Sorry for late chap. e.e
Armour: Victide Armour (Ranger)
Weapon: [UNUSABLE]Mandible Bow (Jester Arrows); Arkhalis
Acc(11/11): Band of Regeneration, Amidas Spark, Sailfish Boots, Luxor's Gift, Ocean Crest, Counter Scarf, Crown Jewel, Tsunami in a Bottle, Frog Leg, Aero Stone, Shield of the Ocean
Health: (200/400)
*tap, tap… tap, tap*
Distinctive footsteps sounded on the cobblestone paths, cautious footsteps - but not the gait of a fearful prey animal. It was the slow, deliberate stalk of a predator. Those taloned boots - reminiscent of a tiger's claws - clicked menacingly as they grasped the ground. It was those shoes that gave The Spy such unnatural agility. Paired with her supernatural strength and monstrous resilience, the grip of those boots, and the wicked claws they possessed, allowed her to traverse not just on flat ground, but nearly every other surface as well! The Arms Dealer had seen Agents run up the sides of buildings as if they were running across a field. Supernatural freaks! Even the best gunmen couldn't reliably hit an Agent on the move, and right now, The Arms Dealer was in no place to take potshots. Not yet, at least.
*Tap…(shff)...*
A pause in the footsteps. The Spy's had halted, and although he couldn't see her, he knew she must be searching for them. It had been only a few short hours since The Arms Dealer had roused everyone and moved them into Amidas's well fortified castle. There were several reasons for this. Firstly, The Demolitionist had planted bombs, snares and tripwires all around and throughout The Clinic's walls in an (admittingly vain) hope The Spy would accidentally blow herself to smithereens. This would be the best-case scenario. If she grew careless, dropped the arm, and killed herself - all would be well. The four of them could escape The Compound without incident… unless The Monster Knight decides to show up… I swear that it must have been in the woods, but it's yet to arrive…
But The Arms Dealer had encountered too many CC Agents to put faith in such a plan. These agents weren't only dangerous fighters, they were also extremely difficult to kill. Cockroaches, the lot of them. If The Demolitionist had packed a whole bunch of 'Big Betties' into the walls, then the traps would be effective - and likely level the entire compound. (For The Monster Knight to have survived such an attack... truly it must be an even worse aberration than the Agents. Perhaps it really was Draedon's experiment after all). But unfortunately, The Demolitionist had neither the time nor resources to build and plant anything more than small charges, which were unlikely to do any serious damage. The Spy might escape with nothing more than a singe, and then, they'd have no further defense.
She's no rookie either... even if everything goes right, there's still no guarantee everyone is gonna make it out alive. I'm gonna try my damn best though...
*Tap...tap*
The footsteps began once more, and this time The Arms Dealer could clearly discern she was nearly atop of their hiding place… but where is she? Her footsteps were ringing hollowly - but her figure was nowhere to be found. He drew a shallow breath - doing his best to ignore the increasingly pungent Crimson stench - and pushed himself further against the cold stone slabs. With the tip of his firearm, he motioned to his companions to do the same; The Nurse and The Demolitionist hunkered down even further into the shadows - doing their best to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible.
Where… where are you...
Ideally, The Spy would blow herself up on the tripwires, perhaps trigger every one of them and kill herself - but The Arms Dealer couldn't rely solely on luck. If she was caught on the many traps outside, then he'd see the explosion and mow her (hopefully injured person) down with shotgun fire. if she didn't trip the wires, he was going to shoot her as she entered the rigged building. A single blast from his shotgun should be enough to put her down, especially since her earlier injuries wouldn't have healed fully... that is, if he hit her. With the speed she moved at, he only had a single shot. If he missed, or she managed to escape, or the bullets weren't enough to incapacitate her, or she tripped a bomb and fled with only minor injuries, or she never came into his range of fire, or she decided not to search the clinic and found them first…
Stay calm… she's moving.
*tap tap tap tap- (thunk)... tap tap tap*
He clutched his gun and gritted his teeth, feeling his heartbeat accelerate and his pulse pound in his temples. The Compound was utterly silent aside from those ominous footsteps. Although it was only late afternoon, the thick clouds blotted a deep shadow over the land. The lights surrounding The Compound's high wall seemed to detect the darkness and flipped on, yet those glaring fluorescent flood lights did nothing for visibility. The blindingly white beams filtered through the thick, stinking mists until the entire place looked to be clouded in a layer of dirty white smoke. Whiteout conditions.
Through the clear glass windows, The Arms Dealer could see the foggy outlines of the poplars watching in a ring all about them. They were so tall they seemed to close up over the compound - over their entire prison - forming a cage in which they were to do battle with Yharim's Agent. The Dealer could feel the sickly air sticking to his cheeks, and the miserable stench clinging, coppery to his throat. He exhaled and dropped his head out of sight just as a shadow flitted past his window.
*tap tap tap tap- (halt)*
Adrenaline punched him in the brain. His heart jumped into his throat. He felt his eyes bug out of his head - just slightly. A pool of cold dread began to form in his stomach as he heard the footsteps suddenly stop. Had she noticed him moving?! Were they going to die?!
Shit!
Suddenly panicked, he covered his mouth with his palm and held his breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see The Demolitionist and The Nurse doing the same as they pressed themselves further into the pillars. The fear was palpable in the room. The air seemed to vibrate with tension. The silence was deafeningly loud in their ears. Did The Spy see them? Was she coming to slaughter them all?!
*...*
*...*
*... (shff) … tap tap tap.*
The footsteps resumed, receding. He let out the breath he was holding. It was only then that The Arms Dealer realized what had happened. The Spy had been walking on top of the building. She had decided to take control of the highest point in the compound to observe for any movement - and despite the horrid visibility, would not have missed The Clinic which still showed signs of life. The Nurse had intentionally left the lights on and the fire roaring, also drawing the curtains so she wouldn't be able to peek inside and see her targets. Would The Spy go and investigate?
*tap tap tap*
The footsteps had become rapid. The Arms Dealer carefully lifted his eyes over the edge of the windowsill to find The Spy's faint outline receding from him and quickly approaching the building. Was… was she falling for it? It seemed so. The dark shape, upon whose back glinted a dash of gold, was making a beeline for The Clinic's front door. What a stroke of luck! There was a soft scuffing noise as The Demolitionist, who possessed more dexterity than his injured frame merited, carefully crouched down beside him to watch the shifting shadows. Both were silent. Both were antsy.
Okay… okay…
The window's hinge had been liberally oiled for this very moment. As carefully as he could, The Arms Dealer reached out, undid the latch, and pushed open the window - praying it made no noise. It didn't. He slipped the barrel of his firearm through, took aim at the foggy black smudge, and steadied his gun on the stone windowsill. His cheek pressed against the well polished stock, he let out a slow breath and focused.
Phew.
The Clinic was only about thirty metres from The Sea King's castle, but despite the short distance - The Spy was still a blur, a dark fuzzy stain in the mist. With such an unclear shot (even with a shotgun), he wouldn't dare fire and reveal their location. He was waiting… waiting to see the mist light up with explosions, or for her to step into the circle of light in front of the door when she'd inevitably stop to enter. His rifle was already aimed, his vision keenly focused… at that moment he'd have a clear shot. That's my chance… I just need to wait for it.
*tap tap tap*
Time seemed to slow. The footsteps echoed in his ears. The Arms Dealer's vision had tunneled as he strained to track the dark blur. Almost immediately, it faded into obscurity, and he exhaled a frustrated breath. His finger resting on the trigger, he waiting for some sort of signal. Every muscle in his body was shot through with electricity - ready to leap at a moment's notice.
*tap… tap... tap...*
He held his breath.
*Tap… tap… (click)...*
A faint noise rang out, the sound of a pebble ricocheting hollowly off the wooden door, then the cobblestones. What's she doing? At the sound, he nearly squeezed the trigger, but thankfully caught himself. He blinked a bead of cold sweat out of his eye and continued to wait.
*Tap… tap…*
The footsteps had become slow and cautious. The Arms Dealer could see the blurry figure coming into sharper view as she slowly approached the door from one side. Evidently, she had made her way around the building - perhaps canvassing out the area - and was now attempting to breach. The Arms Dealer could see she was holding a military issue restraining net in her hands. Specifically engineered by Draedon's R&D team, these were both incredibly strong and light - light enough to be used to detect tripwires. Wait, was she tossing pebbles to find pressure plates? Did somebody warn her this place might be booby trapped?
Who could have told her to look out for traps?! It must have been The Guide. Tch…
He gritted his teeth and huffed. How much information had The Guide given on them before he was killed? Perhaps he was still alive? The Arms Dealer didn't really buy the story of him being Yharim's Lackey, but clearly, it no longer mattered what he believed. The Guide had been an enemy the moment their group attacked his Monster Knight. If only they had realized this sooner, they might have saved themselves a tremendous amount of heartache.
That bastard, if he's not already dead...
The Demolitionist seemed to have come to the same conclusion, and his face twisted into a hateful grimace. Because of The Guide, the explosives he had so painstakingly wired together were now no longer a threat. However, not all was lost. After all, they were The ones sitting behind the barrel of a gun, and she was creeping along with her net - directly into his line of fire.
Alright… phew…
Time was slow. The lights were bright. The Spy's outline was becoming increasingly sharp, her dark form contrasted against The Clinic's gray brick edifice. He inhaled. He Exhaled. He focused keenly on the glinting insignia on her back.
She reached out a hand and grasped the doorhandle, her dark fingers ghostlike in the swirling, stinking mists. He could hear the clack of her talons against the cobblestones. They seemed to drum to his heartbeat.
*tap...tap.*
He inhaled
(pheww)
He exhaled.
He squeezed the trigger.
He felt it before he heard it.
Balls of steel burrowing deep into his guts. He could feel it had wrecked havoc in his abdominals - and the sensation was really quite unpleasant. He turned his thoughts from it and grumbled something nonsensical beneath his breath. He had come to learn some visceral details about his own body during this miserable journey home. In the past, whenever he'd been injured, either The Guide immediately patched him up or he was whisked away to see The Nurse. There was never a time that he was left alone to fester or - heaven forbid - to tend his own injuries. He never had to worry about his health because The Guide and The Nurse knew far better than he, and they handled everything. Of course, he had taken it for granted... he had taken everything for granted.
Because now, suddenly, he was responsible for actively maintaining his own body. Perhaps this was a trivial task for somebody older than he, somebody who had 'lived' longer and was more familiar with their flesh. But the very concept was causing him a great deal of angst. Not only was he missing an arm and coated head to toe in a squirming suit of stinking - living - gore (he had some foggy idea that perhaps it wasn't the best for his health), but he now had two new holes punched into him? What else could go wrong.
... maybe I'll just look for The Guide.
The Guide? yes, likely The Guide could solve all his problems, if he was willing. But who would bother to deal with him anymore? He'd been crippled, and quite permanently. He had lost his worth as 'The Slayer' and became nothing but a liability... but he was still coming home. He'd walk through those gates, and would be forced to present himself to The Guide, and... and then what?
He blinked as his stomach turned in anxiety. Did he look as pathetic as he felt? Would it be possible for him to simply wrap himself up in his cloak, and pretend he was alright? Maybe The Guide wouldn't dismiss him if he didn't know... Nonsense, The Guide wouldn't overlook something so glaring as a missing limb. Still... where else have I to go?
He sighed and tugged at the squirming flesh which had adhered tightly to his skin. It was disgusting and he hated it, but he had been desperate. The Crimson's blood was yellow and caustic, stinging him where it leaked free. He could hear it sizzle as he yanked off a part of his breastplate to reveal the squirming mass beneath. An eye had formed in the rippling flesh, it blinked and stared at him in panic as he reached down and tore it free to reveal the ravaged, pinkish skin beneath. It was beginning to be difficult to tell where the The Crimson ended and he began. How Absolutely filthy.
He wouldn't dare stand in front of The Guide like this. There was a time The Guide had called him a monster. Now, he really looked the part. He'd best treat his own wounds, lest he be abandoned all the more quickly.
With a grunt, he sat in the brittle, grayish grass. It crunched beneath him, sticking to his cloak with tiny vicious hooks as he stripped off his armour. How long had he been attached to this monstrosity? Horrible! He gritted his teeth and - as if driven to a frenzy - drew his sword. He had little regard for himself as he began ripping, chopping, cutting at the parasitic flesh. He left deep gouges all over, not knowing who was bleeding. The thing had infiltrated his nerves. It had formed blood vessels into him. It was almost a part of him, drawing from his vitality to grow eyes and hairs, teeth and organs. He yanked a fully haired scalp from his shoulder stump. He sliced a wall of salivating molars from his left leg.
... tch!
He hacked at it mercilessly, obsessively, until he was standing there, naked, doused in blood and surrounded by a ring of roiling, dying, flesh. Was... was everything off? Should he, perhaps slice a little deeper in? He dropped his chin to stare down at himself. Blood was running freely from several arteries, pumping with the beat of his heart, but slowly ebbing as his body closed the wounds. It was drying into a dark red crust, which tugged an crackled when he moved. The sensation was - perhaps - even worse than the parasite, and he raised his blade once more.
...?
His hand was shaking.
No, His whole body was trembling. His extremities had begun to go cold. Ah, he must have lost too much blood in this... trimming exercise. If he lost any more, he'd might fall asleep again. Should he wait another night? Delay meeting The Guide until he looked more... human? Would it even help? He sighed and shook his head, flopping back down to sit on his winter cloak to ponder. He wasn't particularly good at these mental exercises to begin with, and losing a few gallons of blood likely didn't help.
I should just go hom-
*shiff... shff*
He groaned and rubbed his face with his singular hand as something began to crawl about behind him, tearing the grass and snapping twigs. He didn't need to turn to know what it was. His Crimson 'dressings' had found another home in The Travelling Merchant's bisected corpse, animating it to - likely - attack him. He didn't want to deal with it now. It wouldn't be able to walk for a while anyways, and he had no interest in preserving a dead man's corpse. Besides, he had no further use for The Travelling Merchant. He had already collected The Guide's report and the wares the unfortunate man had for sale. The Crimson could have the rest of him.
... time to go.
Without even turning to look behind, The Terrarian stood to his feet and tugged his cloak over his shoulders. He set his face towards The Compound, noting his vision was beginning to blur, and began to walk.
When he heard the gunshots and explosions, he began to run.
Nurse: Holy shit, you look awful. Here, Drink this.
Slayer: ...? *recieves Coffee*
N: My Depresso Expresso
S: *chugs it*
Notes: yeah hopefully T puts something on before he gets home, because he's literally just running through the woods naked with a cloak on his shoulders rn lmao. Rip Spy. 0_0 I actually re-wrote part 2 of this chapter which is why it took an extra day.
kk cheers.