weaponry unleashed during the war. Ordinary mutants were wild creatures born
with their genetic code scrambled. Their condition was believed to be the
byproduct of the tremendous amounts of radiation the war had saturated the
environment with, producing animals with two heads and six legs or any other
quirky combination of genetic traits.
The second form of mutation was the consequence of chemical warfare.
These were called mutates instead of simply mutants, and they were as different
from mutants as night from day. Once afflicted—and only mammals, reptiles,
and amphibians had been infected so far-—they transformed into hideous
monstrosities with insatiable appetites. Their bodies would become covered with
pus-filled sores, and like ravenous shrews they would roam the countryside
seeking prey.
The third category was the smallest numerically, but the sight of one
belonging to it was enough to give any ordinary person a fleeting shock, if not
more, because they so closely resembled humans. This category embraced the
genetically engineered mutations, created in a scientist's test tube. Genetic
engineering had been all the rage prior to the war. Scientists everywhere wanted
to be the first to develop new, genetically improved species. Patents were
granted. Enormous amounts of money changed hands. Headlines were made
when the very first genetically engineered animal was produced, a "super
mouse" to be used for research purposes. Next a "super rat" was bred, resulting
in dire ramifications when a few of the super rats escaped from a lab and mated
with their feral brethren occupying a sewer system underneath a major American
metropolis. The result had been a new breed of nearly indestructible sewer rat
with a superior intelligence and less fear of humans. Within a year the city had
been overrun, and the scientists, predictably, had attempted to solve the
problem by creating a breed of "super cat." And on and on it went. Blade was intimately familiar with genetically engineered creatures.
Several resided at the Family compound in Minnesota. They had defected to the
Family years ago during the war against the nefarious scientific genius known as
the Doktor.
"Cat got your tongue?" the new recruit queried mockingly. "No," Blade blurted out, scrutinizing the creature before him. The mutant
was a fascinating hybrid, a cross between a human being and a bear. The genetically engineered mutations were produced by tampering with a typical human embryo, and with the right combination of elements a scientist could create any crossbreed desired: cat-men, dog-men, monkey-men, anything. This one was a bear-man, a biped with a human voice but decidedly ursine features. He wasn't all that tall, about five feet eight in height, but he was built like a powerhouse. His torso and limbs gave the impression of a certain density, a thickness derived from the possession of layer upon layer of muscles, and suggested incredible strength. The shoulders and upper arms especially were broad and endowed with bulging contours. His entire body, from head to toe, was covered with a short, light brown coat of fur. The face was singularly arresting: slightly concave cheeks, a pointed chin, elongated nostrils lightly coated with the fur, deep dark eyes, and a receding brow, all framed by a pair of small circular ears. The mutant's mouth was large, his lips thin, and when he
spoke he revealed a set of tapered teeth.
Blade recovered his composure and walked up to the hybrid, his right
hand outstretched. "Hello. Please forgive my rudeness. My name is Blade." The mutant cocked his head to one side, studying the Warrior. "You're
serious," he stated. "About what?" Blade asked.
"About your apology," the mutant clarified.
"Of course," Blade assured him. "I shouldn't have gawked at you. It won't
happen again."
"I believe you," the mutant said, finally shaking the Warrior's hand. He
was wearing a black loincloth, but nothing else.
Blade smiled. The mutant's grip was firm. He glanced down and noticed
the hybrid's hands were topped by unusually huge knuckles. The fingers were
unusually thick and covered with light fur.
"I'm called Grizzly," the mutant said, introducing himself.
"I wonder why," Blade said, smiling.
Grizzly eyed the Warrior. "You sure are one of the biggest son of a bitches
I've ever met! You wouldn't happen to be part mutant, would you?" Blade snorted. "No. I doubt it."
"I know some of the mutants are giant suckers, just like you," Grizzly
commented.
"In my case it's a matter of clean living and lots and lots of exercise,"
Blade said.
"We should arm-wrestle sometime," Grizzly suggested. "I haven't met a
human yet I couldn't beat." Blade stared at the mutant's shoulders and arms. "I'll
bet."
General Gallagher stepped forward. "If you don't need me, I think I'll be
getting back toL.A.''
"We don't need you," Blade stated. "Not unless you want to stick around
until tomorrow and observe our training sessions. In the morning we're
conducting stealth tests."
"Stealth tests?" General Gallagher repeated.
"I want to see how quietly the recruits can move," Blade explained. "Their
lives may hinge on how silently they can move during a mission." "I don't need no stealth test," Grizzly remarked.
Blade looked at him. "All the recruits will take the test."
"I don't need one," Grizzly reiterated. "If I wanted to sneak up on you and
cut your throat, you'd never hear me coming."
"Maybe. But you'll still take the test. None of the recruits are exempted
from any of the exercises," Blade elaborated.
"I can see you're different from most humans," Grizzly commented. "You
don't back down. Most humans are such wimps it's pitiful."
General Gallagher turned toward the door. "I'll be back in three days to
check on your training progress. If there's anything you need, any way I can
help, just let me know."
"Will do," Blade promised.
Gallagher took several strides, then stopped and glanced back. "Oh. I
almost forgot. I have your uniforms in the jeep."
"Uniforms?" Blade said.
"The ones the Freedom Force will be wearing," Gallagher detailed.
"Camouflage jobs. There are several for each of you."
"We probably won't be needing many of them," Blade mentioned. Gallagher turned. "What are you talking about? This is a military unit.
Everyone in the Force will wear a uniform."
"I'm in charge of the Force," Blade stated. "And I'll decide what we'll
wear. If any of the recruits want to wear one, that's fine with me. But it won't be
mandatory."
"That's stupid," Gallagher said, frowning. "Uniforms are essential to the
maintenance of discipline, to instilling uniformity in the ranks."
"I don't want to instill uniformity," Blade declared.
"How do you expect to succeed as a unit if you don't?" General Gallagher
queried skeptically. "Trust me on this. The military has been my life. I've spent
almost thirty-five years in the Army. I know what I'm talking about." "And so do I," Blade said.
"How so?" Gallagher asked.
"I'll use the Warriors as an example," Blade expounded. "The Warriors
have successfully protected the Family and defended the Home for over a
century. The Warriors function superbly, whether individually, in their respective
Triads
, or as a team. As head Warrior, I continued the practices established by
my predecessors. Although I worked at maintaining discipline, I deliberately
encouraged all Warriors to develop their unique skills and express their
personality as they saw fit. The Warriors don't wear uniforms. Each Warrior
wears the clothes he or she prefers. And the same holds true with weaponry.
Each Warrior uses his or her favorite weapon or weapons. We have found that
Warriors can be far more effective, far more deadly, if they're able to assert their
personalities." He paused. "If you stifle individuality, you limit a person's capability." General Gallagher shook his head. "I think you're making a mistake, but this is your show. The system you use at the Home has worked so well because there are only eighteen Warriors, not an entire army. The size makes a
big difference."
"I agree," Blade said.
"You do?"
"Of course. I don't have an army at my disposal. There are only seven
members of the Force, counting myself. I'll use the same techniques here I used
on the Warriors," Blade stated. General Gallagher shrugged, "Your choice. But
don't say I didn't warn you if something goes wrong down the line. I'll leave the
uniforms in the supply bunker, just in case."
"Thanks," Blade remarked.
Gallagher wheeled and departed.
"What you said makes sense to me," Grizzly commented. "I can't wear a
uniform anyway."
"Can't or won't'" Blade questioned.
"Can't," Grizzly said. "You have no idea what clothing does to us mutant
types. With all our fur or hair, clothing makes us itch like crazy. There's no way
I'd wear a uniform.
"Then you won't have to," Blade assured him. He motioned at the door.
"Why don't I escort you to the barracks and introduce you to the rest of the
crew."
"Fine by me," Grizzly said.
They exited the office and climbed the stairs. The outer door swung open
and they were enveloped by the cool night air.
Blade led the way to the east, the north wind ruffling his hair. Grizzly sniffed the breeze, inhaling deeply. "I think I've found my supper." "What?"
Grizzly pointed to the north. "There's a rabbit about twenty yards that
way. After I meet the boys, I'm going to enjoy some fresh rabbit." He said the
word "boys" sarcastically.
"There's food in the barracks," Blade disclosed. "There's no need to go
hunting."
"I like to hunt," Grizzly mentioned. "I like the thrill of stalking and killing.
And most of all, I like fresh, raw meat dripping in warm blood. Do you have any
in the barracks?"
"No, Blade admitted.
Grizzly chuckled. "Didn't think so. I don't see how you humans can spoil
your food the way you do."
"We spoil our food?"
"You sure do," Grizzly asserted. "You cook the meat and ruin the taste.
And the sight of blood makes some of you sick! To top it off, you humans like to
eat all that leafy green garbage. How disgusting!"
"You don't eat vegetables?" Blade inquired.
"I eat wild greens," Grizzly said. "Natural food. I won't eat anything you
humans grow."
"Why not?"
"I've seen the gardens you humans plant," Grizzly stated. "You go to all
the trouble to dig up the ground and plant a little seed and give it the water it
needs, but then you spoil the whole thing by spreading horse shit or cow manure
all over it to 'fertilize it,' as you call it. Yuck! How can anyone eat something
grown from horse shit?"
Blade grinned. "I never thought of it that way."
Grizzly gazed at the barracks, about 40 yards away. "Where will I be
sleeping?"
"In the barracks with the men," Blade answered.
"I thought you'd say that," Grizzly said. "Thanks, but no. I'll deep out in
the woods."
"What's wrong with the barracks?"
"Nothing, I guess. But I tend to make humans uncomfortable. It might be
better for your men if I stay outside. I don't mind. I like the outdoors better
anyway."
"But you're part of a team now," Blade remarked. "You should learn to
live and work together."
"Aren't you the one who's so big on individuality?" Grizzly asked. "You can sleep in the woods if you want," Blade said. "But I'd appreciate
your giving the barracks a try. The men have to get used to you, and the sooner,
the better."
"I'll think about it," Grizzly offered.
They walked in silence for ten yards.
Blade looked at his companion. "I wasn't aware there were any mutants
like yourself left in the Civilized Zone. I thought all of them had been killed." "Not by a long shot," Grizzly said, somewhat bitterly. "There's a few dozen
floating around."
"I'd like to ask a question, Blade said.
"What's stopping you?" Grizzly replied. "I don't want to pry into your
personal life, but there's something I need to know," Blade stated. "Like what?"
"A while back, my Family was involved in a war against a man known as
the Doktor. He was a scientist, a genetic engineer. He had created hundreds,
maybe thousands, of genetically produced mutants like yourself. Three of them
now live at the Home." Blade paused. "I'd like to know if you were created by
the Doktor?"
"Yep," Grizzly responded, his tone slightly strained.
"What's to tell?" Grizzly rejoined. "The damn Doktor made me, grew me
from a cross between a human embryo and a grizzly bear embryo, or some such
bullshit I don't understand exactly how he did it. But the bastard did, and here I
am." "How did you survive the war?" Blade asked.
"I was in prison in Denver during the war," Grizzly divulged. "I wasn't
released until after your Family won the war, and after President Toland became
leader of the Civilized Zone." Blade pursed his lips, reflecting. During World War
Three, after most of America's leaders were killed in a preemptive strike on
Washington, D.C, the government had withdrawn to Denver,Colorado, and
reorganized. A dictator had assumed the reins, and the area he controlled had
become known as the Civilized Zone. The dictator's bloodline had ruled for a
century, until terminated by the Warriors. The people of the Civilized Zone had
established a representative form of government and elected Toland as their
President. As one of the members of the Freedom Federation, the Civilized Zone
was a staunch ally. Blade knew Toland well. One of Toland's early acts after
being elected was to release all of those unjustly imprisoned by the last of the
dictators and the Doktor. "Why were you in prison?" he inquired.
"The Doktor created his merry band of mutants for one reason," Grizzly
said. "To serve him hand and foot." He made a low growling sound. "Only I
didn't cotton to being a slave, so he had me thrown in prison."
"Why did you volunteer for the Force?" Blade probed.
Grizzly sighed. "Because I wanted out of the Civilized Zone. I couldn't
stand it there anymore."
"Why not?"
"The people were driving me nuts," Grizzly said. "Their attitude. There is a
lot of resentment toward mutants because of what the Doktor and his loyal
flunkies did. I could see the dislike
on their faces. I could feelit!" he concluded
bitterly.
"Do you think the people inCa lifornia will be any different?" Blade asked. "I doubt it," Grizzly said.
"But you came anyway," Blade noted.
"I figured I owed Toland for letting me out of that miserable prison,"
Grizzly stated. "Besides, I hear this Freedom Force will be kicking ass right and
left," He smiled. "I like to kick ass." They completed the walk to the barracks.
Blade opened the door and descended to the living quarters. The building was 20
yards long by 15 wide, solidly built to withstand a direct mortar strike,
constructed of concrete. Spacious accommodations were provided for the
occupants.
The entrance was located at the west end. Two rows of beds were near
the entrance, allowing for a swift departure if necessary. Three of the beds were
aligned along the north wall, three along the south. Beyond the sleeping section
was the kitchen, amply stocked, where the Force members could fix meals to
their own satisfaction. The easterly portion of the barracks contained the
showers and toilet facilities. The recruits were socializing, getting to know one
another, slinging the bull while seated oh the ends of their respective beds or on
one of the chairs scattered about the room. Blade was pleased to see them getting along. Boone was sitting on the edge of the bed nearest die doorway along the north wall. Then came Thunder. Sergeant Havoc was seated in a chair next to his bed, polishing his combat boots. Along the south wall, Kraft was closest to the entrance. Spader occupied the next bunk. The last bed along the
south wall was empty. The men looked up as the Warrior entered. "What's this?" Kraft said, speaking up. "Are you here to tuck us in?" He
laughed and Spader joined in.
"What's up, Blade?" Boone inquired.
Blade stayed framed in the doorway, obscuring their view of the mutant
behind him. "I'm here to introduce your new teammate," he told them. "The one from the Civilized Zone is here?" Sergeant Havoc remarked. Blade nodded.
"Where is he?" Thunder queried.
"Right here," Blade said, and stepped to the right.
Grizzly nonchalantly strolled in.
Blade saw everyone in the room tense up, their expressions frozen in
amazement. Sergeant Havoc recovered the quickest, composing himself almost
instantly and nodding at Grizzly. Thunder seemed horrified. Boone did a double