Advance by Michael Anderle & Joshua Anderle

Author:Michael Anderle & Joshua Anderle [Anderle, Michael & Anderle, Joshua]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LMBPN Publishing
Published: 2018-12-13T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

He perched on a ledge to the far right of the hangar. The dome wasn’t as accommodating as some of the other squats he had stayed in. There weren’t many ways to traverse the building—a few catwalks and a half-finished upper level. The few system ducts there were too small for him to crawl through, something he had noticed more and more throughout his misadventures. For a moment, he wondered if it was his gear or his girth. He slid a hand down the smooth path of his chest and stomach and snapped his teeth a couple of times before he opened them in a toothsome smile.

Nah, he was fine. You had to keep lean when your sport of choice could be so adaptable.

He watched as the party began to walk slowly around the edges of the hangar and kept a watchful eye on the shriekers. The door they had entered through wouldn’t hold for long. It might have been made of sturdy stuff, but naga venom would eventually melt through it all the same—that is if they didn’t simply sink their teeth into the metal and rip it from its frame. The nagas were tenacious and watching them hunt the shriekers and other mutants that had found refuge in the dome over the last couple of days had been a delight. He admired the way they coiled around their prey or attacked with quick, nearly silent bites. For such large creatures, they could be incredibly stealthy, just as they could be incredibly fearsome. The first time he saw one unhinge its jaw and swallow a whole echibara in one quick snap had been glorious.

They seemed to eat much more than their unmutated counterparts. The mutants always seemed to buck nature’s role for them—or perhaps their previous role. They weren’t quite right in the head, those freaks.

He took a moment to ponder whether he was a mutant and conceded that he hadn’t run across too many others like him. Maybe a handful—six or seven—but the times that he had were certainly memorable. Their fill of lager and meat, chicks for a good time, moderate slaughter—these were almost mini-vacations from his personal journey, times when he didn’t feel the need to kill, merely the desire.

Ah, dear Magellan. He focused on the bounty hunter. It was often said that a rivalry could feel like a warped friendship at some point and he’d begun to believe that a few months before. Magellan was the only constant in his life. They had conversations, and they met up at regular intervals and discussed the finer points of their respective careers. True, this was usually when he tried to rip the bounty hunter’s throat out while Magellan attempted to blast holes in him. He’d succeeded at least a couple times, he conceded as he traced his bionic leg with his bionic arm, but it was all a part of the spirit of their little meet-ups.

He cast his doubts from his mind. He wasn’t a mutant, merely spirited, unlike those bastards in the Star Killers.

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