Last episode:
Bloodied, beaten, battered, and bruised- he lay in a heap of flesh. A mere shadow of a man. Granted, there had been samaritan hands which had lifted his bleeding body from the red stained grasses and plains. That once bitter rival in a war just as fierce had granted him aid. Slayer would not be forgetten. Once even, Invader had plunged an arrow into the heart of a barbarian prepared to finish off the old, dying man. Sora had defended him briefly as well... And delphinus- he had known delphinus. Most of those responsible for downing the pitiful figure to a half life were predictable enemies. Of them all the worst sting was Kiza. Kiza. Kiza. But he would not cry, no. Not even a sniffle or feeling of hatred towards that once dear compatriart who had wronged him so. It's not that he wouldn't allow Kiza the satisfaction of pity or hard feelings, no- spite had nothing to do with it. One thing and one thing only kept him going and kept him alive and kept him from screaming out to each of his enemies cries of damnation and kept him from ending it all with a suicidal act. Only one thing. It wasn't logical.
And now, for the continuing saga:
He stood staring into the gaping maw with its many rows of teeth. And the echoes! Oh, the echoes of the many screams within, the acidic enzymes lining that wicked esophagus which reverberated the shrieks of pain wailed from the bellows of the beasts gut as its poor victims were digested, haunted him.
‘It,’ the ghastly aberration, was the spirit of the snipers- those soulless hearts searching for those weakened warriors to prey upon. But the sinful pet of the opportunists would not find easy prey in this one.
As a lone figure, he was alone in challenging the lonely, loony worm. That hell-spawn! The man’s name was Spock, his profession was survival. No more, no less. “There’s silence, creature of darkness. Do you hear it? The battlefield may groan its groans but we have stared each other in the eyes without growl or taunt for what seems to stretch throughout infinity. Who shall make the first move?”
ROOOAAAR! Spock was thrown on his back from the forcefulness of the bawl. By the time the man recovered, his ears still ringing, the maggot-monster was already advancing. “It has to be at least 1100 pounds! What good are these?” He was referring to the dual pistols that he wielded- a 9mm and a .45
“Shooting it can’t hurt, I guess. Though I sincerely hope that it does.” Still lying on his side, Spock whipped out the guns and began unleashing lead wildly. ‘Sure, this double style is horribly inaccurate…’ thought Spock. ‘But with such a large target, does it matter?’ Boom-bang-kaboom-bang-boom. By the time both clips were expended, he realized what little effect his weapons were having on his adversary.
‘Keep calm. Keep logical.’ Betraying not the fear in his heart, Spock stumbled to his feet as the monster leapt into the air and came back down upon him, mouth aimed to engulf. The worm hit the ground face first and burrowed into it leaving a crater from the impact and a perfectly round hole from its dig.
By all accounts, by every probability, Spock should have died then just as he should have died many times earlier during the battle. Instead, he had been able to dive and roll out of the way just before he was sent to the graveyard. Rumble, rumble went the ground. ‘It is still under there… somewhere. You can’t escape it. Even if you murder a killer, its soul returns. It will fight all the harder. The spirit of the scavenger, those terrible vultures, change the outcome of the battle even from beyond the grave.
‘They continue to play the game. Flop the rules on their sides. And ugh- look. They made me waste two clips. How many are left? One-two-three-four-five… Not enough. Not NEARLY enough.’
((If I die, the story ends, so you know. I’ll try and update bi-daily.))
