Now, in the treacherous mines of Valentine Bluffs, the Butcher of Blackfoot(Crospy) and the Avalon Bay Ripper(The Prowler) shall fight their final battle. If one of them even slightly falters, there won't be a second chance. But there is a third figure. An ominous one-an individual who wants both of them out of his mines-dead or alive. And so begins, chapter 5 of The Burning Of The Prowler...
The Burning Of The Prowler
Chapter 5
"Come on, Trev, why the hell won't you help me?!," Gordon Fisherman vehemently asked his friend.
"You know what happened 5 years ago, Gordon! All those nine people-all butchered when they held the Valentine's Day party and went into the mines! And 20 years prior to even that, Harry Warden killed two people and cut out their hearts! You positive you want a repeat of that?," Trev snarlingly asked Gordon.
"But we're not even gonna be going into the mines! And plus, Valentine's Day is only 3 days from now!," Gordon whined in protested. He pointed to the old, tattered calendar barely clinging to the chestnut wall.
"That doesn't matter! We can't hold another Valentine's dance or party! Harry Warden will-!"
"Harry Warden is fucking dead!," Gordon roared before Trev could finish. "I'm sure that psycho who killed those people 5 years ago has also been so demented, he wandered his ass out of Valentine Bluffs a long time ago-," Gordon was saying, but both he and Trev froze.
"You heard that?," Gordon whispered, and Trev only slightly nodded as his face went pale.
"It sounded like somebody was coming up the stairs-," Trev was meekly rasping, but he never finished. A hulking, burly figure, holding in his hands a pickaxe, kicked the door straight off its hinges, and he stomped in. He had a headlight atop his rusted helmet, and his eyes were hidden by large, square shaped mining goggles. He breathed heavily and menacingly, mostly due to the gas mask he was wearing.
"Hey man, I know you wanna give us a good local scare on Valentine's Day, but you're gonna have to wait until Halloween to be really scary as Harry Warden!," Gordon laughed, pointing at the man.
Yet there was nothing amusing about this. The man glared at Gordon, before he stomped forward, raising his pickaxe, and swung it downward, cleaving through much of Gordon's face, head, and throat. Blood splashed onto the mans outfit, and covered much of his left goggle.
"Shit! Holy shi-!," Trev yelled, but the man took a swing at him. It was through sheer luck and reaction time that Trev ducked and the man missed. Snorting, the man took advantage of the short amount of time Trev was still ducking, with his head bent and much of his back exposed.
The pickaxe plunged, and tore into the upper right side of Trev's back, nastily grinding through and coming out through his right shoulder.
Screaming, he pulled himself off the pickaxe, tearing open his shoulder in the process, and attempted to crawl away. Trev's mouth filled with blood as he weakly grasped the floor and made an effort to crawl himself to safety.
It was useless. The man realized what was going on, and he stepped on Trev's back, halting him and causing him to scream again. Lifting his pickaxe, the man heaved for a second or two before striking it down and into Trev's head. It came out through his face, and blood sprayed all over the floor.
Breathing heavily once more, the man tore the pickaxe free from Trev's corpse, and he wiped the blood off on his left glove. He turned around and examined Gordon's body, ready to bend down and find a way to hide it, when a prick came up his neck.
He knew what it meant.
Of course, he wasn't sure, but The Miner knew that prick almost never lied.
There was somebody in the mines.
And he wouldn't take that bullshit. Not one bit.
Rising, The Miner took one final glance at the two bodies, and stormed out of the room.
The people could find the bodies, for all he cared. He just wanted to see what the hell was going down in his mines.
-POV change-
The Prowler felt his breath go from his lungs when he was thrown through the wooden planks boarding up the entrance to the mines. He felt one of the splinters rip into the back of his neck and arms, and he knew blood had already been splattered on the walls of the mines.
He crashed into the adjacent wood barricade which closed off the west wing of the mine. He felt a bruise forming on the back of his head, and slowly moving his hand up, he touched the back of his neck. He felt blood beginning to ooze from the cut.
The Prowler saw the burnt man coming straight toward him, ready to skewer him on his hedge trimmers. He tried to pick himself up, but even with so much of his will, he couldn't stop the crushed particles of wood and igneous rock from making him slip. Stretching his hands out, he just barley grasped the pipe sticking from the wall, which saved him from his head falling on the sharper and larger rubble.
That was when the gut churning, burning pain shot through his right side. Looking up, he saw the burned man pressing his trimmers deeper and deeper into his side, until The Prowler just knew they would soon come out from his left side. Lifting his right arm with all his strength, he grabbed the man by his trimmers and slightly pulled him forwards, before he began lifting him in the air. Not hesitating, he threw the man over him, and he heard a nasty gushing sound as the rubble cut through the man.
Tearing the trimmers from himself, The Prowler groaned as he felt the tissue inside shifting, some of it sticking to the trimmers with the sappy red blood and mangled, shredded flesh. He could see the man was already getting back up(little bitch wouldn't stop) and so he did the logical thing:he took the trimmers, and opened them wider. He plunged them into his legs, one trimmer blade going into each leg, pinning the man to the ground. The man didn't scream like The prowler wanted him to, however; his breathing simply got much louder. It annoyed The Prowler, who proceeded to kick the man in the mouth. He still didn't utter a simple squeal, and it drove The prowler to the point he realized there would be no pleasure in torturing the man. He was resilient, for sure, and what he needed was a quick pitchfork through the brain.
Unlatching the farm tool, he turned at a good angle, so it wouldn't miss the mans forehead, and plunged it forward. The man, on the other hand, simply flipped back, letting the pitchfork miss, before he ripped the trimmers from his legs, the blades making a disgusting squelching noise as they were ripped free from the legs.
-POV change-
If he was able to sneer at the masked man, Crospy would certainly do so. He couldn't cause of how messed up his face was, but nonetheless, he took the opportunity to make the man realize how much of a dumbass he was for thinking he didn't know how to take a pair of hedge trimmers out from his legs. The man just stared stupidly at him, his pitchfork lowered, and Cropsy took the opportunity to thrust the trimmers forward, and plunged them into the mans torso. Dropping the pitchfork, the man moved to clutch at the trimmers, yet Cropsy was muck quicker to realize what was going on and grabbed the handles of the shears. He closed the hedge trimmers in the mans torso, and for the first time, Cropsy heard the man scream. It sounded a lot like the trademark Wilhem Scream, and it actually seemed funny to Cropsy.
He tore the shears out, and the blood burst out like steam from a geyser, and the man screamed once more, this time less loudly. He fell to his knees as he gasped wretchedly, clutching hard at the huge, red, bloody gash upon his torso. He rasped, and Cropsy coughed, in his way of a smirk.
He kicked the man in the torso, which was only shielded by one hand, and the man collapsed. His hand flew from the wound, the blood continuing its flow, as the mans helmet fell from his head. He breathed heavily, as he raised the blood soaked trimmers, just a foot or two over the mans throat, as Cropsy braced his arms for the strength needed to plunge the shears with the decided amount of force.
-POV change-
The Miner heard the shrill, grating scream. He turned and stomped through the wreckage and debris, wondering who or what was screaming, and just who the hell was in his mines.
He picked up the nailgun, preparing for whatever was lurking in his territory. He pushed through the rubble from the explosion that led to Warden's insanity and the death of four other miners. He heard something under his boot, and saw an old, crumpled newspaper headline. It read: "Battle of Manhattan lost? Jason Takes Manhattan becomes lowest grossing film so far in the Friday the 13th franchise". He scraped it aside and continued on, toward the intruders in the upper shaft.
Sorry for the long wait, but I was broiled in other stories of mine. Now, for some mentions:
Swimming320:You wanted to know how the story would go in Valentine Bluffs, so I answered by introducing The Miner. The original, not the 3D remake one.
Hardrocker21:Now, just HY is it that Cropsy is seemingly invulnerable? Last chapter will reveal that.
R&R, and once you're done reading this chapter, here are some other stores of mine I think you fellow readers/fans should read and will enjoy:
Inheritance of the Slashers
Countdown To Extinction, second story in the Rise of Extinction series. Be sure to read the first story, The Extinct Ally, though, so you can understand what's going on.