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The funny thing about the apocalypse is that it may have been a blessing in disguise.
His old body had been weak. Sure, he had been well-trained. Best in the force. Finest officer in the county. But he getting on in years. He was on his last day before retirement before that whole apocalypse went down. And that’s when his body had changed. Green skin. Gills and fins. Teeth that could easily pierce through flesh. In this new body, he felt 40 years younger. He could roll like nobody’s business. Swimming felt as easy as walking. He felt more alive than he had been in years.
And in this crazy new world, he had friends. He could almost call them “family”. And in a weird, screwed-up way, they had almost become something like that to him.
But life wasn’t easy. Medical supplies were scarce. Maggots were their primary food source. Days were spent fending off bandit raids. And their only hope for survival was a legend that may or may not have existed. The Nuclear Throne.
All they had were legends. Stories passed down from survivor to survivor. Word of mouth. Many had attempted the journey to find the Nuclear Throne, for their own reasons. Some wanted the power to rule. Some wanted the power to protect. And some wanted to go for the hell of it.
Nobody who found the Throne had ever returned alive.
But he had a feeling that he and his friends were different. They were scrappy and strange but the apocalypse had given them a second chance at a new life. He wasn’t the old cop on the force anymore. That man’s identity had left him when the bombs arrived.
He was Fish. And he was ready to see if the legends were true.
Fläshyn.