Giant Pandas Are Giant Assholes

## **Giant Pandas Are Giant Assholes** *by Bloodyspaghetti*

Thanks for all the letters and calls. I’m doing fine, just wanted to let everyone know I’ll be doing great in no time. The last hunt was fine, it was a little crazy, but it turned out great. I’ve been hunting Shifters for as long as I can remember, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen a bear. Fucking bastards, they’re far worse than the wolves or the hyenas. Maybe some other time I’ll let you all know about the time I was hunting the Bouda in Ethiopia. That’s what the locals call the Hyena-shifters.

Anyway, back to the Berserk. Yeah, that’s what I’m calling the ones that shift into bears. Berserk literally means “Bear shirt” so that’s fitting.

I got the call from an old buddy of mine, Hal Rogers. Something killed two of his workers. Corpses were mutilated deliberately. Their chest cavities had been crushed with the hearts missing, the livers missing, and torn off thigh muscles. One would think it might’ve been done ritualistically. It was certainly calculated. The missing pieces of the victims had been turned into someone’s meal. Local predators can’t do that, nor would they. Wolves don’t like humans, and during the summer there’s no reason for them to get close to civilization. From the description Hal gave me. I figured his farm had a Shifter roaming around.

I packed my rifle and a machete and set off to Hals, four hours away. Not too far, should have been a simple job since I know his farm like the back of my hand.

I thought it was going to be far easier than it ended up being. I thought it was going to be - arrive, find the Shifter, shoot it straight between the eyes and take the head as a trophy. The job turned out a little more complicated. By the time I arrived at Hal’s a four men group was there, zombie killers… Whatever they call themselves. I didn’t bother socializing with them. I don’t like their stock.

I’ve met a few, always condescending pricks, and notorious for thinking every freak of nature is a walking corpse. Never seen a zombie myself and I’ve seen many creatures, mind you. I don’t doubt they exist, but they’re probably very rare. This was definitely not one of them.

The local sheriff was there too. He was familiar with me, and I guess the Necrophiles too. Hal, while he didn’t seem to be pleased with them, didn’t mind a few more hunters around. I was none too pleased working with these guys. The man in charge of this troop, Rob Vargan, well he was something. He was probably about my age and definitely my size, but looked like hadn’t seen a shower or a barber in a decade or so. Smells like it too. If I had been drunk, I would have confused him for a werewolf with the amount of hair on his head and face. We had a brief interaction during which he ridiculed me for not thinking I am hunting zombies. I rebutted his statements with a quirk about never knowing that the undead are into furry shit. He flipped me off, and I told Hal I’ll be doing this thing on my own.

I’ve always hunted on my own since my dad retired. It’s most convenient that way, there’s no one to blame but yourself if something goes wrong. Things have gone wrong in the past. I’ve seen people become dog food, I’ve seen people lose relatives, lovers, kids. I had to put down kids, mind you, Shifter kids, but kids, nonetheless. Being a Shifter has to do with one’s bloodline, it’s a genetic thing. While most Shifter clans keep their young ones at bay, you hardly ever see Shifter children out in the wild. Sadly, not all families are great. It’s fairly unpleasant putting down a child, monster, or human.

Telling everyone involved I’m heading for the pasture if they need me, I headed out away. On some hunts, you have to sit for hours in the same spot until you come across the beast you’re hunting. Usually, they’ll follow your scent and try to turn you into food. Other times you’ve to lure them out. I was hoping Vargan and his Necrophiles run the Shifter straight to me, or if I’m lucky enough, manage to handle it themselves.

I sat there for hours, basically hanging out with Hal’s cattle. Cows, as simple as they are, they’re very pleasant creatures. The hours rolled on and sunlight gave way to moonlight. The cattle by then had already headed off to sleep some three hundred yards from me under a few trees. The sound of gunfire broke the silence. The Necrophiles must’ve come across the Shifter. The gun sounds died down soon enough, and I left my spot and made my way towards the sound of the commotion. My only concern was that they wouldn’t chop off the Shifter’s head. You know, to take down a Shifter, one has to incapacitate it. That’s best done by shooting it through the head, decapitation should follow right after. If the head stays attached to the body, the beast recovers. You can forego the shooting if you manage to decapitate it without it noticing, but that's unlikely. Shifters aren't stupid.

My concern wasn’t unfounded. On my way towards the gang, I saw Vargan running up towards me. The man had been covered in blood and dirt.

I’ll admit this much. I was an asshole to him when I saw him running up to me. He kept mumbling “It wasn’t a zombie” for a good few moments before catching his breath.

I asked sarcastically, “so it wasn’t a zombie?” while leaning on my rifle with a smug smile on my face.

“No,” he responded, wiping his face.

“Told you, not all of them, are walking corpses, Vargan, you guys better learn that,” I responded.

“Fuck you. It’s not the time” he barked back.

“What was it, a wolf?” I asked, getting serious.

“No. It’s a bear.” He looked me dead in the eye when he said that.

My head raced back to childhood memories, I had a lot of fun hunting with my old man, but I didn’t encounter a Berserk in years. I had no time to get nostalgic. Vargan gritted his teeth and confessed, “It killed the others, I couldn’t get to them in time. I saw it from the distance. It came as an emaciated, dirty tall man covered in tattoos. He seemed too wobbly to be alive, even from the distance, so they shot him in the head. He fell to the ground, seemingly dead. I thought it was the end of it, but before I could get back to the boys, it sprang back up and turned into this bear. They all got caught off guard and shot it, but the bullets wouldn’t do anything. It just tore them to bits. Fuck. I tried shooting but missed. God, it was so fast…”

“Never forget to cut off…” I wasn’t able to finish the sentence before a massive bear. A Panda bear ran towards me. Pure rage etched all over its Ursine mug. I yelled at Vargan to duck and shot. The beast moved, and the bullet grazed its side. Unfazed it flew at us. Vargan was sent tumbling aside, and it tackled me to the ground. The beast pinned me in place and did its best to try to bite my face off. I held my rifle across its head, trying my damndest to not be crushed by the power of this Berserk.

While this thing looked like a Panda, it acted and felt like a Kodiak. It even roared like one. I tried kicking it off, but to no avail, it was way too heavy. I kept shouting at Vargan to shoot the Berserk in the head, but he was probably out. The beast scratched my chest and arms. In pain, I let my guard down for a second, and then I felt the vice-like grip of the Berserk’s jaws clamp down on my shoulder. I yelled out in agony and a single shot thundered through the night sky. A huge weight was lifted off my body and the beast slumped to my side, completely flattened. I lied there for a few moments, trying to get over the pain that shot from my shoulder and chest.

Another shot exploded in my ears, I turned to the left to see Vargan standing over the fallen Berserk with his rifle aimed at its head. I was going to tell him that it’s enough, but he shot again. I cursed him out before telling him to stop. It took me a few more moments to get back to my feet. I could barely stand, so I just kind of wobbled towards the beast and unsheathed my machete. I could barely chop off its head because both of my arms were hurting. With the head separated from the body, I fell beside the Berserk and breathed a sigh of relief.

My troubles sadly weren’t over then. I was lucky enough to see Vargan pointing his rifle at me. I saw where his fingers had moved, and tossed the machete at him while cursing him out one last time. I didn’t think I'll make it out of there alive, but frankly, I had no regrets. Vargan’s rifle fired off into the air and a soft thump followed a millisecond later.

I was still alive after that. My machete hit him in the head and knocked him out cold.

“They’re not infectious, you stupid fucking Necrophile,” was the last thing I said to his unconscious body before I headed towards Hal’s. The cows were panicking and trampling the ground beneath their hooves in a nervous circular march. I blamed it on Vargan. I hope at least one cow pissed on him or kicked him or something.

I’m mostly fine, my arm is a little useless for now, but it’ll heal and the scratches are healing just fine. I’m never working with the Necrophiles again. I swear, if I see any of these again, I’m giving up on that hunt.

One last thing, always remember that even though they’re cute to look at, giant pandas are giant assholes.