Alabama’s teeth gritted together with so much pressure that his jaws could’ve broken, and he could no longer yield the demon that had chewed its way into his soul. As the monster tossed the Marine’s decapitated carcass back to the floor, it began to pivot in Alabama’s direction.
“BASTARD!!!” Alabama roared tumultuously and detestably, and the monster had just begun to hunker its hunchback shoulders and charge in his direction when several blood-ravenous, inhuman shrill-shrieks erupted from the darkness beyond it.
Hesitating, the demon suddenly peered into the void, clicking its gore-smeared mandibles before launching itself forward and onto the track, emitting a deep, guttural roar of bloodlust as it rampaged into the darkness, the sound of devastation commencing shortly afterwards, quickly dying into the shadows. Afterwards, Alabama could only lie motionlessly on a mountain of mutilated bodies, staring at the brutalized carcasses of an entire squad of his comrades; brothers-and-sisters-in-arms who had bled and died for him, succumbing to dogged wrath of the three-legged demoniac that had nullified them… To save him, they died.
Rage. Hate. War. The endless lust to rip his enemies into screaming shreds with his bare hands and pluck away their limbs in the same grisly fashion the three-legged demon had butchered his fellow Marines was his only urge. He wanted to plunge dick-deep into mounds of dissevered carcasses slain at his will, and to bathe in their entrails as the facility’s halls ran red with rivers of their blood. He wanted to gouge their eyes and vitiate the occipital cords. He wanted to eviscerate his enemies and feed them their own intestines. He wanted to endure endless pleasure in the comforting beat of his opposition’s disembodied hearts trapped in the palm of his hand. He wanted to collect their heads and spines. Alabama wanted to kill. To… KILL! KILL! KILL!
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Field of Heroes Page 25