from behind the mask.
The pounding headache is like a drill being shoved into his eyes, his vision is red. No, his vision isn’t red, Era realizes he is looking through red tinted lenses, the mask on his face must cover his eyes with a transparent film.
“Where the hell am I, what’s that terrible smell? I’ve gotta get out of here.” Era says.
Era turn and looks at his hardened claw hands. There’s a sticky liquid dripping from the fingers, it appears to be a dark molasses. He smells copper and realizes he’s covered in blood.
“Oh god, I must be hurt. Where’s all this blood coming from. I don’t feel any pain, this must be a dream.” Era checks his body as best he can with his hardened cartilage claw hands.
“If you insist on being involved. You should probably start moving toward that light in the distance” Says the voice in his mind.
Era looks around and the darkness starts to form into shapes. Everything red and disconnected starting to blur into objects that he can make out. There’s a light in the distance, and there’s a body laying next to him, sliding around in it’s own blood and organs. It’s moaning, and Era sees that it’s scared to death of him.
“Oh god, what have you done.” Era says to the voice.
“What have we done Era, what have we done.” Says the voice.
Lock lifts his face out of the snow. The cold has cut through his leather trench coat, and his fingerless leather gloves are soaking wet. He pulls the scarf from his face and turns to the figure lying next to him partially covered by fresh snow except for her long black hair, delicate features and penetrating eyes.
“Hey, Tachi… remember that time we got pinned down by H.A.R.M.S., in sector 3, I thought that was gonna be our last mission.” Lock whispers as he slowly pulls the knife from his boot sheath. “That snow was twice as thick as this.” he mumbles.
Tachi says nothing as she slides her hand toward the handle of her katana, it’s blade reflecting the pale gray snow that has started to envelope all around them. Lock raises his hand, a silent language that they have formed over years of being on missions. Lock leans his head over the crest of the snow bank that they are hiding behind. The dark gray waste of nothing spreads out in front of them. Smoke and burning husks of buildings line the horizon. Lock scans the white nothing, looking for a sign that they avoided detection. The H.A.R.M. squad might have turned back, but probably not.
Tachi smells the air, and glances to her brother, Yari, who has buried himself even deeper in the cold grey snow. His dark eyes glare under the long black hair covering his face. Yari points to Tachi’s sword, she nods and slowly starts to grasp the handle of her katana again.
“Yari,” Lock whispers. Just barely loud enough to be heard over the blowing wind and falling snow. “Easy now.”
In the distance, barely visible in the low light, is a glimmer, a metallic glint. It could be snow, or debris, or fallout. No, Lock realizes it’s moving, slowly toward them. It’s about five hundred yards out.
“Shit, well, looks like they found us.” Says Lock. He pulls the collar of his black leather trench coat up around his neck. He exhales through the scarf over his mouth. “Guess we do this the hard way.” Lock whispers.
“The destruction of Placidity, one of the largest sectors of New Selenia, was the first domino to fall. The mutates have officially amassed an army capable of genocide in all of the sectors of New Selenia. At first they were a fringe element, located in the farthest corners of Old Selenia, but they have become more powerful and organized. Luckily for humanity, Selenic has vowed to destroy any threats that would prevent the peace and prosperity of humanity in New Selenia. All hail Selenic, one world under the moon!” Says the perky television anchor on a large monitor.
“Ya, we are so lucky. Can you turn that monitor off, I’m sick of hearing that propaganda bullshit.” A man in a blood smeared operating gown loudly whispers as he wipes the film of human filth off of his goggles. “New Selenia… how long are we going to be fed that line. Nobody has any idea what’s going on, keep people hungry and scared and you can pretty much do whatever you want.”
“You’re real tough when no one is watching Vason, put a couple H.A.R.M.S. in here and I bet you’ll beg to turn all the monitors up. Hail Selenic!” Says the other man who is also dressed in a filthy operating gown, smeared and dripping with various bodily fluids.
“Nosent, I’d tell Selenic himself… that he’s a bald alien tyrant from beyond the moon, to his face. You know what’s going on, ComLabs, Exocorp, Nutruli Systems, all of them are under The Moon, under Selenic. He pretends to care about humanity, but he’s making this war…” Vason stops suddenly, and looks around nervously. Realizing that there could be any number of spydroids listening from the vents. Vason calmly puts the goggles back on the operating mask, and puts the mask back on his face.
“Be careful, you start talking like that to the wrong people, and you’re gonna be a mutate too.” Nosent says as he smirks and reattaches his mask.
Nosent and Vason return their focus to their work. The dark cramped room where they operate is filled with rusting and broken equipment, pieces of brain and bone litter the floor, walls and ceiling. The smell is hot feces, formaldehyde and stale blood. There are bottles filled with half developed embryos of hybrid mutated creatures floating in green liquid. The light from the monitors glows pale green through the jars and lights the human animal faces that are frozen in time.
Nosent steps away in to the darkness to the far corner of the room. He returns pushing a cadaver on a gurney covered in a dirty sheet toward Vason. The squeaking of the small rubber wheels breaks the constant humming of the electronic equipment.
Vason pulls the overhead operating light down and flips it on, it reflects off the various metal knives and saws on a plastic school lunch tray next to him. Vason pulls back the sheet. The corpse on the table is pale, covered in scars and slippery from the fluids that have been pumped into him.
“This might be our best one yet, just when you think you can’t make a better monster, bam!” Says Vason
“This one isn’t one of ours.” Says Nosent
“Are you sure? We haven’t put this one together?” Says Vason “They all start to blur.”
“I thought that you scheduled this one.” Says Nosent as he inspects the body lying on the operating table. “Well, I guess we just need to put on the hazard equipment, wipe it and send it down the line…” Nosent suddenly stops and realizes that something is moving below the operating table.
A pale gray cloud starts to slowly crawl over the floor of the room, covering the sticky tile and rising up the pant legs of the two men. The monitors on the walls start to flicker and buzz.
“Hey, where’s that smoke coming from, is there a leak in one of the tanks?” Says Vason, as the corpse on the table starts to twitch.