In the year 2070 a deadly virus spread across the world like hellfire, but while the entire planet was focused on a cough that was infecting a few hundred thousand, a more deadly disease was infecting billions completely unnoticed. While every news outlet and conspiracy theory website were preoccupied with a disease that made people physically sick, a much more contagious and dangerous problem was rising.
What was later dubbed as "Sanity" via the internet, went unnoticed until it was too late. Infecting the minds of millions, causing city-wide riots and disaster, eventually causing a complete collapse of society as we knew it.
It didn't take long for Sanity to infect a vast majority of the population, throwing the entire world into chaos, governments crumbled quickly as most of the world leaders fell to the disease.
For a decade everything was madness. Riots started all over the globe, some last months as people panicked, unsure of who was being affected by Sanity and who were just taking advantage of the worlds current state to cause mayhem.
Eventually, the storm calmed across the world and silence fell, but for some, that was worse. No one was able to restore order, trust becoming the rarest resource of them all.
When it was evident that no one could trust anyone long enough to return to normal civilization, people started going out on their own, scavenging and surviving as best they could with what they could find. Some people went off alone, preferring to only look out for themselves while others grouped up and tried to regain some sort of structure, creating small settlements and factions and with the majority of the population being a victim of Sanity, many groups were small, barely reaching above twenty people. Except for one.
This faction, in particular, had one goal. They were known as the Restoration, whose main objective was to "restore" the population. They focused on repopulation and most other factions tried to avoid them due to their barbaric practices. However with they're desire to bring back the "old times" they were quickly sweeping what was left of the world.
But with more people rejecting their agenda, it wasn't long before they started taking people against their will. They targeted smaller groups at first, never more than four people at a time, and never anyone heavily armed. They didn't want to lose people after all.
Their leader, Baxter, was a large man, a think untamed beard that he let grow down his chest. His black hair was receding in a horrific V shape, his large ears, one of them missing a chunk, stuck out from the side of his square-shaped head. He was almost always dressed the same, like a uniform, but more likely because of the lack of clothing that would fit his robust size, a dirty white tank top, a black leather jacket that was torn and ripped from fights and travelling, and mud-covered blue jeans with holes in his knees. His black hiking boots were almost always coated in something brown, either mud or dried blood it was hard to tell.
His followers admired him with an almost cult mentality, at least most of them did. Others were too scared of him to protest, so he wasn't accustomed to people disobeying him, which he was surprised now when the young women in front of him were refusing to do as he told them.
"I said, get on your knees, bitch," He growled, his left eye twitching with frustration. When the dark-haired one didn't move he cursed again under his breath and threw his hand across her face. A second later she turned her head back to glare at him, blood dripping from her mouth. She spat it at his feet, staining his already dirty boot. She didn't kneel.
"Fuck off. We aren't going with you psychos!" She snapped back, her hand reaching out to shield the other woman behind her, a redhead. Both women were slim, decent looking and seemed fairly healthy. Perfect for breeding with Baxter's men back home.
"Now that isn't very lady-like language now is it?" He cooed sickly, the men behind him waiting for orders. These women were coming with him, but he liked to play with the feisty ones. He enjoyed breaking them.
"Get lost, asshole. We are leaving. End of discussion," the dark-haired woman looked ready to go for this throat but Baxter knew she wouldn't. She was unarmed and he had an extra hundred pounds on her easily. Not to mention the collection of armed men behind him.
"Now, now, now," He chuckled at her, his eyes leering down her body as he spoke and he smirked at the way she recoiled from his eyes. "That is no way to talk to your future Baby Daddy is it?"
He could see her swallow the bile in her throat and she took a step back, her hand still shielding her red-haired friend who was quietly looking between him and her protector, fear obvious on her tiny heart-shaped face.
"Hate to break it to you, dickhead, but I'm not interested in men. Now let us go!" The girl's face reddened with anger as she growled at him, her eyes flashed towards the men behind him.
"Ah. You're on of those," he grimaced, clicking his tongue off the roof of his mouth. "Well I hate to break it to you," He quoted as he took a large step towards them both, malice in his eyes as he closed the distance between them. "But there is no room for dykes in this world. We, as a people, need to focus on bringing back this place to its former glory." He leaned down into her face, his hot, disgusting breath making her turn her head away from him, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him.
The girl squirmed in his grasp, her hands flying up to tug at his wrist, but he was stronger than she was and her attempts didn't even phase him. He watched as the anger in her eyes slowly melted into fear, her eyes now mirroring those of her partner, who was now cowering behind her dark-haired lover.
Without warning he lifted his knee into the woman's stomach, letting go of her face so she could curl over in pain. Her dark hair fell over her face as she bent over coughing wildly. Baxter leaned back and rolled his shoulders, still not convinced he had delivered his message, he pulled her upright by her hair and threw a fist into her face, watching as blood poured from her nose.
"Now listen to me closely. You will do as you are told, or your little friend here," He nodded in the redhead's direction, who was now standing silently crying, her slender, hands covering her mouth. "-Is going to going to get hell of a lot worse than that. Understand?"
The woman nodded reluctantly in his hand and he grinned, baring his rotting teeth.
"Good. Now. Get in the truck. Quietly," He said sternly as he let her hair go and watched her fall to the ground in pain, the red-haired woman immediately rushing to her side.
He stood with his large arms folded across his chest as the two women were herded into the back of his recovered chevvy truck.
Two healthy fairly physically blessed women in one day was a win in his book.