I have been gone for a while, but I have two more currently ongoing stories, and then there is school. But hopefully, this chapter will pick up the slack, so with no more I can say, here is the second to last chapter of The Burning Of The Prowler, continuing from the fight at the end of the previous chapter...

The Burning Of The Prowler

Chapter 6

Cropsy took one final breath through his nostrils before he plunged the hedge trimmers down, right into the man's throat. He was so close, just a few inches away, when he felt two rapid stings in his left side. He fell off balance, crashing hard into a pile of fallen wood planks. He snorted as he felt a heavy boot come crashing down on his stomach, tearing the air from his lungs.

He opened his hazy eyes to see a rather tall, faceless man standing before him. It was a man-well, if it was a man-unlike any he had seen before. His entire body was armored by heavy mining gear, while his head and face were hidden behind a mining mask with a dirt covered headlight, and only his dark eyes were visible, slightly blurred by the square, foggy goggles. His breath came out as deep and raspy, no doubt due to the pipe-like gas mask.

Cropsy didn't care as to who he was , though. The man had been asking for a fight, and he was going to get a brief one at that. Opening the trimmers again, he tried to thrust them up, so as to stab the man's groin, but the man, despite wearing light body armor, was surprisingly quick. He grabbed the trimmers and tore them out of Cropsy's hands, throwing them out of sight. He proceeded to unlatch a pickaxe from his back, and swung it down onto Cropsy's chest. Every last one of Cropsy's nerves exploded in protest, as the pickaxe shredded his ribs and several of his arteries into oblivion.

The man brought it down again, tearing the muscles and leaving them sticking to the pickaxe, which was now coated in blood, destroyed flesh, and shredded meat. Blood ran in streams from Cropsy's mouth and nostrils, and his head now throbbed as if though his brain was going to explode out of his skull.

He was not the least bit happier as he saw that man in army fatigues throw the man aside, and took the pickaxe for himself. His rage seethed, and then, just as quickly, it came to and end with one strike.

-POV change-

Raising the pickaxe high above his head, The Prowler savored the moment as he brought it down with all of the fury, all of the hate, and all of the absolute raw strength down on the burnt man, the weapon going through the gushing open hole in the chest.

And it all ended with one noise.

CCCCCRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAACCCCCKKKKKK.

The pickaxe struck a bone, and not just any bone;it tore right into the top column of the man's spine, cutting it apart. The burnt man quit his wheezing, and two seconds later, his eyes went slack and the lids shut tight.

The Prowler realized that the man did not deserve to lie here, rotting;his ugliness would disgrace the mine, and it would be like a burial, something he shouldn't get. He picked up the corpse and turned around, walking to the crumbling steel wire ledge at the end of the corridor. Taking in the noise of the rushing muddy water, he dropped the man into the dirty stream, watching the body float all the way to the end, where he could no longer see it.

He heard a steady deep rasp behind him.

Spinning around, he saw the man in the mining gear. He was holding a long knife, and as he braced himself for another long fight, The Prowler realized the man-whoever he was-had never actually done anything to wrong him. He had just gotten himself involved.

Tossing the pickaxe toward him, the man miraculously caught the weapon and latched it back onto his back. The man turned around and left, the heavy thump of his boots steadily growing fainter and fainter.

Going back into the area where he had killed the burnt man, The Prowler went through the hole that had been caused by the burnt man throwing him, before finally exiting the mines. Picking his way through the bushes, he got back into the taxi he had stolen and drove away. It was night, and he needed to hurry if he wanted to get out of Valentine Bluffs. As he sped off, he was sure he caught sight of that mining man in the trees. He slapped himself on the head, writing it off as his mind playing tricks on him.

And there ends chapter 6. Now, let me tell you, this is not the last chapter. There will be one more, an epilogue you could say. Once I'm done writing it, we'll finally get to find out just how Cropsy keeps cheating death...R&R, please. Like the chapter, hate it? Got ideas for the next chapter? Think there should be a sequel? Don't be afraid to tell me!