Battleforged: Survivor

There, movement! Alarm froze him stock still as his anxious eyes peered into the gloom, seeing nothing but shadows and darkness until restless movement became the silhouettes of a pair of burly men with baseball bats casually held against their shoulders, and no sign of his sister at all. His heart lurched in his chest as he desperately continued to peer into the darkness. Maybe it was just a couple scavengers checking out the alleyway. No doubt his sister had spotted them and quickly darted back through the false bottom of the dumpster. For all Eric knew, there had been no time to put up any subtle flag indicating whereabouts and intentions. All that mattered to him at that moment was that she was safe. He began whispering fervent prayers that such was the case while clenching the haft of his spear painfully tight, desperate for the pair of scavengers to leave. Yet they stayed right where they were, one even going so far as to stick his head out into the street beyond, showing off gaunt features and a scraggly beard as he idly swung his bat around, eyeing both ends of the boulevard before sauntering back to his shadowy partner. ''Any sign of anyone?'' Eric flinched at the sound of the whiskey-roughing voice further in the alley. ''Nah, man, there ain't shit comin' or goin'. I told you she was a one-off. Just a stupid bitch thinkin' that crossbow of hers made her anything but a stuck-up cunt.'' Scraggly beard shook his head. ''Now Aaron's got a gut wound and we got no fuckin' doctors so that fool's gonna have to dare the pods anyway. And Phil and the others are gonna get the bounty because you're a greedy fuck thinkin' some other loser would actually show up at this hour.'' Other words were said then, but Eric could hear nothing over the roar of his own pounding heart as his worst nightmare came true. His twin sister, whom he loved as fiercely as his own life, had been taken by these low-life monsters because he had been so headstrong and greedy as to race off on his stupid, foolish quest and she had refused to let him go without being there to cover his six just in case he had heat on his tail. Both of them so stupid as to count on perfume that might irritate rats but would only catch the noses and interests of gutter-snipes like these if he had just gotten back a few minutes sooner. If only he hadn't bothered trying to hunt down that final pack of rats. It was all he could do not to scream as he raced across the street. The soft leather padded soles of his boots that had come in so damn handy in rat hunting paid off one last time as Scraggly beard was so busy bitching with his partner that he didn't even think to turn around until Eric had finished sprinting across the street. But by then, it was far too late. Eric's scream was silent, projected in the fury of his lunge as he slammed into the closest slaver with every ounce of force and fury he could generate, his spearhead leading the charge. Yet it caught even him off guard just how easily his weapon plunged through the man's chest, Eric actually slamming right into his opponent's back and bowling him over after completely running him through, his fallen foe now spraying hot blood everywhere. The second figure lurched in surprise, Eric didn't hesitate, horror at his own actions, terror for his sister, and blind fury for the assholes who had laughed at his sister's kidnapping as if it were nothing propelled him forward. Vincent's lessons were the only thing that made sense as the rest of his mind was a whirlwind of grief, fury, and a desperate need to kill. Fencing is all well and good, Eric, but if you're ever in a real fight, you need to seize the vore, claim the initiative, take your enemies by surprise, and hammer into them with everything you've got until you're the last man standing. Fencing skills don't mean shit if you can close and kill before your opponents even have a chance to get their bearings, let alone unsheathe their blades. He didn't dare waste a second, forgoing his now-jammed spear to slam into the flat-footed asshole with his bat still held against his shoulder. The man only had time for a surprise grunt as Eric wailed into him with everything he had. Even if Eric didn't know shit about boxing beyond throwing a solid right hook that looked good on camera, he knew that when your foe had a bat at his shoulder, you closed the distance and got right into his face just as fast as you could, giving him no room to swing, preferably while pounding your opponent's ribs and face like your life depended upon it, because it did. Even though his opponent's stunned disbelief only lasted a second, the man now fumbling back and roaring that he'd kill Eric as he tried to get distance between them, Eric continued to press right against the asshole, shoulder-slamming him into the brick wall of the alley, channeling his fury into pounding the man's ribs as hard as he damn well could before the man finally dropped his bat.