Chapter 12

"Keep them away from the subject." Bishop ordered. Mercer's roars had attracted the attention of the remaining infected. Leaving Typhon to keep them away. Jester had managed to stench the flow of blood from a gaping hole in his shoulder and bandage the wound. But he was unable to use it and was consequently wielding his rifle with one hand. Medic stood near the kneeling form of Mercer while killing off any infected that got too close.

Mercer had lost most of the biomass he'd stored up. He was now completely hollow and had very little strength left. His natural instinct to slaughter and consume the man in front of him was tempered by the knowledge that he wasn't fast enough to reach him without taking another bullet. He was positive another bullet would kill him. But his hunger was driving him crazy and he was growling like a mad dog.

Medic dispatched two walkers and glanced down at the hunched form of Mercer. He'd been surprised by how easy it was to take him down. But he passed it off as luck. Mercer wasn't used to having to dodge bullets and acted carelessly as a result. It had all played out in their favour.

He wasn't surprised to see that Mercer was staring at him with a predatory gleam in his eye. The feral growls emanating from his throat added to the effect of a hungry animal. The thought amused him slightly. Mercer was said to be both intelligent and dangerous. But he looked like a starved wolf.

Shit. As he'd been studying Mercer anther walker had approached unmolested. He quickly sent a bullet into it's neck. But this corpse was noticeably closer than the other. Mercer smiled an inhumanly large smile when he saw this. Now, if only I could get a little closer. He thought. The infected corpse was tantalizingly close but still too far for his tendrils to reach. "You're slipping." He forced out between snarls.

Medic looked at him again. He could see the difference in behaviour. He's got a plan. The thought served to dispel his earlier amusement. He immediately trained his sights on Mercer's left eye. "Don't bother trying. You won't reach it in time." He said calmly. Nodding towards the infected corpse that lay a few meters away.

Mercer seemed to chuckle slightly but he said nothing. After a few seconds, Medic resumed his vigil. "Recovery team should be here in five mikes." Bishop said. Medic sighed inwardly. He was thoroughly tired of watching Zeus. He popped off another round and dropped the magazine to reload. The magazine had just come loose when Mercer made his move.

He launched himself to one side, tendrils erupting from his outstretched hand and burying themselves in the infected bodies. He used the biomass as it was collected, forming armour plates along his body. More tendrils appeared, reaching towards the other infected, consuming all they touched.

Medic rammed a new clip home and opened fire. But the bullets were unable to penetrate the newly formed armour. "The subject is active!" He shouted, trying to find a chink in Mercer's armour. He heard the sound of triggers being pulled behind him and saw several rounds shatter along Mercer's side.

Mercer ignored the onslaught. The more he consumed the stronger he felt. His tendrils had tripled in length and were now flailing around, searching for bodies. He added another layer to his armour and stood up. The tendrils retreated slowly into his body before disappearing entirely. He turned to face his prey.

Medic cursed his recklessness. He had given Mercer the opening he needed and he knew that he would not be defeated the same way again. He slowly backed away from the virus incarnate.

Mercer watched him back away, chuckling to himself. No quick death awaited them. He would make them suffer. As he debated with himself about who to kill first, his right arm deteriorated into a mass of writhing tendrils before solidifying into a clawed hand. He glanced down at the misbehaving appendage, but it refused to return to it's previous form.

How interesting. He thought before launching himself at Medic, swinging his claws in a wide arc. The blow had been aimed at Medic's stomach, but he threw himself to the right at the last second. As a result, he kept his organs, but his left arm was severed a few inches below the elbow. He bit back a scream and fired a few rounds at Mercer. Most of them hit the armour, but a few managed to hit his clawed arm where the armour was weakest. The arm was immediately detached.

Medic slumped against the wall, trying to stanch the flow of blood from what was left of his arm. Mercer began walking towards him. A hail of bullets impacted his back and head but his attention never waned. Medic raised his rifle to fire but Mercer simply crushed the barrel in his remaining hand. He then shift his grip to encompass Medic's wrist, crushing it as well. The sound of snapping bones was clearly audible.

Medic grit his teeth, but made no sound. A dark chuckle emanated from Mercer. The voice was inhuman and distorted, but the malice in his tone was easily detected. Medic tried to make a plan through the pain. He considered lashing out, but he knew he had no chance of defeating Mercer in close quarters combat. He was reminded of this as the gun slipped from his grasp, his wrist was nearly obliterated.

"I had planned on simply killing you. But now, I think I'll let you suffer." Mercer's voice was slightly clearer and filled with cruelty. His hand moved again, coming to rest on Medic's elbow. With a jerk of his wrist, Medic's elbow snapped nearly in half, the bone protruding from his skin. This time Medic couldn't hold back a groan of pain.

Mercer once again shifted his hand, coming to rest on the humerus. He pushed his hand into the wall, flattening Medic's arm in the process. Medic was panting and sweating profusely. The pain was almost unbearable and he fought to remain conscious. Blood dripped from multiple parts of his arm where veins and arteries had been crushed, the force of Mercer's grip tearing the skin apart. He could hear the steady dripping of his life's blood hitting the floor.

Mercer's hand moved to his shoulder.

He began to slowly apply pressure and Medic could feel his shoulder straining out of the socket. After four agonizing seconds there was a loud pop as Medic's shoulder was dislocated. Medic howled in pain but never looked away from Mercer. Staring into the slightly reflective surface of Mercer's armour. His lifeless eyes filled with hatred.

Mercer continued to apply pressure. He knew the bones would collapse soon. He could practically hear them cracking. A few more pounds of pressure and Medic's shoulder was crushed. He began to shift his hand again. As soon as he could no longer feel Mercer's hand, Medic threw himself to his left, landing hard on his shoulder. Mercer took a few seconds to be surprised before a rocket slammed into his head. As Medic hit the ground he smirked despite his pain. The recovery team had arrived.

The concussive force of the rocket blew off most of the upper-right part of his body. A hail of bullets slammed into the now unprotected flesh. He was aware that several of those bullets were the strange toxic ones he'd felt before. He glared at the prone form of Medic with what remained of his eyes.

He expelled the biomass that had been effected before closing off the wound with armour plates. He walked over to Medic's body, ignoring the bullets and dodging the occasional rocket. He reached Medic within seconds and grabbed him by the back of the neck with his remaining hand. He manipulated the biomass to turn Medic's body to face him.

He was surprised to find him still conscious and trying to get free of Mercer's grasp. A kick from Medic connected with his chest and the force behind it surprised him yet again. He watched the struggling form while his mind raced. He thought of all that had happened since the second outbreak. His goal to revive humanity. The craving for the hunt that had been plaguing him. He thought of the challenge he'd been faced with just to deal with a weak human. What interesting prey he had been.

He realized he wasn't ready to give up the hunt. Not yet.

Without thinking, he sent a tendril into Medic's body. But rather than consuming him, he sent pieces of his own DNA into him. He wasn't sure what he'd hoped to accomplish by doing so. But something deep in his subconscious had compelled him to do it. As the tendril began to recede back into his body, another rocket hit him in the chest. The blast sent him and Medic flying in opposite directions.

He impacted a wall and fell down, landing on his feet. Medic hit the ground and slid until his body impacted the opposite wall and lay there unmoving. Mercer immediately began repairing the damage that had been done. Forming his left arm into a thick shield while the other elongated into it's blade form. He launched himself towards a line of Blackwatch soldiers with a roar.