[Moosh da Outlaw]

That most sincerely creeped me out of my skin. I can wait though.
I love Monty Python too but that's a movie not a skit. Monty Python and The Holy Grail.

I only saw a part of that movie. Maybe thats why I thought it was a skit. It was damn funny though. xD

Good chapter. Love the picture (maybe you should add some blood driping from his severed hand? Or would that be too graphic?)

Well I kind of just wanted it to be a reference, not an actual scene, so I didn't add any blood. Plus its supposed to look like he has stitches there, not just a bloody stump.



----



Spears of pain spread over Nedd’s arm like wildfire. He screamed in agony and fell back into the hallway, cradling his severed limb against his chest. His head pounded as he felt warm blood stream down his arm, softly dripping against the floor and staining the ground red. Nedd looked up slowly. He could see the metal door, standing broken but strong, just barely protecting the vykkers from a slow and agonizing death.

“SON OF A BITCH!” Nedd screamed suddenly, flinging himself against the door. His good hand raked the air as he struggled to fit himself through the wide gash in the door, but to no avail; his legs were too wide. “LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!”

Helix shrank away from the door, horror in his beady little eyes. “You g-gave me no choice---”

“YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! OPEN THIS ODD-DAMN DOOR SO I CAN KILL YOU!”

Nedd jumped back from the door, panting, and sprang at it again, making slightly more ground. The vykkers quailed like cornered meep and held their breaths anxiously. Nedd roared and swung his heavy, paw-like hand forward, just inches out of reach of Helix’s face. His eyes watered as another jolt of excruciating pain flickered up his arm, and he felt dizzy from blood loss. ‘I have to get out of here.’ He realized.

He fell back from the door and crouched nearby. He held his arm close to his chest as he looked side to side, his mind clouded from the torture in his arm that was tearing him apart. Nedd got up and stalked warily down the hall, leaving the terrified vykkers behind. ‘If I ever see that vykker again, I swear to odd I’ll hang him by his own entrails and---’

His thought was cut short. Voices erupted from around the corner; “This way! Quickly! Quickly! Durc’s in trouble!”

Guards.
‘Aw shit.’

Nedd looked around wildly for somewhere to hide; a closet, a staircase, an elevator, anything, but to no success. He was royally screwed.
Nedd bared his teeth and ducked down into a pouncing position, his bloodshot eyes swiveling in the dark. He wasn’t about to let those trigger-happy assholes catch him without a fight.

<~{.epidemic.}~>

Dan was on patrol.

To any other person, those words would mean little, but to Dan they meant nothing but torment. Because, specifically, he was on patrol in the mortuary: a small, miserable room on the first floor of the ship where the vykkers stored dead experiments, and sometimes even dead workers. The room was nearly pitch black, lit only by the guard’s flashlights, and freezing cold. Freezers lined the walls all the way up to the ceiling, packed to the brim with dead bodies, some of which had been in there for years. Dan found it to be extremely creepy, but he made sure not to show his discomfort.

Daaaaan... An almost-ghostly voice hummed behind him.

Dan didn’t even look.

I’m coming to kill you, Dan...

Would you cut it out? Dan snapped, rounding on Ian. Ian frowned.

What’s the point in being in a room packed with dead bodies if you can’t even scare people? He demanded.

Dan rolled his eyes and looked away, the side of his head pounding slightly. He had a small strip of gauze wrapped around the stump that was once his left horn. Ever since their attempted attack on Nedd Dan had been extremely moody, and a little depressed. He desperately wished that everything could go back to the way things were before, but he wasn’t granted such luxury.

A slig with a silver badge stomped into the room. The small squad of guards looked over with interest; anything as simple as a new face after endless hours of ‘guarding’ the same room was a welcome sight.

“Just got a call from Durc,” the slig said in his rough naval voice, loading his gun. “He needs us ta go over to room 34 on the second floor and deal with some problem he’s got, or something.”

“What problem?” Somebody asked suspiciously. The slig scratched his head.

“He said he ran into some trouble,” he began, “I passed another patrol on the way who got a separate transmission from him. Said it was that maniac everybody’s been freaking out about.”

‘Hell no!’ Dan thought. The last thing he wanted to do was to mess with Nedd.

“Might’ve just been a rumor though. Anyway. Lets hurry this up, I wanna get this over with.”

They shuffled quickly out of the room, leaving the gloom and the dead bodies far behind. Dan was glad to finally be somewhere a little warmer. They hurried up a flight of stairs, snuzis’ in hand, though nobody seemed to be taking their task seriously. This made Dan feel anxious and arthritic. If they weren’t scared, why was he?

The patrol group quieted down once they reached the second floor. They took deliberately wary steps, careful to avoid making a sound. The slig in front (Dan had no idea who he was, but figured he must have been important: after all, he was wearing a badge) motioned for them to follow. They stepped slowly around the corner, pointing their flashlights from side to side. The hallway appeared to be deserted.

“Be careful,” the slig cautioned as they continued down the hall, “we weren’t the only guards sent down here. Look before you shoot.”

Dan looked over at a nearby door. It had the number ‘112' painted on it. ‘112?’ Dan thought critically. ‘Just how many rooms are on this floor?’ They moved dilatorily onwards, making little ground. The sneaking around seemed pointless; but, should they run into Nedd, it could prove vital. The less time it took for him to discover the group, the better.

Somebody was screaming!

The squad flung their backs to the walls, their breathing heavy with fear. Down one of the halls they could hear the frenzied, terror-stricken cries of some unfortunate soul. The shrill calls grew louder until they formed words, and sent chills down Dan’s spine.
“HELP ME!” The voice cried; it sounded like a slig. “OH ODD, SOMEBODY, HELP---”

A twang, a splash, and the voice stopped abruptly. The sounds of the fear-stricken squads’ breathing broke the following silence. The slig gestured urgently for the group to follow, and they made quick progress down the hall, horror in their eyes. Nobody said a word. It was like a bizarre, convoluted curse; they talk, they died.

They stepped around the corner. The slig in front jerked back with a startled gag, and the group ground to a halt, appalled.

There was blood everywhere.

On the floor, against the walls, even splattered on the ceiling. Dan could see hand prints in gore smeared against doors, glistening incisively in the flashlight’s glow.

“Oh odd.” The lead slig choked, one hand over his face tentacles. He looked as though he might throw up.

Dan tried to speak, but no sound came. He had no idea how long they stood there; seconds, maybe even hours, just staring. He eventually forced himself to look away.

“Lets get out of here.” The slig said, marching off. The group forced their legs into motion, occasionally looking back over their shoulders at the massacre. The slig fumbled with his walkie-talkie. “I’ll radio in for a lockdown,” he said. “It’ll warn the ship. We need everybody to get in their rooms and hide...” He trailed off. The group listened expectantly, but he had nothing to say except; “did you hear that?”

Dan stiffened. He could hear it clearly. Rough, throaty breathing. A few muffled curses. A crinkly sound, like lips smacking. The lead slig stepped forward tentatively, pointing his gun from side to side.

“Show yourself!” He demanded.

The slig’s command was answered, but not in the way he would have hoped.

A dark shape tore itself from the shadows and pinned the slig to the ground. Its long, needle-sharp teeth snapped his spine like a toothpick, and its dark red eye pivoted wildly. Shots were fired. Threats were shouted. None of which even scraped the surface of the damage Nedd could cause.

GET BACK! Dan roared at his group. WE HAVE TO RETREAT! They didn’t listen; in fact, they even had the nerve to get closer to their worst nightmare.

Nedd sprang forward with catlike agility, grabbed an intern in a violent embrace, and jerked his arms back. The intern didn’t even get to scream. The limp body fell to the ground, bones shattered like glass.

HEY! Red taunted, taking aim. Nedd swung around. OVER HERE, JACKASS!

Nedd jumped over dangerously, claws unsheathed, toothy mouth flashing. Red’s finger pulled against the snuzi’s trigger. It would’ve been an amazing, one-hit-kill if Nedd hadn’t banked to the side and took off down the hallway like a volkswagen.

“Get ‘im!” Somebody shouted as they followed in close pursuit. Dan found this to be strange. Usually, Nedd had no problem dismembering a squad as small as theirs; Dan wondered what could have possibly urged him to flee.

He’s one fast son of a bitch, Ian gasped as he struggled to keep up. His stamina wasn’t the best.

Nedd literally jumped straight down a staircase, spilling blood against the steps. Realization struck. ‘Of course,’ Dan thought. ‘He’s injured; why else would he be running away?’
The wild goose chase seemed to be fruitless; Nedd was outrunning them, and if it weren’t for his injury, he’d probably would have been long gone. Eventually he came to the main intersection on the first floor, and Dan nearly threw a fit.

The basement! He cried. Don’t let him into the basement!

Nedd made a mad dash for the basement door. Dan fired a desperate shot with his snuzi. The bullet struck the floor at Nedd’s feet, Nedd skidded back in alarm, and he tripped over the metal cart with the ugly black lock that had been keeping the basement shut. The box shattered to the ground. The squad fired their weapons like maniacs, and bullets screeched through the air with deafening volume. Nedd snarled, flashing his broad, sharp jaws, and cut through a slig with his claws, decapitating him. Nedd’s pupils dilated so broadly that they nearly blotted out the rest of his eyes; Odd only knew how good his night-vision was now.

He darted down a hall at random, taking on a sudden burst of speed, and vanished from sight. Dan whipped out his walkie-talkie.

Can you hear me? He called urgently. This is Mortuary Patrol to Cafeteria Patrol, target is heading your way, can you hear me? Dan turned to his group. They’re not answering!

Those assholes, Red snarled, loading his snuzi. He cocked it roughly. What should we do?

They looked at Dan expectantly. Dan blinked. ‘Who elected me leader all of the sudden?’

We should... Dan said slowly, ...chase him?

“Works for me.” someone said. They took off running down the hall, herding Nedd towards the cafeteria, where hopefully (somebody sober) could finish him off.

<~{.epidemic.}~>

The basement door opened slightly. A little pink snout forced itself through the thin gap. Its wide nostrils flared as it inhaled a large breath of air, and shuddered as it released it.

Lady trotted out of the basement, panting liesurely. She looked around in a ‘where did everyone go?’ sort-of-way. Two more slogs followed behind, curious, and after a mere minute dozens of slogs had flocked to the basement door. Never before had they seen the wild world outside the basement’s walls. Their tounges rolled as they loped around in little packs, eager to explore. Finally they wandered down the many halls and corridors of the main intersection, their hips wagging.

It was the perfect time for a midnight snack.