Solstice: Part Two

The First Crusade: Blood Moon Battle

                     

          Three claymores seemed to be a little bit of overkill to Sutton.  Only eight proxies got killed, amazingly, but still. 

          Shrike had (God only knows how) gotten a hold of mustard gas, and lots of it.  He carried a bulging sack of canisters filled with mustard gas that he was flinging mostly at the Basroil soldiers.  They hadn't been prepared for chemical weaponry, and many had retreated to nurse heir wounds, while others struggled to aid the Runners despite the horrific blisters rising under their armor. 

          Both sides had wisely brought all sorts of makeshift shields and body armor (ballistic shields were popular on both), but neither knew how well their enemies would be armed.  Gunfire rang out across the clearing, punctuated by screams and cries of fury.  The fighting was spreading out from just the main field; away from the most intense gunfire and bloodshed were smaller battles, duels and personal feuds playing out amidst the darkened trees.

          Crete, a huge Proxy in a blood-red hockey mask, wielding a shotgun, had just destroyed a target he had hunted for months throughout the Midwest.  Orthrus, in his fearsome Greek double-headed dog mask, was in a knife fight with an older man who had escaped him as a child. 

          Sutton's riot-strength kite shield (which he had also lovingly crafted) rang with the last desperate gunshots of the boy on the ground before him.  Sutton's saber dealt a swift slash to his jugular, and the Runner died.  Sutton did not wait to revel in his triumph, looking instead for more stragglers to execute.  His ears fell on the sound of an empty Benelli M3 clicking but a few meters away, nearer to the main field, where much of the fighting had scattered.

          Amelia.  The "Heroine."  She had finished lobbing her Molotov cocktails and now found herself being faced with the Proxy commander and an unloaded gun.

          Sutton allowed her pick up the long iron spike of a fallen comrade. 

          "Let us see how she fares without her Hero," Sutton sneered.  He lunged forward with his saber, but Amelia was quick enough to block him.  Her spike slid off of his shield when she returned a strike.

          "You didn't come prepared," Sutton laughed.

          "Neither did your Master," Amelia spat back.  "Twiggy's going down tonight."

          Enraged at her insolence, Sutton advanced.  The two matched each other blow for blow, strike for strike, parrying and maneuvering like two dueling serpents.  Sutton was indifferent to all but a few peripheral happenings: Acolyte beheading a Basroil officer and emptying his laser carbine into the rest of the squad; Shrike setting several canisters alight before igniting the field's northern tip in acrid flames; the Trickster gutting Rook with a switchblade; a man in a Santa suit, wielding a chainsaw, severing Crete's left arm before he could reload his gun.

          Then He arrived.

          Once Zero had stepped into the middle of the field, the Operator had advanced toward him, hands clenched into fists, tentacles swishing.

          Sutton's Master stopped before Zero, removed His hat, and took a bow; mocking the Hero.  Many of the fighters had retreated to opposite sides to watch the confrontation, some ready to rush in and assist their leaders.

          How interesting to see you in a mask, Runner, He sneered.  You brought a blade to challenge me?  En garde, then, Zero.

          Zero's sword glinted in the moonlight as it flew down upon the Slender Man.  But He sidestepped the blade, a cloud of tentacles flying at his face.  Zero's sword swirled in front him, slicing at the tentacles.  More of them cracked like whips at Zero as he backed away.  He drew the taser from his belt and prepared to fire at the Slender Man.

          A thin leg flew sideways at Zero, knocking the weapon from his grasp.  Zero swung the sword again and again, every time stopped by a white, nail-less hand.  At last five tentacles curled around the hand in which Zero held his sword.  More slithered about him, binding him and pulling off the monster mask.

          Now, we will see how one can divide Zero, He said. 

          Amelia cried out from afar, and Maduin prayed inside the rabbit mask.

          There was a bellow from across the field: "Behold, Noodleman, THE BAAAAAANHAAMEEEEEEER!"  The man in the Santa suit came rushing at the Slender Man with a huge sledgehammer.  The impact knocked Him backward, against a tree.

          Without hesitation, Zero picked up the sword and thrust it into the Slender Man's chest.

          A high frequency pierced the ears of all in the field, as He cried out in surprise and pain.  Then a physical, unholy cry issued from His mouth.

          His mouth.

          There were no human lips, but rows of sharp, needlelike teeth and a dark tongue. 

          Shrike literally emptied his sack of mustard gas onto the Runners' side as firing began again.  Sutton ordered a full retreat, as both sides could feel their time had ended.  The Proxies and Runners fled to from whence they had come; the battle under the blood moon was declared over.

          A few last shots were fired; the Fallen fired one more crossbow bolt through the acrid gas clouds, a Runner launched a skyrocket that illuminated the field in brilliant hues of gold, red, and blue.

          Zero was gone.