11-12-2017, 11:21 PM
Where to now? That little chase had put him in the middle of the Nexus again. He could follow the carnage back to his original choice, but who knows how that would end up? With this new found weakness, the once feared Codename Zeus was not quite ready to take on an entire gang. He had survived a few with a number of painful bullet wounds, but ten? Twenty? It was just better to pick a different gate.
He collected the least brutalized of the bikes. The lower half of the previous owner was still in the seat, leg pinned beneath the engine. Mercer could spell the burning of denim and flesh, like sickly pork. Returning his hands to normal, the Prototype lifted the bike with relative ease, bringing it back upright with the half corpse in a pile on the ground.
As he sat, blood staining the seat of his denim, he peered down at the legs. The man shrugged. Snack for the road. Leaning down he grabs the ankle and with a swift jerk, the half-corpse was tossed up. Even as he adjusted the mirror, the legs are captured mid-fall with thick, brackish tendrils sprouting from his back. Like before, the flesh and bone and even the clothing were broken down and absorbed. Mercer revved the engine, then peeled out, the digesting body dragged through the air behind him.
The ride this time was quite comfortable. Bullet holes were slowly patched, tendrils of his dark mass even mending his clothing over time. The engine still drowned out the sound of his heart. It was still so strange. He felt more alive than he had in a long time. Something here made him more conscious of it, or maybe it was something about his last few memories. Even as he rode through the white abyss, leaving a faint streak of red in his wake, his mind wondered to just how he had come here.
The approaching gate became more and more difficult to ignore, finally breaking his thoughts. He slowed from full throttle, eyeing the mysterious gate in great detail. It seemed to have a darkness beyond it. After having adjusted to this ungodly pure world, the darkness would surely leave him blind. He would accept the blindness.
Mercer felt the loss of the shotgun a bit. It would have been nice, to spray buckshot into the darkness as insurance before unwittingly driving into whatever was beyond. Alas, he had not thought to pick it up after that last quarrel. Fuck it. The engine roared back to full throttle. If he was going to rush into a potential trap, he might as well go all out.
If all of Blackwatch could not stop him, then what did he really have to fear? Mercer felt weakened, but no more than when he had first awoken in the morgue. All it would take is time, practice and resources…
He collected the least brutalized of the bikes. The lower half of the previous owner was still in the seat, leg pinned beneath the engine. Mercer could spell the burning of denim and flesh, like sickly pork. Returning his hands to normal, the Prototype lifted the bike with relative ease, bringing it back upright with the half corpse in a pile on the ground.
As he sat, blood staining the seat of his denim, he peered down at the legs. The man shrugged. Snack for the road. Leaning down he grabs the ankle and with a swift jerk, the half-corpse was tossed up. Even as he adjusted the mirror, the legs are captured mid-fall with thick, brackish tendrils sprouting from his back. Like before, the flesh and bone and even the clothing were broken down and absorbed. Mercer revved the engine, then peeled out, the digesting body dragged through the air behind him.
The ride this time was quite comfortable. Bullet holes were slowly patched, tendrils of his dark mass even mending his clothing over time. The engine still drowned out the sound of his heart. It was still so strange. He felt more alive than he had in a long time. Something here made him more conscious of it, or maybe it was something about his last few memories. Even as he rode through the white abyss, leaving a faint streak of red in his wake, his mind wondered to just how he had come here.
The approaching gate became more and more difficult to ignore, finally breaking his thoughts. He slowed from full throttle, eyeing the mysterious gate in great detail. It seemed to have a darkness beyond it. After having adjusted to this ungodly pure world, the darkness would surely leave him blind. He would accept the blindness.
Mercer felt the loss of the shotgun a bit. It would have been nice, to spray buckshot into the darkness as insurance before unwittingly driving into whatever was beyond. Alas, he had not thought to pick it up after that last quarrel. Fuck it. The engine roared back to full throttle. If he was going to rush into a potential trap, he might as well go all out.
If all of Blackwatch could not stop him, then what did he really have to fear? Mercer felt weakened, but no more than when he had first awoken in the morgue. All it would take is time, practice and resources…
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