Wild Awakening

The Chains fell slower than he'd thought. One dark line wiping downward. From a distance it looked like a guillotine descending on a chopping block. He'd expected some kind of sound—a drawn-out shriek, maybe? He heard nothing from where he stood. There were literal crickets chirping.

The Chains were coming closer, and he supposed they did seem a little faster. Maybe he'd miscalculated. Maybe it wouldn't be enough.

They landed.

Zane was blasted off his feet. His ears popped. All he heard was a high-pitched whining. Dimly he felt himself hit something, felt that thing give way—he tumbled through something else, rolled to a sloppy halt.

Coughing out a leaves and dust, he stumbled to his feet.

Where a compound had stood just seconds ago, there was a smoking ruin.

The walls were flattened. The cranes lay on their sides.

White fires raged across the land, melting steel plates off the walls. The gates, the walls, the whole front face of the compound had toppled over, giving him a clear view of the warehouse proper. He gave whoever made it some credit—it was only mostly ruined. Its front was squished in. The roof was crushed, slanted to the ground, burning so bright it was drowning in a lake of its own molten steel. There was too much smoke to see much else.

𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕌𝕡!

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟜𝟜 -> 𝟜𝟝

𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝕌𝕡!

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟜𝟝 -> 𝟜𝟞

So that was at least half of them wiped out, probably a lot more.

He stood there waiting. Were there survivors? Had he overdone it?

He was relieved to find there were dark shapes picking through the smog. A horde of them, coughing, swiping at the smoke pouring out through the mouth of the ruined warehouse.

One shape cast a bigger shadow than all the rest. It emerged from the smoke.

This was a mountain of a man, so laden with muscle it was hard to believe all of it fit; they bulged all over him, jostling with each other, competing for space on his gargantuan apelike frame. He was bald, with a sharp angular face. Across his chest—Mad Dog in capital letters.

He lumbered out into the yard.

𝕃𝕦𝕜𝕖 𝔾𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕤 (ℂ𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕖)

𝔼𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕃𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕝 𝟜𝟝

ℂ𝕝𝕒𝕤𝕤: 𝔹𝕖𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕣𝕜𝕖𝕣

𝕃𝕒𝕨: 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕠𝕣 𝕃𝕒𝕨 𝕠𝕗 ℍ𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 (𝔼𝕝𝕖𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕝 𝕃𝕒𝕨 𝕠𝕗 𝔼𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕙)

𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕤:

𝕆𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕔𝕜 (𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖) [𝕌𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕟]

𝕋𝕒𝕡𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕒 𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕝 𝕣𝕒𝕘𝕖, 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕝𝕝 𝕡𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕒𝕝 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕠𝕕𝕪. 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙, 𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕖𝕕, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕧𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕓𝕠𝕠𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕗𝕠𝕣 𝕒 𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕗 𝕤𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕥.

𝕀𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝔽𝕚𝕤𝕥 (𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖) [𝕌𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕟]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕚𝕤𝕥 𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕖𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝕚𝕣𝕠𝕟, 𝕣𝕒𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕕𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝟚𝟝%.

𝕀𝕣𝕠𝕟 𝕊𝕜𝕚𝕟 (𝔸𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕖) [ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕟]

𝔾𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕙𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕟 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕚𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕟𝕔𝕖, 𝕘𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕩𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕞𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕥 𝕔𝕦𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕜𝕤.

His weaknesses, shown in red, were like any other human's—chin, back of the head, eyes, liver, groin.

That Law bit caught Zane's eye. It was the first time he'd met someone else with one. Fascinating… The more he saw of this man, the more excited he got. He had a feeling this would be a good one.

Mad Dog stomped out into the yard. Their eyes met. Mad Dog's eyes were bloodshot, wide, trembling. But he didn't look shaken.

Instead he grinned. "You!" he rasped, "You just fucked up my base!"

"That's right," said Zane.

"And you're alone. All alone!"

Zane nodded.

Then the Mad Dog started to giggle, to his surprise. Giggles turned to laughter, full-throated laughter. "You're fucking insane! I love it!"

He stomped out towards him, out through the smoking crater of the portcullis, and his minions streamed out behind him. There were a dozen or so in all. A quick sweep told Zane they were all high-level 30s. They all looked furious.

Mad Dog stopped short of him and licked his lips. They eyed each other—Zane a graveyard of calm, Mad Dog twitching, trembling.

"You've come to challenge me!" sniggered Mad Dog, eyes bulging.

"Your man threatened my Faction," said Zane, "I've come for vengeance."

The Mad Dog looked at him. Really looked.

"No, you haven't," he breathed at last. "I see you. I see it in your eyes! You're like me, aren't you? You just like to hurt!"

Zane was silent. Then slowly, he started to smile too. "Not quite," he said. "But close." Somehow, at a glance, this Mad Dog had come closer to knowing him than pretty much anyone else. Maybe it took one to know one.

"Who sent you, Zane Walker?" purred Mad Dog, "The Iron Legion? The Thanatos Guard?"

"I'm here all on my own."

"Ahh. Good, good. Well, then! Have at you!"

And he lunged.

Zane whipped an Inferno Lash. Mad Dog raised his forearm; Zane saw Law smoking off his skin. The limb went shiny, metallic.

The Chain landed; Mad Dog skidded back nearly ten feet, hissing. "Fuck," he screamed. "That hurt!" And he grinned wider.

White fire danced atop the skin… and smoldered out. What?

The Mad Dog might have said it hurt, but he hardly looked damaged at all. Fire and earth had met— and earth had won. Easily.

Could it be that Laws of Fire were simply weak to Laws of Earth? He supposed it made sense, elementally—

The rest of Mad Dog's minions had circled him, closed in on him, and the man himself sprang for Zane, slobbering, cackling. There was no time to think. Mad Dog threw a hook down low. Zane countered high.

Mad Dog's fist landed first. He felt it deep in his gut, a fierce spike of pain; the wind went out of him. Then Zane's Chain slapped down, slapped the man straight into the ground. There was a harsh clang just before impact—rather than smash the Mad Dog's head like a pumpkin, it just sent him flopping away, howling. He was up in a second. And he was grinning.

So was Zane. They met each other's eyes. Nice shot, their expressions seemed to say.

Then an axe scored a gash in Zane's side. He turned, hissing, whipped out his Chain, nearly took the man's head off. A punch caught him by the ear, sent his head spinning; a sword stabbed an inch into his belly, ripped him clean up the middle. But his Chains reached wide, and he paid them back in full as they tried circling out.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟟𝟝%!

Shit, but there are still so many of them. Annoyingly many. They ripped at him from all angles, and he couldn't block everywhere, couldn't throw everywhere at once. He just had to keep eating them. Then came the Mad Dog, rushing in to take out a chunk of him. Zane would slap him out. He'd get back up, seemingly barely hurt, still smiling his manic smile. And lunge in again.

Zane was getting dangerously close to 50%. This wouldn't do. He had to think. Roaring, he spun his Chains about, lighting them up, blasting out a Chain Cyclone. His attackers were forced stumbling back. He had space to breathe.

There were still eight of them. Eight of them and the Mad Dog. Still just a little too many. They were too close to grapple. He needed a plan; he always had a plan—but there was no time to identify them all, no time to put all the pieces together.

So his plan was: Fuck it.

No more grappling. No more playing around. There were too many of them, too close.

He wrapped his Chains around one arm, loop after loop. Then the other, and mashed them together like gauntlets. He grinned a challenge at them all. Come get me!

And like rabid dogs seeing bloody meat, they lunged for him.

A sharp pain in his side, he whipped through a punch, shattered ribs, a fist caught his arm; he turned, broke its owner's face. Without the Chains to keep them off, they could crowd him up close. They could touch him whenever they wanted.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘! ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟝𝟘%!

𝕊𝕒𝕧𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪 𝕒𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕧𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕕!

𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝟚𝟝%

𝕊𝕡𝕖𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝟚𝟝%

𝕍𝕚𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕪 𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝟚𝟝%

But he could touch them too.

Insides ruptured, heads caved in. There was no time to think. He felt their axes chopping into him, hacking off slabs of flesh, he felt their steels carving up his legs. Already he couldn't feel most of his right leg. His left was wobbly too, but he kept slinging blow after blow. He was cresting a wave of feeling, faster and faster; he started to laugh. He slammed an elbow through someone's face so hard it split clean down the middle.

The Mad Dog threw an Iron Fist at his face. He ducked and ripped the Mad Dog to the liver. It felt like punching a slab of solid steel. The Mad Dog went spinning, spitting streams of blood.

𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘: ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕝𝕥𝕙 𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 𝟚𝟝%!

Zane whirled around. He kept expecting a spike of pain to the back, but none came. Then he blinked and took stock of his surroundings.

He'd started with twelve enemies. There were two left standing. The Mad Dog, and a tall thin one at his side.

Then there was Zane on one leg, bleeding half to death.

He locked eyes with the Mad Dog. Again they grinned at each other. They both seemed to sense the end. The Mad Dog lunged for him. So did the last minion. And Zane took them on, burning feverish hot.

He took a hit, slammed one back with twice the force. A fist clocked him hard up the chin, had him dizzy, blinking dark spots out of his eyes, but he lashed out, found flesh, and sent the Mad Dog scurrying. Back and forth they went, tearing at each other. The Mad Dog's last fighter played it smart. He never came in too close, never let Zane finish him off. He just lobbed from the sidelines, shoving Zane off balance here, slashing at him there, trying to give his boss an edge in this furious dance to the death.

Zane was getting near critical health. But he could tell the Mad Dog was slowing faster. The man didn't look hurt, but he'd stopped using one arm. His knees wobbled ominously, and he sagged over one side gasping.

Zane had hit him so many times, so hard… all that concussive force had to go somewhere. Seemed his organs couldn't take it anymore.

The calculus had changed. Now Zane's grin widened, showed teeth. They traded one more blow.

And the Mad Dog sagged to a knee.

"Good," he croaked. Blood dribbled from his lips. "Good, good, good! It seems you've got me, Zane Walker."

"It does," said Zane.

The Mad Dog cackled. "Shame, isn't it? I never want this to end! I'm having so much fun!"

Zane smiled grimly. They both knew he was too.

But he still stepped up, raising a fist—

The Mad Dog lunged.

Not at Zane. At his own man. The man fell back surprised, but he was a half second too slow. The Dog closed two meaty fists around the man's neck. And twisted.

It took Zane that same half second to realize what was happening. He leapt, but with his lame leg he could only get so far. Not far enough. The Mad Dog screeched, and rammed in elbow after elbow after elbow—

—the man fell limp, a broken doll. And the Mad Dog stood.

There was a brilliant white flash.

And he was healed. Whole.

Zane stared in disbelief.

Then snorted. "You planned that?"

That's my trick.

"It's insurance!" said the Mad Dog, giggling. "I'm always close to a Level. When I'm close, I don't go up! In case something like this happens, you see." He licked his lips. "That's the thing about creatures like us."

He tapped his skull. "Mad dogs get put down. You have to think! You've gotta be mad and sane. All at once! You did well, Zane Walker. You fucked me up real well. Fucked up my crew, too! Ah… too bad, too bad. Good fight. Good-night!"

He came at Zane for the last time.