18 CHAPTER 18: Gila's Bite

Alex came at Holts at a spiraling angle while unleashing the power of his rounds, each one giving him a trust backwards that he had to continuously nullify by leaning inwards while posting and springing with his outer foot. He delivered the bullets clean and precise in his roundabout, but this was no trouble for Holts. His pupils were fully expanded as he used his own altered perception to do something Alex had never thought possible. He was shooting the bullets off their path like it was child's play! The amount of skill and concentration Holts had mastery over was equal to none Alex could have ever envisioned. This was Gila, the newest and best sharpshooter in the Brotherhood, no, quite possibly the world. A great admiration fell over Alex. He knew he was fighting with one of the best, a superhuman amongst superhumans. He was terrified, and his heart raced, trying to keep his body filled with oxygen. The bullets ran out, signaling for Alex to take a more inclined angle inwards. Alex advanced towards Holts, who instead of throwing his weapon down again, reloaded the gun with a speed measured in milliseconds, letting the spare cartridge slowly fall down to earth as he used nimble hands to make a perfect sliding insert. Alex had heard that Holts' reload time was so fast that they had trouble making a magazine system that could eject fast enough while getting the extra mag out of the way so he could plug in a new one. Their result was granting Holts special prototype weaponry in comparison to Alex's cloned automatic rifle used by most Brotherhood members. The bullets kept on firing at Alex from a close range which he could not dodge. Thankfully, his worn armor was barely enough to stop the barrage of metal that Alex faced head-on, but not for much longer. Holts began aiming for weakened points and holes in the armor. Three bullets ate their way through into Alex, who grunted, but still ran strong. The bullets were small, not nearly the size of the automatic or sniper rifles', and though they were fast, they did not stay that way through his body. Alex's only true concern was a scratch in the armor of his helmet from a scraping sniper shot earlier. The adrenaline surging through his body kept him running as he made his first contact with that behemoth of a man. Alex thrusted and slashed, hoping for a deep cut into Holts' inner body. Alex had no such luck, as the man took one slash to the arm before beginning his own series of offensive maneuvers. Upon Alex's deepest reach yet, he saw his opening. He grabbed onto the barrel of Alex's gun and heaved back with his entire body. Holt's superior weight flung Alex up into the air along with his gun, preparing to smash the gun and body down on the solid concrete roof with tremendous might. Alex, knowing better, decided to let go half-flight, sending him flying sideways and making him collide with the ground, rolling and hitting the side guards of the roof beside the empty sniper rifle. Alex scrambled upwards and took a glance at the gun. An idea came to him, a product of the memory of him throwing the giant stump-sized log back in the forest. He heaved up the extremely dense chunk of metal, and quickly used his hands and body weight to swing it like a club behind him at an angle that dipped down and came back up as he finished his semi-circle towards Holts, who was lunging at Alex and only then realizing his mistake. Alex flung the heavy-weight projectile at remarkable speeds, the rifle's spin smashing into the side of Holts' unprotected jaw. Alex saw the shockwave vibrate through Holts' head, neck, and body as he was thrown off-course. Holts stumbled against the side guard, wasting a split second to the shock of the blow after the impact. Holts opened his eyes and peered over his shoulder, only to see the small sparkle of glass shards before they entered into his eyes at subsonic speeds and cut out his vision. Alex grinned uncontrollably with immense glee, as he had known the shards from the door would probably come in handy, so he snatched a few and put them in a pouch on his waist belt. Eyes- they were the softest part of a GMH's exterior. He was truly grateful he had picked up that valuable information. Holts never wore a visor or even a helmet extending below the top of his head, for reasons unknown to Alex. He quietly rushed to his gun and steadily walked up to the blinded Holts he lifted his gun, ready to bring it down into Holts' neck with all of the force he could muster. Suddenly, Alex found his body swinging to the floor, a result of a quick Leglock performed by Holts. Alex saw as the bear of a man dived on top of him.

"Shouldn't have been down-wind," he muttered before opening his massive jaw lined with teeth both flat and sharp, biting into Alex's neck up to the bone. In the few seconds Alex had left, an unnatural pain coursed through his body, exciting his nerves to the most of their extent, triggering an entirely new league of pain that Alex had never imagined he could ever feel, even after the hundreds of deaths he had endured. This pain was the result of a wicked venom produced in Holts' saliva, a venom that gave him the name known in horror by his foes. He was the great Gila, a monstrous lizard who would take a bite out of prey and predator alike, putting them in their rightful place once and for all. Alex was returned beside his pod again, vibrating in a heap of agony on the ground. Phantom pains still plagued him after death, making him wail uncontrollably, wide-eyed and kicking up against the ground. And he really thought he had been in hell before. How foolish he was for thinking so. In this state, there were no seconds, minutes, or hours. It all blended together, meshing up into one horrible eternal nightmare. He could not think, he could not function. Saliva frothed from his mouth and tears streaked down his disgusting, wrinkled face. He remembered seeing a flash of darkness, followed by a blurred face. He saw the face come closer, and the blurred grey and blue walls in his peripherals disappeared. Had they lifted him up from this dreaded coffin? He did not know, and could not feel it, nor did he even care about it. Only one urgent thought burned red through his mind. Make it stop. Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!!! He opened his lips so desperately trying to let those simple words escape from his mouth, only to be hopelessly restrained by the gurgles produced from his convulsing throat by his quivering jaw. He took a few short, heaving breaths before the sweet ecstasy of unconsciousness settled over him relieved him from his suffering.