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s1lentsnip3r-a · 5 years ago

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bovnty‌:

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Uncontrollable and untamed were the words perfect for describing their rampage. Unlike the mercenaries that dared to stand against them, they weren’t held back by anything. Marley was a slave driver – a tyrant who knew how to crush everyone and anyone underneath his heel – and yet Nack and Whisper were far greater than him. Whereas he’d press his men to do his bidding with threats carrying the weight of an entire planet behind them, the duo coming for him listened to one thing only: their hearts.

Leader of the Hooligans and the former scout of the discarded Diamond Cutters, it was no surprise that they succeeded where everyone else would fail. As more mercenaries fell and the path to Marley became clearer, a wild grin remained upon his features. The taste of victory – the taste of vengeance – was far sweeter than anything he could have ever dreamed. There were men who were going to die without knowing something this pleasurable, and all the jerboa-wolf could do was weep for them.

He was getting what he wanted after so long. Casper Jovi Queen’s legacy was going to continue without being marred by this disgusting, filthy rat. Everything Nack bled for would come to fruition, all the while honoring the very sand that Casper’s blood stained 16 years prior.

Did Marley have time to prepare?

Yes.

Steeled regardless of the answer, Nack stood aside his partner as he glared the door to Marley’s quarters down. For a moment he thought against barging his way in and putting an end to the nightmares that have haunted him ever since he was a child, but how could he back down now? Marvelous Queen got him here through the gunfire, Whisper had his back throughout the chaos, and Marley was behind these doors. He was probably cowering, too, praying to whatever god that has long abandoned him to make his inevitable death a clean and quick one. Just the thought alone made Nack’s blood boil like lava simmering in the pit of a volcano. No one like Marley St. John deserved to escape their crimes. What he did was unforgivable to the highest degree, and all that mattered now was that after 16 years of cowering in fear, the Legendary Outlaw came to collect on all that suffering.

So, he kicked the door down with a force brought to life by the despair in his chest. Eyes then surveyed he room, gun weaving from side to side as if hungry for something to kill. After moments of looking at nothing except an empty room littered with dust and tattered furniture, one emotion swelled up from inside Nack and came sprawling out above all else.

Desperation.

“Where… is he..?”

Silence… Silence… Silence.

“Where is he…!?”

Frustration… Anger… Malice.

“WHERE IS HE!?”

Like a beast possessed, the rage-addled man tossed himself into the room despite every rational bone in his body begging him not to. There was nothing that could be said or done to stop him from tearing the room apart, knocking furniture astray and leaving chairs, shelves, and sheets without rhyme or reason on the floor. As he turned to face Whisper with a wild glint in his eye, an absolutely terrifying howl bellowed out from his lungs.

“WHERE’S THE PIECE’A SHIT THAT TOOK EVERYTHING FROM ME!? WHERE IS HE!? WHERE IS HE SO I CAN CRACK HIS FUCKING NECK!? I KNOW HE’S HERE – I KNOW YER HERE, MARLEY – SO TELL ME WHERE THE HELL YOU ARE SO I CAN TEAR. YOU. APART!”

“WHERE ARE YA HIDING, ASSHOLE!? WHERE. ARE. YOU. HIDING!?”

Did she feel it? Did she taste the rage? Did she experience the anguish in his warbling throat? Did it remind her of the man that also ruined her life, his tentacles still intact and his feet carrying him throughout the days like he didn’t slaughter her innocence? If she did, then maybe she’d also understand that despite that, they just fell into a trap as clear as the eyes of the men who took everything from them.

Marley St. John had them where he wanted them, mercenaries already piling into the floor below and blocking off any escape.. All that mattered now was when – and how – that rat bastard was going to strike.

Crows calling in the distance sets the stage, the murder gathering like a shadowy blanket around the building. Cawing their anticipation as the rustling of their feathers echo like ghoulish wind roaring to the heavens. Denied entry, and damned to the waiting, fiery hellgates below instead. Even higher still, condors circling in hypnotizing circles, smelling the crimson lifeblood poured upon the soil from high in the vacant skies. “You n’ yer mutt friend in th’wrong god damn place, half-blood. Comin’ into my town wit’ yer guns a firin’ n’ yer loud hollerin’ …an’ fer what? Ya ain’t got no place t’go now.” Manic laughter follows the snide drawl, chittering like rapping claws against rugged wood. Marley had plenty of time to stow away while chaos reigned outside, and it was made apparent by the slow way he sauntered down the hallway. The clacking of his boots resounding against the peeling floor panels in the space that fell so eerily silent, was haunting. He was walking down the pathway that many before him had, year after year, step by meticulous step. Mercenaries poured in from either side of him as he walked, infiltrating the room to surround the wolf and hybrid with guns and blades readied. The rat eventually made his way into the room after all mercenaries positioned themselves inside the room as well on the other floors below, the iron smell of blood and gunpowder filling his nostrils. He breathed it in deeply as he took a long drag of his cigar, dark smoke fuming out of his nostrils and gently parted lips as he exhaled. The long, wispy tendrils of the smoke looked like hellish flames dancing at the corners of his mouth, marking the crooked, wicked grin that carved across his face as his single good eye fell upon Nack the Nuisance. Nack the Nobody; a no one that so desperately wanted to become a someone. Smug and wretched, the rat moves closer to the duo.

“Life ain’t been too kindly-like to ya none. Y’look like shit.” Another deep drag of his cigar as the butt flared when he did, this time, blowing the puff of smoke into Nack’s face. “ I didn’t take a god damned thing from ya boy! Ya shoulda stayed down when I kicked ya black n’ blue, but ya went an’ got into my best man’s head, gone messed with his mind. Carin’ for ya?? That was his fuckin’ mistake, and now he’s sleepin’ in a hollow hole unfit fer a hamster inna box.” The boy showed promise, but he was always just that. A boy, with great convictions but ultimately, always getting in the way. He was always at the heel of Casper, and that weight really slowed down the renowned skunk mercenary. Like an anvil, growing heavier and heavier still until he could no longer pull. Marley would be lying if he did not admit that losing Casper had not been optimal, but there was something satisfying about dousing the hope in those that believed in him. Like pouring water over a wax lit candle and watching its orange flame die down into darkness. Marley knew better than to linger for too long, and he would not allow either of them to get an opportunity to get the jump on him either, but he could not resist seeing this scrap’s face again. Lucky fucker, he was, but all of that luck had dried up the moment he decided to exact his revenge. It was a fool’s errand to plan an attack with just two people upon these fortified grounds, and even moreso was it foolish to think that this plan would succeed. But he indulged the idea all the same, grinning ear to ear as his only bloodshot eye bore caustic venom through all his gaze fell upon. These two fools costed him a lot of trouble, time, and money, and they would pay for it with their lives. A death not swift, but agonizing, and he would squeeze every trace of life from their writhing, paling bodies. He turned around, another agonizingly slow puff from his cigar as he spit it out onto the ground and stomped it out. His hands fell to his belt, head slightly tilted as he addressed them just before he moved to leave. After he was gone, the mercenaries would take care of the rest. “ That grave was yours, boy, but Casper rots with the resta his men ‘nd you made his bed. But I ain’t sucha bad guy, y’know. I’ll let ya see ‘em. Personally, even. Right after ya scream n’ bleed for all the men ya done gone killed ‘ere today.”

She didn’t like this. She didn’t like this at all.

Whisper had been in so many scenarios before as a scout. She knows the telltale signs of an ambush waiting to happen. From the moment Nack failed to find who he was looking for, to the moment that the villain finally showed up. She could already hear the sniper’s rage boiling within his head, and she knew that it took every fiber of his body to even think at this point. The anger he was feeling was unlike anything she’s heard or seen from him before. This was the same kind of rage that she was familiar with. The same anger she felt for Eggman, Mimic, and Infinite. All three of them forged into one, singular rat, who now stood a way’s across from them, clearly within line of sight.

Whisper did not grant Marley the benefit of dialogue. Instead, she was already prepping her Wispon for the inevitable encounter -- but soon, she heard her wisps whispering to her. They were warning her.

Ears flick. She hears them. If she focuses hard enough, she can sense the movement around them. They were here -- they were ALL OVER THEM. They had escaped one ambush and fallen right into another. Her breath draws in deep, and she tries her best to tell Fang before it’s too late.

“ Fang.. they’re a-- “

But no. Before she could even finish her thought, it was likely drowned out by Fang’s incomprehensible anger. He’d yell and curse out the name of Marley, paying little to no mind to the danger surrounding them, maybe even fire off a few rounds right at him. But it would be too late.

They were already in the perfect position to be caught.

“ D-- damn.. ! “

The Death of Fang the Sniper

#/-\ SHE IS SILENT /-\ (IC)#t; The Death of Fang #pistolbitten #bovnty

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