“While Blastshot was much defamed in her time for killing the Monster Volcanosaurus after its devastating rampage in season XXXIV of UMBA, particularly by then agent of the creative Branch Trend, later historians have treated her more kindly. Today the confiscation of her Monster and her subsequent demise at its claws is seen as the cruel machinations of a corrupt corporation intent on making an example of her.
The fall of the Network was associated with a number of high profile Network Monster escapes, most prominently Gnosis but also the Monster Blastdigger. Some say Senior Arena Technician Razor was seen heading towards the Monster’s cage with a crowbar, but such allegations have never had a shred of evidence to support them.
The fact that the recognisable Monster was later seen out in the Wasteland alongside a lone sniper has only fueled the rumors that Blastshot survived. Of course the evidence to the contrary is tremendous: thousands would swear blind they saw her torn limb from limb, a Network autopsy report confirmed the remains were Blastshot’s. More likely the Monster found a new Wasteland wanderer to be it’s master. Still, to this very day the popular ‘zine Off The Record maintains that Blastshoot lives, and it was all a set up.”
- Excerpt from Legends of The Wasteland, by Relic
You sit alone by the fire. It’s been three years since you left Bastion. It’s not a decision you regret. Things out here are simpler. More honest. Not to say it’s been easy. Life in the Wasteland is never easy. But it is worth it. You do help people out here. Protect them.
You wince as you stand up to get some more kindling for the fire. That had been a close one. Good job you were there, though. That tribe never would have stood a chance otherwise, big Monster like coming out of the tar lake spitting fire. You dealt with it, like you always do, and they were grateful, like they always are. And then you moved on. You’re gathering quite the collection of scars.
There’s a scaping out in the darkness. You lean yourself back against the rock and draw your trusty rifle. Waiting to get a good shot. You see the dark shape silhouetted against the sky, the glittering of the reflected firelight off scaly hide.
You almost drop your gun.
The Monster edges towards you, hesitant. Scenting the air. You can see it has changed. It looks like it’s seen as many fights as you have. A wicked claw mark down one side of its face has left it with a milky dead eye, and something has taken a chunk out of one its long ears. Its hide is criss crossed with scars and its claws dusty from years of long hard walking through the Wastes. But you still recognise it. It's still Blastdigger.
You reach out a hand and lay it against the Monster’s head.
“Oh, what did they do to you?” You whisper.
The closes its one good eye and nuzzles into your palm. It shifts its bulk and curls up against your feet, basking in the warmth of the fire.
Maybe not so alone.