Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter Seventy-Three | Third World

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His movements didn't stop, Hansel remained desperate to reach the vans. Whether or not, in reality, they would prove to give them any protection from the seriously-overpowered creatures that had set the trap for them, he wasn't sure— but his grip on the soldier's arm hadn't relaxed. The wounded man whom he was dragging along, hadn't said another word since alarming them of the advancing Rotter's pursuit of them.

Hansel was faintly aware that the previously repeated sounds of gun-fire, had completely ceased. He didn't even give himself a chance to marvel at the obscure sight of the water from the puddles surrounding him, dripping upwards.

It was only when he slammed a hand against the side of one of the vans that he took in a huge breath of air. His chest painfully throbbed, his head feeling a little woozy and his knees shaking as his exertion made itself known. He panted heavily, looking only at the ground beneath his feet. It wasn't so much that he'd exhausted himself physically, it was more the difficulty of firstly suppressing his own anxious thoughts in order to save someone else other than himself.

He figured that even though they'd reached the vehicles, with the creature nipping at their heels, it would reach them in no time. Which is why he braced himself; refusing to look. He felt physically sick, petrified that he was going to die. But one short moment after another, there was no sudden attack from behind. There was still no gun-shots— but no one was speaking.

Eventually he couldn't control his own curiosity, and looked over his shoulder. But the sight left him with more questions. On top of his own heart-beat, his heavy breaths all but deafened Hansel's senses. His wide eyes tried to take everything in, trying to make sense of it.

Not too far away from where they stood, was the creature he had previously been fleeing from. It was as the soldier had cried, it was following them with such an intent to rip them apart. Due to its abnormally configured limbs, it would only take two or more paces to reach Hansel anyway. If not for someone else's interference— he would have been killed.

That sense of self-loathing weakness hit home; harder than he realised at the current time.

As for what it was that brought the creature down— well that was a whole different matter. From the puddles that surrounded everyone, no matter their size, water had lifted from them and shot in the direction of the Rotter. Before they reached the creature, the blobs seemed to have merged together and then frozen— piercing the abnormal being quite brutally in various positions. Shards of ice halted the advanced-rotter's movements, killing it on the spot.

From the many bullet-wounds that penetrated the body of the disfigured rotter, it was easy to determine that they wouldn't be going down easily. But it seemed by plunging blades of ice through just about every orifice, it seemed to work. It was completely restricted, a shard shooting up from under its chin and straight through to the top of his head. A gruesome sight, but to see whatever it was that was making it function, go out like a light, was refreshing for all those around.

It's eyes had rolled back into its skull, mouth open and exposing what had killed it. Judging by how the other group had stopped shooting as well, the problematic Rotter in front of them seemed to have been taken care of too. When Hansel looked back to the one in front of them, he caught sight of the soldier next to him looking in a different direction.

Following it, his gaze landed on the Commander, who once stood solidly with a weapon in hand as he helped them out by shooting the creatures. He now wavered on his feet, his complexion turning ashen in the second, until he inevitably caved. Collapsing to the ground, followed by a twitch of the body.