Chương 172: 85 - VICTIM MENTALITY

Monan Ryker sat and waited at the end of the world. Actually, it had been a week past the end of the world. He had specifically waited in a place he knew T'balt would find him. And so he had only left the rooftop club to go down and get his number tattooed. Other than that, he had been sitting at the bar ever since. Though this time, when T'balt found him, he wouldn't look so tattered. His hair would be groomed. His face would be smiling, and the place wouldn't stink so bad of death. It was a nightclub after all.

So when things went down at noon, there was only a janitor to get killed by a passing demon. But after a few days, the general stink of the city was infecting this place.

"Damn, what's taking the kid so long? Maybe I actually broke him this time. That's no fun."

"Ummm… I have a family, you know. You can't just keep me here forever." A man was behind the bar, timidly trying to be commanding. There was a pistol on Monan's side of the bar and a chained anklet locking the man underneath it. Monan gestured at the gun on the counter, and the man flinched.

"It's alright. I'm not gonna shoot ya. But I needed someone who's actually good at making drinks and also someone to wake me up if I get some company. Just in case I'm on the nod." The man looked perplexed.

"And then I can go?"

"Maybe. As long as the drinks are good."

"Ok… what kind of company are you expecting?" They heard a distant whistling which turned into a distant cracking. And suddenly the earth felt like it was moving, or reacting to a stampede that wasn't touching it.

"HOLY SHIT!" The bartender shouted, pointing at the sky. Monan glanced up from his drink and smirked. It was a hailstorm of meteors, and they were coming right for him like a rain of mortar fire. Reacting, he sprinted to the other end of the roof as the bartender screamed. One of the meteors landed right on top of the man, eviscerating him and about half of the building on which they stood.

"Whoa… someone's not playing nice anymore." Monan searched around for his escape. The meteors were still coming, and the building was breaking on its foundation and far below it. Before it crumbled, he leaped to the roof of the building next door. He searched the skies for an image of the man who was hunting, only to find a distant silhouette in the nighttime sky. But there was no use pretending to be surprised. He knew who had finally come for him.

"Ah yeah. Now the party can really start." More meteors came for him along with lasers of white light and flame. Even weapons: knives, swords, arrows. Monan evacuated the building post haste, which meant jumping off the roof and using an awning as a landing pad. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. A furying gust of wind blew through the alley of buildings, swooshing him down to the concrete. He recovered quickly, searching for his motorcycle.

He found it parked in the alley, started the engine, and raced towards the main road. All the while, the magic kept following him with killing intent. But thousands of years had taught him to become adept on his favorite mode of transportation. He dodged a set of arrows by sharply turning down a dark alley. He hammered the throttle, coming out of the alley into a pileup of cars. He slid to course correct, sliding under a semi that he knew was there.

The big truck ended up taking a sharp blast of lightning in his stead. Monan laughed, a drunken maniacal laugh, and veered down the road at full speed. That dark silhouette was falling not far behind, keeping up with him in the air despite him going 80 on a public street. A flurry of metal crashed on the street, attempting to block off his path, but Monan took a soft right, riding a tow trucks ramp into the glass windows of an office building.

The shattered glass cut his cheek and made several rips in his leather jacket. But that didn't stop him. he hardly felt it. He zoomed through the aisles of cubicles, aiming for another window. He pulled his pistol and shot it a few times, ensuring it would shatter on impact with the bike. When it did, he landed hard on the street but with enough balance to keep him going. But a meteor blast then blew several billboards off their pillars, and they came down to crush him.

He had to outspeed them to escape, each one thudding and sending a shockwave through the wheels of his bike.

"You're gonna have to be sharper than that, kid!" he laughed. He was riding on a bridge. Several thick wires holding it up as it stretched for a mile, but as Monan rode it, each of those wires started to snap like falling dominoes. Then pieces of the bridge started to plummet when the pillars below started shattering as well. Monan grunted and maxed out his speed as the road began to twist and roll like he was riding on the back of a live dragon. The road kicked at him, causing him to veer out of control.

He launched into the air, clearing the bridge, but he was tossed from his motorcycle, which flew into another vehicle, simultaneously blowing itself up. Monan hit the ground and rolled in a way that spread the impact but still likely cracked a few ribs. He attempted to crawl to his feet. But the man was there. T'balt Ferrier. His skin was laced with loot stamps and his eyes were glowing a deep, menacing red.

"Ohh... the collector, huh?" Monan spat out.

"I was wondering what was with all the theatr—." He grimaced, realizing that something had pierced his abdomen. It was a metal spear, three times the length of his body, formed out of some metal loot. Monan fell to the ground, coughing up blood…

"Wait," he pleaded when T'balt approached.

"You don't wanna do this. I'm just a poor, lootless man. I can't even defend myself." That earned him a moment of pause. But just long enough to determine what trap lay in the words. Then just as quickly, he realized it didn't matter. An axe formed from thin air and it swung down, chopping Monan's pleading clean from his body. The man internalized the pain, not letting it leave his mouth.

"Oh, man… You got me good, T. Oh, I can't continue. I give up." The words were said through a smile of the man's bloody teeth, which only served to piss his hunter off even more. His other arm was cut off as T'balt spoke.

"I'm going to kill you, and I'm going to keep killing you until the world stops turning and undoubtedly resets. Then I'll kill you again…" By the end of the speech, Monan Ryker had no arms, no legs. Just a head to process the titanic amount of pain he was in. The man hardly looked like a man. More like a sack of bones. T'balt put a foot on his throat and stomped as hard as he could. Monan woke up coughing at the rooftop club. But even that eventually morphed into a joke.

"Jeez… I haven't been in that much pain in a while!" He laughed hard and loud. Everyone at the club was staring at the man who had been told no joke but laughed in a way that made even the bartender uncomfortable.

"You good, man?" Sam tapped him from behind, but he shrugged it off, walking away without a word.

"Wait, where are you going?" But Monan spoke only to himself as he was the only one here who mattered.

"It might actually be fun to play the hunted for a while."