NOVEL WEB 45: Batter Up
Gods, but this guy was buff. His strength was one of many reasons it was obvious he hadn't been aware of any danger before his death. I mean, there was no way a guy like this would go down in a stand-up fight with any of the critters around here.
The real evidence for his quick death came when I rolled him over and cut the straps off his damaged backpack. Clustered around his upper spine were three ragged, bloody holes. The trio of blows had gone through the backpack, slipped through the gaps between the metal slat armour, until finally they broke bone and punctured vital organs. It wouldn't have taken long until he bled out, but during the brief moments when he was still living, he managed to fumble for his weapon, which was half out of its sheath and clutched in one hand.
The armour itself was gnawed to hell, but not much save for parts of his face had been eaten. His killer had attempted to eat him, but evidently had too much trouble with his garments. It was a grisly and stomach churning sight, but one I'd seen countless times by now.
Again, I found myself asking—Where had he come from? Each metal slat that'd been stitched into his jacket looked like it had been crudely forged, but forged nevertheless. Actually… I could see marks from the hammer, and as far as I could tell, it started as a squiron tooth that was then heated and bashed into shape with a common hammer.
All that is to say that he had to have a base or community of some kind nearby.
Searching his body didn't reveal anything further, except for a little pouch tucked into an inside pocket of his jacket with a single attribute orb inside. Huh. Why hadn't he used it?
Pocketing it without using it, because I didn't want to take something that was potentially intended for someone else, I lifted his pack and stood. It was crusted with frozen blood, and goddess but I really didn't want to look inside.
With a heavy sigh, I tugged at the fouled zipper until it opened. He had everything you'd expect for a traveller in this new and uncertain time. Food, water purifying tablets, fire starting materials, and everything else. What caught my attention was the ragged piece of paper.
Pulling it free, I examined it. The blows that'd killed the owner of the paper had also severely damaged it, but I could still tell it used to be a map of the area. Some blocks had been marked with large X’s, while others had notes warning of dangers. With the blood and torn holes, it was impossible to figure out where anything was, let alone where his base might’ve been. That was too bad. It would’ve been amazing to make contact with another group of survivors.
In the end, I only actually took the attribute orb, the machete, and its makeshift hide scabbard. The rest I left with his body while I stepped back to think. I’d intended to head down to the freeway and assess if it could be used to scout farther afield… but now I wasn't so sure that task was one I should do today. Maybe I should search for more clues about where this dude came from instead.
A distant, dull thud had me dropping my train of thought, and I turned, trying to find where the noise had come from.
The ghost of a shout rode down to me on the wind, and I looked back up the hill. What was going on?
A firebolt speared up into the clouds from atop the hill, and made my decision. I'd shelve the mystery of the dead man until later. Scouting farther afield could also wait. Someone was fighting, and if I could help them, that was more important.
Since I'd already partially cleared the pedestrian steps of snow when I came down, I was able to make quick time back up the hill.
Weirdly enough, the sounds of combat dulled slightly when I crested the hill. Sound was strange like that. With my new perspective on top of the hill, I was able to figure out that whatever was happening was in the direction of the small Edgewood industrial area.
As I raced through the snow-laden streets, I began to feel a sense of deja-vu. I could hear metal-on-metal, and a lot of it. Whoever was fighting up here, the monsters sounded like they were made of car… and considering April's workshop was over there and what used to reside there…
Shield in hand and machete ready to be drawn, I slid haphazardly around the corner that would give me line of sight on the metalworking shop. Eyes and mind sharpened by the magic of the storm, I took in the scene.
Roughly a dozen people were engaged in combat with two large scrap-car beasts on the street in front of the shop. Unlike last time, they resembled a large bull and a smaller, but still stocky ram. The bull looked to be made out of a large twisted pickup truck that was missing all hint of the paint job it should've had. The metal of its body was instead a dull grey. By contrast, the ram was made from some sort of harley style motorcycle, and it was all black with painted flames down its flank.
The ram lowered its handlebar horns and revved its engine in a growl, then charged—shit! The people fighting were all my friends, and Ollie was the target of the ram’s ire.
Adrenaline flooded my veins, and I grasped the very sky in an upraised fist. “Burn!”
Moonlight lanced down from the heavens, hitting the ram mid-charge. The force of my magic drove it into the pavement of the street and assaulted our ears with a cacophony of screeching metal.
My friends and allies, startled by my dramatic entrance, hesitated even as the bull began to paw at the ground. I got a good look at who was here, and anxiety gripped my insides when I saw April amongst them. What was she doing here? She wasn't a fighter!
At least Camillo was there, ready to heal someone, and I knew Chloe—who was staring at me with relief—could also patch people up in a pinch. Still, this was dangerous! Why did they take April out here… and why were they even here in the first place?
That was when I realised that three others besides April were unarmed and standing back. There were multiple noncombatants here watching what was basically a double boss battle!
Gah! These beasts needed to die now.
I didn't even bother to draw my machete. It was a slashing weapon, and therefore useless against the tough metal hides of the monsters.
Instead, I wrenched a road sign out of the sidewalk with one hand and flipped it sign-down. The scorpion spike I'd retrieved from my earlier kill got jammed onto the end of the metal pole. Spear: accomplished.
Spinning it, I rushed forward and activated my AOE debuff and taunt. The bull paused and belched exhaust, then turned its enraged brake light eyes on me. They glowed red with fury and it lowered its head, preparing to charge.
Now, you know when you used to get bored late at night before the storm happened, and you'd go down some crazy rabbit hole on YouTube or Wikipedia? Yeah, well sitting in my head was a little self-proclaimed useless piece of information, and it was ready to prove that label wrong.
Just like the hunters of old, I jammed my road sign spear into the snow, crouched, and lowered it point-first towards the bull. Pistons roared as it voiced animalistic rage at my challenge, and it charged.
At first, it didn't appear to be moving very fast, and I thought my plan might not work. Then it gained speed at an eye watering pace, and I was forced to remember that cars measured their power in the hundreds of horses. Aw shit.
Impending carnage became actively-in-progress carnage when the bull’s breast slammed into the scorpion spike with the full power of a 5 litre V8 engine. The tip shattered, but not before punching a small hole through the metal alloy hide of the bull. The rest of the road sign followed the smashed spear tip through the hole with all the glee of a child leaping into a ball pit.
Something to note about this method of hunting… the spears they used had big hefty cross guards on them to prevent the exact problem I now had. Just because the bull was being impaled didn't mean its momentum suddenly vanished. In a desperate and futile bid to ward off two tons of vehicle monster, I raised my little makeshift shield.
It shattered. My arm, seeing how much fun my shield was having, followed suit.
The pain was awful, but somehow I was able to fight through the pain and jump free of the car crash I'd caused. The worst mistake I made was looking down at my arm. Bone was visible, and the makeshift strap of my broken shield was… it was bad. Blood was everywhere, sticky and slippery at the same time.
“Silver!” Chloe exclaimed, rushing over.
Gritting my teeth, I glanced over to where the goat ram car thing was pulling itself to its feet. Thankfully, Ollie had a metal pipe, and she swung it like a baseball bat with devastating effect. The ram’s metal skull rang like a bell.
Beside me now, Chloe took one look at my arm and pulled a knife. With expert strokes, she severed the entangling shield straps, then carefully pushed my bone back into my arm. Goddess, I almost fainted at the sight.
Camillo appeared as she was fumbling for a potion from her bandolier and with a confident, caring smile said, “Good work Chloe. I got it from here.”
“I'm Camillo. Nice to meet you, Silver. The arm's a bit fucked, huh?” He said, and when I nodded, his face scrunched with pain. “Oh, damn. Yeah that hurts. For real.”
No kidding, dude, now could you— huh? My arm! My arm felt fine! Camillo had his hand over his own arm, right where on the spot where the break was on my arm. His hand glowed with a gentle pink light for a good three seconds, and to my amazement, the wound on my arm began to stitch back together. In moments, it was like my arm had never been broken.
“Wow…” I said, staring at him. “I have a healing spell, but it's not nearly that good.”
“Pays to have a dedicated healer, huh?” He asked, shaking off the pain he'd taken from me.
“It absolutely does,” I said with a shaky breath. My arm still felt really weird, and I was struggling to keep the image of my own exposed bone from solidifying in my mind.
Immie stepped in to distract me when she leapt forward from her position behind Ollie and threw one of her knives. With eerie accuracy, the little blade pierced the fuel line of the surviving motorcycle goat and it let out a hissing squeal of pain.
It wasn't dead by any means, but its time was limited and it seemed to realise that. In a last ditch effort to deal some damage before it died, it—
“Batter up!” Ollie crowed, and her heavy pipe connected with the ram’s head. Metal and plastic crumpled under the force of the blow, and the bike monster fell sideways, dead.
I really needed to make her a proper mace.
