Lords of Shadow

The Will To Survive

That was probably why the Lords were so taciturn and aloof. It hadn't been three complete days since he got his shadow, and he already had a kill count of his own.

And with the emotional pain he felt for every kill, he wouldn't last a year of this. That was if he kept feeling pain for it. And worse of all, he felt like he wouldn't.

Every tear he tried to shed in memory of his victims was turned into pain energy by the wasp, fueling him for more murder.

And the last murder– for now– just gave them a bigger excuse than convenience to have him killed and dumped, then drink in celebration over it.

Loki searched the man, but didn't find an outright weapon, only a box cutter. Considering the nature of it, gore would be required to down anyone, and he had lost enough of his appetite already to accept that.

But he took it anyway. Better that than to fight barehanded. He looked up from the body, or corpse, and towards the door. Wind left it ajar, inviting him to take a peek.

Outside was a gloomy forest, as expected, and it looked lonely too. If anything, it seemed like he hadn't been locked up at base, and had just been dropped in the wild to starve.

But he had heard movement earlier. That meant that the militants were packing up, heading elsewhere for whatever reason. Maybe it was the fact that the rig wasn't operational, preventing their activities from continuing.

He frowned. That stroke of luck seemed unearned. El sin nombrē wanted a challenge, and he couldn't do that if the enemy didn't say put. But he wasn't complaining; no, it was quite the opposite.

Definitely the militants weren't gone, and probably just were waiting for transport somewhere closer to a motorable road. And definitely, they wouldn't leave without their prisoner.

The dead man had been sent to get him, and if he didn't return soon, they'd get suspicious and come looking, so he couldn't just wait until they left.

He also couldn't go in the other direction because he wasn't an explorer and just knew one forest route. His current location was already far enough to test his geography knowledge a bit.

Getting more lost would only further complicate things, and leave him in the den of abominable creatures for an indefinite period.

The double jeopardy was annoying, but not too taxing, at least not as much as making a meal with eight pieces of quid.

With a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped out, mapping every detail as quickly as he could. If things were going to get blurred, he didn't want to be running blind.

The forest worked with him. Although it didn't rain often here, the humid atmosphere never left, and such dampness carved the steps of all who walked on it. This left him with a clear path to freedom and the militants.

He followed it, slowly and carefully, distinguishing human footprints from animals, and recent ones from old. Soon, he heard voices, but he wasn't close to the exit point.

"He left to get the kid from earlier, hasn't returned yet."

"And that's why you're worried? He's a soldier, no child could give him a tough time, and that kid seemed like a weakling. He's probably just taking a shit in the bushes."

The first one chuckled, "I guess you're right. But he should be quick; the ATVs arrive in a minute now."

"Yeah, that's why we're going to get him. I've treked the three-hour drive before, and trust me, it's not something you'd want even your enemy to experience."

The two men walked past Loki, who was crouched in the bushes, unaware of the blood that had been spilled back at the cell. Once they did notice, all hell would break loose.

He got on his fours and scurried, heading farther down the footprint path, hoping to gain distance before the men ran back with set crossbows.

Surprisingly, that wasn't even the worst of his worries. If the hardened militant had been kind enough to pray for such a journey not to befall his enemy, it would not have been out of compassion.

And without a vehicle, he was condemned to travel that distance on foot.

He hadn't gone far when he heard the hasty steps he had been dreading. Some were dead, and some alive knew. Loki couldn't let them get back and alert the others, else the whole forest would be on lockdown.

He pulled on familiarity, helping the wasp cross the dimensional barrier. It wasn't less reluctant than the bee, but due to its more streamlined nature, it was easier to drag it out.

He touched the creature, watching it slowly dissolve into its hybrid state and flow onto his hand.

"So that still works, lucky me."

The glove was still dark purple and hugging his veins tightly, but there was one addition. A small slit just before his wrist, inhaling and exhaling, reeking of the same dangerous intent.

The men surfaced down the path, running back where they had come from.

"Ah...you just want El sin nombrē to put on a good show, don't you, nature?"

Loki huffed dejectedly at the universe's antics, then tightened his grip and launched himself out.

The first militant was swept off his feet, knocking into the second, and losing grip of his weapon to the surprise attack.

The second man fired, but Loki had already moved... didn't mean he dodged it though.

Four bolts struck him, two grazing past, leaving a flesh groove of sizeable depth, and two bored into his side. Loki fell to the ground, pushing back up before the militant reset his weapon.

Range attacks were their forte, so he had to bridge the gap and get up close...to know each other better. Loki rushed forward, pushing the crossbow to the side just as the militant had set its discharge funnel for him.

The second militant kicked him down before he had completed the movement, rushing back to grab his weapon, and maybe riddle him with holes.

Loki rolled up, leveraging the fading pain energy to keep his stamina. He rushed back in, but the first man whacked him across the face with the butt of his weapon, causing stars to burst behind his vision, but it didn't stop Loki.

As the second man fired, Loki dragged the first, pulling him into the bolt's path. It hit, but his protective vest did well to absorb most of the damage.

He was pushed back to the ground, creating the distance needed for a perfect aim. As the man shot, Loki instinctively brought his hands up to protect his upper chest, and the wasp took it from there.

It forced movement upon him, setting his hand's travel space to line up with that of the bolt.

The hit echoed harshly, like metal against metal. Strange!

Loki looked at his hand, intact. Then at the deformed piece of the iron dart, which seemed to have had part of its body melted off from impact.

The shooter seemed shocked too. More shocked to see that this was the same kid locked up.

Loki powered and pushed up, only to be flung back down by the speeding boot of the second militant. His left eye burned for a second.

They both aimed, firing before Loki could place his hand to block. There was still no way he could block them all.

And he couldn't, but in that moment, he wasn't intending to do so. His intent was to survive, and the wasp understood that.

The slit opened as Loki's flesh did too, and fired two needles out of it. One hit the first man, and the other hit the second, and almost immediately, they had their eyes widen.

And then widen more, until it just remained that way. They clutched their throats as if being choked, until they fell to the ground, almost pristine, in sharp contrast to Loki. And likewise in that contrast, they were dead, and he somehow wasn't.

Loki looked at them as he dragged himself up. He didn't want this to end in their deaths. He just wanted to survive, and sometimes, survival of one party meant the death of the other.