Lupo was cut from the same cloth like all Raider inhabitants of the Capital Wasteland. He started off as a child of two refugees from the harsh cold of the Erie Stretch who had moved down South in order to find greener pastures. Unfortunately for them and their only son, they would become fair game for a group of Raiders who threw them in a hole with a large group of captives.
His parents and the victims tried to hold on to what little hope they had left while their captors threw down rotten meat scraps and would occasionally fire a few rounds into the hole all the while laughing and jeering.
Lupo would be one of the few remaining victims left after two weeks had passed and his parents had died from malnutrition. His mind shattered after all the time in the hole, he would start fighting for the rotting food scraps with the few remaining others until he alone was left. When the Raiders stopped throwing down more food, the child turned to the corpses as nourishment.
Eventually a few of the Raiders dragged the malnourished little boy out of the hole, and would have decided to sell him into slavery, had the boy not lost his sanity. Emerging from the hole as wild as an animal, the little boy bit out the eyes of one of the tougher Raiders holding him, and managed to stab another in the heart.
Intrigued by his ferocity and spirit, the current Raider chieftain had the former prisoner cleaned up, and made into one of them.
Climbing his way to the top of the Raider hierarchy, Lupo would later kill the Raider chieftain in a duel to assert his dominance over the group and eventually became the leader of his own band of raiders whom he dubbed, “Marauders”, and soon the Capital Wasteland would know and fear his name.
Overtime he started making enemies with other Raider bands whom he would eventually conquer and absorb into his own tribe, his initiations for any aspiring Raider willing to lend their gun for Lupo would either endure a beatdown by Baseball Bats and hatchets, taking an overdose of drugs, or going into the same hole where Lupo had his transformation.
Admiring his reflection in one of the very few mirrors his Marauders had managed to scavenge, Lupo ran a finger over the left side of his face that had received heavy scarring from a Molotov cocktail. Although he was younger than most of the raiders in his band, Lupo was undoubtedly the more stronger and sinewy than all of them. His youth had also gave him an extra sparkle to his eyes, which were a brilliant green like the small patches of grass dotting the wasteland; many a wastelander and raider met their deaths through the deceit and cruelty hidden behind the seemingly friendly eyes. Everyone in his band also took note to also be on the lookout for Lupo’s mood swings, meaning while they’re leader was friendly and smiling one moment could snap and sometime even kill an member of his own crew.
He also dressed more regularly than the rest of his crew, who normally wore scraps of clothing scavenged before and after the Great War. Lupo wore a pair of pre-war jeans which he had modified to hold his Desert Eagle, and a red tank top with a bandolier.
In short, he was the very image of a post-apocalyptic anarchist.
Turning to his victim whom he buried neck-deep into the ground, Lupo giggled at his prisoner’s struggles to free herself from the predicament she was in. She was a rare find, much more than any of the VIP’s he had been assigned to hunt down by Eulogy, and he hoped to capture every moment with his prisoner.
He had spent some time tracking her down at first, but eventually managed to track her target near the ruins of Bethesda on the shore of the still waters of the Potomac. He and his crew had managed to subdue her before finding soft earth where they would have their “fun” with the captive.
“What do you say, eh Flay? Is the camera good?” Lupo spoke to his subordinate behind him without taking his eyes off his special prisoner.
“Yes, boss,” the grizzled Raider behind him was setting up an old pre-war recorder on its stand, “Just let me know when you want to start filming.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Lupo muttered, “Just be sure to get the bitch in the center of the shot, I don’t need another dead cameraman.”
Lupo could hear Flay swallow nervously, “Yes boss, the camera is centered, just gonna need you out of the shot to start filming.”
Lupo sauntered to the right side of the recorder and waited patiently as the old relic booted up. Looking over at his prisoner, he gave her one of his famous grins, “You ready for the pretty camera, Sparky? This is your big chance for the big screen, you’ll be the next big thing out here.”
“Alright boss!” Flay spoke giving Lupo the thumbs up, “Film is rolling, get set . . . action!”
Lupo waited for a moment, allowing the camera film to catch the first few seconds his victim struggling to get free from the sand trap. The psychotic Raider than leaned into the recorder’s view, and gave a cheerful smile.
“Hello wasteland, this is Lupo . . .” the Raider glanced at the victim buried neck-deep into the earth and looked back at the camera lens, “ . . . and this is another of my torture shows. Only we have a special guest today. She comes from some far off land full of honey and rainbows, and has no idea what the hell she is in for,” Lupo shook his head in mock pity.
One of Lupo’s henchmen handed him a cattle prod, the maniac Raider grinned gleefully as he turned it on watching it spark with electricity. He turned towards his torture victim, drinking in the newfound terror and desperation coming from her eyes.
Lupo then looked back at the camera, the grin still on his face, “Be sure to get a close up on her face, Flay. The picture on the camera is old and fucked, right? It’s not everyday that I get to torture a fucking purple horse.”
Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Equestria and proprietor of Ponyville’s Golden Oak Library, whimpered pitifully as a few sparks fizzled out from the severed stump of what was once her horn, and could only watch the cattle prod coming closer . . .