The Rising - Ennead 1

Scene 3 - 808's, Heartaches and Legion, Act 2

The voice mocks as I twist and slice. I shift from stance to stance furiously, pulsing like mad and praying for it to end.

        The girl remains crouched on the asphalt. I’m forced to stand over her and use only grounded stances instead of the flowing ones I prefer. Some part of my mind detaches as I descend deeper and deeper into fury. My good summer blazer is shredded and for some reason I can’t tell if I’ve been fighting for a couple of minutes or a few hours.

        "Why am I fighting so furiously?" I ask myself. It's not just training, this goes deeper than reflex or instinct. I have to protect her, even if it means death. Why does the Under dark want her dead so badly?

RRRIP!

        I suck in my gut just in time. A line of fire spreads across my belly from an over sized black claw slicing at me. I’m tiring swiftly. My defense is broken. Now their strikes will draw blood. This is not something I’m used to; Gladiators... or at least Berserkers who wan't to be Gladiators don’t fight this way.

        My whip blade is meant for solo battle. For moving, weaving and driving. It’s an offensive weapon, definitely not defensive. But today I have to fight like a true Knight, standing in place and protecting a fair maiden.

        A stinger flies out of nowhere and almost takes out my right eye. Instead it gouges out a line of fire above my brow. The pain makes me close that eye for a split moment, enough time for a small dark-mutt to crunch into left shin.

I scream like a little girl. The pain is deliciously excruciating. My unconscious pulsing is so loud I wonder why no one has sensed it yet.

        There is a moment of silence as the motley crew of daemon spawn crawls back and regroups. I check the Network, cursing the fact that the mental sending capacities of the path I chose are the most pitiful out of the Six Societies. No Society member is close enough for an uplink.

        I hack up a gob of bloody phlegm and wheeze slowly. Somewhere during the haze of the frenzy, something had cracked a rib or two into my lungs. Every breath is agony and I can’t even call up energy to repair myself.

The mp3 player lies a foot away, screen smashed but somehow still faintly droning.

ok, okayyy
You will never stop it now
You need to drop it now…
Cause I don’t want no Robocop
You moving like a Robocop…

        I wish I was Robocop. At least I wouldn’t feel this tired. My arms do however feel as heavy as steel so there is that.

        The darkling menagerie parts and the Daemon steps forward from behind them. It  isn’t the best looking one I’ve seen, Its bound to a woman. An emaciated middle-aged woman with hollows under her eyes and with corroded skin and teeth like a meth addict. Oddly It’s wearing a dirty lavender bathrobe and bedroom slippers.

The Daemon cocks its head and smiles grotesquely.

“Give us the girl, Berserkerrr and we will ssspare you. Itsss just you and us herrre. No one would even know.”

My body is aching too hard to reply, but before I do the girl murmurs something.

        I spare a moment to glance at her. Her tears have left dirty tracks on her cheeks but at least she’s stopped sniveling. If she can stand there is still hope, she might be able to make a break for it.

Her tiny voice whines what she must have been mumbling before.

“Please don’t give me to them. Help will be here soon. Spider is coming, she said to tell you to hold th’ ground.”