Midwestern Brothers-

In the dead of the night, a shadowy figure moved about a dimly lit lab, illuminated only by the iridescent glow of the chemicals and other such substances displayed across the room in test tubes of various size and shape. Dressed in a lab-coat, gloves, and a mask, the figure moved quickly about the room, mixing test tubes together and obtaining various reactions in the process. All the while, referring back to a chalkboard in the back of the room, which was filled completely with formulations and equations written in white chalk.

As the moonlight shown in from a closed upper window, the figure in the lab continued its work in the dark. Finally, the figure paused over a metal table with two vials placed on top of it, one of which contained a dark green liquid, while the other contained a bright blue one. Slowly, and carefully, the figure poured the two substances together, and after a few moments, the desired affect appeared to have been achieved, as a devilish smile appeared on the figure’s shadowy face underneath the protective mask.

“I’ve done it….” The figure whispered audibly to itself, a low and excited chuckle emanated throughout the lab as the figure began laughing, louder and louder. Caught up completely in its own success.

One Year Later- Outside of Vault Zero

“Barnaky preserve us.”

High Inquisitor William Traven stood before a pile of bodies, stacked higher than he stood tall. All of whom were victims of the plague: their bodies deformed and mutated, and their faces contorted in animalistic rage. The plague had been devastating the Midwest for the past year, and these poor souls were only the most recent of the dead that had perished in the town surrounding Vault 0.

Around him, more robust individuals wearing biological protection masks picked up more bodies and threw them up on the pile. Stacking it higher and higher, Traven himself, partly because of the dangers of infection, and partly because of the stench, also wore a protective mask. His black robes flapped in the slight breeze which had picked up. While his face was obscured, it bore an expression of absolute anguish. His people were dying.

“Barnaky save us.”

In front of Traven, one of his Inquisitors was performing a religious rite, praying for the deceased as he read from an old Midwestern Brotherhood tome. The religion of the Brotherhood was obscure and complex, but in these dark times it proved to be their only source of comfort.

“Barnaky deliver us.”

The Inquisitor turned to Traven, his own face covered by a gas mask as well, “My Lord,” he called out, “It is done.”

Traven gave a nod, and then motioned to several individuals standing off to the side of the pile, “Do it then,” he said somberly.

Slowly, the individuals produced torches, and walked towards the pile, throwing them onto the bodies which quickly ignited the flammable substance which had been poured on the pile. Traven and the Inquisitor stood back and watched, as the bodies of the dead were engulfed in flames.

“And may they find comfort in death,” Traven said as he watched the flames raged in front of him, the red light flickered as a reflection on his mask, “For here, there is none.”

Quickly, Traven whipped around, and began walking back to Vault Zero’s massive fa?ade. Followed shortly by the Inquisitor.

Inside Vault Zero- Inner Sanctum

Now inside the massive complex that was Vault Zero, the very heart and soul of the Midwestern Brotherhood, Traven walked down a wide and high-vaulted hallway, lined by Paladin-Honor Guards, the personal protectors of Emperor Barnaky.

At the end of the hallway, he reached a large double door, which was quickly opened by two of the guardsmen posted on either side. As he entered the chamber of Baranky, he walked a few steps, and then quickly fell to his knees, prostrating himself before a large jar of bubbling liquid, surrounded by massive super-computer processors. Inside, a single brain floated, connected to various wires: Barnaky himself.

“My lord,” Traven said, “Everything has been prepared. My units are ready to depart for the abominable Mutant lands. Our crusade needs only your blessing, and we will leave immediately.”

Nothing came from Barnaky for a few moments, before finally, a deep and slightly distorted voice emanated from the direction of the jar,

“My trusted servant,” Barnaky said, “My blessing is yours. Go and find the source of this dreaded plague, this terrible parasite. Crush the mutates, and save our people. I place not only my trust in you, my High-Inquisitor, but my trust and faith in all my men which go with you. I know they will serve me as best they are able. I can ask no more.”

“Thank you my lord,” Traven replied as he stood up and began backing out of the chamber, his head bowed, “We will not fail you.”

As the doors to Barnaky’s chamber closed, Traven turned immediately to a guardsmen standing next to him, the commander of Barnaky's Honorguard, Paladin-Commander Hale,

“Gather your chosen squad, Paladin-Commander. Inform them that they are to meet me as soon as possible in the hanger bay. We are departing immediately. I'm going to find Inquisitor Truax.”

With that, Traven quickly walked back down the arched hallway, back out from the Inner Sanctum, and left in the direction of the so-called "Palace of Justice", the headquarters of the Midwestern Inquisition within Vault Zero.