The raider's name was Latif. His story was unremarkable. A member of a gang that stumbled upon an ancient weapon buried after the Extinction. That same night, he and a handful of his henchmen poisoned their leader and slaughtered his family and most trusted comrades, subjugating the rest. After digging up the machine, the bandits turned it into a mobile camp.
Since then, Latif has traveled the world, ravaging villages and filling the holds of his fortress with stolen supplies and slaves for sale. Periodically, he formed alliances with other raiders to overcome settlements capable of resistance. Such agreements rarely lasted longer than the first breach in the defenders’ walls, as Latif always stabbed his allies in the back, enslaving everyone in his path and recruiting the best madmen into his ranks.
Even ambitious fools learn, and Latif’s name was no longer welcome among the wild gatherings of plunderers and slave traders. Their lairs still accepted his landship because of the tribute Latif paid to Paikan, the unofficial ruler of the local lands. But outside the markets, slavers, raiders, and even ordinary robbers mercilessly hunted the hated opportunist who dared to break all the unspoken rules and agreements.
After experiencing several such ambushes when the rest of the bandits came to the aid of Latif’s victims, the raider realized that Volnitsa was no longer a defenseless feeding ground for his gang. He expanded his hunting zone and left the borders of the lawless region, bringing grief and destruction to neighboring lands.
Latif’s mobile base was a nightmare manifested in reality. The rusting, two-hundred-twenty-thousand-ton wagon moved on gigantic wheels. A wide variety of weapons, from artillery pieces to rocket launchers, were welded onto the hull of this resurrected zombie. But such a behemoth required constant maintenance, and only Volnitsa lairs were willing to sell supplies and repairs. Hundreds of slaves labored day and night in the innards of the evil colossus, dying by the dozens and dreaming that the owners would recognize them as fit for sale.
Nor was there unity in the ranks of Latif’s minions. His original gang had long since disappeared. Some had been betrayed by their own subordinates; others had been deemed useless due to their wounds and thrown into the engine bay or ammunition-fetching duties to live out their days. Often blades glinted in the dimly lit corridors, and the sounds of gunfire echoed off the walls as the raiders reshuffled dainty positions. Latif didn’t care about any squabbles. As long as his horde obeyed his will and were constrained by the fear he instilled in them, they could do whatever they wanted with whomever they wanted. On rare occasions, the returned prisoners would tell wild stories of the torture going on in Latif’s base and show their mutilated bodies as evidence.
Such a lifestyle was impossible to sustain for long. Latif was always in need of new men, new slaves to sell and to pay the meat tribute, and a constant supply of spare parts and ammunition. He grew brazen, launching increasingly daring raids inside and outside Volnitsa, miraculously escaping the claws of death. His story was another tale of a hard and shortsighted tyrant with no achievable goal, whose only difference from the rest was his extraordinary streak of good fortune.
One that lasted until this day. Latif dared to attack and sack a settlement in the far east of Volnitsa, capturing many exotic mutants.
For this he was sentenced to death. The Oathtakers never abandoned their own.
Latif’s wagon loomed over the empty scavenger camp. Smoke curled from the burning huts; both watchtowers were gone, replaced by craters. A mob of armed bastards from all corners of the world stormed into the settlement, nestled near the mountainside, rushing toward the large house belonging to the chief. They broke through the inner palisade, slowed by the absence of screams and people trying to reach the arsenal. Their suspicions were soon confirmed: the beautifully painted chief’s house and all the storehouses stood empty, and there was not a soul in the settlement or the inner camp. The locals had not left a single slave for the raiders, and Latif’s cry called his horde back, while the guns of his wagon reduced the house to smoldering ruins.
The decoys slipped out of small crevices in the east of the gorge. Several battered and patched-up trucks and four buggies. The trucks rushed east, and eight rockets flew out of the launchers installed on top of the buggies, exploding in the bright red blossoms on the hull of the bandit base.
Latif’s roar of rage turned into a guttural laugh, and his wagon turned, crushing several thugs who had been too slow to climb the ramp. The fools had barely singed his beast and exposed themselves. The machine moved, drawing a line of destruction across the settlement with its belly. Inside, the overseers used their whips, spurring the slaves to exert every effort to ensure a successful chase. Tribute time was approaching, and they still hadn’t gathered enough meat or supplies. If the situation didn’t improve, Latif could well sell them to appease the ruler of Volnitsa.
Realizing the futility of their efforts, the buggies turned around and raced after the trucks down the long canyon. The wagon rushed after them, carving gouges in the sandy ground with its massive wheels. Cannons trained on the target, but Latif ordered the men not to shoot, eager to get the trucks relatively intact. The front of the wagon opened like the mouth of a great beast, filling most of the narrow canyon and belching out an infernal roar of its engine, mingled with the sound of countless moving parts. Flames burst from the engines behind the machine as it began catching up with the scavengers.
The escapees hurried toward the bend in the canyon, where it formed a T-shape. Their hopes in the vehicle's clumsiness turned to horror as the guns spat out a barrage of shells, collapsing a section of rock and blocking the passage to safety. Latif laughed as he watched the front of his vehicle nearly caught up with the fleeing men when the first shell landed on top of his machine. The raider’s large hands crumpled the armrests of his throne as men jumped out of their hiding places on the canyon cliffs.
There were scavengers, bandits, and simply victims of his past conquests. The cameras caught several familiar faces among the idiots he had exploited and betrayed and those who had managed to escape or buy their freedom. Armed with rocket launchers, RPGs, or simply hurling bundles of grenades, they blanketed their pursuers in a deafening, fiery shroud. Latif’s contemptuous laughter rang out through the barrage. None of the shells pierced the hull, and only a lone mortar tumbled down after all these efforts.
The raider's needle-like leg lifted in a silent gesture, prompting the operators to take aim. They would slaughter hundreds, and then his gang would capture those unlucky enough to survive. The cripples were also valuable in the arenas. The open gates of the wagon almost reached the runaways on the ground.
The debris disappeared in a bright flash reminiscent of a sunrise. The operators stared in bewilderment at the suddenly captured energy and heat readings, and even Latif froze when the sirens wailed, announcing the radar detection of an enormous object south of the pursuers. Dust created a hazy mist at the site of the recently blocked passage.
And through it, a pyramidal shape squeezed through. Sunlight illuminated the green front of the object hovering above the ground, exquisite patterns painted in gold formed letters of prayers on the smooth hull, and in its center was a circle containing several dozen religious symbols. Simultaneously, small circles opened on the front of the pyramid, revealing smooth barrels of large-caliber weapons without the slightest trace of rust or malfunction.
Trained by experience gained in hundreds of battles, the train's operators opened fire on the newcomer. It responded with a blaze of energy, tongues lashing out from its largest guns, and shells, bullets, and grenades exploded in the air without reaching their target. Accompanied by a soft rumble, the pyramid advanced, unleashing a barrage of counterfire on the enemy.
Artillery installations, turrets, and protective structures disappeared from the left side of the machine, as if licked away by a vast tongue, and a powerful jolt that penetrated deep into the wagon knocked the panicking bandits off their feet. But that was only the beginning. Three hundred thousand tons of the pyramid slammed into the flank of the massive wagon, forcing its right side to scrape along the side of the canyon, losing its armament. The beautiful and flawless surface of the pyramid received a few scratches, but its opponent fared worse, and the monstrous pressure ruptured several pipes inside the machine, showering the raiders with superheated gas and boiling water, exposing the bones of several misfortunate victims.
Instantly assessing the danger of the situation, Latif sat back in his throne and gave the order to direct all power to the engines, and the flames bursting from them changed from orange to blue. Such a rapid surge of heat melted part of the rock and brought the vehicle back into motion, releasing its trapped portion with a tremendous grinding sound, accompanied by falling boulders drumming on the damaged structure. The convoy of escapees survived by sticking to the side of the canyon and letting the panicked steel beast pass.
A cry of disappointment came from the unusual alliance as their oppressors widened the distance between themselves and their allies. Several mutants and humans with powers began to run for a jump to land on the wagon. A single volley from the pyramid cut off part of the cliff, forcing the stunned people to retreat. No one was killed, but the message was clear. Don’t interfere. This is our hunt.
The pyramid did not turn; it simply changed direction, following the raiders who were trying to escape. With a series of loud bangs, six long capsules flew out of the pyramid, catching up with the wagon in seconds. Five capsules pierced the lower decks, unerringly finding their targets near the arsenals, engine room, and prison. The serrated blades on the capsules' prows sprang into action, gnawing into and tearing through the metal in their path like a parasite burrowing into a human body, and the last capsule struck the command tower, bringing a smirk to Latif’s face. The armor in this spot was too thick, and a remaining cannon targeted the uninvited guests. Completely calm, Latif gave the order to prepare to repel boarding.
