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The Rifleman - Ch.47
🕑 Added 2024-07-13 08:01:00 +0000 UTCChapter Forty-Seven
Take it all!
“Need backup!” Wesley called as he started to fire on the approaching horde. This was the weakness of his strategy. He could defend easily enough against a spread-out attack, but an attack from a single direction could break through if they were determined enough.
That was the grim reality as Wesley was forced to retreat from the wall. His regular shots were futile against the armored undead, and even his Infused Flare-augmented bullets failed to penetrate. He had managed to take down a few in the front, but the rest had used their fallen comrades as shields, advancing relentlessly.
He sprinted back from the wall as the leaders crashed through, the barrier proving no match for their strength. It was just compacted earth, after all. Wes's sims glided forward, a tactical maneuver to join him as he swiftly turned and dropped to one knee.
“Firing line!” Wesley called, and his sims formed up with him, aiming at the charging enemies. “Hotshots!” Wesley called, and they unleashed a volley of glowing rounds at any exposed flesh they could see.
Fire spread slowly through the bodies of the abominations, especially since so much metal had replaced normally flammable areas. Still, it slowed the advance enough that they started to spread out, the ones behind pushing wide to try and get at their target.
They began to fall into the pits, slowing their advance even further.
Rapidly running out of charges for his flare spell, Wesley was beginning to think he would have to show the healing spells, which he had hoped to keep as an emergency trump card.
Just as he was about to cast an Emergency Flare at the group, it parted, and the zombie shuffled forward, bringing up the sprayers as it hissed and gnashed its teeth.
“Hit that with a stunner from the side,” Wesley pointed it out to Sara. “And stay back.”
His warning was proved true a second later as the night lit up with twin streams of fire. Wesley dove flat, feeling the air heat rapidly as the fire passed over him.
His own sim copy was not as lucky, getting destroyed for the second time that day.
Just as Wesley was rolling clear of the steam of fire, the night lit again with a flash of light, followed by a ‘woompf’ that sent him rolling.
Whatever that liquid had been, it was much more flammable than he had accounted for. The blast killed everything near the zombie, and Wesley even felt the Sara sim destroyed as a wave of fire rolled outward.
Wes shifted into wisp form and back again to douse any fire on him and got slightly unsteadily to his feet.
An entire third of the area inside the small earthen wall was scorched, black smoke rising from several swamp plants inside the perimeter, and small fires burned here and there.
“Are we safe?” Joy leaned out of a window on the upper floor, looking excited. “Did we win?”
“No!” Wesley called back more sharply than he intended. He saw Joy wince.
“Sorry, no, it’s not over yet. Please, try to stay out of sight.”
“Okay, sorry!” Joy vanished inside with an apologetic look that made Wesley feel like he had just kicked a puppy. He really didn’t want to upset her, but something had been missing from the attack so far.
Ranged attackers.
At his best guess, there were at least four more hours till dawn. That was plenty of time for more attackers. The flamethrower zombie showed that they had some success with their experiments, which was not great news. It meant anything could be coming next.
He did not attempt to loot any of the bodies. As much as he would like to, Wes really doubted now was the time for that. Instead, Wesley quickly did his best to repair what he could of the wall, but it was clearly a waste of effort. The explosion had done just too much damage. There were cracks and fallen sections everywhere.
Shifting into wisp form, Wesley began to circle the wall, checking for other damage or more attackers while the Sara sim went the other way. He was just meeting up with her again when a steel pole slammed into the center of her head, destroying the sim for the second time in an hour.
“Shit,” Wesley dove for cover as more and more sharp metal poles began to rain down on the area.
“You three finish off the summon; the rest or you attack the tower. We’ll take it down from here if we have to.”
The voice was the ghoul’s, but he didn’t sound close. As opposed to whatever was launching those poles, which were currently slamming down within inches of where he was pressed against the dirt wall.
Trapped and with no help to call on, Wesley did the only thing he could think of doing.
Wes dropped wisp form and grabbed his trusty shovel, jabbing it into the ground beneath him and choosing trench. He felt the wall of dirt collapse and heard the ghoul yelling, but he was too busy digging a rapid, zig-zag trench away from the wall. It was a mad dash of stab, select, and run a few steps before repeating, all while throwing the displaced dirt over his shoulder.
He made it clear of the wall, but the attacks started to appear in front of him and behind him. It was clear they intended to box him in and kill him from afar, so Wesley abruptly burst from the trench, unloading a full clip at the attackers and getting a clear view of them for the first time.
The latest attack was seven abominations, but they were even more heavily modified than the last group. Each one was almost entirely encased in metal, with only a narrow slit to see through. The left arm had been removed, with a massive crossbow-like mechanism replacing it. Given the size of the abominations, it was closer to a ballista than anything else. The metal poles were loaded by emaciated corpses that sat on the shoulders of the abominations, pulling ammo from large bundles on the abomination’s back.
It was an impressive design.
He doubted there was much even his Emergency Flare could do against them, given how covered they were, and he only had two charges of A.P. rounds.
Deciding two was better than none, Wesley looked for a chance to fire, but every time he stopped to aim, one of the poles whistled toward him, forcing him to reposition.
The ghoul’s laughter echoed in his ears as he saw the door to the tower give under a hail of harpoons.
“Fuck it!” Wesley muttered. “You want nuts; nuts is what you get.”
Wesley grabbed his shovel in one hand, bayonet in the other, and stowed his rifle as he activated Were-wisp and charged the abominations.
Dodging, ducking, diving, and rolling as a wisp was a lot easier and faster than in his normal form. Wes closed the distance quickly; seeing the abomination’s remaining massive fist raising to punch, Wesley ducked the blow and stabbed down with his shovel.
He went into the pit with the thrashing creature, stabbing his bayonet into the visor and unleashing an Improved Flare through the knife.
A second later, he kicked off the corpse, backflipping out of the pit and shooting toward the next abomination.
Not since his time in the maze had Wesley been so close to being skewered from second to second. The air seemed full of sharp metal poles, and he had to twist and turn like a gymnast just to avoid being killed, let alone getting to his next target.
One by one, they went into a pit and died with fire burning through their armor. By the time there were three left, Wesley was running on fumes and was forced to retreat, dodging and ducking every second or so.
“That’s right! Run!” the ghoul laughed as Wes was forced back, “None can stand against the might of the Forgemaster and the Marshwalker combined!”
“Spare me,” Wesley panted as he slid to a stop, dropping his wisp form as he spun, drew his rifle, and fired an Armor Piercing Round through the nearest abomination. Rolling aside, he came up into a firing stance and loaded another charge, seeing a spear flying directly for him.
Wesley stayed where he was, pulling the trigger a split second before he cast My Shield twice.
The spear smashed the shields, but it was enough to allow his steel-woven trousers to absorb most of the rest of the blow.
One abomination left.
The ghoul screamed in rage as Wesley began to advance, using his bayonet—back in its proper place on his rifle—to parry the incoming poles as he closed the gap between him and his last armored enemy.
“No! How many skills do you have? No!” the ghoul shrieked.
“Temper, temper,” Wesley chuckled despite his creeping exhaustion.
“Fuck! You!” The ghoul snarled and howled as it ran off. “I’ll show you! I’ll show you!”
Okay, Wesley thought, that might have been a mistake. There was only one thing dumber than fighting some mad idiot who made monsters, and that was taunting that same mad idiot.
He finally closed on the last abomination and ducked its clumsy, metal-encased fist to jab his bayonet into the visor, firing a hotshot into the gap and dodging away as it flailed and died.
He limped slightly on his way back to the tower. Wes cast a charge of Lesser Regenerate on himself and sat down in front of the tower, which seemed to have a new door.
“Mister Rifleman?” A voice called from inside. “Are you okay?”
“Still kicking,” Wesley answered tiredly. “I think they might be running out of things to throw at us. How is Malia doing?”
“She is sleeping again,” Joy called from the other side of the door.
“Didn’t the door give way?” Wesley asked after a moment.
“I repaired it,” Joy said happily. “I like things neat.”
“That’s good,” Wesley said honestly. “Well done.”
“Thank you,” Joy said quietly. “Is it time to go now?”
“Yes, I think so, Joy,” Wesley said as he closed his eyes for a second. “I think the last bit is coming now.”
“Okay,” Joy said, and he could hear tears in her voice. “Can I tell you something, just in case we don’t make it?”
“Sure,” Wesley didn’t have the heart to say they would be fine. That was still in the balance.
“I’m not a good Bright-heart,” Joy said dejectedly. “I am supposed to be generous in all things… but I fail.”
“We all fail sometimes, Joy,” Wes said, still keeping his tired eyes closed. “What matters is we keep trying, right?”
“Do you think so?” Joy asked.
“Got to be,” Wesley said with a smile. “Pobodies nerfect.”
“What?” Joy asked. “Don’t you… oh!” He heard a quiet giggle behind the door. “Thanks for not leaving me,” Joy added after a moment.
“No thanks required,” Wesley replied. “It was my pleasure.”
He leaned back and rested, waiting for what he knew would be a big fight if it all went wrong.
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An hour before sunrise, he heard it coming.
Something big was approaching the tower, and he could already tell, without even seeing it, that he would have no chance at all of fighting it.
In less than a minute, he could feel the ground shaking beneath his feet, and he just had to hope Joy and Malia were safely hidden.
“Behold the power I command!” the ghoul crowed from what looked like a throne tied to the back of a massive abomination. “Now, we shall take that tower and your bones as well!” It cackled like a movie villain.
Wesley missed everything else it said as he stared in horror at the thing approaching him. The top half was made of what looked like a half-dozen abominations mashed together to create a single massive torso and giant arms, each ending in steel hammers the size of a small car.
What passed for a head for the creature was beyond description. Melted flesh, eyes, and mouths opened in all directions while it groaned huge, heaving moans through them all.
That would have been enough to have him running, but the bottom of the creature was even worse. Four heavy metal legs were strung with undead muscle fibers, while a black lubricant leaked from thick, transparent cables that Wesley was horrifically confident were made from intestines.
He took a few steps back, responding to his innate urge to run before forcing himself to stop, standing dead in between the thing and the tower.
Since he was terrified, he gave in to the obvious joke.
“You! Shall! Not! Pass!” He intoned.
“Fool!” The ghoul played the role of a cackling madman well. “You will pay for your arrogance with your life!”
The amalgam creature sped up, sweeping aside his defenses as if they were toys, and charged.
Wesley waited as long as he could, but there was only so long he could stand there with that creature bearing down on him.
Wheeling, Wes fled for the tower. The gibbers of terror he let out sounded perfectly real because they actually were. That horror should not exist, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to fight it.
Wesley crashed through the door, kicking it shut behind him. “Get out! We can’t win!” he roared at the empty room. “Hide! Oh, god! Hide!” he yelled as he ran across the common room, through an open doorway, and dove out the window on the far side of the tower.
The moment he rolled upright, Wesley released his My Domain spell and heard the creak of warning.
He shifted into wisp form and shot across the ground, getting out of range before looking back just in time to see the massive, seven-story tower of heavy stone collapse.
The roar and thunder of the crashing stone lasted for what felt like hours, and Wesley crossed his fingers that his plan would work.
The reason for placing his Domain under the floor of the tower was actually twofold. First, it gave him extra My Shield charges to use in an emergency. That had not been necessary in the end, but Wes was still glad he had them in reserve.
Secondly, and more importantly, it would replace the tower’s foundations. That wouldn’t be a problem, as the spell structure made the safe room basically indestructible, at least as long as the room was still there.
Once he released the spell, however, it was a different story.
He had seen in other places that what came in to fill the space was not what was there before but just general, open terrain.
In short, it did not replace the foundations, which left the seven-story stone tower with nothing to support it.
Spoiler alert: that was not a good thing.
Now, for the hard part.
There was always the chance the tower did not actually kill the thing it had just landed on, which meant that Wesley had to willingly go back there and try and finish it off.
‘Willingly’ might have been pushing the definition a lot, but Wesley did go back.
He had never been as anxious as he was while he moved over that pile of rubble, carefully stabbing a hesitant bayonet into any flesh he saw to see if it moved.
When a bit of it finally did, Wesley yelped and fired a healing-infused bullet into it on reflex.
The area melted and burst into flame, the area around it rapidly liquifying. A moment later, Wesley felt a rush of essence and knew it was dead.
The second he relaxed, a black cane struck out, knocking the rifle from his tired hands and sending it spinning off into the distance.
Wesley rolled away, blocking blows that seemed to rain from all directions before he finally managed to dodge back enough to force the ghoul to disengage.
“Do you have any idea how much it took to make that creature?” the ghoul spit, face twisted in rage. “Do you?”
“None at all,” Wesley admitted.
“Well, fool. Your weapon is gone, and you’ve played your last trick,” the face split into a feral sneer. “I promise you will die slowly.”
“And painfully,” Wesley offered as the two circled each other.
“What?” the ghoul snapped.
“Slowly and painfully,” Wesley offered. “You are supposed to say slowly and painfully.” He shifted into Were-wisp as he spoke, casting a Healing Flare and gathering the energy into a tight coating on his fists. “And I still have a trick or two to show you.”
The ghoul struck forward, only to recoil as Wesley jabbed at him. It could feel the danger in the energy in his fists, even if it didn’t understand what it was. They circled and struck at each other before Wesley saw a flicker of light and dove aside a fraction of a second before Malia’s sword burst through the ghoul, bisecting it from head to crotch in a single blow.
Wesley dropped wisp form and sagged to his knees.
“So, you’re feeling better?” He asked Malia.
“Just a little,” Malia grinned. “How was my timing?”
“Could use a little work,” Wesley joked. “Now, I think I deserve a cookie.”
