That following afternoon, Torn led the day troop to kill some more
Metalheads at the Pumping Station. While his troop went to defend the
precious water tankers from damage, he held off a few skulking Metalheads
attacking the pipes.
Torn: Get away from those pipes, you bastards!
He shot them all, watching them die as they ran away from him. He chuckled quietly at the sight of it.
****: I suppose you enjoy that, do you?
Torn: Huh?
Torn whipped around to see who was speaking to him. The speaker was a lean young man about his age. He was clad in the garments of the Huntsmen of Mar, but the markings on his face indicated that he was once a Krimzon Guard. He grinned provokingly at Torn, his brown eyes glinting in the sun.
Torn: (Setting his guns aside) You.
****: Don't you remember me, Torn?
Torn: Erol, isn't it?
Erol: Good, you remembered.
Torn: (Frowning with dislike) What are you doing here?
Erol: That's none of your business. (Looks at Torn's troop, whom had already fended off several Metalheads) And what is this supposed to be?
Torn: We're fending off Metalheads from the water system.
Erol: Is that so? Didn't you hear what Harken had said?
Torn: Yeah, sure I did. So what do you want me to do? Leave them to multiply so they can feed on each other?
Erol: I'm telling you, Torn. What you're doing now isn't doing Haven City any good. You're not going anywhere with this fruitless massacre.
Torn: (Growling) And I suppose the Huntsmen of Mar have better ideas?
Erol: (Laughs) We might. Now, get out of my way, Torn. I've got real business to attend to.
He shoved Torn away with the butt of his gun and strutts away.
Erol: And oh yeah, I'd watch my back around Harken if I were you.
There was something in those words that struck a chord inside Torn. The Erol sounded as if he knew something that he didn't, and its wasn't just a petty secret.
Torn sighed and shrugged. There were better things to worry about, and stupid Huntsman lies aren't one of them.
Torn: Get away from those pipes, you bastards!
He shot them all, watching them die as they ran away from him. He chuckled quietly at the sight of it.
****: I suppose you enjoy that, do you?
Torn: Huh?
Torn whipped around to see who was speaking to him. The speaker was a lean young man about his age. He was clad in the garments of the Huntsmen of Mar, but the markings on his face indicated that he was once a Krimzon Guard. He grinned provokingly at Torn, his brown eyes glinting in the sun.
Torn: (Setting his guns aside) You.
****: Don't you remember me, Torn?
Torn: Erol, isn't it?
Erol: Good, you remembered.
Torn: (Frowning with dislike) What are you doing here?
Erol: That's none of your business. (Looks at Torn's troop, whom had already fended off several Metalheads) And what is this supposed to be?
Torn: We're fending off Metalheads from the water system.
Erol: Is that so? Didn't you hear what Harken had said?
Torn: Yeah, sure I did. So what do you want me to do? Leave them to multiply so they can feed on each other?
Erol: I'm telling you, Torn. What you're doing now isn't doing Haven City any good. You're not going anywhere with this fruitless massacre.
Torn: (Growling) And I suppose the Huntsmen of Mar have better ideas?
Erol: (Laughs) We might. Now, get out of my way, Torn. I've got real business to attend to.
He shoved Torn away with the butt of his gun and strutts away.
Erol: And oh yeah, I'd watch my back around Harken if I were you.
There was something in those words that struck a chord inside Torn. The Erol sounded as if he knew something that he didn't, and its wasn't just a petty secret.
Torn sighed and shrugged. There were better things to worry about, and stupid Huntsman lies aren't one of them.