✂ 8)
Send me ‘✂’ and my muse will kill yours. // Closed
It was far from the first time the Lone Wanderer had encountered humanoid beasts out in the wasteland. It was, however, the first timehe’d come upon one cannibalizing a human being. A raider, perhaps, but a humanbeing none the less. He observed the creature from behind the safety of abuilding, loading his shotgun full of shells, eager to kill the creature andput it out of its misery. It clearly had some degree of sapience or it wouldn’thave sat the way it did, or eaten the way it did, or periodically glanced aroundas though self-conscious; it seemed to be aware of what it was, and it didn’t deserve to live on like that.
He initiated a stealth boy before beginning his approach. Hevault suit, skin-tight as it was, enabled him to cross the street in completesilence. Once close enough, he raised the barrel of his gun, pointing it at theback of the creatures head, and pulled the trigger.
It fell with a great, pained roar and threw its massive hands up to theshattered part of its scalp, withering around on the floor.
“Gh- why- hurting!”
Lone quickly aimed the gun at its head again, pulling thetrigger. And when it continued to wither and howl, babbling exclamations ofpain and horror, he did it again. And then once more.
On the third attack, it finally ceased moving, its mutilated head lolling to the side,dark eyes wide and glassy.
Lone didn’t realizing his hands were shaking until he'd thrownhis gun back over his shoulder. He was fairly desensitized by death, havingkilled hundreds – perhaps even thousands of human and humanoid hostiles, butthey usually died fast. That had not been fast. It’d been slow and excruciatingly painful –what a horrible way to die.
