The Opponent

Orwell lay on his back, groaning in pain as jagged stones dug into his spine. He sat up, taking a moment to assess his surroundings: I am in a crater.
. . .
. . .
How the fuck?
He tried to remember the last orders his smoldering squadmates yelled before the explosion, but that was no good. He didn’t follow them, because he wanted to live. It seemed to be the correct choice.
Why did I even want this…
He struggled to stand, diagnosing himself with bruising… everywhere, I guess. He heard his brother’s voice, clear as day, in the back of his head.
“Oh, was that hit too hard? C’mon, you can take more than that.”
You won’t keep me on the mat so long, Eric- hey, when did you get so tall?
“Come on, let’s go again!”
His brother’s face faded, and the Covenant’s attack on his homeworld replaced it. Only then did the young marine remember why he enlisted: to avenge his family. Avenge him. He tried to think how his family would take the news. His brother would be supportive, but his father? Well- a little too proud, he thought.
He smiled at the old man’s bygone patriotism, but then grimaced. He coughed up a puddle of blood, watching it splatter onto a disintegrated combat vest. He heard movement behind him, and turned around as quickly as his injuries would allow. In front of him was a member of the Covenant. One of those motherfucking buzzard-ass sons of bitches.
It seemed stunned to see him. Must’ve been scanning the bodies and passed me, Orwell concluded. Right before I woke up…
After a few seconds, he broke the standoff. He unholstered his MK50 Sidekick and fired a single shot at the alien, narrowly missing its head.
It screeched and folded to half its height, lunging at the cursing marine. It toppled Orwell to the ground, pinning him down with its deceptively heavy body. The Jackal’s nose hung in front of his eyes, lifting out of view as the alien’s jaw unhinged and shrieked. Orwell pictured a set of sharp metal nails dragging along a chalkboard, sending goosebumps up his tattered sleeves. Specks of alien saliva peppered his face, the smell of its breath reminding him of spoiled milk and expired pet food. He almost vomited thinking of the concoction as the creature struggled to aim Orwell’s pistol at his own face. He screamed as loud as he could at his foe.
"YOU WANT ME, YOU UGLY ASS MOTHERFUCKER? TRY HARDER!”
He gathered the phlegm and slobber from his throat and spat it up the creature’s protruding nasal canal, escaping its grasp as it blew its nose. Orwell seized the opportunity, punching the creature in the throat. It fell to the ground in a defensive position. As he stood, it screeched and swiped at the marine’s gut, the bruising reacting harshly to the alien’s razor-sharp talons.
He took a step back, both members taking a moment to recuperate. Once he realized he could fight a little longer, he yelled as loud as he could to suppress the pain. Maybe not the smartest, he thought, But I need to survive. I need to live.
“YOU’RE FUCKED NOW!”
The Jackal’s ugly, beady eyes stared at him.
“JUST LIKE YOU KILLED MY BROTHER. DO YOU KNOW THE BASTARD THAT TORE HIM APART? WAS IT YOU?”
He delivered a kick with as much energy as he could muster, the Jackal rolling out of range and standing up straight. 
Eric was always tall- but this thing is too tall.
The creature grabbed Orwell’s face, pushing its thumb deep into his right eye socket. He felt a sandpaper-like mass of barbed keratin puncture every hemisphere of his eye, a twinge of pain shooting through his entire body as his cornea collapsed into a bloody soup. He fell to the ground in agony.
C’mon, you can take more than that!
His functioning eye glared at the stunned alien.
His knees buckled, but he stood. Then, he punched it, with all his strength.
It grabbed its belly, bending over in pain. Orwell felt adrenaline coursing through his body, now that he was at an even height with his opponent.
“Let’s go again, you creepy-ass MOTHERFUCKER!”
He swung his tired arms as powerfully as he could. The alien tried to counterattack, kicking and screaming, but Orwell ignored the pain.
He may have been bigger- but I could actually tackle somebody…
He dove into its abdomen, bringing them both to the ground. He got up on one knee, pushing its skeletal arm into the hardened joint. He heard the creature’s hollow bones snap, splattering his hands with purple blood. Like a Thanksgiving Turkey…
The creature was on the ground, struggling to prop itself up. Its screams of pain only grew louder as it snapped its bones.
Orwell stomped on its knee. Then its throat. Horrid shrieks turned into gargles as blood filled the orange monster’s throat.
He gripped its open jaw, avoiding the sharp teeth, and pulled it apart.
The silent thing’s beady eyes begged for a quick death that Orwell would not grant. He grabbed his sidekick, and emptied the magazine into its chest. He threw it at its face, then kicked it in the side of the head.
“Now you know how it feels…”
But the Jackal did not scream or react this time. 
Orwell sighed, falling to the ground. Pain and nausea filled his stomach, and he looked to the sky for a loose sense of affirmation from beyond. 
I hope you’re still proud, Dad.
He moved his eyes to the mutilated Jackal, grabbing its limp arm. After a second, he scraped its claw along his tattered armor. A tally mark.
You won’t be the last.
He stood up, and searched his fallen comrades for a distress flare. He applied pressure to his eye, the pain keeping him to his senses waiting for the dropship to arrive.
Category:Underlord1271 Stories
Category:The Weekly
Category:Short stories