It was a cloudy day at Firehawk Base and that meant that there would be little to do.
Not that Isaak knew that. though.
The deep purple storm clouds above the fortified military complex were a sign of a calamity that was soon to wash over the barren desert. They were the but a curtain for God's Wrath, that which judged those who dared to trespass into Eden for their own selfish interests...
But for Isaak, it was just another day in the monotonous purgatory that was his new reality.
His life had been rather uneventful ever since he joined the Peacekeeper Corps, the Federation's official army.
In the remains of his former native state, California, Firehawk Base was just one of several dozen lonely outposts in the unforgiving wasteland, far away from civilization...
Not that the United States of America existed anymore, much less the state of California.
It was just called "District-02" nowadays and it had three major subdivisions to speak of, split up between the leftovers of what once were the nations of Canada and Mexico.
Though he wasn't a bleeding patriot at heart, it still hurt to learn that his entire country had been relegated to such a miserable fate. Its history, culture, and landmarks had all gone the way of the mighty dinosaurs.
Extinct.
That was what kept him up at night these days. The fact that he was akin to a dinosaur amidst a brave new world of ultra-reinforced titanium alloys, room-temperature superconductors, and bleeding-edge quantum computers...
And despite his immense curiosity for all the incredible wonders that existed in this era, he couldn't help but feel out of place. Even so, he kept his head down and played it cool.
The last thing he wanted to do was botch the opportunity that his gracious benefactor, Chief Williams had offered him.
In any case, his new profession these days was that of an "Apprentice Technician," a fledging grease monkey whose job it was to repair and maintain every single piece of machinery in the base.
Frederik Williams, the Chief Technician at Firehawk Base, was his supervisor and sponsor in these trying times, though more often than not, it felt more like a mentorship than anything else.
But if Isaak had to be perfectly honest, he believed his position to be closer to that of a glorified wrench jockey and occasional janitor for Williams's repair crew.
His daily job tasks usually amounted to passing maintenance tools to Williams, running automated diagnostics checks on old Reapers, and cleaning up the Maintenance Wing.
Sometimes he'd get the chance to place orders for additional Reaper components and ammunition too, but that was a rare occurrence. After all, Firehawk base was stationed in an area mostly devoid of life — specifically, anything worth wasting ammo on...
When Issak wasn't being ordered to clean up after everyone else's messes, his days were usually filled up with long sessions where he would be forced to rebuild a variety of different things under Williams's guidance.
Small machines, like automatic cleaners and simple electronic devices, were among the fodder that he had been forced to learn to repair. Learning which components mattered, what could be cannibalized from other defective machines, and understanding how to be resourceful were the major lessons Williams had drilled into his head.
The biggest point Williams loved to reiterate was that they were hundreds of miles away from the nearest Fortress City — an actual functioning, breathing city — which meant that for the most part, they were on their own.
Though they could request supplies, it would be at minimum a month before they'd see their order arrive at Firehawk Base, so it was imperative for the base to be as frugal, self-sufficient, and resourceful as humanely possible.
But that was just the mundane side of what he'd learned since he started living at Firehawk Base. What he'd learned since off-the-cuff from his peers intrigued him far, far more.
Earth had fallen into permanent disrepair and its favored children had gone off the deep end in the wake of the Vanishing, the event that ruined the world in an instant.
The only remaining bastion of civilization, the Federation, was a conglomerate of the countries that had not self-destructed in the wake of the Lost Era — the infernal period after the Twin Harbingers struck the Earth.
The Twin Harbingers, of course, referring to the two separate incidents that resulted in the disappearance of roughly a third of the Earth's surface. And it went without saying that the lost portions of the Earth that disappeared had become uninhabitable hellholes.
And even though the Federation had arisen from the ashes of the Old World, much of the planet was still a lawless pit where its influence could not reach.
For all the effort the Federation had put into rebuilding society, only a select few regions of the Earth were under its effective control and had a semblance of law and order.
Everything else was chaos, so to speak. Surprisingly though, there were still people who lived out in the ruins of Earth's Old World cities on their own.
These individuals were called "Wildlings" by citizens of the Federation and were labeled as such for their... unique, nomadic lifestyle. Some were small groups of survivors, and others were enormous tribes that could occupy an entire city for themselves.
They were a diverse people that traveled across the world chasing the few remaining locations on Earth that were still hospitable...
Their zone of operations were almost always within "Dead Zones" — extremely hazardous areas considered uninhabitable by Federation standards. These Dead Zones were often just lumped up together under a single derogatory name by Federation citizens, though — the Wilderness.
"People live in cities, and animals live in the Wilderness," was an expression that Isaak often heard around people higher up than him in Firehawk Base.
Suffice to say, Wildlings were not treated very kindly where Isaak was stationed. Not that he expected it to be different elsewhere, though.
Nevertheless, they were an enemy of the Federation, for these people had a very tumultuous history with one another for one particular reason.
The Federation, which possessed an actual military during the Lost Era, had pilfered most of the resources old cities once contained during its founding period.
Resources that the Wildlings had been robbed of during their darkest hour.
The Federation used those resources to build their new cities, while Wildlings fought for survival on their own in the Wilderness. And to top it off, after the cities had been built, the Federation had not allowed any refugees in... that is, for free.
If a Wildling wished to become a citizen, they would have to pay the price by enlisting into the Peacekeeper Corps for half a decade.
One had to pay their way into the Federation's good graces by becoming a soldier. After all, there were no free meals in the post-apocalypse.
As such, the vast majority of Wildlings had no intention of making peace with the Federation.
To them, they were nothing more than oppressive thieves who had taken the lion's share of the resources during the Lost Era, only to turn around and force them to become cannon fodder for a chance at something they felt entitled to as human beings — the opportunity of a relatively safe and comfortable life.
No one liked to live in the Wilderness, constantly under the threat of roaming gangs of bandits, dangerous wildlife, and the terrifying phenomena of the new seasons.
Alas, Isaak had been classified as a Wildling himself under the current immigration system.
As he had no registered kin in the Federation and was not born in a Federation city, he was not a citizen and therefore, a Wildling.
It would be half a decade before he would be officially allowed to become a citizen of the Federation and be granted the rights that came along with it.
He could not purchase property, own or purchase any personal weapons, vote in elections of any kind, and participating in any illegal activity would result in him being permanently banned from the Federation.
There were no second chances, redos, or appeals on the path to citizenship.
Once you were rejected, you'd be spending the rest of your life in the Wilderness.
That alone was enough to deter even the most hardened Wildling from acting out of hand in Firehawk Base. Very few people had the cajones to gamble their future away by doing something illegal such as trading, selling, and buying contraband or disobeying orders.
At the end of the day though, they couldn't be called Wildlings anymore, now that they were a part of the system.
They were officially designated with the title "Volunteer Corpsmen," instead.
The painful irony of the term had not gone unnoticed to Isaak when he first heard it.
It was a thoroughly disrespectful term, but it wasn't as if Isaak was going to speak out against its usage. Certainly not. His only goal was to keep his head down and play the good boy until his time was up.
If Williams wanted him to play fetch, rollover, and scrub every square inch of the Maintenance Wing, then he'd do it in a heartbeat.
More than anything, he had come to understand where he stood in the hierarchy of this new world. He had no rights, appreciable skills, or connections that'd give him a hand to play for his freedom and safety.
As everything stood now, Isaak was at the debt and mercy of Williams for what he had done for him.
...And so, Isaak got to work.
Every morning he'd wake up at the crack of dawn and prepare for yet another uneventful day of cleaning and repair work, but today had been... different.
When he made it to the Maintenance Wing, he found that the usual suspects had not been present. Williams' crew had not been in the repair shop as always and more importantly, not one of the repair gates had been opened.
If they weren't opened, they wouldn't be able to move the Reapers held in storage over to the Maintenance Wing. And strangely enough, he couldn't hear the sound of laborers outside either.
It was beyond quiet, to such an extent that it rang a flurry of alarm bells in mind.
'I've never seen this happen before. Did everyone get a memo I didn't? Shit, I better call the old man before I get in trouble."
Isaak pulled out a rugged black transceiver and walked over to a network port to connect.
It was a fairly old school, but communication was all done through a closed landline built exclusively for Firehawk Base.
If you wanted to talk to someone, you had to manually connect a physical network line and then a short-band signal would get broadcast across the base for the receiver to pick up. It then fell on the recipient to head over to a network port and connect to the call.
To put it simply, the transceivers were akin to primitive pagers of the Old World that would alert you when someone called you, except these bricks also functioned as a phone when they were connected to a physical landline.
Isaak hated the damn thing with a passion. The damn brick was military-spec — or in other words, idiot-proof — and was as a result, a heavily reinforced piece of shit that almost weighed a much a real brick.
Hence, the oh-so-affectionate namesake it was often called by — "a brick".
Isaak wondered if he was going to have to wait for a response given the unusual situation, but Willimas had picked up the call almost instantaneously when he called him.
As soon as the call connected, Williams hurriedly said, "Shit, I forgot about you! Meet me at my office, ASAP! Don't ask questions, just do it!"
Williams disconnected as quickly as he had connected, not even leaving Isaak a second to respond. He had never heard him speak so roughly to him, so instantly put him on edge.
'Shitshitshiiiiit! Oh FUCK, what the hell did I do wrong?!'
There was no greater motivator than fear, especially when it concerned one's life. And Isaak was no different than the average person when pressured. The instant the call ended, he hauled ass towards Williams's office as if his life depended on it.
Because it probably did. As far as he was concerned, his meal ticket was on the fucking line and that was enough to get his heart pumping like a racehorse.
Had he been timed, Isaak would have likely placed in some kind of record for the fastest sprint in the 200-meter category. In record time, he had dashed through the Maintenance Wing like a crazed fiend, hellbent on reaching the other end where Williams's office was located.
When Isaak arrived at his destination, out of breath and scared of his goddamned mind, he saluted Williams and raggedly said, "Gladstone reporting in for duty, Sir!"
Williams would have cracked up at Isaak's pathetic salute had it been any other day... but today was different. He was in no mood to joke around, especially in light of what was going to arrive soon.
"Just take a seat, boy, and close the door behind you. We've got to talk about an important topic today. And quickly. It's something I've forgotten to tell you about, so the fault lies with me."
Isaak closed the door behind him, plopped down in front of Williams's desk, and said, "Does it have to do with the absences on base today, Sir?"
"That it does," said Williams and bluntly stated, "And it's got to do with... the curse that plagues this godforsaken planet."
"...A curse? On the planet? That sounds a bit too superstitious for the current era, Sir."
"Don't presume to even think that you understand what's really out there, kid. You're as fresh as they come, so do your self a favor and listen closely — there are things out that defy human comprehension," snarled Williams, before he stopped himself.
Isaak swallowed nervously out of reflex and turned rigid when saw how rapidly Williams turned sour. He had definitely stepped on a nerve and a huge one at from the sound of it.
"...My bad, kid. I shouldn't have snapped at you, it's just... you won't be able to understand how twisted things really are until you see for yourself. It's total hell at the two 'main sites' and it's not that better elsewhere, to be completely honest."
Williams pulled out a small black case from his desk and said, "To be put simply, the planet's got two giant, festering tumors that regularly spill out something real terrible. People call these new types of natural disasters by different names, depending on the District."
It went without saying that it was all the same, though. Different terms for the same affliction... And all of them were valid, considering the impact these disasters had on the environment.
"God's Wrath, Pangu's Wrath, the Devil's Dance, or my personal favorite, Eden's Curse..." said Williams as he rattled off a list of variants, "Federation calls the phenomenon a "Metastability Burst". Makes no difference what you call it, though — the damn thing is a scourge set loose upon the Earth to torment the living, or rather, us..."
A curse for those who had dared to trespass over the authority of God. It was a new trial for a brand new, unforgivable sin.
Williams pulled out and opened a small black case before he presented it to Isaak.
Held within it were two autoinjectors that were labeled "PRC-xA" in bright red lettering.
Isaak picked up one of the autoinjectors and said, "What's inside of it?"
"It's a psi-dampener, anxiety suppressant, and audiovisual sensory inhibitor. A drug cocktail was created to suppress the... often fatal effects incurred of being in close proximity of a Metastability Burst," said Williams as he took the other autoinjector for himself.
There were very few ways to avoid the effects of Eden's Curse, so it was considered more practical to simply find a way to endure it instead.
PRC-xA wasn't a miracle cure, though. It only dulled the trauma to a certain extent.
"I'm going to be real with you, kid. Nothing I can say will properly explain what's going to hit this base today. Nothing specific, anyway. But I will tell you this — you are NOT to believe anything you may see, hear, or experience. Hallucinations are extremely common when in the proximity of an M-Burst."
Williams leaned over his desk, grabbed Isaak by the shoulders and said, "Everyone's already entered a state of lockdown in preparation, which why the base is empty. I need you to head back to your personal quarters and stay there until further notice. Am I clear?"
Isaak dumbly stared at Williams and said, "Sir? I don't understand..."
"Just tell me you understood the order I gave you," replied Williams with a firm, cold tone.
Isaak nodded, but he still did not understand... What did Williams mean by "hallucinations"?
It didn't make any sense at all. What was coming? Why did he need to sedate himself and lock himself in his room?
All of these were excellent questions... that he would soon answer himself. It would not be long before it all Hell would break loose in Firehawk Base.
And there would be no escaping it, for sinners were destined to receive what was owed to them...
Judgment.