Hahma
September 1st, 2006, 12:53 PM
The Party’s Over
Installment #1
Rain had been falling for days on end. It wasn’t a heavy rain, nor was it enhanced by high winds or any wind at all for that matter; it just fell straight down in a steady rhythm. Being that it was dusk, the rain brought about a new world of chill to those who dared venture out into it. A bi-product of this humidity and drop in temperature was the fog that rose from the cooling ground; it would seemingly rise up from the earth throughout the night hours and gradually dissipate the following morning.
Carr didn’t find the weather conditions to be a discomfort nor unsettling, like most people would. Though agent Carr wasn’t most people, as his enhanced mental discipline allowed him to ignore such minor annoyances as these weather conditions. For his focus was channeled toward the job at hand, despite its mundane nature. At the moment, he stood at the corner of Center Street and the pedestrian-only Flagon Boulevard, while observing the entrance of The Cutter Tap. He stood patiently as he waited for Cpl Juarez of the Micro Corps to join him after parking and plugging in their vehicle. The Cutter Tap was but one of many drinking and gaming establishments that lined the boulevard in this seedy part of town, and it was a favorite stomping ground for one James Murphy.
Murphy was a lone-wolf lawman that had a reputation for enforcing the law, his law, in a cold and calm manner. While technically he was off duty, the man was never actually off duty. But either way, Carr needed to get to him and inform him of General Vydar’s sudden allegiance with General Utgar. Agent Carr’s Krav Maga agents had received intel that the General whom which the Agency had been aligned with, had been secretly hiring out Major X-17’s gladiatrons and Major Q9’s blastatrons to do the bidding of General Utgar.
It wasn’t long before Cpl Juarez stealthily joined Carr, and just as they were about to walk toward The Cutter Tap, which was a half block down the boulevard, Carr put his arm up slightly to signal the Micro Corps agent to halt. The double doors of The Cutter suddenly flew outward as a group of men took their argument out to the slick, fog laden cobblestone walkway. Carr sensed that Murphy must be part of this, so he decided to stand back and observe for a while before intervening; though he had no reservations regarding the lawman’s ability to handle things on his own.
As it turned out, there were four “vests”, as he knew the glide-biker gangs to be called, standing shoulder to shoulder and facing off against a lone man in a wide-brimmed hat and wearing a long, tan leather coat. At the sight of Murphy, Carr shook his mostly bald ebon head and cracked an ever so slight and rare smile, as he settled back to observe the entertaining show that was sure to come.
Intstallment #2
The scene in front of The Cutter Tap tasted of comedic flavoring to Carr and Juarez as they bore witness in obscurity.
While James Murphy calmly puffed on his dampening cigarette, the “vests” stood a respectful six-foot distance from him as they puffed their chests, flexed their tattoo ridden arms and verbally accosted the lawman. Murphy’s calm seemed to infuriate the toughs all the more, while at the same time unsettling them enough to keep any of them from charging the lone man.
Then it happened. Whether it was the general dampness hanging about, or an unlucky rivulet of rainwater that fell from the underside of the brim on Murphy’s hat, it mattered not. The end result was a lifeless cigarette hanging from the lawman’s tightening lips.
“Darn it!” Murphy swore in a gravely, yet controlled voice. He then plucked the soggy bad habit from his mouth with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and flicked it toward the chest of the loudest “vest”. The impact of the soggy missile seemed to lift a curse of sort, as the “vests” seemed to lose the sensible fear that held them in check only moments before. They fanned out while at the same time drawing foot-long, downward curved blades from thigh sheaths, and proceeded to encircle the lawman in hopes of at least one of them being able to rush him from a blind spot.
Murphy didn’t waste time; for in one reflexive motion, he flung open his long coat and with his right hand, retrieved the coiled bull-whip from its snap-strap attached to his belt on his right side and instantly put it to use. The whip became an extension of his arm and mind while coming to life as it lashed out and wrapped around the neck of the “vest” that had thought he was safe in the lawman’s blind spot. Instinctively, the man dropped his knife in a futile attempt to free his air passage from the constricting leather that bound it.
This appeared to be the opportunity that one ambitious “vest” must have been waiting for, because while his cohort had the lawman’s whip occupied, this one charged in with his downward curved knife-blade held high and ready to come swiping down hard. Where the sawed-off shotgun came from, the “vest” had no idea, but he didn’t care much after the side of the barrel smashed his remaining teeth into his mouth in a crunchy and bloody mess.
The remaining two intact “vests” must have been the smartest of the four, because they seemed to lose all interest in this one-sided assault. Or, it could have been the sudden sound of metal feet scampering all about, and hidden beneath the knee high fog.
Installment #3
Agent Carr suddenly felt the presence of other players in this game of life and death, and began running toward the confrontation outside The Cutter Tap. While on the run, he drew his General Vydar “improved” magnum from its shoulder holster under his trench coat, and then pulled his hand and a half Sword of Reckoning from its scabbard that was slung over his shoulder. Cpl Juarez flipped his night-vision lens down and followed his superior with his assault weapon at the ready.
Murphy sensed that there was another problem about to present itself, as he had also heard the unmistakable sound of metal striking the cobblestone multiple times in a “clickity-clack, clickity-clack” pattern. He wasn’t concerned with the two “vests” that had regained their sense of caution, so he reeled in the one at the end of his whip and once the suffocating man had stumbled closer, the lawman knocked him out with a single punch to the nose. He then uncoiled his whip with a series of quick flicks of the wrist and turned his attention to the unnatural sounds that were fast approaching.
The lawman nearly laughed as one of the six-foot plus “vests”, squealed like a schoolgirl when something leapt out of the fog and onto his chest. Murphy saw the giant metal rat-looking thing clinging to the frantic man’s black leather vest and said, “Nuts”, when he recognized General Utgar’s markings on the creature’s hindquarters.
The “vest”, had managed to regain his composure enough to block his vital throat area with his left forearm and deliver glancing blows to the alien metallic creature with the mean-looking blade in his right hand; though at this awkward distance, he couldn’t get much momentum behind his attacks.
Seeing the man’s dilemma, Murphy thought he’d help out by rendering the rat-thing into scrap metal with a close-ranged blast from his twelve-gauge, custom shotgun. The unfortunate side affect for the “vest”, was the gaping hole in his chest that sent him sprawling below fog level. The lawman looked to the spot where the glide-biker had been and said, “You’re welcome.” He then scanned the blurry ground around him for moving red-eyed glows that would give him at least some idea where to send blasts with his shotgun.
When Murphy began sending lead toward the red glows, he’d hear some strikes against metal but also the sound of more rat-things scattering closer. He growled, “Little buggers.”
The lone, conscious “vest”, had enough and started to bolt away. Before he had taken ten steps, however, he tripped over a rat-thing that scurried in front of him and stumbled to the wet ground. By the time he’d gotten back to his feet, he found himself surrounded by small, red glowing eyes that penetrated up through the fog. Instinctively, the cowardly “vest” swung his knife back and forth in front of him and called over to Murphy, “Hey man, help me out will ya! You’re a lawman, aren’t you supposed to help people?”
While the little creatures were momentarily occupied, Murphy took the opportunity to add a few more shells to the tubular magazine of his shotgun, all the while scanning his surroundings and recognizing a pair of familiar faces running in his direction. The lawman then chose to answer the frantic glide-biker. He calmly said, “Ah yes…but you are not people.”
Installment #4
As agent Carr and Cpl Juarez closed in on Murphy’s position, they began to see the darting red glows that encircled the lawman and the “vest”. There seemed to be nearly a dozen of them, less one more as Murphy just splattered metallic rat parts to the boulevard as it had leapt up toward his chest. The agents didn’t waste any time before they joined the fray as well.
The red laser-line emanating from Juarez’s assault weapon, locked in on a glowing orb and he sent a controlled three-round burst to follow. One more pile of scrap metal littered the walkway, but the others near it scattered temporarily out of the Micro Corps agent’s vision.
Carr moved through a small pack of the rat-things unscathed to fight at Murphy’s side. On the way, he methodically took out one of the creatures with his pistol and split another one in half with his deadly Sword of Reckoning.
After sending another blast into the fog, Murphy asked in his trademark gravelly voice, “Did you bring these little buggers with you Carr?”
Smoothly, Carr answered, “Not me, Murph. Juarez and I just happened to be in the neighborhood and saw you over here in distress, so we thought we’d bail you out.”
“Well ain’t you good frickin’ Samaritans.” Murphy commended, followed by another blast from his deadly close-range weapon.
Carr shrugged, “We do what we can.” He also sent more lead downward into the haze.
The lone remaining “vest” had been holding his own, though he was hemmed in by two of the armadillo-sized rat-things. After another blast from someone’s weapon, the creatures nipping at his legs scampered away. The big man’s relief was short-lived, as he and presumably the others heard more strange sounds coming their way. They were heavier sounds of metal striking the stone boulevard, but there was an awkward rhythm to it. The “vest” named Conner wasn’t about to stick around to see what the source of the new sound was. However, once again the unlucky soul had only taken a few steps before meeting yet another opponent, but this time the red eyes weren’t below the fog, they were chest high. Conner couldn’t scream out like a frightened schoolgirl, as he had before. The only function that he was able to manage while he stood frozen with fear, was to wet his already rain-soaked jeans. Conner’s trauma was short-lived however, for the beast attached to the red eyes launched itself from ten feet away and landed one metal and one fur-covered paw on his chest. The impact from the incredible-sized creature took the two-hundred and fifty pound human to the ground in an instant, where it proceeded to maul him beyond recognition.
Carr and Murphy had only gotten a quick glance at the beast that had taken the “vest” from this world. Without emotion, the agent only said, “Deathstalker.”
“That thing has a name?” Murphy asked.
“Those things have a name,” Carr corrected. He used his pistol as a pointer and fired off a few rounds toward more sets of eyes that were fast approaching.
The lawman took this moment to fill the magazine of his weapon and replied, “Well I guess the party has just begun.”
Installment #5
Cpl Juarez moved his way toward agent Carr and James Murphy, all the while keeping his attention on the approaching Deathstalkers. His concern for the Deathreavers had diminished in light of the new threat, and besides, a short burst from his assault rifle sent the metallic rat-things scurrying away. It would take more than that to frighten off the dire-wolf soulborg abominations.
As the haze shrouded forms of the creatures closed in, Juarez sighted in with his weapon and sent stream of Teflon-coated, armor-piercing rounds toward the nearest beast. Unfortunately, there was another pack of Deathstalkers, and they were coming from the north, opposite of where the Micro Corps agent was presently looking.
At the last moment, Carr had sensed the presence of the other Deathstalkers coming from the other end of the boulevard. He hadn’t the chance to warn Juarez in time and grimaced after seeing his man disappear beneath the fog after being tackled by a leaping Deathstalker. Agent Carr’s initial instinct was to help his friend, but the other two wolf-like soulborgs coming from that direction, forced him to concern himself at the moment with staying alive. He called over to the lawman, “You’ll have to take care of your end Murph. I’ve got company coming from the north.”
Murphy only grunted in acknowledgement. There was no time for further conversation, as the two Deathstalkers fast approached. He sent his whip forth to bring down the leaping red-eyed beast, but to his dismay, the size and weight of the creature rendered the whip useless.
“Nuts!” The lawman muttered as he quickly tilted his waist-level shotgun upward and squeezed of a blast that struck the mechanically aided wolf in the throat from only six feet away. Murphy casually stepped aside as the headless creature flew past him and continued into the large front window of The Cutter Tap, much to the chagrin of the onlookers that had gathered to watch the show from the safety of indoors.
Meanwhile, Carr sent a few rounds toward the nearest rushing mechanical beast coming his way. He then ran toward them and as one leapt for his throat; he dropped to one knee and sliced open the beast’s metal underbelly, and then ducked to let it fly overhead. Before the next Deathstalker got near, the agent spotted a narrow red beam of light projecting from below the fog, near the position that Juarez had been taken down. Then the red line disappeared a moment before a long staccato of lead hitting metal filled the night air. Shortly afterward, the Micro Corps agent stumbled weakly to his feet.
This time, Carr had time to intervene on his friend’s behalf, as the last Deathstalker coming from the north made for the groggy Cpl Juarez. Carr sprang forward from his kneeling position with his Sword of Reckoning leading the way. He barely brushed past Juarez in time to send his blade hilt-deep into the springing beast’s chest. The creature fell dead upon him and the weight took him down to the puddle laden ground. The agent rolled the mechanical wolf-thing off of him and extracted his sword before standing again.
Installment #6
Meanwhile, Murphy ditched his whip for the moment and raised his shotgun with both hands. He stared down the glistening shortened barrel of his weapon, which was aimed toward the fearless creature that was fast approaching. Before the hideous mechanically-enhanced wolf could begin its leap, the lawman fired off his last three rounds down range and stood ready to use his shotgun as a club if needed. As usual his aim was true and his weapon of choice was effective; for as he stood his ground, a ball of mottled fur and steel came rolling his way, only to stop just short of his leather booted feet. He spat wad of tobacco juice down toward the dead creature and then turned his attention to his comrades that were walking toward him.
“Did you at least get it Murph?” Carr asked.
The lawman reached into one of his large pockets in his coat and pulled out a black, marble-like stone that had unusual engravings precisely carved into it. The glyph was rectangular in shape, an inch thick and the size of man’s hand. “I don’t know how the “vests” got a hold of this thing, but they obviously didn’t know what to do with it other than pawn it. When I got wind of this from some contacts of mine, I had this meeting arranged. Things went well inside until someone in the bar recognized me and kind of blew my cover. The “Vests” had change of heart all of a sudden after the deal was done, thus the fun out here,” Murphy explained.
The calm was interrupted by a short burst from Juarez’s assault weapon, as he sent the mechanical rats scattering once again.
“Pesky little buggers ain’t they,” the lawman commented in his gravely voice.
Carr replied, “Yeah, they’re annoying, but the Deathstalkers are quite the nasties if they get close enough. Speaking of which, are you okay Juarez? I thought we lost you.”
The Micro Corps agent smiled with his perfectly white teeth and answered, “Gotta love the suit man. I’m bruised pretty good but the beast couldn’t penetrate the suit with those fangs, thank god. We wrestled a bit and I eventually got it off me long enough to get a burst off with my weapon. So here I am, fit to fight another day.”
“Great! And you can count on fighting another day son. What’s not great is the fact that General Utgar has somehow found out about our little mission here to retrieve the glyph, and sent his new assassins to take you out Murph. He’s got to have an agent with contacts here on earth, do you have any guesses?” Carr asked.
Murphy spat more tobacco juice to the fog covered ground and sneered, “Yeah, I would bet the house that his agent would be McCreetch. That two-timing sneaky little punk must be playing both sides.”
Carr shook his head and said, “We’ll deal with him when the time comes. But that begs the question of whether General Einar has chosen to side with Utgar or if McCreetch has gone rogue and is acting on his own. For now though, we have to return to Valhalla ASAP with the glyph and the rest of the munitions.”
“I’m sure the rest of us gun-toters up there will appreciate having the surplus to last a good while,” Cpl Juarez chimed in with his brilliant smile.
Carr added, “We already brought a good bit back to Sir Hawthorne’s castle while we were waiting for you to get that shiny piece of marble, Murph. One last trip and it's back to the war for us.”
“It was a nice vacation while it lasted, but I guess the party's over,” the lawman concluded.
To Be Continued…
Installment #1
Rain had been falling for days on end. It wasn’t a heavy rain, nor was it enhanced by high winds or any wind at all for that matter; it just fell straight down in a steady rhythm. Being that it was dusk, the rain brought about a new world of chill to those who dared venture out into it. A bi-product of this humidity and drop in temperature was the fog that rose from the cooling ground; it would seemingly rise up from the earth throughout the night hours and gradually dissipate the following morning.
Carr didn’t find the weather conditions to be a discomfort nor unsettling, like most people would. Though agent Carr wasn’t most people, as his enhanced mental discipline allowed him to ignore such minor annoyances as these weather conditions. For his focus was channeled toward the job at hand, despite its mundane nature. At the moment, he stood at the corner of Center Street and the pedestrian-only Flagon Boulevard, while observing the entrance of The Cutter Tap. He stood patiently as he waited for Cpl Juarez of the Micro Corps to join him after parking and plugging in their vehicle. The Cutter Tap was but one of many drinking and gaming establishments that lined the boulevard in this seedy part of town, and it was a favorite stomping ground for one James Murphy.
Murphy was a lone-wolf lawman that had a reputation for enforcing the law, his law, in a cold and calm manner. While technically he was off duty, the man was never actually off duty. But either way, Carr needed to get to him and inform him of General Vydar’s sudden allegiance with General Utgar. Agent Carr’s Krav Maga agents had received intel that the General whom which the Agency had been aligned with, had been secretly hiring out Major X-17’s gladiatrons and Major Q9’s blastatrons to do the bidding of General Utgar.
It wasn’t long before Cpl Juarez stealthily joined Carr, and just as they were about to walk toward The Cutter Tap, which was a half block down the boulevard, Carr put his arm up slightly to signal the Micro Corps agent to halt. The double doors of The Cutter suddenly flew outward as a group of men took their argument out to the slick, fog laden cobblestone walkway. Carr sensed that Murphy must be part of this, so he decided to stand back and observe for a while before intervening; though he had no reservations regarding the lawman’s ability to handle things on his own.
As it turned out, there were four “vests”, as he knew the glide-biker gangs to be called, standing shoulder to shoulder and facing off against a lone man in a wide-brimmed hat and wearing a long, tan leather coat. At the sight of Murphy, Carr shook his mostly bald ebon head and cracked an ever so slight and rare smile, as he settled back to observe the entertaining show that was sure to come.
Intstallment #2
The scene in front of The Cutter Tap tasted of comedic flavoring to Carr and Juarez as they bore witness in obscurity.
While James Murphy calmly puffed on his dampening cigarette, the “vests” stood a respectful six-foot distance from him as they puffed their chests, flexed their tattoo ridden arms and verbally accosted the lawman. Murphy’s calm seemed to infuriate the toughs all the more, while at the same time unsettling them enough to keep any of them from charging the lone man.
Then it happened. Whether it was the general dampness hanging about, or an unlucky rivulet of rainwater that fell from the underside of the brim on Murphy’s hat, it mattered not. The end result was a lifeless cigarette hanging from the lawman’s tightening lips.
“Darn it!” Murphy swore in a gravely, yet controlled voice. He then plucked the soggy bad habit from his mouth with the thumb and forefinger of his left hand and flicked it toward the chest of the loudest “vest”. The impact of the soggy missile seemed to lift a curse of sort, as the “vests” seemed to lose the sensible fear that held them in check only moments before. They fanned out while at the same time drawing foot-long, downward curved blades from thigh sheaths, and proceeded to encircle the lawman in hopes of at least one of them being able to rush him from a blind spot.
Murphy didn’t waste time; for in one reflexive motion, he flung open his long coat and with his right hand, retrieved the coiled bull-whip from its snap-strap attached to his belt on his right side and instantly put it to use. The whip became an extension of his arm and mind while coming to life as it lashed out and wrapped around the neck of the “vest” that had thought he was safe in the lawman’s blind spot. Instinctively, the man dropped his knife in a futile attempt to free his air passage from the constricting leather that bound it.
This appeared to be the opportunity that one ambitious “vest” must have been waiting for, because while his cohort had the lawman’s whip occupied, this one charged in with his downward curved knife-blade held high and ready to come swiping down hard. Where the sawed-off shotgun came from, the “vest” had no idea, but he didn’t care much after the side of the barrel smashed his remaining teeth into his mouth in a crunchy and bloody mess.
The remaining two intact “vests” must have been the smartest of the four, because they seemed to lose all interest in this one-sided assault. Or, it could have been the sudden sound of metal feet scampering all about, and hidden beneath the knee high fog.
Installment #3
Agent Carr suddenly felt the presence of other players in this game of life and death, and began running toward the confrontation outside The Cutter Tap. While on the run, he drew his General Vydar “improved” magnum from its shoulder holster under his trench coat, and then pulled his hand and a half Sword of Reckoning from its scabbard that was slung over his shoulder. Cpl Juarez flipped his night-vision lens down and followed his superior with his assault weapon at the ready.
Murphy sensed that there was another problem about to present itself, as he had also heard the unmistakable sound of metal striking the cobblestone multiple times in a “clickity-clack, clickity-clack” pattern. He wasn’t concerned with the two “vests” that had regained their sense of caution, so he reeled in the one at the end of his whip and once the suffocating man had stumbled closer, the lawman knocked him out with a single punch to the nose. He then uncoiled his whip with a series of quick flicks of the wrist and turned his attention to the unnatural sounds that were fast approaching.
The lawman nearly laughed as one of the six-foot plus “vests”, squealed like a schoolgirl when something leapt out of the fog and onto his chest. Murphy saw the giant metal rat-looking thing clinging to the frantic man’s black leather vest and said, “Nuts”, when he recognized General Utgar’s markings on the creature’s hindquarters.
The “vest”, had managed to regain his composure enough to block his vital throat area with his left forearm and deliver glancing blows to the alien metallic creature with the mean-looking blade in his right hand; though at this awkward distance, he couldn’t get much momentum behind his attacks.
Seeing the man’s dilemma, Murphy thought he’d help out by rendering the rat-thing into scrap metal with a close-ranged blast from his twelve-gauge, custom shotgun. The unfortunate side affect for the “vest”, was the gaping hole in his chest that sent him sprawling below fog level. The lawman looked to the spot where the glide-biker had been and said, “You’re welcome.” He then scanned the blurry ground around him for moving red-eyed glows that would give him at least some idea where to send blasts with his shotgun.
When Murphy began sending lead toward the red glows, he’d hear some strikes against metal but also the sound of more rat-things scattering closer. He growled, “Little buggers.”
The lone, conscious “vest”, had enough and started to bolt away. Before he had taken ten steps, however, he tripped over a rat-thing that scurried in front of him and stumbled to the wet ground. By the time he’d gotten back to his feet, he found himself surrounded by small, red glowing eyes that penetrated up through the fog. Instinctively, the cowardly “vest” swung his knife back and forth in front of him and called over to Murphy, “Hey man, help me out will ya! You’re a lawman, aren’t you supposed to help people?”
While the little creatures were momentarily occupied, Murphy took the opportunity to add a few more shells to the tubular magazine of his shotgun, all the while scanning his surroundings and recognizing a pair of familiar faces running in his direction. The lawman then chose to answer the frantic glide-biker. He calmly said, “Ah yes…but you are not people.”
Installment #4
As agent Carr and Cpl Juarez closed in on Murphy’s position, they began to see the darting red glows that encircled the lawman and the “vest”. There seemed to be nearly a dozen of them, less one more as Murphy just splattered metallic rat parts to the boulevard as it had leapt up toward his chest. The agents didn’t waste any time before they joined the fray as well.
The red laser-line emanating from Juarez’s assault weapon, locked in on a glowing orb and he sent a controlled three-round burst to follow. One more pile of scrap metal littered the walkway, but the others near it scattered temporarily out of the Micro Corps agent’s vision.
Carr moved through a small pack of the rat-things unscathed to fight at Murphy’s side. On the way, he methodically took out one of the creatures with his pistol and split another one in half with his deadly Sword of Reckoning.
After sending another blast into the fog, Murphy asked in his trademark gravelly voice, “Did you bring these little buggers with you Carr?”
Smoothly, Carr answered, “Not me, Murph. Juarez and I just happened to be in the neighborhood and saw you over here in distress, so we thought we’d bail you out.”
“Well ain’t you good frickin’ Samaritans.” Murphy commended, followed by another blast from his deadly close-range weapon.
Carr shrugged, “We do what we can.” He also sent more lead downward into the haze.
The lone remaining “vest” had been holding his own, though he was hemmed in by two of the armadillo-sized rat-things. After another blast from someone’s weapon, the creatures nipping at his legs scampered away. The big man’s relief was short-lived, as he and presumably the others heard more strange sounds coming their way. They were heavier sounds of metal striking the stone boulevard, but there was an awkward rhythm to it. The “vest” named Conner wasn’t about to stick around to see what the source of the new sound was. However, once again the unlucky soul had only taken a few steps before meeting yet another opponent, but this time the red eyes weren’t below the fog, they were chest high. Conner couldn’t scream out like a frightened schoolgirl, as he had before. The only function that he was able to manage while he stood frozen with fear, was to wet his already rain-soaked jeans. Conner’s trauma was short-lived however, for the beast attached to the red eyes launched itself from ten feet away and landed one metal and one fur-covered paw on his chest. The impact from the incredible-sized creature took the two-hundred and fifty pound human to the ground in an instant, where it proceeded to maul him beyond recognition.
Carr and Murphy had only gotten a quick glance at the beast that had taken the “vest” from this world. Without emotion, the agent only said, “Deathstalker.”
“That thing has a name?” Murphy asked.
“Those things have a name,” Carr corrected. He used his pistol as a pointer and fired off a few rounds toward more sets of eyes that were fast approaching.
The lawman took this moment to fill the magazine of his weapon and replied, “Well I guess the party has just begun.”
Installment #5
Cpl Juarez moved his way toward agent Carr and James Murphy, all the while keeping his attention on the approaching Deathstalkers. His concern for the Deathreavers had diminished in light of the new threat, and besides, a short burst from his assault rifle sent the metallic rat-things scurrying away. It would take more than that to frighten off the dire-wolf soulborg abominations.
As the haze shrouded forms of the creatures closed in, Juarez sighted in with his weapon and sent stream of Teflon-coated, armor-piercing rounds toward the nearest beast. Unfortunately, there was another pack of Deathstalkers, and they were coming from the north, opposite of where the Micro Corps agent was presently looking.
At the last moment, Carr had sensed the presence of the other Deathstalkers coming from the other end of the boulevard. He hadn’t the chance to warn Juarez in time and grimaced after seeing his man disappear beneath the fog after being tackled by a leaping Deathstalker. Agent Carr’s initial instinct was to help his friend, but the other two wolf-like soulborgs coming from that direction, forced him to concern himself at the moment with staying alive. He called over to the lawman, “You’ll have to take care of your end Murph. I’ve got company coming from the north.”
Murphy only grunted in acknowledgement. There was no time for further conversation, as the two Deathstalkers fast approached. He sent his whip forth to bring down the leaping red-eyed beast, but to his dismay, the size and weight of the creature rendered the whip useless.
“Nuts!” The lawman muttered as he quickly tilted his waist-level shotgun upward and squeezed of a blast that struck the mechanically aided wolf in the throat from only six feet away. Murphy casually stepped aside as the headless creature flew past him and continued into the large front window of The Cutter Tap, much to the chagrin of the onlookers that had gathered to watch the show from the safety of indoors.
Meanwhile, Carr sent a few rounds toward the nearest rushing mechanical beast coming his way. He then ran toward them and as one leapt for his throat; he dropped to one knee and sliced open the beast’s metal underbelly, and then ducked to let it fly overhead. Before the next Deathstalker got near, the agent spotted a narrow red beam of light projecting from below the fog, near the position that Juarez had been taken down. Then the red line disappeared a moment before a long staccato of lead hitting metal filled the night air. Shortly afterward, the Micro Corps agent stumbled weakly to his feet.
This time, Carr had time to intervene on his friend’s behalf, as the last Deathstalker coming from the north made for the groggy Cpl Juarez. Carr sprang forward from his kneeling position with his Sword of Reckoning leading the way. He barely brushed past Juarez in time to send his blade hilt-deep into the springing beast’s chest. The creature fell dead upon him and the weight took him down to the puddle laden ground. The agent rolled the mechanical wolf-thing off of him and extracted his sword before standing again.
Installment #6
Meanwhile, Murphy ditched his whip for the moment and raised his shotgun with both hands. He stared down the glistening shortened barrel of his weapon, which was aimed toward the fearless creature that was fast approaching. Before the hideous mechanically-enhanced wolf could begin its leap, the lawman fired off his last three rounds down range and stood ready to use his shotgun as a club if needed. As usual his aim was true and his weapon of choice was effective; for as he stood his ground, a ball of mottled fur and steel came rolling his way, only to stop just short of his leather booted feet. He spat wad of tobacco juice down toward the dead creature and then turned his attention to his comrades that were walking toward him.
“Did you at least get it Murph?” Carr asked.
The lawman reached into one of his large pockets in his coat and pulled out a black, marble-like stone that had unusual engravings precisely carved into it. The glyph was rectangular in shape, an inch thick and the size of man’s hand. “I don’t know how the “vests” got a hold of this thing, but they obviously didn’t know what to do with it other than pawn it. When I got wind of this from some contacts of mine, I had this meeting arranged. Things went well inside until someone in the bar recognized me and kind of blew my cover. The “Vests” had change of heart all of a sudden after the deal was done, thus the fun out here,” Murphy explained.
The calm was interrupted by a short burst from Juarez’s assault weapon, as he sent the mechanical rats scattering once again.
“Pesky little buggers ain’t they,” the lawman commented in his gravely voice.
Carr replied, “Yeah, they’re annoying, but the Deathstalkers are quite the nasties if they get close enough. Speaking of which, are you okay Juarez? I thought we lost you.”
The Micro Corps agent smiled with his perfectly white teeth and answered, “Gotta love the suit man. I’m bruised pretty good but the beast couldn’t penetrate the suit with those fangs, thank god. We wrestled a bit and I eventually got it off me long enough to get a burst off with my weapon. So here I am, fit to fight another day.”
“Great! And you can count on fighting another day son. What’s not great is the fact that General Utgar has somehow found out about our little mission here to retrieve the glyph, and sent his new assassins to take you out Murph. He’s got to have an agent with contacts here on earth, do you have any guesses?” Carr asked.
Murphy spat more tobacco juice to the fog covered ground and sneered, “Yeah, I would bet the house that his agent would be McCreetch. That two-timing sneaky little punk must be playing both sides.”
Carr shook his head and said, “We’ll deal with him when the time comes. But that begs the question of whether General Einar has chosen to side with Utgar or if McCreetch has gone rogue and is acting on his own. For now though, we have to return to Valhalla ASAP with the glyph and the rest of the munitions.”
“I’m sure the rest of us gun-toters up there will appreciate having the surplus to last a good while,” Cpl Juarez chimed in with his brilliant smile.
Carr added, “We already brought a good bit back to Sir Hawthorne’s castle while we were waiting for you to get that shiny piece of marble, Murph. One last trip and it's back to the war for us.”
“It was a nice vacation while it lasted, but I guess the party's over,” the lawman concluded.
To Be Continued…