KINDA GORE I GUESS. (Skip to A/N at the bottom if you don't want to read.)
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Base Alpha.
7/6/20XXw
Link start.
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A sickening squelch followed the flesh as it slid down the knife. Cuba wrenched the blade from the split skull and the limp corpse fell to the ground with a thump.
Cuba whirled on his heel, the knife connected with its target. Blood sprayed from his attacker as his body slumped to the ground, joining his fellow squad member.
This time the warrior had no time to retrieve his temporary weapon, a cascade of bullets flew at him from all sides. The rest of the squad stood behind barricaded walls, the dinning cacophony of bullets and yells flooding his ears.
Ducking down Cuba pulled the body of his attacker up, his corpse acting as a temporary meat shield.
A solider welding a large melee sword charged him, a guttural war cry cutting over the gun shots. He had lost his gun in the fray and rushed forward, eager to cut the blood thirsty warrior down for his previous kills.
Cuba unhooked a short stick from his back and swung it around his meat shields neck, pinning the corpse on to his back he faced his new challenger, the bullets absorbed by now bullet mangled body pinned to his back.
The solider swung, narrowly missing Cuba as he jumped back to avoid the soldiers furious attacks.
Cuba swiftly drew the short staff away and swung in a circle, flinging his meat shield at the barrage of soldiers still firing.
The soldiers scattered to avoid the bullet mutilated lump of carnage flung at them, animalistic instinct taking over.
Cuba's sword welding attacker charged the stick wielding man, a unearthly battle cry of grief and anger as he swung. Cuba twirled his stick and flicked the small button on the sticks side.
With a smooth woosh the staff extended into a formidable weapon. It radiated an unearthly heat that swept the metal room in a flood of scorching heat.
Cuba twirled the staff around with a deadly grace, ducking under his opponents wild swings. Before the sword wielding solider could react the staff slid into his chest with a smooth 'shhlik'
Crimson coated the staff, blending in with the scarlet 'wood.'
The soldier let out a final breath, blood dribbling slowly from the corner of his mouth and splattered onto Cuba's clean hands. His body fell limp, hanging from the impaled staff protruding from his otherwise scarless chest.
Cuba wretched the staff from the still warm body, letting it fall to the ground with a dull thud.
Blood splattered across his face with the force of the tug and he attempted to wipe it away with his already blood sprinkled hand. He only resulted in a scarlet smear across his cheek.
The pyromaniac barley swung around in time, bringing his staff up he spun it one hand, the bullets deflecting of the smooth staff with what seemed like a deafening clang of metal on 'wood.' The soldiers had regrouped and were firing every last bullet they had left.
Cuba felt the familiar sensation of rage boiling up underneath his skin. His eyes burned white hot and he let his anger blossom forth into scorching flames that lit up the room, reflecting off the steel walls. Cuba's eyes glowed through the storm of sparks that fluttered in the flowing smoke.
He twirled the staff into whirlwind of excruciating flames that licked his staff and body in its raging heat. He slammed the staff down, the tsunami of fire burst forth, devouring the soldiers in read hot pain.
Cuba watched as the the fire ate the flesh of the soldiers into ash. Once the flames had incinerated all in their path they began to withdraw towards their master, tendrils of flame coiled like snakes up his arms, hissing unspoken words into his ears.
The tall metals walls were coated in a fresh paint of scarlet and ash. Silence rung through out the generator room. The only sound was the metallic hum of the heat pulsating generator that stood like a beating heart in the centre of the carnage cloaked room.
Cuba took a deal breath, bathing in the smell of smoke and burnt flesh flooding into his nostrils.
He strolled over the blood slick floor, stepping over bodies and ashes piled across the steel panels.
"Oh god. . . . . . . . ."
Cuba turned to face the shaky voice. A lady stood in the ravage entry, shaking she took a step forward. Her eyes scraped over the almost unrecognisable bodies that scattered across the floor. But no amount of wounds and charred flesh could hide their identities and the looks of pure terror etched forever on their still corpses.
"No. . . . You. . . ." Her voice quivered and trailed off into nothingness.
Her hands trembled and she reached out to the mutilated bodies. As if hoping that this was all a sick joke. That any second they would all jump up laughing, the bloodied man standing before her would laugh and introduce himself. That it was a just some pathetic joke.
But nothing happened.
The bodies lay still as stone as the last of the heat drained from their charred bodies.
Cuba sighed. The bloodied staff in his hands shrunk once more and he hooked it onto his back.
He turned to the lady, face void of any human emotion. "You have three seconds to leave before I incinerate you."
She just stared at him, her eyes dilated and her breath coming out ragged and fast. "How. . . . How could you do this?"
"I'm warning you." Cuba's voice was low and his hand began wandering up to his weapon.
Tears pricked her eyes and she felt fear snare her heart in its icy claws. "Why. . .?" She murmured. "WHY?!" She screamed at the empty man.
". . . ."
Her face hardened into one of pure, unquenchable rage. Her eyes glowed a radiant yellow, lighting the room with cracking lightning. "YOU MONSTER!" Her thunderous voiced echoed with colossal power, jarring Cuba down to his very core.
"Well." Cuba sighed once more, activating his staff he swung it around, ready for battle. His eyes glowed a fiery red in their sockets and the etched scar on his forehead radiated a forever glow. "I tried."
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Am I blind?
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Cuba kills some dudes guarding the generator/escape route and meets a new foe.
Sorry it's so short. 😖 I procrastinate and then rush things out so my stories are super sh***y.
OC Form:
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Personality:
Looks: (human or RHG looks, but if you give me the RHG looks I will translate them into how I picture them as humans. Be warned.)
Weapon/abilities:
Backstory:
Allegiances: (The Locus, or literally anything else. They could just be a solo RHG)
Other:
Rights: (are you letting me borrow the OC or giving me them? If you say borrow and i dont have enough info on things i will expand on them by my own accord.)
YOU ARE READING
Spinel (RHG)
General FictionSpinel. God, she hated that name. It tasted like ash on her tongue and she felt anger rise up in her when ever some one called her that putrid word. But it was hers. And she took it upon herself to wear it like a badge. She is nothing. But soon enou...
