Battle Scars I - The Immortal

Chapter 17: Insanity

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Eagle-Eye gripped the dog tags and ring he had removed from James tightly in his hand.

     He pocketed them. The tears falling from his eyes weren't his own. His face was hard. He felt nothing. Going over to the general, he knelt down with eyes as dead as the corpse they looked at. The hilt of his knife was in his hand, and quickly and methodically he removed the general's head. Purple blood began to pour from the wound, pooling on the floor.

     Eagle-Eye wiped the blood off the knife on his pants and sheathed it, then took out his revolvers, reloading them quickly. He put the revolvers back in their holsters. Looking around the room he found James' rifle on the floor and slung it over his shoulder, checking the clip to make sure it was full. Next, he picked up the head, getting his fingers under the inside of the back of the helmet and making his way for the door.

     The dark, smooth, metallic hallway tried to press in on him. Eagle-Eye continued regardless, reaching the door to the lobby. He opened it and walked in, taking one of his throwing knives from his jacket, throwing it at the door controls at the front of the building. Small bolts of electricity danced across the control panel as the knife was embedded in the entry button. The door shot open, and Eagle-Eye stopped halfway to it. He tossed the general's head out the doorway and it hit the ground with a sharp crack, rolling from where it landed down the steps. Outside there were angry shouts and yells from the Calthesian soldiers.

     Eagle-Eye ran up against the side of the door and waited, taking one of his revolvers in his right hand and his combat knife in his left hand. He heard the clank of armor and footsteps as the Calthesians approached the door. The first soldier came through it and as it did Eagle-Eye stabbed it in the abdomen.

     The feeling of it entering its flesh was wonderful. Unfortunately, the armor prevented him from ripping its guts out, but he could still try. The knife was removed sharply and the Calthesian screamed.

     Laugher filled the room as Eagle-Eye smiled, enjoying for the first time his greatest wish. He fired out the door as the body fell to the ground, taking out three more soldiers. Sheathing the knife and pulling his other pistol, he shot the troops that were on either side of the door as they tried to move in.  Walking out of the building, he looked out over three of the five streets that fed into the roundabout. Far down the side streets, nothing more than specks, he saw friendly forces engaged with the enemy.

      Artillery reports sounded all around him as the units continued to fire, twelve gray streaks, tipped with yellow, shot down the main street.

     Rage burned inside Eagle-Eye, almost matching the joy that he felt. It seemed as though he had the strength of a star that would never die.

     Holstering his pistols, he took James' rifle in hand, making his way to the first artillery unit. He shot the operator and then the support units who were feeding the artillery rounds. This process was repeated ten times until he reached the twelfth and last unit. He had to switch to his pistols when the rifle ran out of ammunition.

     His pistols ran dry as he took out one of the two support units, leaving one. He took one of his throwing knives and hit the Calthesian in the arm with it as it drew a pistol.

     It reeled, taking the knife and trying to stab Eagle-Eye with it as he reached it. He took it by the wrist and broke its arm. Then, he broke one of the Calthesians legs and forced it to the ground where he held it down by the neck. It was the last enemy in the area, and he planned on taking his time.

     He would have heard it struggling for air had his ears not been filled with the sound of his fist hitting its helmet. Eventually the helmet cracked open, but his hand had been long broken and cut by this point, yet he continued to beat it, even when the Calthesian stopped moving and he felt the skull break. His blood and the deep violet of the Calthesian's mixed and it only made him angrier, and he strived to hit it harder.