Re: Styx's Testing [Altamira]
“Hsiev! Xi pux jewi tuni gsitj niev gus ep opvisitvoph tjux.”
The odd dialect was the first thing Styx heard upon awakening, accompanied by several responses. There was apparently a conversation being held, and he wasn’t in on it. He didn’t feel like opening his eyes, but he knew he had to. The floor was moving beneath him, or rather he was moving across the floor against his will. It was obvious he was being dragged, so he opened his eyes despite not wanting to.
Nope, he should have left them closed. He was definitely being dragged by the feet, or foot and metal leg, and by some rather odd figures too: Small, three foot tall munchkins, hooded in white robes with two red eyes peering outward. He hadn’t seen anything quite like them before, and he really didn’t want to see them ever again. There were about seven of them, all apparently struggling with his weight. “Oh God.” Styx grumbled, really not in the mood to push around some little kids.
“Jiz, ji’t exeli!” One of the things shouted in alarm. The beings instantly dropped his feet, backing up a little bit. Their white robes didn’t seem to suit their active and disorganized personality, but their clothes were most likely used as camouflage in the bright hallways of this asylum. Their faces were shrouded black by their white hoods, only their two beady red eyes visible. Styx wanted to see their face so he could quickly locate and pluck out their tongues. Their language was irritating to the extreme.
“Hsec vji tappist!” One shouted to another. In response, all seven pulled a device out from their robes, someone reminiscent of cattle prods. Styx lazily rolled himself backwards, head-over-heals, then to his feet. That stun from smashing the wall still pained him a bit, and left him rather tired. Even so, he had more than enough strength to kill these whelps. “Alright kiddos, step aside.” He said with a slight yawn.
“Hiv op mopi, nuptvis!” One, apparently their leader, shouted. Jumping forward and jabbing Styx in the stomach with his little mechanism. Instantly, a violent shock stabbed through his body.
“Holy fu…” Styx hissed, biting his lip. The pain wasn’t quite as bad as hitting the wall earlier, but it was quite close. He didn’t feel pain too easily, but surprisingly these little stunners did a good job at hurting him, mostly in his brain. He shook the sensation from his head; these little snots had overstayed their welcome. “Already, buggers, you leave me no choice.” The pirate grumbled.
A swift movement and his massive blade flew free from his back, forming a deadly arc through the air. All seven let out a pathetic little squeal, but stopped abruptly. They were all still standing. They looked around at each other, a little surprised and disappointed, yet grateful to be alive.
“What… he only has physical attacks?” One of the shrouded shorties said, surprisingly in understandable un-altered English. Styx was obviously a little surprised, yet annoyed that they hadn’t been speaking that way earlier, but more annoyed that they were somehow not dead.
“Aw man, not cool!” another midget grumbled.
“Well… he might die rather quickly, but he’ll still do.” He turned back to Styx, wagging his stunner cautiously. “Hiv op mopi, nuptvis.”
Styx realized his jaw was wide open in shock of their patheticness. What the hell were these little things? His blade passed through them as if they were nothing, and they chose to speak to him in a dialect that made no sense! “Alright, pee-snackers, I can understand English, stick with that language please.” He shook his head, deciding that he’d said the wrong thing, “Eh, never mind, just don’t talk at all.” He tried shouldering his way past them, but they only shoved him back. Their strength was surprising for little people.
“Pu, zua’si dunoph xovj at!” The leader protested, smacking his stunner against his hand.
That was it; he wouldn’t deal with these farts any longer. “F*** it.” Styx cursed, swinging Morbid off his shoulder. He slammed the hammer down on his trusty minigun, bolts of energy rapidly tearing through the annoying little creatures like wet paper. He barreled down the narrow hall, passing through the beings as his gun tore them apart. He glanced over his shoulder when he knew he was a safe distance, watching as they rematerialized before hitting the ground. It was a shame they didn’t at least bleed.
The hallway led in only one direction: Forward. He didn’t dare to carve his own path through the walls, for they could very well knock him into unconsciousness again. Whatever was at the end of this hall he hoped was the means to escape, but whatever he ran into it better not be more of those white jawas.
Speak of the devil.
“Get him!” they shouted from behind. “Hiv jon!” Their urgings only forced the cyborg to run even faster. They were fast for their size, but not nearly as fast as he was.
Suddenly, the hall ended. He didn’t know when or how, but it wasn’t a hallway anymore. He blinked and must have missed any sort of transition. The hall was now an open arena. Everything appeared to be made of a tan stone, which was a nice change of pace from all the white he’d been seeing earlier. The architecture reminded him a bit of ancient Egypt, but a little more sturdy from his perspective. There were stands and seats lining the giant, circular enclosure, and within those seats were countless white robes occupied by beady red eyes and irritating cheers and hollers.
“Ha ha!” An annoying voice laughed from behind. “He ran exactly where we wanted him to.”
Styx wheeled around, facing the pukes standing giddily in the hallway. “What do you want from me?”
“Ji’t e dmaimitt cagguup.” The head of the tiny brigade chuckled to his comrades, receiving a plethora of giggles and amused cackles as if they’d just heard the funniest thing ever. Watching them laugh at what was probably an insult at his expense, Styx wanted to kill those f****** all the more.
A medieval-looking portcullis fell in front of the hall, blocking the only apparent exit. He had no clue why they bothered with the gate; he had no desire to go back there. He turned back to the coliseum-like arena he’d ended up in.
For the first time, he saw it. Curled up in the corner like a giant snake, lay… what could have very well been a giant snake. Long, black, and covered in shimmering scales. Thick arms like trains and talons like scythes, they put his hell-grazing wings and bone-sawing teeth to shame. The beast licked its tooth-lined beak, hungry for its newly served dinner. It was more of a dragon than a snake, actually. In fact if it could breathe fire, there would be no doubt that this would classify as a dragon.
Styx knew that the technology behind cloning opened the possibility of bringing dinosaurs back from the dead and, in some cases, forming whole new species of animals with the proper mutations. However, through all of those months since his first day of freedom, he’d never seen a beast this large before.
Fantastic.
The killer gently juggled Morbid in his right hand, chuckling slightly to himself. What a challenge! He’d never fought something so large and magnificent before, there would even be a slight chance its brute strength would match his own. How would he start? He could allow the beast the first attack to test its abilities, or he could lunge forward for a preemptive strike. Either way was equally entertaining, but he’d made his decision.
“Eat pain, you overgrown turd.” With a click, his index finger curled around the trigger. The whirring of Morbid filled the air before finally unleashing a volley of energized projectiles.
The dragon hissed as the missiles made contact. Each bolt pinged and twanged upon impact. The black lizard’s scales were too strong, repelling every projectile that barraged its outer shell. Styx didn’t let go of the trigger, he let his gun run until it was overheated. He hoped to buy enough time to charge the Corpser in his leg, he knew the dragon would attack next and he needed a failsafe plan to escape it.
The moment Morbid ran out of steam, the lizard’s anger was already bubbling over. The beast let out a deafening roar, arousing a series of high-pitched cheers and screams from the stands of the coliseum. The bellow shook the very ground, instilling fear in the annoying onlookers, but not in its enemy. Styx’s face was beaming with pride, his teeth bared in a sinister grin. That dragon was going down.
The long scream from the massive animal ended with a stomp of its front leg, followed by its other front leg. Soon, the monster was in a full gallop, prepared to eat its prey in one bite. The minigun wielder shouldered his weapon, pulling his massive sword off of his back. The Corpser in his mechanical leg fired off just in time, sending him out of harm’s way and forcing the behemoth to slam into the wall.
Styx wondered for a brief moment what dragon blood tasted like.