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#Post#: 2294--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Freedom War
By: guest121 Date: March 29, 2018, 1:43 pm
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Though the atmosphere was humid with the ashes of the once
expansive camp, the cool mountain air chilled everything
sufficiently. Yet, sweat poured down Xander’s neck and from his
bodily cavities, drenching him in a solution of salty fluids. He
attempted to firmly grasped the metal protrusion that erupted
from Gwen’s chest, the jagged edges digging waves of pain into
his palms, his profuse sweating hindering his efforts. He tried
yanking once, his hands slipping on the now slick object, unable
to find purchase despite its roughness. He tried again, this
time placing his hands closer to the base of the object, yanking
upward with his full, though exhausted, might. His neck bulged
with the strain, his hands sliding upwards still, until
something gave with a wet, disgusting squelch that unsettled his
stomach. With a final pop, the metal object escaped from Gwen’s
chest, Xander’s expelled force causing him to fall upon his rear
onto the rough, metal chassis of the burned wreck of a
helicopter, indubitably bruising his tailbone for the next few,
sore days. For a moment, a brief, calming moment, nothing
occurred. Had he succeeded? Had he saved her life? Thank the
gods, she might- and then it began. A jetstream of coagulated
bloody erupted from her chest, a fresh spring geyser newly
uncorked by thawing grounds, staining the surrounding landscape.
Xander leapt upwards, thrusting his hands into her chest,
attempting to stem an unstoppable tide with sheer willpower.
”No, no, no!”, he cried to himself, as he began to taste iron in
every last one of his pores, his chest and arms near instantly
painted crimson red, hot fluids seeping underneath his grasping
fingernails. But there was nothing to be done. As the tide
ebbed, Xander fell backward once more, squelching as he sat upon
his posterior, droplets of salty water trickling down his face,
mixing indiscriminately with the solution of bodily fluids that
now formed a small lake upon the ground, lost, gone, forgotten.
”XANDER! Is everything alright?!” Henry shouted as he rounded
the corner of the debris field, ”Atvulf came and got-“. He
stopped abruptly, the words caught in his throat. One hand rose
to cup his mouth.
”They just around that there corner, keep movin’ you f*ckin’
oaf,” Atvulf pushed his way past the immobile Henry, needlessly
shoving an elbow into his gut. ”Ye two still a‘right, Xander?
Look, we were talking-,“ Atvulf nearly copied Henry in his
movements as he observed the burned mechanical husk in which the
gruesome scene had unfolded.
”The f*ck?!,” Atvulf whispered hoarsely, something caught in his
throat. ”But.. it was only-“ he turned and wretched upon the
ground nearby, an assorted blob of various half-digested chunks
adding to the mosaic of debris in an almost impressionistic
pattern.
For several unnerving moments, no one moved or spoke, save for
the odd cough erupting from Atvulf as he attempted to clear the
acidity from his throat. Then Henry moved forward, pulling off
his police uniform jacket, painted in mud and odd scratches, the
golden shield embroidered upon the upper right breast pocket
still clearly visible, and laid it upon the bloody corpse of the
women he had never known.
”You…. You two go back. Make sure the others are setting up a
proper camp. Tell the others …. Tell the others I’ll be late,”
Henry spoke softly, his lips barely moving.
Neither Atvulf nor Xander spoke as they maneuvered their way
back towards the front entrance of the graveyard of misery.
----------------------------------------------------------------
----------------
The clearing was set. Though the debris field-the former DERA
camp-still largely surrounded them on all sides in spite of
their attempt to extricate themselves from its permeating field
of death, the survivors had done a fair job in clearing out much
of the wreckage, save a few scraps of loose paper goods that lay
strewn atop the rock and dirt ground. They had managed to
salvage a few odd tents for their overnight use, including a
larger trademarked DERA command tent, its overly larger sigil
along one side blatantly insulting the huddled survivors in all
its worthless glory. Someone-Xander knew not who-had started a
bonfire, burning whatever dry flammable scraps that had been
nearby.
“Henry’s not back yet, eh?” Atvulf murmured, the chilly air
leaving his breath vapor visible.
Tsubaki shook her head lightly. She had been staring into the
darkness that now obscured the majority of the wreckage for
several hours now, sitting atop an abandoned milk carton,
searching aimlessly.
”You reckon we need go back, Xander?” Atvulf replied. His head
dropped as he looked back into the red, roaring flames of the
bonfire. ”I…”
He looked upwards towards the rest of the survivors. ”Sure ain’
gonna do no one no good sittin’ here doing squat. Most of you
get sleepin’ ASAP, we gots us another hike-downwards, but still
a hike-on the marrow. Ain’ no use wasting ye energy. Night
yall.”
Most of the survivors obeyed the commandment, pairing up and
retreating to the various salvaged tents. Save for a handful of
dim murmurs, conversations beyond Xander’s caring, only the roar
and crackling of the flames, the odd heavy breath, and the
unseen settling of the distant debris around the valley like
rustling of tree branches in a heavy wind permeated the night
silence. Atvulf, Tsubaki, Xander, Mikey, and some random man
whom Xander swore was pissing, remained the only individuals
awake-if just barely.
”Mikey, you to. Get sum sleep.” Atvulf hoarsely whispered.
”Man, no way. You up, I’m up. Bros for life. ‘sides, I… nah.
Imma stay up.”
”Look, be needin’ someone to keep watch later. Don’t trust no
one but you to watch my back Mikey, so git some proper sleep.
I’ll git you up in a few hours.”
Mikey sighed, and nodded his head. ”Sure man, ye know best eh.
You take care. Nigh’
”Nigh’ Mikey.”
Atvulf exhaled deeply, staring intensely into the fire as if he
could expunge some deeper meaning from it. He turned to Xander.
”Mind if I play sum sh*t? I ain’ gonna stare out into who knows
what waitin’ for Henry like sweet t*ts there all night. Here,
look.” Henry walked over and grabbed something from a pile of
supplies that had accumulated from the survivors foraging,
rummaged for a bit, before walking back to the bonfire.
”Mikey found this sh*t in sumbodies tent, damn fine this beut
is,” Atvulf conversed with Xander whistling gently, ”Mikey might
only got one oar in the water, but his hearts in the right
place. He knows I like a good guitar just like I like my women,
eh?” He lazily strummed the strings as if caressing a soft
kitten. The wooden, lacquered guitar had been carefully polished
with care, no dents or scratches to be seen anywhere amongst its
body, a stark contrast to the survivors. ”She strung nice and
properly to eh? Let me give you a little jig.” Atvulf began to
play and sing softly, his deep, guttural voice softened:
”Little bird, little bird fly through my window,”
Little bird, little bird fly through my window,
Little bird, little bird fly through my window,
And buy molasses candy.”
Atvulf exhaled triumphantly. ”Ain’ done that one in a while.
Sh*t, lemme think, next verse goes – ‘Fly through my window, my
sugar lump, Fly through-“. He stopped as he observed Tsubaki
stand up off her milk-carton pedestal sharply. He gently place
down the guitar onto the ground, and pulled from his waistline a
shining metal handgun.
”Sh*t, who out there? Come out into the light!” Atvulf shouted
authoritatively.
A dark figure emerged from the infinite wall of blackness,
slowly becoming more defined like a siren emerging from the
abyssal depths of the ocean. Sprawled across its arms a wrapped
package laid draped. Tsubaki moved forward as if to embrace the
unknown figure, but stopped abruptly, air trapped in her throat.
”Just me Atvulf, don’t shoot. I’d rather not have to pull a
bullet from my chest tonight,” Henry replied.
Atvulf sighed deeply, his hands falling back to his sides,
relieved. ”Took ye long enough eh? What took ye so frackin’
long?”
Henry stepped into the illuminating bonfire life, its flickering
flames etching the disturbing package he carried. ”It took me a
while to find something to wrap Gwen in, and then I got somewhat
lost as night fell. Sorry. But I’m here now, everything alright
with everyone?”
”Who the hell is Gwen?”
”Seriously?”
”Ye, seriously, who- oh…”
”Yeah.”
Atvulf stared directly at the bundle draped across Henry’s arms,
as if his piercing eyes could examine the prone figure through
the mismatched wrappings. ”Ye didn’t need do that. Waste of
time,” he muttered to him.
Henry looked downward towards his burden, ”No, it needed to be
done. No one should be-“ he looked around towards the enduring
blackness of the night”- left to rest in all this. It’s not
right.”
”Sure. Whatever you say, man.”
Henry sighed deeply, his breath visible and billowing in the
night air. He shivered slightly, before moving to the far side
of the camp to lay down his package, his boots crunching on the
loose paper debris underfoot. He returned to the bonfire with
his arms crossed, drawing a discarded crate to sit upon.
”So,” Henry began, ”how was everyone’s haul? Did we get anything
useful?”
Atvulf shrugged nonchalantly. ”Alright I reckon, few knives and
such. And them tents everyone’s in. This here gun’s not bad,
only one round though.”
”Any food, water, or medicine?”
Again, Atvulf shrugged. ”Not a lot out there eh, lota dry goods
from them gov folks but varmits got into most of it. I’d reckon
most of these peeps be high cotton arses, ain’ bring sh*t they’d
need. We salvaged what we could, but it was piddly squat. Maybe
nuf to last us another two days?”
Henry sighed deeply. ”That’ll have to do I suppose. Guess we’re
going to have to head back down the mountain tomorrow.”
”I reckon. But where the f*ck we gonna go? Some hood with ye
homies eh?” Atvulf chortled to himself.
”Hrmm… you remember what those officers said at the crossing?”
Henry spoke slowly, attempting to draw the memory from the
recesses of his memory. ”Didn’t they say there was a military
base nearby? Er, Aienclad Aviation Base right?”
”Aye, not a bad idea sooty! Maybe you’ve got sum brains up there
after all!”
Henry rolled his eyes. ”Sure. We can warn those officers to.
Maybe they can come with us. There’s a possibility that those
creatures that attacked us might sweep through here looking for
survivors later on.”
Atvulf snorted at this option. ”Man, f*ck them. If I had my
druthers I’d punt their skinny arses straight into the moon. Let
the metalheads have their way with em’.”
”The moon….”
”What? You loosin’ it?”
”The moon. Look up.” Henry’s jaw gaped open as he looked
skyward. The rest of the quad around the roaring bonfire looked
towards the heavens in turn.
”Oh… sh*t.”
Though the sky was not particularly clear, as smoke from the
blistering bonfire and the smoldering debris around them lightly
obscured their vison of the stars, the moon shone brightly on
the night sky, a clean round circle of light amongst the
oblivion. Or rather now two uneven half-circles, if not more
debris. The moon have been shattered into, as if some immortal
beast had cleaved the heavenly body with one mighty swipe of
their indomitable sword, shattering the once beautiful angelic
child of the stars.
”Why didn’t we see it until now?” Henry whispered.
”Never did have no good reason to look directly at it till now.
Musta happened sometime today though.”
Henry looked back downwards at the other compatriots. ”Do we
even have a chance of surviving this?”
Tears welled in the corners of Tsubaki’s brown, slanted eyes,
vanishing nearly as quickly as they formed as the sweltering
bonfire scorched the last vestiges of dreams from the corners of
their souls.
----------------------------------------------------------------
--------
Pain.
Sharp pain.
Xander had rolled upon his side in his sleep, and now some
irritating pebble underneath awoke him from his slumber, a rough
thorn prodding him to action. He steadily rose from whence he
lain, one hand out alongside the tent wall balancing him, the
rough canvas frigid to the touch. Though he had slept upon the
rough crag terrain atop but a few layers of salvaged cloth, he
had slept well that night, the buzzing in his head from
yesterdays strain of activates absolved for a time. Perhaps. In
any case, the morning was afoot, and Xander could hear activity
outside.
”Git ur tits up Xander, ain’t this ruckus wake ye from ye sack
yet?” someone called from beyond.
Xander groaned, opening the tend flap, and stepped out back onto
the mountain valley, stretching towards the heavens as he stood
fully vertical, a strained grimace etched upon his face. With
the morning sun arisen, Xander could once more see the graveyard
sea and the chaos of which it embodied. However, the musk of
death that had permeated the frozen wasteland a day prior was
gone, swept away by the rapid tidal strength of billowing
mountain gusts.
”Most of the supplies have already been packed Xander, just a
few more things to go. We let you sleep in a bit, but do you
mind grabbing my pack for the trip downward once you’re ready?
Thanks.” Henry called from the other side of the clearing.
Xander started towards the somewhat distant voice, his boots
crunching upon the coarse, gravel ground, each step tender and
uncomfortably raw from the previous days exercise upwards. As he
arrived by Henry, he grabbed his heavy load, nearly buckling
under the excess weight, hefting it upon his sore shoulders,
straps digging fresh trenches of misery upon him.
”Another day of misery” he thought to himself.
Henry turned towards the rest of the group, having located and
lifted his morbid hall from the night prior. ”Alright, everyone
ready? Let’s get moving!”
----------------------------------------------------------------
The trek back down the winding mountain trail, in spite of the
countless abandoned vehicles continuing to litter and obscure
their path ahead, was considerably less strenuous than the
previous days climb, though a few of the survivors took liberty
with their newly acquired gravity and collided with those ahead
on occasion, much to their irritation. Henry to, continued to
forge a path downward ahead of the pack, a slightly bent metal
spade caked in dried, brown mud continuously bouncing of the
back of his legs as he walked though he payed little mind to the
discomfort or the future rash he invited, the package he bore
shaking with each successive step forward occupying his
attention fully.
As they nearly cleared the last of the cemetery of forgotten
assorted vehicles, Henry paused, looking outward from an outcrop
towards the valley just below.
”Here is good” he called to the others.
”Eh? For what?” Atvulf replied, his arms crossed.
Wordlessly, Henry ignored him as he placed his bundle upon the
earthen ground, and shouldered the spade from his back, placing
the tip into the soil, and began to excavate the outcrop, neatly
piling the shifted soil into a pile alongside.
Atvulf snorted. ”This really necessary? She dead, she don’ give
a f*ck where you put her skinny ass. Just dump her in a car or
something.”
Henry refused to look him directly in the face, barely tilting
his head towards him. ”This is the spot.”
Atvulf shook his head in disbelief. ”I ain’t waiting for ye,
Imma finish walking and take a rest. Any of ye who want to come
with better. Van’s got air conditioning eh?” He started down the
mountain path once more. Mikey was the first to move after his
cousin a moment later, sparking most of the other survivors to
follow closely behind, until only Xander and Tsubaki remained
watching Henry burry his burden.
Tsubaki moved to help, graving an abandoned ice scrapper from
the dashboard of one of the deserted vehicles, but before she
could move her first mound of earth, Henry placed a firm hand
upon her shoulder. ”It’s alright,” he spoke softly to her, ”I’ve
got this.”
Tsubaki place down her makeshift trowel, and took her place
silently alongside Xander, her eyes downcast, examining in
needless detail a smooth stone that lay just beyond her
sneakers.
Henry sighed in exhaustion. ”Eh, I think that’s good enough
right?” He hoisted the cloth wrapped package from the ground,
before gingerly placing it into the newly formed ditch. He wiped
his sweat and dirt caked hands alongside his pants, doing little
to cleanse them.
”Anyone want to say a few words or something? I… I don’t really
know what to say. Is there anything right to say?” Henry mummed.
Tsubaki bent down and grasped the pebble she had been examining,
and placed it into the folds of her jacket, straightening
upright once more.
Choice 7 (Strength: Mild)
A: Speak a few words for her. No one deserves silence, in spite
of how little you know about her.
B: Say nothing. You have nothing to say, is it not enough that
you’re here?
#Post#: 2311--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Freedom War
By: guest100 Date: July 12, 2018, 6:08 pm
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Xander stood next to Henry looking at Gwen's grave, thinking of
the right words to be said. He put his hand on Henry's shoulder
before speaking, "Your life shouldn't have ended this way, no
one's should have. We just hope that you and the others don't
die in vain, and that the pain is over." In his thoughts he told
her he was sorry that she died like that. He then gave the other
two a moment of silence before helping fill it in.
#Post#: 2312--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Freedom War
By: guest121 Date: July 12, 2018, 6:42 pm
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His eyes downcast, Henry grabbed a pebble from the rocky road,
examining it, before flicking it into the grave as Xander
concluded with his brief eulogy.
”I,…“ Henry begins, words caught deep within his throat.
Henry turned his eyes downward, ashamed, returning to covering
his grisly self-afflicted task. One last, final flick of his
spade, and one final layer of musty mountain soil was lain upon
the now hidden bundle, forever lost except to the few who
remained to remember.
”I think we’re done here.“ Henry murmured near inaudibly.
--------------------------------------
The remaining trio of Xander, Henry, and Tsubaki finished the
remaining climb down the mountain face along the winding dirt
road. As the rusting, abandoned cars thinned and ceased upon
their trek, they could make out the sight of their familiar
armored van, waiting idly by for their arrival. Outside however,
a lone figure waited.
”Ye’ took ye’ blasted time. Daylights wasting you idiots, unless
you wanna be out roasting our bums whilst the Metalheads find us
in the night eh? What took ye so long anyhow? Just drop the body
in a pit and be done with the sodding thing.” Atvulf called
impatiently as they approached.
”It’s not as simple as that,… you just can’t… nevermind, you
wouldn’t understand.” Henry looked away.
”No, I understand ye kind perfectly, you suicidal sentimental
f*cks,” Atvulf reached down and grabbed a large, smooth rock
from the road, hefted it in his hand to test its weight, and
flung it into the surrounding forest. ”BOOYAH SCORE! I think I
hits me a polecat!” Atvulf shouted excitedly, ”Night’s meal on
me how bout-wait, I think I just stunned it. Sh*t.” Atvulf
reached down to grab another stone.
”Stop,” Henry put his hand on Atvulf’s arm, ”That’s enough. Like
you said, we need to get going.” Atvulf simply shrugged and
returned his hand to his pocket.
-------------------------------------
The survivors pilled back into their armored van once more,
reluctant to return to the road and the perils it thrust upon
them. Unconsciously, they nearly identically resumed their
previous seating arrangement: Henry at the wheel, tired but
determined, Atvulf the obnoxious backseat driver with an ever
silent Tsubaki aside, and Xander watchful and tense in the front
passenger seat.
They drove relatively silently, an awkward air of terse gloom as
the boredom of the drive and the painful memories of the past
foray up the mountain let their minds wander internally, only
broken by the odd crack as the heavy armored van snapped fallen
twigs beneath its tires as it moved onward underneath the forest
canopy.
”Wait,… isn’t this that intersection,” Henry broke the silence
amongst the survivors, ”That one with the police checkpoint?”
”Er,… sure looks like it. Speed up, git us out of ‘ere swift.”
”But the officers might still be here. We need to warn them that
the camp is gone.”
”Don’t be drugin up dat sh*t again, just keep goin’.”
Henry put his foot down on the break, slowing the armored van
down to a stop just outside of the intersection ahead. ”We’re
not like that, you should know that. Come on.” Atvulf snorted
and stayed seated.
Henry turned to Xander. ”Okay, us then.”
The pair stepped out from the armored van. Ahead, the clearing
was much as it was the day earlier, an intersection between dirt
roads in dire need of repair. The leaves in the canopy above
rustled in the light breeze, an incoherent jingle of nature.
Henry pointed ahead. ”Xander, was their car in that ditch
yesterday?”
Xander looked ahead towards the car. Indeed, the police squad
car that the rangers had been using yesterday lay rear up a
distance ahead, hood down in an earthen ditch, dented and
scratched by the impact, abandond. The driver side door lay
ajar, standing skyward like some metal totem. Deep ruts had been
cut into the dirt road, as if someone had attempted to quickly
and forcefully drive the car away only to crash unintentionally
into the ditch along the road.
”Xander, come here, check this out.” Henry called nervously.
Xander apprehensively approached a kneeling Henry, leaning to
examine what he pointed to. A thick, viscous puddle, a crimson
fluid, filled a shallow depression in the earthen road. A few
drops of the liquid lay splattered outside of the puddle, giving
the dirt road an artistic flavor.
Henry turned to Xander, eyes filled with knowing, and shook his
head.
”Let’s get going.”
The two turned back towards the van and made a speedy egress.
Slamming the doors shut, Atvulf called disinterestly from the
back.
”Yeh find the f*ckers?”
”Not quite.” Henry responded, clearly shaken, a slight tremor to
his voice.
”Wat,” Atvulf pushed, his voice raising, ”sumtin’ happen? ‘Cause
I’m good to give those arseholes a good lickin’”
”No, nothing. We’re leaving.”
”Seriously, don’t be lyin’ to me now, ‘cause-“
”We’re leaving. End of discussion.”
Henry floored the armored van forward, speeding away from the
dirt intersection, following the road towards the military base
that had been indicated to them by the rangers yesterday,
leaving behind the mysterious puddle and crashed patrol car and
the horrors they foretold.
----------------------------------------------------
As Henry sped onward, the van moving increasingly faster so that
the terrain blurred and smeared around them, an impressionistic
canvas of forest greens, woody browns, and harsh mid-afternoon
light, Xander felt something digging into his foot. A dull pain,
more uncomfortable than anything, Xander undid the laces of the
mud-caked black boot upon his right foot. Lifting upwards,
Xander shook the boot slightly with his hand outstretched
underneath, a small, gray, dusty pebble fell out of his boot and
into his open palm. Placing his boot once more back upon the
armored vans carpeted floor, he examined the extraordinarily
ordinary little rock. Smooth, nondescript, and covered in dusty
grime, the pebble must have fallen into his boot when he last
exited the vehicle with Henry. Xander contemplated holding onto
the obnoxious little stone, even going so far as to almost place
it into his stolen coats pocket for no other reason but that he
could but stopped before he could let it slide into the coat’s
abyss. Rolling down the armored vans window, he pulled back his
arm, and flung the nuisance into the heavily wooded forest.
*Ping*
An odd sound reached Xander’s ears. A ping, the sound of
something hard hitting metal? In a forest?
Xander looked upward as Henry slowed the armored van to a
sudden, dusty stop. A rusted metal sign, battered and dented,
hanging by one loose bolt, lay flat across a long, chain-link
fence, bent and broken in numerous links, that stretched into
the depths of the forest beyond. Xander tilted his head,
squinting through the sudden dust cloud the van has arose from
the dirt path beneath.
“Aienclad Aviation Base” the weathered sign read as Xander
deciphered the heavily eroded letters. The survivors had
arrived.
Xander looked forward along the road. Ahead, the road was
barricaded by a military style checkpoint, a gray wooded
guardhouse, paint peeling and flaking, several sets of sandbags
arranged in semicircles facing the dirt road with small tears
blemishing their canvas so that their sandy innards mixed with
the earthen ground below, and a flimsy red and white boom gate
across the expanse of the road. Or rather, was formally
barricaded. Several neat holes permeated the glass panes of the
guardhouse, whilst the boom gate failed in its intended purpose
and lay smashed to splinters, strewn haphazardly upon the
ground. Two corpses added a finishing touch to the chaotic
battlefield remnants: one flung atop the sandbags off to right
side of the gate so that his coagulated blood stained the loose
sand, giving it an earthen, artistic vibe, another nearly hidden
by the guardhouse walls, his brown military boots sprouting from
the posts’ doorway, the only visible indicator of its grisly
contents.
”Look like sum tin’ done f*cked sh*t up ‘ere” Atvulf began from
the back as he to observed the carnage. ”How ‘bouts we skedaddle
then? Not our problem.”
”Shh, listen,” Henry responded. The survivors quickly quieted
themselves. In the distance, loud shouts and rapid gunfire
echoed mutedly to them.
”They need help. We’re going.” Henry stated firmly.
”Not over that there rubble, unless yeh aimin’ to blow out yeh
tires,” Atuvlf quickly countered, ”Look.”
Henry and Xander followed his finger to where he pointed. There,
lying underneath the remains of the splintered boom gate, road
spikes protruded from the ground, a menace to both the
barefooted and unsuspecting vehicle tires.
Henry shrugged loosely, ”Then we walk. Get out, and grab
anything useful.”
------------------------------------------------------------
Xander, Henry, Atvulf, Tsubaku, and, after some cajoling from
Atvulf, Mikey, trudged onwards on to the airbase grounds in a
loose, disorderly fashion, following the dirt road to its
conclusion. As they drew closer to the central base area, the
roaring, rapid-fire rattle of automatic weapons and the metallic
pinging as they found their marks grew louder and more defined.
”Git down!” Atvulf hissed at the group as he flopped prone upon
the ground behind a gentle rise in the dirt. The others quickly
followed suit, viscous mud clinging disgustingly to their
chests. Xander brushed a muddy drop from his cheek with one
hand, before slowly crawling to where Atvulf lay.
”Peek yeh head over, but be quiet abouts it unless yeh aimin’ to
git ur head knocked off.” Atvulf murmured over his shoulder, his
eyes still fixed upon the scene ahead.
Xander carefully moved up the rise, warry of every sound he
made, a crunch of dried, fallen leaves, the heavy sound of his
panting. Slowly, he observed the scene ahead.
Ahead, their backs turned to Xander and the other survivors,
five mechanical monstrosities stood tall, stretched out in a
uniform, equidistant line, firing indiscriminately into the
airfield beyond. Humanoid in shape, metallic implants coated
their machines bodies, tough metal armor and other unknown
apparatus whose purpose could only be diabolic. Several
defenders sprinted in the distance, attempting to use utilize
abandoned vehicles and crates strewn haphazardly as impromptu
cover, returning fire at the monsters when they could spare, to
little effect. Still more lay prone, unmoving upon the ground.
The group, finished observing and daring not a second more, slid
back down the incline and conferred.
”What are those things?” Henry asked puzzled.
”They the goddamn Metalheads, yeh sootie idiot. Didn’ ye see
them when ye were fleeing?” Atvulf answered
”Er, no, just the flying drone thingies. Those are the
‘Metalheads’?”
”Honestly, you a hankerin’ for a hitten’ with how many goddamn
times I need repeat myself. Yes. Mikey and I,” Atvulf paused to
fist-bump Mikey who dutifully complied, ”Killed us a good
half-dozen of those suckers for ourselves a while back. Told ye
already ain’ I?”
Mikey nodded. ”Hell yeah brother, but dem Metalheads tougher
than Uncle Ron’s stomach full of bacon. I shots them like 20
times straight in the noggin’ and day don’ go down. Gots to hit
them in a sweet spot.”
Atvulf nodded in agreement. ”Buggers tough as nails. So fightn’
their behinds super chancy. Hell, we don’ even have proper guns
anymore, ‘cept yeh little popper.” Atvulf pointed to Henry’s
holstered sidearm. ”So we best git our collective arses out of
‘ere as direckly as possible. We ain’ gonna win dis one.”
Henry shook his head in disagreement. ”We stay and fight. They
need our help and we’re in the best position to do it with them
not trying to kill us at the moment. Empty your pockets
everyone, lets see what we have in the way of weapons.”
Xander turned away as he examined the contents of his thick-coat
pockets, withdrawing the battered flashlight he had taken from
the van earlier. It would have to do.
Xander looked up to observe the findings of his compatriots.
Henry had unholstered his service weapon, whilst Atvulf pulled
the three knives that had been scavenged from the derelict
evacuation camp. A paltry sum of weapons.
”This it?” Henry murmured to himself, checking how many rounds
remained in his gun.
”Well we stab them right, we might git sum tin out of this
crap,” Atvulf sighed, ”Still, we ain’ got the power ‘ere, would
be easier if we up and left.”
Henry shook his head in determination. ”We’re doing this whether
you like it or not.”
”At leas’ hold off on yeh goddamn gun before we git in there
first.” Atvulf countered.
”Sure, alright.” Henry stated.
Atvulf handed one of the salvaged knives to Mikey, who examined
it, testing its weight with a few taps and jabs. Tsubaki, eyes
downcast, pointed towards the remaining knife Atvulf clutched.
Observing her pointing, Atvulf looked between her and the knife,
deciphering her intent, before scoffing quietly.
Sweet t*ts want’s herself a knife eh? But it ain’ pink or gots a
bow on it!” Atvulf again chuckled lightly at his own joke.
”But seriously,” he added, ”Ain’ no way in hell imma give you
this. This ain’ no place for women. You just stay put an’ be a
good little girl ‘right?”
Tsubaki shook her head, and pointed once more at the knife he
clutched, her eyes fierce with determination.
”Atvulf,” Henry started, ”there are five of.. of those things
out there. We’ll need every able hand we have.”
”Wut, you two?” Atvulf gave one final hoot, ”Wars’ a man’s duty,
everybody know dat. We’ll be fine, no needs to have some panzy
arse women prancing ‘bout gettin’ us killed and makin’ sh*t
difficult.”
Choice 8 (Strength: Mild)
A: Atvulf is right, agree with him and deny Tsubaki the
knife/her reject her help.
B: Tsubaki can help, and she wants to. Tell Atvulf to hand her
the knife.
#Post#: 2313--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Freedom War
By: guest100 Date: July 21, 2018, 4:31 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Xander looked from Tsubaki to Atvulf weighing in the
possibilities that she may die, or that they may die without
her. Finally making his decision he gave Atvulf a stern look,
"Give her the knife, Henry's right we need all the help we can
get, and even if she does mess up I'd prefer we all died
together than just leaving her alive, to fend for herself."
#Post#: 2314--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Freedom War
By: guest121 Date: July 21, 2018, 4:41 pm
---------------------------------------------------------
Henry grabbed the knife out of Atvulf’s hand, flipping it so
that he held the flat of the blade. He offered the handle to a
nervous Tsubaki, who graciously, if cautiously, accepted the
sharp, dangerous weapon, testing out its weight with a few
imprecise flicks.
Atvulf threw his hands, abandoning the argument. ”Fine, yeh’
frackin’ dumber than a sac of mule sh*t, lettin’ a f*ckin’ girly
fake bein’ a man. Gonna git us killed, but won’ git me killed!
Yeh problem, not mine.”
The attack party spread out along the earthen rise, each
carefully moving behind their respective targets with Atvulf
careful to position himself as far away from a anxious Tsubaki
as he could. Xander nervously rolled his flashlight club in his
hands, sticky sweat beginning to stain his various bodily pits
and unintentionally lubricate his weapon. His breathing, heavy
and labored, began to speed up rapidly until he became mindful
of it, ending the increase with several long, deep breaths. He
looked up, barely peering up above the earthen rise at his
quarry, his prey or his killer.
The metallic chrome of the murderous monster shone brightly in
the afternoon sun, a glint of superheated light reflected
directly back into Xanders eyes, blinding him. He turned away,
blinking the salty tears of pain from his eyes, endeavoring to
wipe the sweat from his brow. A motion to the left of him.
Xander turned his head leftward. Henry, tightly wound, singled
to the rest off them, a quick striking motion with his free
hand. It was time.
Xander followed suit with his friends, slowly creeping forward,
mindful of each step upon the loose, muddy forest ground. Up,
over the rise, senses tightened as loose dirt was shook loose by
their scaling. Had they heard their approach? No, the metal
monsters continued their murderous assault upon the base
defenders unabated, oblivious to the slowly ensnaring trap.
One step forward. Look up. Another step forward. Look up again.
No change. One final snap, a twig cracked beneath Xander’s boot.
He froze, sweat now pouring profusely all over his body form a
thick, sticky coat, an unending river of salty seepage, his eyes
twitching, blinking unendingly.
No change.
Still good.
Xander, breathed in, a deep, silent inhale of crisp, forest
smells, mixing, churning with the noxious fumes of the base
airfield, with burning ash and lost hopes. Xander shouted, a
mighty, ferocious, blood-curdling roar as the war drums of
adrenaline rushed into his mind, his soul, invoking his inner
warrior as he raised and brought down his flashlight club with
his full strength upon the monstrosities back.
*CLANG!*
The club bounced off near-harmlessly, leaving little but a deep
dent into the Metalhead’s armor plating. Ineffective. The beast
turned violently back towards Xander, clearly aware of the
threat it now faced. For a brief moment, the beast paused,
analyzing the situation with impossible speed and accuracy.
A metal spike shot out from a hidden sheath in its right
appendage, razor sharp, a weapon which could slice through
Xander’s grimy skin with ease. Xander looked wildly between it
and the Metalhead, who would move first.
Xander feinted right, then leaned in madly flailing his
makeshift club in a desperate attempt to fell his foe, up and
down, missing the beast as it avoided his strikes with
mechanical precision.
The Metalhead raised its weaponized appendage skyward, a strike
imminent. No time to dodge, Xander instinctively, desperately
raised his left arm to shield himself from the coming blow.
”ARGH!” Xander roared in pain as the metal weapon sliced first
through Xander’s pilfered jacket, next through skin and sinew,
finally stopped by his forearm’s bone. Fresh, hot waves of pain
seared through his arm, excruciating, disabling pain. Xander
jerked back his arm, removing it from the blade of his deadly
foe.
As he removed the blade, blood spewed forth from his arm,
un-dammed by the weapon’s removal, staining his jacket and the
ground beneath, a fresh pool of crimson fluids flooding the
underlying ground. His arm went numb suddenly, all sensation
gone. Useless, but no longer a hindrance.
Xander shouted once more, a roaring battle cry as he screamed
for himself, for his life, for his will to live. He would live.
He wanted to live.
He dived downward as the beast swiped through the air above
which he had recently occupied, whipping, cutting the wind
itself and a few of his loose hairs along with it. Wielding his
club in his one functional hand, Xander hooked the rim of the
flashlights head behind one of the Metalheads legs and yanked.
Hard.
Unbalanced, the Metalhead toppled, unable to regain its footing
upon the blood-stained ground, raising a small cloud of dirt
into the atmosphere, choking Xander’s lungs.
Its head. It was open.
Screaming, roaring, Xander drew back his good arm and slammed it
upon the Metalheads head. A crack upon its armored faceplate
erupted like dendritic web. Not enough. Not nearly enough.
Once more Xander drew back his arm and smashed it downward with
his full weight and might upon the beast. Again. Once more.
Again. Again. Again. Soon Xander lost track, lost sense of
reality, lost in the bloodlust as the organic pulp he crushed
with each successive blow into an even less recognizable mess
continued to paint black droplets of viscus fluid upon his face,
dripping downward, streaking, with each mighty strike.
Stop.
Stop.
Stop!
Xander halted his brutal assault upon the featureless corpse. It
was dead. He could stop. He exhaled sharply, exhuming stale
breath from his lungs and reabsorbing fresh air. He had stopped
breathing, held his breath unintentionally. Now he panted
heavily, attempting, unsuccessfully, to restore his resting
homeostasis. He had won.
Xander stumbled backwards, raising his good arm to wipe the
alien fluids from his eyes, clearing his vison as he panted
continuously. How were the others? Xander looked around wildly,
watching his allies grabble their targets to varying degrees of
success.
”Help!” A desperate, forced cry.
Xander turned sharply to the sound. Mikey lay, back in the mud,
upon the ground with a Metalhead perched above him, one armored
boot placed firmly upon his chest, crushing and pinning him.
Xander watched as the monster raised its bladed appendage to
strike at the downed man.
A flash of movement out of the corner of Xander’s eye.
Xander turned instinctively, watching in horror as Tsubaki and
her quarry toppled in a jumbled mass, the Metalhead atop her.
Her knife had been ripped from her hands and lay imbedded into
the creature’s side, painful, but clearly doing little to slow
the beast’s assault. He observed in horror as the Metalhead drew
back its blade, aiming for Tsubaki’s throat as she thrashed in a
desperate attempt to evade.
Two in need of help, but only Xander remained available to
support.
Choice 9 (Strength: Strong)
A: Help Mikey.
B: Help Tsubaki.
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