07-24-2021, 02:43 PM
Unlike her companion who hunted gods, Grym was at home underground. Monsters kept to the dark, and their stalker went to them. Hives, hordes, swarms; anywhere the predators waited. It was one reason she masqueraded as a Bone Black technician, not just because her base was housed in an abandoned factory, but because she was almost always filthy.
Grym was older than her newfound friend, which was a strange title to assign Zef. She never really thought of herself as having friends: comrades, partners, or lovers, sure, but a friend was an oddity. Between being of a ‘didn’t give a fuck’ forties and relaxation underground, Grym walked without a weapon at the ready. Sure, it was pretty weird to hunt a god underground, but there could be multiple reasons one escaped down here. Not only were they batshit crazy, insanity took gods the longer they survived attempting to control their inhuman powers, but society was rejecting them. Homeless camps were a great place to evade capture.
That isn’t to say she was without ready. Her favorite double-sided battle axe was strapped to in its back holster. She wore body armor but wasn’t sure it would provide much protection against a distant adversary. Close and personal fights with monsters kept her torso from being slashed to meat, but a god? Better safe than sorry. A 9mm standard pistol was holstered on one leg and draped around her chest was the strap for a beefier 9mm SMG. She looked like she was walking into war, and her muscular frame suggested this wasn’t her first one.
Like Zef, she was in need of some light, but with the flashlights, she kept her land warriors disabled for dark vision. Even the system controls for her pair of personal attack drones were in hidden mode. The tension between Jerry and Zef was palpable, although Grym wasn’t entirely sure why other than Atharim-general mistrust of everyone else. A team hunt never went well if the team couldn’t work together.
It started with the rock kick. Grym rolled her eyes in the dark. It was like the antagonizing was intentional. Moments later, the change in air pressure tickled the back of her neck. She tensed just as a shape materialized in the light. It was a man.
The confrontation lasted the blink of an eye, but Grym remained rooted to her place, poised to strike. Everyone seemed on razor’s edge, and the situation could turn bloody any moment. This was the god Jerry hunted? And he knew they were coming?
“Traitor,” Grym hissed under her breath, but survival instincts kept her from lashing out with more than her tongue. Despite lacking the use of lethal force, Grym did not desire to end up a floating log like Zef.
Her heart was beating with that familiar drum in her chest, and she followed like an unwilling prisoner. She could turn and run back the way they came, but that would all but seal Zef’s fate.
Then a whole group of men came into view.
Grym was older than her newfound friend, which was a strange title to assign Zef. She never really thought of herself as having friends: comrades, partners, or lovers, sure, but a friend was an oddity. Between being of a ‘didn’t give a fuck’ forties and relaxation underground, Grym walked without a weapon at the ready. Sure, it was pretty weird to hunt a god underground, but there could be multiple reasons one escaped down here. Not only were they batshit crazy, insanity took gods the longer they survived attempting to control their inhuman powers, but society was rejecting them. Homeless camps were a great place to evade capture.
That isn’t to say she was without ready. Her favorite double-sided battle axe was strapped to in its back holster. She wore body armor but wasn’t sure it would provide much protection against a distant adversary. Close and personal fights with monsters kept her torso from being slashed to meat, but a god? Better safe than sorry. A 9mm standard pistol was holstered on one leg and draped around her chest was the strap for a beefier 9mm SMG. She looked like she was walking into war, and her muscular frame suggested this wasn’t her first one.
Like Zef, she was in need of some light, but with the flashlights, she kept her land warriors disabled for dark vision. Even the system controls for her pair of personal attack drones were in hidden mode. The tension between Jerry and Zef was palpable, although Grym wasn’t entirely sure why other than Atharim-general mistrust of everyone else. A team hunt never went well if the team couldn’t work together.
It started with the rock kick. Grym rolled her eyes in the dark. It was like the antagonizing was intentional. Moments later, the change in air pressure tickled the back of her neck. She tensed just as a shape materialized in the light. It was a man.
The confrontation lasted the blink of an eye, but Grym remained rooted to her place, poised to strike. Everyone seemed on razor’s edge, and the situation could turn bloody any moment. This was the god Jerry hunted? And he knew they were coming?
“Traitor,” Grym hissed under her breath, but survival instincts kept her from lashing out with more than her tongue. Despite lacking the use of lethal force, Grym did not desire to end up a floating log like Zef.
Her heart was beating with that familiar drum in her chest, and she followed like an unwilling prisoner. She could turn and run back the way they came, but that would all but seal Zef’s fate.
Then a whole group of men came into view.
‡‡ GRYM ‡‡