Chapter 32 - The Warthog’s Legend (Part III)

Author's Notes:

Thanks to all the readers, especially those who leave comments.

Also, special thanks to Twisted and Lurken for making the effort of leaving a review on the main fiction page. It really is very encouraging for me! As a token of my appreciation, here's an additional chapter for this week. What are we at, 4 chapters so far in 5 days? Maybe I'm going as crazy as The Warthog Akatombe! Many thanks to everyone for providing the much needed drive and inspiration to accomplish this.

“Huh. As expected,” Grunted Akatombe to himself as he woozily got to his feet, feeling as though the earth was still quaking and rolling in insane waves under his feet.

“Damn Boss never does things halfway,” He muttered, laying a steadying hand upon the massive crag he’d used for refuge - then stared at the massive crack that ran not five inches from his fingers, likely caused when a damn flaming piece of metal debris about three feet long had been driven deep into the solid rock. Akatombe wasn’t sure if it was his own vision or the piece of metal that was still shaking from the impact.

Coughing roughly, he hawked to spit a mouthful of dust onto the ground, shaking his head in a vain attempt to clear it. His vision was still blurred, and a buzzing sound filled his ears. He was just glad that his eardrums hadn’t ruptured when the series of world-shaking explosions had blasted the entire mountain, threatening to just bring the entire thing down on his head.

Hell, hadn’t the Boss ever heard of a concept called restraint?

Feeling just a little guilty since that had been a concept he’d never quite grasped himself, Akatombe merely sighed as he tried to dust himself. Of course, that simply managed to summon another dust cloud around him, his clothes looking just as bad or worse.

Shrugging helplessly, he finally turned his gaze upon the spectacle that opened up in the mountain pass below him and sucked in a hissing breath.

And THAT is exactly why you don't ever want to piss off the Boss, he thought.

Nothing remained of the orderly line formed by the military convoy from mere seconds ago. Instead, all that could be seen was a twisted heap of crumpled metal, liberally colored with blood. All of it was submerged in an ocean of fire. The greedy waves of blue-tinged red and gold roared as they swept through the few silhouettes that were still whole enough to be vaguely distinguished as an actual object. That was, of course, until it either melted, cracked, crumbled, or simply exploded, adding to the ocean of chaos.

Another air-splitting blast thundered in the air, as if to punctuate his words.

Now that he took a moment to truly take in the hellish sight below, he could vaguely make out a pattern of deep crater marks arranged in a concentric circle as they snaked down the mountain passage. Well, what had formerly been a mountain passage. Nothing would be getting through that heap of rubble, even when the fire finally burned itself out.

One, two, three.. Huh. In the end he counted over 30 huge craters, deeply imprinted in the solid rock that lay under his feet. The burning remnants of countless vehicles and metal housings crackled merrily as ordnance of one sort or another found another chance to explode and add to the chaos and destruction.

“Good thing I’d never make the Boss angry,” Akatombe muttered to no one in particular, swiping a hand over his brow. Then he froze in mid-motion.

Was that.. Movement down there? What in the world? It couldn’t be!

Akatombe couldn’t help but stare in sheer disbelief as he detected movement amongst the wreckage. Those were.. Figures. Human-shaped figures slowly beginning to move out from the waves of fire that apparently were simply incapable of consuming them.

What was going on here?

Akatombe well knew that the fatality rate of ballistic ordnance was something under 70% percent, but this was simply ridiculous! That was a god damn scene from hell down there. How could anyone, let alone a whole group of people even survive, let alone walk out of there on their own two feet?

Oh.

Damn, they had EM fields THAT strong? Now that Akatombe thought about it, he’d aimed his laser at the farthest possible point from his own person, driven by pure and simple survival instinct. The farther away, the better for him! Apparently, that meant a rather substantial number of the enemy below had managed to escape the worst of the blast, ameliorated as it was with their EM shields.

Damn, those were strong, STRONG EM fields.

“Hahah, they got you there Boss,” Akatombe snickered to himself, then abruptly stopped as he realized what that meant for his weaponless, defenseless, helpless ass.

Aw, fuck me Boss! Really?

Still struggling with the dawning of this new realization of impending doom, he didn’t even turn around when a spectacularly loud crash was heard behind him along with another earth-shaking rumble, showering him with even more dirt and rubble.

One of the stealth - recon guys suddenly stood up some distance away with his own laser beacon still gripped in hand, waving cheerfully at him and pointing behind Akatombe’s back.

“What now,” he muttered darkly, as he slowly turned his head around. Then he stared dumbly at the sight before him.

Ah, he was so happy he could cry. Sniff. Sniff.

You're the best, Boss!

Driven a few feet deep into the ground and about a hundred feet off, stood a rocket propelled capsule container. They were used to transport emergency supplies or military equipment into heavily defended territory or across untraversable terrain - all of which applied here.

What really made his eyes sting in earnest was a simple line that had been scorched across the surface of the otherwise smooth burnished metallic surface of the gigantic capsule.

“GO CRAZY, LITTLE BUE

- B”

Hell yeah, about damn time!

***

Colonel Lin Feng of the glorious Obsidian Eagle Army currently lay on the floor, fully conscious and in good health, though faced with a great moral dilemma. It was a quandary which would haunt him for the rest of his mortal days.

“Should I stand, or pretend I’m dead? Is it safe?”

As of fifteen minutes ago, he had nearly pissed his pants laughing as this gigantic brute of a man had suddenly popped into their sight, completely defenseless except for a single polymer handgun. It was so dwarfed by the sheer mass and presence of the man that it looked like nothing but a tiny toy gun.

How much more hysterical the situation had turned when he’d found out that this simpleton, this buffoon was the famed, the legendary Demon of Marseilles, the Butcher of Salinas, the one and only Warthog Akanooshe!

Seeing the massively muscled mountain of a man dressed in nothing but a skin-tight thermal-shielding outfit was simply too much to endure! Several of his troops had even quietly requested permission to take pictures as souvenirs. He himself had been tempted to order the brute to lie on his stomach before him so that he could stand with his foot on the giant’s ass, just as a fond keepsake of this moment.

Instead, he’d been stupefied as he’d watched the giant utter some nonsensical words while aiming his little gun at them. He’d been about to bend over from his laughter when his gaze had followed the gun as the Warthog had thrown it high overhead. His laughter had instantly turned into complete and utter horror as he finally spotted countless flashing streaks soaring through the clouds, headed straight for the army behind him. Ballistic missiles, dozens of them, hissing their way to spell doom and death for his entire force could be seen clearly outlined against the darkening gloom of the cold mountain sky and the green-streaked radiation storm that had been spawned directly overhead mere seconds ago.

How in the world? Where had a whole swarm of them suddenly come from! Let alone penetrating their defense perimeter. How in the hell had they located..

That had been as far as he got before his entire world turned into a giant furnace, with hammer after monstrous hammer striking upon the anvil of the mountain rockbed. His army had been the unfortunate object that had shattered like so much brittle glass under the repeated, seemingly endless assault. Even through his reinforced EM field he could feel the bone-rattling, mind-numbing force of it, making it impossible to do anything but curl up into a ball and cry out in despair. Breathless second after second ticked on by, time seeming to slow down to an unbearable crawl as his heart seized and fluttered at each new horrifying explosion. He had no idea how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours?

He hadn’t even felt himself wetting his own pants.

The EM field had held though, barely. Thankfully, he had been well outside the optimal kill radius, and he could see several outlines moving amongst the burning wreckage. More survivors, due to a most fortunate combination of his army’s advanced EM fields, distance from the blast, and sheer dumb luck.

Gathering himself to his feet with a groan, he had swayed back and forth before being stabilized by a grimy, grim-faced lieutenant. Indeed, they would take bitter revenge against their foes for this ruinous ambush! Conducting a quick scan of his surroundings, he could see that there were still a surprisingly large amount of weapons platforms and ordnance that had been spared by the explosions.

“Major Wang! Where is Major..” He cried out in a shrill, shaky voice.

“Sir, Major Wang is dead,” came the subdued reply from the lieutenant who still supported him by the elbow.

“Then where is Captain Chou?”

“Dead or missing, sir,” came the grave reply once more.

“Goddamnit! I will have my revenge for this foul blow!” He snarled, the hatred in his eyes twisting his face into a barely recognizable expression. “Gather all our men. Salvage what we can, then we move to strike the enemy. The cowards! If only they had the guts to come face us!”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Came the low, rumbling words from above. It was not loud, the sound barely reaching his ears through the roaring of the fire in the mountain pass behind him. However, they rattled his heart and sent uncontrollable shivers down his back. “You might just get it.”

“Who is that?” Cried out the lieutenant, moving his hand towards the weapon holster by his hip.

Immediately, a short bark of thunder rumbled across the entire canyon and the young lieutenant abruptly vanished in a fine mist of crimson. A few scraps of meat squelched wetly as they flew high into the air to land with a sickening splattering sound, sliding a few feet in the dust.

Lin Feng instantly reeled back in horror, crying out in a shrill voice, “H.. help me. Guards, help me!”

“Defend the Colonel!” A deep voice cried out, and the sounds of multiple people rushing forward echoed from the rocky walls of the pass, followed by the metallic clattering of weapons hastily being readied.

“Hahah, that’s better. Bring it on, you bitches. Today, you all dance with Little Bu.. ah, damnit, with Warthog Akatombe!”

“Hostile target, 12 o’clock! Fire at..” The rest of the sharp command issued from somewhere down the line would never be heard as another deafening roar of thunder crashed down upon the entire pass.

High whistling sounds as well as countless metallic pings could be heard echoing across the air as entire groups of soldiers simply seemed to vaporize under an insane hail of bullets that raised up a blinding storm of hot sparks and dust. Liquid gold and red tracer bullets could be seen swiftly traversing in a continuous stream across the entire front, sweeping with it all signs of resistance. Black protective armor plates and pale flesh alike were instantly shredded like paper in a grotesque whirlwind of blood, without any way to recognize what little remained behind as anything vaguely human.

Finally, scattered bursts of gunfire could be seen responding in a pitiful attempt to fight back. However, those few patches of resistance were instantly and mercilessly ground down into fine, bloody powder by an irresistible hail of bullets.

One of the most unsettling scenes for Lin Feng was the sight of the single survivor of such an assault, which left all of his comrades instantly pulverized as the violent storm of gunfire swept past their entire squad in the blink of an eye. This last man standing abruptly stopped firing, then dropped his gun while slowly turning his head back and forth as though intently searching for something on the ground. Moments later, he crouched down and picked up a bloody object - an arm. As the man turned around to limp back while holding the grisly trophy, Lin Feng could finally see that the poor wretch had his entire right limb blown away, cut as neatly as though with a surgical knife. The stump was still splurting blood furiously as the man slowly moved back, swaying back and forth while staring stupidly at the severed arm held within his grasp. Then the implacable stream of gunfire swept past him once more, and the man was gone, with only a single smoking boot left standing vertically upon the spot where he had once stood.

It was at this point that Lin Feng finally collapsed, covering his own head with his hands, howling wordlessly in abject terror.

“Re.. retreat! Fortify positions, seek..” The words uttered by an unnamed, courageous soul were cut off with a flurry of whining, buzzing sounds, followed by several rapid metallic clangs and a couple wet squelches. Then there was only an eerie silence except for the sounds of numerous footsteps rapidly retreating, all to the backdrop of the snarling sea of fire still consuming most of the remains of what had once been the glorious Obsidian Eagle army.

“Yeah, you better run bitches!” Came the exultant cry from above Lin Feng as heavy, rumbling footsteps that shook the entire ground slowly approached him.

Lin Feng jerkily moved his head up, his eyes squinting against the glare of a potent flashlight shining upon his face - a face that lay smeared with snot and tears, the muscles constantly spasming in terror.

“Yo, it’s you,” came the rather jovial voice, thick with barely disguised pleasure. “Now, now, what’s my name again?”

“Ah.. ah..” Ling Feng skittered back, sliding over the entrails of some unknown soldier, his bloody hands not even registering the gore as his gaze remained riveted upon this steel giant slowly advancing toward him.

“Save the Colonel. Fire now!” Came a cry from the distance.

A couple rockets flew towards the giant, only to be casually batted aside by an impossibly fast metallic claw. It’s entire figure was instantly engulfed in a burst of flame, but as it slowly dissipated, a semi-transparent EM field flickered, then stabilized as the giant leveled its arm and muttered, “Goddamn mosquitoes, stop interrupting me.”

Four baseball-sized spheres of brilliant yellow flame burst forth from that arm, and they flew off into the distance with a low, screeching whine that was punctuated by several rumbling explosions and screams of pain, sending even more dust and debris into the air.

“Now, where were we? Oh yeah!” Came the voice once more, and the most terrifyingly evil face Lin Feng had ever beheld slowly came into his vision as the steel giant craned its head towards him.

“Who am I, fat little man?” The demon made flesh growled, as he raised his other arm in Ling Feng’s direction. The colonel simply sat motionless on the ground, staring in mute stupefaction as a small, blueish spark of fire came to life from the tip of that arm. It seemed to have a breath of its own, this small tongue of flame, as it slowly flickered in and out. It was like a ferocious beast from legend come to life, here to consume his very soul. In and out, it breathed.

In and out.

“Who am I?” Came the words once more, a ferocious roar that shook the air. Those final words sucked what little remained of Lin Feng’s soul from his bones, leaving behind nothing but a limp, catatonic shell.

Then scorching blue flames washed across him, and he knew nothing more.

***

“Fuck me, why me, boss?” Akatombe complained miserably as he sighed dejectedly, all the while staring in consternation at the damn swarms of pathetic little cowards who ran down the steep mountainside in all directions. They trampled over one another while hastily stripping off their own armor and throwing away their guns in an attempt to shed anything that might seem even remotely threatening, heedless of anything other than the most basic instinct for survival. Finally, they had become acquainted with a simple truth that had taken Akatombe himself 84 stitches, 12 broken bones, and gallons of gratuitously spilled blood to finally understand.

When the Boss comes for you, you either run or you die like a dog.

Only, at this particular moment that same life sustaining principle just so happened to be royally fucking him over.

“Dammit, what 90% casualty rate? Fuckall if I know what that is, in this shitpool!”

Groaning hoarsely, Akatombe looked down to check his ammo. 45% remaining. Ah, damn. If he returned to the Boss with even a single bullet remaining, there’d be hell to pay. Would the Boss understand if he calmly explained that he’d blown up anything that could be blown up, and ruthlessly crushed anything that seemed even remotely threatening?

Hell no. Of course not.

So, what now?

There only remained one solemn resolution scorched deep, oh so deeply within Major Ombue “Warthog” Akatombe’s heart. Especially after today, he’d resolved even more firmly to never, ever piss off the Boss.

With another helpless sigh, he once again readied his weapons systems as he resignedly - though some might say desperately - lumbered forward.

“Stop, you damn cowards. Come back! I have to kill you all! Please! It’s you or me, dammit! Stop!”

And thus the Legend of the Warthog lives on.