Wasteland Rules: Die Fighting (The World After Book 4) (11 page)

   “I’m coming for you Storm.” The monster called
mockingly.

   All eyes turned to Derek. “Zabrowski!” He hissed as
he stood up.

   “The Red Beret captain?” Kroner asked in surprise.
“I thought he was dead.”

   “We thought so too, but somehow he survived. The
Faceless showed up and retrieved his body. I’m guessing they turned him into
this and created the others helping him.” Derek replied angrily. “No need to
get the core, I can go down there and get my revenge now.”

CIA Base under Mount Rushmore

September 14, 2029

   The destruction and chaos pleased Deimos to no end.
He was really enjoying himself for the first time in a while. This time his
“team” was winning and doing so quite handily. They had slashed through the
CIA’s gunmen with ease. He had made his grand entrance and it had been
terrifying. Now all he had to do was wait for Storm to come to him. There was
no doubt in his mind that Storm would come to him. The man’s ego and belief in
his own abilities would blind him to the possibility that Deimos was more
powerful than him. Although, so far Storm had been the winner so he had some
history to back up his belief. But he hadn’t tangled with Deimos yet.

   The new allies the Faceless Man had provided had
been impressive. Created from a similar serum to the one given him, they were
more bestial and less emotional. But that meant they didn’t feel fear or
empathy. They were larger and stronger than the average man and had an
unbridled blood lust; and they followed orders without question. The Faceless
Man had called them the Makai. They were named after some sort of ancient Greek
legend or something. He wasn’t really paying attention to the history lesson.

   All that mattered was he now had an army of
remorseless killers at his command. The Faceless Man had obtained intelligence
from one of his spies on where Storm was and they had immediately launched to
attack the location. A fleet of helicopter gunships and transport choppers had
transported them to the location in South Dakota. The actual location, under
Mount Rushmore, had surprised Deimos; but he remembered hearing once that the
U.S.T.G. believed there was a CIA base in the area. Storm sure had a lot of
powerful friends for an exile. But it did explain how he always seemed to get
the upper hand.

   This time, Deimos would defeat and humble him and
then force him to watch as he destroyed everyone else in the base. Make him
watch as Deimos killed the girl and crushed the phone containing the renegade
program, the Voice. Maybe he could break Storm’s back and leave him paralyzed
and helpless. That sounded like a particularly good idea and he smiled to
himself.

   He positioned himself thirty feet from the thick
reinforced steel security door. His army took up positions in a rough
semi-circle around him. Whoever exited that door would have nowhere to run to.
Confidently Deimos handed his combination machine gun/grenade launcher to one
of the Makai and waited patiently for his prey to appear.

   As he expected, he didn’t have to wait long for
Storm to appear. The door slid open and former soldier strolled through
confidently. Deimos noted that Storm actually had a smirk on his face. He was
alone; there was no sign of the girl or any CIA gunmen. Deimos smiled ferally
as Storm sauntered up to face him.

   “I’m here Zabrowski.” Storm snarled arrogantly.
“Ready to get beaten down again?”

   The Makai muttered and growled at Storm’s
insolence, but Deimos ignored them. “So full of yourself Storm.” He growled
back. “I’m going to enjoy breaking you. Then I’m going to kill your girlfriend
while you watch helplessly.”

   “Tough talk for someone who has gotten his ass
handed to him each time we tangled.” Storm retorted with a laugh.

   “This time you aren’t the only one with
advantages.” Deimos said confidently.

   “Ugliness isn’t an advantage, Zabrowski.” Storm
replied insultingly.

   “It’s Deimos!” He bellowed. “And you will learn to
feel terror when you hear my name! I will burn everything and everyone you love
to the ground, just like I did with NASA.”

   “Let’s do this then.” Storm snapped angrily. “Man
to man, no guns? So you can prove yourself.”

   “Sounds good to me, little man.” Deimos agreed
eagerly.

   Storm drew the infamous machete that had killed so
many Red Berets from his back and a combat knife from his tactical vest, and
took up a combat stance opposite of Deimos. Deimos smiled patronizingly and
drew the twin katanas the Faceless Man had provided him. He twirled them
dramatically drawing grunts of appreciation from his troops. Storm looked
extremely sure of himself, but he had reason to. He had bested Deimos each of
the previous times that had clashed, making him look like a fool each time. But
this time, the playing field was leveled, possibly even tilted in his favor.
Storm’s “superhuman” abilities would be matched by the changes the serum had
made to Deimos.

   Storm snorted in derision at the antics and
suddenly lunged forward to strike at Deimos. The blades rang as Deimos barely
got his katana up in time to block. Despite his new physique he needed to not
underestimate Storm. The man had years of experience killing people in
situations just like this. And every time someone underestimated Storm, they
wound up dead.

   The two combatants clashed again and again,
circling and striking. Sparks flew from their blades as they battled furiously.
Deimos was bigger and stronger, but Storm was faster and more experienced.
Despite the disadvantage of having shorter blades he seemed to dance in and out
like a nimble wasp. Deimos’ armor was protecting against the strikes
penetrating and absorbing most of the impacts, but he knew that Storm could
still slip a blade into a joint in the armor and hurt him.

   He roared in anger and delight and launched a
brutal series of attacks that had Storm reeling backwards. He grinned as he
felt the adrenaline rush begin to overcome him and he stepped up his attacks.
The Makai watched in awe as the two warriors traded blows in a whirlwind of
blades. The ring of steel on steel was almost continuous and their individual
movements became too fast to follow as they struck and counterstruck at speeds
beyond anything even a superior athlete could perform.

   A trickle of sweat began to form on Storm’s temple
and Deimos grinned. The mighty warrior was beginning to show strain and he
wasn’t even affected yet. Adrenaline rushed through Deimos as he realized he
had the upper hand. He pressed the attack and one of his katanas slipped
through Storm’s defense. The blade scored a thin line across his nemesis’ thigh
and blood began to flow. The Makai cheered as he drew first blood and his
confidence grew. Storm grimaced slightly but continued to fight valiantly.

   But Deimos could see that the man was slowing
slightly. Another strike slipped through and nicked Storm’s shoulder. The first
glimmer of worry began to form on Storm’s face. He was wounded and beginning to
fade, but Deimos was still going strong. The Makai began yelling and chanting
his name as they watched their leader begin to dominate the fight. Deimos
battered Storm with heavy strikes. The former bounty hunter blocked all of
them, but staggered backwards under the force of the blows.

   His arms began to sag and his blades began to drop
lower as Deimos continued the assault. Then Storm demonstrated why he was so
dangerous. He suddenly dodged a heavy strike from Deimos as moved inside the
strike. Stabbing upwards with his combat knife he managed to jab it into a gap
in the armor. The blade slipped into Deimos’ side right at the waist. It could
have been a mortal blow but his heavy musculature and increased mass prevented
the blade from striking anything critical.

   Ignoring the blade, Deimos slapped Storm’s hand
away leaving the knife embedded in his side. Now he had two blades to Storm’s
one and he leveraged that advantage. Striking with both blades simultaneously
he locked up Storm’s machete and pushed him backwards. Storm struggled but he
was slowly and inexorably pushed backwards. He dropped back suddenly and broke
the clinch. Lunging back quickly he tried to catch Deimos off guard, but the
katanas were there and blocked the strike.

   Desperate, he tried a tactic that Deimos had seen
before. Storm baited Deimos into stabbing his katanas into his arch enemy’s
shoulders and then tried to chop downwards at Deimos’ hands. The blow would
have reduced them to stumps, but Deimos lifted Storm off his feet with the
blades and robbed the swing of any force. He then flung Storm to the ground
hard and pulled loose his blades. Storm rose to his feet surprising quickly but
he was losing a lot of blood. It poured out of the gaping wounds in his
shoulders. Weakened, he lost his grip on his machete as Deimos slapped his hand
with the flat of a blade.

   A warrior to the end, Storm bull rushed Deimos and
attempted to tackle him. The bleeding former soldier managed to get under Deimos’
blades and hit him with a shoulder to the mid-section. But Deimos merely
grunted and didn’t give any ground. He struck down with the hilts of both
blades onto Storm’s neck and shoulders, stunning him. He then sheathed his
blades and roared in victory, sending the Makai into a frenzy.

   Storm wasn’t done fighting though, and he launched
a wild haymaker at Deimos. Deimos easily avoided the punch and casually
backhanded Storm knocking him backward. Storm staggered forward swinging
drunkenly. Deimos laughed mockingly as he effortlessly dodged the ineffective
strikes. He smacked Storm around toying with him and enjoying his dominance
over his arch nemesis.

   “What? No rule for this situation?” Deimos mocked
cruelly.

   The former soldier growled with anger and launched
himself at Deimos. He caught Storm as he charged in and held him in a headlock.
The man struggled but couldn’t break free of Deimos’ greater strength. In every
way, Deimos was proving himself greater than Storm. With a primal scream he
picked Storm up and power slammed him to the ground. The air rushed out of
Storm when he hit the ground and he moaned in pain. Deimos stood over him for a
moment gloating.

   Reaching down he grabbed Storm by the throat and
lifted him into the air. His nemesis clutched frantically at Deimos’ arm as he
gasped for air. Deimos merely smiled at him triumphantly. He finally had his
arch enemy, his kryptonite, at his mercy. Storm reached back for his shotgun
and Deimos allowed him to pull it free before grasping his hand. He squeezed
and Deimos could hear and feel Storm’s bones breaking as he crushed the hand.
Storm dropped the shotgun and it fell to the ground with an impotent clatter.

   “I thought you weren’t supposed to give up your
weapons Storm?” Deimos taunted. “Some rule or something?”

   Just as Storm began to lose consciousness he
dropped him. Storm fell in a heap at Deimos’ feet and he gave the man a brutal
kick that sent Storm flying. The kick was so hard he could hear Storm’s ribs
crack from the impact. Storm bounced off the wall near the security door and
barely moved while blood pooled on the floor around him. Deimos threw his hands
up in the air in celebration, turned to the Makai, and screamed a victory yell;
playing to his troops. They roared their approval and stamped their feet. He
turned back to gloat over Storm when BLAM! He was struck by an explosive impact
and knocked from his feet.

   Through the ringing he could hear the sound of
gunfire, explosions, and the angry cries of his soldiers. He shook his head to
clear it and looked around. Gunmen with light machine guns and automatic
grenade launchers swarmed out of the security door. Visored helmets covered
their heads and they wore heavy body armor. A similarly attired man stood in
the doorway holding a smoking missile launch tube looking straight at Deimos.
His arrogant stance indicated he was the leader of this latest resistance.

   The man dropped the missile tube and casually
pulled out another one. Deimos’ armor had prevented any major damage and he
could already feel his body repairing the crushing damage done from the first
missile. Bones were knitting back together and the bruising was fading as he
got to his feet. The man launched the second missile, but Deimos was ready this
time. He ducked to one side and the missile passed harmlessly by. He heard an
explosion and then screams behind him, but he ignored them.

   He could see the girl and another man, which he
thought was the hacker Shilling, gathering up Storm. Deimos tried to rush
towards them, but the volume of fire from the gunmen forced him back. Their
heavy weapons and body armor was giving them a distinct advantage in the fight
and his troops were being pushed back. As more fell he could tell they were at
risk of breaking. He didn’t want his victory to be turned into a rout so he
needed to rally his forces.

   Grabbing the body of one of his fallen troops he
charged the heavily armored gunmen with a roar. Using the body as a shield he
was able to withstand the withering hail of gunfire and grenades and crash into
their front ranks. Seizing an M-249 SAW by the barrel from the nearest man, Deimos
lashed out with it like a club and shattered the man’s visor, knocking him
unconscious. Screaming a battle cry, he lost himself into a violent rage and
lashed about himself wildly with the light machine gun. Blood splattered, bones
crunched, and men died as he rampaged amongst the gunmen.

    He couldn’t hear anything over the rushing sounds
in his ears. His whole world shrank down to the man in front of him and the
carnage he was creating, and he gloried in it. He was like a god among mortals,
unstoppable and unkillable. He stopped when he realized that there were no more
gunmen to kill and his troops were rushing forward. All that remained between
him and Storm was the leader of the gunmen.

   The man stood alone in the doorway, bravely facing
the onrushing horde with only an automatic shotgun to stop them. Behind him,
the girl and the hacker half dragged half carried Storm down the corridor. The
man must have known he would die, but he was going to give Storm and his
friends time to escape. Deimos was actually impressed and felt the man deserved
some respect, so he held up his hand to stop his troops. This one deserved a
memorable death.