“I
gotta say, Wolf. I'm pretty damn surprised to see you alive. I guess
you figured out how to cheat death too, eh?” Piranha jokes as he
slowly walks across the metal walkway towards a series of concrete
steps that lead him into same flooded pit that holds Cross. Cross
begins to make his way to the stairs as well, silent and ready. He
gazes up the stairs and clearly sees Piranha standing at the top
looking down upon him. It is a rather symbolic scene, two warriors
gazing above and below towards one another in a predatory manner.
Cross, the fallen soldier, desperately seeking peace, gazes up from
the abyss at one of many nightmares that stands between him and
serenity. The other, looking down on weak and wounded prey, ready to
devour it and claim a victory he so desperately desires. They each
take one step forward. Cross, rising out his self imposed torpor, and
Piranha, descending down to claim a coveted battle. They move closer
and closer now, until they gaze into each others grim facades. Though
despite the height difference between them, they stand as equals due
to the incline of the stairs. It is a defining moment for both of
them. They know this about themselves, but are completely ignorant
that it holds true for the other.
Piranha
had not changed much, he is still stocky, broad, and muscular in his
build, a sign that he too did not age, like Cross. It was clear that
Piranha had also maintained his skills from long ago. He is wearing
an air tight body suit accented with rubber gloves and boots. A
harness adorns his upper body attached to a belt lined with
waterproof pouches. In his right hand, a highly modified sub-machine
gun. In his left, a bulky grenade launcher, the same one that he used
to send Cross plummeting into that damn pit. Finally, despite the
upgrades, his helmet appears the same as before, an abstraction of a
piranha's skull. Though the equipment is new, Cross knows that the
tactics are all still the same. Riot Piranha was designed to approach
the enemy from the water and assault his targets with a combination
of highly combustible weaponry paired with automatic and
semi-automatic small arms fire to induce panic. But here, it was one
on one. Cross knows he has the advantage if he can get in close, but
Piranha still has the benefit of the battlefield. This place is
filled with numerous tanks and pools of water, perfect for him to
hide and execute an ambush should Cross lose him for even a second, a
mistake that could cost him everything.
“I
got so many questions for you, chicken shit. But I guess the one I
gotta ask first is what made you think you could show your face here?
To me.” Piranha quips inquisitively. Cross takes a moment and
responds, “Because I knew that you had to be the first. You and I
have some unfinished business.” Piranha's head tilts to the side
and leans in, interested, excited even. “Oh! Well don't keep me in
suspense, chicken shit! Tell me all about it! I do hope it's good.”
With a familiar whirling sound, Piranha positions the tip of the
sub-machine gun's barrel beneath Cross' chin. The motion is almost
instant, but Cross knew that his speed was almost on par with his own
and expected as much. “Come on! Tell me!” Piranha demands. The
pressure of the gun's barrel forces Cross' head up slightly, giving
him the first moment when he is the one gazing down on Piranha.
“Simple, it's because your a murder worshiping piece of shit.”
Cross declares. “Well, fuck you too.” Piranha retorts, pulling
the trigger.
Before
the first bullet can explode from Piranha's weapon, Cross hurls an
open palmed left hand to the gun's center mass, the bullets spaying
out inches away from his face. The rest of Cross' body roars to life
as he immediately follows with a strike from his right hand, his
fingers curled at the first joint past the knuckles to extend the
razor sharp protrusions adorning his gloves, leaving behind silver
streaks of light as the honed metal races towards Piranha's face like
lightning. But it is not meant to be, Piranha arcs his left hand,
still holding onto his heaviest of armaments, and brings it crashing
down onto Cross' wrist before the strike could be dealt. Cross knows
better than to resist the force of Piranha's counter and falls with
the blow to protect his arm from injury, but there is still one more
move to play. Hunching forward, his balance waning, Cross takes his
next move and rockets upwards into Piranha with all the force his
legs can muster. The concrete stairs beneath Cross' feet buckle and
crumble beneath the force of his exertion as both he and Piranha sail
upwards back onto main floor of the facility. Piranha falls first and
rolls himself into a half stance, crouched on one knee and then
quickly thrusts his weapons in front of him to face his opponent. But
Cross is gone, vanishing in the confusion of the unexpected and crude
counter attack.
“Now
that's more like it! I knew you had some fight in you, Wolf! Don't
stop! I've waited so long for this!” Piranha shouts in delight.
From the shadows Cross knows he can wait for an opening, it was what
he was created to do. Stalker Wolf, that was his name on the battle
field. But in truth, he never acknowledged that name. He was Cross,
and he had vowed to never commit the same sins as the others so long
as he was 'Cross'. And yet, Stalker Wolf was no different from the
others, a soldier as part of an experimental combat force that shared
in all the atrocities as his brothers in arms. To him, Stalker Wolf
and the man named Cross are two separate entities that share the same
body, and that fact alone can never make him feel completely detached
from what he has done. This contradiction of identity is the source
of many of Cross' personal torments, but now is not the time to think
on such things. He is in a fight for his life, and he knows full well
that Riot Piranha will claim it if given the chance.
Piranha
slowly rises to his feet, his arms and hands locked into position
with his weapons forward at first, then sweeping them slowly left to
right as he glares into the shadows around him. “I bet you feel
pretty good getting the upper hand just there with that CQC shit.
Enjoy it, you ain't getting another chance, Wolf.” Piranha mocks as
he creeps around the facility, always staying well away from the
edges of the shadows that are littered around him. Cross knows that
Piranha will say anything to get to him, it was not just how he was
trained, but who he is. The man known to him only as Riot Piranha was
a constant source of torment and anxiety. During their time in
service, Piranha never missed an opportunity to criticize and berate
him. What made it worse, was that among all of them, he was the only
one that ever truly seemed to enjoy the battles they waged through
the jungles of the south pacific. That was part of the reason why
Cross chose to face Piranha first, because if he ever had to turn on
them, if he had no other option, than Riot Piranha had to be the one
to start with. For the world would only benefit the lose of such a
monster.
“What's
the matter, Wolf? I thought you wanted to talk... Fine, how about I
set the mood while you're waiting to find the stones to come out and
get your licks in.” Piranha spouts as he gets closer to Cross'
position. This is good a time as any to move into a better position,
Cross thinks. Let Piranha ramble on, ignore what he says and use it
to work toward his back and then try to close the distance to strike.
Minimize his reaction time as much as possible, Cross ponders, as he
begins to navigate the darkness towards Piranha's rear. “Let's me
guess why you're here. Old Uncle Sam wants his half tin soldiers back
because he's scared shit-less that the Reds might get lucky and learn
a thing or two about us. So, they send in you to try and take us out,
right?” Cross has no answer for Piranha. He was never meant to
engage them. It was a desperate attempt to try and face his past, to
connect with those he once called his brothers outside of the
language of war. But it is not meant to be. Cross had infiltrated
this facility, a water processing plant he now recalled, and managed
to get close enough to Piranha without him noticing. Before he could
even attempt to monitor what exactly Piranha was doing here, he was
overcome with a desire to face him. He severed his communications,
removed his helmet, and called out to Piranha, hoping that seeing a
familiar face would start a discourse that could lead them to
something meaningful. It was a desperate act, a cry for help, and he
was a fool to think that Riot Piranha would give him anything but a
howling grenade the moment he lay eyes on him.
“Nah,
that's not it. Is it? You ain't built to scrap with us are you?
You're hear to spy on us. That's right. Well, don't you worry. I
won't be telling the others you're here. Don't you think I want you
all to myself? How can I pass up the chance to actually have a fight
that's a challenge! Course if I had to pick which one, it was always
gonna be you...” Cross is close now, so very close. He moves into
position, his fingers fold to bare his claws, his knees bend waiting
to propel him forward. “Well, if I'm being honest... I would have
loved to sink my teeth into Hare.” Cross' foot slips on the water
pooling around his feet, his focus thrown off by that one word, that
name. Hare. The error causes Piranha to spin around and fire
his weapon into the darkness behind him. The sound is deafening and
is no ordinary sub machine gun. The recoil pushes Piranha himself
back several inches as he leans into the weapon. Cross darts through
the shadows to find cover, but Piranha tightens his grip and sweeps
his arm across the room towards Cross, the bullets burning through
the air and shredding through the concrete walls and pillars of the
facility. In a desperate act to evade Piranha's assault, Cross leaps
above onto one of the many metal walkways that are littered about the
facility, hoping that the sound of the metal receiving his weight
would be masked by the roar of Piranha's weapon.
The
gun suddenly stops firing, the barrel glowing from the friction and
now slightly bent. “Well that was fun while it lasted.” Piranha
scoffs, throwing the weapon to the floor. “They don't make'em like
they use to, eh Wolf? Speaking of new toys, don't think I didn't
noticed the new fancy suit you got there. The red scarf is a bit
much, but I like the white helmet. Too bad it doesn't do you any good
if you're gonna just sit in the dark and shit your pants.” It seems
Cross' plan worked, he is now above him and still close. Piranha
seemed non the wiser. But he couldn't make the same mistake again. It
takes all that he has to bring himself back into position to try once
more, this time it would have to be from the front, but at least he
was above him now. He struggles to remain focused and frantically
shields himself from the name Piranha just uttered. A name so dear
and precious to him that if he ever needed the strength to kill
Piranha, it would be to hear it defiled by his own toxic voice.
“You
might have had me there, Wolf. Not like you make a sound when you're
that close... Hmm, let's see. It wouldn't happen to be because I
mentioned Hare was it? Bitch was glued to you since day one. Only
fair that if given the chance I'd get to have a taste too, right?”
It was unforgivable, Cross knows this, and it sets his mind on fire
as his nerves and muscles rocket him into the air towards Piranha.
Piranha follows the noise and gazes upwards to see his prey falling
towards him. “I seeeeee yooooou!” Piranha rejoices as he levels
the grenade launcher towards Cross and fires. The grenade spirals in
the air towards its target, its aim true. But it is not meant to be,
Cross gently grasps the grenade in free fall making sure the impact
does not detonate it and quickly hurls it behind him. The grenade
explodes and silhouettes Cross in front of a burning mass of flames
as he continues to fall towards Piranha, ready to strike a mortal
blow, not for himself, but for the memory and honor of a friend.
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