In the name of the twisted,
In the image of the deformed,
In the fury of the atom,
In the glow of the bomb,
The new age arose.
So goes one of the canticles of the Cult of Doom, a group of wackos who think the Apocalypse heralded a new breed of humanity. How did this come to pass? Good question. As with most cults, it centered around one certifiable nutjob who managed to convince a bunch of other nutjobs that he was some kind of prophet.
The story began in 2083 with a wanderer named Silas Rasmussen. He was once a young physics professor at MIT. Unfortunately for the rest of the world, he survived the Apocalypse and staggered around for a few years, trying to get over the whole “the world just got stepped on by the Four Horsemen” concept. When Silas finally stopped wandering, he realized he’d picked up a fast-moving case of the “glows.” That’s radiation sickness to you and me, friend. The former professor shrugged his shoulders, decided to make the best of it, and walked smack into the nearest radioactive ruins he could find—in this case, Las Vegas, Nevada.
There Silas found a huge tribe of mutants. Most were bald, missing teeth, deformed, or deranged from the hot zone they called home, but they weren’t dying. After a tense first encounter, Silas was welcomed into the community and quickly learned that some of the mutants even had incredible powers. In fact, many of them could absorb radiation as a tasty after-dinner snack to supplement their normal diet of, well, mystery meats.
Silas decided being a mutant with incredible powers was better than being a glowing corpse, so he started experimenting on his new friends. After a few short months (and a few secret dissections), Silas developed powers of his own. Maybe he’s a lunatic, maybe he’s deranged from rad sickness, or maybe—just maybe—he’s right, but Silas believes mutants are the forerunners of a new race—the next evolution of humanity.
Oh, and he’s more than a little mad as well.