A Raid VI

At my mocking words, Setesh's eyes flashed in anger, and he raised his right hand towards me, his crystal glowing. I raised my left hand, and the moment Setesh shot a shockwave towards me, I did the same, timing it to the very second.

The air in front of us exploded with a boom as our shockwaves canceled out, the remnant force blowing away some items in the room.

We both recoiled from the attack, sliding backwards, but I forced myself to a stop near the empty doorway and lunged toward him as he almost tripped on top of the unconscious girls.

With a flick of my wrist, light glinting on the shiny surface of the sleek blade of my dagger, I aimed for his exposed flank, hoping to cut through his flesh.

A metallic clang echoed in the room as, with inhuman reflexes, he blocked my attack with his hand device, the blade bouncing off it. He swung his right hand sideways toward my face, but I jumped back at the last minute, dodging it by a hair's breadth.

He extended his right hand at me and shot another shockwave, but I ducked, missing it as it struck the wall with a boom that shook the room, dust and gravel spraying.

He charged towards me, sending a heavy kick to my head that would've given me one hell of a concussion if I hadn't backflipped away.

Extending my left hand, I pushed out a strong shockwave toward him, but he brushed it aside with an energy shield, stepping toward me.

I rose up quickly and barely managed to sidestep a jab that cut through the air with a force that pushed wind into my face. Taking advantage of his exposed side, I swiftly swiped my dagger across it.

The blade bit into his flesh easily, blood spraying out, but it wasn't able to bite deep enough as Setesh managed to step backward before I could inflict any serious damage.

Hissing in pain, he moved to the side and touched his wound with his left hand, raising it to his eye level. His brown eyes narrowed to a point, rage filling up his eyes as he saw the crimson blood flecked with violet staining his fingers and palm.

Breathing shallowly as I watched him do this, I swung my dagger casually, flicking the blood off the blade, and slowly started circling him.

"You will pay for this with your life," he threatened viciously, eyes widened in fury, almost growling, as he moved counterclockwise in my direction, the harakesh crystal glowing.

"Waiting to see how you'll do that, Almighty Setesh," I smirked, making sure my voice was spiced with as much contempt as I could muster, hoping to rile him up.

"You know, it's almost pitiful how weak you are for someone who was once a System Lord. I expected more from someone who claims to be the God of Death.

"But then again, I guess I shouldn't be all that surprised. After all, you are first of all, a false god. No, you're worse, a disgraced false god.

"And secondly, most important of all, you're a coward and a loser in exile, hiding out on this isolated rock of a planet from Ra.

"Someone who has by this time, forgotten about your poor excuse of an existence. But don't worry, when you eventually fall by my hand, I'll make sure every Goa'uld in the galaxy, including Ra, remembers your name and knows about how weak you are and how easily you lost your life.

"I'll make sure your entire existence will be made into a joke, a joke that will be told even to the lowliest of slaves so that everyone will laugh at your pitiful legacy until perpetuity.

"That I promise you, Setesh."

I told him, my tone and voice reeking with disappointment and disdain, a wide scornful smile spreading across my face as I continued circling him like a predator stalking its prey, eyes searching for the right angle to attack.

My words seemed to strike a chord in him, targeting his insecurities in a way that made his eyes widen and rise to their limits, his body shaking as pure unadulterated fury and hatred started burning in his eyes, neck muscles tensing and pulsating.

"Aarghhhh!" He roared at the top of his lungs, reverberating across the room, as his eyes glowed white, and immediately dashed towards me like an animal blinded by wild rage.

"...Checkmate," I whispered, grinning, as he reached my position, his body left wide open for attack.

Dodging a powerful blow intended to take out my nose, I shifted myself and countered with a swift slash across his right shoulder. Blood spurted into the air, dropping down like rain onto us and the floor.

In his rage, he ignored the pain and grabbed my shoulders, his fingers biting into my flesh like a vice. I didn't attempt to break off his hold and rocked my head forwards, my forehead impacting his with a loud bang.

A little disoriented, he released me as my head ached slightly from my attack, and I immediately ducked under an outstretched arm heading for my neck, the knife firmly in my grip as I sliced across his thigh, the blade cutting through white flesh.

He screamed in pain and stumbled, almost falling to one knee, but his superhuman endurance and resilience kicked in and steadied him as I sent another slash to his right arm.

He was quick to parry, deflecting my attack with the golden surface of his karakesh, with a strength that sent a shiver down my spine and made my wrist ache.

The crystal glowed and quickly, I stepped to the side, narrowly escaping a blast of shockwave that nicked strands of my blond hair and hit some of the furniture in the room with a boom, shattering them to pieces.

Finding it difficult to breathe, I pulled down my half mask with one finger, panting heavily as sweat trailed down my face to soak my dark clothes, muscles and joints protesting, as I started circling Setesh again who was weakly rising to his feet, groaning and grunting in pain.

Despite his wounds and the fact that he was bleeding profusely, blood trickling down from them, he was still fighting. That was a Goa'uld for you, bastards were hard to put down due to their superhuman physical characteristics.

If he was an Ashrak or any Goa'uld that trained and fought regularly like Apophis or Her'ur, I'd be dead by now. I would barely see the attacks coming.

Luckily, Setesh was just like most Goa'uld, almost never having fought any battle on their own for ages. They were so reliant on Jaffa or human troops, their karakesh, and other advanced technology or weapons, that they'd lost that instinct, that awareness for combat.

So when faced with someone like me who stood with them on virtually equal grounds, he panicked, faltered, and made common mistakes, mistakes that no seasoned military officer or Jaffa would make if they were in his shoes.

It was a shame, frankly embarrassing how Setesh was fighting. A part of me, the hunter part, felt insulted since deep down, I was expecting a harder fight, a worthy battle that I could someday brag about.

But I was just disappointed. Hewas just so weak that it almost made me pity him. With all the blood he'd lost, most of his strength had been sapped away. I could end the fight right now if I wanted to.

But no, not yet. The fight had to go on just a little longer. He had more suffering to endure. I wasn't done pouring out all my anger and frustration just yet.

I narrowed my eyes at him as we locked eyes, his eyes red and slightly hazy but still burning with hatred and anger, his bloody teeth gritted.

He started limping, his right hand hanging somewhat loosely by his side as he attempted to draw some distance between us, but I didn't let him, charging towards him immediately.

When I got close, he mustered up whatever strength he had left and came at me with a flurry of hard, fast punches that would've put any seasoned boxer to shame.

I deftly parried each blow patiently, using my dagger to block and deflect his punches, each time countering with small slices across his torso, drawing more and more blood.

His superhuman endurance allowed him to ignore and shrug off many of my attacks, only serving to increase his rage and frustration, providing him with the energy to add kicks into the mix.

I danced around him, my body twisting and moving as I parried, blocked, and swerved his attacks, my movements graceful and fluid as I replied with more nicks, cuts, and slices that drew bloody arches and lines across his body like an artist painting a picture.

Eventually, his body could no longer ignore the toll that the steady trickles of blood were taking on him.

His attacks and movements became sluggish, his legs wobbly, eyes dazed, breathing labored, and a face as pale as chalk as copious sweat dripped down to soak the carpet together with his blood.

Casually shifting my head away from a very weak and slow punch, I decided to end this fight and stomped hard on his left knee, breaking it with a crack.

"Ahhh!" He yelled out in pure agony as his knee bone bent the wrong way, and he sank to the floor on one knee in front of me.

I watched in cold detachment as he tried to raise his karakesh desperately to no avail as a result of the deep wounds on his right hand, the center crystal glowing intermittently and then dying.

"P-P-Please...spare my life, I have tr-treasures, vast treasures to pay for my life. Please don't kill me." He begged pitifully in Goa'uld, his voice breaking and straining, blood staining his lips and chin as I threw my bloody dagger away and rose my left hand to his forehead.

"Your treasures are already mine, Setesh," I commented coldly in English, priming up my harakesh. "You have nothing to offer. Now, you die."

His eyes widened, brimming with unimaginable fear at my words. He tried to move away, but I kicked his stomach harshly and grabbed his hair as he doubled over, pulling his head up for him to face his retribution.

"Nooo! Pleas– Arghhh!" His pleas got cut short, and he started screaming, his eyes bulging, as my harakesh hummed and poured out a column of golden light onto his forehead.

The light grayed his forehead, like an X-ray, giving a clear view of his skull and the symbiote lodged and twisted around the base of it, squirming like a giant worm as the radiation sent waves of inconceivable torment into its brain.

His horrifying screams continued, reaching a crescendo, as the golden light slowly and painfully tortured the symbiote.

I felt nothing doing this, torturing him, slowly chipping his life away, regulating the intensity of the radiation with my mind so that he would die experiencing the worst kind of pain any being could experience.

It scared me, the coldness and apathy I felt towards him, especially the pleasure I was feeling doing this to him.

Sure, I wanted him to pay for what he'd done to the poor boys and girls he'd taken as his slaves or followers, but it wasn't just that.

I was venting, using him as a scapegoat for all the bad and miserable stuff that he and his race had done to humans that were haunting my sleep, keeping me awake and ebbing away at my sanity.

I was pouring out all my anger, frustration, sorrow, basically every negative emotion that came with the memories I'd inherited, on him. And it felt so good.

I remembered my shrink from my past life advising me to let it all out once in a while. She told me that it was healthy and a good way to release pent-up emotions and all that. That it would feel good when I did it.

...I wondered if this was what she had in mind when she told me that.

Suddenly, his screams abruptly stopped, and he crumpled on the ground with a thud, dead brown eyes widened in terror, blood slipping out of his uncountable wounds and mouth to soak the carpet. He was dead.

With a thought, I deactivated my harakesh, making the light fade away with a hum, and fell to the ground on my ass as the adrenaline rush faded, breathing heavily, heart rate racing.

I grimaced and hissed in pain, as the full brunt of my overexerted muscles, tendons, and joints, sent rivers of aching agony flowing across every fiber of my tired body.

A wry smile drew on my face, and I chuckled self-deprecatingly as I stared at Setesh's dead still bleeding body, fingers raking through my soft hair slicked with sweat as the full implications of what I'd just done sunk in.

Setesh the Goa'uld was dead, but so was Set Farguoge, his host. I'd killed a monster and condemned an innocent man to a harrowing death.

I had blood on my hands now, and this time, I got it there myself. This wasn't like the deaths simulated in my memories. This was something I did myself; there was no Goa'uld to blame.

I wanted to feel something, something besides plain pity, but I couldn't. No guilt, no sorrow, no remorse. Just pity, regular plain old pity...

Releasing a helpless sigh, I shook my head and rose carefully to my feet, turning to walk out of the room. I'd feel sorry for myself later. I had work to do.

...This house wasn't going to raid itself.

...

I'm so sorry guys. Wanted to post the chaps yesterday like I said but I had some Internet difficulties so I couldn't. So today, you're getting three chaps. Two for yesterday and one for today. Hope you forgive me and please keep the stones rolling.