Rage of a Human
Filiks sat in the corner of a ruined shack, his rifle aimed at the door. The blue blood of the gorgfin and the red blood of their advisory decorated the interior of the shack, mixing into an unholy purple concoction. The source of the blood lay right in front of Filiks.
A squad of eight went inside this shack to hide from the rain as they waited for orders.
The monster was dressed in a simple leather coat and carried only an axe and a civilian pistol, so it was clear it wasn’t a soldier. Most likely a civilian who was out collecting firewood when the colony was attacked. Filiks wasn’t even sure were it came from. He only noticed it when Lt. Cil’s head exploded, showering him in brain tissue and skull fragments.
The human was already blue from the severed arm of Huvnu, and Klosix was swiftly brought down by the back end of the axe head piercing their eye. Filiks reached for his rifle, which he left lying in the corner he was now sitting in. Bagif and Noj were quicker on the draw, each shooting several plasma rounds into it. It didn’t even flinch.
Two more gunshots rang out. One struck Bagif in the neck and the other in between her eyes. Her body fell on top of Filiks. He didn’t see what happened to Noj. Once he had his rifle and had moved Bagif’s body off of him, Noj was already on the floor. The attacker slamming it’s axe into his face until all that was blue chunks, and the red blood dripping onto the pile.
Filiks grunted as moved into position. The monster heard the grunt and it’s head instantly shot to him. The blue eyes were bloodshot, and filled with nothing. Nothing but sheer, unforgiving, rage. It was clear that any form of happiness or calmness had been abandoned when the colony was attacked. This wasn’t a person anymore, but a monster. A spirit of vengeance, seeking the blood of those who destroyed it’s life.
Filiks pulled the triggered his rifle, and didn’t let go until the gun stopped firing. Once his vision cleared, he was quickly blinded by fear. The monster was no we’re in sight. The only remnants behind a trail of blood, leading to the door of the shack.
A squad of eight went inside this shack to hide from the rain as they waited for orders. Seven laid dead, and a wounded human stalked the survivor.
As Marianne stood in the rain, blood dripping between her fingers, she felt a sort of zen. Was it the satisfaction of killing those who killed her husband and destroyed her home. Was it that she was certainly going to die within the next minute? Was it that her rage was somehow so strong, that it circled back into a sense of peace? Was it a mixture of all three? She didn’t know, nor did she care.
All she did care was that one still lived, but she felt satisfied in knowing that if she didn’t kill them herself, their life is ruined regardless. Survivor’s guilt was a song that drowned out the world, a song she was all too familiar with.
The mercy of the Reaper creeps ever closer. It was time for Marianne to decide if she will be joining seven or eight souls in hell tonight.
