Torack
The Golden Apple
- Joined
- Sep 27, 2018
- Location
- Under a golden apple tree
Heavy boots stepped onto gravel, shifting them as the figure walked towards an armoured Humvee. Michael, the figure, was a large individual with shoulder-length dirty blond hair, green eyes, and wore a set of urban camouflaged gear, an assault rifle strapped over his back and a sidearm at his waist. It had been a while since he’d come out of the massive complex into the urban city; once a sprawling area filled with life and debauchery, business and pleasure.
Now it was mostly in ruins. One of the first cities hit. And the only one that was hit hard. Few places within still thrived despite the chaos that occured, people slowly coming back to try and reclaim what they had lost. In the distance, Michael could see columns of smoke rising in the air, and he could hear the distant echoes of assault rifles firing, inhuman screams that would send chills down his spine.
Getting into the Humvee, Michael turned on the ignition and drove out of the lot and onto the rubble strewn streets. He’d been given orders to check on a nearby facility just on the edges of town that had been repurposed as a weapons storage warehouse. Reports from the area hadn’t come back for two days, so he was to go there and see if anything was wrong.
Experience told him that those poor men were either dead or they had no way of communicating. Or they’d rather not make any noise in order to keep their lives.
He turned a bend along one street, avoiding the highway ahead of him and after several more minutes came across a roadblock in the form of a collapsed high-rise building. Completely toppled. Everything beyond the building was a complete and utter mess. As if that part of the city had come right out of a post-apocalyptic themed video game. Buildings were half-standing, windows shattered, grass and greenery growing out of the concrete and up the sides of the buildings. Taking back that little part of the world.
Turning the ignition off, Michael got out of the car and went through a narrow tunnel of the collapsed building to get to the other side, jumping over pitless holes. He could see the decaying, half-skeletonized forms of the poor souls that had taken the brunt of the attack strewn about . Bodies ripped in half, faces gone, headless bodies impaled on steel poles. It was a gruesome mess.
He made a small prayer for them in his head as he made it to the other side and began walking, pulling the assault rifle around his back and into his arms, and looked around.
A perfect place to stage an ambush.
A whole weapons cache had gone silent and they sent out a single guy. Admittedly he was more than the average human, every Hunter was, but against a horde of these things he didn’t know how well he’d fare. A couple was a challenge, several was potentially deadly, but a whole street of demons was suicide. They’d entrusted him with this mission however, and he was going to see it done.
“This is Tinkerbell,” he said into his radio, “I’m across the bridge, over.”
“Roger that, Tinkerbell,” the voice over the radio said, “proceed as planned, over.”
“Any chance of support over here? I’m facing a whole street of potential dickbags, over.”
“None. Over and out.”
Cursing, Michael started walking forward, making sure he didn’t step on any loose rocks or make any undue noise while he stuck to the shadows and kept away from the centre of the street. It would’ve been the quickest way to get to the warehouse, but also a damn sure way to attract all kinds of unwanted attention.
After about an hour and a half later he gained visibility of the warehouse, perhaps another hour distant. Michael pulled out a flask and took a swig, continuing to look around when his eyes caught something. A quick dash from one shadow to another.
He instantly brought his gun up, going down into a stance as he looked around. His heart thumping heavily in his chest as he heard the sound of loose rubble being disturbed. He began backing up towards a particular building so that he wasn’t flanked from behind when he heard something and immediately turned.
A demon.
Massive, fleshless, pink-red muscles oozing with pus and blood. Eyes bulging from the sides of its large circular head as if some dark, twisted god tried sticking two balls in there and failed. It’s mouth lined with rows and rows of jagged teeth, the top going down towards its incredibly thick neck. The demon’s arms were thin, and twice the length of its body. And it had three stubby, squat legs, each of them with a single, massive claw.
Michael backed away as the eyes swivelled and focused on him.
The demon lunged.
He jumped before it could get to him only for something to smash into him mid-air. Another demon, smaller, like a tall imp with oversized horns and swords for arms and insect wings on its back. Cursing, Michael shot the thing in its face and got up, rolling to the side as the first demon’s arm crashed into where he was moments ago.
Getting up onto his feet, he sprayed the fucker in the face and began running as it howled in pain. He turned a corner, hearing multiple feet above him on the broken buildings. He turned corners again and again, trying to lose the demon when several appeared in front and behind him in a narrow alleyway. One lunged, managing claw him in the face as he ducked underneath it, shooting it in the stomach.
He fired again into the rows of rushing demons in front of him, dropping several, but that’s all he needed to slip through and jump onto a ledge above and pull himself up to jump onto another higher ledge to the middle floor of ruined car park. He pulled himself up to his feet and began walking along the edge and finally jumped to the roof of an adjacent building and began going from rooftop to rooftop in order evade the demons below. And that one ugly fucker that nearly impaled him.
It was then that he heard fighting nearby. The sounds of demons wailing in pain. And he ran towards it.