015- Ugly bastard
Anna's men executed their maneuvers with the precision of a well-oiled machine, their movements dictated by their leader's strategic insights. The air crackled with tension as John unleashed his merciless [Rock of Doom], sending shockwaves through the ranks of her forces.
They recoiled under the relentless onslaught—first pinned down in a furious barrage, and then witnessing their chance to engage when the bombardment momentarily lulled. Time ticked away, and the battlefield transformed into a grim chessboard, where each move was dictated by survival.
With the passage of minutes, Anna watched in disbelief as their tactics began to yield results; the swell of casualties visibly diminished. Yet, the crackle of urgency revived her determination, spurring John to rethink his ritual of destruction. Hiroshi, wielding his deadly arrows with grace and precision, seemed to be depleting his quiver with every shot. Just then, John's relentless bombardment ceased, ushering in an eerie stillness.
"Men, push forward!" Anna commanded, her voice laced with desperation, each word a plea to end the brutal symphony of this fierce battle that had stretched to the breaking point. Her men obeyed, surging toward John's position as bullets spewed forth like vengeful rain.
But just as hope flickered, John's chilling laughter reverberated across the battlefield, a sound so diabolical it sent shivers down the spines of even the steeliest of soldiers. Hiroshi faltered at the sound, his arrow veering wildly, missing its mark and leaving behind only the ghost of a warning.
"HA HA, Lieutenant Commander Anna! It seems you've unearthed a vulnerability in my dear [Rock of Doom], a flaw I regretfully must share!" John's voice, initially tinged with mockery, twisted and morphed, acquiring a sinister edge that dripped with madness. Anna, a woman of intelligence and fierce resolve, felt the beauty of her carefully sculpted features contort into an expression of horror and doubt as she processed this revelation. A seed of hesitation sprouted within her; perhaps this was merely a ruse to unsettle her mind into chaotic turmoil.
Yet, as she attempted to rally her thoughts, the battlefield erupted in chaos. Her soldiers' eyes widened in terror—a descending storm of jagged rocks spiraled toward them, accompanied by John's maniacal laughter that echoed like a death knell. Time seemed to stretch as the horrifying realization sank in—her blood-soaked predictions were materializing, and the anguished cries of her men filled the air.
With a deafening cacophony, the rocks struck, sending grotesque bursts of flesh and blood erupting in a fiendish display. Body parts were flung grotesquely across the battlefield, creating a haunting tapestry of devastation. The frontline soldiers bore the brunt of the explosive onslaught, their screams melding into a nightmarish symphony—a haunting reminder of their futile courage.
Meanwhile, a fortunate few, shielded by distance, stood trembling, hearts pounding with thankful terror.
In that hellscape of carnage, Anna was left reeling, nearly alone amidst the scattered remnants of her once-proud battalion. Only a handful of her soldiers remained, alongside a few devoted healers trembling at her side—her heart heavy as the gravity of her choices settled around her like a shroud.
John's gaze bore witness to the tragic spectacle that unfolded before him, a sinister play orchestrated by his own cunning hands. His deep-set, round eyes were devoid of remorse, emotion cloaked behind a veneer of cold calculation.
A mocking smirk crept across his lips, curling into an unsettling grin as he reveled in the chaos. The weight of his bandaged body, once heavy with pain, finally found a grotesque sense of relief amidst the acrid stench of death filling the air. Nearby, Hiroshi shared in this twisted sense of liberation, his heart swelling with admiration for his captain's audacity.
John had deftly maneuvered the soldiers into a lethal trap, fooling them with a swagger that was as impressive as it was repugnant.
As the cacophony of despair surrounded him, Hiroshi, the blind shooter, swiftly approached, navigating the chaos with an uncanny grace that betrayed his supposed disability.
Each step was calculated, determined, and he stood before John, a blend of reverence and resentment simmering beneath the surface.
Meanwhile, John's attention shifted to the once-majestic Lieutenant Commander, now a broken figure sprawled on the ground. Her leg, elegant yet vulnerable, limped unceremoniously as she crumpled onto the blood-soaked earth.
The sway of her ample bosom was a cruel reminder of the brutal reality that had befallen her as she fell to her knees, wide, beautifully curved eyes filled with horror and despair. They were fixated on the mangled bodies of the soldiers who had served her faithfully in life, now lifeless shellsto̷r̶y̷.
In her mind, a tempest raged, an unrelenting storm of regret, resentment, and unfathomable anger, each emotion colliding violently against the other, vying for dominance.
Her gaze sharpened, darting toward the architect of this bloody calamity, her eyes narrowing in a myriad of emotions—a potent cocktail of fury and disbelief. John, the grotesque embodiment of treachery, met her glare with a sinister grin, an Icarus who had successfully soared too close to the sun.
She longed to unleash a fierce scream that could shake the heavens, yet her voice betrayed her, silenced by the enormity of her loss.
This was a cruel déjà vu for her; the second time she had borne witness to the explosive demise of her most trusted soldiers. The first ambush had caught her off-guard, a cruel twist of fate, but this betrayal—this mockery of her authority—was orchestrated by John's relentless manoevering, a puppet master reveling in his own dominion.
The remaining soldiers, still loyal yet shaken, sought to console their leader as she collapsed in despair, but their attempts fell flat against the wall of her grief.
John's pupil-less gaze was unsettling, perhaps more so than usual, as he appeared to look right through Hiroshi as if he were a phantom.
The silence hung between them until John caught his breath, taking a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. He heard the phantom whispers echoing unwanted in his mind.
"What a weird and disgusting yet smart move you pulled there, old man," Hiroshi quipped, observing John's ragged breaths. The stones scattered around John were a stark reminder of his pitiful attempt at warfare, his desperate preparations for battle. It seemed fate had played a hand, and although the initial onslaught hadn't delivered the massacre John had envisioned, it had wrought success nonetheless.
With a dramatic sigh, John slumped onto the ground, the weight of his actions finally catching up to him. "BRAT," he growled, the mockery dripping from his voice. "Seems like you've always underestimated me, but oh well, it looks like you finally grasp how I spared your life back then."
Hiroshi's expression twisted into something dark as the realization seeped into his mind—he had indeed been granted an unanticipated second chance. The gravity of the moment weighed heavy in the air as he stood silent, wrestling with the implications of this revelation. Before he could retreat into his thoughts again, John's voice pierced the suffocating tension, uninvited yet unavoidable, weaving the threads of fate tighter.
"Brat, keep your eyes peeled and be ready for anything," John growled, his voice laced with a sinister thrill. "I'm about to show this little wrench just how I enjoy delivering punishment..." His words hung in the air like the scent of storm clouds, heavy with the promise of danger. Hiroshi, caught in a maelstrom of uncertainty, felt his mind spiral into wild, chaotic fantasies.
In a moment of misplaced bravado, his bandaged arm slipped beneath his pants, his fingers engaging in a forbidden dance as he thought of John's dark intentions. Meanwhile, Hiroshi glanced warily at his dwindling supply of arrows, the weight of responsibility constricting his throat. With a reluctant nod, he steeled himself and sought refuge near Anna's position—a quiet sentinel among the encroaching shadows.
John rose from his crouched hideout behind a crumbling wall, his silhouette stark against the backdrop of impending doom. As he moved closer to Anna's location, an air of malevolence surrounded him, palpable and suffocating.
Anna's heart raced as she spotted him, a grotesque figure emerging from the abyss, and in his wake, her own soldiers filled with trepidation began to stir. They instinctively raised their firearms, their hands trembling as they aimed at the embodiment of their darkest fears. To them, John resembled an unholy specter, a harbinger of death poised to unleash a savage reckoning.
But amidst the chaos, Anna's resolve hardened. She cast a determined glance at her quaking soldiers, shaking her head in fierce defiance. "Fall back and retreat!" she commanded, her voice a beacon in the tempest.
"Find a commander and bring him here!" Disbelief flickered across her soldiers' faces as they hesitated, gripped by a mix of loyalty and fear. Anna sensed their reluctance, clenched her jaw, and pressed her point.
"No! You must find reinforcements! I will buy us time..." Finally, one by one, her five soldiers and the healers found their courage, nodding and retreating wilfully, even as the shadow of despair lengthened around them.
With a fierce determination that flared like a flame against the encroaching darkness, Anna stood tall and drew her sword, its blade glinting menacingly in the fading light.
"COME AT ME, YOU UGLY BASTARD!!" she bellowed, her voice reverberating off the walls of their shattered world. They could feel the tension thickening in the air, a prelude to the clash that would soon erupt... To be continued.
A/N: LONG CH FOR U ALL BASTARDS