Chapter Five - A boy????(2)
A harsh wind whipped around the battle zone, sending clouds of ash and dust flying everywhere. The air stung with smoke and gunpowder.
On the cratered land, Ray lay on his side, ribs screaming with every breath. Overhead, the Carapex loomed closer, slowly inching forward, its eyes glinting maniacally. Its eyes burned with feral hunger as it stretched out its pincers, ready to deliver a crippling strike.
That was when the turrets roared back to lie. Hails of bullets tore through the chaos, shredding the silence. Hot brass rained across the dirt as bullets slammed into the carapex's armor, causing it to screech loudly and retreat in fear.
With some room to finally breathe, Ray dragged himself, coughing hard, out of the crater. He grabbed his war hammer and used it to steady his shaking frame. The weapon felt heavy, heavier than before.
His eyes remained locked on the carapex, sharp and calculating. He had to admit that the beast was far stronger than he had initially assumed.
And much more tankier too.
Contrary to expectations, that wasn't enough to make him cower, instead, Ray craved the battle even more. This was what he lived for, the struggle, the clash. The sound of life and death colliding
What he wasn't, however, was an idiot. He wasn't going to rush in for another round when he was severely depleted of force. So he waited, for sufficient force to regenerate, before he would once again plunge himself into battle.
The turrets continued their onslaught, chipping away at the monster's armor. Chunks of its tough shell cracked off and flew like shrapnel. Then, with a final hail storm, two of the carapex's pincers exploded apart, torn out of their sockets in a spray of dark fog.
The carapex stumbled back, screeching miserably.
Ray's heart skipped.
This was his chance.
Adrenaline surged through him, easing away the ache in his ribs. He gripped his war hammer tighter, feeling his force sufficiently restored.
Ray grinned.
His hammer pulsed as he begun injecting droves of hardness force into it. The ground trembled under his boots as he pushed himself up, breath sharp, eyes blazing.
"You're mine", he growled.
He charged.
The hammer dragged a trench through the dirt as he ran, clouds of ash rising with every stride. The wounded carapex turned toward him, its remaining pincers snapping wildly.
Ray didn't stop. He leapt, twisting his body mid air and brought the hammer down with all his force.
The impact cracked the earth. The carapex shrieked, armor fracturing under the blow. A fissure split open along its chest.
It tried to retaliate, one pincer lunging, slamming into the ground where Ray had been a second earlier. Ray had long rolled aside, dust exploding around him.
"Not this time." He spat, swinging again, furiously.
The hammer struck the open wound, and this time the shell gave way completely. Black ichor burst upward like a fountain. The carapex staggered, its body collapsing inward as the core inside it pulsed rapidly.
Ray steadied himself, raising the hammer one last time, his grip weak. His arms trembled, exhaustion eating up his strength, but he didn't hesitate.
"Stay down."
He yelled, bringing the hammer down in a final crushing blow. The ground erupted. The carapex's shell shattered, fragments scattering across the battlefield.
Then silence.
Only the heavy panting of Ray filled the air. He stood over the broken carcass, chest heaving. His eyes closed in satisfaction as relief surged through him. This was short lived as pain soon flooded his body as well. His adrenaline had died down, leaving only pain in its wake. He could almost feel his muscles squirming in tension and pain.
"Damn that beast" he cursed loudly.
"Old Ray", Sengfield's voice came from behind him, cutting through the stillness. It was low and weary.
"You might want to take a look at this"
Ray turned, muscles aching at every movement, his head still dizzy from the battle.
Sengfield was standing a few meters away, beside the van that had sat in their path since before the fight. It was untouched, almost pristine amidst the destruction. The van's frame was still intact, matte black plating, bulletproof glass spider webbed with cracks but unbroken.
Sengfield pried the side door open with a loud grunt. The hinges groaned.
Inside, the stench of blood hit them first. The interior lights flickered weakly, revealing the horror that stunned the men.
Guards, four of them, lay sprawled across the floor, their throats slit cleanly. Their guns were still holstered. No signs of struggle or a fight. Just an execution.
Near the center, a containment cage lay half-collapsed, its reinforced bars bent outward, like something had forced its way free. The locks sparked faintly.
And there in the middle of it, lay a boy who looked no older than ten. His dull gray hair shimmered under the flickering lights.. He was curled on his side in a pool of dark blood, one hand clutching a combat knife tightly.
For a moment, Ray thought the boy was dead.
Then the boy's chest rose, shallow but steady.
Sengfield exhaled slowly. "You seeing what I'm seeing?"
Ray crouched beside the boy, eyes narrowing. "Yeah"
His gaze swept the cage again, the bent bars, the blood trails.
"Question is…" Ray muttered, almost to himself, "was he the prisoner, or the thing they were trying to keep in?"