One Stormy Night

Tryska was allowed a brief window of a break each day to eat, relax, and contemplate quietly, away from the loud sounds of the factory floor beneath her and the chatter of its' workers. As one of the Ravagers, she was expected to do her part to contribute to the whole, though she hardly considered herself on the same level as the unhinged sociopaths she worked alongside.
It was on one such break that the Felisian allowed her mind to drift off to her first meeting with her leader, Fang, and how she would go on to become the first Ravager. It was during her days as a freelance communications' technician working on the grimy world of Taktosa. Miles of grey, metal buildings stretched across the landscape into a crude city, decorated only with graffiti, litter, and the odd addict shivering in an alleyway.
Trys was living with her then-boyfriend, Vann Klax, a bouncer at a local strip joint and bar. Not that Trys cared at the time. In her mind, he was a noble soul working hard hours at a disreputable locale just to support her. Despite his temper, he had a softer side that only she could see.
But it always frustrated Trys how he would work late, then arrive home and pass out drunk on the couch after he had agreed to pick her up from work. After several unsuccessful attempts to get a hold of him, it was now up to her to brave the mean streets of Koboro city to get to their small apartment. The tram ride was quiet enough. A shivering Chivalian sat in the rear, hugging a tattered brown blanket for warmth as his breathing tubes emitted a raspy series of breaths.
Near Trys, a teenage Felisian girl like herself sat alone, listening to music. When she had got up to leave, Trys noticed she was pregnant and the older Felisian's ears drooped in remorse. This city was unkind to the innocent... particularly women. Which was why Trys was none too keen on traveling the three mile trek home late at night during a storm.
The tram's lights were dim and the floor was littered with garbage and stains, likely from vomit. Near the end of the tram sat a lone figure who looked Terran but with a messy, white mane of hair that covered his face. It dripped from water and had an unkept look to it. He wore a dark longcoat over a white, ripped shirt. Trys was unnerved by his appearance so tried to avoid looking at him, focusing instead on the window to her side.
The flashes of lightning arcing through the night sky lit up the garbage city brilliantly - the only beautiful thing on the otherwise horrid planet. The flashes were brief, lasting not even a second, but Trys tried her best to focus on them. Savor them. They were lovely... and somehow reminded her of a time when things were not so horrible. A time when she was genuinely happy.
The Tram squealed to a stop and the Horgussian operator opened the exit for any passengers wanting to get off at the stop. His porcine face always disgusted her, the way drool hung from his lips like a dog's. Since it was her stop, she readily took it rather than waste any more time on the depression train. As she moved to the exit, the white-haired Terran reached it first, giving a faint growl at her causing her to back off hastily. He tiredly got off the Tram and she cautiously followed, keeping a safe distance from the drifter.
Looking back on it, Trys should've taken a different route. The street was Chapel Drive, a neighborhood notorious for its' hoodlums and psychopaths. The first few seconds in, the girl got some nasty looks from thugs sitting on their porches or resting in garbage. Her anxiety spiked and her chest churned. Warning neurons were firing away in her brain screaming at her to turn around, but by the time she'd rounded the corner, she was face to face with three goons. A Horgussian, a Wyalder, and a Terran wearing a mask resembling a skull.
The skull-faced one appeared to be their leader, greeting her darkly "Well well well, hello there, kitty cat. What brings you to our neck of the woods?" The rain pelted them all and made Trys' fur cling to her body like so many layers of clothes. This made her slow.
Gasping, she turned to flee but was close-lined by the Horg, who snorted a few grunts and slammed her against a metal wall. He licked his slovenly lips at the sight of her and the Wyalder growled "No! No! Me first this time! Kygg always goes first, he does!"
The skull-wearing one drew a knife and warned the Horg "He's right, Kyggie. Let's say I warm her up first, then Skat, then you."
The Horg whined a complaint but released her, aiming a hard punch in her gut that brought her down to the ground. He forced her legs apart as the Wyalder grabbed her arms and held them down, cackling wildly. Her lungs were out of air from the punch, leaving her to wheeze out small whimpers for help and weak protests to their actions. Her eyes lit up as the skull-man began to undo his pants, but before anything else could happen, there came the drifter.
The white-haired Terran from early roared in fury and slammed a cobble brick against the man's head, causing him to cry out in pain "Fuck! Fucking shit! What the f-"
The drifter didn't allow the man another word before delivering a hard punch to his jaw, sending him reeling into a wall. The two aliens released the girl and she scrambled away from them, remaining only to watch in terrified awe as he quickly engaged the trio. He brought his elbow to the face of the Wyalder with an audible 'crack', his leg aiming a sharp kick to the Horg's knee. The Wyalder fell to the ground and scrambled to find the skull-man's knife while the Horg duked it out with her savior.
It seemed none of the thicker alien's punches effected the man, and in contrast, the warrior's punches dazed and staggered the pig-like beast. Finding a nearby hammer, Trys tossed it to the man, who caught it and slammed it down hard on the Horg's head with a 'crack', causing it to squeal in pain and clutch it's bleeding skull. He reeled his arm back to deliver another vicious strike when the Wyalder thrust his knife into the man's shoulder.
He grunted loudly in pain and quickly responded by kneeing the cackling alien in the groin, causing it to hiss in pain. Retrieving the now bloody knife from his shoulder, he quickly drove it into the creature's eye, causing it to shriek in agony. Ripping the knife out, he followed up with a swift diagonal slice across the Wyalder's mid-section, allowing his guts to spill out onto the wet ground. Trys thought she would vomit at the sight but remained too stunned to even do that. Her eyes watched the man work as her heart raced and a dry lump grew in her throat. Her breaths were ragged - the man both terrified and excited her.
The skull-man quickly gave a sharp punch to the mystery man's face, a spray of blood splattering across the water and onto Trys' face, causing her to shudder. He grunted through his mask "Come on you motherfucker! Come on!"
Crossing his legs with the skull-man's, the white-haired fighter deftly knocked the thug off his feet and to the ground with a thud. Before he could do more damage, the Horg grabbed him from behind and restrained his arms. He flailed and struggled, keeping the skull-man on the ground with well aimed kicks. He reared his head back to slam into the Horg's porcine face, causing it to grunt and stagger back. He turned back to face it with a dark grin and craned his neck with a loud crack.
It was at this point that Trys got a good look at the man's face - he had blue, feline eyes and sharp canines that seemed to gleam like metal when he smiled. A pair of metal dogtags dangled from his broad chest. He reared his arm back, hammer in hand, and brought it down hard on the Horg's head, burying it deep into the green pig's skull with a squelching crack that sent a shiver through Trys' body.
The beast gave a few dying gurgles before slumping to the ground with a loud thud, leaving only the skull-faced man to contend with Trys' savior. The assailant made no attempt at retreat, giving a feral roar as he quickly rose up and attempted to tackle the man, knife in hand. The two grappled and, when it seemed he could not get the attacker off his feet, the skull-man opted to stab his blade deep into the white-haired man's forearm.
While his arm bled profusely, he didn't seem too fazed by the attack, instead aiming a sharp hook at the thug's jaw, sending him tumbling into a wall. He quickly retrieved the knife from his arm and, as an arc of lightning crackled across the night air, he sunk the small blade into the man's dome, the bottom of the knife exiting from the skull-man's chin. His eyes lit up from behind the mask and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Trys blinked and backed away from the man as he looked at her. He walked towards her casually and asked, the rain pouring down on them both "You got anything to eat?"
<<To be continued...>>
Category:Short Stories