I Tried Not Killing... (Madness Combat Part 5)

I Tried Not Killing…

            With a quick twist of my body and a flash of fire, I summoned my sword and slammed the tip of the blade into a point next to the door handle. A quick jerk up, a quick pull down, and then withdrew the sword and raised one of my feet up. Sadly, they were not kind enough to provide me with ample time to escape.

            The beeping ceased and was immediately followed by a deafening bang. I was launched through the door and slammed into the opposite wall back out in the hallway. My body was torn in a few places, the gaps in the smoke revealing movement as I forced myself back up onto my feet. The matter that my body was constituted of slowly reformed and pulled itself back together as I stood, my hand reaching down to retrieve my sword and hold it close. “You all… Need to learn some manners.”

            My statement was greeted with quite an aggressive response… As always. Men in black suits with red glasses charged forth with an assortment of melee weapons in hand. Machetes, knives, clubs, what can only be considered a megachete, pipes, and a wrench or two were what they brought… They wouldn’t be enough. The first two stepped up, my body lunging forward to impale the first on the right, leaving my left hand to come up with a conjured knife to block the other grunt’s attack and counter it with a quick jab of the blade into the man’s throat. So untrained. I withdrew the knife and threw it into the closest, proceeding grunt before stepping forward, the edge of my sword gliding through the now severed body of the first grunt to stab into the forehead of another.
            I took a step with every attack, the sword gliding through their corpses before being followed by a splash of blood that coated the walls and my clothing. One stepped up with what appeared to be a larger gun… but, it wasn’t a shotgun… I stepped up and ran through one of the melee grunts to use him as a shield, my free hand coming up with a summoned pistol to return fire. Holes appeared where the pieces of metal struck, shattering his glasses and sending him to the ground.

            More followed suit as I made my way through the building, cutting down those within reach and, after having figured out what the gun he was carrying did and was, mowed down those I came across who chose to remain at a distance and place their faith in their own firearms in the hopes that I would not reach them. For those that ran, I did not pursue… For those that stayed, they chose their own fate… That of a painful, bloody death like those that came before them.

            As I stepped out of the building and slowly made my way back down the street. It was time for me to visit my little warehouse.