Author's preamble: Short chapter with the continuance of the fight… my apologies if the action sequence seems clunky.
Enjoy!
IX – A Traumatic Continuum
For a man that has little to lose, escaping makes little difference in a battlefield. Not only he would face an inevitable death from a Commissar, he would suffer the kind of disgrace that would be far from salvation… when cowardice would demolish his sole sources of strength, when death leaves nothing behind – of principles and honor, of self-respect and pride.
Crag V taught Calsus just that, and this battle was giving Calsus another chance to prove that the lesson has not been lost.
The vault door was nearly shut, and the idea of escaping never even occurred to Calsus as he dove for the machete, lying dangerously close to the crazed Daemonette. With a roar, the Daemonette hurled the skewered handler aside like a bloody sack and marched to where Calsus was headed. Blood continued streaming out of its gashing head wound with its urge to kill Calsus intensified, increasing its speed to a sprint with every waking step.
Calsus landed on the floor and skidded desperately towards the machete, at the same time, the Daemonette's hideous talons came into sight, arriving right before Calsus. His quickly shifted to an evasive maneuver when its blades drilled viciously down on him like streaks of lightning. Calsus immediately rolled sideways to safety, just to be harassed again by its deadly finesse and unending slashes and jabs. Calsus moved faster this time, sorely being reminded by the throbbing chest wound that the next hit could possibly kill him.
The unyielding volley of slashes began to wear Calsus' patience thin, but when the next strike was imminent, the Daemonette's body twisted sideways, its right blade swooped downwards from a high angle that allowed Calsus an opportunity to counter attack. He immediately moved to block the slash with his right hand and held it off as strongly as he could. Exerting full strength into his left leg, he struck and lifted the Daemon's forward leg to throw the lithe creature off balance. The Daemonette crashed on its back, and Calsus gave it an unhesitating stomp into its belly, quickly making a dash towards the machete while it was stunned.
The creature patience waned as it groaned and spat blood, turning wild and reckless with its legs instinctively moved to trip the desperate combatant in the same favor, causing Calsus to crash and forcing the air out of his lungs. Shaking his head and held his breath, he shrugged the pain off his chest and crawled frantically towards the weapon. At the same time, the Daemon scrambled back to its feet and snarled, gathering its bearings and leapt towards its formidable opponent, its blades begged to be sated, crying out desperately for the Praetorian's blood.
Sensing that the Daemon was close, he turned around to stare directly into the tip of the Daemonette's left blade, and knew there was little he could do.
By miscalculation, by a blunder, everything happened in an instant as the blade struck into the metal floor, inches away from his ears. He could never forget the sadistic laughter of the Daemonette, the gruesome glee on its sinister visage… the horror, when he realized the blade had tore through his left palm in an impulsive attempt to deflect the blow. Through the Praetorian's thick muscles and right through the metacarpal joints, a part of his palm, with the ring and pinky finger attached, was removed entirely.
"ARRGGG!" Calsus howled in excruciating pain while the Daemonette knelt above him, drawing its blades back in a triumphant cry.
It was to kill its prey once and for all.
Its demented eyes bore into Calsus, savoring every moment of Calsus' agony… before realizing the agony was transformed into resolve.
Calsus was not about to give up yet…supported by his spine and arms, Calsus, in a swiftly smooth motion, lifted his pelvis and angled his legs upwards, skillfully wrapping around the Daemonette's midriff and to the back of its head, engaging its arms tightly in a deadlock. The Daemonette squealed in annoyance as Calsus heaved and swung himself upwards, toppling and incapacitating the Daemonette.
As it continued to struggle, Calsus turned back and reached for the machete, close to have it within grasp when the Daemonette's legs flailed wildly, its sharp talons marked several scratch wounds on his face. Grimacing, Calsus quickly held one it's moving feet and tighten the grip of all his limbs. He had to have the machete, as it would not be long until the Daemonette finds a way to break free.
He grit his teeth, ignoring every pain in his body while reaching out for the weapon with his spoiled palm. He held it once, but fumbled and slid away a little further by the blood's slickness and his damaged hand.
He reached out again...the Daemonette was struggling more violently, desperate to be free...
Almost there...
A little more...
Success.
He yelled, tightened and held down all of the Daemon's limbs like an iron lock before he began the butcher…the heavy weapon swung and chopped deeply into the Daemon's thigh – causing it to squeal and jerk brutally, its blood sprayed thick into the air and onto Calsus. The second strike was delivered with more intensity and focus, penetrating shallowly into the bone and nudged it out before he continued to hack again until there was little meat and bones to hold the leg together, falling and hanging off to the side like dead meat.
When the decapitated leg cleared a view of the Daemon's torso, he drove the blade down deep into its belly, again and again, and again, blood and pieces of meat and flesh splurged while the Daemon began to struggle less, its life slowly slipping away with every raging stab.
Calsus was in frenzy, pulling out the machete and swung it right down in the middle of the Daemonette's wounded temple, in a finale to split its Daemonic visage in two.
It stopped struggling.
Calsus could scarcely believe it, taking a deep breath before releasing his grip on the Daemonette and the machete, his hand was getting too tired and weak as a cause of the uncontrollable bleeding and the arduous hacking. He looked at the Daemonette's face once more, not entirely convinced it was dead.
"Fuck," he cursed, prying the machete out of its skull and promptly began his work to remove all of its remaining limbs in paranoia.