Hi!

Well, been a while, but I'm back. For those curious, hand took a while to recover and when it did, I had to do some personal stuff which kept me distracted from working on this. Now, that distraction still goes on, but I'm able to return to this now and keep working on it.

Expect updates every 2 weeks now, have a lot of stuff on my plate and I want to keep on top of it all.

So yeah, sorry for the wait. Back to the Wireless Child.

Chapter 9

Six's heart hammered against her chest. The branches of the bush whipped against her clothes as she pushed into it. Her skin stung, but she kept beam of light chased her, she flinched at the sound of the bush being crushed behind her.

Seconds.

That's all she had, mere seconds.

And the Monster made sure she knew that. Its gaze was hot and heavy on her back, she was only just beyond the fingers and it grasp futile against the air she had vacated. It seemed futile to run, and it was.

She could only just keep herself ahead of it, and that was by taking advantage of every bit of shrubbery she could. The thing's size impeded it, delayed it, and she was thankful for that. Pushing past a tree, and a shadow shifted within it. She didn't dare look, but the beam snapped up to it and watched it for brief second.

And the boom of its weapon rang out into the air. There was a brief sound, of something trying to scream out in surprise, but the hail of shot silenced it. She'd seen the weapon rip things apart, pull limbs from bodies, bifurcate…

At least the bird's death was quick.

The moment of respite it offered gave her a chance to check, to think for a second as the monster reloaded and confirmed its kill.

The swamp to her right, she could see a break in the distance. The tree's terminated and opened to a field of tall grass. The grass would provide cover… the creature's height would counter that advantage, but it wouldn't help overmuch. Too small, and he too tall.

The thought made her recall about being a 'short-stack'. She cleared that memory quickly though; it didn't matter anymore.

The creature's weapon snapped open, and she counted the seconds. It took it three seconds to load it once opened.

Three. She eyed the terrain between her and the cover of the field. It was a deep gorge. No ability to out-manoeuvre the beast, but the craggy outcrops would give her hiding places. Especially with its twisting nature. The floor was littered by refuse, small and large. Trees, toys, bikes, carcasses… It was ideal, the details were just about visible.

Two.

She moved forward.

The dash to the gorge wouldn't be quick enough to escape its eye, even when it confirmed the hunted creature was killed. Thirty metres? Maybe more? Over open ground.

Tight…

The shells slotted in, and her bare feet complained about the sharp stones that were beginning to makes themselves apparent. Each one was a prick, like running across wire. Was she bleeding? Six couldn't tell.

She didn't let her body slow her, and the adrenaline made ignoring it easy.

The weapon locked, and the beast took a step forward and peered around the tree. The bloody remains, a blasted apart raven, and it nodded its head before it's gaze snapped back to where she had been. The light shone over where she had been when it fired, and it swept wide. She could see it over her shoulder, as it made its guttural shout of frustration.

The beam immediately came up; she turned her head to avoid being blinded.

The plodding monster bound forward.

It had wide strides, even with how short its legs were when compared to its body. Each bound was hobbled, and the thick clothes and bounds of its body wobbled, but it kept moving with ease. And the act nearly made her freeze.

It had never run before…

And now it was sprinting, at full force towards her.

Her heart leapt into her chest, and the creature made no attempt to slowdown. Looking forward, her stomach clenched.

She was so close; the drop into the gorge was so close.

One foot, then another, the drums of fear and panic. She didn't look down, instead focussing on the dark abyss that offered her respite from the monster. Her heart in her ear, her very breath stinging her chest, the mere act of running tore at her legs.

She was pain, driven on by the hope of tall grass.

The gorge drew ever closer, and all she had to do was run. Run faster, run harder, run more. She got to the edge, and didn't even check as she leapt into it. Into the safety of that dark valley. The darkness promised a short fall, but one that was supported by the slope of the bank. Steep and fast, she slid into it. Straight into safety.

The impact struck like a bolt of lightning.

Her ribs groaned, and she gasped out.

Thick tendrils crushed her chest. Each finger was the tightening coil of a constrictor, and her air was robbed. The beast hefted her up, and she was being carried on by the monstrous beast.

Its eye stared into her, bloodshot and damaged. The creature's laboured breath turned victorious, even as it stumbled under its own weight. The laughter of a wet bog bubbled past non-existent lips, and she hammered her tiny hands against it. She rolled in its grasp, the beast flipping her over in its grip and checking her over.

She was its pristine specimen.

She pushed and battered against its grip.

She'd been so close!

Six let herself lookback towards the gorge, and she supressed the sound that threatened to escape her. Instead, she squirmed harder, and bit into the sausage fat meat of its hands. His eye widened in its hood, and the creature looked forwards. Its feet kicked up stone, and it tried to dig its boots into the smooth ground.

The rain betrayed it. The mud, the smooth wet stone, it's grotesque fat trundling body, and the weapon and its ammo.

They conspired against the Hunter.

They stumbled, slamming shoulder first down, and slid

Six hadn't the chance to scream, not before the void raced for her. And even if she had the final, guttural, mucous laced cry of anger and frustration would have completely drowned her out.

What was meant to be a controlled slide, became a sheer and sudden drop.

She didn't even feel the impact.

The air gave no immediate hints.

He'd heard the shot, that deafening report of the fat monster's weapon. He had no real idea where it had come from, a loose sense of direction, but it must have been chasing after Six.

Whether that was the reason she had left him alone, or if that had simply been how it ended up after she ditched him, was unclear. But the undeniable truth was that the beast was hunting, like the disgusting predator it was. He could image it, slowly moving forward, weapon raised. Checking every twitching shadow and uncertain mass of black. The thing's dead-shot eye, aim immaculate and precise, analysing every sound, snapping to inspect it.

Was that why it inhaled in such a disgusting fashion? Instead of taking in air to survive, it tried to smell you out? Was the beast really that well learned, that capable, that it could literally smell you against your surroundings?

His small framed strained against a branch, shoving the offender aside before ducking below it coming back in spite.

He was met with more trees and bushes, and he found no trace of their direction. The sound gave him a good bearing, but the hunter had somehow managed to avoid destroying the foliage in its passing. Was he travelling the right way? Surely, he was.

The trees' seemed undisturbed. They still had the sign of rain clinging desperately to them, seemingly refusing gravity's demand that they fall. But that also meant that they hadn't been shoved aside by his companion or her deadly assailant.

But as his hand came up to his face, it was very much possible that that wasn't the case. The rain was heavy, even through the shield of the canopy. It was possible… No, it was very much likely that the rain had simply replenished its hold on the leaves. He pushed the water from his head, from his mask, and figured it would be useless to focus on the rain.

He took another sniff, inhaling the less but still noticeably pungent air. He tried to identify it, separate the myriad of awful, calm, stinging, soothing, pleasant, sickly smells that comprised the air. He knew what the air would smell like after that weapon was unleashed, the acrid tang of propellant. What it was? He had no real clue, he knew it was bity, tiny specks of something. But he knew its smell.

It was there. Between everything, it was there, this tiny bite at the back of his nose. And he could, weirdly enough, taste it more than anything. The mixture confounded his attempts to narrow it down, the sickly stench of rot determined to distracted him. He couldn't tell which was it was coming from, the air was whipping too randomly to be certain.

But it was there, and if he could keep its taste to mind, then he was on the right track.

Mono moved forward a bit more, and looked at the ground as he moved.

That fat beast wore those heavy boots, the plodding but almost indestructible leather boots that crewed up the dirt as it went. It must have left veritable craters wherever it trod, with each crashing footfall biting deep into the malleable mud before sucking it up as it kept up its inexorable stride.

It chewed up everything it passed.

Except this rain was making it nigh impossible to see.

Puddles, some as deep as your knee, blanketed the ground. The forest was soon threatening to become a bog, such was the downpour. It hid everything below the water, and it made it clear that nature would be no ally of his today. Mono's eye, somewhat trained in hunting small animals whose tracks were far from easy to see, struggled against this seemingly backwards situation.

The mud was meant to aid in tracking, making the hints of movement more apparent. And given the Hunter was a heavy-set creature who stomped with the ferocity of a wild beast, the mud should have provided plenty of evidence and aid.

But the rain seemed so intense, or persistent, that it was hiding the tracks of the chase instead.

Mono gave up, at least with his eyes.

This wasn't working, not properly. He walked forward, climbing over the roots of an old tree before sitting himself on them. He reached down to his left, and picked a bit of loose detritus, a stone that had somehow been abandoned in the crevices of the wood. Maybe it had been blown there, or deposited from between the hooves of a creature.

But that wasn't important.

No, the sound it made as it bounced off the dead carcass of a bit was.

It squished against the flesh of a small black raven, making a solid sound as it deflected off of its bony skull. The stone vanished into the night, having fulfilled its job. Mono put his hands on his face and stared at the ground.

Why am I doing this? The question burned in his mind, even as his heart urged him to carry on. He wanted to help her, But his brain… Why am I trying to help her? She's made her choice and gone on her own way, why am I following?

He struggled with that, and he felt the idea sit heavy in his chest. The logical outcome of those thoughts was simple. He was having to ask why, which meant he didn't know. If he didn't know, then he really should just move on and leave her. The Hunter's behaviour said that she wasn't at risk of harm. Well… Not of physical or intentional harm. The beast's starvation of her was possibly….

Not important. Why am I chasing her around?

The question itself had answers. Because two heads were better than one. Because she was someone human, someone different from the beasts. Because she offered a better chance of survival. She could watch his back. Which she could be doing now… If she had run to pull the beast away…

That feeling came back. That tightness.

Something stung his thoughts, an anomaly of sorts. They didn't fit, the reasons incomplete.

He'd felt incredibly comfortable talking about Libre to her, after he actually got talking. And he couldn't deny that there was this rush when he realised that she and Libre had known each other to some capacity. While it felt wrong to think of her in relation to her knowledge of Libre's history, it made sense. She was a connection between them. They both had experience with her, that unified them in a way.

The realisation didn't hit him like it had before, but more it drifted into his mind and silenced his thoughts.

Mono's fingers drifted across the wet wood he was sat on, and paused. It was a faint memory, and almost insignificant otherwise.

His fingers expected to meet wood, but they felt sticky and sunk into something.

He looked down at his fingers, and he rolled whatever he had touched between them. It was warm and thick, and glistened under the slight moonlight. It was the thick brown stain of muck and mud, splashed across the roots he was sat so comfortably on.

Why is there mud? He shifted his weight forward, letting himself slide off. The root wasn't covered, only the part directly touching the tree. Pretty much right where he was sitting, but also slightly to the side of there as well. He brought his stalwart jacket round to his front. The back was marred brown, but would wash out easily.

The mess looked like two conjoined blobs, one significantly larger than the other. Interestingly, it didn't actually smell of anything, just the neutral smell of the ground. He ruled out poo quickly. The mess was just the chewed-up dirt of the brown ground, albeit drowned by an endless tide of rain.

He had a general idea of where the mud came from. The gunshot would have scared off the animals, and an animal wouldn't have tried to jump over the root when simply going around it was safer and easier.

It was difficult to see in the light, but the mess made by the creatures was… Asym… Asymitrics? Uneven. Sure, it could have been two different splotches of mud that had fused beneath the rain, but it was far more obvious that it had been a larger and a smaller foot print. Six's hand or feet as she scrambled over, with the heavy mark of the boot following her.

The fact it sloped off on one side helped as well. She must have slid off, dragging the mud forward with her movements.

He turned around and looked further into the forest.

He couldn't see through the foliage and thickets. The fog, the rain, the darkness. It made any kind of visual confirmation difficult. Compared with the wide-open spaces between the trees from earlier, this was cluttered, a constant blend of greens and browns. He could have sworn that there was light off in the distance, although it was more logical to assume it was simply a break in the cover to let moonlight down.

The bushes were unusual.

With his back to the muddy root, he could think of where Six had run. The bushes would have been good. Small, but just tall enough for a kid to go through, it'd break line of sight, and make it easier to potentially hide for long enough that the beast might miss you and continue on. The dark made it difficult, sure, but this was to her benefit as well.

That lamp was used for a reason.

With a second of thought, he walked directly along the supposed direction of the muddy prints. There were bushes a short distance away, and the simplest option was that Six had run through them. As he moved closer, he found what he was after.

The bush had appeared normal, with little of its outer-most leaves sheared off or disturbed. To a distant observer, like he was, it was difficult to see the evidence you needed.

But as close as he was now, it was blindingly obvious.

Beneath the branches, within the bush itself, there was a patch of crushed and battered branches that had been snapped off of the bush itself. Stomped flat, they had been flattened into the dirt by a heavy weight simply striding through them. He'd risk anything to say that the weighty steps of the beast were responsible for that. And in a rush as well, if the fact the bush had whipped back to cover them was anything to go by.

He was still chasing her? Still could see her…

Mono looked up. I can follow this, Ignore the tracks, follow my gut and go with the trail of damage.

Whether she wanted it or not, he'd help her.

He'd help that Quiet and Lonely Girl.

Six's breath came back with a sharp, shrill breath.

Her left arm was damp and warm, and the feeling of razor sharp knifes poking her flesh had her eyes snap open. The bone groaned and aches, the muscle locked from the sheer agonising pain. It washed over the limb, stitching the meat of her arm with lines of strain and injury.

She pulled the limb close.

Her back was resting on something solid and hard, and her spine ached against its touch. Her entire body felt damp, and she looked around for a brief moment.

Walls of exposed stone rose up around her, like the jagged uneven teeth of a monstrous maw. It wasn't covered in mud, so anything soft enough for bugs to hide in, just the unforgiving rock of the ground. It was grey and lifeless, and had this bizarre nature that caught her eye. The rock was simultaneously smooth and jagged. Each face was smooth, like a polished statue or a building, but the edges were anything but. It was… nonsensical, the sheer edges, almost like they were cut away, contrasted by the soft curves of the walls themselves. The walls even had alcoves, and almost cave-like, with trailing groves that carried on well into the dark.

It was by no means a maze, as the central gorge itself led onwards, towards the field that she had seen before falling in.

Despite the rock, the ground was littered with dozens of abandoned televisions.

Her stomach tightened, and she swallowed a gulp of air. Naturally, none were plugged in and were not a threat, but the sheer number made it incredibly creepy. There were few places that would contain this… discord of electronics. The televisions were common in the city, and many cities for that matter, but they'd somehow… Gather? Manifest? She didn't know how they got here, but the meaning behind the TV had her stomach churning.

She pushed herself out of the puddle she had ben unconscious in, and finally checked her arm. The skin was broken, and blood slowly leaked from the wound. An inch long? Maybe more. But the wound didn't seem deep, and the blood was slow and manageable. It'd scab shortly, and the rain water would at least keep it clean, even though she didn't really have an idea of what she cut it on.

She considered herself lucky, she should have injured more than just her arm. The gorge was deep, a sheer drop that should have broken limbs and pulped organs. But somehow, she had gotten out with little more than a relatively minor cut that was small even to her body. Then again, she could attribute that-

Hunter!

She spun on her heels, quickly turning to face behind her.

Face down, and smelling of rotten and decaying flesh, the green clad predator of the forest lay in a pool of water - tinged red by vitae. It had taken the fall entirely, its heavy weight crushing itself under the force of the impact. She had been knocked out, a fact that would have surprised her given the lack of headache, but this beast had killed itself in its greed and bloodlust.

She wasted no time, and spat at the creature.

Its weapon lay next to it, the stock had snapped under the weight of the beast, leaving it with the jagged remains to brace each shot. Now the weapon would eat into the shoulder of whoever used it. The barrel wasn't warped or damaged, and the only part that seemed damaged was the stock. It was still usable, although she wouldn't be able to use it.

Six pushed herself up and nursed her wounded arm, squeezing the wound closed and keeping a firm grip on it. The injury might get in the way, but it wouldn't be too much, she could work through the pain. You grew used to that.

Eyes drifted high, at the implacable cliff face. Oh… The stone was too high to imagine climbing up. Between the smooth nature of the rock face, something that would have confused her if it wasn't thanks to the Beacon, and the simple fact it too steep to scramble up, escape was limited. The only escape she could think of was further along the gorge, and turning back when she got to the field.

Fingers grazed across the surface of a Tv as she passed it, and a rush of fear touched her, but it faded quickly and she stood there. She couldn't see much; in truth the gorge was darker than she expected. She could make out the shapes of objects further up the valley, the shifting silhouettes just discernible against the black.

The darkness would aid her, but there existed the very real threat of predators. That rotting slab of flesh and stitching wasn't the only predator, just one of the most successful. Instead, there existed his prey, creatures that posed no threat to him. His armament and sheer size made him invincible to nature, but she was no hunter.

Beasts that hid from him would have no such fear for her, and she was acutely aware of that fact.

She hung close to the TV's as she moved, but she didn't track slowly through this mess. Six was quick, moving past the shapes of Tv's and other rubbish.

The shadows eventually shifted, and revealed bizarre detritus and the waste of man. Bags stuck out, containing what might have once been food or supplies but now nothing more than rotten piles of sludge, their plastic owing to their extreme longevity. Then there was the furniture, some visibly destroyed and some seemingly unscathed. Chairs, shattered tables, and even a settee, they made up for a full house worth of living room furniture.

Something made her pause.

Discarded and mangled, a steel frame was half buried in the ground. It was rusted beyond belief, unlike the other objects that had somehow survived the aging process, but the shape was undeniable. She walked over to it, and she rested her fingers on the curved metal. It bit back, but only enough to dent the skin, and she traced the frame. The rounded front, like a large metal basket, with large legs ending with small little wheels.

A trolley, likely from a supermarket or shop.

How had it gotten here? Had someone really managed to push a trolley from the city all the way out here? That meant the journey had been long for this poor little trolley. And she could sympathise with the age it felt, that endless journey had worn the thing down and it had managed it all the way, before being abandoned here.

You poor thing…

She spun a wheel, and it squealed loudly in protest. Just want to be left alone, huh? With the tip of one finger, the plastic wheel was stopped. I'll leave you be.

As she went to move a dull throbbing touched her, slowly spreading from her feet. She looked about for a second. Ahead of her, there was a chair that was sinking into the dirt, one side of it sunk just slightly more, making it turn upwards towards the way she came. She went over to it, and pulled herself up to check the seat.

The brown soft leather seat was vacant and clear, with not even the slightest sign of marking. It was dry too…

Somehow?

The rain hadn't stopped, but the wind was blowing it to the opposite side of the gulley, keeping her dry. But the seat being dry was… Nonsensical. It was in cover, sure, but how had it avoided the rain from earlier? Her feet could literally feel the small pool that was around it, and yet the seat itself was as dry as a desert.

She shrugged that example of unreality from her mind, and she pulled herself up onto the chair. Her right arm protested somewhat, she was putting less weight on her left, but she pulled herself up without issue.

She crossed her legs, and twisted one foot upwards. The right was clear of the mud that had stained her feet earlier, and her bare skin was visible. Calloused and scarred, her foot had seen better days. But it was how this world was, shoes were a near impossibility to get, especially for their size, so you just grew used to it. And the body was meant for it, since it would toughen the flesh the more you injured yourself.

But through the scars, and likely just due to how tough her feet were, there was a faint red line that raced her skin. It was visible, only barley, thanks to the limited light, and she ran a finger across the arch of her foot, and brought her finger away.

She turned her hand, checking the finger over, before humming contently to herself. No blood.

A quick repeat with the other and she was content.

The stones had been sharp, sharp enough to mark her skin, but they had been unable to cut her. Even running, as she had been.

She let her legs dangle off of the seat and leaned back into it.

She didn't resist gravity at all, and Six found herself staring straight up at the cloudy, covered, miserable sky. Her sore back enjoyed the comfort of the seat.

Was there ever a normal world here? Did anyone truly live, or was it always like this? The question was comforting in some weird way. Mainly in that, how did she even know what normal was? She couldn't answer that, at all. The idea of 'normal' was completely alien, and made no sense no matter how she thought of it, and yet…

She must have had something! She must have had a semblance of normality!

That something, somewhere, at some point, had been normal. She couldn't describe it, but she knew what it wasn't. And that itself was more important than anything else in the world.

She pulled her legs against her chest.

And something bright clipped her eyes.

A blast of baleful yellow light caught her eyes. Pupils widened, she ducked behind one arm of the chair. Moments later the world was consumed by it.

She couldn't see it, but her stomach dropped. Heat rose through her body, teeth gnashed together. NO! YOU WERE DEAD! I SAW THE BLOOD! Her own ran cold. She crushed herself against the cushion. Eyes dared to peer over.

She squinted.

Thunder slowly crackled out, the footfalls uneven and even heavier than before. Each breath was ragged and desperate, and the exhale heralded coughing and the gurgle of fluids in its chest. Blood choked it, and it kept walking. The shotgun was held in one hand. Stable, despite the grievous injury and shattering fall. Each step was laborious, the broken beast dragging itself forward with every ruined step.

That baleful light, piercing as it was, sputtered and died.

The beast snarled and gargled, and slammed a meaty, battered hand against it.

The abuse did nothing.

It did it again, metal rang out in pain, the light flickered and tried. A few attempts at life, and the light came back. The torch was like its owner now, clinging to life irrespective of just how damaged it was.

It didn't make the beast any less dangerous.

The limped forward, until it got towards the stack of Tv's that Six had touched. Its beam of light, its gaze, shone across the surface of the woodwork. Each one was inspected briefly, studied by the pained eye, before he moved on. The contours, the depth, were checked and visible even hidden as she was.

On the fourth, it paused.

Something had caught its attention, and it kneeled into the mud. Shaky limbs bent, and it lowered its head towards the frame of the screen. Two fat fingers came up, and almost dusted the top of it, before bringing the light up to the two appendages.

She could see it, the shine of red against the brown of his gloves.

The slightest amount, and the beast had seen it. Her blood, a small part of her vital fluids, had been left on the top of that lone screen.

A bull's roar came out of the wounded giant, a scream of such rage and anger that her blood froze in her veins and her hair stood on end. It echoed further up the gorge, bounding off of the smooth walls. It brought it's boot up and down, with such force and speed she barely realised.

The wood shattered without any resistance, and the metal frame beneath it collapsed. The Tv dented beneath the enraged slam of its boot, the set protesting with a cry of failing metal and the shrill scream of cracked cathodes.

Helpless, defenceless, pathetic.

The Tv failed and gave in.

The light immediately spun, and Six ducked low. The seat above her lit up like a spotlight, and the beast stomped forward. Something else let out a scream, the material letting out one last cry, before it was shattered.

Wooden, given the cracking and splintering.

Six curled up, squeezing into the crevices of her comforting chair. The beast kept moving, kept attacking.

A shattered box here.

A TV ended there.

Six could only listen as it continued its rampage.

Her heart wanted to rip its way out of her chest and run away, her arm and legs tingled with adrenaline, her ears rang. Her nerves begged for an answer, begged for a solution.

I haven't got anything? What do I do?

Stay low? She hadn't any other option. The monster was going about shattering and tossing. It was throwing things about, anywhere she could have hidden. It wasn't random, and it simply destroyed one item and moved on to the next closest one. Simultaneously destroying her cover, but giving her time to think.

She slipped off of the seat, and crawled under it, trusting in the cover it offered. I've never had to do this before…

Six looked around.

Loose rocks. Scrap metal. Debris from the raging beast.

Darkness masked everything, hiding anything of use form her eyes. The shadows served to be her saviour and a spiteful betrayer it seemed. There was a scrap and detritus visible, but what was within reach was either too small to be useful or too unwieldly to use.

And to add to it, there were tools within reach. They were illuminated only briefly, that cursed light flicking over them as the hunter moved. Her eyes were attracted to the glint of metal, the flash of steel that was visible under direct supervision of the light.

Deep breaths, to calm her trembling fingers.

Should I go for it?

Thinking, she watched it. The air was still, and the stink of the fetid creature had her flinching. Vomit, blood, guts, crap, and the stench of animal's stomach all mixed. It would have made her flinch, but there were worst scents out there. It would turn around every few seconds, checking before destroying something else.

Then she heard it.

A high pitched and aching squeal.

Its rage ceased, and it turned quickly. It raised its shotgun and light, even as its body cracked and muscles groaned. The beam swept over its destruction, past the innocent items it had yet to destroy, and over to the source. It took seconds.

But six's eyes were quicker. She saw the shadow as it pulled away, the quickly shuffling figure masked by the darkness. The wheel on that rusted trolley span slowly, her shadowy ally having seen her plight and then intervened. It hurried off quickly, masked by the light, but she could hear it in the dark. The rusted metal groaned shrilly, and the tortured light tried to sputter alive.

It turned, wounded back to her. Its focus was entirely on the artifact. It stomped towards it; shotgun pointed at it the entire time. Its breathing turned predatory again; hacking up bloody red as it did so.

She took her chance.

Hand and knees, she scrambled forward for the metal she saw. Her knee's complained, the stone was not easy on them. It was a mad scramble, with no semblance of grace. Her fingers clamped around the object the instance she was able to. Ahead of her, beyond the beast, she saw the figure rush over and hide behind the Stack of TV's

She pulled back; the beast turned.

In her hands rest a dull, twisted hunk of metal and plastic. It was green, and silver, and gold. It was cold and light, but solid.

Useless as a weapon.

The beam moved away and the beast went back to looking for the previous distraction. The stack of broken TV's was its choice, it must have seen the shadow dart behind it. Its head disappeared into the dark, bent behind the stack as it was. Seemingly uncaring of what had made the noise behind it. It searched, and shoved itself further behind the stack as something squeaked in frustration.

Six took the moment to run.

The mud squelched, and the sound of her feet against the wet ground made her squirm, but survival was more important than comfort. The trolley, what her unwitting or hidden saviour had used, was silent as she pushed past it. She hoped that squeal was it escaping, gurgling and wriggly as the sound was.

She wished them well in her thoughts, and kept running. Ahead, through the dark, she could see a large shadow. It caught the rain with metal tangs of impacting rain. Light pierced through several points, wide windows that offered plenty of space to crawl inside of. It was a hunched thing, ugly and maimed from exposure and age, rusted and old.

A tired, worn car. Abandoned in the cold and left to rot away.

She didn't make it far enough to pass the car, the beast turned quicker than that. She saw the light flash out the corner of her eye.

She lifted herself up the car door, the rusted paint biting her skin, and she pulled herself into the cavernous vehicle. There was no glass, no debris, just the feel of worn leather. The seats of the car were bizarre, the seats themselves feeling comfortable and oddly fresh. She rolled off the seat, and instead buried herself under them, curling up. It was warm, damp but warm.

She listened, to the sound of displaced mud and annoyed grunts.

Had its prey escaped it? Or did it grow bored of the chase and decided after her squelching retreat?

Either way, the beast was approaching her, each step echoing and heavy. Uneven, but her heart and throat tightened all the more.

Implacable, unstoppable. It kept coming.

Could it die? Truly die?

The car groaned, the beast leaning on the frame and peering in to survey the wreck. The sound of blood in its lungs was so obvious up close. Crimson vitae stained its hood, and the tang of metal stung her nose. There was more, the taste of vomit hit her short after. It wasn't hers, and the smell wasn't there when she had entered the vehicle. The beast must have spewed bile, its stomach being crushed and punctured by its own bones. Her hand came up to her nose, as the air stung her face and nostrils. Acid, and the decaying bits of flesh it had scoffed down, mixed to a putid concoction. How the beast ignored it, she couldn't tell, but it made it difficult to keep silent.

The beam came back, and the brown leather before her was illuminated.

The vehicle's weirdness had to wait, as the lumbering fat abomination shoved a grotesque hand into the cabin. Turgid fingers reached for her, aimlessly yet curious. She slowly shover herself further into her crawlspace, keeping her distance. The probing limb, almost knowingly, crept after her.

The mere sight made her skin crawl, the memory of that offending brutal claw grasping at her.

It felt a century ago, and yet the memory still hit her as if it was fresh and new.

The frame creaked further, the beast putting every bit of effort into crushing its way into the car. Each moan of metal, that desperate cry for release, led to the clambering hand reaching closer and closer. Her back met unyielding metal, the wall separating the boot from her hiding spot.

It inched closer, and her heart ached. Holding her breath, Six pushed herself flat against the back of her spot. The fingers moved up and down, scanning for something. She clutched the plastic in her hand, and looked at it.

It wasn't instinct, not when she threw it into that grasping hand.

His hand vanished. The coiling fingers crushed the offending object and tore it away from her, and the rush of fear faded. The beast made a loud snort, one filled with pleasure. Six didn't care to look out from her position. Within seconds, angered snorts lead to a fit of coughing, and the beast threw the plastic back.

Green, bent and warped, clattered down in front of her and Six eyed it carefully. It was still useful, as much as any distraction could be, even in its now battered state. Had it always been here? This gulley, and the weird relics it hid away. She had never seen it before, and she had tried this a dozen times over. Had she simply missed it? Six was open to admit her own shortcomings there, when it came to her paths, she was uniquely stubborn about it.

But was that detrimental to her in the long run? Was she losing out because she was choosing to stick to her familiar paths?

A point that conflicted with her current state of hiding under a car as a wounded beast stalked about.

The beast itself didn't seem to share in her thoughts about it, making a low growl before skulking away. The yellow beam would swing back around every few seconds, lighting up the car itself with the baleful brightness. Six waited for a few pregnant seconds, waiting for her undying pursuer to make some distance before she peered over the car boot. The back of the beast, with its torn clothes and damaged flesh open for the world to see.

Beyond it, the open fields provided some of the little illumination. The darkness between her and the opening would provide her cover, and she could outsmart the lumbering beast. It would take patience, determination and stubbornness.

Nothing new there.

Chapter done, Noice. Glad to be back and doing this.

Y'know, there's something to be said about characters which make my head spin. One of the distractions as of late is that a bunch of my friends have been wanting to play a Cyberpunk Red game, something I share an interest in. Since I'm the most well read on the subject, I love the setting and the system, I kind of went "Fuck it, I'll GM then." This turned into me and a close friend of mine staying up until fucking half Three in the morning working on their character.

For those not in the know. Cyberpunk is basically If Corporations ruled the world, atrocities and the complete consumerism of Man. Fun, Brutal, deadly. And The rampant consumerism and greed kinda sounds similar don't it!

And my friend and I have decided his character has a scorned corporate enamour. Who will stop at nothing to get her crush. If that means throwing corporate mooks and thugs to capture him, so be it. Why is she scorned?

He didn't notice.

Yeah, that was a long 6 hours chatting about that with him. Characters can be fucking weird, and I now need to wrangle such a silly idea into my world.

Eh, Cyberpunk. It's easy since everyone's crazy there.

Anyway, enough rambling. I'll see you all next time.

Next chapter: 20th October. Fuck me it's been a while...