Northern Desh'elika Mountains, Nuceria
The boy who would be known as Angron felt his speeding heart rate start to slow once he got a solid grip on the edge of the cliff face. He only took a look back once he had fully hoisted himself onto the ledge and had no risk of falling. He turned around, crouched on one knee as he surveyed the landscape that was at his back. The almost crimson mountains were like stone daggers, waiting to skewer an unwary giant who lost their step. He had no doubt that such fall would be fatal to him. His gestation pod was left behind, waiting for his return. Or for something to happen upon it, whichever came first.
All the boy had in his possession was a tunic of animal skins, his name and a vague sense of some greater purpose that so far seemed to elude him.
Angron gritted his teeth when he felt his stomach growling. He hadn't eaten in a while, only catching a few birds and small furry predatory animals he used to make his garments. They were nourishment enough, and the information they provided was very valuable. The mountain range he was in was of wide extent, with a large variety of game and potential shelters. There were some small settlements in the area that he could make his way to and he already chose to head for the nearest one. There was also a vast city on the edge of the range, with buildings as far as the eye could see and filled to the brim with people.
But as nourishing as the animals he found so far were, Angron desired a more robust meal. Something larger.
And deep down, he wished that whatever he chose to eat next posed more of a challenge. He walked with a relaxed pace when he heard something off in the distance. Something like rocks breaking. And something else, a squealing of some kind. It got closer and closer with every second, prompting him to pick up the pace and head in its direction.
Angron was near a small group of trees when he saw an armored wagon came into view with weird tracks on the side that served as a form of locomotion. Four men in plate armor, head wraps and armored boots were surrounding an iron cage that held a group of seven people only dressed in rags. The men were cradling weird objects in their arms that the people in the cage were keeping their eyes one before they noticed him. One man sat in front of the cage, putting his hand up and doing something to stop the wagon. He leaned close to Angron and smiled before saying something unintelligible, gesturing toward the cage.
He couldn't understand a word the man was saying to him. But no matter what language the man spoke, no matter what he was trying to say, his eyes and facial expression told him everything he needed to know. Though the man's tone was somewhat friendly, his grin was jeering, condescending. His gaze was a hungry one too.
On some primal level, it was clear that this man was a predator, someone not to be trusted. Angron's gaze flickered to the people in the cage. If the man driving the cart and his associates were the predators, they had to be the prey. His eyes narrowed. This man and his cohorts thought he was prey too. Angron gritted his teeth. It seemed he found his next meal already.
The man in front of him groaned, said something and took something out of a pouch at his hip as he jumped to the ground. The object resembled a long black worm that made a loud crack as he shot it out toward Angron. The boy grabbed the portion of it that was about to touch him and pulled, dragging the man toward him. Angron uppercut the man's chin, launching the head from the neck in a crimson geyser. The rest of the men shouted in anger and pointed the objects at him, shooting some sort of projectiles at him and letting out a lot of noise every time they fired off the projectiles. Angron dodged the small objects being fired at him, punching a hole in the chest of the attacker nearest to him and breaking the neck of the other one.
The final attacker dropped his weapon and started to run away, only making it a few steps before Angron ran him down. He dug his fingers into the man's face and began to pull in opposite directions, the man's screams intermingled with the sound of his face rupturing. Ignoring the shrieks from the people in the cage, Angron began to devour the pieces of the man's brain, shivering as he saw images start to manifest.
His victim was a predator all right. Angron saw him beating cowering figures with a smile on his face, raining blows on them with his fists and heavy objects. And what he did to the women every once in a while made Angron nauseous. Other information flooded into his mind. The man, Grujen, had attacked some of the smaller settlements nearby. Those he killed were brought to the city Angron saw earlier. Desh'ea. The city was the largest on the planet, with a population of just under two hundred million inhabitants. Grujen served the city's ruling elite, supplying them with people like the ones in the cage.
Slaves. That's what they were to be. That was what the men intended to make him. A slave. Simply one of the millions forced to serve the rulers of the city state until their final breath.
Angron felt something boil within him. This was the fate that the men had in store for him and the people locked in the cage.
Unless he saw fit to change it.
Angron walked over to the cage, not bothered by the fact that the people inside were shuffling to the far end of it as he approached. He supposed that watching him dine on the slaver's face didn't help his already fearsome demeanor. He tugged on the bars of the cage, ripping them open within seconds. He stepped through the hole eyeing the man closest to him. His wrists were shackled together.
"Your hands" Angron said flatly. The man blinked in confusion. The boy simply sighed and broke the shackles apart with a quick tug. Angron silently went from person to person, breaking their restraints. Some of the prisoners he freed fled the cage and picked up the guard's weapons. But as scared of him as they were, they didn't point the 'guns' at him.
"Who..." a young woman in rags stammered. "Who are..."
"Angron." the boy replied. "Where is shelter?"
The woman approached him slowly. "Come with us, Angron. We'll find someplace safe." He looked at her for a few moments before asking 'what of your village?'
"Burned." a young bald man replied bitterly. "There's nothing left of it. The bastards set it on fire when they took us four days ago."
"Then the mountains will have to do for now." Angron replied. "Take what you have to and get ready to move." The boy cocked his head. "What's your name?"
"Kaku." the bald man replied. "And...thank you." He got out of the cage and went over to a box near the wagon's controls, laughing as he pulled out some long, thin, rectangular objects.
"Got their rations." Kaku said to the others. Some of the other would-be slaves were taking armor off the bodies of the dead guards. One of them whistled at the long splash of blood coming from the neck of the guard Angron decapitated.
"I can't find this guy's head." he said, impressed.
"And somehow, I can't bring myself to weep." the young woman replied flatly. "Could've used the extra helmet though."
"We have enough for now." Angron said to them. "The more distance we put between us and the wagon, the better."
Within minutes, the wagon and guards were picked clean of everything of value by the newly freed captives. Angron sat on a nearby fallen log, watching the group and processing the information he absorbed from Grujen. The slaves were supposed to arrive at a processing site on the outskirts of Desh'ea in four days time. By his calculations, the group had a little over a week before they needed to expect a search party to enter the area.
They'd be ready. Angron would make sure of that.
