"Prepare the battlements!"
General Gore paced amongst his well-fortified stronghold. Walls of mountain rock surrounded the area, isolated within a crater dug several hundred feet into the war-torn earth. The sunset draped the fortress in a deep, smoky black. "If we're going to capture Gyone," he continued, "we will not spare our most coveted of arms! I know you will not disappoint me!"
Two Anubians rested near a small river created by a mini waterfall from the rock's edge in an unnatural sputter, like it was dispersing from pipeline vein systems rather than naturally-occurred erosion.
Gore stormed in their direction, glaring at the two with inconsolable disgust.
"And what in the holiest of specters do you two think you're doing?" capping his anger on pins and needles. Quickly, the burliest of the two stood up to their feet.
"Well um ... it's ah ..."
The general's cap came undone.
"I don't care if your hands were torn apart finger by finger, you insubordinate turds! Get off your lazy hides and start stockpiling! ... Or maybe you'd fare better on restraining duty."
The leaner of the two stood.
"You're insane!" he exclaimed out of line, steadily marching. "That thing will eat us alive! It's been trouble ever since it's got here!"
Unamused, the daunting general viciously grabbed his insubordinate by the throat in retaliation, slowly tightening his grasp.
"At least feel grateful I'll let you die with your own damn opinion." Gore's fumes subsided. "Be happy with that much." He forced his cold, metal jaw within spitting distance to the choking Anubian. "I should let that thing use you as a chew toy after what you did, Private Oxmen.
"And be sure that the next stool you kick aside isn't the one under your goddamn feet. Because you've sure as hell done your fair share of kicking."
For a finite moment, his glaze expressed disappointment.
A flavor finely seasoned: father to son. But not entirely so. Not by blood, anyway.
He proceeded to throw Private Oxmen to the ground and stormed away to the center of the Anubian stronghold where a large, steel platform was eager to take on his weight. Standing as a true leader, fit and imposing stature, the general demanded all eyes without a word.
"Listen up men! One of our recon teams has reported that Gyone Irensho is drawing near. We need to continue our efforts twofold and keep vigilant.
"We cannot—and I repeat this once—cannot let him pass us by, understand?!
"Our only hope of survival rests within his capture. Once we have blasted him out of hiding and claimed our prize, we will prosper greatly and begin to rebuild our domain anew!" The crowd roared and cheered in unison. Their volume booming, only further amplified by the crater around them. A war chant worthy of calling even the moon to face their wrath.
Gore waited for the point to settle, silenced the crowd with a wave of his hand.
"Make no mistake: we need him alive, for those of you looking for blood. Even then, the thirsty should take heed that they don't spill their own. Our target is absolutely lethal and has earned the name 'Silent Death of Crygor.'
"He will not hesitate to kill you given the chance!
"Stand united, act as a unit, and never play the martyr. Dying should be a last resort.
"I cannot lie to you and say that we are immortals. That we will get out of this hunt without a fallen brother.
"There is a reason I require you heavily prepared.
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Serpent Game: Slave to the Shadows vol. 1 (Now on Kindle!)
FantasyA bullet severed him from the public eye. Now, one man fights to right his previous life. Gyone Irensho, a gun-for-hire, has risen from the dead. His benefactor, though has a price to pay: rid the world of an infectious evil only he, The Silent Deat...
