Prologue

“Do you think anyone’s actually going to show up?” said the young guard, the excitement evident in his voice.

        “Hell if I know,” said his partner for the night, a much older, and much less enthusiastic man when it comes to this patrol.

        The two men stood watch in the Gate, a large chamber acting as a buffer and clean room between the Oasis they lived in and the world outside. This patrol was undoubtedly the most boring to be assigned to in Damensport. The Gate is just bare metal walls, the same as it has always been since the day the Oasis, a dome-like structure housing a small town inside, was built. The other patrols include actually patrolling, moving around and doing something other than trying to pass the time, but the Gatewatch is just sitting, guarding the massive door that holds back the post electro-nuclear apocalypse on the other side. The Damensport Guard consider the Gatewatch the closest thing they can get to a retirement, just passing the time playing games of low bet gambling. Occasionally they’ll sneak in darts, or other games they can easily move in and out. The younger, less rule-comfortable guards consider the watch a punishment, or the short straw, and just try and figure out how to never get the shift again.

        Indeed, on most occasions this duo of guards would usually look something like a grandparent, contently napping away the time on the subway, amused by the angsty teenager who is moodily waiting to be rid of the elder’s company. Today however, Reg Grant, the older of the two guards, felt like the old hunting dog, growing tired of the excited puppy pestering him to find out when something new was going to happen.

        “What, you aren’t even a little curious to see one?”

        “One, what, a Nomad? Kid, they’re just guys in suits, like you or me. Only difference is they don’t have to answer to our laws. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen ‘em all. Just a mask with the promise of payment for a conscience.”

        The kid shifted, slightly unwilling to ease his enthusiasm. “Well, I still think it’ll be interesting to put a face- or a mask, at least- to the idea. If they actually come, that is.”

        The old man let out a harsh chuckle. “Someone will come,” he said. “The money’s too good for none of them to show.”

        “Well I hope they get here soon,” the younger of the two actually looked at the door, as if he just said the magic words. “My shift is almost done, I was hoping I’d be on watch when they-”

Boom… boom… boom…

        They both tensed, even the more experienced of the two, as he said, “Be careful what you wish for, Kid.”

-

        The tension and anxiety built over the minutes it took for Mayor Bradley to arrive after receiving word that the Nomad had knocked. When he did get there, two more guards in tow, they all looked like they were about to open the door to a cage containing a rabid dog.

        “Have you spoken with them?” Bradley asked the Gate shift.

        Grant answered, being the senior officer, “No sir, we were told to notify you right away when the Nomad arrived.”

        “Have you confirmed that it is the Nomad?”

Boom… boom… boom…

        They all froze. For a moment, no one said anything, then Grant shattered the silence, “All due respect, but who the Hell else would it be?”

        Bradley relaxed slightly, though he knew this wasn’t the time for banter. “Don’t let my wife hear you talking to me like that.”

        “Good point, she might not invite me to the next brunch.”

        “If you weren’t there, we wouldn’t have an excuse to drink brandy before 11.”

        The genial smiles and chuckles died quickly, as-

Boom…        boom…        boom…

Grant noticed the extra time between resounding knocks, as if the man on the other side was being more deliberate, insistent. Impatient.

        Bradley took a deep breath to steady himself. “Everyone ready?” he asked the room. No one answered beyond a nervous nod. “Alright then. Sg. Grant, if you would.”

        “Sir,” Grant said as he moved to pull the lever.

The lever stuck for a moment, as if it wasn’t sure it wanted the door to open either, but then it lurched into the open position, and the massive Gate screeched and groaned as it opened for the first time in years. Once used to let in hundreds of people at a time as they moved their homes into the Haven, the structures that later came to be known as Oases, the door would open a hundred feet across. Now, they only opened it a few feet.

As the gap in the door widened, a beam of light shone through, but after a moment it clicked off, and the space became a vacuum of darkness, swallowing the light greedily. Directly outside the Gate was a long tunnel that acted as a staging area for entry into the Oasis. The light shining through revealed only a pair of boots, until the figure stepped forward.

-

As he stepped into the light, the 5 men in the Gate saw the man wore a combination of loose fitting, almost robe-like clothes and combat gear, thinner and yet more substantial than even the Damensport guards. Not a sliver of flesh was showing. The gaps between the thick black fabric and plating was forest green and rust colored material, almost like canvas. It looked flexible, and yet to be able to stand up to the weather and radiation of the world outside, it has to be tough. The armor was a similar style, looking light but tough. It mostly seemed like bulletproof plating in heavy fabric, with straps and pockets for various equipment and places to fit small trinkets that the Nomad would find in the world. What drew the attention most was the mask under the hood. There were slits in the faceplate, hinting at a mouth, vents out the side by where his jaw would be. A thick visor that lightly glowed blue seemed to stare at all of them, taking them in, assessing. Daring them to try something, but promising pain if they did. It was impressive, intimidating and eerie.

There was a sucking wind rushing through as the pressure changed in the room, and over the sound you could just make it out as the youngest guard there, who had been waiting for this his whole shift whispered, “Holy shit.”

The Nomad didn’t seem to visibly move, and yet you could sense that his attention flickered to the young man, but just as Bradley started to think he imagined it, the man in front of them addressed him.

“You asked for us. I’m here for the job.”