Disgruntled part 2

By spurged

You groaned as you flopped the wayward officer down into the passenger seat, the arrow that was jutting out her hip causing her to hiss loudly in pain. You couldn’t help but grimace at it, you had seen similar during the war and even had firsthand experience in how unpleasant it was. Better than being shot, but not by much. You made your way around and threw yourself down into the driver seat next to her.

“It hurts,” she whimpered, clutching at you as she refused to let go; something that nearly tugged at your heart as you mechanically began peeling her clawed hands off of you. How much was legitimate pain from the wound or her Mamono instincts kicking in? You couldn’t know. Admittedly you were surprised, you had never seen such a small Amazon before; not that she wasn’t obviously muscular, but you had never seen one below six foot.

“It’s bad, but not that bad,” you mumbled out, trying not to chuckle. The memory of Jody getting an arrow in the ass suddenly rocketing to the forefront of your mind, he never shut up about catching that arrow for the entire damn war. “It’ll make a pretty scar.” Her only response was to groan as she clutched gently at the spot, a rather small amount of blood pooling out of her uniform and onto her hands.

“At least we can call for backup,” She murmured, trying to shift in the seat. Somewhere nearby you could hear one of the orderite bastards mewling out in pain. “Kind of lucky that you were here and all..,” She trailed off as she eyed you, confusion beginning to bloom across her face as she continued to study you. “What… what precinct are you with?”

“I’m not.”

“W-well where did you get demon silver rounds for that dinosa-”

“I didn’t.”

You did understand the obsession they had with demon-silver. It honestly was a big deal. But in the same vein of honesty, there often times people you deserved to suffer the pain of real buckshot in their ass, or worse. Sometimes ‘mercy’ and rehabilitation were a mistake. It was a problem with human nature that most Mamono didn’t seem to fully grasp, some of humanity could only pretend to be civil if there was some kind of punishment or horrific consequence involved. And the Maou and her government goons with their demon-silver weren’t scary enough anymore.

The Amazon went pale, where before she was a touch panicked and skittish, now there was genuine fear. Her eyes locked to the console, the radio and its squawk box in particular. You couldn’t help but grin a bit as you reached out slowly and grabbed at the radio, pulling it from it’s console stand; her eyes now locked to your hand.

“Tell me your call signs.” you demanded softly, eyeing her across from you as your free hand went out and shut the driverside door.

“I- I shouldn’t,”

“You’re bleeding out, and until a moment ago we were going to go to a hospital.” Her eyes snapped to your face, a more substantial kind of fear filling them. Her wound wasn’t that bad, but she honestly didn’t need to know. Letting the beat cop get worked up and anxious was something you could live with, especially if it got you one step closer to your self-destructive needs. “Maybe I should just leav-”

“No.” You were honestly surprised by the tone of it, the flat and forceful demand of the single word. Clearly she knew what she wanted.


You had no idea what the hell you were doing, but midway on the trip to the hospital there had been a call in and only your borrowed squad car was nearby. She had been insistent, demanding even; so you had complied and made the slight detour. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t given you the codes, she had, and if anything all of this was a further excuse to shoot some bad people. They deserved it and fate seemed to agree, why else were you happily in the right place at the right time with whiskey coursing through your veins?

As you pulled up towards the parking lot, your hands deftly switched off the headlights as you snatched the radio from the console. Your eyes found hers in the dark as the two of you shared a look, her’s carrying worry and unsureness in them. You clearly weren’t operating like a cop, and now on arriving, she was likely rethinking what she had demanded of you. The reality of setting a hunting predator loose making her think twice.

“M-maybe this isn-”

“It’s too late. I’m here.” you stated flatly as you let the car drift slowly into an open space in front of the store before placing the vehicle into park. “forty-three… that’s a robbery, right?”

All you got was a worried nod and you let out a snort, before turning off the engine and pulling the keys. Had to make sure she didn’t take off, you needed the vehicle. Her eyes seemed to carry a certain amount of concern and worry, one that seemed to be more than just for herself and her current predicament.

“J-just… Don’t kill anyone.” her tone was low and soft, almost pleading. All you could do was frown in response. Who or what did she seem to think you were? Sure you were on a rampage, but you weren’t a monster, just a solider on a crusade and just like during the war: whatever happens, would happen. If they died, they died.

“No promises.” you murmured, before setting off to enter the grocery store as your old boots padded silently as you quickly began to duck-walk in, breaching tool in hand. The soft buzz of overhead fluorescents caught your attention as you slowly ambled in, hunched down low.

Your eyes danced about, scanning and looking for anything and everything you could. Immediately they locked with curious eyes that stared back into yours, soft teals stared into your eyes from the face of a small, terrified Inari next to what could only be her mother. And in that instant, the sound of low drawn out screaming filled your head, one you didn’t hear with your ears.

Your eyes locked with Jody’s and the two of you shared a knowing look. The others were still sleeping, not that it mattered; all that mattered was the dumb asshole screaming off in the distance and occasionally calling out names. Calling and screaming for anyone to come help him, that his legs were broken and that he needed help, that he didn’t want to die; the whole nine yards. Your squad had been forced to bed down in the blown out building, and now here on the roof you were slowly beginning to lose it as you had to listen to this guy moaning and moping about his damn legs. No one came for you after the first four hours, who did the asshole think was going to show up after the ninth hour?

“Don’t do it man,” Jody warned as you began quickly checking over your rifle. It was loaded, ready, and the barrel was clear. You shot an angry look at your squadmate.

“We should put him out of his misery already, it’s been… what? Nearly ten hours?” Being an angel of mercy to end his suffering was the least of your thoughts. You just wanted to return to the perfect and peaceful dead silent sound of an inactive warzone. Maybe sleep if you could.

“We both know he’s bait Sarge,” the Private pleaded, “They’ll get pissed if we do anything.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you knew it. The poor, dumb bastard was bait. The enemy wanted that some or even just one of you to head down there to recover him, and they’d they take you. God only knew why the aliens were capturing and absconding with people. Miller claimed they ate people, part of you hoped that that was the worst that it could be. Or maybe not, maybe he was just an unlucky shithead you got left behind with broken legs and the enemy wasn’t anywhere near.

But you couldn’t continue with this, and what would happen to Mr. Bait once it became clear that you were warier prey than that? If anything they’d likely put him down themselves. He was an enemy and a waste of resources, and this was war. Might as well do the responsible and kind thing.

“I’m lead.” you murmured as you leveled the gun, shifting and sliding along the roof as you propped the barrel over the edge of the building’s wall.

“El-te is gonna fucki-”

“El-te aint here.” You grumbled back at him in a whisper, “He got taken by one of those scaly bird ones. If anything he’s dead.”

“We don’t know that Sarge, he could be a-”

“I’m trying to keep us alive, I’m in charge. I got us this far, I will get us to the end but only if we work together; you know that.” He deflated a touch, looking conflicted about what was about to transpire. Who wouldn’t be? You were about to shoot a man for the crime of having broken legs, a reality of war that most of the newbies didn’t sign up for. “We have to do this.”

“Right just… make it quick.” he spat back in a whisper.

Slowly you glanced over your sights, lining up in the distance to what you could only assume was the source of the noise. A lump out in the dark distance you could barely make out, but it moved occasionally. You breathed out, trying to steady yourself and not think about what you were about to do as your finger pulled on the trigger. You had to keep your men safe, it was your responsibility; they were relying on you. And you were on your own in this regard. Did you actually have a choice?

Your fists ached, your knuckles were ripped and raw, and a Mamono-era gangbanger was crumpled beneath you and covered in his own blood. The bait had stopped screaming and calling out in your head, not that you didn’t know exactly what you had been up to for the last few minutes. Something had snapped in you, and you had popped up from your duck walk. In less than a second you had spotted him properly, a bronze dagger in hand, likely made of reclaimed copper from old pipes and electronics, as he went scrounging through a checkers-till. You were on him and for the last few minutes, had been beating him senseless. Blood painting the linoleum floor around him which was speckled with a few teeth he had managed to spit out.

They called themselves ‘demon-lords’ and they thought themselves something special and sharp with their facial tattoos and reputation for using either medieval styled weapons or magic. They weren’t though, they were just punks and petty thieves who caused far more trouble than they were worth. Just like the Order fuckers, they were scum and they need to be punished for it; something none of the Mamono who now ruled seemed to have the stomach to do. Just make an example of a few of these shits and it’d all calm down for once.

Inside you, you couldn’t help but approve of the sensations you were feeling as you stared down at the waste of skin. This was right. This was just. And best of all, someone had finally done something about the mess of a society that was cropping up.

He groaned out a pained and rather lonely sound and you couldn’t help the drunken smirk that played out on your face. Quickly you stood, surveying the area, though you were more or less certain he was by himself. Without even bothering with anything else, proceeded to leave.

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