02-29-2016, 02:26 AM
In highschool we were forced to read “The Things they Carried” by Tim O’Brien. It was apparently one of the preeminent pieces of literature on the Vietnam war. At the time I saw it nothing more than another assignment, a boring assignment at that. It took almost two decades of warfare for me to realize how important the tools we soldiers carry. From the rucksack strapped to my back to the heft flak cannon carried in my arms everything that I carried was near and dear to me. Without those precious items, the essential equipment that a soldier carried, he was useless. Here in the Underverse the things that you carried defined you, they kept you alive and safe.
Now let me tell you about Dedan. The red-skinned prick was some kind of bastard mix of man, bat, and lizard. That pernicious leather-winged asshole was the sole member of my Underverse welcoming committee. His home was made within these red-rock spires, he was one of the few creatures that could inhale the caustic smog belched from their vents. A gnawing hatred for mankind burned in Dedan’s heart, and it made me an irresistible target. Fortunately the human side of the scaly demon made him arrogant and foolish. Rather than swooping down from his eagle’s nest he announced his presence.
“Human!” he shouted from high above, “up here human!”
My eyes drifted upwards, catching sight of the bat-winged demon. He sat perched upon the precipice of a red-rock pillar. Those red coals burned in his eye sockets and my every movement was tracked by those smoldering orbs. My throat filled with sand and a twinge of fear raced through my spine. Fear had no place in my heart, but the Underverse had a way of rattling even the most stalwart of men. Dedan leaned from his perch, gripping the edge of the pillar with his long wiry fingers. His flesh was covered in red-scales and two leathery wings stretched from his back.
“What is your name human?” he shouted, shuffling along the edge of the pillar.
“When asking for one’s name it’s considered polite to offer your own” I responded, taking a step forward.
Dedan hissed, revealing a forked tongue, “I don’t have to offer anything to you human.”
“Well then get lost,” I snapped.
Prison is a helluva place, honestly I recommend that everyone spends at least a year or so in a big city prison. The real seedy kind of prison where the rapists and murderers are sent. You learn to become self reliant real fucking fast in a prison like that. You learn the way of the world, only the strongest survive. Charles Darwin would be proud of that kind of prison. Needless to say I did real well in that environment, became a sort of enforcer for the kingpins. If you get sent to prison the first thing you gotta do is pick a fight, don’t matter if you’re a fighter or not, you have to pick a fight. It shows people that you aren’t scared, it shows ‘em that you’ll scrap with anyone that so much as looks at you funny.
Fight or die, there isn’t a third option.
So that’s what I was going for with old Dedan here, picking a fight with the angry cuss would hopefully announce that I was not one to be fucked with. Without another word his wings spread to their full length and he left his perch. The demon soared high into the ash-filled sky and circled overhead like a vulture waiting for carrion. Then like a diving swan his wings folded in upon themselves and he began to drop like a lawn dart. When put against a charging bull your first instinct is to dive out of the way. The way I see it, that’s when they are the most vulnerable, that’s when they let you strike at them. Poor Dedan never stood a chance, I leveled my weapon at the incoming dive-bomb and let loose a roaring blast of hot metal scraps.
The flak cannon works similarly to a shotgun, blanketing an area in metallic death. It didn’t run on ammunition, at least not the same way as a conventional firearm. Within the core of the weapon was a nano-fabricator, a very basic one. Metal is fed into the loading port and the fabricator breaks it down into smaller components. The scrap is then stored within the cannon itself and is used as the projectile, expelling a wall of hot scrap. Needless to say this weapon is ridiculously heavy and unwieldy, only a small amount of people can effectively utilize this beast of engineering. Unfortunately for Dedan, I’m one of the few actually capable of bringing the flak cannon to bare.
Dedan crumpled against the earth, broken and filled with lead. My boots smacked against the dry cracked earth as I stalked towards my fallen foe. His wounds sizzled and began to close, but his body was still too maimed to fight. With deliberate movements I flipped him onto his back and pressed the still-hot barrel against his bare chest.
“Release me human!” he hissed and thrashed.
“Quiet!” I demanded, putting pressure against his ribcage, “you’re going to answer some questions for me, and I might let you live. Got it?”
“Fine.”
“Now, let’s get introductions out of the way,” I sneered, “you can call me Cicada, what can I call you?”
“Dedan,” he growled.
Now let me tell you about Dedan. The red-skinned prick was some kind of bastard mix of man, bat, and lizard. That pernicious leather-winged asshole was the sole member of my Underverse welcoming committee. His home was made within these red-rock spires, he was one of the few creatures that could inhale the caustic smog belched from their vents. A gnawing hatred for mankind burned in Dedan’s heart, and it made me an irresistible target. Fortunately the human side of the scaly demon made him arrogant and foolish. Rather than swooping down from his eagle’s nest he announced his presence.
“Human!” he shouted from high above, “up here human!”
My eyes drifted upwards, catching sight of the bat-winged demon. He sat perched upon the precipice of a red-rock pillar. Those red coals burned in his eye sockets and my every movement was tracked by those smoldering orbs. My throat filled with sand and a twinge of fear raced through my spine. Fear had no place in my heart, but the Underverse had a way of rattling even the most stalwart of men. Dedan leaned from his perch, gripping the edge of the pillar with his long wiry fingers. His flesh was covered in red-scales and two leathery wings stretched from his back.
“What is your name human?” he shouted, shuffling along the edge of the pillar.
“When asking for one’s name it’s considered polite to offer your own” I responded, taking a step forward.
Dedan hissed, revealing a forked tongue, “I don’t have to offer anything to you human.”
“Well then get lost,” I snapped.
Prison is a helluva place, honestly I recommend that everyone spends at least a year or so in a big city prison. The real seedy kind of prison where the rapists and murderers are sent. You learn to become self reliant real fucking fast in a prison like that. You learn the way of the world, only the strongest survive. Charles Darwin would be proud of that kind of prison. Needless to say I did real well in that environment, became a sort of enforcer for the kingpins. If you get sent to prison the first thing you gotta do is pick a fight, don’t matter if you’re a fighter or not, you have to pick a fight. It shows people that you aren’t scared, it shows ‘em that you’ll scrap with anyone that so much as looks at you funny.
Fight or die, there isn’t a third option.
So that’s what I was going for with old Dedan here, picking a fight with the angry cuss would hopefully announce that I was not one to be fucked with. Without another word his wings spread to their full length and he left his perch. The demon soared high into the ash-filled sky and circled overhead like a vulture waiting for carrion. Then like a diving swan his wings folded in upon themselves and he began to drop like a lawn dart. When put against a charging bull your first instinct is to dive out of the way. The way I see it, that’s when they are the most vulnerable, that’s when they let you strike at them. Poor Dedan never stood a chance, I leveled my weapon at the incoming dive-bomb and let loose a roaring blast of hot metal scraps.
The flak cannon works similarly to a shotgun, blanketing an area in metallic death. It didn’t run on ammunition, at least not the same way as a conventional firearm. Within the core of the weapon was a nano-fabricator, a very basic one. Metal is fed into the loading port and the fabricator breaks it down into smaller components. The scrap is then stored within the cannon itself and is used as the projectile, expelling a wall of hot scrap. Needless to say this weapon is ridiculously heavy and unwieldy, only a small amount of people can effectively utilize this beast of engineering. Unfortunately for Dedan, I’m one of the few actually capable of bringing the flak cannon to bare.
Dedan crumpled against the earth, broken and filled with lead. My boots smacked against the dry cracked earth as I stalked towards my fallen foe. His wounds sizzled and began to close, but his body was still too maimed to fight. With deliberate movements I flipped him onto his back and pressed the still-hot barrel against his bare chest.
“Release me human!” he hissed and thrashed.
“Quiet!” I demanded, putting pressure against his ribcage, “you’re going to answer some questions for me, and I might let you live. Got it?”
“Fine.”
“Now, let’s get introductions out of the way,” I sneered, “you can call me Cicada, what can I call you?”
“Dedan,” he growled.