I watched as my father had been executed before my eyes for standing up to the bandits who had invaded our home. He had fought tooth and nail to protect me, but numbers can overwhelm, and a gun was soon put to his head, a loud bang, like that of thunder, and he was gone. I watched as his blood flowed upon the floor, as his soul left his body and his eyes grew dark. I fell to my knees, tears ready to fall, but I had no time to mourn. The killer of my father was before me, now holding a knife to my throat. I balled my fists and threw him a glare of pure hatred and bloodlust, he held one to match but still faltered, perhaps not expecting to see such savagery in the eyes of a thirteen year old boy. He backed away and I stood to my feet, anger flooded my senses and I lifted a fire prod from our stove, walking slowly toward the now wary bandit. I stood tall, or as tall as I could, 5' in stature and a moderate amount of muscle,my fathers blood spattered across my face and in my white hair, I must have seemed quite the sight. He held the more suitable weapon but knew that my reach was greater and he'd have to be careful to leave unscathed. he jabbed forward aiming for my chest, I straightened my arm pointing the fire prod between his forth and fifth rib, and watched as his own momentum drove the iron into his heart.

 

    He looked down as if in disbelief and fell over, coughing up blood until he drew his last breath. Footsteps now approached me from behind and I turned to see an older man, wearing a beard that had begun to turn grey. He saw my fathers corpse first then the bandits who I had killed, his blood still upon my hands. He sighed and knelt, then said something unexpected, "Poor child, you are barely 13 summers young and have had your first taste of blood. I cannot let you loose now as you may do something regrettable." he held out a hand and at first I thought against it, but being the naive child I was I took his hand and sealed my fate.

 

    He did not kill me, although I thought he would, He took me outside to the other raiders where at first they seemed confused but then relaxed, one stepped forth, "And who's this?" is was a woman's voice,

 

"The man who lived here had a son, He is a bit old to join us but he killed Talon and so we need to keep up numbers at the camp." the old man spoke, as if weary,

 

    Muttering erupted from the crowd, "That boy killed talon?" so many questions were voiced, then I opened my mouth and calmly spoke, holding an even gaze upon the bandits. "He came in my house and killed my father, I took a fire prod and pierced his heart with it, if any here can say they wouldn't do the same if their home was invaded I'd invite you to do so now."

 

    They were all shocked into silence, and the old man spoke once more, "As you can see the boy has a fire in his heart, I think He'll be a fine addition to our ranks in years to come, do any oppose?"

 

    None stepped forward, perhaps still in shock that I had brought an end to their comrades life. I now found it hard to think of my recently departed father. He would be missed but in the time since mom died he had not been kind. teaching me to survive should he pass. Now that the time has come I wish he had taught me more. He never told me how to cope with the loss or how to deal with taking another human life, always simply saying, "If it means your life or theirs, take theirs." So now I looked forward at what was now to be my new life, at those whom I would come to call friends, even family.

 

    Now months have passed and I am well known throughout the bandit camp. Many call me Demon out of fear or distrust. Most are unnerved by my mutation, and I by theirs. At birth mutations occur based upon the level of radiation we were exposed to. Good side we've adapted to most radiation levels. My mutation was minor in use to my knowledge but is unnerving to those who speak with me, My irises are not the common brown or green or blue, they are a shade of crimson with flecks of gold, combined with my white hair and unusually good looks, some called me a demon for sport, upon hearing of my recent kill the jokes turned to a serious rumor. and it took a while to become friends with some of the outcasts in the group. The blacksmith for instance, I had to do a bit of scavenging but after getting him some good iron scrap he cracked and we became actual friends. He gives me discounts on repairs and does special projects for me for free if I provide the materials as he is always trying to sharpen his craft.

 

    On my usual rounds to the smithy I heard the talk of to of the bandits, "yea she is still out there, freaky bitch, wonder if her and the demon know each other?"

 

    "That's a stupid thing to say if I've ever heard one," the other counters, "I doubt he'd ever wander down to the south part of the camp, only the true psychos go down there."

 

    "Yeah you've got a point..." he sighs, "the demon would never have a need to go anywhere near the phoenix." the conversation stops as one sees me and I make a mental note to look into this with the smith.

    

    I went to the smith as usual bartered for a bit with the scraps I found then inquired the question that had gnawed at me since I had heard it, "Any chance you can gift me a bit of information?"

 

    "About what boy?" the smith smiled,

 

    "The one they call 'Phoenix'." I replied looking him dead in the eyes so he wouldn't brush me off because of my age, which he had a habit of doing,

 

    His smile disappeared and he sighed, "I know that look, You won't take no for an answer in this one," he sighed again, "The phoenix is a girl about your age we took in a few years back. her mutation gave her an odd ability, pyrokinesis."

 

    "So she can control fire, that explains the name," I pause, "Now why is it I heard a few of the crew speaking about her in disgust just as they do to me?"

 

    "Because she can't always control it, like everyone else in the southern camp, she can't control their abilities." he said sadly, as if it pained him.

 

    "That's all I need to know, thank you." I say and complete our transaction, walking out of the smithy and heading south,

 

    The walk to the southern half of the camp was a short one, seeing as none stop me to talk or care of my passing. The north and south is divided by an 8 foot wall of scrap metal, The gate held one guard and upon my approach he bid me stop,

 

    "Why do you want into the Southern Camp, Demon?" he asked, seeming disgusted,

 

    "A personal matter, and I may have to pass many times in the future." I didn't bother with pleasantries to the guard who was more than likely just there to look out for trouble not stop passage, "Get used to it."

 

    He looked at me for a moment and sighed, stepping to the side, "Be careful, a few of them are as bad as the rumors say, the rest just want to be left alone."

 

    I walked through the small gate and stepped into the Southern Camp, looking around I noticed a few people looking at me, but upon meeting their gaze they nodded their heads and went on with their day, perhaps by appearance alone judging me as one of their own. I walked to one who looked a bit older than me, He stood a foot taller than I did and was more well rounded, his skin was darker, he held a piercing green gaze, and was still staring at me. So I put out a hand, "hello my name is..." I paused, I had not been called anything but 'Demon' for so long that I had forgotten, "huh, I really don't have one, people in the camp have just called me a demon since I got here."

 

    He looked at me skeptically then shrugged, "I'm Salamander, or at least that's the name they gave me." he gestured to the wall and shook my hand. I could feel that his skin was overly warm to the touch, explaining a partial reason for the name.

 

    "A pleasure," I smiled lightly, finally meeting someone who had yet to shun me, "now perhaps I can finally walk down a street and not be called a fucking antichrist...." I sighed the last part, joking with myself, then continued, "I'm looking for the one those jackasses call 'Phoenix'."

 

    His eyes narrowed, "What business do you have with my sister?"

 

    "No business, but I'd like to meet the one who seems to be outcast more than I am." I said sliding my hands in my pockets and looking him dead in the eyes, where most look away when I stare at them, he did not falter, I then felt something in my throat and coughed. To my surprise a small flame escaped my lips and my eyes opened wide, "Well that's new..."

 

    "Oh you're an adapter," he smiles and eases up, "That explains it."

 

    "A what now?" I asked unsure as to what he was talking about,

 

    "An adapter is someone who 'adapts' their body to the environment around them and in some cases such as yours can mimic abilities of those they come into physical contact with," he explains, "I guess you don't know since you're still young."

 

    "Gonna have to learn to control that later..." I mutter and shake my head, "So can I meet her, I can assure you I'll keep my hands to myself."

 

    "Sure," he chuckles, "but she might not"

 

    He doesn't explain what he meant and instead starts walking farther south, I just shrugged and followed until we arrived at a small shack. It was mostly comprised of sheet metal that had been sloppily welded together. I could tell they did it themselves as Salamander looked at it with pride, "this is it, ain't she a beaut?" he said sarcastically,

 

    "I live on black mesa in a small cave." I said glancing at him, "your house looks like a safe haven."

 

    "You're not kidding are you?" he looked at me worriedly, "You do know there are rabid wolves up there right?"

 

    "How do you think I eat?" I walked to the shack and was about to knock when I though better of it and stepped to the side,"You had better go first, to avoid complications."

 

    He paused and looked at me wide eyed, then shook it off and opened the door, not bothering to knock, "Ren I'm Home!" 

 

    A redhead Just shorter than me and slightly rugged looking barrels out of the shadows and tackles him, nearly knocking him down, and a lot of laughing ensued from the two of them. I remained straight-faced and, looked away, upon noticing me Ren seemed nervous and backed away farther inside the shack, "Who is he?" a meek voice comes from her,

 

    "She doesn't trust people who don't smile," he said scratching his head, "This is, well he only has his alias, they call him Demon."

 

    "Why do they call you demon?" She asked stepping out a bit,

 

    I sighed and looked at her in the eyes, yet it did not unnerve her, and so I spoke, "They first called me Demon because my eyes make me look like hell-spawn, then they learned of the way I was 'conducted' into the camp..."

 

    They both stared at me waiting for me to continue and so I explained, how they had invaded my home and killed my father in-front of me, how I took up the nearest object and drove it through Talons heart. They both remained stoic until I had finished, then as I ended my tale they looked at me no different than they had at first, minus the fact that Ren seemed less anxious.I swallowed and breathed out slowly, trying to cast out the pain that I felt in my chest, pain I had no time to face.

 

    "You protected your home, I would've done the same thing." Salamander said smiling, "No judgment will be passed on you here,"

 

    I sighed what had to be relief, "Thank you, that means a lot to me,"

 

    "Of course," He said nodding, "Now I believe we skipped basic introductions, 'Demon' meet 'Phoenix'," he said both our names in mocking tones, "or as I call her, Ren."

 

    "Why do you have to say it like that?" Ren pouted, "I like my name,"

 

    I watched as they got caught up in exchanging a long contest of banter that made me nostalgic of times when I was younger and my father was kinder, and and the world didn't seem so dark.

 

    "Hey he's smiling!" Ren said pointing, and to my surprise I was, "He has a nice smile."

 

   She then did something unexpected, "Ren Don't!" but it was too late, she tackled me as she had done to her brother earlier, and now as she was laughing Salamander pulled her off and I sighed, I lifted my hand to my face to rub the bridge of my nose to relieve stress. I then realized my hand was on fire...

 

    "well that's not good..." I said as I clenched my first and slowly let it extinguish, "That's why he didn't want you to do that, apparently I'm an adapter..."

 

    "Oh no..." Ren said as her eyes went wide, "I'm so sorry,"

 

    "It's fine, I just need to do my best not to catch on fire again..." I sigh, I only wanted to meet the one who seemed to be talked about almost as mush as I am but I can't see why."

 

    "It's because of what happened when we were brought here, She saw our mother die and went berserk, Burned down our entire village..." Salamander trailed off as if remembering the event.

 

    I had made real friends, and although Ren seemed to be a little childish I suppose that's normal for our age and I'm the odd one. We had talked for many hours and I seemed to have found a sanctuary from the pain and judgment of the camp. This marked the beginning of my new life, this meeting would guarantee my survival, and make life more than simple survival but about a sliver of happiness to cling to. This was the end of my old life and the beginning of a new one.