Posted 27 February 2013 - 01:13 PM
Edited by Ziggy455, 27 February 2013 - 01:18 PM.
“Take him and go!” The sounds of screams and yells began to rumble all around. The wooden exterior of the house was not built to withstand such cries; cups, plates, and frames began to violently tremble, crashing to the floor as the front door began to splinter and crack. In the brief moments of their lives, Nikolai and Kaira both felt an overwhelming sense of calm. Nikolai's stern face; hiding his anger and sadness at not seeing the bundle in his arms grow up to be the beautiful boy he had known and loved.
“I will not leave you, my love.” Said Kaira; her eyes blurred with constant tears that spilt down her face and onto the sheets of the bundle that was now thrust into her arms. Crash! Something flew in through the dining room window! It crashed across the floor and from the broken crevices of the bottle there spilt the fuel that exploded, wiping out pictures in a thunderous roaring burst of heat. Kaira jumped lightly and moved slowly down the basement steps as Nikolai followed after her.
“Kaira, come here,” said Nikolai as he pulled her close; the sounds of an approaching war was as thick as the fire that began to coat the dining room ceiling and beyond, “I love you, I always have and I always will.” Such a confession of love only made the young woman cry out in a hurt yelp as she knew what was to happen. “I love you too, Nikolai, I always will.” And for a brief moment, a calm washed over them as they shared a final moment together. The very essence of love was shattered as Nikolai gently pushed Kaira further down the steps.
“Go now! Follow the lights! Michael will be waiting at the end in a pick-up for you.” Said Nikolai, running up the steps; the front door splintered as more fuel cocktails blasted through the living room window. “Go now!” he yelled, slamming the basement door, and quickly shoving the large green rug over it. Karik; his blade, glinted in the firelight from across the dining room table. My old friend, it seemed to say as Nikolai grabbed its firm grip; the black material that floated on it with a mystic quality calmed the man in final moments of peace.
The door splintered open, falling flat on the floor in a wooden mess. In the doorway there stood faces of both anger and fear. The sword was ready. Nikolai was ready.
“Come for me!” he screamed as three villagers jumped in. These were familiar; John Coondo, the local General Store owner, his brother Phil, a lazy, obese, dungaree-wearing fool, and finally Daniel Candle; a junkie. All three had shovels raised high. John lunged forward with an overhead swipe, Karik split through his torso like butter and he hit the floor in two pieces, his upper torso, and the rest of him. Phil screamed out in shock and ran straight for Nikolai, his sweaty, large body flopping as he ran forward with great crashes. Nikolai jammed Karik deep into the fat man’s solar plexus, pulling Karik back out and moving out of the way quickly Phil continued to run, crashing straight into a wall and falling forward with a final gasp of breath. Blood began to seep into the rug. Nikolai himself was covered in the crimson stuff.
The junkie was weaker; he ran forward with a swipe, but the shovel itself was too heavy and he fell to the floor with a cry. He looked up at Nikolai with that familiar feeling he had once felt himself. “Noooooo-“ Karik was quickly rammed through the poor man’s head. More people ran inside.
Karik was yanked out of the dead junkie’s head with a cringing slice and was poised, ready for the next three. The fire began to spread from the dining room to the main hallway. As another two ran in, they backed away from the roaring fire that now covered the entire dining room. Nikolai did not care for the heat; his eyes were on the prize. Five men; he knew them all.
Steven Merchant, Ryan Christe, Daniel Jones, Arthur Hands, and Jackson Tatum were his next victims. Steven was carrying a pitchfork, Ryan was spinning a small knife, Daniel had no weapons –the poor fool-, Arthur carried a meat cleaver that was old and rusty, and Daniel had brought his own katana from his house. A thunderous crash came from the living room; more were coming in the back door!
“You men should leave.” Said Nikolai as a person ran from behind, screaming to high heavens as flames licked his body. Karik sliced through him, spraying blood on the five men who had just entered.
“Get this f*cking freak!” screamed Steven, pushing Arthur forward. The young black man lifted his cleaver high and ran forward; the rustic blade even glinted in the firelight for a brief second before Karik sliced off Arthur’s forearm. A bloodcurdling scream mixed with the raging crescendo of the ever-moving fire that was slowly surrounding them. “He chopped off my-“ Anoter quick swipe through the cranium as he lay on the floor silenced him. No time was wasted- Stephen ran forward, the pitchfork dug into Nikolai’s leg as it pushed him back to the stairs. Nikolai screamed as he sliced the handle as fast as lightning. It was too quick for Steven’s eyes to comprehend. The blade sliced through the wood and with the pitchfork still deep in his thigh, Nikolai shoved Karik deep into Steven’s stomach; moving close to his ear.
“Goodbye, Deputy.” He said, pushing Steven off Karik gently. Ryan and Daniel sprinted forward, the katana went straight for Ryan’s neck; his head shot off with such a force that Daniel screamed in shock and fell into the dining room. The raging beast had grabbed him with its roaring hot claws and was no devouring him. Jackson kept his katana ready. The young boy was only fifteen. Nikolai stood up and yanked the pitchfork head out of his thight; it wouldn’t be long now. He was coming.
“Get out of here, Jackson.” The young child’s eyes scanned the horrific scene around him; Decapitation, mutilation, burn victims. He dropped his katana and ran from the house. Outside more screams echoed; the second floor bedroom collapsed into the roaring, flaming abyss that used to be the dining room. Nikolai scrambled up the smoky stairs with Karik as a walking stick.
The click of a megaphone echoed out through the screams of the fire, and survivors of his onslaught “Nikolai!” It was him, alright. “Nikolai, if you do not come out I will come in and we will finish this.”
Let him come, let him finish this. Upstairs, smoked poured through all of the rooms. Niko jumped into Marcus’ room and slammed the door shut. The large room was half-painted for a nursery; Kaira had pleaded with him to paint it pink before the baby arrived but somehow Nikolai knew a son was to be born and so half a walk was painted bright blue.
The sound of heavy feet thudded up the stairs. “You have killed eight people, Nikolai. You have made this worse on yourself!” yelled that familiar voice, a voice Nikolai had only hatred for.
He sat down in the middle of the room and closed his eyes. This was to be a quick death. CRASH! A Molotov smashed through a window, splitting and exploding in a glorious visual firework that coated the north wall, setting fire to the baby’s crib and toys in the corner. Nikolai stood up with a limp, he gripped Karik tightly as he turned to the window. The door slammed open; in walked the man.
Arty Gabbles was a largely-built man. Under his black vest there was a vast amount of naturally-built muscle. But beyond the physical peak of human strength, Arty displayed an intense intelligence. His curtained fringe and black katana were well known. He pointed his sword straight to Nikolai.
“This ends now, Nikolai, give me the baby.”
He ran forward with a scream, he sliced down with his katana; his leg burning. Chink! The two clashed, and with a thunderous kick, Nikolai was launch back close to the fire that slowly began to eat away at the room, swallowing toys and painted walls whole. Arty slowly circled Nikolai as the injured man stood up.
“All you had to do was give me the baby, Nikolai, and you’d have been fine.”
Another yell came from Niko and then a left swipe, a punch in the thigh from the fierce Arty dropped him onto one knee; fresh blood poured from the burning puncture wound. The black katana dropped down but Karik was raised; another chink echoed out. Nikolai screamed and gritted his teeth, shoving the large man back with a stumble.
“You will have to work for your meal,” said Nikolai, his blade pointed at the confused man. Arty’s face swapped from confusion to a small grin as he span his black blade.
“Is this how you want it to end?” said Arty as he circled a poised Nikolai once again.
“Yes.” Karik swooped down again, a left slice, a deflection. Nikolai shot his leg back away from Arty’s second punch. The black blade shot forward, Niko fell back, parrying the blade away to the right. It was forced down and entered the floor next to Nikolai’s head. Arty yanked out the blade as his enemy rolled over, going in for a second attack with Karik. As the blade was raised high, Arty pulled out the sword in the wood and lunged; the black katana was thrust deep into Nikolai’s arm with a piercing scream.
The man’s grip on the katana did not lessen. Karik swiped down violently, slicing yet another forearm; this time it was Arty’s. The large man fell back and screamed as loud as the fire that now began to surround the two; another crash came from further in the house. It was falling apart!
“My arm...” said Arty confused.
Blood began to pour down Nikolai’s arm. He looked down at Arty as fresh blood trickled from his head; a wound he had sustained when being kicked back. As quick as a flash, Arty slammed one of his steel-cap boots as hard as he possibly could on Nikolai’s shin. A thunderous crack exploded and Niko fell to the floor in extreme agony. Arty scrambled forward; his arm bleeding fresh blood each second. Must stop the bleeding!
Arty shoved his fresh stump deep into the fire that was spread all around. The pain he felt, he considered it to be worse than having a hundred thousand needles gently pressed into your skin. He screamed louder than anybody had ever heard. The remaining villagers around the house all heard it as they backed away from the roaring exhibition that used to be a family home. Arty pulled out his black stump from the fire. Eyeing his work, he was glad to see no blood was free-flowing. Nikolai cradled himself in pain as his splintered shinbone poked out of his baggy jeans.
Arty stood up; his picked up Karikisha – his sword- and walked towards Nikolai. The ground violently shook. “Let us finish this; I will take my time considering you’ve just taken my arm!” he yelled as he raised his blade a final time. Nikolai rolled once more. He pushed himself up and grabbed Karik. Karikisha swiped down, chink! Both injured men found each swipe to be a nauseating and tiring effort. The katana’s lazily connected with metallic scrapes. Niko fell back, Arty lunged forward; a deflection hit from the left knocked Arty off balance and then Nikolai found his opportunity.
“So long, old friend!” said Arty as Nikolai raised his sword forward with a piercing scream. With both hands raised, Karik glinted in the firelight, ready for its final kill. Arty kept his blade lowered. Karik swung down and with a chink, Nikolai was parried off balance. Arty lunged forward; the blade shot deep into the man’s stomach. Arty forced Karikisha all the way. The two came close together as Arty embraced his victim.
“So long, my friend,” Nikolai smiled as fresh blood trickled out of his mouth and onto his blood red t-shirt.
“We’re...going...together.” said Nikolai as his eyes rolled back. The house began to rumble; and then suddenly the floor beneath the two gave way into the fiery abyss of the first floor. Karikishi fell from Arty’s hand as he screamed and fell through the floor and hit the roaring hot floor below. In the heated hell that Arty had now fell into; two blades fell into the gaping hole from above and landed in his arm remaining arm and shoulder pinning him down. The villagers fled in fear as they heard the man’s final screams.