Glenn, being a bit of a historian, had the knack of traveling when he had the chance. And while he considered himself to be well-traveled, he never once ventured off the main road. On this certain day, he was feeling a little more adventurous. His agenda was to traverse west from Lush Fields, into the forests of Clon****, then south off the road. Clon**** was still Omni territory, and he thought it would be reasonably safe.
After having an early lunch, he checked himself once more. Coat, identification, and his personal .919 revolver. He would embark on a lengthy stroll, and return by night. Taking the elevator down to the street level of Omni-Trade, he stopped by the Bronto Burger provider for a take out. The skies of Omni-Trade, he thought as he walked towards the ferry, was always painted an eternal gray, with specks of cargo carriers here and there, the roaring of their engines littering the air. The statues that represented the Corporation's efforts stood high and mighty, resilient to change. He wondered how much that resilience would crumble, given the current state of affairs.
He took the ferry west towards Harry's, a farm where Brontos young and old were cared for and slaughtered. He passed through apartment complexes and small-scale shops. Harry's wasn't as much of a tourist destination as it used to be, but their revenue has always been at a high.
Everyone's probably admiring the Shadowlands. Dangerously beautiful place. Not like I've been there.
He kept his pace west, where it was mostly open fields and the occasional leet, until he reached an Omni outpost after an hour and a half. He glanced at the soldiers patrolling the area, clad in black with plasma rifles in their hands. Half of them looked bored out of their wits, the other half ever so stalwart as expected from the AF. Supposing Clanners had suddenly bombed the area, he thought, how fast would they respond. While he never thought negatively often, he always thought about the worst possible situation.
He continued further west, keeping watch on his personal terminal, until it confirmed that he was now in Clon****. From the distance, he could hear the notum export cannons every few seconds. He realized how rich in notum the planet was. Veering south, he decided to slow his pace in order to better absorb the surroundings. He met the bottom of a cliff where laser fences were prominent. If he remembered right, a well-known biologist had his own laboratory here. About a hundred yards to the left downhill, he observed a pack of hounds, resting from the day's hunt.
Passing the biologist's complex, he continued south for another hour.
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And abruptly stopped in his tracks. He caught a faint smell, and it was a smell he knew well: those of rotting human bodies. He noticed the sky was dimming, but his sense of justice could not disregard the anomaly. The light was still sufficient, so he pressed forward, finally tracing the odor to an abandoned building of two stories. He observed the building from a distance. It was shabby, in a state of decay. The windows were shattered and there was no trace of life.
Unholstering the .919 from his coat and fumbling for a light, he cautiously proceeded forward and entered the building.. He didn't think his stroll would amount to this, but he knew it was the right thing to do. He decided that once he uncovered the source of the odor, he would contact Pol or the AF right away.
"Is any one there?"
He didn't expect an answer. The interior was dark, damp, and unfurnished, and gave him the impression of a rushed construction. He searched the first floor thoroughly, and concluded that the odor must be on the second. All the while, he felt as if he was being watched by someone...no...something. However, it was only a gut feeling; while he was a spiritual man, he did not believe in the supernatural, and neither did he feel a presence. He flashed the light around as he approached the staircase, reassuring himself.
When he took the last step of the stairs, the air changed into one that was sinister. The sun, whose light shone through the broken windows, faded into darkness as it set. He was appalled by the sight that lay in front of him. There were a dozen or so bodies of the four breeds, mutilated, torn, trailing across the corridor. Dry blood was splashed against the wall. Arms, legs, and insides had been strewn along the floor. He dared not take another step forward; he had completed his objective, but something compelled him to keep moving. Until he explored the entirety of the floor, he wouldn't be able to report with complete detail.
He moved towards the other end of the corridor, slowly but surely, trying not to notice the massacre that painted the grim scene. But he couldn't help it. As he strode, he noticed that the people were from all walks of life. Some wore leather coats, jewelry, others wore generic garb. If there was one thing in common though, it was a small line of red tape along the left chest. He tried to think of reasons why this killing had occurred. Had someone gathered the people here? Or was it simply a dumpsite? His experience with forensics told him at a glance that the bodies were dead for no more than a week. None of the corpses were fresh, and he concluded that someone must have killed them in one go. And whoever it was, that person would have to be very intelligent to convince a dozen people to gather in one building in the farthest reaches of Clon****.
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That, or it was merely a dumpsite.
There was a fairly large room to the right, although empty. He sighed in relief as he reached the end of the corridor. The moment he turned towards the direction of the stairs, his light flickered, and steadily disappeared.
Great.
The night was still young, and he figured he would reach the nearest outpost in an hour. He made for the stairs, minding the bodies so he wouldn't step on them. Halfway towards the stairs,
He froze.
For the first time since entering the building, he felt a concrete presence. And this presence came in front of him, ascending the stairs that would be his exit. The hall was dark, but nevertheless he pointed the revolver in front of him. The presence made no noise, he only felt it approaching. Glenn's mind was screaming. Cold sweat started to form on his head. He twitched his eyebrows and started breathing calmly, but he knew, in the depths of his heart he was afraid.
He saw deep red eyes which traced the air, coming up from the stairs. He stood his ground and looked straight at the eyes. He couldn't make out what it was, what kind of body it had, if it was human or humanoid...or if it even had a form at all. The only thing he was sure of was it would take a miracle to save him from the impending danger. Time froze. What would he do? The creature didn't seem to notice him yet. If he ran, the creature would be alerted. If he stayed in place, they would eventually collide. There was very little trace of light in the hall, so he thought if he kept with the pacing of the creature, he could slip into one of the rooms.
He lowered his gun, and very minutely moved towards the opening of the room, half a meter in front of him. He took care to make his movements stiff, smooth, and most importantly, silent. He successfully slithered inside the room, and pressed his back against the wall. He waited, for what seemed like an hour, ten minutes, until he felt the presence disappear.
Remembering the direction of the nearest outpost, he closed his eyes and let out a most quiet sigh. Composing himself, he opened his eyes.
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Only to find that the blood red eyes he had been eluding were gazing right at him. He let out a shriek, and aimed at the creature. Malignant jaws which revealed white teeth opened and bit.
His final thoughts were,
Since when did I own a .919.....?