- Doomsday - Volume One: Gods and Monsters

Chapter 74: Siege

[5 Days later...]

"Alright you useless greenhorns, over the last few days I've had the displeasure of trying to turn you all into true warriors, unfortunately, it seems the bar was set too high." Lobo shouted aloud, his voice strong and unchanging, standing at the head of a large crowd. Before him, tens of Junkers laid tired and weary upon the course sand, bruised and battered, the collective symphony of moans and groans carried upon the warm breeze, this was the result of less than a week from Lobo's training regiment. The biker held his eyes closed, arms firmly crossed across his torso, releasing an irritated sigh, perhaps he had gone too far, but the enemy they faced was seemingly far stronger than anything they had come across so far, and they had taken on the full might of Overwatch. However, the Junkers hadn't thrown in the towel just yet, their conviction was admirable, as they continually rose from the floor again and again, despite their wobbly knees and aching backs, this was a struggle for survival. Soon, Junker after Junker followed suit, slowly standing, ready to continue training, with hard faces and a flicker of hope shining bright.

Lobo let out a small chuckle, the cigar in his mouth soon burned to but a stub, he respected the drive and will of the wastelanders, "Alright, enough for today. Get rested, we start again tomorrow..." Some looked disappointed, but the majority were thrilled, escaping quickly back towards the tall Junker walls, much larger and thicker than they had been when they had first ventured towards the desert metropolis. It was surprising to see how much progress had been made since they arrived, trucks and cars lining up, one after the other, outside the city, they had built quite a large force. Some equipped with turrets, other spiked or wielding battering rams, they were ready for a fight. The large influx of wastelanders was also notable, hundreds of people coming from far and wide ready to enlist and join the war effort, others hadn't been convinced the Yowie had truly returned, but were easily convinced. A large group awaited outside the city walls, the vetting process of which hadn't existed prior to their arrival, had been strengthened to ensure no Mongul sympathisers sneaked their way inside.

Stone's forces would be arriving at the city within the next few days, receiving the call, assembling all their forces, while not as substantial as other warlords, held a large amount of vehicles and weapons. It was sure to be a tense meeting between Stone and Mason, but they had to put aside their differences for the greater good, otherwise they would have no territory to rule over in the end. In all honesty, Lobo wasn't that bothered with the regional politics of the Outback, it wasn't all that important to the biker, but what was important to him was purely fighting and laying waste to their enemies. He had heard the stories from the Junkers he trained talking about the Mongul and his Warzoon army, a green horde that devours all it comes across, sweeping through and devastating with ruthlessness and efficiency. And while they told their stories with fear and horror, it only bolstered Lobo's resolve to start fighting, he couldn't wait, not having had a good fight in a while.

In his head he envisioned himself decimating waves of enemies, wrestling people to the floor, decapitating foes, disembowelling soldiers as if it were a red celebration, holding a goofy smile, daydreaming. Yet, he hadn't noticed a thin dust cloud in the distance. Squinting, Lobo focused on the object in the distance, wavy from the heat, it was hard to make out exactly, but with the speed it was racing towards the city, it wouldn't take long to figure out. After a few minutes, the remains of a car soon swerved up beside the biker, spurting out smoke, its engine backfiring every few moments, as if it were to die any moment. Along the side, bullet holes and large gashes tore across the metal hull, as if it had been attacked in some ambush, while large parts of the back had been torn off entirely, with scorch marks adorning the rear.

Lobo raised a brow, confused, as other Junkers soon followed, racing to defend the Yowie's follower, the crowd of Junker's standing outside casted suspicious glances over, wary of some foreign threat. Soon, a young man clambered out from within the driver's seat, blood and sweat coating his entire frame, a small red river trickling down his forehead, stopping at a closed eye. His clothes were torn, or more torn then a regular wastelander's outfit usually was, with black marks and red patches staining the attire, at his side, a pistol sat in a weathered holster, it's latched unlocked, most likely having been used recently. The Junkertown garrison ran to the wastelander, wielding spears, swords and rifles, pointing them threateningly at the stranger, "What the hell is going on here?!" Lobo shouted aloud, pushing past the soldiers.