[Moosh da Outlaw]

Wee! Another chapter so soon? Why yes!

I'm on a roll. I've really been inspired to write lately. Expect more chapters soon.


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Nedd ground to a halt.

His horns pivoted. His eye flickered momentarily.

Black. His eye was solid black; his pupil had practically dominated his iris. In his vision the room seemed to shudder, twisted into perpetual motion by his diseased brain. He no longer felt the screaming pain in his arm; only the immemorial, acute instinct to hunt, to kill or be killed.

He moved quietly down the desolated hall, his feet gently slapping the ground. His missing limb was swollen around the edges, and had stopped dripping blood; one rare perk of being a cylonite victim. He opened his ragged, abysm mouth and inhaled a throaty breath, testing the air.

“This way!” Somebody cried down the hall. Nedd swung around and hissed, eyes swiveling, before continuing hurriedly onwards.

He stopped in front of a large metal door, with the words ‘CAFETERIA’ painted on the front in huge orange letters. He hesitated. Wasn’t there supposed to be a patrol inside? He looked back worriedly over his shoulder; he could hear the sounds of people shouting much clearer now, and was beginning to see the glow of multiple flashlights. Nedd growled and forced open the door, dashing recklessly inside. Better to deal with a bunch of drunk guards than a bunch of sober ones.

At first glance, Nedd found the cafeteria to be otherwise empty. However, after a quick inspection, he realized that there was indeed a small patrol inside, most of which were passed out and snoring peacefully. Nedd crept speedily around the tables and chairs, his head down as to not get their attention, and slipped into the kitchens, grinning to himself.

The kitchens were just as he remembered; overly-festive and not exactly pleasing to the eye. He snorted and kicked open a door, ducking quickly inside. It was a pretty large room, packed with shelves containing bulk amounts of food and cooking equipment. He took it to be some sort of storage area. For the sake of not being shot and killed, Nedd hurried onwards, weaving through the labyrinth of stacked crates and barrels. He stopped.

In front of him was what looked like a huge metal garage door, held shut by a small padlock. Next to the grating was a small door that read ‘emergency exit,’ though it looked as though it had been inactive for years. Nedd shoved the rusted metal handle, and the door swung open. Harsh winds whipped his face. Cold night air blinded his eye. A light rain was falling, and the docks in front of him were covered in a thin layer of frost, frozen from harsh exposure to the elements.

‘Perfect.’

<~{.epidemic.}~>

Dan leaned against the cafeteria door, his snuzi cocked and loaded. He motioned for his squad to follow. They snuck quietly up to the door and pressed their backs against the walls, keeping deathly silent. Dan slowly opened the door and pointed his snuzi inside, scanning the room warily. Nedd was nowhere to be seen, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t inside.

Come on, he whispered, sneaking inside. They flared their snuzis from side to side as they entered the cafeteria in a tight procession, prepared for an attack from all angles. Dan stiffened; at first it seemed as though Nedd had killed the cafeteria patrol, but on closer examination he realized that they were just drunk. He frowned.

“Over here,” A slig whispered, gesturing with his gun. He pointed to the kitchen door. “Door’s open.”

They entered the kitchen. Everything seemed to be in order; the pans were hanging on nearby hooks, the drawers were closed. The only sign that anything had happened came from the broken refrigerator, which was wrapped in yellow police tape. They hadn’t got around to fixing it yet, unfortunately.

Dan opened the storeroom door and thrust his head inside. He shone his flashlight on the shelves and crates; the dramatic change in light forced everything into a different perspective, making things look eerie and distorted, like some sort of horror movie.

‘I hate my job.’

The patrol shuffled inside, shining their flashlights on anything and everything. After a lot of wandering around completely lost they came to a huge metal door that took up nearly an entire wall. Dan stared up at it. It was the loading bay. The loading bay was a large part of the ship that was attached to the kitchen storeroom; it was where all the crates packed with food and surgical supplies were loaded up and sent off to whoever had ordered them. The supplies came by small, balloon-like airships that docked on the ship’s wharf outside.

Red opened a small, damaged door to the right and peeked outside. Even though the door was open just a crack, the weather outside still hit them hard; the air was bitter and freezing, and chilled Dan instantly. Red frowned.

I don’t see him. He said, walking out onto the deck. The patrol followed watchfully behind, shivering in the cold. Maybe he didn’t go this way?

‘Famous last words,’ Dan thought bitterly, squinting against the raging, frigid air and lightly falling rain.

The wharf was impressive. It seemed to go on forever, stretching halfway around the ship, and lined with five-foot-high guardrails. The entire thing was made out of an extremely dark, slightly-yellowish metal that Dan couldn’t identify. A few airships were still docked at one end of the wharf, and the same ‘garage doors’ that they had seen earlier were up against one wall, clattering in the wind. The deck was layered with frost that had been dampened by the muggy air. The ship, Dan guessed, was passing through a rain cloud; it explained why the air was so wet and cold, and why it was so foggy even though they were high above the ground.

Dan tested the ground in front of him with his foot. It was extremely slippery, and Dan feared that he would have trouble walking. He took a few steps, faltered, and, after a great deal of arm-flailing, regained composure.

This is insane, He cursed under his breath, taking a few unsteady steps forward. The squad followed carefully behind, wincing as the rain kicked up again, harder than before. Somewhere, thunder sounded. As unsafe as it was to be out on a metal wharf during a rainstorm, Dan didn’t have a choice; he couldn’t let Nedd get away. If he did, it would make Durc hate him even more, and would be a major blow to his reputation.

The group crowded against the side of the ship; it created a wind break, and stopped the rain. Dan peeked around the corner, gun in hand, and shone his flashlight on the wet deck. Nedd was nowhere to be seen. Dan shone his light warily on the side of the wall, and looked up. It appeared short enough for Nedd to leap on to, but doing so during such harsh weather conditions would be suicidal. Even Nedd wouldn’t do that, would he?

“Look,” a slig whispered, pointing. Dan looked.
A shadow was stretched out across the ship, created by the glow of a light in a nearby window. The light was a soft blue. The shadow was tall even though it was hunched over, and was moving on long, powerful, clumsily-bent legs.

I’ll radio for backup, Red whispered quickly, pulling out his walkie-talkie. Dan wasn’t sure if they would get a signal out in the rain, but it was worth a try.

<~{.epidemic.}~>

Durc was in a horrible mood.

He was practically running riot in the guard tower, beyond just plain annoyance; he was pissed. The small room was lit with lights that had been manually turned on by re-adjusting the circuits (they weren’t meant to run so late) and was with guards who had been sent their on Durc’s orders. They all stood back, looking startled, as he rapped out orders to everybody unfortunate enough to be within his line of vision.

“You!” He snapped, pointing to a nearby slig. “Take a squad down to room 37 and search it for signs of cylonite, you,” he pointed to an intern slouching against the wall, “go do something productive; patrol a hallway, anything! Don’t just stand there...”

“Sir!” A slig said, running over.

“What?” Durc demanded acidly. The slig flinched.

“We have a signal coming from the mortuary squad, the ones you sent to track down that psychopath,” the slig said, holding out a walkie-talkie. Durc grabbed it eagerly.

“Yes? What is it?” He demanded, a slight squeak to his voice. He frowned when he heard the familiar mumbling coming from the other end. “Put on someone who can actually talk!” he snapped rudely. After a brief pause a slig’s voice came over the end.

“Gzz! Yeah? What?”

“What’s going on over there?” Durc said shrilly, shaking the walkie talkie. He could hear a quick discussion on the other end, and finally:

“Gzz! We’re on the wharf....” a pause. “...we’ve got the target in sight.”

Durc frowned. “The wharf? In this weather? Are you insane?”

“Hey, this wasn’t my idea!”

“Hey!” Durc called over his shoulder. “Get me some squads over here, whoever’s left!” He turned back to the walkie-talkie. “Where is he? What’s your position?”

“Gzz! He’s, you know, in front of us... I can’t really explain right now or he’ll hear.”

“Hold please.” Durc said, sounding more cheery than he would have liked. He turned the walkie-talkie off and declared; “I need as many squads as possible to get down to the wharf, on the double!”

<~{.epidemic.}~>

Nedd flinched as the glacial, humid air kicked up again, howling in his ears and piercing his skin. He squinted and tried to look through the raging storm and farther down the wharf, but to no avail. He was going to have to just go for it. He stalked farther down the metal docks, his head down and his horns flat against his head, eye clamped shut to protect himself from the icy rain.

‘Odd-damn guards,’ Nedd thought, ducking behind a crate as a blast of hurricane-strength wind whizzed on by, ‘damn weather ’

Nedd opened his eye weakly and looked around. He was crouched next to a bluish light coming faintly from a nearby window. The weather was getting worse; frightful winds were howling down the wharf, rattling the metal doors and kicking up chips of ice suspended to the side of the craft. Lightning forked the sky like the branches of a tree and thunder echoed against the sides of the airship, nearly bursting Nedd’s eardrums.

Nedd tensed and turned around, his back to the unforgiving elements. He had no choice but to head back. Staying outside would be suicide. ‘I might not have long to live, but I don’t want to waste it in this shithole,’ he thought darkly.

He slowly progressed back towards where he came, cringing as he felt grains of frost strike his back like miniature bullets. Even Nedd, the berserk cylonite victim, was no match for Mother Nature. Suddenly he paused. His eye slowly turned towards a corner near another metal door, just out of his vision. Voices were coming from the side. Voices he knew well. He bared his teeth.

‘Right on cue. Finally free, and I’m already a magnet for ignorant assholes.’ He thought, creeping up to where they were (badly) hiding. ‘Lets see who’s first on my list.’

<~{.epidemic.}~>

“He hung up!” the slig cried. Dan frowned.

Looks like we’re on our own. He said obscurely.

Ian glanced around the corner. His eyes widened. Guys, he’s gone!

What? Red hissed, looking. He stood rigid. But how...?

Nobody was watching? Ian demanded, rounding on his squad.

Dan scowled. I thought you were supposed to be on the lookout!

The sligs nearby muttered something to one another; they sounded pertained. They knew that the interns were upset about something, but they didn’t know what it was. Dan sighed. The last thing he wanted to do was to play twenty questions with a bunch of sligs.

The wind started to screech past their ears like a dying animal. Dan ducked down instinctively, covering his face as the storm released its wrath, pelting them with ice-cold rain and hail pellets.
‘We can’t stay out here,’ He thought worriedly, ushering for his squad to follow as he started for the door.

A large shape detached itself from above where they had once stood. It hung in the air like a demon, arms spread, dark eye shining, before crashing down and crushing a slig with its sheer weight.

Dan’s horns fell against his head. His grip tightened on his snuzi. You.

Nedd looked up from where he was huddled. Blood was dripping around his mouth, dark and red, from where he had bit the slig on the neck. He grinned, flashing his crimson-dipped teeth.

“Hello again.”

Murderer.

“A little touchy today, are we?”

I can’t say I’m pleased to see you.

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Dan paused. What are you doing out here?

“I was hiding.” Nedd said calmly, standing up. Dan felt dwarfed in his presence; when huddled over, Nedd seemed small, but when he stood to his full height, he towered over Dan completely. His blood-soaked fist was opening and closing convulsively. Dan stiffened in horror.

Your arm–

Nedd threw himself forward with the force of a cannon, bowling Dan aside. The small squad was disbanded effortlessly; all it took was some terror and a little nudge, and they all took off running in different directions. Dan jumped behind a pile of crates as Nedd lashed out with his hand, gutting one intern and knocking out a slig with his blunt hand. Dan crept around the pile of crates and made a mad dash for the other side, nearly volleying over from the slick floor.

A slig skidded around the corner in a desperate attempt to hide there too. Suddenly Nedd came from seemingly nowhere and slammed the poor being into the wall with his body. The slig gave a satisfying crunch, and Nedd jumped back, blood on his torso.

‘Oh odd oh odd oh odd...’

Dan crammed a cartridge clip into the back of his snuzi and pointed it in Nedd’s direction, only to find that he had vanished. Something rustled at Dan’s side. He swung around, brandishing his weapon expertly.

Hey! Red hissed, pushing the gun away. Watch where you point that thing!

Dan frowned sheepishly. Sorry, man.

The wind shrieked. The once softly-falling rain came in a sudden downpour, making the wharf twice as hazardous as it was before. Dan squinted against the fog and rain that had suddenly swept in; if anyone else had survived the attack, he couldn’t see it.

‘Nedd.’ He thought glumly. ‘Where are you, you bastard...’

He pointed his snuzi left, right, across, but it seemed like a wasted effort; nobody was around. For the moment, in Dan and Red’s small corner of the ship, reality was at a standstill. Their only option was to keep a stiff upper lip and wait out the coming storm.