Life's Mirage
I do not own VHD;B but I really wish that I did...
It was dark and cold...everything hurt. He tried to move, damn, that hurt worse. He managed to sit up slowly, leaning against a cool smooth surface, which eased the throbbing ache in his skull, and attempted to get his thoughts in order. "Where am I?" He asked into the stillness, surprised by the sound of his own voice, it sounded thick and slow, like he'd been drugged or something, he decided to blame it on the pain. He paused for a few moments thinking hard... "No idea. Start with something easier... who am I?" It was easier to speak out loud, the hope that someone might hear him; combined with how well it kept his thoughts on topic encouraged the behavior, besides the more he talked the easier it became, so much less forced. For a terrifying two minutes he was at a complete loss, then he found it. "Oh yeah... I'm Borgoff...Markus, that sounds right." He still couldn't stand and only one eye seemed to be working correctly, he tried to come up with a reason for why that might be. For the time being he decided it might be a good idea to just check for broken bones, he slowly moved his left leg, then his right. They trembled from exhaustion, but seemed fine. Then he tried the left arm, good that worked fine too, fingers and all...now for the right. He couldn't move it. Hell, he couldn't even feel it; his shoulder hurt a hell of a lot though. Borgoff craned his neck gently in order to get himself into a position where his good eye could take in what the damage was. "Holy shit!!!!!" His arm was gone! Not, broken or mangled but damn freakin' gone!! Damn...that explained why his shoulder burned so badly.
Wincing from the pain, Borgoff managed to stagger to his feet about ten minutes later, still leaning against the wall for support, he looked around. It struck him suddenly...where he was...Chaythe. "I'm still in the castle?" He asked in surprise, staring at the once finely sculpted walls and pillars, now mostly broken and, well, trashed. He was struck again by a very odd sensation that something wasn't right, aside from his arm...something was out of place. Oh, well. He could see the remains of a staircase spiraling away on his right and a deep hole at least two floors down. "How'd I get up here?" He asked softly, the last place he remembered being was...the basement... He shivered unexpectedly; just the thought of the basement made him feel terrified...no idea why though. "Did I get hurt down there or something?" He asked, feeling lost. Hadn't he come in with someone? Yes! "Leila?" He called, but received no reply...was she ok? He switched on the transmitter in his ear. "Leila?" Static. The moon shone clearly over the crumbled remains of the castle now that over half the roof was gone, suddenly he stiffened, the moon? He and Leila had gone in during the day...he must have been out for a long time and- His eye widened before he began making his way down the half staircase as fast as he could. "Grove!"
Cursing himself for stupidity, Borgoff finally dropped to the ground, clear of the pillars and doors. Where the hell was the stupid tank? He spotted it off to the left; it looked slightly battered but not enough that it was truly damaged. He raced toward it as fast as his shaking limbs would take him. "Grove! Can you hear me? Grove?" Wrenching the door open with his remaining hand, Borgoff clambered in, still calling his little brother's name and feeling panicked. Was Grove asleep? Why didn't he answer? Stupid dark! He managed to switch on a light up front that still worked, and turned. "G-grove?" Grove was hanging off the bed at an odd angle, the jolt the tank had received from a falling pillar had knocked the corpse sideways a bit and the end result was that the two skinny arms had snapped like twigs as Grove's body fell halfway off the bed. His eyes had closed and the silver hair hung in a small curtain around his face, the empty syringe lay about three feet from him on the floor. Borgoff stood motionless for a few seconds, unable to accept what his eye showed him, before he shot over to his younger brother. "Grove! Grove, dear God! No! No....Grove..." Borgoff's voice trailed off into a soft wail as he awkwardly lifted his brother up and cradled him against his chest. Burying his face in the soft silver hair Borgoff shuddered for a while, calling for all of his little brothers as loss drained his soul, then he just cried.
After about an hour Borgoff stood again, he carefully replaced Grove on the bed and stroked his hair, whimpering soft apologies over and over again as tears continued to stream from his good eye. He made as though to walk up front before stumbling in reverse into the bathroom in the back and proceeding to vomit his stomachs contents. After that unpleasant experience had run it's course he washed his face in the sink, then looked up into the mirror, to try and see what was wrong with his eye, and froze. "What...?" There in the reflection was the back of the door, the toilet, and the edge of the sink...but... Borgoff's mouth fell open as the information took a few seconds to register, then he grabbed both sides of the mirror and shook it, demanding more. "WHERE THE HELL AM I??" He shrieked in panic, gazing at the mirror from all angles, trying to locate his reflection...but to no avail. He sank to the floor, terrified, as his hand flew to his throat. Nothing, he moved it across the jugular vein, still nothing, then onto the left...there, two puncture wounds... "No..." He whispered. "No...no, I can't..." He shook his head in denial, this couldn't be happening, it was impossible; he was a Markus brother for crying out loud! He raced out of the bathroom to the front of the tank. He tried the review mirrors, the lights, even that stupid pocket mirror that Kyle used to carry around...nothing. "I-I'm..." Borgoff let his voice trail off. "A vampire...?"
He was driving, it was pitch black out and Borgoff was glad the headlights still worked, he was heading for that bridge again...the one where Kyle... Before leaving Borgoff had checked around out front, searching for any sign that Leila might still be alive. He found her communicator, lying in the dirt; around it were her footprints...and a horse's. That Dunpeal must have offered her a ride or something...he hoped she was still all right. Memories had cascaded back through Borgoff's mind while he had been coming to terms with his new situation. Kyle's death, the loss of his eye to that damn barboroi, he and Leila abandoning Grove, those false hallucinations of his brothers in the basement, the pain in his back...in his neck. His hand moved up to massage his throat again. He remembered how that damn vampiress had crammed him into a corner of his own mind, nearly forced him to kill his adopted sister before...Grove. Grove looking so sad, pain...that was how he'd lost his arm, Grove hugging him, Grove whispering his older brothers' name softly and pressing his face to Borgoff's chest lovingly, his features twisted in emotional agony and then... He had flown backwards from the explosion, probably straight through a wall, then he must have blacked out. He drove carefully over the bridge, avoiding the holes that he had put there with bombs only yesterday, before reaching the other side.
Borgoff stepped out of the tank and walked slowly over to the patch of disturbed earth. Kyle's grave. He was shocked to find that there was a small bouquet of blue flowers lying on the top; and allowed himself a small smile as tears began running down his face again. "Leila...you always did like flowers didn't you?" Sure enough back around the front of the tank, he found hoof prints, and Leila's footprints...she had stopped the Dunpeal just for Kyle...that was unusually sweet of her. He re-entered the tank and emerged a few seconds later with a shovel, and began awkwardly digging a new resting place...right next to Kyle's. Grove would've approved he thought; Grove and Kyle had always been so close. An hour later he went back to collect Grove. He ran his fingers through the silver hair one more time and scooped the frail form up against his chest, then headed out.
Some time later he stepped back to observe his work, the two graves now had small headstones, each with their owners names carved clumsily (Borgoff was not left handed) onto them...he glanced at Kyle's again and decided that Grove would have wanted some flowers too. He chuckled softly as he remembered. Grove always wanted whatever Kyle got once, when Grove was seven and Kyle was ten, he had bought Kyle an ice cream cone and even though Grove had been complaining loudly for a hot dog for the past half hour he had immediately switched his order to ice cream...same flavor and all. After a short search spent lost in memories, he found what he had been looking for, a small patch of the same kind that Leila had picked for Kyle. He reached gingerly down to select one...and gave a cry of horror when it withered and died instantly from his touch. He couldn't help himself, he cried again, for a long time. Finally he managed to make a small cross out of wood (half expecting it to melt or something) and placed that on Grove's resting place instead of flowers.
Driving again, the sun had just barely begun to peek over the horizon and Borgoff felt oddly light headed. It happened so suddenly that he didn't even have time to realize what was naturally going to occur. "Oh my God!" Borgoff cried as his arm burst into flame. "Shit!" He raced to the windowless bathroom and slammed the door shut, turning the water on full blast and dousing his arm. Breathing heavily, he sat down on the floor with a thump, nursing his burned arm and hissing in pain. "Oh, so now I can't even go OUTSIDE?!? Does someone think this is funny or something?!?" He shouted and cursed for a while until realization started to sink in...he couldn't go outside during the day...ever. "Damn..."
He'd always loved sunsets too...figures. Staying locked in the bathroom for fifteen hours wasn't exactly fun, but it was better than the alternative seemed to be. "I've been a vampire for one day an' I'm already contemplating suicide..." Borgoff grumbled when it was finally safe to come out again. He quickly put the tank in gear and worked on moving it to a less conspicuous spot. His conscience wouldn't leave him alone. All day it had made him feel sick with the seemingly thousands of opportunities that might possibly have presented themselves so that he could have saved his family. The most obvious being to have never taken the job from that maniacal bastard, Albourne...him and his snotty kid. "Hope he's havin' a damn good laugh over this." Borgoff growled, feeling a strong sense of hatred that he didn't recall dredging up on his own.
After a long while he managed to find a cave that went far enough into a hillside to hide the tank. "Finally," He muttered. "The night's too short all of a sudden..." He felt exhausted and hungry; bending over he grabbed a sausage from under the seat, managed to unwrap it, and bit off a hunk. He was shocked when it literally turned to ash in his mouth. Uttering a cry of disgust he spat the damp dust out. Then stared at the sausage in disbelief ...felt like it was laughing at him...hell, felt like the whole world was having a good laugh at his misfortune. A deep gut instinct told him to go out and chew on somebody, but he beat the feeling down with revulsion, no WAY was he killing anyone. He wasn't going to damn himself! Not that he wasn't already or anything... Feeling horribly depressed, Borgoff slumped over the wheel and whimpered to himself for a while. He felt desolate, abandoned, and lonely and it had only been one day! The sun was already rising. No good...over soon then...
Leila jumped down off the horse, hitting the ground with a soft grunt before gazing upwards at D. "Thank you." She said, giving a soft smile as she brushed her bangs out of her face. "You didn't have to bring me here, but I sure appreciate it." The Dunpeal nodded gravely, he was preoccupied, having had the strangest sensation that they had been followed the whole time. "You're welcome," He murmured in his usual monotone. "Will you be all right here?" Leila felt surprised that he had even asked. "Yeah, I'll be fine, this is a nice big town I'm sure I can weasel a job off of someone." She replied, usual cocky grin in place. D felt reassured for her safety, she was a tough human, she would be fine. "Then I must go." Leila looked somewhat saddened by the suddenness of the closure. "You sure?" She asked. "Couldn't you just stay for a little while?" It suddenly struck D that she must be feeling an enormous amount of loss, which made her vulnerable. Even though he had split the reward money with her, she needed emotional care as well as financial. "I'll visit." He said reluctantly, turning his horse back the way they had come. "But now I have other business to attend to." Leila looked placated by this statement and waved goodbye until he was out of sight...then she looked for the nearest bar, and bought a beer.
D rode his horse hard and fast along the road he and Leila had taken to Garucia. He was sure they had been followed, but as of yet there had been no sign of anything. This naturally made the Dunpeal paranoid; he was continuously scanning the sky, half expecting an ariel attack at any moment when he found them. Tracks, big ones too from a large vehicle, they veered off to the right and seemed to be going in the direction of the hillside caverns. "What is it?" a voice asked from D's left. "Tracks..." D replied sounding bored when really his thoughts were racing...those marks looked so familiar... "See if you can make anything of them." The Dunpeal murmured, pushing his left hand down into the tracks. A few moments passed as the hand muttered to itself, sounding more and more agitated as each second passed. "But-but! This is absurd!" The hand spluttered. "Why?" D asked, still trying to sound unconcerned. "These are the same markings that the competition's tank made!" D stood, and gazed off toward the hills. "I thought so..." He whispered. Left hand snorted in annoyance. "You're not gonna bother going to look are you?" It asked incredulously. "I mean come on! It was bad enough for you to share money with that- that...girl. Tell me you aren't gonna waste time lookin' for that stupid tank, that someone probably stole, when we could be getting ourselves a new quarry?" D didn't bother to answer; he simply mounted the horse and headed off in the direction of the tracks.
Borgoff sat huddled in the back of the tank, attempting to get some sleep. He had passed out for a while apparently, because it looked like it was getting dark at the cave's entrance. He reached forward to grab the blanket, which had fallen off, and did a double take. "Wha?" He had reached forward, out of habit, with his right arm...and the damn thing was there! "How the hell?" Borgoff asked the silence in amazement as he cautiously moved his fingers then the whole arm. "So they do regenerate..." He muttered, still marveling over the renewed use of his arm, when he noticed that his vision wasn't off either...his eye was back too. "Wish humans could do that." He murmured, feeling amazed. "Be damn helpful..." He stood slowly, still feeling terrible. He really was starving, but what was the use thinking about it, he had already decided that he wasn't going to kill anything...even if it meant dying...probably better off dead anyway. He stumbled out of the tank and surveyed his surroundings. A small stream off to the left, and just rocks to the right. "Oh, wonderful..." Borgoff muttered sarcastically. "I really wanted to spend the rest of my life in a hole..." He had just moved towards the stream when his legs trembled violently and collapsed. Panting, Borgoff heaved himself upright and dragged himself back towards the tank, he always felt better when he was on it...it was his home after all. "I'm not dying out here..." He whispered stubbornly to himself, as he managed to shut the door and crawl back to his former position in the corner. "Damn I feel sick..." He whimpered, curling up into a ball. "Please, no more. I wanna go home." He whispered, as tears began running down his face again. "I-I want my family back...I just wanna go home..."
I do not own VHD;B but I really wish that I did...
It was dark and cold...everything hurt. He tried to move, damn, that hurt worse. He managed to sit up slowly, leaning against a cool smooth surface, which eased the throbbing ache in his skull, and attempted to get his thoughts in order. "Where am I?" He asked into the stillness, surprised by the sound of his own voice, it sounded thick and slow, like he'd been drugged or something, he decided to blame it on the pain. He paused for a few moments thinking hard... "No idea. Start with something easier... who am I?" It was easier to speak out loud, the hope that someone might hear him; combined with how well it kept his thoughts on topic encouraged the behavior, besides the more he talked the easier it became, so much less forced. For a terrifying two minutes he was at a complete loss, then he found it. "Oh yeah... I'm Borgoff...Markus, that sounds right." He still couldn't stand and only one eye seemed to be working correctly, he tried to come up with a reason for why that might be. For the time being he decided it might be a good idea to just check for broken bones, he slowly moved his left leg, then his right. They trembled from exhaustion, but seemed fine. Then he tried the left arm, good that worked fine too, fingers and all...now for the right. He couldn't move it. Hell, he couldn't even feel it; his shoulder hurt a hell of a lot though. Borgoff craned his neck gently in order to get himself into a position where his good eye could take in what the damage was. "Holy shit!!!!!" His arm was gone! Not, broken or mangled but damn freakin' gone!! Damn...that explained why his shoulder burned so badly.
Wincing from the pain, Borgoff managed to stagger to his feet about ten minutes later, still leaning against the wall for support, he looked around. It struck him suddenly...where he was...Chaythe. "I'm still in the castle?" He asked in surprise, staring at the once finely sculpted walls and pillars, now mostly broken and, well, trashed. He was struck again by a very odd sensation that something wasn't right, aside from his arm...something was out of place. Oh, well. He could see the remains of a staircase spiraling away on his right and a deep hole at least two floors down. "How'd I get up here?" He asked softly, the last place he remembered being was...the basement... He shivered unexpectedly; just the thought of the basement made him feel terrified...no idea why though. "Did I get hurt down there or something?" He asked, feeling lost. Hadn't he come in with someone? Yes! "Leila?" He called, but received no reply...was she ok? He switched on the transmitter in his ear. "Leila?" Static. The moon shone clearly over the crumbled remains of the castle now that over half the roof was gone, suddenly he stiffened, the moon? He and Leila had gone in during the day...he must have been out for a long time and- His eye widened before he began making his way down the half staircase as fast as he could. "Grove!"
Cursing himself for stupidity, Borgoff finally dropped to the ground, clear of the pillars and doors. Where the hell was the stupid tank? He spotted it off to the left; it looked slightly battered but not enough that it was truly damaged. He raced toward it as fast as his shaking limbs would take him. "Grove! Can you hear me? Grove?" Wrenching the door open with his remaining hand, Borgoff clambered in, still calling his little brother's name and feeling panicked. Was Grove asleep? Why didn't he answer? Stupid dark! He managed to switch on a light up front that still worked, and turned. "G-grove?" Grove was hanging off the bed at an odd angle, the jolt the tank had received from a falling pillar had knocked the corpse sideways a bit and the end result was that the two skinny arms had snapped like twigs as Grove's body fell halfway off the bed. His eyes had closed and the silver hair hung in a small curtain around his face, the empty syringe lay about three feet from him on the floor. Borgoff stood motionless for a few seconds, unable to accept what his eye showed him, before he shot over to his younger brother. "Grove! Grove, dear God! No! No....Grove..." Borgoff's voice trailed off into a soft wail as he awkwardly lifted his brother up and cradled him against his chest. Burying his face in the soft silver hair Borgoff shuddered for a while, calling for all of his little brothers as loss drained his soul, then he just cried.
After about an hour Borgoff stood again, he carefully replaced Grove on the bed and stroked his hair, whimpering soft apologies over and over again as tears continued to stream from his good eye. He made as though to walk up front before stumbling in reverse into the bathroom in the back and proceeding to vomit his stomachs contents. After that unpleasant experience had run it's course he washed his face in the sink, then looked up into the mirror, to try and see what was wrong with his eye, and froze. "What...?" There in the reflection was the back of the door, the toilet, and the edge of the sink...but... Borgoff's mouth fell open as the information took a few seconds to register, then he grabbed both sides of the mirror and shook it, demanding more. "WHERE THE HELL AM I??" He shrieked in panic, gazing at the mirror from all angles, trying to locate his reflection...but to no avail. He sank to the floor, terrified, as his hand flew to his throat. Nothing, he moved it across the jugular vein, still nothing, then onto the left...there, two puncture wounds... "No..." He whispered. "No...no, I can't..." He shook his head in denial, this couldn't be happening, it was impossible; he was a Markus brother for crying out loud! He raced out of the bathroom to the front of the tank. He tried the review mirrors, the lights, even that stupid pocket mirror that Kyle used to carry around...nothing. "I-I'm..." Borgoff let his voice trail off. "A vampire...?"
He was driving, it was pitch black out and Borgoff was glad the headlights still worked, he was heading for that bridge again...the one where Kyle... Before leaving Borgoff had checked around out front, searching for any sign that Leila might still be alive. He found her communicator, lying in the dirt; around it were her footprints...and a horse's. That Dunpeal must have offered her a ride or something...he hoped she was still all right. Memories had cascaded back through Borgoff's mind while he had been coming to terms with his new situation. Kyle's death, the loss of his eye to that damn barboroi, he and Leila abandoning Grove, those false hallucinations of his brothers in the basement, the pain in his back...in his neck. His hand moved up to massage his throat again. He remembered how that damn vampiress had crammed him into a corner of his own mind, nearly forced him to kill his adopted sister before...Grove. Grove looking so sad, pain...that was how he'd lost his arm, Grove hugging him, Grove whispering his older brothers' name softly and pressing his face to Borgoff's chest lovingly, his features twisted in emotional agony and then... He had flown backwards from the explosion, probably straight through a wall, then he must have blacked out. He drove carefully over the bridge, avoiding the holes that he had put there with bombs only yesterday, before reaching the other side.
Borgoff stepped out of the tank and walked slowly over to the patch of disturbed earth. Kyle's grave. He was shocked to find that there was a small bouquet of blue flowers lying on the top; and allowed himself a small smile as tears began running down his face again. "Leila...you always did like flowers didn't you?" Sure enough back around the front of the tank, he found hoof prints, and Leila's footprints...she had stopped the Dunpeal just for Kyle...that was unusually sweet of her. He re-entered the tank and emerged a few seconds later with a shovel, and began awkwardly digging a new resting place...right next to Kyle's. Grove would've approved he thought; Grove and Kyle had always been so close. An hour later he went back to collect Grove. He ran his fingers through the silver hair one more time and scooped the frail form up against his chest, then headed out.
Some time later he stepped back to observe his work, the two graves now had small headstones, each with their owners names carved clumsily (Borgoff was not left handed) onto them...he glanced at Kyle's again and decided that Grove would have wanted some flowers too. He chuckled softly as he remembered. Grove always wanted whatever Kyle got once, when Grove was seven and Kyle was ten, he had bought Kyle an ice cream cone and even though Grove had been complaining loudly for a hot dog for the past half hour he had immediately switched his order to ice cream...same flavor and all. After a short search spent lost in memories, he found what he had been looking for, a small patch of the same kind that Leila had picked for Kyle. He reached gingerly down to select one...and gave a cry of horror when it withered and died instantly from his touch. He couldn't help himself, he cried again, for a long time. Finally he managed to make a small cross out of wood (half expecting it to melt or something) and placed that on Grove's resting place instead of flowers.
Driving again, the sun had just barely begun to peek over the horizon and Borgoff felt oddly light headed. It happened so suddenly that he didn't even have time to realize what was naturally going to occur. "Oh my God!" Borgoff cried as his arm burst into flame. "Shit!" He raced to the windowless bathroom and slammed the door shut, turning the water on full blast and dousing his arm. Breathing heavily, he sat down on the floor with a thump, nursing his burned arm and hissing in pain. "Oh, so now I can't even go OUTSIDE?!? Does someone think this is funny or something?!?" He shouted and cursed for a while until realization started to sink in...he couldn't go outside during the day...ever. "Damn..."
He'd always loved sunsets too...figures. Staying locked in the bathroom for fifteen hours wasn't exactly fun, but it was better than the alternative seemed to be. "I've been a vampire for one day an' I'm already contemplating suicide..." Borgoff grumbled when it was finally safe to come out again. He quickly put the tank in gear and worked on moving it to a less conspicuous spot. His conscience wouldn't leave him alone. All day it had made him feel sick with the seemingly thousands of opportunities that might possibly have presented themselves so that he could have saved his family. The most obvious being to have never taken the job from that maniacal bastard, Albourne...him and his snotty kid. "Hope he's havin' a damn good laugh over this." Borgoff growled, feeling a strong sense of hatred that he didn't recall dredging up on his own.
After a long while he managed to find a cave that went far enough into a hillside to hide the tank. "Finally," He muttered. "The night's too short all of a sudden..." He felt exhausted and hungry; bending over he grabbed a sausage from under the seat, managed to unwrap it, and bit off a hunk. He was shocked when it literally turned to ash in his mouth. Uttering a cry of disgust he spat the damp dust out. Then stared at the sausage in disbelief ...felt like it was laughing at him...hell, felt like the whole world was having a good laugh at his misfortune. A deep gut instinct told him to go out and chew on somebody, but he beat the feeling down with revulsion, no WAY was he killing anyone. He wasn't going to damn himself! Not that he wasn't already or anything... Feeling horribly depressed, Borgoff slumped over the wheel and whimpered to himself for a while. He felt desolate, abandoned, and lonely and it had only been one day! The sun was already rising. No good...over soon then...
Leila jumped down off the horse, hitting the ground with a soft grunt before gazing upwards at D. "Thank you." She said, giving a soft smile as she brushed her bangs out of her face. "You didn't have to bring me here, but I sure appreciate it." The Dunpeal nodded gravely, he was preoccupied, having had the strangest sensation that they had been followed the whole time. "You're welcome," He murmured in his usual monotone. "Will you be all right here?" Leila felt surprised that he had even asked. "Yeah, I'll be fine, this is a nice big town I'm sure I can weasel a job off of someone." She replied, usual cocky grin in place. D felt reassured for her safety, she was a tough human, she would be fine. "Then I must go." Leila looked somewhat saddened by the suddenness of the closure. "You sure?" She asked. "Couldn't you just stay for a little while?" It suddenly struck D that she must be feeling an enormous amount of loss, which made her vulnerable. Even though he had split the reward money with her, she needed emotional care as well as financial. "I'll visit." He said reluctantly, turning his horse back the way they had come. "But now I have other business to attend to." Leila looked placated by this statement and waved goodbye until he was out of sight...then she looked for the nearest bar, and bought a beer.
D rode his horse hard and fast along the road he and Leila had taken to Garucia. He was sure they had been followed, but as of yet there had been no sign of anything. This naturally made the Dunpeal paranoid; he was continuously scanning the sky, half expecting an ariel attack at any moment when he found them. Tracks, big ones too from a large vehicle, they veered off to the right and seemed to be going in the direction of the hillside caverns. "What is it?" a voice asked from D's left. "Tracks..." D replied sounding bored when really his thoughts were racing...those marks looked so familiar... "See if you can make anything of them." The Dunpeal murmured, pushing his left hand down into the tracks. A few moments passed as the hand muttered to itself, sounding more and more agitated as each second passed. "But-but! This is absurd!" The hand spluttered. "Why?" D asked, still trying to sound unconcerned. "These are the same markings that the competition's tank made!" D stood, and gazed off toward the hills. "I thought so..." He whispered. Left hand snorted in annoyance. "You're not gonna bother going to look are you?" It asked incredulously. "I mean come on! It was bad enough for you to share money with that- that...girl. Tell me you aren't gonna waste time lookin' for that stupid tank, that someone probably stole, when we could be getting ourselves a new quarry?" D didn't bother to answer; he simply mounted the horse and headed off in the direction of the tracks.
Borgoff sat huddled in the back of the tank, attempting to get some sleep. He had passed out for a while apparently, because it looked like it was getting dark at the cave's entrance. He reached forward to grab the blanket, which had fallen off, and did a double take. "Wha?" He had reached forward, out of habit, with his right arm...and the damn thing was there! "How the hell?" Borgoff asked the silence in amazement as he cautiously moved his fingers then the whole arm. "So they do regenerate..." He muttered, still marveling over the renewed use of his arm, when he noticed that his vision wasn't off either...his eye was back too. "Wish humans could do that." He murmured, feeling amazed. "Be damn helpful..." He stood slowly, still feeling terrible. He really was starving, but what was the use thinking about it, he had already decided that he wasn't going to kill anything...even if it meant dying...probably better off dead anyway. He stumbled out of the tank and surveyed his surroundings. A small stream off to the left, and just rocks to the right. "Oh, wonderful..." Borgoff muttered sarcastically. "I really wanted to spend the rest of my life in a hole..." He had just moved towards the stream when his legs trembled violently and collapsed. Panting, Borgoff heaved himself upright and dragged himself back towards the tank, he always felt better when he was on it...it was his home after all. "I'm not dying out here..." He whispered stubbornly to himself, as he managed to shut the door and crawl back to his former position in the corner. "Damn I feel sick..." He whimpered, curling up into a ball. "Please, no more. I wanna go home." He whispered, as tears began running down his face again. "I-I want my family back...I just wanna go home..."